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24. Closer

Two Days Later:

Buffy wakes from a nap and sees Spike standing before the crib Xander made for her on the other side of the room. From beneath the covers she watches Spike run his fingers along the rim of the crib. As she sits up he turns to face her.

“You’re up,” he says and Buffy smiles. Then he makes his way over to her and sits on the bed.

Buffy can tell that he’s worried about her. She knows he can see the circles under her eyes, he can see how warn out she is, how weak; just like everyone else.

“How are you?” He asks and she forces a smile.

“Good… I um, I’ve been thinking about names, would you… would you maybe want to help me pick one.” Buffy watches the light sparkle behind his eyes and knows she’s succeeded in distracting him from her dying for a moment.

“Yeah, I’d love to… what’ve you got so far.”

Buffy smiles a genuine smile this time and reaches for the notebook and baby name book that sit on her nightstand. She pulls them into her lap and Spike moves to sit beside her in bed. He looks over her shoulder at her notebook and the scribbling she has there.

“I like Ashley, but I feel like it’s too popular.”

“Want something more unique then… like Buffy,” Spike teases.

“Hey now, I like Buffy.”

Spike chuckles. “Okay, okay, what else.”

“I like Jordyn, or Linnie… but I don’t know, I want to find something that has more meaning… I thought about Destiny, or Hope, but they’re too… I don’t know, too obvious.”

“Well let’s have a look-see at this then,” Spike says grabbing the name book out of her lap and begins to flip through it. She watches the various expressions flash by his eyes as he reads one name after another. “Here we go, Abigail, means joy of the father,” Spike says with a grin and Buffy smiles, but then she shakes her head ‘no’. “No? Alright…” Spike flips halfway through the book. “Kalila, means beloved.”

“It’s pretty.”

“But not it,” Spike concludes from her tone of voice. He flips back to the front of the book. “Ashlyn,” he says, this time in a hushed voice as if he were reading it to himself, “Ashlyn,” he says again deciding he likes it, “means dream or vision.”

Images of Buffy’s dream, of walking on the beach with cotton candy clouds flutters through her mind. Spike looks to her and can see her thinking about it.

“We could call her Linnie for short,” he says and sees Buffy nodding her head as she thinks about it.

“Ashlyn Joyce Summers,” Buffy says, “I like the sound of that.”

They both smile at one another then Spike reaches out to her and rests his hand on her stomach. Buffy lays her hands atop his and looks down at the weave of their fingers, gold and ivory crisscrossing over the red fabric of her shirt. They look up at the same time and their eyes meet. Emerald and Sapphire, both sparkling like gemstones as they stare at one another.

Spike’s eyes waver back and forth between Buffy’s eyes and lips. His other hand lifts to trace along her jawbone. She leans into his chilly, feather-light touch and closes her eyes. Then, unconsciously Buffy leans in closer, her lips parting just ever so slightly. When she opens her eyes she sees his divert their attention from her lips to stare into her green orbs once again. Her breath catches in her throat as she waits in anticipation for whatever comes next. In this moment she realizes how much she wants him to kiss her. And then he does. Spike leans in and runs his hand through her hair as his lips meet hers.

His hand on her stomach holds her tighter and slides to her side to pull her closer to him. Her hands move to hold him as well, one snaking up around his neck and the other resting on his thigh. He kisses her deep, his hands holding her tight trying to pull her closer. Spike is leaning in to kiss her as her round belly is pressed up tight against him. He wants to feel her flush against him, feel her breasts pushed up against his chest, but her belly’s in the way. Her fingers pull at his hair and kneed his leg. They both feel the want, the need to be close. They kiss hungrily and try to pull themselves closer.

Then Spike pulls away and sighs. He leans his forehead against hers and drops his hands to her belly, palming it like he would a basketball. Buffy sighs as well; they’re both feeling the awkwardness of having their baby between them. Spike kisses Buffy’s forehead then pulls away from her.

“Things are different now, between us, aren’t they?” Spike asks, allowing himself to say us, one word he avoided speaking before her for so long. He knows though that it won’t send her running this time.

Buffy nods. “Yeah, they are.”

They stare at one another for a moment in comfortable silence, smiles pulling at both their lips. The hope of something to come for them; hope for the future, for a relationship, this hope swarms in both their minds. It’s a bubbling happiness that makes them giddy to the point of giggling. Thoughts of being a real family, a real couple; the possibilities for what’s to come after the baby’s born send waves of excitement through them both.

Then Buffy’s smile begins to fade. She realizes that there is no hope for these things. No possibility of a relationship with Spike after the baby’s born; no possibility of a life for her at all. Her death is looming on the horizon like a thunder storm waiting to break. The smile vanishes from her face and her eyes start to grow dark.

“Spike,” Buffy says, “I need to ask you a favor.”

“Anything love.”

“Under the bed,” Spike makes a move to get up, but Buffy stops him, “no, not now… later, I don’t know when exactly, but when the time comes you’ll know…”

Spike's brow is drawn tight. “When the baby comes?”

“Yeah… yeah, when the baby comes… um, there’s a box, a shoebox under the bed, when the time comes I want you to open it.”

“Okay,” Spike says as if expecting her to say more, “that’s it, not gonna tell me anything else?”

Buffy’s eyes rock back and forth and her lips thin.

“No… it’ll all make sense when the time’s right,” Buffy says then leans forward and kisses Spike on the lips one last time. When she pulls away he looks at her with deep rooted fear in his eyes.

--

“Where’s my baby?” Buffy asks Spike again as they stand beneath the boardwalk on the beach.

The snow is falling more heavily around them now. Its flakes land on her red silk dress and soak through the fabric, they land on her skin and melt sending shivers coursing through her. As the flakes land on her lashes she watches Spike through blurred vision turn his head and face the water. Blinking the snowflakes away she follows his gaze.

She’s shivering now as the ocean comes into sight. She crosses her arms rubbing her hands up and down trying to warm herself, but it’s no use. Her teeth chatter and she feels Spike lean toward her from behind. She can feel his chilly breath inches from her ear.

“Go now,” Spike says in a whisper and slowly Buffy walks toward the water.

Then after a few steps she sees it. Beneath the waves that come crashing into the shore there is something floating beneath the surface. Blonde hair swirls around and is dragged back and forth with the tide. Buffy takes off running. The snow flies in her face, the cold air blows at her skin, but she doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop. She splashes into the freezing water without hesitation, dives in, and begins swimming out to her baby.

The icy water makes it hard to breathe; it’s so cold it feels like needles against her skin. Sharp, cold pain. Buffy takes a deep breath as she comes up for air feeling like she’s in the spot where she saw her daughter’s hair beneath the water. Frantically she looks around, but does not see her. Buffy spins around in the water splashing violently and looks back at the shore. There she sees Spike standing at the edge of the water; in his arms he holds a young girl with blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes. Buffy gasps for air and spits up water as she struggles to stay afloat. She brushes a strand of wet hair out of her eyes and continues to tread water, but she’s quickly growing tired.

“Spike,” She tries to yell, but just ends up swallowing water. She tastes the sea salt and looks toward the shore through blurry vision, her legs grow tired, her muscles are worn. The ocean tide pulls at her dragging her under, and then with one last glance at Spike and her baby Buffy is sucked down beneath the surface.

Buffy’s eyes snap open. It’s time. Beside her Spike lies fast asleep, his arm resting protectively across her; and through the window Buffy sees snow falling to the ground. It’s a white haze beyond the window pane and Buffy knows the storm has broken. She leans over to Spike and kisses him on the forehead then slowly and quietly she slips out beneath his grasp. Buffy grabs the notepad and pen from off her nightstand and rips a page free. She writes a short letter then folds the paper in half and leaves it resting on her side of the bed.

--

She pulled out of the driveway in her mother’s SUV. For a moment Buffy had worried that it wouldn’t start, but once she turned the key she knew even if the engine had been dead the Powers that Be would have seen to it that it’d be running. For as many things that are out there against her, for as much darkness that there is seeking to harm her baby, Buffy knows that there are powerful sources rooting for her as well. She has good energy on her side.

The slayer has parked the SUV. It sits practically on the beach as Buffy was unable to see where the road ended and the sand began. The snow has grown nearly four inches thick on the ground and falls from the sky in thick clumps. Now she walks barefoot toward the board walk wearing nothing but a thin silk nightgown and her mother’s white afghan across her shoulders.

Her toes are so cold that she can’t feel them anymore; most of her exposed skin has gone numb. She squints as she tries to see through the snow and sleet that is raining down toward her face. Her fingers tighten, twisting into the knit of the afghan as she pulls it tighter to her and step by step she moves toward the water.

Finally her feet stop making prints in the snow as she stands still at the end of the dock. The wind whistles past her ears, snowflakes catch in her eyelashes. She sighs and looks out at the turbulent crashing waves of the ocean through the misty white air of her breath. Buffy drops the afghan that lies across her shoulders and it falls to the snowy ground leaving her shoulders bare to the freezing elements. Then she brings her right hand up to her head. Her fingers are wrapped tightly around a cell phone. She turns it on and types in 9 1 1.

Her hand is trembling and her teeth chattering as she listens to the ringing through the line. Then finally after what seemed like an eternity of standing on this frozen dock a woman’s voice answers.

“Nine one one, what’s your emergency.”

“I’m at Hendry’s beach, send an ambulance.” The woman on the other end begins to say something but Buffy hangs up. She drops the phone and it falls into the snow.

Her toes curl over the edge of the frozen wood and she wraps her arms tighter around her fully pregnant belly. The white fabric of her silk nightgown sticks to her skin as it begins to dampen with the moisture of the falling snow and the Slayer shivers. She looks out at the deathly depths of the sea watching the falling snow melt into the waves and then she steps off the dock.





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