Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, I just use ‘em. Buffy, Spike et al. are the property of a very, very lucky ME.

Author’s Note: My muse for this story has been my own pregnancy. Although Buffy’s experiences are an amalgam of all my friends’ pregnancies, I still base most of how she feels on my own sentiments. There are a number of unbelievably good Spuffy baby stories out there (*cough* Kallysten *cough*), and I thought I’d add my own take on things to the mix. And thanks to Melissa for her amazing beta duties!

1. Alone

“What?”

She was incredulous yet her voice retained a calm, tentative quality such as one would use with a frightened animal. Every fibre of her being screamed out that this wasn’t happening, that this was only a bad dream. How had Ebeneezer Scrooge worded it? ‘A bit of undigested beef’--something like that, anyway.

Great. Her world was falling apart before her and all she could think of was a Christmas movie. She was certifiable, if anything.

“This is a joke, right? This is the part where you smile, cuff me on the shoulder and say ‘gotcha’ and we both laugh it off. Right?”

Her counterpart, a tall, muscular brunette, shifted from foot to foot. This wasn’t easy for him, but he had to stick to his guns. He tried a placating voice--that sometimes worked with women, no? “Look, Buffy, it’s nothing personal. You’ve got to believe me when I tell you that I still love you. I really do, it’s just that.. well...” Words eluded him. How could he say this without sounding like an asshole?

Hands clenched into fists , the young woman barely restrained the anger that flowed through her. “Still love me huh, Riley? Well you’ve got a really quirky way of showing it.”

Oh, this wasn’t working. Of course, dealing with... what they were dealing with, there was no way for them to both come out of this unscathed. Hands up in the air in a pose of surrender, the young man pleaded. “Ok, I understand this might be hard on you,” he paused, wincing at the guttural sound that came from the back of his girlfriend’s (ex-girlfriend’s?) throat. “But think of what it’s like for me. I’m not ready for this, I’m too young--you’re too young--to actually go through with this.” He barked out a laugh. “I mean think about it! Your school, your social life, your slaying...” He leaned back against the side of his jeep, arms crossed in front of his chest.

Buffy screamed and threw her hands up in frustration. “Think about it?! What the hell do you think I’ve been doing for the past two weeks? Writing poetry?” She covered her abdomen with the palm of her left hand, and lowered her voice. “This baby, this life that’s now growing inside of me--that’s all I think about. Do you think I haven’t spent hours thinking of what this means? School, I can handle--I can always go back. Friends, well--they love me enough to stand by me.” She smiled inwardly at the pain that crossed Riley’s face at her admonishment. “And the Slayer part? Think of it, Riley. What are the chances of any Slayer living long enough to have a child? I didn’t even think it was physically possible.”

She paused, trying to reign in her emotions. Sniffling, she continued. “This baby, to me, is a miracle. It’s another rude gesture, on my behalf, in the face of fate. It’s me, thumbing my nose at the powers that be. And you expect me to... to get rid of it? To kill it?!”

The young man sighed and led his head drop. They were obviously at an impasse--him not ready, not willing to undertake the life-altering responsibility that is raising a child, and her wanting nothing else. “Buffy, you know as well as I do that I can’t make you do anything. Just like you can’t make me do anything. You want to keep the baby, go ahead. Take full responsibility for raising it, caring for it--that’s your prerogative. As for me, well, I’ve accepted the army’s offer to go down to South America. This is a great opportunity for my career, and I just can’t turn it down.”

This wasn’t happening. His was leaving her, and their child, for his career? “Well, good for your career, Riley. You go play GI Joe in the jungle and I’ll stay here and play grown-up with the family that you’re leaving behind.”

“Now that’s just not fair, Buffy...”

“Not fair?! What’s not fair is you getting your girlfriend--the woman you profess to love--pregnant, then ditching her for your career. Tell me how fair that is, will you?” By now, she couldn’t help the tears that streamed down her cheeks. She felt as if a part of her were being twisted and tortured. Pulling her gaze away from his, she rooted through her pockets for a tissue, glad she always had a few on her.

Both stood there, bodies tense, emotions flaring. Neither wanting to back down from their position, not wanting to admit that the other could be right in their stance. A long while passed before Riley spoke up.

“Well, I’d better be going. The plane leaves tomorrow for Belize. I’ve got packing to do...” He kept his eyes on Buffy, not knowing how to leave. Did he just hop in the jeep and drive away, or did he give her a hug? Maybe he should just shake her hand--no, that would be very, very not right... The brunette was torn--he really did love Buffy, but he wasn’t ready to fill the role of father and husband.

“Fine.” Buffy was glad he’d broken the silence. Had it been lift up to her, they’d still be silently staring at each other two Sundays from then. “I hope your career takes you to where you want to go.” I hope you get eaten by an alligator, if there are any in Belize... “Just promise me one thing ok, Riley?”

Relieved, the young man let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Maybe she was going to take this better than he’d expected. “For you, Buffy, anything.”

Plastering a fake grin on her face, she leaned in slightly. “Promise me that you’ll never set foot in Sunnydale again. Because, God forbid, if you do I’m going to rip your guts out through your asshole and strangle you with them.”

Riley’s face paled and his mouth fell open at her threat. Maybe she wasn’t taking it so well after all... Resigned to their splitting on a bad note, he opened the jeep’s door and got in. Turning the ignition, he drove away with one thought on his mind. There simply wasn’t a reply fitting enough to what she’d said to him.

As she watched the jeep drive away, driven by the normal guy she was supposed to have and get married to--picket fence and all, after Angel had left her, Buffy crumpled to the ground. She felt like her heart had shattered, like her life was ending. She was only 19, yet she’d been through the grief of losing the love of her life--twice. She knew she was too young to have this baby, she was totally unprepared for it and its needs, but she also knew that this baby was special. Sure, all mothers-to-be think their babies are special--and they are--but to Buffy, this baby meant that she was more than just a Slayer. She was also a woman. And no amount of heartbreak could change that feeling.

“Honey, are you sure?” Joyce Summers cast a worried glance at her only daughter. “Because you usually eat a breakfast that would make Denny’s jealous.”

For the past week, the thought alone of eating before 10am had made Buffy nauseous. She was yet to experience the dreaded morning sickness, but that didn’t mean that her cast-iron stomach was up to par. Offering her mother what she hoped was a comforting smile, she tried to ease her worries. “Maybe I’m just coming down with something.” Yeah, a nine-month virus... “I’ll just make myself a peanut butter sandwich and bring it with me to school. I’ll eat it when I’m in class.”

Not reassured in the least--Joyce hadn’t known Buffy to get sick since their move to Sunnydale four years ago--Buffy’s mother knew that if her daughter was not well, there had to be something seriously wrong with her daughter. But, as the patient mother she was, she decided to ease off for the moment, hoping that her child eventually came to her in confidence. Hands flat against the island counter’s cool white surface, she watched Buffy putter around, making her lunch.

Joyce’s eyebrow shot up as she watched the young woman put together the peanut butter sandwich, a banana, an apple, a granola bar, a cup of soup pouch and half a sleeve of crackers. Something’s definitely up. Maybe I should make it a point to be here more often on mornings...

***

“Buffy!”

The Slayer turned around, scanning Sunnydale U’s main concourse for a shock of red hair. Sure enough, her best friend Willow pulled herself from the mass of students to catch up with the small blonde.

“Hey, Willow.” Buffy tried to hide the pain she was feeling--she believed she’d somehow managed to hide everything from her mother that morning, so maybe the act would snag her friends as well. With false enthusiasm and a wide grin, she hugged the other woman.

Something was off. Willow’s best friend spidey-sense was tingling and she vowed to get to the bottom of whatever it was. “Your class doesn’t start till 10:30, right?”

Uh-oh. “Um, that’s right.” Willow was a creature of habit. This wasn’t in their Tuesday routine, and Buffy was worried. A Willow routine about-face could have damning implications...

“Good. Neither does mine. That gives us a little time to ourselves. You know, best friend bonding and all that.” Smiling brightly, she grabbed Buffy by the shirt sleeve and began to pull her towards an exit. “Why don’t we go find a nice bench and catch up?”

Buffy frowned at the redhead’s strange suggestion. Definitely of the bad... “Catch up? Wills, we were both here yesterday.”

Darn, think fast! “Oh! I know that! It’s just that... you know, lots of things can happen between school and... school. Important things.” She aimed her patented resolve face at the blonde walking beside her. “Things you might only feel comfortable sharing with a best friend...” Hint, hint. Come on, Buffy.

As they sat down on a bench far removed from any student clusters, Buffy thought to herself: How does she always see through me? Even her mom hadn’t suspected anything. Well, there was that raised eyebrow when she was assembling the food-for-an-army... Great. She had to be the worst actress ever. Anyway, it wasn’t like she was going to be able to hide this particular secret for very long.

Tears pooled in her eyes, unbidden but not unwanted. She’d shed too many tears in the past fortnight to hold a grudge against them--shedding them seemed to be the only way she’d kept her sanity. A cracking voice whispered “Oh, Willow” before the young woman broke down, seeking refuge in the arms of her very concerned best friend.

Ok, maybe this was much, much worse than she’d imagined. Willow had assumed that her friend’s odd mood was founded in a fight with her mother, or with Giles, or maybe even having lost a fight against some unnamed demon the night before. Then, of course, there was Riley... But Buffy and Riley were so close--the perfect couple. Both good looking, both popular, both so in love with each other.

When the sobbing ebbed, the redhead tried to get the devastated girl’s attention. “Buffy?” She pulled a tissue out of her purse and presented it to her friend. “What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?” With a sly smile, she added: “Remember? It’s rule #3 in the girlfriend’s handbook...”

As she lifted her head from Willow’s shoulder, Buffy realized two things. One, she was getting another of those killer headaches. Two, she should have told her best friend about this the minute she found out. Well, here goes--might as well be as blunt as possible. She took a deep breath. “Willow, I’m... I’m pregnant.” At the look the redhead gave her--a mix of surprise and compassion, but not an ounce of disappointment, Buffy fought back a new onslaught of tears.

“Oh my... Oh! Oh, Buffy... Pregnant? But how?” At the pointed look the blonde gave her, she stumbled. “Well, I know how, but what I mean is how--didn’t you use protection?”

Buffy blew her nose once again. God, I must look like shit. “That’s the thing, Wills. We never, you know, without protection. Not once.”

Willow’s rational mind stepped forward for just a moment. “Well, condoms are only something like 99.9% safe. The only way you’re 100% safe is by not doing anything.”

A self-deprecating laugh escaped the blonde. “Great. First I’m chosen as the Slayer, then I’m the 0.1% that condoms can’t protect. Maybe I should start buying lottery tickets or something.”

“What does Riley think of it? I mean, he must be happy, right?”

She hadn’t meant it. She really, really hadn’t, but Willow’s words seemed to have re-opened the floodgates.

The thought of her so-called love and of their fight the night before stung like a fresh wound. No longer able to hold back the tears, she leaned once again into her friend’s embrace. Next time she was in a church, Buffy vowed to give thanks for her friends. Between sobs, she managed to tell Willow what had happened: Riley’s insistence that they were both too young, his abortion suggestion, and his departure for Belize.

By the time Buffy had finished her tale, Willow’s face matched her hair. “Ooh! The big jerk! How dare he run away when you need him most.” A wicked smile formed on her lips. “If you want, I can try to find a spell, you know--something that’ll shrivel up his parts?”

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s suggestion. “That’s ok, Wills. I think the best thing I can do is plough through and come out strong. That way I can prove that I’m stronger than him. Although I might take you up on the spell dealie when I’m in labour...”

Her words may have been spoken lightly, but the blonde felt nothing short of fear at her near future. How would she be able to cope with everything? With Slaying, school, a baby--all by herself?

Almost as if she’d read her thoughts, Willow took Buffy in a big hug. “Don’t worry, Buffy. You’ll manage great. And you’re not alone. You’ve got your mom, Giles, and us Scoobies. We’ll be your network support group.”
“Thanks, Will.” Buffy stood up and stretched. Looking at her watch, she groaned. “Well, looks like it’s time to get to class.”

Somewhere inside of Willow, there was a rebel. He was eensy, he was teensy, he was rarely let out to play, but he was there nonetheless. Yes, they‘d have to skip classes... “Buffy, have you been to a doctor yet?”

Biting her lower lip, the Slayer had the sense to look sheepish. “Uh, no. I just did one of those home pregnancy kit thingies, but that’s it.”

Standing up and offering the crook of her arm, the redhead nodded towards one of the buildings. “Well, why don’t we do that right now, then? The doctor on campus is really nice--I saw her for a sore throat last month--and you really need to see someone. You’ve got the baby to think of now.”

Ooh, sneaky best friend, using the baby as a wild card! “That was low, Willow. But you’re right. It’s just that--well, you know how I feel about doctors. They give me the wiggins... But if you’re there with me, I think I can put my brave face on.” She accepted the redhead’s arm, and they made their way towards the doctor’s office.

Telling Willow had been the right thing to do, Buffy realized. Why she tried to keep all this to herself was beyond reckoning.

As they approached the doctor’s office, Buffy’s resolve began to wane. “You know, Willow, maybe this isn’t the best time for this. Maybe she’s really busy and she doesn’t have time and...” Her face scrunched up, trying to find reasons not to go into the dreaded medical office. “Oh! And I’m missing class. A very important class where I should be learning... things. Important things that will count towards tests!” She did an about face and began to walk briskly in the opposite direction.

As Willow pivoted on place to follow her friend, she castigated herself. Should have known this was too easy. Sure, Buffy just letting herself be accompanied to the doctor’s office... Stupid Willow! Grabbing the blonde by the arm, she began to pull her back towards the doctor’s. “No. No classes, no important learning things, no excuses. We are going to walk into that office, you are going to sit your butt down in one of those ugly fuzzy chairs and I am going to sign you in.” A small dose of chastising, and a larger dose of resolve face. The young redhead knew just the right combination that would have anyone and everyone follow her every whim.

Some girls did it with a flutter of eyebrows, some with the swing of their hips, but Willow had her resolve face. Hey, whatever works, right?

Deep down inside, way beyond any mortal fear of doctors, Buffy knew her best friend was right. She had more than herself to think of now, and the baby needed her to seek medical guidance. She’d tried cutting out pop and snacks, and had begun to eat more fruit, but she was at a loss as to what else she needed to do to keep her little miracle healthy. “I’m sorry Willow. Just gave in to the wiggins there for a sec. I know you’re right and I really appreciate you using your resolve face on me. Just promise me that you’ll come in with me to see the doctor...”

Taking her friend’s hand in her own, Willow tried to comfort her. “Of course I will, Buffy. That’s why I’m going with you. I’ll protect you from the evil doctor. Kinda like a Prince Charming, but no so heavy on the Prince part of it...” Her brow creased in concentration as she pondered the whole Prince Charming applying to a young woman.

When they entered the doctor’s office, there were only two other students in the waiting room. One was a mousy looking girl with some sort of sore on her mouth and the other was a jock-type guy with his hand in a brace. Buffy sat down far away from both of them and started rooting through the magazines, seeing if she could find one that had been printed after she’d moved to Sunnydale. Settling on a Time magazine that was 4 months old, she sat back and tried to relax.

Willow sat down beside Buffy, taking the Reader’s Digest that was on top of the other magazines. She never could get enough of that Word Power page...

***

Buffy’s first instinct, when her name was called, was to run towards freedom. Before she could, though, she was caught in the firm grip of her best friend. No match for a Slayer, but more than enough of a match for a frightened young woman. Capitulating--she knew this was for her and the baby’s best interest--she allowed herself to be led to one of the examination rooms.

The small room had been painted mint green and had generic framed prints hung on its walls. In Buffy’s opinion, it was a poor attempt at giving it a homey atmosphere. All she could concentrate on were the torture implements strewn about the room. It didn’t matter that the blood pressure machine, or the small ear scope, or any of the other tools were harmless--to the Slayer, they all seemed like something Angelus would have used on her had she given him the chance.

When the door opened and the doctor walked in, Willow let out a breath of relief. Buffy’s paranoia was beginning to rub off on her. She’d never felt ill at ease in a doctor’s office until now. Her friend’s caginess, constant pacing and twitching were turning the redhead into a bag of nerves.

The doctor, a woman of East Indian descent, seemed to be in her late thirties. Her demeanour was friendly, yet professional. Looking at both girls, she broke the silence. “So, which one of you is Buffy?”

The Slayer cast a nervous glance at her friend before raising her hand. “That would be me. Buffy... is me...” Great, now you’re babbling. She’ll probably send me out for a psychiatric assessment.

The doctor smiled at the obviously nervous girl. “So, now that we’ve established without a doubt that you’re Buffy, how can I help you?”

“I think I’m pregnant.” She expected the doctor to gasp, or to chastise her, or at least drop her folder in surprise, but no such reaction came forth.

Instead, Dr. Mathews just nodded and wrote something down in the folder. “Ok, have you taken a test yet?”

This should have been embarrassing, talking about her pregnancy to a stranger, but the doctor’s calmness put Buffy at ease. “I did one of those at-home tests, and it came out positive. I bought the one with two testers in it and used them both.”

“And they both came out positive, right?”

“Yup.”

The doctor rose from her seat and walked over to a cupboard. She took out a new pregnancy test and handed it to the young blonde. “Do you think you’d be able to do the test again?”

Taking the test in her hand, Buffy nodded. “Sure. I, uh, kind of have to pee anyway. You know--nerves.”

“Well, there’s no reason to be nervous, Buffy. This is just a step in life, you’re just going through it earlier than most of your friends, that’s all. Now, when you go out the door, the bathroom is just at the end of the hallway on your left. When you’ve done the test, bring it back to this room and we’ll see what it has to tell us.”

After Buffy had left the room, Dr. Mathews turned to Willow. “It’s very good of you to come with her, you know. If she decides to go through with this, she’ll need all the support she can get.”

Willow smiled brightly at the doctor. “Oh, she’s already decided she wants to keep it. And Buffy’s got lots of friends who’ll be there to help her. She always takes care of us, so it’s no big taking care of her.”

The door opened at that moment, and Buffy walked in, test in hand. Smiling shyly, she handed it to the doctor. “Well, looks like three time’s lucky.”

After looking at the test’s result, Dr. Mathews disposed of it in a plastic container. “That was about as positive a result as we could get. So, Buffy, congratulations--you’re pregnant. Now I have a few questions for you--easy ones, don’t worry--before I send you over to the lab for your bloodwork.”

Forcing herself to ignore, for now, the bloodwork that was awaiting her, Buffy nodded. “Ask away. I’ll be answer girl.”

The doctor chuckled. This Buffy certainly was one of a kind. “Good. Now, do you remember what the date was for the first day of your last period?”

The young blonde pouted playfully. “I thought you said they were going to be easy questions.” Biting her lip, she closed her eyes, obviously in deep concentration. “Aha!” Her eyes shot open and she turned to Willow. “It was the day that we had that horrible French test! When was that?”

The redhead frowned. “Oh! It was April 18th. Because I thought it was Cordy’s birthday, but it’s April 20th and I’ve always got them mixed up.” She bounced in her seat, proud of her help in the matter.

The doctor walked over to a circular chart that hung on the door of one of the cabinets. “April 18h...” She turned the chart around until the arrow pointed to the right date. “And is your period regular? On a 28-day cycle?”

“Like clockwork.” Both girls laughed out loud, having answered the doctor in stereo.

“Well, then, that would bring your due date to January 23rd.” She turned away from the chart and took her seat. “Now, on to more serious matters. There’s a number of blood tests that have to be done, to check your blood type, check for sexually transmitted diseases, HIV...” She looked up at Buffy and saw that all colour had drained from her face. “Don’t worry, Buffy, they’re standard tests that every woman is requested to go through. Before I give you the lab form, though, I have a few questions I need to ask you.”

The blonde nodded silently, wondering what kind of questions the doctor would ask her. Smiling nervously, she asked “I won’t be graded on this, will I?”

“No, you don’t have to worry about that. They’re very straightforward questions and should be easy to answer. All I need you to do is to be completely honest with me. Now, do you smoke?”

“Ugh. A world of no.”

“Good. Do you drink?”

“Sometimes, when I go to the bronze, but I haven’t touched anything since I found out I was pregnant.”

“That’s a smart move. There are varying opinions on alcohol during pregnancy, but I still prefer to recommend abstinence. Do you take any drugs?”

Although she felt like laughing, Buffy knew that these questions were being seriously asked. Somewhere, out there, was a cocaine or a heroin addict who was pregnant. “No. Never.”

“Are you on any medications?”

“Well, in retrospect I could have profited from the pill... but no.” Feeling Willow’s hand on her own, the Slayer turned to her friend and smiled.

Dr. Mathews closed the folder and reached for a form on her desk and scribbled some notes on it. “Well, that’s enough of that for now. This is the requisition for bloodwork--just take it down to the technician who’s in the office. I’ll also recommend that you start taking a daily pre-natal pill if you haven’t yet begun to take some. They’ll give you an extra boost of all the vitamins and minerals that your body, and your baby, will need. I’ll also look into referring you to an obstetrician. Do you have a preference--do you prefer a woman, or does it matter?”

Glad to finally be free to stand, Buffy stretched. “Actually, I would prefer to see a woman if that’s ok.”

“Of course, many women feel more comfortable seeing a female OB. I believe that Doctor Russell is still accepting patients. I’ll get my assistant to give her office a call.” Standing up, the doctor offered her hand to both girls. “I’m glad you came to see me, Buffy. It shows a lot of maturity on your part. Carrying a child isn’t an easy task, although for some people, they say it’s the best time of their life. If you have any severe cramping, or spotting please come see me or one of my colleagues right away. If you’re really bleeding hard, or in severe pain, go to the hospital right away. Aside from that, minor cramps are normal--it’s just your uterus contracting to accommodate its new resident.”

As she and Willow left the doctor’s office, Buffy was lost in thought. She was glad to have heeded her best friend’s advice--although she hadn’t been given much of a choice, resolve face and all. Her mind was more at ease, and her body more relaxed now that she’d spoken to the doctor. She didn’t expect this to be a walk in the park, but she was no longer afraid of what lay ahead. Turning to the redhead, she enveloped her in a hug. “Thanks for everything, Will.”

“It’s no big, Buffy. It’s what friends are for. I’ll be there whenever you need help, even if it’s something gross like holding your hair while you’re throwing up your breakfast.” Her nose wrinkled at that last thought. “But for now, how about this best friend treats her own best friend to a nice big strawberry milkshake? Mmm... full of calcium for the baby, and full of strawberry goodness for mommy!”

Hooking her arm through Willow’s, Buffy squealed. “I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate, Wills!”

Buffy sat on the edge of the recliner, facing the two people who meant the most to her. Her hands were clammy, her stomach was doing flip-flops, and she was sure she might just be sick right there on the carpet. This wasn’t something she’d ever envisioned having to do, not until she was happily married, or at least still dating someone...

Neither Joyce Summers nor Rupert Giles knew why Buffy had asked to speak to them. They sat awkwardly on the couch, side by side, facing the young woman they both loved dearly. The fact that all colour had drained from her face, and that her hands were shaking, did nothing to ease their worry. They’d both seen her weather some frightening situations and never break a sweat. What could be so bad that she needed to speak to them together, as if they were both her parents, right away before she ‘totally wigged and chickened out’, as she’d told them?

Removing his glasses to wipe them, Giles broke the silence. “Well, Buffy... You, er, said that you had something to tell your mother and me. I have to admit that I’m more than a little worried, as is your mother, I’m sure.” He turned to Joyce for confirmation, relieved when she nodded.

Taking a deep breath--it was now or never--Buffy fidgeted. Should she pussy-foot around until they guessed? Should she just blurt it out run away to her room? No. She‘d always faced her problems head on, and now was no time to change. “Mom, Giles, I’m sure you’ve both noticed that some of my habits have been, well, peculiar recently.” She looked at both of them as they agreed that something had been amiss in her behaviour. “Well, there’s a reason for all these changes.” Fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, she cupped her face in her hands, trying to keep an even keel. “Oh God,” she said, sniffling and trying to even her breathing. “I have no idea how to tell you this. You’ve both had such high hopes for me, you’ve held me in high regards, and now... now I’m sitting here, having to tell you that I’m pregnant.”

“Oh, Buffy!”

“Good Lord!”

Joyce’s and Giles’ exclamations came at once. Joyce, however, was the first to speak. “Buffy, I thought you were more responsible than this. Didn’t you use any precautions?”

There was no holding the tears back anymore. Hurt by the disappointment on both of their faces, Buffy couldn’t return their gazes. Through sobs, she managed to reply. “You don’t understand, Mom, we did use protection--we never did... anything... without a condom. Not once--I was always strict on that. I don’t know how this happened, but it did and now I‘m pregnant.” Lifting her head, she gave them both a stern look. “And nothing anybody says will convince me not to keep it.” It was a warning of sorts--she really wasn’t up to the abortion speech. Not again, not after Riley...

“And Riley left. He left me, and he left the baby, when I told him. He... he’s in South America, somewhere. I feel so alone...” The thought of her ex-boyfriend, the father of her child, sent the young woman into a new wave of weeping. She was surprised to feel her Watcher’s strong arms surround her in consolation. This uncommonly open display of affection by the man she considered a father comforted the Slayer in ways she‘d never be able to express. Instead, she leaned into his tender caress and let all her pent-up emotions flow.

Leaving Buffy with her surrogate father, Joyce went to the kitchen to get her daughter a glass of water. She also used the task as an excuse to have a moment to herself. She was torn between feelings of disappointment and empathy. Why was Buffy having sex, if she wasn’t ready for the possible repercussions of what it could lead to? She knew she wasn’t ready for a baby, yet she took the risk anyway. The more she thought of it, though, the more it seemed like Buffy was ready for it--it was Joyce who wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to accept that her daughter was old enough to have sex, old enough to bear children. She also wasn’t ready to be a grandmother--she was only 43, after all!

Well, this was a defining moment in her relationship with Buffy. She could either walk in there and scold her, playing the part of the cruel, condescending bitch of a mother, or she could accept Buffy’s situation and offer to help her out in any way she could. Remembering her own situation, with her own mother--and the reasons for which they hadn’t spoken in over 15 years, Joyce knew that there was only one option.

When she returned to the living room, she saw that Buffy was sitting on the couch next to Mr. Giles. It was odd knowing that this man, this librarian, was as important in her daughter’s life than she was. Joyce knew that over the last few years he had become a father figure to her, and the label seemed to fit him well. He had managed to calm the young woman down, and actually had her smiling. Handing the glass to her daughter, she took a seat in the recliner, across from the two others.

“Buffy, I’m sorry if my words earlier were harsh, but this totally came out of the blue. You have to understand that as your mother, it’s hard for me to accept that you’re old enough to have relations with young men, and even to have children. I know you’re a responsible young woman, and I’m really, really proud of you. I’ll stand by you, no matter what you decide to do with the baby.”

This was turning out much, much better than Buffy had anticipated. Her mom had only had a minor cow, and Giles had been more supportive than she imagined. All those scenarios of being thrown out of the house, of being cast away and unwanted had been needless worries. All the result of an overactive imagination coupled with the absolute worst news any young woman could deliver to her parents.

Wiping away the remnants of her tears, she reached over and took her mom’s hands in her own. “Thanks. To both of you. I want to keep this baby. It’s... it’s a miracle, really, for a Slayer to be pregnant. I realize it’s totally off the charts, but I really want to give this my best.” Turning to Giles, she gave him a tight grin. “I don’t know what this means with my patrolling, I mean I’m probably ok for now, but eventually...”

“No.” Giles’ voice cut her off. “As of this minute, I can’t allow you to put yourself, or your child, in danger. We’ll find a way of patrolling for you, even if...” His mouth pursed. “Even if we have to convince Spike to do it.”

“Spike?! Are you insane?”

“Buffy, he’s the only one who’s strong enough to replace you. The others and myself, we may have our hearts in the right place, but we saw a few summers ago how of little use we are when it comes to the actual physical aspects of your calling. I’m sure he can be convinced to assist us.”

“Honey, Spike’s not that bad once you get to know him.” Joyce felt like she had to speak up, to defend her hot cocoa buddy.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. What do you mean he’s not that bad once you get to know him? How well do you know Spike, Mom?”

“First of all, don’t use that tone on me. Just because you’re going to be a mother yourself doesn’t mean that I stop being yours. Second of all, this is my house and I can invite whoever I want for a cup of cocoa. Especially someone who can listen as well as Spike can, or who enjoys Passions as much as he does.”

By now, Buffy was laughing. “Wait--no, this is too good. William the Bloody watches soaps? That’s too much! Giles, we’ll get him to work for us--all we have to do is threaten to put a notice up at Willy’s about this!”

Joyce was shocked that her daughter would stoop so low, not realizing that Spike would do the exact same thing had he the opportunity. “Buffy, no!”

Giles sighed. “Your mother’s right, Buffy. It wouldn’t be fair to her to use this knowledge against Spike. As strange as their, er, friendship is, we can‘t use it to our advantage. We’ll just have to convince him to work for us some other way.”

Buffy leaned back into the couch. “Yeah, either it’ll cost us too much money, or he’ll be expecting us to provide him with victims or something. I’m sure there’s a better way of doing this.”

“Well, I could talk to him about it next time he comes over for a visit...” Joyce knew this wouldn’t be a popular idea with Buffy, but perhaps Mr. Giles would recognize the leverage she could have with Spike. Although he’d never said it outright, the vampire respected her. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t convene at her home so often to ‘shoot the shit’, as he put it. Maybe she could use their friendship to convince the young man--well, not so young, really--to help them out.

The Slayer shot straight up out of her seat. “No, no, no--with a side order of no! Mom, you are not asking Spike to help me... help us. He’s a vampire. He’s evil, he’ll use this to his advantage and do something bad. No, we can’t trust him.” She sat back down, arms crossed in a ‘this conversation’s over’ gesture.

Joyce, however, was far from done. She couldn’t understand her daughter’s reluctance to see any good in the blonde vampire. “I’m sorry to pull out dirty laundry, Buffy, but Angel needed to be cursed with a soul in order not to be a danger to others. Spike has no such impediment, yet he doesn’t try to kill me. Why is that? Is his friendship with me part of some nefarious plan to kill us all?”

“Mom, that’s so not fair! Angel...”

“Yes it is fair, Buffy.” Giles couldn’t believe he was going to defend Spike, but they had no choice. They needed the arrogant vampire’s help, and Joyce was the only one who could get him to agree. Hell, maybe she could even get him to do it for free... “We need Spike--whether or not you’re willing to admit it, he’s the only individual who can match your prowess at slaying. It might take some convincing, but we have to at least try. If his friendship with your mother...”

“Please, call me Joyce.” It made her feel so old, being referred to as simply the ‘mother’, especially by someone of her own age. Someone well educated, well spoken and , yes, good-looking...

“Er, yes, of course. If his friendship with Joyce is any indication, Spike is the first vampire we’ve come across who seems to have the ability to control his demon. Perhaps we can use this to our advantage. Your moth... Joyce’s idea is the best option we have. If she can’t convince him, none of us will be able to--not with threats, not with stakes, not with violence. As strange as this sounds, cajoling may just be our best option.”

Buffy realized that her battle was lost. It would do her no good to expend any energy against her mother and Giles once they had their mind set on something. “Fine. But when he laughs in your face or if he asks for some ridiculous payment... I’ll say it now: I told you so.” With a huff, she left the house, slamming the door behind her.

“Oh dear. She’ll be truly unmanageable once her hormones kick in, won’t she?” The thought alone of a moodier Slayer frightened her watcher.

“You better believe it, Mr. Giles. She’ll be one heckuva handful.” Joyce turned to the man who remained seated on her couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

“A scotch, if you have any. And please...” Giles turned to Mrs. Summers--Joyce--and smiled. “...call me Rupert.”

He’d spent the better part of the evening poring through his books, but Giles couldn’t come up with a supernatural origin to Buffy’s child. As far as he could tell, this baby was 100% witchcraft and prophecy free. He slammed the last book closed and let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Buffy as a mother. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. If it wasn’t for the Slayer aspect of her life, he would allow himself to sit back and watch her trudge through having and raising this child--offering her fatherly support, of course. But he’d still feel a secret glee at seeing her go through at least one-tenth of the stress that she had put him through since he’d been assigned as her Watcher.

But Buffy was a Slayer. Slayers weren’t meant to have children--they were destined to live short, dangerous lives. She was unique, of course, in having the support of her mother and friends--but that didn’t eliminate altogether the danger she faced in her calling. This was to be the biggest challenge ever for her--and for all those who cared about her. He knew that sooner or later, the child would become the ward of one of those who were close to her--there was no denying the fact that she wouldn‘t live to see her child graduate from preschool. They could cover her patrols during her pregnancy, but they couldn’t do it forever. Spike, if Joyce managed to convince him to help, would probably bow out after the child’s birth. Hell, they probably couldn’t afford to have him help much longer than that.

He hadn’t wanted to say it in front of Buffy, but things would have been much easier for everyone if Riley had stuck around. Although not as strong as the Slayer or Spike, he’d always been able to hold his own while on patrol. Pair him up with any of the Scoobies (well, maybe except for Xander...) and Buffy’s job would be completed to the best of their capabilities. But the pillock hadn’t stayed. The watcher’s hand tightened around the tumbler of scotch as he thought of his surrogate daughter’s pain over the separation. Whatever part of Ripper remained within him wanted to meet the young man just one last time...

His line of thought changed tracks, leading to one bleach blonde master vampire. Spike. William the Bloody. Now there was a name he’d read often enough in his studies at the Council. He and the others in the line of Aurelius had not only entire books devoted to them, but entire shelves of books. But Spike was different from the others in the sense that he seemed to have retained a spark of humanity. His cruelty and penchant for mayhem were renowned, but so was his devotion to Drusilla.

The Scoobies’ first insight into Spike’s uniqueness was in his offer to help Buffy fight Angelus in his plans to wake Acathla. What was it that Buffy said he’d mentioned? Something about liking this world, about ‘happy meals on legs’--whatever that meant. Of course, he’d had selfish reasons for not wanting the world to end, but hadn’t they all? Someone says ‘I’m going to destroy the world’, what’s the first thing you think of? Your neighbour’s aunt in Leeds? No--you think about your loved ones, your favourite restaurant, your favourite football team... He showed them that he was no different than them in that regard. And, true to his word, he followed through with the plan, hightailing it with Drusilla in tow when all was done.

Then he’d returned to Sunnydale the following year, kidnapping Willow and Xander. They all got to see Spike’s evil side that time--except when he was blubbering about losing his ‘dark princess’... A lovesick vampire. Willow said he’d cried on her shoulder, heartbroken. He’d even leaned into the awkward pats she’d given him on the shoulder.

But the kicker had been when he’d returned earlier this year, once again bereft of Drusilla. He’d started out with some lame story about almost being kidnapped by the army, but no one believed the tall tale. Why would the army bother with collecting demons anyway? And for some cosmically unexplainable reason, he’d remained in Sunnydale ever since, taking residency in a mausoleum in one of the town’s many cemeteries. They’d been able to find no clues to his involvement in anything more evil than kitten poker--although, in Buffy and Willow’s opinions, that rated almost as high as plotting to end the world.

So William the Bloody now lived on the Hellmouth, apparently posing them no more threat than any other vamp. Actually, maybe even less than the average vampire since he really seemed to be minding his own business, never being caught with his teeth in some poor unsuspecting victim’s throat. Of course, Giles realized, a master vampire would be smart enough not to get caught in the act.

But why the sudden change in personality? They’d all been reluctant to believe him when he said he just wanted to be left alone--that if they wouldn’t bother him, he wouldn’t give them a reason to. Was the former scourge of Europe (or one of them, rather) retiring to greener pastures, to spend the rest of his unlife in relative peace? Maybe play a few rounds of bocce ball with other ancient vampires? Not bloody likely, but Giles couldn’t for the life of him figure any of it out. There had to be a reason for the sudden change...

The Watcher groaned and poured himself another finger (or two--he wasn’t really measuring anymore) of scotch. The thing that disturbed him the most, that set him most on edge, was the fact that no part of him--not even the gut feeling that was always right--railed against Spike as a substitute Slayer. As loathe as he was to admit it, it seemed right.

Just to keep options open, however--always had to have options, alternate plans if you wanted anything to go right--he tried to think of anyone else who could replace Buffy. He cringed as the only person he could come up with was Faith.

Oh dear. The baby would be in more danger with Faith than Spike. With the hatred she had for Buffy, she’d probably sell the kid to the first bidder. Heck, she’d probably hand it over to the first fledgeling she’d set eyes on. Not trustworthy, that one. Anyway, Giles remembered that she was in jail--or so he’d heard.

At least Spike was friends with the baby’s grandmother. If his affection for Joyce was any indication, he’d never lay a hand on the child. And God only knew why they were friends.

Maybe because she’s an intelligent, good-looking woman, Rupert. Something you haven’t let yourself think about since Olivia. Someone who knows exactly what’s going on, who wouldn’t think it strange to find your library full of ancient texts and witchcraft how-to books. A woman who wouldn’t get jealous of an entourage of young women who look up to you like a father.

Giles emptied the Johnny Walker from his glass in one swallow. Since when did he go by Council code, anyway?

“Damn it, Joyce! Get a handle on it or he’ll know something’s off the minute he walks in through that door.” Joyce Summers wiped the spilled milk off the counter, trying to get a hold on herself. Tonight was the night that she was going to bring up the subject of substitute patrolling to Spike, and it was wracking her nerves.

She had no idea how to broach the subject. Would she slip it in between talking about the new artwork she received at the gallery and what was going on in Passions? Maybe she’d just blurt it out after he’d tell her about his latest win at poker. She could see it now. “Good for you--you haven’t won that many Persians in weeks, Spike. Oh, by the way Buffy’s pregnant and we need you to patrol for her--so what do you say?” Ugh. Every scenario she rolled through her mind sounded as banal as the last one. Maybe she shouldn’t have volunteered for this, anyway...

“Deep thoughts, Joyce?”

The eldest Summers woman jumped up, spilling the milk once again. She couldn’t, however, stop the smirk from coming to her lips. “You know, Spike--I’ve asked you not to do that. My heart can’t take being scared over and over again.”

Closing the door behind him, the blonde vamp smiled back. “Actually, I knocked a few times but you didn’t answer. I figured maybe you were downstairs or something.” Catching the slight tremble of her hands, his eyebrow went up. “Something wrong? You seem to be on pins and needles tonight.”

Joyce chuckled nervously. “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” Maybe the best course of action would be to just go ahead and ask.

Putting the pan of cocoa on the burner, she turned to see that Spike had already set their mugs and spoons on the table and had taken a seat. If anyone would have ever told her, even a year ago, that a vampire would be so at home in the Summers household that he‘d know where to find dishes and flatware, she would have had them committed. “Actually, there is something I’ve been asked to bring up.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “’Been asked’, huh? This wouldn’t have anything to do with the Slayer and her Watcher, would it?” Great, now they had one of his only real friends in on their shenanigans.

Taking a seat across from him, Joyce’s face was serious. “Well, yes and no. It does have something to do with Buffy, but speaking to you was my idea.” Her finger danced around the mug’s rim as she tried to sort her thoughts. “I need to ask you a favour, Spike. I don’t want to pressure you--you can say no, but I just need to ask because you’re the only person who can really help.”

Ok, now his curiosity was really piqued. “Ok, Joyce. I’ll listen.”

“Buffy’s pregnant.” There--that much was out of the bag. Joyce waited until Spike stopped choking before continuing. “Yeah, I know. That was pretty much my reaction too.” She smiled, adding: “Except there may have been a bit more yelling involved.”

On a list of a hundred possible things the vampire expected Joyce to say, ‘Buffy’s pregnant’ would probably have ranked, oh, one thousandth. It was a good thing that the cocoa wasn’t ready yet, because he was sure he would have sprayed it all over the table, and all over the woman sitting across from him. “So what about Finn? What does Captain Cardboard have to say about all this? It is his, I assume...”

Joyce had expected laughter, sarcasm, maybe even glee at her daughter’s predicament. But she never thought she’d hear the most rational first question--the one neither she nor Rupert had thought to ask. “Riley’s in South America. He and Buffy didn’t exactly see eye to eye on the subject.” She didn’t want to go into any more detail, as the specifics of the couple’s argument weren’t any of his business.

“Bloody hell! A bloke doesn’t just get a girl pregnant and then bail out! Slayer or not, that’s downright caddish. Hope she broke the blighter’s nose, at least.” So, the righteous Whitebread wasn’t so righteous after all. It should have made Spike happier than anything to find out that the Slayer and Finn’s lovey-dovey relationship was over, but truth be told it didn’t. Maybe it was because of his own failed relationship, or maybe it was because of the baby, but he actually felt empathy towards her. Good God, he needed to go out and kill things more often--he was beginning to be a right ponce.

“No, she didn’t break anything. Although she did threaten him very imaginatively.” Joyce got up take the cocoa off the stove and to pour it into the two mugs. Her hands were no longer shaking, and she felt rather comfortable speaking to the vampire. He’d taken the news with about the same range of emotions than everyone else: shock, concern, anger... Hopefully support would be the next. Placing the vampire’s mug in front of him, she sat back down. “The reason I’m telling you this--the favour that we need...”

“I’ll do it.”

Joyce’s mug stopped halfway to her lips. “But... how...”

Spike might not have been the smartest vamp out there, but he wasn’t daft, either. “’S obvious, innit? There’s no way that you or ol’ Rupes will let the Slayer go out and fight--not in her condition, anyway. So you need someone to cover her patrols. I’m the only one who’s as strong as she is, so it only makes sense that you ask me.” He took a small sip of the steaming chocolatey concoction before continuing. “I’ll take over the Slayer’s patrols until after the bit’s born. I’ve been needing something to do, anyway. Poker’s nice and all, but I’m gonna get all soft if I don’t get in some regular exercise.”

Joyce had to fight the urge to get up and give the vampire a hug. “Thank you, Spike. You don’t know how much this means to me--to all of us.”

“S’all right. Just keep in mind, though--the only reason I’m accepting this is because you asked me. You’re the only one of the whole lot of’em who’s ever treated me right--with respect. ‘Cept maybe Red, but she‘s still kind of nervous around me...”

“Well, that’ll happen to nice, quiet girls when someone kidnaps them and threatens them with broken bottles.” She sent the vamp her best ‘disapproving mother’ look.

The vampire had the sense to look abashed. “Yeah, well... Not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, was it? And Red’s the nicest one of the bunch.” He took another sip and then frowned. “What does the Slayer think of all this? Of me patrolling for her? Betcha she‘s got her knickers in a knot over it.”

Joyce shook her head and sank further into her chair. “That’s putting it mildly, I’d say. I think Rupert and I got a couple of ‘over my dead body’s and even more ‘he’s evil, Mom, he’ll kill us all’s. It might have been funny, if the circumstances were different.”

Spike shook his head in disbelief. He’d been on the straight and narrow ever since he’d returned to Sunnydale. He hadn’t hatched any devious plans--hadn’t taken part in any, either, he hadn’t bothered anyone, aside from the Slayer of course, and--not that he’d ever tell anyone--he’d been drinking bagged blood for the past few months. He was sure it was some of Dru’s hocus-pocus. He found excuses not to kill every potential victim he’d come across. A middle-aged man--must have kids to provide for; a young girl--she’s just starting her life; an old couple--well, that’s just not fair, now is it? If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was developing a conscience, as hard to digest as the idea was to him. “Figures she’d say that. Wonder what she’d be saying if I was actually causing a ruckus instead of mindin’ my own business?”

“That doesn’t really matter, does it? Rupert’s already put his foot down and told Buffy that she has no say in it. She’s not happy with it, but I think she’s resigned to sulking.” After a long, uncomfortable silence, Joyce decided that that was enough serious talk for the evening. Their cocoa evenings were meant as a nice distraction to a blah life.

“So, how’d your poker go last night?”

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