She turned her gaze back to the tiny figure huddled underneath the white cotton blanket, one hand threading through the limp blonde hair draped over the flat pillow. "She's still sleeping."

I pulled another chair up to the bed and sat down. Rubbing my face with both hands, I felt bone-weary from being up for the last 57 hours, total mental exhaustion setting in. But, it couldn't be anything close to what my Buffy had experienced. She had been asleep for nearly two days, after an unbelievably harsh labor, an emergency hysterectomy and of course, the emotionally draining ordeal of losing yet another baby.

Buffy was curled on her side, tightly drawn in on herself, the instinct to protect herself from harm as powerful when she slept as when she was awake. Her face, even in sleep, was etched in grief and still starkly beautiful.

I lay the back of my hand against her cheek and was startled to feel her chilled skin. "She's cold." Terror at the mere thought of losing her made my heart hammer wildly in my chest, so loudly I couldn't imagine why Joyce didn't hear it.

But, the soft, even brush of her breath tickled my hand and I could see the rise and fall of her chest under the blanket. I felt tears prick the back of my eyelids and I sat back down, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.

"God, don't leave me, baby." My voice choked and broke.

Joyce stood up and I felt her hand squeeze my shoulder. I blindly groped for her hand and clutched it to my cheek. I loved this woman, who, 27 years ago, gave birth to the sweetest girl I've ever known.

"Riley, be strong for her. Cry with her, grieve with her, but be strong."

"Joyce, I don't know... she had so much hope for this one. At least the others... this baby she carried to term. We were so close, so close..."

She didn't answer for a moment and I knew she was struggling to calm herself enough to speak. Five grandchildren she had been denied. I felt the inevitable guilt well up again.

"Riley, there are always other options... adoption... maybe even a surrogate... " she whispered.

Buffy stirred slightly, as if protesting her mother's words.

"She wanted her own. She wanted so badly to have our baby."

And, I had wanted it badly too, lots of babies to make my life with Buffy even more perfect than it already was. I lay my head against the soft swell of my wife's hip, the cotton blanket soft under my unshaven cheek.

"I know, honey. It's not to be. Rupert... he seems to think that it's a Slayer thing. An inability to carry a baby to term as some sort of guarantee that the Slayer won't be burdened by motherhood," Joyce said, repeating words I had already heard, a thousand times before, ever since Buffy's first miscarriage.

"Burdened...she was so happy, remember? When she reached the third trimester? It was longer than she'd been able to carry before and she was so... she just glowed, Joyce. I've never seen Buffy look more beautiful," I said, my fingers stroking Buffy's hand, the pale skin cool beneath my fingertips.

I could hear Joyce gulp past her sobs and she made a little sound. I gripped her hand and tried to force back my own tears, but it was impossible. I was leaking a small puddle on the blanket.

"I'm going to go get some coffee; would you like any?" she finally choked out.

I shook my head. "Not right now, thanks. I just need some time alone with Buffy."

"If you need me... "

I looked up at Joyce then and my heart broke all over again. She looked lost and years older. "I'll let you know when she wakes up."

"Thank you , Riley."

With a final squeeze of my hand, my mother-in-law left the hospital room.

After the door closed behind her, I scooted my chair closer and lay my head down on the pillow beside Buffy's, my eyes fastened on her lovely face. I wanted her to wake up, needed her to, just so I would finally know if she hated me. She had fought the doctors when they insisted on the hysterectomy, but I, in complete fear for her life, signed the authorization papers in her place. I've faced some of the most horrifying monsters that the Hellmouth could throw at me with courage, but the thought of losing Buffy filled me with a mind-numbing horror.

After the baby, a girl, had been delivered stillborn, Buffy had started to hemorrhage. Bleeding out, I think they called it. She was screaming, her hands outstretched for the tiny, blue figure that had been swiftly spirited away, and blood, almost black under the fluorescent glare of the delivery room lights, had poured out of her. I was operating on auto-pilot by then, my primary goal was Buffy and her precious life. When Dr. Mathews had pulled me aside and quickly explained what needed to be done, I agreed, unconditionally. If a hysterectomy would stop that horrible waterfall of blood, then so be it.

Buffy, in her grief, screamed in total hysteria, begging the doctors not to do it. That if they did, she'd never be able to have any children. I rushed to her, trying to comfort her, but she turned on me, blaming me for the death of our most recent child.

Even though I knew she didn't mean it, the words cut into me like a knife. But, before I could do or say anything, I was being rushed out of the room by the nurses. As the door closed behind me, I could see the tiny body of our child and Buffy's hand still outstretched towards it.

Now, as I stroked Buffy's cheek, drinking in her beloved features, I worried. Worried about the future, about losing Buffy's love, her sanity. I wondered how on earth she was going to survive another crushing tragedy. For that matter, I wondered how I would survive it.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, unable to stop the moan of anguish that clogged my throat. "Oh God, Buffy, I love you so much... please come back to me... " I whispered, leaning forward to gently press a kiss to her soft mouth.

She stirred beneath my hands, shifting slowly underneath the blanket. "R-riley?"

I pulled back, staring at her beloved face with my heart in my throat. "Yeah, I'm here, sweetie."

Her eyes opened and they were glazed with pain and drugs. "Hurt... I hurt... "

I fumbled for the little button that activated the painkillers. I pushed it, then laid it aside. "Are you thirsty?"

She nodded, her gaze never leaving mine. I fished for an ice chip out of the cup and slipped it between her lips.

"They... the doctor, he did it, didn't he?" she whispered, her voice still raspy from fatigue.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I didn't realize I was crying until my tears dripped onto Buffy's pillow.

Her eyes welled up with tears and harsh sobs shook her tiny frame. "Why? Oh, Riley, why?"

"I'm sorry, Buffy, but you would've died! I couldn't let that happen!" I cried, my fingers stroking her cheek, trying to catch all of her tears.

"A-all I ever w-wanted was to give you a baby... God, I can't now! Not ever!"

Knowing it wasn't the right time to bring it up, I echoed Joyce's earlier words. "Maybe we can adopt... or, your mom mentioned a surrogate... "

"It's not the same! I wanted your baby, Riley! I wanted to give birth to your baby! God, it's just not the same," she cried.

Unable to bear her grief any longer, I crawled up on the bed and pulled her into my arms. Cradled there, she wept and trembled and I rained little kisses on her face and neck and cried with her.

"Riley?" she finally whispered, her face pressed against my neck.

I stroked her back as I gently rocked her. "What is it, sweetie?"

Buffy pulled away slightly, her luminous green eyes searching my face. "Please... " she started, then paused as her voice choked. Taking a deep breath, she continued "Don't hate me, Riley. Please. I don't think I could live another second if I lose you too."

I clutched her closer, burying my face in the soft warmth of her neck. "Never, Buffy! You'll never lose me!" I took her lips in a tender kiss, pouring into it every ounce of love and passion I could, wanting to reassure my wife that I worshipped her with my very life.

Buffy wound her arms around my neck and sobbed into my mouth. "Why does this keep happening to us, Riley? It hurts so much!" she wailed.

I let her cry it out, vowing to myself that if it took an eternity, I would make her life as perfect as I was able. Almost a half an hour had passed and I thought she was asleep, but her voice, soft and tentative, drifted up to me. "Was it a girl?"

"Yeah. She was beautiful, Buffy. Just like you."

Another tremor wracked her body. "Can we name her? We can't bury her without a name."

"Did you still want to name her Charity?" The name sounded strange to me now and I thought of the hours Buffy and I had spent, looking through baby name books, searching for the perfect one.

"Yeah. It was her name, you know? Charity Anne Finn. We can still give her a name." Buffy winced as she struggled into a sitting position. I shifted so that she could lay against my chest.

"Of course. I think that's a wonderful idea."

"The dress that your grandmother sent, the white one? We can... she can... wear that."

I nodded, feeling the tears well up again. A phantom vision of a tiny blonde child, dressed in pristine white ruffles warred with my memory of the stillborn baby that I had briefly held before two sad-eyed nurses had taken her away. I swallowed hard.

Buffy looked up at me and through her tears, she smiled.

"I love you , Riley. I'm sorry, so very sorry."

I returned her smile and kissed her forehead. "We'll get through this, Buffy. I promise. I love you and I promise you, everything in my power to give is yours."

She pillowed her head on my chest, one hand entwining with mine.

"You're all I need."

The End

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