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*A/N: Sorry about Buffy’s emotional detachment, but being pregnant is not easy. Your emotions are haywire…anyway, there is some happiness to come (far a little while), so enjoy! Please reveiw, and let me know what you think the future should have in store for Buffy and Spike...*

Chapter Eighteen: We’re Going To Get Through This

She sat impatiently in her old bedroom. All that was left was her bed, and that was going to go to the Giles’ residence as soon as Spike got off of work at the gallery. She was nervous…knowing that she would be sleeping in an empty house with Spike at her side. Her fiancé. That was the part that was scaring her.

She was only eighteen. Did she really want marriage? Was she looking forward to spending the rest of her life with him? She loved him, no doubt about that, and she wanted her son to grow up in a happy family, but how long would it be until they ended up like her parents, the silent dinners, the angry arguments…the secretary. It all remained a bad memory, locked in the back of her brain. Maybe things would change when the baby comes, maybe she feel like she was doing the right thing by marrying him.

“Buffster!” Xander’s voice broke through her thoughts.

“Hey, Xand! What are you doing here?” She questioned, standing from her bed, and hugging him.

“Dawn let me in…Anya and I have been…avoidy. What’s up with you? You looked like you were having serious thoughts.” Xander said.

Buffy nodded. “Yeah…a week and a half, and I won’t be carrying this watermelon.” She put a hand on her belly. “We’re going to move into the new house tonight…sleep there for the first time.”

“No hanky panky.” Xander warned, pointing a finger at her.

“Alexander Harris! I can’t have sex like this. Besides, it’s the last thing on my mind.” Buffy rolled her eyes.

“What exactly is on your mind?” He questioned, pulling her to sit beside him on the bed.

Buffy looked around the empty room. “This…all of this. My life as a teenager, it’s over.”

“I felt the same when Anya told me she was pregnant, before the abortion. I couldn’t help but tell myself that I would be her husband, and be a better father than my own.” Xander had a faraway look on his face, as though he was picturing the white picket fence.

“What happened?” Buffy questioned.

“Reality happened…I know that I could give her a better life in five years than I can now.” He admitted.

Buffy nodded her head in agreement. “I don’t regret keeping the baby…I know that I love him, and I’ll never let him go, but I do wonder what would have happened if I wasn’t pregnant. Would Spike still have come back and proposed?”

“In all honesty, I think he would have, Buffy.” Xander said with a slight smile on his face. “He loves you more than anything. I know this not only because he tells me, but also because I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. If you’re not sure about marriage, decide now, before the baby is born.”

“You don’t see it in my eyes?” Buffy questioned.

“It’s a little cloudy.” He said sadly.

*

They stood together, looking at the room in awe. It was perfect. The carpet was beige, the curtains were maroon, the walls were a crème, and the bedspread was decorative with the same colors. The furniture was dark oak, and Buffy’s bed did the room justice. It wasn’t the room of a teenager; it was the room of a couple.

Buffy looked up at Spike with a smile. “It’s perfect.” She stated, her gaze shifting to the picture Dawn made her. She walked over to it, hanging on the wall, and reached up, her fingers gently going over a picture of her and Spike before he left…

“Why touch the picture, luv? The real thing is right here.” He said with a cocky smirk.

She turned, returning his grin, and made her way to him. “I miss that Spike.” She said.

“What Spike? What do you mean?” He questioned.

“Cocky, arrogant, conceded asshole Spike…I miss him.” She replied.

“Do you, now?” He questioned, playfully making his way to her.

“It’s the Spike I fell in love with.” She said.

“And you’re saying I’m not him anymore, pet?”

“I’m saying you’re hiding him because you think I’m too fragile to deal.”

“That’s bloody bullshit.” He didn’t understand why, but that comment pissed him off.

“No it isn’t,” she countered. “I know the real Spike, and he’s a man…a real man, and you’re just his shadow.”

“You’re calling me a pussy?” He questioned angrily.

“Well…you know what they say, you are what you eat.” She replied, jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood she’d created.

“Fuck you, Buffy. I’m going to my room.” He turned to walk out the door, her hand on his arm, halting him.

“What’s your problem? I make a comment and you runaway? This is your room, Spike.” She stated.

“Upstairs is still my rooms, luv, and until that baby is out of your stomach, and I can show you what a real man I am, I won’t be sleeping anywhere near you.”

*

She jolted awake in a cold sweat, the pain so threatening, her insides tightening. She got up, and tried to call his name, but nothing came out. She stood, stumbling out of the bedroom, and toward the stairs to the attic.

“Spike,” she whispered his name, knowing that time was not on her side.

He slept like a rock; she knew that, so she crawled up the stairs. She felt faint as she reached the top, and saw him lying on his side, facing the wall.

“Spike,” she attempted again, and he stirred. She made her way to the bed, and sat beside him, shaking him awake.

“Huh? What? What is it, Buffy?” He questioned sleepily.

“I-I think it’s happening.” She said; her face contorted with pain.

Spike shot out of bed, rushing to the stairs. He was half way down when he realized he left Buffy, and he was naked. “Buggering fucking hell!” He shouted running back up, stumbling around into flannel pajama bottoms, and helping Buffy down the stairs and into the waiting Desoto.

“We’re going to get through this.” He assured her, as she practiced her lamas.





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