YOU NEVER CAN TELL
Chapter 20: ‘Da Doo Ron Ron’
Summary: Kind of a little chapter, before the sh** really, really hits the fan!
August, in Texas? It can be cruel to sinner or Saint. To Buffy and Spike? It was hell on earth, physically anyway. Especially since Buffy was in her last month of pregnancy and the humidity alone was causing the poor girl to be miserable.
Little Baby Giles, be it boy or girl, was giving the young couple the fits. For one thing, the baby wasn’t due for another three to four weeks and Buffy was puffed up like the Goodyear Blimp, even more then before. The combination of heat, humidity and last minute frustration on both Buffy and Spike’s part made things very, very uncomfortable.
The new medical coverage that Mr. Green had sprung for was a God send to the Giles’ couple. It meant good pre-baby medical exams and care for Buffy, and a relief, somewhat, financially wise for Spike.
“What do you think of Jennifer? For a girl baby,” Buffy mumbled, scrunching up her brows as she wrote ‘Jennifer’ down on their ‘baby name’ paper.
“It’s okay,” Spike shrugged, sipping his beer, deep in thought. “Just as long as you don’t name the poor brat William, if it’s a boy that is,” he chuckled.
“I like William as a name,” Buffy whined, with a pretty little pout. The one that drove Spike crazy for her.
‘Not that I can do anything about that,’ he thought, almost resentfully. ‘Only if I ‘do’ take care of it, all by myself,’ he continued in his head. ‘Getting’ a bit tired of wankin’ myself off while I remember what it’s like fucking my Buffy. Can’t wait until the little bugger is here and asleep in ‘it’s’ crib so I can make love to my wife like…’
“I said,” Buffy hissed, “I like the name William. What’s wrong with it? We can call our son ‘Billy’ short for Bill, short for William. And, I’m going to,” she pursed her lips and then smirked as good as Spike could.
“It’s a ponce’s name,” Spike spat, defensively.
“Is not,” Buffy countered, her eyes wide in anger.
“Is too,” Spike hissed, baring his white teeth.
“It’s not…oh for Pete’s sake, this is ridiculous!” Buffy groaned as she rolled over on her back, in their bed. Which they lay in, together, right at that early Saturday afternoon moment.
“That it is, baby,” Spike chuckled, pulling his wife closer to him. “The arguing over William and all,” he added with a grin. “We’re worse then a couple of spoiled brats on the playground. It’ll be better, after baby is born, though,” he nodded, reassuring Buffy.
“Let’s eat our lunch,” Buffy cooed as she handed her husband the dinner platter, with the fruit, cold cuts and crackers on it. It’s all Buffy could manage, at least lately. She was just so darned weary, all of the time now.
“I love how you’ve painted the nursery,” Buffy murmered, stroking her husband’s arm, lovingly as he munched down a cracker.
“Did it for you,” Spike grunted, self-satisfied at his hard work. “Thought the mint green would please you,” he added with a smug, proud grin.
“It does,” Buffy scrunched her brows again, “but, if it’s a girl and…”
“Mint green is fine,” Spike grumbled, “for either a girl or boy and holy damn it to hell, baby, you know that!”
“I know,” Buffy giggled wickedly, “just wanted to ‘know’ if you’re still paying attention and all. Ooooohhhhh, let’s mark off today, on the calendar!” The young mother to be squealed in delight. I know it’s still daytime, but we could ‘X’ out today and count down again to ‘D-Day’ for the baby!”
Spike chuckled happily, sipping his beer and snuggling his wife closer to him, “okay,” he nodded. “I’ll get the calendar and we can mark off the day, like usual.”
They had fallen into a pretty normal routine, Buffy and Spike had. Get up in the AM, eat their breakfast, send Spike off to work, while Buffy does the little things about their rented house. In June, Spike had surprised Buffy with a puppy. A little mutt that he’d found at a nearby animal shelter.
Buffy had fallen in love with the heinze 57 immediately and had dubbed him ‘Mr.Gordo’ for the stuffed, toy pig she’d accidently left at home. In Sunnydale.
At precisely 3:00 PM, daily, Buffy Summers Giles walked her little pup, proudly, about the neighborhood. Yes, Buffy loved that little pup, so much.
Spike love his little wife, his soon to be arriving child and his life, finally. Now, if everything just went right? The delivery, the baby’s health, everything that a man could want and hope for.
Tuesday evening arrived, and Spike sighed, heavily, as he entered his home on Joshua Street. He’d had a hard day, that was a fact. The boss had been a little rough on everyone that day and…”
“Will,” Buffy called from the bedroom, the minute Spike had entered their house. “I need you,” she rasped in a strained, pained voice.
Spike dropped his lunch box and without even bothering to take off his work boots, he hurried into the bedroom. There he found his wife, his precious, young, tiny wife, lying on their bed.
Buffy had placed a thick towel between her legs, and that alone alerted Spike to the fact that something was not quite right here.
“What is it, baby?” he asked anxiously holding his wife to his body.
“Water,” Buffy replied, a little dazed, “a river of water, from in there,” she blushed, nodding down at the lower part of her body. “It got everywhere, Will,” she moaned, “I’m sorry. It’s like I wet the bed or something. I don’t understand. This isn’t supposed to happen, at least not until it’s time and…”
“Let’s get you to Houston Memorial,” Spike ordered, taking charge. He leapt from the bed and glanced around the bedroom for a suitcase. Once he found a bag that would suit, Spike threw some clothes and night things in it.
“Don’t get up,” Spike ordered his wife, all manly like. “I’ll carry you to the car. Just let me make a phone call, to Jesse and explain. Then we’ll go to the hospital.”
Although he tried to behave like he was cool as a cucumber? Spike was a wreck inside. He knew, instinctively, that something wasn’t right about this. Buffy should have been going through labor pains before her water broke. Yes, there was something definitely off about all of this.
“Mr. Giles?” the doctor on call greeted the young, anxious husband, somewhat calmly.
“Tell me,” is all Spike could say, his gut aching in fear at what this ‘boy doctor’ might tell him.
“There ‘is’ complications, Mr. Giles,” the young medico sighed, trying not to look Spike in the eye. At least so Spike thought anyway.
“Tell me,” Spike repeated harshly, his stomach and heart doing a full on mile race now.
“The baby?” the doctor mumbled softly, “it’s heart rate isn’t what we’d like it to be. And…”
“And?” Spike asked, his left, scarred brow raised in question.
“The little thing is positioned wrong, Mr. Giles. It’s what ‘we’ call breach. The baby’s bottom is pointing down, at the birth canal. Should be the head, after all and…”
Spike felt like he was going to be sick, but he held back his illness and his tears. Nodding, the blond teen swallowed, hard, and asked, “what can we do? To help them?” The young husband glanced at the hospital room, where his pregnant wife lay.
“There’s some things we can do,” Dr. Doyle mumbled, his dark brows knitted together in thought. “Some surgeries and such. Or, we can halt the delivery, medicine wise and hope the baby adjusts itself. Or, we can even try and ‘turn’ the little thing, to the right position. Any of these ways might work Mr. Giles. It’s just a matter of hoping, praying and…”
“Thank you,” Spike rasped abruptly. “I need to see my girl now, please,” he pleaded quietly.
“Of course,” the young doctor nodded and motioned for his patient’s husband to go to her.
Buffy was sleeping, somewhat soundly, and Spike did not want to wake her. The fucking medical experts must have given her some big bad meds to keep her calm or something.
Spike watched his wife, his beautiful, beloved wife sleep. Her not so little chest and tummy rose up and then deflated, gently, as she breathed in and out in her slumber.
Tears slipped down Spike’s chiseled cheeks as he watched his ‘salvation’ sleeping, restfully. He stifled the groan of fear that rose up from his chest and convulsed in this throat. His Buffy was so damn tiny, so small and…
‘Can’t let her see or hear you like this, mate,’ he told himself. ‘She needs you, strong.’
Spike stood up and slipped out of the hospital room, past the rookie doctor. The poor guy, Dr. Doyle that is, probably tried his best, but a rookie was all he was and Spike knew it.
Searching out the hospital’s little chapel, Spike entered the empty holy place and actually ‘lit’ a candle at the altar.
Sitting down, in the first pew, the blond man stared at the flickering candle, lost in thought.
“God,” Spike whispered to the empty air. “I know I’m not the best bloke in the world to be comin’ to ‘you’ now. Am I?”
There was no forthcoming verbal answer for Spike.
“Okay, I deserve that,” he sighed deeply. “But the question here is this. Does my Buffy deserve it? Does she God? All this crap she’s been through. Everything. She tried to give the baby ‘up’ back in Sunnydale and for some reason? She changed her mind. Thank God, uhm, I mean ‘thank you’ Lord that she did change her mind.”
Spike blushed, realizing how silly this might look to anyone passing by, or who entered the little chapel.
“Okay,” Spike sighed again, “let me ask you this, God. In the grand scheme of things? Does my Buffy and me, or our little baby mean anything? Do we fit anywhere or somewhere? If we do? Then please, please help us. We need your help, Man, all the way. I’m begging you to help my Buffy, God. Please help Buffy and our baby. And me. Bloody hell, I’ll even let my Buffy name the poor kid William. If it’s a bloke that is,” Spike added for good measure.
After Spike left the little chapel, he headed towards his Buffy’s room. When he stepped inside, he found his wife awake, at last.
“Hey,” Buffy murmered, lovingly, at Spike.
“Hey,” Spike whispered, lovingly at Buffy.
“Come here,” Buffy, waved her husband over to her bed. She patted the mattress with her tiny hand and motioned for his to sit down next to her.
Spike lay down, carefully, next to his beautiful wife and held her close to him.
“It’s bad, huh?” Buffy whispered into her husband’s ear.
He couldn’t answer, just kind of nodded, weakly.
“I’ve been a bad girl, haven’t I, baby?” Buffy mumbled, tiny hot tears seeping from her green eyes.
“Hell no!” Spike hissed, trying to keep his harsh tone down to a minimal. “You’ve been a Saint, Princess,” he whispered, shakily. “You’re my good girl, my good Princess,” Spike murmered, trying to keep his own tears at bay. He snuggled his Buffy up to his body, holding her tightly.
“Okay,” Buffy sighed. “Then this is how it’s going to be,”she continued, all mama lion strong and such.
“If it comes down to me, or the baby?” Buffy mumbled, “then it’s the baby’s life, first,” she finished with a mulish look.
“Buffy…” Spike began, trying not to choke up on his own tears of fear and sorrow.
“I mean it, honey ,” Buffy whispered, but firmly, “the baby comes first, do you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Spike muttered under his breath. He lay there, with his Buffy until Spike heard her even breaths alert him that she was indeed sound asleep, again.
When Spike could be sure that Buffy was out like a light? He got out of the bed and slipped out into the hospital hallway.
Spike found a pay phone and dropped the appropriate amount of change into the slots. He dialed a number that he swore, just months earlier, he’d never call again.
When the deep, British male voice answered the other line, Spike swallowed hard and took a deep calming breath.
“Dad?” Spike greeted Rupert Giles, trying to be ‘casual’ but failing, terribly. “It’s William,” the young man tried not to burst into tears at this moment.
“It’s Buffy, Da,” Spike continued, carefully, “she’s, she’s not doing well, Da,” he gasped, feeling like he was having a heart attack, or something.
“The baby, it’s not…” Spike paused, letting his Dad interject, quickly.
“We’re in Houston, Texas, Da,” Spike replied, haltingly. “Buffy’s in the hospital, having my child, your grandchild. Yours and Mum’s grandbaby,” he added, his emotions seeping through.
“Buffy, Dad, she’s not doing well. It’s not looking good and…” Spike finally broke down and began to cry, uncontrollably.
“Please Dad,” Spike sobbed, past caring how weak he sounded, “I need you and Mum. Buffy needs you, all of you. Mr. Summers, Joyce and even Dawn. It’s bad, Dad. Please get here, all of you. As fast as you can.”
‘Da Doo Ron Ron’ (by The Crystals)
‘I met him on a Monday and my heart stood still!
Da do ron ron ron, da do ron ron
Somebody told me that his name was Bill!
Da do ron ron ron, da do ron ron…
Yeah, my heart stood still!
Yes, his name was Bill!
And when he walked me home…
Da do ron ron ron, da do ron ron’
A/N: Sigh…what the heck is going to happen?!? And, please, don’t berate me for the ‘religious’ moments in the chapter. We all need a little ‘good Karma’ right?
Thanks for reading and please review. Luv, Spuf
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm hoping to finish this story in another chapter or tw.
Thanks.
Luv, Spuf
Thanks.
Luv, Spuf