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Chapter Four

As everyone settled down for the long ride back to the Council headquarters, Giles and Willow phoned ahead to let everyone know that the mission had been a success. Giles was concerned with increasing security in the event of a retaliatory attack, although he doubted W & H would have been able to mount one so quickly; Willow, however, was whispering to Dawn and Emma, telling them that they should go ahead with the plans they’d made earlier.

Buffy squirmed uncomfortably on her seat, the wet underwear becoming increasingly embarrassing as the adrenaline rush subsided and she became more aware of her condition. The baby, apparently also stimulated by the flood of hormones, began kicking vigorously, tiny arms and legs going in four different directions.

“Guh!” Buffy’s involuntary gasp had Spike placing a soothing hand on her belly.

“We’ll be there soon, love,” he whispered. “You can get cleaned up, change clothes and sleep in your own bed again.”

“I don’t think sleep’s on the baby’s agenda,” she said, wincing as another baby foot pushed a rib out of place.

While she cuddled next to him, grateful that he no longer had a vamp’s sense of smell, Spike caressed her stomach with long, relaxing strokes that eventually calmed the baby to the point that the kicks and punches were exchanged for more easily ignored squirming.

“This is all your fault, you know,” she grumbled.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, but his eyes were shadowed by the knowledge that she was right – without his return, she would have been left in peace to enjoy the life he’d left her.

“I’m sorry, love. I truly am. Maybe it would be best if I…”

Buffy hadn’t noticed his pained reaction and continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“If you weren’t so horny all the time, I wouldn’t be all fat and ugly and peeing in my pants and having my ribs pushed out of shape…”

Relief flooded his face, and he laughed at her indignation.

“I take full responsibility, pet. I’m a selfish wanker, I am. Just can’t keep my hands off you…” He nuzzled her neck, his quiet gusts of laughter stirring her hair while she continued to grumble even as she snuggled closer to him.

“It’s a good thing I love you,” she muttered. “Otherwise, I’d have to kill you for this.”

The seats on the old bus weren’t terribly comfortable, forcing Buffy to stand up several times, holding on to the back of the seat and swaying with the motion of the vehicle until she felt like she could sit down again. Spike did his best to keep her comfortable, rubbing her lower back and telling jokes in an attempt to take her mind off her discomfort. Eventually, she decided to lie down, her head on Spike’s lap and her legs dangling into the aisle.

“Oh, we should have done this a long time ago,” she said with relief as her back stretched out and the aches eased. “Why didn’t you think of it before?”

Rolling his eyes, and then glaring at the snickering onlookers, he responded patiently, “I don’t know, pet. I’m just a selfish git, I s’pect.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you. But only because you rescued me…” Her voice trailed off as the day’s events caught up to her and she drifted off to sleep, her head resting on Spike’s muscular thigh and her hand clasped tightly around the arm holding her firmly onto the seat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At everyone’s insistence, Buffy agreed to visit the school’s Health Center for a quick check-up before going home. She flatly refused any suggestion that she stay there overnight, arguing that if there was one thing she’d had plenty of in the past several weeks, it was medical care.

“I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed, with my husband.”

There were nods all around and as soon as Buffy, to her great relief, had showered and changed into clean sweat pants, she and Spike climbed into Giles’ car for the ride home. Xander and Faith promised they would come up the following day to discuss moving from the school’s Spartan guest accommodations to the guest room of the Summers’ home.

“Where’s Dawn?” Buffy asked, her surprise and disappointment obvious as she got into the back seat.

“Um…I think she’s waiting for you at your house,” Willow volunteered, not wanting to give away what Dawn, Teddy and Emma had been doing while Buffy was on her way back from London.

“Oh, okay. I guess she had to feed Noelle, with Spike gone and all…”

“Yep. That’s probably it. She went to take care of the cat.”

Teddy’s car was indeed in front of the house when they drove up; and Dawn, Teddy and Emma were waiting on the front porch. Buffy had barely mounted the top step when Dawn smothered her in a hug, crying and laughing as she tried to get her long arms around her sister. After sharing less demonstrative, thoughequally sincere hugs with Teddy and Emma, Buffy led the way into the house – stopping in astonishment when Dawn hit a light switch.

To her left, the living room sparked with the lights from a fully decorated tree occupying the same spot as last year’s brave defiance of grief. Ropes of greenery hung along the mantle, along with candles and pinecones. A colorful basket sat near the fireplace filled with all the Christmas cards that had not yet been opened.

A quick glance into the dining room showed that room also decorated, including the table already set for a holiday meal.

“What…what day is it?” Buffy looked around in bewilderment. She’d tried to keep track of the days she’d been held in her small, interior room, but she’d been drugged so often in the beginning that she really had little idea how much time had passed.

“It’s the twentieth of December,” Dawn volunteered. “Only five days till Christmas. We thought you’d like to come home to a festive house.”

“It looks wonderful. Thank you so much – all of you,” she added, including Giles and Spike in her warm gaze.

“We’re just all very grateful to have you back safely,” Giles said, giving her a brief, but heartfelt hug. “Willow has warded the house against any unwelcome visitors – demon or human – so you should be able to rest comfortably with no worries.”

Very quickly, in a flurry of ‘thank you’s and ‘goodnight’s, the house was empty. Spike and Buffy were left standing in the doorway, arms around each other, Noelle weaving around Buffy’s legs and purring happily.

Shutting the door against the cold, Spike turned Buffy around and led her into the living room. He turned the overhead light off and they stood together for a minute, admiring the tree and the way its lights were reflected back from the window. Suddenly, he drew a deep shuddering breath and buried his face in Buffy’s neck.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said, his voice choking. “Thought I’d really failed you this time and you were going to be gone forever – you and the little one.”

Buffy ran a hand over his head with long, soothing strokes.

“I knew you’d come for me,” she whispered. “I never doubted. I was just trying to keep the baby safe until you got there.”

He nodded. “I know you were, pet. And I love you for it…but we can make more babies. I’ll never have another Buffy. If it came down to it--”

“Don’t finish that thought!”

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean that the way it came out. Didn’t mean I’m not happy that you’re both still here, or that I wouldn’t have moved a Ch’klath demon the size of a mountain to save the sprog. I just meant that I could deal with losing one of you – but not both.”

“We’re both right here,” she whispered, holding his face in both hands and brushing lips across his. “And we’re not going anywhere. I promise.”

Pretending she couldn’t see the tears he was blinking back, she moved towards the hallway, tugging on his hand. “But, you know what? I’m really sick of hospital beds, lights in my face all night, and being by myself in bed. I’m ready for a good winter night’s nap right here in my own bed with my own personal bed warmer beside me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, Spike was awakened by Buffy’s voice and her hand shaking his shoulder.

“Spike! Wake up! I think I’m having a baby!”

“Huh? Wha..?” He sat up so fast he almost hit her in the face with his head. “You’re what? Now? But…next week…or…”

“Now. Trust me. Here, feel.” She took his hand and placed it on her swollen belly. Instead of the normal squirming or kicking that he was accustomed to feeling, he felt her whole stomach slowly seize up until it was rock hard. He looked up at her with wide eyes as the hardness gradually ebbed and she took a deep breath.

“Is that…?”

“Yup. Pretty sure that’s a contraction. And, as soon as you wake up enough to notice that the bed’s wet, you’ll know my water has broken. We’ve got a baby on the way.”

Buffy’s voice was a mixture of pride and nervousness as she waited for his reaction.

“Baby. On the way. Now. Right this minute…” In a daze, he turned on the bedside lamp and peered at her stomach.

“Well, probably not right this minute. But soon. Sometime tonight --or today,” she amended, looking at the clock.

“We should go!” He leapt from the bed and began throwing on the clothes he’d dropped the night before. “What are you doing just sitting there? Get up! We have to go. I’m not playing doctor for this!”

“Relax. I’ll be fine. You need to call Lucille and tell her what’s going on, and see if she thinks we should leave now or if it can wait until daylight.”

While Spike searched for the midwife’s home number, Buffy calmly got up, stripped the bed, stepped into the shower and rinsed off the fluid still running down her legs. A glance at her stomach showed her that the baby had dropped considerably during the night, and it was now pressing uncomfortably against her pelvic floor. Another contraction had her grabbing her belly and stroking it until the cramp passed.

Spike stuck his head in the door, phone clutched in his hand. “She wants to know how far apart the contractions are.”

“I don’t know – however long it’s been since the last one. Five or ten minutes? Did you tell her my water broke?”

The excited voice from the phone made it clear that Spike had not mentioned that important bit of information.

“She says we should get to the Infirmary. She’ll meet us there.”

“’k”

Buffy quickly dressed and threw some things in an overnight bag. She gave a puzzled Noelle a kiss on her nose and put her back on the bed. “I’m sorry, Noey, baby. I thought I’d be home longer than this. But I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

While Spike danced anxiously from foot to foot, Buffy calmly went about making sure she had a change of clothes, her toothbrush and her makeup with her.

“I’ll bring you a bloody toothbrush!” he finally shouted when she went back into the bathroom for the second time. “Let’s go!”

Leaving Buffy on the porch, he quickly brought the little car he’d bought for them around the house and opened the door. Taking the steps in one bound, he helped her walk down, pausing to stroke her abdomen when it tightened again. As soon as Buffy could walk again, he hustled her down the final step and into the car.

The trip to the Council complex took only a few minutes at that hour of the night, and Spike drove right past the slayer posted at the entrance, pointing to Buffy as he barreled through the gate and went straight to the building housing the school’s small hospital.

The midwife met them at the door, holding it wide for Buffy and smiling to herself at Spike’s frantic face.

“It’s too early, innit? Is something wrong? Why is she having it now? What’s happened? Is this because of what we did yesterday? Is it my fault for making her run?”

“Relax, Dad,” she said with a tolerant smile. “If she over-exerted herself a bit she might have got things going a bit sooner than expected, but a week ahead of a due date is hardly grounds for panic. She’ll be fine.”

After a short conversation with Buffy about her contractions and how long ago they’d begun, Lucille sent her off with the on-duty night nurse to get undressed and into the room the staff had set up as a birthing room. With no reason to think a healthy, fit young woman would not have an uncomplicated and relatively easy birth, the consulting obstetrician for the Council Headquarters had agreed to allow Buffy to have the baby near her home. With the clear understanding that if Lucille saw anything in Buffy’s weekly checkups that gave her any reason for concern, she would agree to travel to the public hospital and its better equipped neonatal unit.

The weeks that Buffy had been gone, of course, meant than Lucille had not seen her for those weekly visits just when it was most important that she keep tabs on how the baby was doing. However, Buffy’s description of the regular testing carried out by her captors seemed to indicate that no one had detected any problems with the baby or the expectant mother. Lucille’s short conversation with the nurse who had checked Buffy over when she came in after her return earlier in the evening reassured the midwife that the slayer was still as healthy and strong as she’d been the last time Lucille had seen her, and she felt comfortable reassuring the visibly nervous expectant father.

As soon as Buffy was ensconced in a bed as comfortably as was possible for someone who periodically gripped the sides of the bed with white knuckles and held her breath until the contraction passed, Spike was allowed to join her. He pulled a chair up beside the bed, studying her anxiously.

“How do feel love? Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”

Buffy shook her head, gripping his hand tightly as another contraction rippled across her stomach.

“Just stay here.”

“Nothing could drag me away, love.” He stroked her head with his free hand, smiling when she leaned into it.

An hour later, as Buffy began slowly crushing the bones in his hand, he was rethinking his words. One look at the expression on her face told him complaining was not in his best interest, and he did his best to smile innocently when she said through gritted teeth, “This is entirely your fault. If you were still a vampire…”

Lucille smiled encouragingly as Spike appealed to her for help, saying softly, “Transition, remember? This is a good thing.” He thought back to the few childbirth classes he and Buffy’d had time to attend before she was abducted and nodded his understanding. Buffy had released his hand to clutch the sides of the bed again, and he flexed his bruised fingers and tried hard to remember how long this stage of labor was supposed to last.

As expected by the midwife, once Buffy had reached the point where the baby was in position to be pushed out, it didn’t take terribly long for her enhanced muscles to do what was needed, and there was soon an indignant wail as the first Summers-Pratt child slipped into Lucille’s waiting hands. She quickly put the slimy baby on Buffy’s stomach and encouraged her to hold it there while she snipped the cord and took care of the placenta.

“Spike! Look! We have a baby! A beautiful baby…boy?”

“Looks like, love. Got all his manly parts.” While he would have had trouble describing the bloody, slippery-looking creature squirming and crying on Buffy’s belly as “beautiful”, he couldn’t help beaming with pride. “I have a son,” he barely whispered, the miracle he had just witnessed overwhelming his ability to speak.
At no time in his over 150 years of existence had he ever expected to be able to say that. In spite of Angel’s magical production of a son and heir, he’d had no expectations of having the same thing happen to him.

“We have a son,” Buffy corrected gently. She reluctantly released her hold on the baby so the nurse could take him away and clean him up. By the time Lucille had declared everything fine and had shaken hands with the proud new father and mother, the baby was back, now clean and bundled into a soft cotton blanket. The little knitted cap on his head hid the sparse golden curls that had been just visible before he was whisked away.

As soon as Buffy had been cleaned up and the sheets changed, the remaining signs of medical equipment were wheeled out of the room, the lights were dimmed, and it took on the appearance of spare, but comfortable bedroom. A rocking chair was pulled from its place against the wall and placed next to the comfortable chair that Spike had been using.

With a promise to come back shortly and help Buffy to get the baby started nursing, the nurse left the new little family to get acquainted. Spike sat in the rocking chair, still seeming to be speechless as he took in the sight of Buffy cuddling his son.

“Do you want to hold him?” Buffy’s voice startled him out of his awestruck staring, and she giggled when his eyes widened in terror. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt him.” She spoke with all the authority of a woman who had yet to do anything but gaze lovingly at the new person in her life.

Spike reached up timidly, taking the tiny bundle from Buffy’s secure grip and bringing it down to his lap. Unfocused bright blue eyes stared back at him solemnly. Spike lifted him up, cradling the bundle in one arm while he ran a calloused finger lightly down the baby’s face. When the baby turned his face towards the finger and began making snuffling noises, Buffy smiled and held out her hands.

“I think he wants his mommy,” she said.

Spike stood up and leaned over the bed, not releasing his hold on the now squirming bundle until he could see that Buffy had a good grip on the baby. As soon as Buffy was cradling the infant, he began rooting around on her chest, seeking his first meal. She giggled and looked up at Spike’s incredulous face.

“Like father, like son,” she giggled again, pushing down the collar of her gown and exposing one nipple. They both watched in fascination as the baby immediately latched on to it and began suckle enthusiastically, if not expertly. When Lucille came back in, she smiled at them and said, “Well, looks like you’ve got this all figured out. Don’t need me, do you?”

“I think he figured it out,” Spike said, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. “He’s brilliant, don’t you think?”

The nurse smiled indulgently. “No doubt he is,” she said kindly. “And good-looking, too.”

“Oh, that goes without saying,” Spike smirked, the arrogance of the remark tempered by the way he was gazing at the baby’s mother.

“What is his name?” At Lucille’s innocent question, Spike and Buffy looked at each other with wide eyes.

“We never got very far with that discussion,” she explained. “We’d just started talking about names when I…” She smiled up at Spike. “Should he be William?”

“If you’d like, love. As long as it’s not Rupert or Hank.”

“William. I want to name him William. And we’ll call him…what will we call him? He can’t be Will, that would get too confusing.”

“Not gonna be a Willy,” Spike growled. “He’d have to fight his whole life.” The incongruity of someone like Spike worrying about his son having to fight had Buffy and the nurse exchanging eye rolls.

“He can be a Bill or a Billy,” Buffy suggested. “We can make Rupert his middle name…” Her hearty laughter as Spike sputtered disturbed Billy enough that he let go and gave a loud wail, only quieting when his mother guided his mouth back to her nipple.

“Not funny, Slayer,” Spike muttered. “It’s not like it couldn’t happen.”

“I wouldn’t do that to an innocent baby.”

Spike sat back down in the rocking chair, one hand resting on the bed against Buffy’s hip while he listened to the contented murmurs coming from the small bundle at her breast. The nurse smiled indulgently at the peaceful scene and left the information she’d planned to go over with Buffy on the nightstand before tiptoeing out of the room. She returned shortly, wheeling in a bassinet with “Baby Summers-Pratt” crossed out and “Billy Summers-Pratt” written on the card that had come with the borrowed baby bed. She put the bassinet beside the bed, showing Spike how to lock the wheels, then left them again, pointing to the call button and saying the day nurse would be there in a few hours to answer any questions they might have.

When Billy’s eyes shut and his mouth fell off her breast, Buffy allowed Spike to place him in the bedside bassinet while her own eyes drifted shut. In a few minutes the only sounds to be heard were Buffy’s faint snores and the distant sound of Christmas carols coming from a radio somewhere in the clinic. Spike settled into the rocking chair, determined to keep watch over his little family until morning.





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