Chapter 3
“Ooof!” Buffy grunted as she landed hard on her back. Fighting demons and being pregnant at the same time weren’t exactly the most complementary things in the world, but as a Slayer, she was making it work, most of the time. She not only had herself to worry about, but she had her child. His child. It wasn’t like protecting Willow or Xander or anyone else. It was harder because she had to protect herself even more than before. If she was going to fall, she had to fall just the right way. It was terrifying, but she was adjusting.
The demon, yellow, scaly and with six inch fingernails in bad need of a manicure, lunged at her, and she flattened her arms to the ground, threw her weight into her legs, hoisted herself up in a position Yoga instructors would be in awe of, and kicked the demon, sending him flying over her and landing, his back cracking against the sturdy trunk of an old oak tree.
Getting up and brushing herself off, she stared at the dead beast, trying to think of something witty to say, but she only found herself rubbing her aching back, thankful that the fight was over. She had lived one more night, and she was one night closer to bringing her child into the uncertainty of the world she fought every day to protect.
“Hey, lady? You ok?” Buffy spun around to see a police officer slowing to a halt. “Got a call about some sounds of a struggle.”
“Um, me? I’m fine. No struggling here, officer.” The officer, thankfully, couldn’t see the body of the dead demon, so in hopes of keeping it that way, Buffy made her way closer to the car. “I’m just on my way home.” She looked around, uncertain of her exact surroundings. The demon had led her on quite a chase, and now she was turned around.
“Do you know where you’re going?” he asked.
“Not exactly.”
“Need a lift?”
“No, I can find my way…I just…well, where’s North street? I can get there from here.”
“It’s about fifteen blocks that way.” He made a motion with his hand. “Come on, let me drive you home. You don’t look like you’re in any condition to be out here, especially this late at night.”
“Hey, I can take care of myself,” she said defensively, but her feet were aching, and her stomach was growling. She wanted to get home before dawn, at least. “Oh, fine.” She walked around the car, eyeing the policeman warily for a moment before calculating that he could probably be trusted. Still, she kept a hand ready to draw out her boot knife just in case he pulled anything funny. New York City was a scary place, she’d been told. Now she lived there, and at times, it seemed more hellish than the Hellmouth itself.
“New to the city, huh?” He coasted back out onto the street and turned in the right direction after Buffy gave him her address.
“Yeah. Really new. As in just moved last week.”
“Oh, that new?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It shows, huh?” The officer smiled, flashing a row of pearly whites. Buffy noticed how he seemed to puff his chest out just a bit. He was good looking enough, but Buffy couldn’t help asking herself if this guy was for real.
“Just a little,” he laughed in a haughty, put-on way that made her cringe a little. He was kind of like Wesley when he first came to Sunnydale, only not British and more muscle-bound. “So where are you from?”
“Nowhere that’s anywhere anymore.”
“That’s mysterious.”
“Yeah, well I’m a mysterious kinda gal, I guess.” Buffy didn’t make any indication that she was going to tell him anything about her, so he let out a little sigh.
“I’m from Indiana, myself. Moved here right out of college, so I know my way around pretty well by now. Maybe I could show…”
“Look, Officer…” she glanced at his badge, narrowing her eyes to make out the name in the dark “Andrews…I’m not looking for…” She shifted enough that her expanding belly was revealed by a beam of moonlight.
“Oh…I’m sorry, you’re married…”
“No,” she said slowly. “What? Because I’m pregnant, you automatically think I have a husband? What century are you living in?”
“Whoa, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you.” Buffy turned to stare out the front windshield.
“If you must know, the father’s…he died.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“I didn’t mean to stir up bad feelings.”
“It’s ok. He died…well, he died saving my life.” She placed her hand on her belly, and the depth of those words cut deeply.
“Sounds like the kind of man your kid’s gonna be proud to be part of.”
“Yeah,” Buffy said softly, a sad smile playing at her lips. “He was a good man.”
The rest of the drive was silent, and before too long, the car was slowing in front of the apartment building.
“You gonna be ok from here? I gotta head back to the station.”
“Yeah, thanks for the ride.”
“If you need anything…here’s my card.” He handed it to her and drove off. Under the flickering street light, Buffy read the card aloud. “Officer Michael Andrews N.Y.P.D.” She sighed and stuffed the card into her jacket pocket before heading into the building.
Once inside her small apartment, she sprawled out on the bed and closed her eyes, dialing speed dial 7 on her phone. It wasn’t long before she got a chirpy “hello?” from the other end.
“Hey Wil.”
“Buffy? Hey!”
“Were you awake?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I just got out of the shower. What’s up? Everything ok? How’s the baby? Oh, did you find out what it is yet? Am I asking too many questions?” Buffy laughed for the first time in what felt like a decade.
“I’m fine. So’s the baby. It’s making me look really fat, and I can’t fit into my cute jeans anymore. But it’s healthy, and…and we’re doing ok. I don’t know what it is…it was shy at the ultrasound. But it’s human. That’s good, right?”
“Very good,” Willow replied. “So have you talked to Angel?”
“No. I kind of decided not to go. I thought it might stir up too much…I just can’t deal with it right now. Seeing him would only remind me of the last time I saw him…when he gave me the amulet. And that just leads to hours of crying and spending time with Ben and Jerry. You know, they really need a new flavor.”
“Oh,” Willow said softly. “I guess I didn’t really think about how seeing Angel would make you…well, I guess it makes sense. Maybe…maybe you could still call him? Let him know what’s going on.”
“I don’t exactly know how to call up my ex-boyfriend and tell him that I’m carrying the child of another vampire whom he pretty much despises.” She shook her head. “Of course I can’t use the line ‘give him a chance.’ He’s not here to be given a chance. Not like anybody would if he was here.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, come on, Wil. Nobody really thought it was a good idea that we got the chip removed. Even with a soul…nobody trusted him.”
“You did,” Wil said softly. “And he knew that. He knew how you felt.”
“Yeah. And the dummy wouldn’t let me have my moment. I was telling him…I thought he wanted to hear it, and he just…he just told me I didn’t love him. And I did! I still do.”
“I know it’s hard. I still…I think about Tara, and then I realize…she’s gone, and…and I can’t even visit her grave anymore. It’s all gone.” Buffy sniffled, nodding as if Willow could see the gesture. Her mother was gone, too. So many people were lost in that abyss, taken down to Hell unwillingly, and Buffy was only grateful her mother was gone long before that had happened.
“It just doesn’t make sense, Wil. He’s been gone for months, but it doesn’t feel…final.”
“Maybe because he wasn’t really…”
“Alive?” Buffy finished.
“Well, yeah. I mean, all those years, he was a vampire…still was when he…you know?”
“But I counted on him, Wil.” Tears were forming in her eyes. “I counted on him to be there, because I just came to expect he would be, even when I didn’t want him there. And then I…”
“Fell in love with him?”
“Yeah,” she breathed. “I don’t expect you to understand. Spike…I don’t even think he understood. After he got his soul, he…well, he was punishing himself for the things he’d done. I just wish I had the chance to go back and tell him…what’s past is past, and I’m not angry for the things that happened before…”
“I’m sure he knows.”
“Why because he’s floating on a cloud somewhere listening? We both know that’s not true.” Buffy chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “It would be easier to believe though.”
“Yeah,” Willow said softly. “Maybe…maybe you should come for a visit? After the baby’s born, I mean. It might do you both some good to get away.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Umm, how are things there?”
“Good. We found another Slayer. Maria. She’s kind of…well…picture Faith on a really bad day.”
“Oh, fun,” Buffy said quietly.
“Any luck on your end?”
“Nah. After I sent Jess and Liz your way, I haven’t found anymore.”
“Hey, you found two before we’d even been gone a week. I’d say that’s pretty good.”
“I guess I’ve been a little preoccupied.”
“Understandable. Hey, why don’t you get some rest? I’ll call you tomorrow…your tomorrow, and I’ll check in. Ok?”
“Yeah. Thanks for listening, Wil.”
“Hey, that’s what best friends are for, right?”
“Yeah. Bye.”
“Bye.” Buffy hung up and stared up at the ceiling, feeling a little kick in the side from her child. She placed her hand where the tiny foot—or was it elbow—was putting pressure. Smiling, she had to chuckle to herself as she stared across the room at the makeshift nursery she’d created. A crib and a changing table in the corner didn’t exactly qualify as every parent’s idea of their child’s dream room, but it was ok for now. Not even six months ago, her main thoughts were of strategies and ways to get info on The First and the impending apocalypse. Now she spent her time thinking about how she was going to juggle changing diapers and decapitating demons. Her child wasn’t even born yet, and it had already faced mortal danger countless times. She knew that it wouldn’t get easier. It never did.
“We’ll be ok,” she finally breathed. “We’ll make his death count for something. I promise.”
***
“Bloody Hell it’s good to be back!” he laughed, feeling lighter than air, which was funny, considering he was solid through, completely corporeal again. Grabbing Fred, startling her, he gave her a squeeze. “I don’t know what you did, luv, but it was bloody brilliant! You can feel me, right? I’m not dreamin’?”
“No, you’re not,” she said awkwardly but with a smile on her face. “Honestly…I’m not sure what I did either. I just…these texts that Wesley gave me…I don’t even know what they say, but he said there might be something to it. You’re really back!”
“I am,” he said merrily, clapping his hands together, pondering what he should do first. After months of not being able to touch, drink, smoke, feel, he knew exactly what he wanted, and in that moment he had to have it. Grabbing Fred by the shoulders, he watched her gasp and widen her eyes.
“Luv, where is it?”
“What?”
“My flask. I need it.”
“What?”
“I need a drink! Now.”
“Spike, that’s the first thing you want to do?”
“Well, not the first,” he said suggestively, but not geared toward her, and she could tell, because he seemed to be looking past her, out the window at the bright sunny day that wasn’t making his flesh sizzle, thanks to the mojo the folks at Wolfram and Hart had installed for their boss, Captain Forehead.
“Why don’t we go see Angel? I’m sure he’d be happy to hear that…”
“No, I’ve had just about enough of this place. I’m leaving.”
“What? You can’t leave without knowing…”
“Knowing what? How I’m back? Luv, I don’t really care about the mumbo jumbo behind it. All I know is that I’ve got a flask calling my name, and there’s a certain girl I need to see.”
“And you don’t even know where to begin looking for her. Spike, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get your flask. Then we can talk to Angel and see about getting in touch with Buffy.”
“Like he’d really help me find her. Sorry, truly am, but I don’t think the first thing he’s gonna want to do is help me get in touch with a girl we both happen to fancy. I think I’ll be watching my back from now on, make sure he hasn’t got his hands on anything pointy and wooden.”
“Spike, Angel wouldn’t do that.”
“Well, I don’t think I’ll be sticking around to find out. Got a girl to see.”
“That’s all you think about isn’t it?”
“What? Buffy?”
“Yeah.”
“Well…yeah. I mean…it’s…Buffy,” Spike said quietly, his tone becoming a bit more serious. “She’s the reason I’m here. I don’t know why it is I’m here, but it’s got to be about her.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t. I just…I feel it. I feel like it’s not over. There’s something I have to do, still, and I think it’s because of her. Sorry, Fred. Don’t think I’m not grateful, because I am. But I’ve got to find her. I can’t stay here. I think I’ve worn out my welcome anyway. I’ll write. That is…whenever I get to wherever the hell it is I’m going.”
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