The automatic doors weren’t opening fast enough for Spike. Nothing had gone right on his drive to Sunnydale General Hospital. The red lights were too many, green lights too few. There were too many police cars roaming for him to chance going too fast. And he had Buffy curled against him, crying gently. The pit of his stomach was filled with lead, or so it seemed. His brain was turning in a million directions, too many of which ended up badly. Buffy loses the baby. Buffy can’t get pregnant again. Buffy blames him for all this, as does Joyce...

He walked into the hospital emergency, a weakened Slayer in his arms. Almost immediately, a nurse approached him. She looked to be in her early forties, a little matronly, and with a genuinely comforting smile. Her tag read “Connie”. Taking him by the arm, she led him to a gurney so he could put Buffy down. “Here--sit her down on here.” She took a hold of Buffy’s hand. “What’s the problem this evening, dear?” She was looking at the crying girl but Spike knew the question had been aimed his way.

Running the hand that wasn’t holding on to Buffy’s through bleached locks, he took a deep breath. “We... were out for a walk and she slipped on some grass. Landed on her arse pretty hard. She’s pregnant--says she’s bleeding... down there.” Damn Victorian manners--he couldn’t even say it.

The nurse nodded. Still looking at the young woman, she asked: “What’s your name, honey?”

Squeezing Spike’s hand--trying to let him know how much the contact meant to her at that moment, the young woman answered shakily. “Buffy.”

“Ok, Buffy. The bleeding--was it heavy, or light?”

Buffy frowned. Her mind was muddled and she couldn’t think clearly. “I don’t know. I went to the bathroom before my bath and I noticed that there was blood on the toilet paper. I’m... I’m sorry I don’t know.”

Connie smiled at the crying girl. “Now, now. It’s ok to be worried. We’ll get you upstairs to obstetrics and the nurses and doctors there will look you over. Before we do, though, I just need you to fill out some paperwork. It’s only a few sheets, but I can’t admit you until they’re filled out.” She gave the two blondes an apologetic smile.

Spike growled. “Bloody hell! You’re in pain and they want you to fill out bleedin’ paperwork? What if you came in here shot, or in a coma? Would they wait till...”

“Spike!” Buffy was happy that he was concerned, but she didn’t feel like dealing with any extra stress at the moment. “I’m not so sick that I can’t fill out a bit of information. Mom’s got insurance, so it’s all covered. If I don’t fill this out, they might bill us or something.” She took the paperwork and filled it out to the best of her knowledge.

When she’d handed the paperwork back, Buffy was glad to see Connie approaching with a wheelchair.

“Do you think you can sit in a wheelchair, or does it hurt too much?”

“I’ll be ok in a wheelchair.” God, why couldn’t they just beam her up there, like in Star Trek? They’d have her already looked at and she’d know if her baby was going to be ok...

The nurse parked the wheelchair by Spike’s side. “If you don’t mind, dear. She’ll have an easier time of it if you help her.”

Hoisting Buffy up into his arms, Spike tried to ease her nerves (and, truth be told, his own). “C’mon luv, let’s get you up there so we can see how strong the bit is.”

Before long, Buffy and Spike were being escorted to the obstetrics ward. Connie had remained at her post at the emergency desk, so a male nurse named Evan had accompanied them. The young man, an affable brunette, wheeled Buffy into one of the ultrasound rooms. Turning to Spike, but making sure that Buffy also heard him, he began giving instructions. “We’ll need Ms. Summers to get up on the bed, if you can help her. She’ll need to get her pants down past her hips so the technician can perform the ultrasound. There’s a cotton blanket at the foot of the cot--you can use that to cover up, if you wish. I‘ll try to get the tech here as soon as possible--I‘m sure you want to get this over with asap so you can go back home.” He smiled warmly and exited the room, closing the door behind him, leaving both blondes to themselves.

The room they were in was dark, except for the light that came from the ultrasound’s monitor and a small desk lamp. Buffy eased herself out of the chair, glad to be out of its confines. Stretching, she smirked at Spike. “Now I know why you were so pissed off at me after I landed you in one of these. Not the most comfy rides, are they?”

Eyeing the metal contraption wearily, the blonde vampire fought back the urge to kick it--over and over again. “No. I’d be happy never to have to sit in one ever again, thank you.” He turned his gaze to the Slayer, who was slowly lifting herself up onto the bed. “Now, now. There’ll be none of that--can’t have you aggravating any injuries. You’ve got the bit to worry about--never mind your pride, Slayer.” He pointedly ignored the eye roll she gave him as he picked her up at the waist to sit her on the mattress.

They found themselves eye to eye, Spike standing between Buffy’s open legs, staring into each other’s eyes. They both noticed it at once, the extra something that sparked between them. They’d moved from enmity, to tolerance , to friendship, to... what? What did they mean to each other, now? Were they simply friends--neither could deny that that’s what they were. Enemies didn’t rush enemies to the hospital, worried out of their minds. And enemies didn’t let enemies draw light circles on their hips as they gazed at each other, breathless.

Spike was the first to move, leaning in slowly. Buffy licked her lips, anticipating the kiss that she’d denied wanting so much. His lips seemed so soft, she wanted to know what they felt like against hers, cool against warmth. She was surprised, and more than a bit disappointed, when his lips passed hers and brushed against her cheek. “We’ll have time to discuss this later, Buffy. Right now, you have to get ready for the technician--whatever that means.”

He pulled back, giving the young woman the room to swing her legs onto the bed. They both stared at each other awkwardly before Buffy managed to find her voice. “Uh, do you think you could...” She twirled her finger around, indicating that he should turn around while she lowered her pants. Kissing would have been nice and all, but undressing in front of Spike was still way wiggy. When she’d covered her waist with the blanket, she let the vampire know that it was ok to turn around.

Staring at all the computers and small TV screens, Spike lifted an eyebrow. “So, all this technology’s supposed to tell you if the bit’s ok?”

She’d forgotten that he’d never have had any experience with this kind of thing. All this would be so foreign to someone who’d been born in the middle of the nineteenth century. “Yup. That’s the screen where you’ll be able to see the baby--if you can make it out. It’ll look really weird, not like on a regular TV screen. I’m not sure how it works, exactly, but I think it has to do with waves or something.”

Raising an eyebrow, Spike just nodded. “I guess I’ll just have to see it, then. Have you been to many of these before?” The technician was taking a lot longer than the impatient vampire deemed necessary, so he was trying to keep both himself and the Slayer occupied during the wait.

“Just one. When I was at 12 weeks. They do an ultrasound to measure something in the baby’s neck, and something else, too. They were doing some kind of test to see if the baby had any deformities.” Buffy stared at the ceiling, noticing that there was a poster--probably a Van Gogh, from what she could tell. It was a nice touch that eased her mind a little. They’d put a poster up there to give her something else to think about while lying there. It also reminded her that she wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last, to be in that room, for an emergency or a routine exam.

Boy, had medicine come a long way since Spike had been human. “So they can tell when the baby’s that small if it’s gonna have to be in a wheelchair or whatnot? Bloody amazing, that is. Back before Dru turned me, plain old childbirth was a big mystery. Lots of women died while delivering. And now they can see the baby as it grows...” He shook his head, pretty much talking to himself. “Amazing...”

Both were startled when the door opened, and a young woman walked in. Her chipper mood belied the early morning hour. “Hey there! I’m Andrea, and I’ll be going through your ultrasound with you.” She began to type on the keyboard, transferring some of the information from her folder to the computer. “So you’re 14 weeks pregnant, right?”

“Yup.” Buffy’s eyes were on Spike, who was fixated on the computer, obviously waiting for the baby’s picture to magically appear on screen.

“Have you had an ultrasound yet?” Andrea walked over to Buffy and lowered the towel until it reached her pubic bone.

“Yes--at eep! twelve weeks. God that stuff’s cold! Can’t you keep it warm or something?” The technician chuckled at the young woman’s reaction.

This was getting weirder by the minute. First of all, the only thing this Andrea bird had done so far was type in some information about Buffy into the computer and squirted something that looked a lot like KY onto her belly. And the baby was yet to appear on screen. Spike stood back, letting the technician do her thing, watching everything closely.

As Andrea began rolling some sort of instrument over the Slayer’s belly, Spike’s eyes flew back to the screen. It took him a while to figure out that the black and white image was a view of Buffy’s uterus. He couldn’t make heads or tails of what was what, until his eyes closed in on a little form in the middle of the screen. That couldn’t be... Nah. It didn’t look like much of anything. Of course, he didn’t exactly have the most experience in these things. He had to admit, though, that the blob looked like it had a head, and arms, and--were those legs?

The actual examination lasted about fifteen minutes, with the technician silently examining all of Buffy’s belly. Every now and then she’d click on her mouse, saving some bit of information that she deemed important.

About halfway through the examination, she broke the silence. “Sorry if I’m pushing a bit hard on your stomach, Buffy, but it’s a little hard to see anything with your bladder only half-full. I am getting information, it just means that we’ll be here a bit longer than we usually would.”

What could Buffy say to that? “That’s ok--just do whatever’s necessary. I’m not in as much pain anymore, anyway.”

Spike was glad to hear that, hoping that it meant that nothing was seriously wrong with either mum or child. Patience not being his greatest virtue, he had soon tired of watching the screen, choosing instead to watch Buffy, taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed. She smiled shyly at him when he reached for her hand once again. She assumed that the constant contact meant as much to him as it did to her and she found that oddly comforting. It was strange that in a time of great need, her former mortal enemy had been someone upon whom she’d been able to rely. He’d been constantly at her side, glancing at her when he didn’t think she was looking, worry marring those beautiful blue eyes of his.

Did he mean for them to be more than friends? Uh, their near-kiss was a definite yes, in her opinion. He’d even said that they’d talk about it later. She would hold him to that, as she also wanted to air things out between them. Sure, he was good looking, but he had so many other attributes that she admired. He was loyal--120 years devoted to Drusilla proved that; he was protective--ever since he’d come to her in the bathroom, he’d constantly been soothing her, holding her hand, comforting her in whichever way he could; and, although he’d vehemently deny it, she was beginning to notice that he was a big softy underneath all the leather and swagger. The naked look in his eyes as he’d fretted over her belied the ‘big bad’ attitude that he wore as a shroud.

Her attention was brought back to the attendant as she finally backed the chair away from the desk.

Turning the monitor towards the two blondes, Andrea finally spoke up. “Do you want to see the baby?”

Both Buffy and Spike nodded simultaneously--in any other circumstance it might have seemed comical, but considering what was at stake it just showed the worry that both were presently burdened with.

Andrea picked up a pen in one hand and began to roll the instrument over Buffy‘s stomach. She began a running commentary as she moved along Buffy’s belly, showing both blondes, with the help of the pen on the screen, the baby’s head, arms and legs. “And this little black spot is the heart, that you can see beating. When Dr. Nichols comes by to go over the ultrasound’s results with you, he’ll bring the Doppler so you can hear the heartbeat.”

The technician turned her attention back to the computer, hitting a key on the keyboard, causing a roll of pictures to print out. She tore the paper out of the printer and began to cut them apart. “Would you like to keep one of the pictures?” She held one in her hand, offering it to Buffy.

Before Buffy had a chance to say anything, Spike had taken the picture from the technician. He still held Buffy’s hand, but he was now leaning in over her, elbows propped up on the bed, staring quietly at the picture. She would have given anything to know what was going on in his mind as he stared at her unborn child.

Guilt. He’d never felt this much guilt since he’d been turned. Hell, he was a demon and demons didn’t feel remorse. They found pleasure in murder and mayhem, joy in the fear they instilled, and exhilaration in the kill. And as a vampire he’d relished, more times than he could count, the feel of taking another’s life. The struggling, the screaming, the pleading--it was all part of the rush.

Spike stared at the Slayer’s child--although it didn’t look like much right now, with its large head, tiny arms and tiny legs. Hadn’t been able to make those out, even when the tech had pointed them out.

But it had a heart. A small, beating heart. Beating as it slept, as it moved, as it took its nourishment from its mother’s body. It was a tiny life, just like the one that had been in the stomach of that woman so long ago.

Why did her face appear so clearly to him, almost a century later? Her big brown eyes, filled with fear for her life and that of her unborn child. She’d pleaded, begged, but Spike would have none of it. To him, she was but another meal. A right yummy one too, if what he’d heard about pregnant women was true. Richer blood, and more of it. Remorseless, he’d drained her without a second thought.

He’d even patiently waited as Dru had cut into the dead woman’s stomach, wanting a baby of her own. He was sure the baby had still been alive, its tiny arms and legs twitching because of the cold as his dark princess separated it from its dead mother. But by the time the child was in Dru’s arms, it was bereft of any life. Already bored with her new ’doll’, the vampiress discarded it onto its mother’s body, turning with Spike to leave the alleyway.

The Slayer’s wary voice woke him from his reverie. “Spike?”

The vampire shook his head, noticing that the tech was no longer in the room with them. How long had he been lost in his memories? “Sorry, pet. I must’ve zoned out.” He looked at the picture once again and a small smile formed on his lips. This was one child that he’d make sure would live a long, healthy life.

He handed the printout to the Slayer, who was still lying on the bed. His brow shot up, however, when she shook her head and closed his fingers over the picture.

“No. I’ve already got one--I put it up on the fridge. You can keep this one, if you want.” Then, she got an odd look on her face--part curious, part sad. Her small hand still cupped around his, she held her eyes steady on his. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Spike. Please.”

Oh, bugger. He couldn’t possibly replay for her the scene that had gone through his mind--she’s stake him on the spot, and with good warrant. For some reason, at that moment the Slayer’s disappointment in him would burn more than the touch of sunlight on his skin.
But those eyes. Those big, green eyes that would stare straight into his soul, had he one. He couldn’t lie to them, to her. So he chose the safest route. Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

“Seein’ the bit, how small he is and how vulnerable. It just reminded me of all the lives I’ve taken, is all.” He grew silent and his hand went to her belly of its own volition. There was no swell there yet but there was a life there nonetheless. His finger traced circles in the lubricant that remained there from the ultrasound.

The vampire’s touch was cool, but oddly comforting. Buffy knew, from his hesitancy to answer to his quiet frame of mind, that the vampire wasn’t telling all. A lump caught in her throat as two thoughts entered her mind: he must have done something unthinkable to a baby once, or maybe a pregnant woman; and he must feel guilty about it.

Although she felt ill at the thought of Spike killing anything other than demons, Buffy felt a little pride on his behalf for the first true bit of conscience she was witnessing. Her hand moved to his hair, soft despite the years of bleaching, in a caressing gesture as she tried to figure out what to tell him. Something that would imply that she knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling, and that she would be there for him just as he’d been there for her.

However, when she opened her mouth to speak up, to say anything to break the silence, the door opened and a doctor walked in.

“Good morning. I’m doctor Nichols.” He greeted them both with a nod before setting Buffy’s folder on the desk. The doctor, a tall, lanky man with greying hair had a friendly air about him that immediately put the young woman at ease.

He flipped through the paperwork, soaking in what was written. “So, you had a bit of a slip, huh?”

“Yeah, darn that slippery grass. Just snuck up on me.” Buffy smiled shyly at the doctor.

The doctor smiled back, glad to see that his patient was at least well enough to have a sense of humour. “Are you in any pain from the fall? Does your back or your stomach hurt at all?” He began to press into the sides of the Slayer’s belly, looking to see if there were any tender spots.

Buffy’s hand tightened around Spike’s at the doctor’s touch. Sure, he was nice enough but it still wasn’t enough to calm the fear she felt. “No, I think it was just the shock of seeing the bleeding that had me so freaked out. I don’t think I was in much pain at all, come to think of it.” It was an embarrassing admission, but it was the truth.

Nodding, the Dr. Nichols turned to pick up what looked to Spike like a ham radio. It reminded him of the second World War. Which in turn reminded him of just how long he’d been around... The doctor’s voice brought him back to the here and now.

“That’s understandable, Buffy. Bleeding can be a sign of something serious, but it can also mean that your insides got jostled around more than they should have.” He picked up one of the ultrasound photos and showed it to the two blondes. Pointing to a small dark spot just to the baby’s left, he explained. “The fall you took earlier caused a bit of a tear in the uterine wall. However, it seems to have healed already.” He looked at the Slayer above his glasses. “That’s a heck of a recuperation, Miss Summers... but I’ve grown accustomed to the abnormal during my residency here at Sunnydale General. Usually I’d recommend three or four days’ bed rest, but with how quickly you seem to heal, I’d be happy if you stayed off your feet for 24 hours. Now, you might want to book an appointment with your doctor for a follow up, just to make sure everything’s fine. It’s never bad to be on the cautious side.”

Turning the switch on the ’radio’ he smiled. “Well, let’s move on to something more fun, shall we? Have you had a chance to hear the Doppler yet?”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, two weeks ago at my last appointment.” She turned her eyes to Spike, who was looking at the instrument quizzically. Squeezing his hand, she added. “But it would be reassuring to hear the baby’s heartbeat again.”

The doctor began to roll a smaller version of the ultrasound’s roller instrument over Buffy’s belly, closer to her pelvis. As he kept moving it, it just made a staticky sound like dead air on a radio. With a bit of searching, he finally hit a spot where the static included a fast whoosh, whoosh, whoosh sound. “There you go, a good healthy heartbeat. A bit shook up, maybe, but that would be mostly in relation to the stress you were feeling over the bleeding.”

Dr. Nichols put the Doppler back on the desk and handed Buffy some tissues to wipe the lubricant off of her belly. “Now, get lots of rest,” he shot a friendly look at Spike, “and lots of pampering. If the bleeding continues, I want you to see your doctor right away. But,” he looked at her over his glasses again--what was it with middle-aged men with glasses?--”if the speed with which your tear healed gives any indication, the bleeding probably stopped a while ago.”

The doctor picked the folder and the Doppler up and walked to the door. Both he and Buffy were more than surprised to hear the genuine ‘thanks doc’ that came from the bleached blonde, who up to that moment had been but a quiet observer.