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Chapter 42

“Spiiiiiike! It’s for you! Some guy named Riley,” Dawn screamed across the house.

“Bit, anyone ever tell you that you could have a future as a scream queen?”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Dawn rolled her eyes and held out the phone to him.

“’lo?”

“Do we know a Riley?” Dawn asked Giles as he walked further into the living room.

“Can’t say I know the name. Did he say where he was calling from?”

“Wait, wait, wait… we DO know a Riley! Well, Spike does anyway. He’s…”

William dropped the phone and made a beeline for the door without so much as saying goodbye to them.

Giles could hear someone on the other end of the line calling out, “hello?”

“Yes, hello?... This is Rupert Giles, who am I speaking to?... His father, yes… Mmmhhmmm… Memorial?...Yes, of course. I’ll make sure he gets there. Thank you.”

Giles hung up the phone, issued orders to Dawn to stay in the house, and ran out the front door, hoping to catch his son. He was more than a little shocked to see him sitting in his car, keys in hand and ready to turn the ignition, but seemingly frozen, his forehead resting on the top of the steering wheel. Ordinarily, he’d have considered himself lucky to still see William’s tail lights, so he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that he was still sitting in the driveway. Then again, William had been acting rather oddly the last week. Nothing overly obvious, just subtle differences. Like being far less meticulous about his hair, and he’d seemed distracted, off in his own world much of the time, even though he’d been spending even more time than usual with Michael. Something was definitely off with his son, he just wish he knew what it was.

“Move over,” He said, pushing back on William’s shoulder indicating for him to sit up. “I’ll not have you driving in his condition.” The look on his son’s face perplexed him even more. He seemed conflicted, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to argue or not. Giles opened the car door and gave him another shove, then slid in as William slid over. He hadn’t driven William’s car in quite some time, but had to admit the roar of the old engine held an allure. The feel of the raw power gave him a sense of control, master of fate, when in reality he was simply driving.

“Is it Buffy?” He asked, as the old car flew down the highway.

“Need to ask?” Was the only reply he got.

“Not really, no.” The rest of the drive was in silence. He’d no sooner pulled into a parking spot, than William was already out of the car and running. He watched a moment as William stopped just before the doors however, as if something was preventing him from entering. Curiouser and curiouser. After a few moments, William resumed his trajectory through the doors. Giles felt very old just then. Too many visits to this place. Too many bad memories. And if his son’s behavior were any indication, they were about to add another one to the list.

He walked into the ER to see William and a taller young man arguing. That is, if their gesticulations were any indication, as they seemed to be quite guarded in the volume of their conversation.

“Rupert?” He turned to greet the familiar face of Dr. Stanford, the affable physician who had been in charge of the Sunnydale Memorial ER for as long as they had been coming to these impromptu visits. “Wish I could say I was glad to see you.”

“Indeed, I’d hoped I wouldn’t be seeing you again anytime soon.” He replied as they shook hands. “How is she?”

“As well as can be expected,” the doctor responded. “She’s stable. Dr. Edison is in there seeing her now. I have to say, when young Mr. Finn there brought her in several days ago, and none of you were filling up my waiting room, I was a bit concerned. Wasn’t too sure what to think. But… when he brought her in here tonight, he seemed genuinely concerned. Then when he asked if we had information to contact you… well, I think maybe I misjudged the fellow. He’s been standing outside her door since he got off the phone. Kind of reminds me of someone else who used to do that.”

Giles took note that another doctor had now come out of Buffy’s room and was talking to William and whom he could only assume was “young Mr. Finn.” If he didn’t look too closely, he could certainly imagine it was Angel and William. Angel being the stoic guardian and William practically vibrating with pent up energy ready to explode.

“Since I don’t see an orderly hauling anything broken to the bin, I take it you and William just got here?”

“Yes, quite. Came as soon as we got the call. So, what exactly happened?” He asked the good doctor.

Dr. Stanford seemed to size him up for a moment, then gave a sideways nod toward the two young men standing in the hall talking to the other doctor. “I suggest you talk to them.”

“I do believe I will.” He replied. Dr. Stanford gave him a pat on the shoulder and a parting word, “Take it easy on ‘em, Rupert, they have their reason’s to be worried,” and then left.

He studied the young men a moment as the other doctor disappeared down the hallway toward the nurses station. It was like going back in time, with a tall, dark, muscular young man staring in the window, and William pacing back and forth like a caged tiger. It felt a bit like history was repeating itself in an endless loop. He saw the moment William’s demeanor changed, and knew instantly what was coming. He managed to reach him just as William hefted up the chair. He grabbed his arm in a vice like grip, stopping him from destroying yet another defenseless piece of furniture.

“William,” Was all he said. His son seemed to shake off some of his frustration and with painfully slow and deliberate moves put the chair back down. Only then did he release his arm.

“And you are?” He turned and asked the young man that bore a striking physical resemblance to Angel.

“Finn, sir, Riley Finn.” The young man offered his hand to him and he took it. At least the boy had manners.

“Rupert Giles,” he introduced himself. “Now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, I suggest that you and William tell me exactly what’s going on, and why I am standing, yet again, in Sunnydale Memorial hospital waiting to hear news of what’s going on with the young woman I’ve come to think of as a daughter, but for some reason I’ve been told to ask you two instead?”

He noticed Riley and William give each other what could only be a knowing look, but neither of them started talking. He’d really had enough if this. He dropped all pretense of civility and grabbed both of them by the shirt front, then pushed them both against the wall. Hard. He gave them a slight shake, for good measure.

“Someone better start talking, or so help me…”

“She’s pregnant,” Both of them answered at once.

He released them both. Well. That was assuredly not what he’d been expecting to hear. Not so soon after her fateful gestation, or the events revealing it. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then began cleaning the glasses as he asked the next question.

“And who is the father?” He held his breath and steeled himself for the subsequent answer.

“He is,” They both replied. Feet shuffled a bit as each of the young men stared at the floor, while Giles put his glasses back on. “We’re not, exactly, sure,” Riley finally answered.

“I see.” What else could he say?

“And how far along is she?”

“Ten to twelve weeks,” William answered.

He nodded, processing this new turn of events.

“And we are here because?”

“She’s having… complications,” Riley supplied rather hesitantly. “I thought Spike should know since...” He trailed off a few moments before finally finishing, “I thought he should know.”

Giles pulled his glasses off again, pinching the bridge of his nose against the headache starting to build.

“Have you both completely lost your minds? Riley, I can’t speak for you; but, William, I taught you better than this. Buffy is a vulnerable, traumatized, young woman. For either of you to take advantage of that is beyond reprehensible…”

“Christ, what is it with you people? She… used… me! Not the other way ‘round.”

“I’m sure you were complaining the whole time, right?”

“You know what…”

“Both of you, stop!” Giles held up a hand to silence them.

“In my defense, I didn’t know 12 weeks ago, what I know now.” Riley threw out there, before being silenced by a glare from Giles.

“What did the doctor say?”

“He said right now, it’s a threatened miscarriage. Half will go on, half won’t. We should know in the next several days, maybe weeks, which half this is,” Riley explained.

“Is there anything to be done?”

“Said the only thing’s to rest and wait,” William answered, starting to sound quite weary.

“Are they releasing her?”

“Yes. They just have to finish some paperwork,” Riley answered.

“I presume she will return to her room at the hotel?”

“It’s what she wants.” Riley answered once again.

“Will you both be staying with her?”

“We can split…”

“No.” William’s resolute voice interrupted.

That caught him off guard. He’d expected William to supply him with a litany of reasons why he couldn’t leave Buffy’s side. If the look on Riley’s face were any indication, he’d also been expecting a different answer from William. And judging by William’s expression, it appeared even he was shocked by his own answer.

“I can’t,” William met his gaze and all he could see was pain and confusion. “I just… can’t. Not again.” His son turned and abruptly walked down the hall and out the doors.

Once William had vanished from sight, Riley spun and put his fist into the wall. It would seem this young man had more in common with his son’s than he thought.

“Feel better?” He asked.

“Not really,” Riley answered, pulling his now bloody hand out of the wall and trying to flex his fingers.

“Let’s take you to see Matilda and get some ice on that.” He started walking toward the nurses station. “You’ll thank me later,” he added.

As they sat in the lobby, Riley’s hand wrapped in a towel and a large ice pack, a comfortable silence settled in. Giles knew he should go check on the whereabouts of his son, but if William didn’t want to be found, it would be a pointless endeavor. At least now he had some context to William’s odd behavior of late. It still didn’t quite add up, he would have thought William would be elated at the prospect of a child with Buffy. Then again, if he genuinely thought Riley to be the father… well, he’d not exactly reacted well when Angel had been the father, either.

“I was so close,” Riley’s thought broke the silence. “I really thought they would… Now, it just feels like they’re hurtling toward the ending of Romeo and Juliet, and no matter what I try, the ending will stay the same.”

“Oh? How’s that?” That seemed like a strange turn of phrase for a young man he had presumed was in love with Buffy given the possibility that he was the father of Buffy’s child.

“They need each other. Like they need air. But all these…things…get in the way,” Riley answered.

“Am I to understand, you actually want Buffy and William together?”

“Want?” Riley laughed out. “Hell no!” He paused a moment. “Do they need to be together? As much as they need to breathe. More, maybe.”

Giles sat back in his chair and contemplated the young man before him. He wasn’t sure what to think of him, but if anything, he felt a bit of sorrow for the young man. He could have liked him in another time or place.

“So, William’s really his name?” Riley seemed to ponder out loud. “Knew it had to be some kind of Billy Idol, bad boy act. Couldn’t imagine some kid’s parents naming him after the dog.”

Yes, he definitely could have liked the young man.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..


Days passed. Each evening, Riley would call and tell Giles that there was no change. Each day, William completely avoided talking about Buffy at all. Each day, William’s appearance and behavior deteriorated more and more. If anyone even mentioned her name, William would simply walk out the door and not return for hours. He’d come home covered in cuts and bruises from an obvious fight. He’d let his bleached hair grow out into a disheveled mess of curls and dark roots with bleached tips. Not altogether unflattering, but highly unusual for William to be so unkempt. He had a sneaking suspicion that his son was trying to disengage himself from Buffy. Had his son come so close to having his heart’s desire, that this new fear was more than he could face? Was he preparing to recreate himself again, without her in the equation?

But, it didn’t seem to add up. Even when she was pregnant with Michael and Gabriel, William’s primary concern had been for Buffy. Was this new, more personal, focus a step too far for even William to contemplate a potential loss? No. They’d all come so close to losing Buffy so many times, and each time it was William who had been the one to charge through the doubt and fear to reach her. He’d always kept faith that she’d make it through anything. So why now? Even if the child were lost, Buffy would recover. Indeed, as long as she made it through whatever fate handed her, he knew William would always be there to support her through anything. As he further contemplated William’s odd behavior and his perpetually knit brow, this last thought brought a terrible dawning of realization to him. He had a feeling that something more was quite amiss and that William may be the only person aware of it.

“Son, might I have a word with you?” Giles asked. Dawn, always the clever girl, took that as her cue to retrieve Michael from his high chair and retreat elsewhere. William put his fork down and looked at him pointedly.

“I have a choice?” He asked without looking up.

“No.” He gave William a slightly apologetic smile, though William never looked up to see it.

“Know what you’re going to say. Save it.” William told him, as he picked his fork up again and stabbed rather roughly at his breakfast.

“Why have you given up?” He watched as his son froze mid bite, then put his fork back down.

“Since we moved here you’ve never given up on Buffy. You always knew she would come through, even when the rest of us had abandoned all hope. Until now. Why?”

William seemed to think about the question for a moment. As if unsure exactly how to answer.

“Don’t know,” He sighed. “I can’t…Just know it’s all slipping away. Can feel it. Everything slipping away…And I can’t… can’t be there… Don’t think I could… Don’t know…Alright? I don’t…know.”

Giles was now fully alert. Had William been so disconnecting himself that he’d chosen to ignore his intuition? If Jenny had taught him anything, it was that some people were more observant, more perceptive, more receptive, and could put those subtle pieces together in ways that made the rest of them look like idiot children. William was one of those people.

“Why do you feel like she’s slipping away?”

“Don’t know. Just… know it’s coming. Soon. And I can’t...Not again.”

Blast! William had already integrated the change of preposition from it to her.

‘Specially when I’m the one who…”

William was staring off into space now. He didn’t like this turn of events. Had William done something? Did he know something the rest of them didn’t?

“The one who what?”

“’S mine, you know? Knew it as soon as he said how far along she was.”

“William?”

“Was the best and worst moment of my life. It’s all my fault. If I’d just left her there that day. Let her go…”

Blast and damnation! Now it all made bloody sense. How could he have missed it? He’d been an‘idiot child’ indeed to miss that William was unconsciously mourning Buffy and her child.

“William? You said it was coming soon. How soon?”

William just shook his head.

“Don’t know…‘s just all…fading.” He was still staring off into space, his brow even more knit than it had been the last few weeks.

Bloody hell… This wasn’t good. Last time William had a feeling this strong...

“William?”

No answer.

“Spike!” The shout of his chosen name got his son’s attention. It always did. He was standing at the back door holding his son’s coat out to him.

“We going somewhere?” William asked, clearly confused.

“Yes. I just hope we’re not too late.”

He’d abruptly shoved a reluctant William into the car and taken off with haste. The closer they got to Buffy’s place, the more agitated William seemed to get. Thankfully, Buffy’s hotel was the next stop. As he pulled into the parking lot, he as much felt as saw the change in William’s demeanor. The nervousness seemed to dissipate as a quiet alertness settled over him. He pulled into the spot in front of Buffy’s door. William sat as still as stone for long moment, eyeing the hotel door. Then got out and walked up to it in agonizingly slow steps. He followed, hoping his deduction had been wrong. Before he’d met Jenny, he’d thought only simpletons believed in such nonsense; but, over the years he’d come to understand that there were assuredly people in this world who could perceive things on a level that others could not. William had perceived something, whether he knew it or not. He just hoped that he’d misread what it was William had perceived.

William knocked hesitantly, but no answer came from within. After a few terse seconds, William reached out as if to try the knob but froze just short of it, as if he was afraid to do so. Giles managed to find an opening in the curtain wide enough to afford him a narrow view of the interior, and could just make out a delicate looking foot with pink toenails lying motionless on the floor.

“Kick it in. Now.”

William paused only a moment before something seemed to shift inside him. Then he stood back a step, obliging him with a forceful kick that sent the door and frame splintering apart. They’d been wholly unprepared to face what they found inside. Giles immediately grabbed the phone and dialed 911. He quickly answered their questions and then set the receiver down on the desk as the pesky twit kept trying to ask him more and more questions.

He turned back to his son and Buffy. They were too late. So much blood. She had obviously tried to reach the phone. A few more feet and she would have. He watched as William silently cradled Buffy’s limp body to him, gently rocking back and forth. He cursed every god that ever toyed with their fates, bringing Buffy into their lives, only to tear those lives from them just as surely as they’d torn her own life from her.

Within moments, paramedics came running in. Taking in the scene, with grave looks and graver demeanor, they set about trying to check Buffy for any signs of life, but William wasn’t having any of it. He kept holding her, like a child terrified of the dark, clutching onto a favorite stuffed toy or blanket. The paramedics were urgently trying to convince him to let them take her so they could try to resuscitate her, but he wouldn’t even acknowledge their requests.

He knew the pain his son felt. Felt it rising up again inside him after so many years, as memories surfaced of holding his own wife, William’s mother, as she slipped away; silently pleading for her to stay with him just one more moment, one more day. Even now he remembered how his arms ached after he finally let them take her body away.

“William...? Spike...? Son…?” He placed one hand on his son’s shoulder, and the other on one of his hands holding Buffy. “They need to see to her, Spike. It’s time to let her go. You need to let them take her.”

William seemed to stare completely through him for a moment, but finally seemed to register the words. He nodded silently and stood up, Buffy still in his arms, and placed her on the gurney as carefully as one would put a sleeping child to bed. As he pulled his arm from under her head, the smallest noise escaped from her, and then an small agonal gasp. William backed away and stared, dumbfounded, as the paramedics sprang to renewed life.

“Holy….”
“I’ve got a heartbeat!” One called.
“I’ll be damned…”
“Let’s see if we can get a couple lines in her.”
“Load her up. We’re runnin’ hot!”

“Hope you fellows believe in miracles,” The first paramedic called as he shut the ambulance doors. “You just witnessed one.”





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