"Darla."
"Luke."
The two vampires glared at each other across the wharf, quickly assessing relative positions and weaknesses. Luke’s entourage streamed off the ship, fanning out behind him like a pool of darkness in the night, clad in the traditional robes of the Order of Aurelius. Darla cast a quick nervous eye over them. Minions. The Master made no more childer after Joshua abandoned him. If you could believe the rumours he was waiting for the right time, the right candidate, and prophecy had told him to await the coming of the Anointed One.
Darla’s only back up came in the form of the new minion – Bethan, a stupid useless girl - and Angelus. For a moment she wished she hadn’t sent Drusilla and William away, not that they would have been much use if it came down to a fight. How on earth the Master had managed to find her on Jersey in January was beyond reckoning.
"Walk with me a while?"
Luke offered his arm and Darla, having spared a warning glance for Angelus, stepped forward and took it, confident that her brother was unlikely to spring any unwelcome surprises. Nothing more than his untimely arrival anyway.
Leaving the others behind to posture pointlessly, the siblings strolled down the quay in silence until they reached the last mooring point. Only then did they stop, far enough from the edge to avoid the waves crashing onto the stone and stood together staring into the night.
"It has come to our Sire’s attention that you are proposing a daring theft."
"How remarkable. What exactly has he heard?" It was probably useless to try and play the innocent but Darla wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
"The child. With royal blood."
Damnation. "What of it? A trifle, nothing more. I’m sure it isn’t…"
"The Master requires you bring the babe to him. There are writings that concern its future. Prophecies. He will be extremely upset if you break your agreement with him now."
Darla bit back a scream of frustration. Three months. Just three months until the babe was due and all that time invested. Now he had to notice.
Neither of them saw the dark emaciated figure slide silently back into the water at their feet.
***
Glowing orange sparks followed the cigarette’s journey twixt flicking fingers and the sand, where it landed only to be swallowed a second later by the next wave flushing up the beach. The tide was coming in rapidly now and another hour would see all Dru’s hard work destroyed by something more indefatigable than Darla.
"Dru, love. Call it a night, yeah?"
She raised her tousled head from the complex pattern of lines inscribed on the beach and Spike’s fingers itched for want of a brush. The quiet times they’d spent, him playing with her hair and her singing, had been the highlight of the last two months. Ever since Darla and Angelus had run them off with instructions they stay away until needed.
With no effort Spike’s mind conjured Darla’s exasperated face as she pronounced her findings. "She’s an absolute liability. This isn’t London. People in St. Helier notice when she starts spouting nonsense."
"What do you suggest, my dear?"
Spike had held Dru’s hand and tried not to listen as the two elder vampires discussed their fate, concentrating instead on the fine skin he was caressing and the flowery scent of his sire.
"I thought I made myself perfectly clear, Angelus. Send them away." Darla, now totally focussed on her latest obsession, had no time to involve herself with petty details - like childer.
"To where?" Angelus had asked, throwing his hands in the air. Recently back in his sire’s good books and bed, he was not about to make too much fuss. "Every other town in this backwater is smaller still."
"Well, they have to go somewhere. You made them, you take care of them." And with that Darla washed her hands of the whole affair.
Thus Spike and Dru had spent the last two months in La Cotte, a cave across St. Aubin’s bay from St. Helier, kicking their heels and trying not to starve.
Jersey, Spike had rapidly concluded, was quite possibly the most boring place on the planet.
"Come and see where we’re going, my Spike."
An insistent hand pulling on his brought Spike back to the windswept winter beach and, amused rather than annoyed, he allowed himself to be dragged over to the masterpiece Dru had been creating since sunset. He stood perplexed in the centre of a complex design of swirls and spirals, turning around slowly in the hopes of making sense of it.
"Err… What is it, pet?"
"The future, silly. See." She pointed at a spectacularly intricate series of curlicues as if they held the answers to the universe, which, Spike reflected, was entirely possible for Drusilla. From things Angelus let slip, Spike understood that Dru had always had the sight, but since his odd conversation with his demon in the London sewers, he wondered whether being turned hadn’t changed that into something else. Sometimes his princess seemed to know the future too well. Though communicating that knowledge in a comprehensible manner to anyone else was another matter entirely.
"How about you explain it all to the idiot then."
Giving him an exasperated look worthy of Darla, Dru squatted down and ran her fingers millimetres above the sand, tracing the design with her nails. "Paris." She glanced up to check he was listening then went back, her head cocked slightly to one side as if listening to an internal voice. "We will go to Paris, with Daddy and Grandmother."
"Bloody soon with any luck," Spike muttered in heartfelt fashion.
"Grandmother wants to consume the baby there but the little one has to go on a journey first." Dru pointed towards another design a few feet away. "A long delicious trip full of pain and magic and hungry hunger. That will make Grandmother unhappy but it must happen. Has to happen." Her hands started to flutter between the sand and her mouth, and a distressed whine built in her throat. "Ohhh!"
"Hey, love." Spike was at her side immediately, holding her tightly and rubbing circles on her back. His first instinct was to annihilate the picture with one swipe of his hand but experience told him that sometimes such things made her worse.
When she didn’t calm, he tried the next line of attack. "How about you and me make sure the sprat does what it’s told, eh? Bundle it up nice and tight and send it on its way."
The whine dropped to a low hum and Drusilla leaned into him finally accepting the comfort of touch and words. For a while they sat together listening to the incessant sea and scenting the ozone tang coming in off the waves, the night wrapping them in her cold arms.
But Spike couldn’t be still for long. Dawn was only a couple of hours away and he needed to get food for them both before the sun rose.
"Come on, kitten. Time to be getting back." He roused her with a shake and she yawned at him, batting her eyes sleepily.
"Hungry," she murmured, allowing herself to be lifted up and snuggling into Spike’s neck.
"Yeah. I’ll check the snares as soon as I’ve dropped you off."
Dru’s nose scrunched in disgust and she whined, "No bunnies. They’re all fur in me teeth. Find a treat Spike. A little girl with red ribbons and bells."
"No kids, Dru. You know what Angelus said. The odd poacher if we can catch ‘em but no hunting on the farms."
She whined again at his reprimand and wriggled in his arms, nearly overbalancing him as he carried her up the steep path toward the cave. But that was the end of the arguments, thank goodness. It had taken him over a week to persuade her to eat rabbit the first time, with Dru swearing that she would get fur-balls like a cat and him telling her not to be stupid. There wasn’t enough meat on his princess’ bones to be fussy; a decent wind would blow her away.
Once he was certain she wouldn’t wander off the moment he left, Spike grabbed his sack and set off to check the snares. There were twenty in all, scattered amongst the gorse and bracken over the common, placed carefully to exploit the regular runs the habitual creatures used during their twilight wanderings. As he approached the first and heard the tell tale sounds of an animal struggling, Spike sent up a word of thanks to Fred and the lads for teaching him the whys and wherefores one night. Who’d of thought he’d ever have needed it.
It turned out to be lean pickings. Although seven of the traps had caught something, only three were still alive, one of the drawbacks of not being able to check them regularly. Of the other four, two were untouched and he fed hungrily off the cooling congealing blood, ripping the tiny corpses open and chewing on the blood sodden flesh. The final pair had been torn up good and proper, fox or badger most likely, though he didn’t waste what little blood was left around.
Spike gave the last rabbit a quick shake, stuffed the stunned animal into his sack - all the live prey went back for Dru - and sighed. Pretty soon he’d need to put more holes in his belt. Then he stood and stared out over L’Ouaisine common towards the farmland beyond as he licked his fingers clean. Maybe he could try for a cow. Angelus hadn’t forbidden that and anything that might fill his clenching belly would be welcome. A fortnight of starvation rations would even make it taste palatable.
Dru was less than impressed by the meagre offering but made the best of it, not spilling a drop. Finally, as the sun crested the horizon, they retreated to the back of the cave and Spike settled Dru on their makeshift bed of bracken fronds to sleep the day away.
Still too hungry to sleep himself, he paced the walls of the cave exploring its deeper recesses, ending up sorting through the dusty piles of animal bones and rubbish he’d found. It wasn’t much more than a way to pass time but he had turned up the occasional trinket.
Like this one.
His questing fingers brushed against something solid amongst the shards of pottery and bone. And he quickly extracted an odd looking figurine. Carved from green stone, it was obviously, almost grotesquely, feminine, with disproportionate tits and hips. Not a particularly attractive piece but the diamond embedded in its stomach could be prised out and might be worth flogging if they ever got back to civilisation. After brushing off the worst of the muck Spike stuck it in his ditty bag along with his other finds and then joined Dru in the hopes of getting his head down for a couple of hours.
***
Lily was practically dancing around the room, so excited was she by the news. "It’s wonderful, Darla. Simply wonderful. I thought his family had disowned me entirely and then this!"
She brandished the letter under the vampire’s nose, giving Darla the full benefit of the scents it still carried. Sealing wax and coal-smoke - most definitely originated in London then, she thought, resisting the temptation to simply grab the damn thing and read it. Instead she smiled pleasantly and enquired, "What does it say, my dear? Does Louis wish you to return to London?"
"No, no. Better than that." Lily stopped twirling and clasped the letter to her breast, her eyes closing in happiness. "He wants me to go to Paris. I will remain there until the baby is born and then he will come to see me."
"Paris!" It was all Darla could do to keep the anger out of her voice. Having her victim on the same continent as her sire would leave virtually no chance to carry out her plan.
A small frown of confusion broke over Lily’s face. "I’m puzzled that he did not tell you. After all you are the one looking after his concerns in this matter."
"Ah. Yes…Well." Darla thought quickly, as she must to avoid Lily realising that her friend’s credentials were not all she believed. "He did mention a surprise to me. A secret he wished to keep from everyone except yourself. And that," she indicated the letter, "must be it."
"How romantic. Perhaps he does indeed love me." Lily’s smile was back as she twisted the lie to fit her hopeful worldview. "And Paris. I love Paris. So many people. The opera and the theatre."
Darla watched as the young woman waxed lyrical about the wondrous nightlife her impending move would deliver, and became increasingly worried. Lily deciding to move to Jersey had been ideal, it was possible to keep her isolated and away from most people, except the naïve locals who were nothing to fear. Paris however was an entirely different question. The Master would have the city crawling with minions within hours of Lily’s arrival and any chance of spiriting the baby away from under his nose would be gone. Unless she had help.
***
"Aiee!"
Spike was upright and moving before he was even awake. Barefoot and shirtless, he sprinted towards the beach, zig-zagging through the budding gorse, eschewing the paths and leaping from rock to rock, all consideration for his own safety subsumed with fear for Drusilla.
As he ran, some part of his mind registered that the sun had been down for a couple of hours and a sudden flashback into vivid dreams of rich blood hovering eternally out of reach saw him lose his footing and stumble, rolling upright and running again immediately.
Flying across the uneven ground, Spike berated himself as he went. Bloody idiot, dropping off and letting her wander away on her own. Anything could’ve happened. She might’ve drowned - no, vampire! - Alright then, some monster ate her up like them ones Verne wrote all about, or… or… His feet slowed of their own volition, and then speeded up again as he spotted what had gotten Dru so excited.
Angelus. Ambling through the dunes, trailing a bloke along behind him from a short length of rope and looking for all the world like he was walking his pet puppy.
Muttering, "Thank Christ. I was seriously considering eating that cow tonight," Spike stopped worrying and sprinted towards them.
Dru got there first, and, hungry as she was, didn’t bother with a greeting before starting to feed.
Spike arrived a couple of paces behind her, the sand spraying out in a wide arc as he skidded to a halt. Ducking his head, he managed a mumbled, "Evenin’ Angelus," before sinking his fangs into the other side of the sailor’s neck. After a fortnight of rabbit and the occasional goose, the slightly fishy human tasted like heaven and, as the blood went down, all the little scrapes and cuts he’d sustained vanished in a surge of healing.
Neither of the younger vampires were completely sated by the feed and Drusilla kept worrying at the corpse, licking and slurping at its neck, long after Spike had given it up as a bad job.
"Still hungry?"
The smug smirk on Angelus’ face had one meaning and one only, but it didn’t prevent a moment’s rebellion. A flash of gold and guttural growl enforced the demand and Spike sighed and dropped to his knees, quelling the urge to snap at the hand that ruffled his hair as he started to open Angelus’ trousers. This would actually be fun if Angelus didn’t fucking patronise him.
"Good boy."
Like that.
"Daddy?"
Bugger. He’d forgotten about Dru.
"Yes, Dru?" A gentle cuff to the back of his head informed Spike that his princess watching wouldn’t be allowed to interfere. So he got down to business, allowing the repetitive actions of lick-suck-swallow happen automatically as he shamelessly eavesdropped on the conversation taking place over his head.
"Why is my Spike doing that?"
"It’s…Ahh, yess!…part of a, umm, deal. P-payment in kind. Fuck! Do that again!"
Spike obliged, deep throating Angelus and thought how odd it was that ‘deal’ suggested some level of agreement. The last time he’d checked being face-fucked against a carriage seat while the new minion watched and sniggered in the corner did not constitute agreement. Neither did being forced to his knees morning, noon and night because Angelus had discovered the only thing better than his childe’s arse was his mouth. Nicci was right about one thing; Angelus wasn’t ever going to leave him alone so Spike was learning to enjoy it, as the straining in his too loose trousers testified.
"Two pretty willies. Like lollipops at the circus." Dru hummed in the background, punctuated by Angelus' increasingly incoherent grunts.
A gush of salty tepid fluid flooding his mouth brought Spike back to the here and now, and he swallowed every drop - better than cow though not as nutritious - before making sure Angelus was scrupulously clean and tucking him back in.
When he looked up two sets of golden eyes were staring down at him, both whirling with lust and Spike suppressed a full body shiver, knowing his own probably held the same level of hunger.
**
It was the dark of the moon so all was cast in cold starlight. The sea, moving like oil crested with silver, caressed a beach dotted with electrum shells and edged with the distant lights of towns and isolated farms. Orion and Taurus hung in the sky behind them, candles of the gods and the only witnesses to the bacchanalian rite being enacted in one of the oldest human habitations in Europe.
Angelus leaned back on the sand one arm propped under his head, and watched his childer fuck. With their bellies full of human blood and topped up with some of his own, they were pretty much unstoppable and right now they were performing specifically for him. And what a pretty sight they made. So similar in colouring, pale bodies and dark hair, that it was impossible to tell them apart in this twilight world. They became a hydra, a single form with writhing interchangeable limbs. Or nature spirits, nymphs and fauns disporting themselves for Pan’s pleasure. Yes, he liked that image. It carried the weight of ages with it.
"Open her up, boy," he called, voice rising above the shushing of the waves. "All the way." Spike raised Dru’s legs, pressing down against her thighs so her knees virtually brushed against her ears, and giving Angelus a perfect view of a pale glistening cock plunging into her compliant body. "That’s it," he purred. "Now harder. Fuck her harder."
Chewing on his lip, Spike did his best to comply, working his hips and closing his ears to the little whimpers Dru was making each time he pounded into her. There was no love in this, no care or tenderness, Angelus was seeing to that with his preemptory commands. Yet still he had made her come at least four times and climaxed himself once. In Dru’s mouth of course. Apparently he was the warm-up act and Angelus didn’t like sloppy seconds.
"Come on, Drusilla. Enough slacking. Show the boy what you can really do."
Wriggle.
Shift.
Turn.
And suddenly Spike wasn’t on top anymore. Not in any sense of the word. Dru’s claws burrowed into his chest, her pelvis slammed down on his and he was the one whimpering.
Where the hell had this come from? Where was his sweetly sensual princess? Certainly not this siren figure riding his cock and screaming to the stars. Medusa - hair a serpent’s wing, turning him to stone with her wild mad eyes. Pale Morrigan - the crow-gazed berserker, dark goddess incarnate, whipping him to a frenzy and driving his body to limits he didn’t know it possessed.
Within seconds Spike was declining Latin verbs out of desperation - amo, amas, amat - I love, you love, we love. Not hardly helpful.
Tried reciting poetry - aiming for Wordsworth’s tranquillity rather than Blake’s passion and somehow ending up with the clarity of Milton. Thinking, perhaps for the first time, he understood Paradise Lost, ‘cos by Lucifer he wasn’t sure whether he was falling or being pushed.
Gave up long division - mathematics was never his strong point or so the masters used to say. And that proved his undoing, ‘cos Dru was off again. Claws ripped gashes that spilled blood. Opened him from collar to sternum, next stop his heart or Australia. Quim like a fucking vice and then it was more than blood, it was him howling, him spilling and… Oh shit, Angelus was going to throw an absolute fit.
What they actually got was a round of applause because, as Spike reflected later, you never could tell with Angelus.
***
It was the older vampire that carried Dru back to St. Helier, her body limp and unresponsive in his arms. Spike followed along, concern personified. Confused by what he saw as her atypical behaviour, he juggled the need for quiet as they passed human settlements with persistent enquiries about Drusilla’s well being.
"Are you sure she’s all right? That was an odd turn she had."
"Will, shut up. She’s fine just exhausted."
"Yeah but… What was all that? On the beach, I mean… Not that I’m complaining mind. Best shag I’ve ever had off of her. Just… different, you know. Bit, umm…"
Angelus stopped and gently placed Drusilla on the grass, taking a moment to really look at Spike before addressing him. The wounds on his chest were all but healed, though his shirt was bloodstained. Hair a riot of overlong curls, with sand, grass and dirt ground in to it. He looked liked a tramp, except for his eyes. Eyes - full of emotion, as always. Confusion and worry for his lover. Angelus wondered briefly if he’d ever felt that way about Darla. Probably, soon after he was turned. Before she’d shown her true colours the first time, in that barn, smacking him round the head with a shovel before stealing the only horse. Since then, probably not. He’d learned a hard lesson that night. That Darla was who she was and didn’t need him to be what she was. It was about time Spike learned the same lesson.
"She’s not a child, you know."
Eyes narrowing, Spike glared up at him. "What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"
Angelus indicated the prone body of the powerful vampire lying between them. "Drusilla. You treat her like a child. She has you wrapped around her little finger, twisting at her beck and call, a fish on a hook. Sooner or later she’ll leave you, then what will you do?"
Now the blue contained surprise and denial. "What’d she want to leave me for? I love her, don’t I."
"Because she’s a vampire, Will. Not a child, not a human woman. A vampire. Like me, like Darla. Like you, though sometimes I wonder."
"Sod off, Angelus! Yer just jealous." Spike sank to his knees next to Dru, fresh mud adhering to his already filthy trousers and reached out a hand, stroking her face gently as her eyes fluttered open to greet his. As he spoke, his voice softened along with the expression on his face. "You don’t understand. No one understands. What we have. I love her and-and she needs me. She’ll always need me. We’re forever, you know? Nothin’ll change that. Nothing."
***
"You could have brought them to the servant’s entrance," Darla hissed the moment the three of them entered the front door of the cottage. "Did you pause even for a moment to think what people might say?"
Angelus looked from his lover, dressed in elegantly cut hard wearing wool, her cheeks flushed and warm from a recent feed, to his childer, still garbed in the clothing they’d worn in London and obviously undernourished, and blinked slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was antagonise Darla but… "Frankly, I don’t really care what the neighbours think."
There wasn’t a conversation, not a verbal one anyway. Darla glared at Angelus, trying to find fault and, for a change, he didn’t drop his eyes and capitulate. Dru was his and, by default, so was Will, and he was getting fed up with them being shoved aside every time Darla wanted him exclusively. If she wanted him at her side in Paris she was just going to have to learn to compromise.
And eventually compromise she did. With a huff of defeated annoyance, she turned on her heel and stalked up the stairs, shooting back over her shoulder, "Just ensure they look presentable. We’re leaving for Paris tomorrow and I refuse to travel with them if they continue to resemble the worst type of vagabond."
"What’s got her in such a snit?" Spike tossed his ditty bag down on the hallstand and helped Drusilla out of her coat. "Anyone would’ve thought she missed us," he added with more than a hint of sarcasm.
Angelus stared after Darla, hardly registering that Spike had spoken. After a few moments of silence, he muttered, "Get cleaned up." and took off up the stairs himself.
"Paris! Fuck!" Now it was Spike’s turn to stare up the stairs, his mouth gaping around his words as Dru’s revelations of the previous night returned to him. Did that mean there was a baby involved and… Bugger, hadn’t he promised Dru something about helping it take a journey or something?
"Dru? Love?"
But Drusilla was already heading towards the kitchen, smelling, as Spike did, the enticing scent of live food. Slightly panicked by his insight, he hurried after her, hopeful of dinner and some answers. It wasn’t to be.
"Dru, about Paris?"
"Paris?"
"Yeah. And the-the baby."
Her eyes went wide, peering around the woman’s neck she was busy licking. "A baby? Oh, I’d like a little baby, Spike. Will you get one for me? A present for princess."
***
When Angelus got upstairs he found a very disgruntled Darla pacing around the bedroom they shared while Bethan carefully folded and hung clothes into the portmanteau. He lingered in the doorway, unsure for the first time in many years of his welcome. He hadn’t seen Darla this agitated in a very long time.
Sensing his presence, she snapped, "Get out," at the lady’s maid and waited until the minion had scurried away. Only then did Darla approach him, slowly and with an unfathomable expression on her face. She looked pensive, worried, not something Angelus was accustomed to at all. Darla was a rock. In all their years together she had never been at a loss for a plan, be it hunting down their next meal or dealing with Holtz. Nothing fazed her.
"I need to tell you some things." Her hand hovered inches away from his chest as though she were afraid to touch him and he frowned, confused by this sudden strange mood. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on and Darla pressed a finger against his lips. "No. For the moment I need you to listen. You can ask all the questions you want later."
**
The Master’s Lair, London 1647
"Master, please don’t send me away. There must be another who can perform this task for you?" The young vampire was virtually shaking as she pressed herself to the ground at her sire’s feet. For nigh on forty years his lair had described the limits of her world and she was content at his side, the favoured childe, pampered and cosseted by his minions. Humanity seemed more than a lifetime away and she harboured no desire to return.
"Darla, you are the only one I can trust with this task." He reached down and captured her hand, drawing her to her feet to stand in front of him. "Recent events have brought this prophecy into my hands and I must have information. You will be my eyes and ears in the world above. You will be my vanguard, my protector. You will find this benighted babe, this offspring of the death flower and the corrupted prince, and deliver it into my hands. Through you we will ensure that the brat’s demise cannot threaten our order or me. And when it is done, you will return to my side and we will rule together until hell itself is unleashed by the old ones."
A single claw caught under Darla’s chin and lifted her tearful face. The Master cocked his head and stared at his childe thoughtfully before asking, "Do you accept this charge, dear one?"
Darla nodded with more confidence than she felt. "I do. I will deliver this child to you and so protect our line and the order for all time."
**
Angelus stared at his lover, rendered speechless by the tale she had told. He was right. Exactly as he’d suspected in London, Darla was plotting with her sire and yet not against him. "This child," he started hesitantly, "born of the death flower and the corrupted prince? You believe it to be…"
"Lily’s baby. Yes. Many occult signs have heralded its birth and the parentage fits the requirements of the prophecy. But Angelus," she dropped to her knees in front of him, grabbing both his hands and staring up into his eyes. "It is vastly more complicated than that." Pausing, Darla gathered her thoughts. "The Master let me leave as he believed that when this prophecy was fulfilled I would forsake you and return to his side. Now the time has come I find I do not want that. I want…"
She stood, turning away from him and clenching her fists at her side before continuing. "I don’t want the sewers, Angelus. Nor the Master’s lair. I want a room with a view and soft beds. I want Bottecelli’s frescos and the rush of the hunt. I want - I want to keep this face. To stay beautiful not get trapped behind my demon forever like the Master. I want…"
Angelus rose behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her small frame back against his chest and lowering his face to her hair. "Then that is what you shall have, my love," he whispered. "The old bat will just have to learn to live without you."
Twisting in his arms, Darla turned to face him and raised her hands to cup his face, her own sad and resigned. "He will not. Not while he believes this child exists in the world and that he can defeat the prophecy. I was going to try to steal it before he realised it had been born. Hide it somewhere safe from any demons."
"From demons?"
"Yes. The prophecy states that the child will be destroyed at a demon’s hand and that its death will see the beginning of the end for the Order of Aurelius."
Angelus nodded in understanding, impressed by Darla’s plan. "So by keeping it safe you hoped it would live out its normal span and the prophecy would pass by unfulfilled. Thus neither would the Order fall, nor would you have to return to the Master’s side."
"Precisely. And Jersey seemed like the ideal place, until Luke found us, and now Lily is going to Paris, which will make it even more difficult. The place will be crawling with spies…"
Darla’s voice was starting to take on a slightly hysterical edge, so Angelus held her closer revelling in this rare chance to comfort his normally unflappable sire. "It can still be done. We will do it together. Come on, lover, if we could outrun Holtz for twenty years we can surely steal one baby between us."