[Reviews - 638]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 4100 times

- Text Size +




OMG, I finally got time to do this chapter!! *headdesk*
CHAPTER 22
Travers found himself nodding in agreement, once again intrigued by this legendary vampire. He only hoped he'd be able to garner a few moments in order to properly interview William the Bloody. Perhaps then he would be able to fathom what change of heart had occurred that resulted in the vampire coming to his aid, rather than ripping his throat out.

The situation inside the truck had grown decidedly terse as the miles slipped by. Angel couldn't help but worry about the strength of the glamour spell that had been used to transform the exterior of the armored truck into the unassuming guise of a recreational vehicle the moment they had fled from the base, unsure whether it would hold until they reached their destination.

In the back of the truck, Christine had taken charge. The situation was something new for her, typically being more comfortable taking orders rather than giving them. But she'd taken to it with surprising ease. Wanting to assure herself of Buffy's comfort, Christine had asked Spike to relocate the pregnant slayer to a pile of folded blankets that had been placed on the hard floor of the truck, hoping the makeshift mattress would provide more padding and help ease the pain in her lower back. The watchers had been directed to face forward in an attempt to give Buffy a bit more privacy than had previous been afforded her. Christine replaced the tweed coat Buffy still wore with another blanket, doing her best to ensure that the girl wasn't exposing anything more than necessary.

Confident that she was the only one in the back who would see anything of an intimate nature, the female soldier turned towards the front of the truck to make sure Buffy's spread-eagle position wouldn't be visible to others in the rear view mirror.

  Christine's eyes narrowed as she squinted into the reflective glass, sure that what she was seeing was some sort of optical illusion. Shifting her body, she peered into it from another direction, starting slightly when her own reflection came into view.

While the guy driving refused to reflect.

  Spike caught the panicked look Christine sent in his direction. "What's got your knickers in a twist, eh?"

Christine worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "Ok, at the risk of sounding completely retarded.... You do know the guy driving the truck doesn't have a reflection, right?"

A small ghost of a smile appeared on Spike's face. "Well, yeah. That there is Peaches."

"Spike..." the vampire in question growled in warning, eavesdropping easily from the front seat.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Fine, that's Angelus."

"Angel," the dark-haired man corrected automatically.


"You could make your own bloody introductions," Spike grumbled, tossing a hard look over his shoulder

Christine's eyes darted between the figure seated in the front cab and the vampire who could have killed her - but hadn't. "So... he's like you?"

"No!" Both Spike and Angel denied vehemently, leaving Christine even more confused.

"But... you're both vampires, right?" she looked helplessly at the two Englishmen for an explanation, knowing that this was their field of expertise, yet finding them engrossed in their own conversation and steadfastly ignoring everything else.

"I have a soul. Spike doesn't," Angel tossed back.

"Oh." Christine tossed that around in her head for a few seconds, finding the revelation far less disturbing than it should have been. She didn't know exactly what that significance held, but after everything she had been through in the past twenty-four hours, the idea of Spike not having a soul just lacked the conviction to bother her. From what she could tell, he didn't seem to be missing much with the absence of one. But it did bug her that she couldn't see Angel's reflection in the mirror and just hoped that he couldn't actually see anything since she couldn't very well tell him to shut his eyes.

Xander had grown unnaturally silent while he sat next to Angel. The combined effect of coming to terms with his friend's pregnancy, the almost unsuccessful rescue, coupled with the slowly dawning realization that he was going to be there when Buffy had her baby had managed to silence him as not much else ever had.

Both Giles and Travers couldn't help but view the impending birth with a profound sense of trepidation - yet the academic implications of what they were about to witness could not be denied. The child of a vampire and a slayer. Slayers didn't typically live long enough to have children, and the supernatural origins at work here went far beyond the typical span of normal delivery concerns.

Travers found himself in an unusual position, something that hadn't happened ever during his tenure at the Watcher's Council.

He was concerned about his slayer.

His usual consideration for slayers had never extended beyond their skill and competence. Certainly, he had never allowed himself to form any type of a personal attachment. One of the many things the Council instilled in their employees was to never form attachments, the typical British reserve making that an easy task. However, from the day that she had been called, Buffy Summers had defied tradition, bringing her normally reliable watcher down with her. Travers had frowned upon the close relationship Rupert had developed with his charge, and had even considered re-assigning Buffy to someone else.

Timing and Buffy's disappearance had curtailed his plans, however. He'd experienced no real regret at Miss Summers' abduction, merely a tempered annoyance that the Hellmouth was without a slayer to protect it, and subsequently lacking the means of securing a replacement. To his surprise, Rupert and the souled vampire, Angel, had stepped in and taken care of any situations that arose; and Travers had been able to ignore that the slayer had gone missing, merely waiting until he had received word of her death once a new slayer was called.

But now? Now he was beginning to appreciate what Rupert Giles had tried to tell him time and time again - something that he had refused to acknowledge.

Buffy Summers was special.

He was suddenly shamed by his previous callous treatment of her - and those who had come before her. It was not easy for him to admit when he was wrong, but this was something he could finally admit to himself.

He had made a mistake.

From an academic standpoint, observing the interaction between Buffy and William the Bloody was beyond fascinating, and Travers settled in to observe more closely, wishing he had something with which to document this unusual event. Furtively, he turned his head to check the slayer's progress.
 ***

Buffy's contractions quickly became more intense, stealing her breath and sapping her strength. Travers kept a close eye on the map and clock, again cursing his ego that had assured him that stringent precautionary measures were unnecessary.

It was a race against the clock. A harrowing journey to remain out of the military's clutches while ensuring the continued well-being of the laboring slayer.

But their time had suddenly run out.

With a look of utter panic, Buffy's eyes frantically found Christine's at the peak of another contraction.

"I think this is it..."

Christine nodded and with a warning look at the males present who were attempting to avert their eyes, brought Buffy's knees up and gently parted them so she could take a look. Modesty had long since taken a back seat, and Christine was doing the best with the supplies that had been located in the truck's storage spaces. Fortunately, the armored truck, with its mystical convergence, had been used as a getaway car on multiple occasions and was well stocked with useful items. The interior had been completely stripped except for the barest necessities, offering more room to work with, and for that, Christine was grateful.

But upon inspection of the first aid kit, she realized there was not much in it that would be of assistance during a delivery. The need for bandages and antiseptic not as high up on the list as other more specialized supplies.

But now was not the time to lament on what the kit lacked, instead Christine found her heart skipping a few beats when she peered between Buffy's parted thighs. Buffy had been right, this was it. They were too far away from their rendezvous point - and with nothing but miles and miles of desert surrounding them, time had become their enemy.

Looking up, Christine captured Buffy's pain-glazed eyes. "I see the top of the head," the soldier announced quietly, hoping her panic wasn't being reflected in her voice.

Fear and relief stamped itself on Buffy's face and Christine took a deep breath to get herself pulled together. Her friend didn't need freaking out right now; she needed an air of confidence that Christine really knew what she was doing.

Even if she really didn't.

The silence inside the truck became telling, as if everyone was holding their breath in unison, all of them not able to help the thoughts that ran through their heads that they were glad they weren't the ones about to give birth.

Christine drew her eyes away from Buffy's to look at Spike, wanting to make sure he knew that this was the final overture. She owed him this; instead of killing her as had been the plan, Spike had essentially spared her life, and ended up saving it as well. His quick nod to her was reassuring.

Taking another deep calming breath, Christine prepared herself to deliver their baby.

After an addition twenty minutes of excruciating contractions, Buffy dug deep to give a final push and delivered a baby girl into Christine's waiting hands, coming just as Christine had been about to inquire how far away the nearest medical facility might be. The strength-stealing drugs the slayer had been given at the base had made bearing down to push the baby down the birth canal an almost impossible task, but she’d managed to persevere in the end, calling on some hidden strength of mothers round the world. Christine didn't think that Spike was even aware that he had gone all fangy and had grown increasingly growly during every contraction while he whispered encouragement into Buffy's ear. In light of everything else that had happened, Christine found herself not the least bit threatened by this brutal reminder of exactly what Spike was.

With one last order for Buffy to push and a harsh cry from the girl in question, a lusty cry reverberated through the van as the baby was thrust from its warm secure environment of its last nine months and rewarding their efforts with a tiny cry.

Hands shaking and tears streaming down her face, Christine quickly wrapped the newborn in a blanket and gently laid her on Buffy's stomach. Using a piece of twine, she tied off the umbilical cord in two places and severed it with the trauma sheers that Xander had sterilized; fervently hoping that she was doing it right.

When nothing changed in the quality of the baby's cries, Christine gave a sigh of relief, her panic over having done something wrong beginning to diminish slightly.

"It's a girl," Christine announced unnecessarily, catching Buffy's eyes for a brief second, choking up as she watched Buffy and Spike greet their daughter for the first time. Carefully, Buffy scooted up just the slightest bit so that she could hold her baby.

"We knew it was girl," Buffy remarked softly, barely able to comprehend that this had truly happened, that she was getting to hold her child. Her face transformed into a mask of serene bliss, the pain of the birth already slithering away to be buried into her sub-conscious. She looked up at Spike with a soft smile. "We have a baby girl."

Spike's ridges and fangs melted away, and his own blue eyes were suspiciously bright. Gathering Buffy into his arms, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, suddenly incapable of the speech.

They’d had every intention of following Christine's orders to keep their backs to Buffy, but the allure of the impending birth grew too much and both Travers and Giles had found themselves turning around as the slayer struggled through her final stages of labor. They couldn't help but watch with an almost morbid sense of fascination, finding themselves studying William the Bloody and his participation in the birth with an almost reverent regard. His interaction with their slayer was truly remarkable.

When the cellular phone invaded the tranquil silence following the birth, Travers gave a slight jump of alarm. When he was assured that the compound -and those inside - had been eliminated, he informed the others dispassionately. In light of this most recent miracle, it seemed almost anticlimactic that their enemy no longer posed as much of a threat.

They still had to reach the safe zone, however.
tbc
ok, I'll try to get the next chapter up as quick as possible but I'm going to the Angel Booster Bash in LA tomorrow so well... not promises, LOL! Except the promise of lots of piccies :)





You must login (register) to review.