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Summary
“You’re hellborn?” The doctor states more than asks.
Affronted, Angel almost spits out a ‘no’ but thinks the better of it at the last second.
“What’s it to you?”
The doctor shrugs, bored. “You’re pregnant, doll. Surely you must’ve suspected something by this point? 3, 4 months along, probably-“
Angel sits stunned, eyes staring unblinkingly as the doctor rattles on.
No fucking way. No fucking way. This should be impossible. In fact, it is impossible.
“What the fuck?” Angel whispers, hand shaking as he dares to touch the edge of the bump.