Everything felt so surreal to him at that moment, and he wasn’t really processing anything that was happening, but just going with it. He knew that he wanted to stay, wanted and needed to see his child, to somehow make this whole experience real to him.
He shuffled down the hall when they were led by a nurse to a room, and when Buffy was wheeled in by Doyle, Spike asked the nurse if he could join them. The nurse told him no, that it was just for the mother-to-be and the coach. He wanted to tell the woman that he was the father of that baby inside the mother-to-be, except he didn’t feel he had the right to say that. As much as that child was his, and he didn’t even question Buffy’s honesty— for why would she lie about something like that? – Spike did not feel he had any right to be anywhere near her or his child. He felt like an outsider, an observer, and that was all. And for all intents and purposes, that’s exactly all he was. It wasn’t as if he’d been with her over the past nine months. He hadn’t been given the chance to build up some kind of connection to his child, as difficult as that could be anyway. He hadn’t been there to take care of Buffy, to watch her belly swell with his seed, his child, his flesh and blood. Their flesh and blood. He hadn’t known of this at all. All he’d had were memories of her.
He’d found as time passed, he’d built her up in his mind as some kind of paragon of all the good things he could never have, but would be blessed if he could. She had almost reached sainthood in his eyes and he supposed that’s what happened when something ended much too quickly and, while it had lasted, was seemingly flawless. He constantly had to repeat to himself that it was just one night, and yet that had done nothing to wane his want of her.
It hadn’t stopped his activities much, however. Though, there had been a decline of sex and a lot more drinking in its place. Anything to get the hatred out. And when he was in need of a woman to dispel her from his system, he thought of her. He was sure that would do little to appease her. Hell, it did little to appease him these days.
In his musings, Spike hadn’t noticed right away Doyle coming out in the hall. Watching the Irish bloke come toward him, looking mad as hell, which was quite a jump since he’d seemed so patient and attentive to Buffy just seconds before, Spike felt his defenses go up. He wouldn’t put it past this fella to take a swing at him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Doyle demanded.
Spike took a step back, hating to admit that he was slightly afraid of this man. Not because he didn’t think he could hold his own should Doyle take a swing, but because he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to fight. He was all about keeping the peace at that moment.
“She came to see me,” Spike told him, “She came to tell me she was pregnant.”
“She went to see you?”
“Look, I don’t know what you know--”
“I know everything,” Doyle said bitterly. “I know exactly who you are and what you’ve done. I’m very aware that baby is yours.”
“Which explains why you’re madder than hell right now. Look pal, you don’t know me--”
“I’m not upset with her for telling you. I’m trying to figure out what the hell you’re still doing here.”
Spike stared at him, aghast. “What do you mean, what am I still doing here? That’s my kid!”
“Are you still married?”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with this--”
“It has everything to do with it! Why do you think she didn’t tell you to begin with you stupid sod?”
Spike glared at him, “Look, you don’t know anything about me--”
“And I don’t care to,” Doyle said simply. “All I need to know is that you hurt Buffy. That’s all you had to do to get the asshole award in my book.”
“What about the fact that she kept the fact that she was pregnant from me? How was that okay?”
“She didn’t think it was safe to tell you!”
“What did she think I would do? Take the child?” Spike balked at the idea of separating any child from their mother. Unless of course that child belonged to Cecily, then he would move heaven and earth to do so.
“If that bitch wife of yours got wind of it, she could have wanted to out of spite.”
“You obviously don’t know my wife; though you did get the bitch part right. She doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body.”
“Why should she have told you anything? You lied to her!”
“Isn’t omitting the truth a lie as well?” Spike challenged.
“You cheat on your wife for sport,” Doyle was seething in his anger. “How did you think she was going to be okay with that?”
“That didn’t give her the right to keep me in the dark about my kid.”
“Just leave her alone, Spike.”
“She came to see me. If she didn’t want me part of this, she wouldn’t have sought me out.”
“She’s also been moody and hormonal. I’ll bet she doesn’t even know why she sought you out. Just leave her be. Let her have her child and let her be happy. Don’t stick around if all you’re going to do is fuck her life up and her kid’s life. Give them a shot to have some happiness.” And with that, Doyle was going back to Buffy.
Spike stood there, staring at the door that Doyle had just retreated into. In that room was Buffy, the woman that had touched him so deeply once upon a time, the woman he thought about on a daily basis still, and that woman was currently in labor having their child.
Doyle’s words were ringing in his ears ‘Don’t stick around if all you’re going to do is fuck up her life and her kid’s life.’
Well, wasn’t that something? Wasn’t that him? A giant fuck-up. Buffy had been partly right those nine months ago. He couldn’t make Cecily happy, though he didn’t want to make her happy, and most of all, he couldn’t make himself happy. That was the kicker.
He’d hurt the girl. He’d thought…what? She’d overlook his marital status? Thought she’d never find out? They always found out. The truth had a way of always coming out, and usually at the most inopportune times. Though, what really would have been an opportune time?
If only…
He found himself thinking that quite often. If only he hadn’t been married and he’d met her. If only he’d never met Cecily, if only he’d said no to the marriage deal, if only he’d approached Buffy in high school…if, if, if. They fucked with his head, over and over and over again. Sometimes he pondered how else he could have worked it out. Maybe he could have just struck up a friendship with Buffy first and then she could have given him the strength he needed to up and leave Cecily and not care what she could do to him. But then he’d had to go and kiss her…his whole world changed in that moment.
His whole world, he figured, was just beyond those doors. The world that worth fighting for anyway.
He supposed he could take Doyle’s advice and go, not bother her and not bother to even get a glimpse of the baby that was going to be coming out of her at any moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
If he couldn’t see Buffy one more time, then he’d find some way to reconcile himself to that, but he wanted to see his child. Shuffling down the hall, Spike planted himself in the waiting room that was opposite the receiving room for all the infants, and waited.
It was a boy. He had a son. Buffy had been right in her guess, but then, he hadn’t really doubted her, Buffy was a smart bird. Looking down at Brandon Wesley Summers, Spike welled up in tears. His boy was gorgeous, even if he couldn’t see much seeing as how he was swathed in blue from head to toe. Reading the sign, his boy was eight pounds, six ounces, and twenty two inches long. His eyes were closed but Spike knew all babies had blue eyes and, he knew, that boy would keep those blue eyes. The blue eyes of his father. Watching his boy sleep, Spike wept in joy and in sadness. If he were any other man than the man he currently was, he’d be running and shouting down the hall that he had a son. Except, he had no claim on this perfect bundle before him. He wasn’t a man, and he was even less of a father. A nurse coming in the room waved and smiled at him and Spike gestured for her to come closer.
“Buffy Summers, is she all right?” he asked, shouting slightly to be heard.
“She’s fine. Would you like to see her?”
Spike wanted to, but didn’t think he’d be received well and since she’d just given birth…
“No,” Spike mouthed and shook his head, his gaze retreating back to his son.
“Brandon Wesley Summers,” he said aloud, rolling his son’s name on his tongue, thinking he sounded regal.
Brandon Wesley Giles. Now that’d be something, wouldn’t it?