“Hey there, sweetie. Haven’t seen you here before...”

Oh great, just my luck... The young woman turned around to see who was addressing her.

Ugh--a Billy Ray Cyrus wanna-be. Where did these guys come from? Did they just hatch them here in Sunnydale? Ever since she’d moved to this town she’d seen the weirdest people. Seventies’ throw-backs, punks, rocker chicks... Most of Sunnydale’s population seemed normal enough but the percentage of freaks was pretty high. Maybe it was a West Coast thing, like Seattle...

She squirmed, trying to avoid the weirdo’s grasp. “Uh, I really have to get going. I’ve...got someone waiting for me.” Yeah, that’s good! She stepped to the side to go around him, only to have the lug match her move. It was like a demented folk dance.

“Ah, come on. Whoever he is, I’m sure he can wait a while... Why don’t we go somewhere more... private?”

His smile came across as almost a sneer, making the young woman even more nervous. She’d never been good at confrontation. She was mousy, quiet--she didn’t know the first thing about defending herself. Perhaps she should just knee him in the groin, or just turn around and run. Or maybe both. Either way, she knew she wouldn’t be able to go ahead with it--so she remained rooted on the spot, too scared to do anything but hyperventilate. “Look, I really don’t want to. May--maybe you can find someone else? There are lots of other girls around...” Pleading. Yeah, that was good. She was good at that...

“Nah, I kinda have my sights set on you. You’re real pretty, you know that?” He reached out and took a strand of the girl’s hair between his grubby fingers, licking his bottom lip.

The girl whimpered, then jumped at the sound of someone else’s voice. The thin blonde man who was now standing beside her looked more dangerous than her own assailant, but the vibes he gave off were more comforting than she’d have imagined. Long leather coat, cigarette dangling from his lower lip, attitude coming off him in waves--to anyone else he would have screamed ‘danger’, but to this young woman he was salvation.

“Look, mate, seems she’s not interested. Why don’t you let the bird go, eh?” Spike had been watching the two, noticing the girl’s body language. She sure as hell didn’t want to be anywhere near the wanker and he didn’t seem to be taking no for an answer. But the girl was too meek to do anything about it. Never last long on the Hellmouth, this one. Pity--she looks like a nice enough chit.

He figured he might as well come to her rescue, like the ponce he was turning out to be. First he agrees to help the Slayer and now he’s saving shy girls from poorly-dressed creeps. Ooh, what’s next? Volunteering at the local YMCA?

Billy Ray turned to the bleached blonde with a sneer. “Lookie, buddy--me and the little lady here are just having us a nice talk. Why don’t you piss off?” Ignoring the Brit, he renewed his efforts with the young woman. “Right honey?”

Spike stepped behind the girl and looked at the creep. His eyes turned amber and he flashed the guy a bit of fang. “Don’t fancy on ‘pissing off’ right now, mate. Why don’t you just scamper and leave the girl alone, eh?”

The young woman was relieved to see the jerk run away; watching him fall back on his ass in the process was an added bonus. She let her shoulders drop a bit before turning around to her ‘saviour’. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

The vampire, back to his human guise, shrugged. “It’s nothing, really. Sometimes the power of suggestion is all it takes. You ok?” He cocked his head, making sure that she wasn’t injured in any way.

“Aside from being scared beyond belief?” She smiled at him shyly. “I’m fine. He... he didn’t have time to do anything besides creep me out.”

Nodding, the bleach blonde turned to leave. “Be careful, luv. There are lots of things in Sunnydale worse than country star wannabes. Just make sure you travel with a friend next time.” With that, he walked away, duster swirling behind him.

Shaking her head, smile on her lips, the girl sighed. “Great. Now vampires are warning me about what goes bump in the night. This town just keeps getting weirder and weirder...”

***

“And the drinkmeister delivers...” Xander placed a number of drinks on the table, concentrating very hard on not spilling any of them. Putting on a really bad French accent, he began to distribute the beverages. “A Shirley Temple for you, mademoiselle,” he said, presenting Willow with a tall glass with an umbrella in it; he put a glass in front of his girlfriend: “a Coke for you, madame.” Anya frowned at the non-alcoholic beverage set in front of her. Over a thousand years old, and all she could get was a lousy cola. If it wasn‘t for sex and money, being human would royally suck.

“And, for maman, a nice glass of tomato juice” Xander eyed the glass warily before adding “sorry, but it‘s the only remotely healthy stuff they had. They almost gave you Clamato.” Making a face, the young man added “who wants to drink clam juice anyway?“

Buffy snatched the drink out of his hand. It was bad enough being reduced to ordering juice at the Bronze without having Xander’s demented sense of observation to make it all worse. “Thanks, Xander. I could do without the sick mental image, though. And I thought you failed French?”

The young man hunched his shoulders. “I did, but I guess some of it must’ve stuck. Maybe I channelled Willow for a chapter.”

As he set his own drink in front of him, the brunette grinned widely. “And for me, a nice, tall beer...”

Three sets of eyes shot up at him.

Anya slammed her Coke down on the table. “Xander Harris! How did you get alcohol? I want to know right now, because I want you to get me one too! I’m way older than you. If anyone gets to drink, it should be me!”

“Ahn, I can’t do that. One of the guys from work was at the bar and he bought it for me. I couldn’t really say ‘hey, thanks--can you order a few others for my friends, who are also underage?’” He couldn’t believe his girlfriend sometimes. She had to be the most illogical...

“Well, you could have tried. Maybe I’d be sitting here with a...” She peered at the label on his beer, frowning. “...Michelob. Yes. I could have a Michelob too if you weren’t too...”

“Guys!!”

The bickering couple jumped at the sharp sound of Buffy’s voice. “That’s enough. What, are you trying to test my parenting skills already? Sheesh! Anya--someone legal bought Xander’s beer, that’s why he can’t get you one, and Xander--give her a sip for quiet’s sake.” Taking a sip of her juice, she made a face. “It could be worse, Anya--you could be stuck drinking warm tomato juice. Yech.”

As an uncomfortable silence sullied the friends’ good humour, Willow stood up. “Well, I’m just gonna visit the little witches’ room. I’ll be right back.”

Watching the redhead’s retreating figure, Anya chose to have the last words. “Look what you did, Xander--you made your best friend uncomfortable. If you would have only bought me a beer, she’d still be sitting here with us, happy as always. But...”

***

As Willow made her way back from the washroom, a flash of dark blonde hair caught her eye.

“Tara?”

When the other girl turned around, obviously relieved to see someone familiar, the redhead grinned widely. Never in a million years would she have imagined the shy girl from her Wicca group would really have shown up. Although she said she’d meet her at the club, the dark blonde wasn’t exactly the gregarious ‘loud music and grinding bodies give me a happy’ kind of person.

“Wow! I never thought I’d really see you here!” Her eyes grew, as her mind imagined a blatant faux pas in her greeting. “Oh, not that I think you lie, or that you’re not a fun person, or... or that you don’t like music... What I meant was...” Breathe, WIllow--don’t faint on the cute girl. Whoa!! Cute *girl*?! Where did that come from?

Tara was relieved to have Willow find her. She was funny and outgoing , and not afraid to voice her opinion. She was a refreshing person to be around and, yeah, she was pretty cute, with the short red hair, the sparkling green eyes and the adorable fuzzy outfits. But the blonde was sure that the other woman didn’t ’swing’ that way, as she’d mentioned an ex-boyfriend, so she kept her observations to herself.

Smiling warmly, Tara laid her hand on the babbling redhead’s forearm. Instantly, both girls felt a surge of energy rush through them at the powerful albeit brief contact. Whatever she was about to say escaped her, leaving her mouth ajar and her breath flushed. “So..sorry.. I don’t know what... That’s never happened before.” She removed her hand, immediately regretting the loss of whatever it was that had passed between them.

Willow’s mouth was agape--she just didn’t know what to say. Whatever had passed between the two witches had left her... wanting? The urge to pull the blonde against her, to press her full lips to her own was strong. Eep! Weird thoughts! As she was trying to gather her wits, instead of staring at the other woman slack-jawed, the redhead noticed a shock of bleach blonde hair pass by.

“Spike!”

Tara’s brow creased. “Spike?” What did that mean? Was that a term for what had passed between them? Didn’t really feel like something that should be called ‘spike’. Maybe ‘flutter’ or ‘swoon’ or maybe something else not so ‘Louis Lamour‘, but definitely not ‘spike’... Shaking out of her reverie, she noticed Willow waving someone over. Ah, the blonde vamp who had saved her. Now he looked like a Spike. Must be his name, then, she thought to herself. Very fitting...

“Evenin’, Red.” The blonde seemed to prowl towards them, sleek and powerful as the predator he was. He noticed Tara and a smirk touched his lips. “’Ello, pet. I see you’ve found your friend.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly. Well, well. Woulda never seen Red playin’ for the other team... He could sense the energy flowing between the two witches as they stood uncomfortably side by side. If nothing had happened yet--they seemed too awkward, too unsure of themselves--he knew something would happen soon. “So, you girls having a nice time?”

Willow’s curiosity was piqued. “Wait a minute, Spike. How do you know Tara?”

Spike’s eyes darted quickly to the blonde before his answer. “I just helped her out with a problem. A very poorly dressed, wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer kind of a problem.”

“Oh, you didn’t... hurt him, did you?” Buffy would be so pissed if she found out that Spike was back to killing people, even if it was to save a girl from a really gross come-on. And she was beginning to like Spike, even with his coarse language and his harsh attitude. His heart seemed to be in the right place and that’s what counted, wasn’t it? Maybe he was like that old silverware that you just needed to polish a bit to make it shine again...

The redhead and the vampire were both shocked to hear Tara answer for him. “No, Willow. There wasn’t any... blood shed.” She said it quietly, leaning in so they could hear it over the din of the music. She knew she’d given away a secret, that she’d sensed what Spike was, but she didn’t want him to be accused of something he didn’t do. “He just scared the guy off, no harm done.” She smiled, laughing a bit. “Well, maybe he bruised his ego when he fell on his rear end trying to run away...”

“Just a minute there, how did you know that I’m a demon? You didn’t see me scare the pillock--I was right behind you.” There was definitely more to this girl than met the eye, that was for sure. She seemed to be a shy, quiet bird but with her back to a wall, Spike imagined that she must be as dangerous as the Slayer herself. ‘S always the quiet ones, innit?...

“I... I can see your aura. I can see that you’re animated, but not really alive. Except that there’s something extra. I haven’t quite figured out what it is, though. But it definitely sets you apart from any other vampire I’ve seen.” The witch scrunched her face in concentration, biting her lower lip in a way that made Willow’s heart beat faster, but gave up with a shake of your head. “You don’t have a soul, do you?”

“Bloody hell! Not on my unlife!” A soul?! Yeah, as if he’d ever end up as pathetic as the Great Gelled one. “Don’t rightly know what else you ‘see’, but I can assure you I’m soulless and lovin’ it.”

They stood there in silence, not knowing what to say to each other until Willow finally piped up. Speaking to both blondes, she offered an invitation. “Why don’t you join me? The gang’s just over there--we’re doing a bit of celebrating tonight. It’s a multi-event party: school’s out, Xander just got a good job, and Buffy’s expecting. We might not be the zaniest group here, but the more the merrier!” She ended with a large grin, hoping to make the sale.

Tara was more than happy to join them. Because of her shyness, she’d never really fit in with any groups. Heck, she’d never really even had any close friends. Smiling at Willow, she didn’t even try to hide her excitement. “I... I’d love to. If that’s ok with everyone. I really wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Goddess, no. Everyone’ll be more than happy to meet you. I’ve...” The redhead ducked her head and blushed. “I’ve kind of talked about you, a little, and they’re curious to meet you.” This was so weird. She felt like she was going to introduce a potential boyfriend to the Scoobies--except Tara was far from a boy, with her curves and her soft lips, and... Narrowing her eyes, she looked at Spike, who was grinning like someone who was in on her secret. He can’t know, can he? What kind of special powers do vamps have--they can’t tell sexual inclinations, can they? No, more than likely it’s 120 years of existence...

If those two witches didn’t get together soon, they’d implode. Spike watched them glance at each other under their lashes when they thought the other wasn’t looking. Furtive, shy glances with much promise. He caught Willow looking at him, something running through that cute head of hers, but he didn’t try to hide his awareness of the situation. Smirking at the redhead, he virtually dared her to ask him what he was thinking. When she failed to speak up, he shook his head.

“Guess I’ll be leavin’ you two birds to your little get-together, then. The night’s still young--there are lots of pups to beat at pool, lots of dosh to be made.” He nodded at them and turned to leave.

Good Goddess that vampire was thick! “Spike, wait!” When the bleached vamp stopped, Willow frowned at him. “The invitation was for you too, you know. We’re having a Scooby get together, and I... I think you should join us. If you want to, that is.” The young witch wasn’t sure how he’d react to the invitation. She had purposely failed to say that he was part of the Scoobies--she knew right off the bat that he’d scoff and flat out refuse. But the surprise in his eyes betrayed any mean things she’d expected him to say.

He wanted to refuse, really he did. What business did he have hanging out with a bunch of people who didn’t give a rat’s ass for him? So what if he went out every night and fought his own kind (and other demons, too)--they never thanked him, never let it be known that he was appreciated. Quite the contrary, actually--he still found himself the object of their derision. Until now, he supposed. Red’s invite surprised him, flattered him even--he would never have expected anything other than the status quo. Tossing a glance back at the pool tables--the players didn’t look as wet behind the ears as he’d have wished, anyway--he decided to accept. “Guess I can pull myself away from the tables for a while. Got myself enough money for beer and blo... poker for the week, anyway.”

Willow squealed and clapped her hands. “Great! Come on, let’s go see what they’re doing!”

“Anya, for the hundredth time, I can’t go get you a beer! I’ve given you at least half of mine, for crying out loud, and if that isn’t good enough...”

Willow could hear them bickering before she reached the table. “Good grief, are they still going on about that? If only Anya would get a beer, we’d all get a moment of peace.”

Spike figured that since he was the only one who’d be able to buy alcohol in the whole group, he’d be the only one able to shut the ex-demon up. Bad enough that he’d be stuck with the whelp and the Slayer--might turn to dust from their stares alone--but Anya’s whinging was relentless and irritating as hell. “Look, I’m going to get myself something to drink--might as well get a round for you lot while I’m at it. You two birds want something?” Before either of them could respond, he pointed a finger in their faces. “But don’t think this’ll be some kind of habit or whatnot. I’m not part of you lot, don’t want to be, but I might as well act the gentleman when I’m invited.”

Fighting back the urge to slap him on the back and say ‘ah, shucks’, Willow simply grinned at him. Which, from the look of despair on his face, was just as bad. “No, no beer for me--I’m on a solid Shirley Temple diet. Just pick up a beer for Xander and Anya and you’ll be fine. And Tara...” She turned to the other witch. “You want anything?”

The blonde blushed. “Oh, no, I don’t want to...”

Spike groaned. “Look, Glinda--you’re not takin’ advantage. You want me to get you something to drink? Might as well take me on my offer, seein’ as it happens once in a blue moon.”

“Oh.. ok, then. I’ll have... a cooler!” She nodded, proud of herself. She’d never had alcohol before, but her life was taking a turn for the better. Why not celebrate with a little drink?

The vampire raised an eyebrow at the witch‘s proud smile. He couldn‘t help but smile himself. “Any particular kind?”

“Uh, I’ve never... Are there lots of kinds? How about you choose? I’m sure I’ll be ok with anything you get me.”

The vampire shook his head, leaving the two girls behind. Bloody wanker, he was turning out to be. Who would’ve guessed he’d lower himself to buying drinks for the Scoobies?

***

Maybe it was because he’d brought beer, maybe it was because he’d been patrolling for the Slayer, or maybe it was just because Willow had told them to be nice to him. Either way, the Scoobies had been far more civil towards the bleached vampire than they’d ever been. As much as he hated himself for it, Spike appreciated not being the despised outcast for once.

Anya, of course, had jumped for joy at the sight of her very own beer--she’d ranted for ten minutes before Spike had threatened to take it away from her if she didn’t shut up. Xander had grudgingly accepted his own beer, which was something on tap--Guinness, actually. Spike had decided it was about time the whelp had a taste of real beer. Although he‘d initially made some sly comments about drinking molasses, he‘d quickly shut up and seemed quite happy with the headier brew. And Tara had decided to share her cooler with Willow. She’d felt the alcohol go to her brain after half the bottle, and figured that getting drunk in front of a new group of people wasn’t the impression she wanted to leave them with.

The only person who hadn’t said a word to him had been the Slayer herself. However, he wasn’t sure if it was because of animosity or just because she looked like she was going to fall asleep at any moment. Her eyes had drifted shut a few times and she was visibly fighting fatigue.

While he was busy observing his nemesis (ex-nemesis? They weren’t really trying to kill each other anymore, were they?), the vampire hadn’t noticed that the others had gotten up off their seats.

Willow put her hand on the Slayer‘s shoulder. “Come on, Buffy--maybe a bit of dancing will wake you up a bit!” Her hand was holding Tara’s, and both girls seemed to have a case of the giggles. One cooler had managed to give both girls a good, heady, buzz.

“Sorry, guys. I’m not really up to a lot of dancing tonight. You guys go ahead without me--I’ll just sit here and finish my tomato juice.” She looked at her glass with undisguised loathing before finishing it in one gulp. Grimacing, she tried to smile. “See? Everything’s hunky dorey.”

Not quite convinced, but willing to give her friend some space, Willow and Tara looked expectantly at the blonde vamp. “Spike?”

“Not on my unlife, witches. There’s no way you’re having me out on that dance floor, with that bloody racket playing. Now, maybe if sectioned off an area for a mosh pit and played some decent music I might be tempted to go.”

Both blondes watched the two witches join the others on the dance floor, ready to shake their booty to the deafening beat of the music. Buffy missed being able to dance off her tension, but the last thing she felt like doing right now was expending a ton of energy. It was taking all she had not to push Spike off that couch and take a nap on it. She looked across at the vampire and sighed. As long as he kept his mouth shut, they’d be ok.

Spike sat forward, legs splayed and beer resting in between them. He couldn’t keep out the obvious glee in his voice when he addressed her for the first time. “So, Slayer, all that time you spent with Captain Cardboard, all that time you thrust him in my face, telling me how good he was, how noble he was,” he put on an effeminate voice, “oh, Riley is such a good person, not like you, Spike. You’re an evil monster, but my Riley is as pure as the undriven snow...” He shook his head, snickering. “All that time, it was a lie. The good ol’ farmboy was no better than your average wanker, tucking tail and running when the idyllic relationship became tainted. So who‘s the monster eh, luv? The one who‘s helping you out, or the one who left you high and dry?”

When his eyes lifted to meet hers, he felt a tug at the expression that crossed the Slayer’s features. He immediately regretted his words, feeling... guilt?... at the pain he’d caused her. But he felt no guilt at airing his feelings about Whitebread. He’d been upstaged so many times by that pillock that it felt great to be able to have the tables turned for once.

So much for silence from the bleached wonder. Buffy was hurt by the vamp‘s outburst. Her emotions were still too raw for her not to fight back--she never even stopped to consider the reasons for which she was defending the man who had abandoned her. “Oh please, like you’ve spent such a ‘bloody’ gallant life yourself. I wouldn’t judge others if I were you, you know, William the Bloody..” She forced out a laugh that was devoid of any mirth. “It’s laughable, you know--someone who’s spent over a hundred years torturing people is now placing himself on a pedestal because of something some human did...”

The vampire’s eyes flashed gold for a brief moment, guilt forgotten. “Yeah, Slayer--you’re right. I’ve done some nasty things in my time. Things that your simple mind couldn’t even begin to imagine. But the one thing I’ve never done is leave the woman I love because she’s become an inconvenience.” He smiled when the young woman flinched at the intentional jab. “One hundred and twenty years I spent with one of the barmiest birds around. Dru was never all there--you can thank Angelus and his twisted mind for that. But after Prague, when she became sick, it was decades upon decades of putting up with weeks of wailing, fits, and mood swings. She talked to her dolls, she could see the stars--inside, in the morning--it was like living with Sybil. And not once, not at any time, Slayer, did it once cross my mind to leave her because it was a bother to me to comfort her and protect her from herself. I may be the Big Bad, but I’m not completely heartless.”

He got up and turned around, unable to look at the Slayer’s big green eyes, filled with unshed tears. Yes, he’d hurt her--he’d reminded her that one didn’t have to be a demon to do cruel things--but he wasn’t going to let himself be compared to that whitebread army brat. “I’m getting myself something to drink.” He’d only taken a few steps away from her before he turned back to her. Wanker. “Do you want me to get you something?”

Buffy was startled by the bleached blonde’s question. Didn’t he just tell her off? Set her straight? And now he was offering to buy her a drink?! How dare he be a gentleman! But she was really thirsty--the tomato juice had been sorely lacking in thirst quench--so she bit back her pride and nodded. “A Ginger Ale would be nice.” She watched him walk away towards the bar and let a few tears slip by. It was true. Riley, her oh-so-right human boyfriend had turned his back on her at her most needed time; Spike--the former scourge of Europe--had stuck by his own woman through thick and thin. Buffy realized that she still had lots to learn about the world around her--and much more to unlearn...

Buffy sighed and sat back in her chair. Life was so unfair, wasn’t it? Since when was an evil, undead, pain in the ass truer of heart than the ‘normal’ man she‘d loved? According to her mother, Spike had been livid when he‘d heard what had happened between her and Riley. Initially, she’d rolled her eyes, but after hearing Spike defend himself, she was more inclined to believe her mother’s story.

A glass of Ginger Ale, suddenly popping into her field of vision, snapped her out of her musings. “Thanks.”

Instead of dropping down on the sofa, where he had been sitting before having words with the Slayer, Spike took the chair beside Buffy. He’d done some thinking on his drink run and had a few things he wanted to air out. “Look, Slayer...”

“Spike, I appreciate the drink--I really do, but I don’t think I can keep this up tonight, ok? I‘m tired, grumpy and not in the mood for arguing.” She knew he was right, but she didn’t need him rubbing salt into the fresh wounds. She was surprised when the vampire leaned forward and pressed a cool finger to her lips. Instead of hitting him, as she would have done at any moment, she simply raised her eyebrows.

“This isn’t a continuation of what we talked about.” Spike’s brow furrowed, and his lips pressed together. “Well, maybe it is, but just hear me out, alright?” When the young woman nodded, he removed his finger--feeling a sense of loss, for some odd reason--and sat back in the chair.

“I don’t regret saying what I said because every word of it is true, if you ask me. The pillock had no right to leave you in your condition and there’s no arguing with that. But I had no right to bring it up suddenly like I did, nor did I have any right to gloat. I’m sure you’re feelin’ bad enough without having me rub it in your face. I’m sorry I hurt you--I won’t bring it up again unless you want to talk about it.” There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? As he watched the myriad emotions flicker through her hazel orbs, Spike knew the apology had come as a surprise, albeit not an unwelcome one.

Ok. Who was this blonde guy and what had he done with Spike? Buffy stared at the man seated beside her, silent as she digested his words. Spike apologized. Stranger things could happen. Astronauts could discover that the moon really was made of cheese, or Pauly Shore could win an Academy Award, or vampires could apologize for being mean to her... The young woman was slowly discovering that there were indeed many layers to the bleached blonde who shared her company.

She took a sip of her drink and placed it on the table in front of her chair. Bringing her leg up onto the chair so she could sit on it, Buffy turned towards Spike. “I accept your apology Spike. However...” She paused on purpose to tease the vamp a bit. He did deserve it, didn’t he? “...I have something to tell you, too. I think I need to apologize as well. I’ve been harsh with you, even though you’ve agreed to help us out, no strings attached. Ever since you came back a few months ago, you’ve kept your nose clean, you’ve minded your own business and I realize that--and appreciate it. Until now, I haven’t given you the chance to defend yourself against my prejudices and that just isn’t fair. So, Spike, I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch, I’m sorry I haven’t believed you or given you any respect, and as long as you keep it up I’m willing to throw down the gauntlet.”

Spike couldn’t help but stare at the Slayer. This was so much more than he’d expected. He figured that he’d get a grunt, maybe, acknowledging his apology. But an apology from the Slayer herself? And, on top of that, a truce? Maybe there was much more to the young woman than he’d imagined. Perhaps her pregnancy was giving her a touch more maturity than she’d previously had--something to do with hormones or whatnot. That or she’d just needed a verbal slap in the face to wake her up, to shake her out of her black and white world. “Apology accepted, Slayer.”

For the first time ever, Slayer and master vampire shared a comfortable silence. The one that can span quiet moments between friends as they simply enjoy each other’s presence. They sipped their drinks, watching the Scoobies dance to some latin pop song.

Never one much for silence, however, Spike turned his attention to the woman sitting beside him. “So, how far along’s the bit?”

“Huh?” Why can’t he speak English like the rest of us?

The vampire rolled his eyes. Stupid Americans, gotta simplify everything for them. Enunciating clearly, he repeated himself, pointing to her stomach. “The baby, luv. How far along is it?”

“Oh! I’m ten weeks along. But the baby’s only eight weeks old.” Seeing the vampire’s raised eyebrow, Buffy explained. “They’ve got some weird way of calculating your due date now, where they start counting at the first day of your last period. So it kind of adds a couple weeks extra--that way, the pregnancy is always two weeks ahead of how old the baby is. It‘s kind of confusing, but makes sense in a weird logic kind of way.”

The vampire wasn’t even going to pretend to understand what she was trying to explain. “Confusing indeed, pet. Makes no sense whatsoever, but I’ll take your word for it.”

Both blondes sat there, talking about the baby, slaying and anything else that came to mind. They fell into a strangely comfortable discourse that belied any enmity that had existed between them previous to this evening.

A truce in the works, between Slayer and vampire. Maybe things would be better between the two foes after all...

“Spike, will you just shut up about it?”

“Yeah, well your mum’s gonna rip a fresh one out of me if she hears about this. Maybe you don’t care for your appendages, but I do.” The vampire stopped and turned around, watching the blonde follow him at about 20 paces‘ distance. His next statement belied any anger he’d shown her. “You wanna stop for a minute? You’re lagging behind, Slayer. If you’re tired just say so.”

How dare he! “I’m not lagging behind! You’re just walking too fast--God knows you could have missed a dozen vamps just because you’re trying to rush this patrol. Now slow down.” Buffy would never admit it, but the vampire’s fast pace was beginning to wear her down. She had no idea why--they’d only been patrolling for an hour. Her patrols usually lasted at least twice as long, and they never wore her out to the point where she was. “Anyway, if Mom has anything to say about this we both know that you didn’t have a choice. Either I tagged along with you, or I patrolled on my own--you remember my ultimatum.”

Spike had stopped, waiting for her to catch up to him. Buffy was too busy ranting to notice this courtesy on the vampire’s behalf. Resting on a tombstone across from where he stood, she sighed. Damn it felt good to get off her feet. “There was no way I was staying home, alone, tonight. Do you know how boring TV is on Tuesday nights? There’s absolutely nothing on! And with Mom at the gallery ‘till who knows what hour I would have gone stir crazy. So just think about it this way, Spike. You’re actually doing me a favour.”

The bleached vamp was about to reply that she’d be safer bored at home than running through cemeteries in her condition when two vamps sauntered up to them. Neither Spike nor Buffy had sensed them, as they had been so wrapped up in their arguing.

The bigger one, who was probably the leader--the bigger ones always were--spoke up first. “Well, well. If it isn’t the Slayer and her little...” he turned to see who she was talking to and nearly fell flat on his rear. “...Spike?” He looked from Slayer to master vampire to Slayer again, mouth agape.

Buffy hopped off her marble resting spot, deftly twirling a stake through her fingers. Although she was tired, the Slayer part of her felt a boost of energy go through her in the presence of potential prey. “Gee, I guess you aren’t as dumb as you look.” She paused, frowning. “Then again, I don’t see you running the other way, so I think I have to take that back.”

Leader-vamp took a step towards Spike, not caring to be too close to the Slayer just then. He turned to the blonde vampire, trying to read his expression. Impossible, of course, as Spike stood stock still, arms crossed over his chest and wearing his best poker face. Perplexed--something was really not right--the vamp broke the silence. “Uh, Spike? Why aren’t you killing her?”

Rolling his eyes, the bleached blonde finally spoke. “What does it look like we’re doing, you dolt? We’re having ourselves a picnic. Basket o’goodies is in the car, and we’re just looking for a nice comfy spot where we can lay the blanket.”

Buffy’s hand flew up to her mouth to stifle the laugh that almost escaped. Maybe hanging around Spike could actually be funny. Frowning at the perplexed vamp, she jumped in the game. “Yeah, and you and your friend weren’t invited. You’re ruining our picnic, you... ruiners.”

The second vamp, who until now had done a good job of blending in with the shrubs, took a step back in an attempt to leave the two blondes to their get-together. Who knew why a Slayer and master vampire were having a picnic at night in a cemetery, but it couldn’t mean anything but trouble in his mind. His retreat was impeded by his buddy’s firm grip on his shirt, and he inwardly cursed the day he’d joined up with the loudmouth troublemaker.

“Come back here, you idiot. They’re shitting us.” He narrowed his eyes at Spike, growling. “Seems Spike here’s changed sides, or something. Doesn’t matter, though.” He puffed his chest out, looking like some rain-swollen scarecrow. “Killing a master vampire’s gonna bolster our reps.” Looking at the more timid vamp, he nodded towards Buffy. “You take the Slayer, I’ll handle Spike.”

Mumbling to himself, you take the Slayer, I’ll handle Spike, the smaller vampire turned to face the Slayer. Struggling to keep his legs from taking him far, far away from Memorial Cemetery, he eyed his opponent, unsure of where to strike first.

Sensing his indecision, Buffy decided for him. A swift kick to his midsection sent him stumbling over the nearest gravestone. She turned quickly to Spike, seeing that he and leader-vamp were already going at it full tilt. For once, she was happy to fight the lamer vampire. She wasn’t too sure if she could’ve taken a stronger vampire, in her condition.

Ok, maybe this patrolling gig wasn’t so bad. Yeah, he was fighting his kind. Killing, actually. But it was more fun than he’d had in ages--literally--what with taking care of Dru, the whole Angelus reborn deal, and those army guys. Good thing he’d gotten away before they’d been able to do anything to him. God knows what nefarious plans they’d had for him...

A quick jab to his jaw brought the bleached vamp back from his musings. Fight now, ponder later, mate. He shook his head and punched the other vampire back, breaking his nose. Enraged, leader-vamp flew at him with a volley of punches and kicks, all of which were blocked by the master vampire. It may have been a long time since he’d fought like this, but a bloke doesn’t forget that easily.

Figuring he’d led the vamp on long enough, Spike pulled a stake from his coat sleeve and pushed it through the demon’s heart, watching its corporeal form turn to dust. Even if he’d done this many times in the past weeks, the sight of another vamp’s dust settling to the earth still disturbed him. He couldn’t help but think of his own remains and where they would end up settling...

Turning around, he realized that he’d forgotten about the Slayer. A pregnant Slayer, who should be sitting at home, feet up on the coffee table, watching some inane TV show with a laugh track. He frowned when he couldn’t see her--had something happened to her? That smaller vamp should have been a breeze for her, but what if it had been the better fighter of the two... “Slayer? Buffy?”

A small voice came from behind a larger tombstone. “Ugh. Remind me to stay home next time...” Buffy pulled herself up, with some trouble. “Geez, I’ve only been off patrol for, like, a month or so and I feel like I’m 98 years old.” Finally on her two legs, she tried to take a step forward but ended up lurching forward before being caught by the blonde vampire.

“’S cause your body’s concentratin’ more on taking care of the bit, pet. You shouldn’t be fighting--it can’t be good for the baby.” He held her in place until she was able to stand on her own. He extended his arm and smiled at her. “Let’s call it a night and take you home, shall we?”

Buffy smiled at him, accepting his arm--she pushed aside the idea that it was just plain wrong to allow Spike to help her. He was offering, after all, and she was really not in a position to refuse. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while.” Wincing, she held her side. “I think I’m up for a nice, hot bath and a warm cup of cocoa.”

***

Spike settled onto the couch, ready to watch The World’s Worst Drivers--shows like that were always worth a chuckle. He’d just finished helping Buffy up the stairs so she could have that relaxing bath she’d prattled on and on about on their way home.

His keen hearing picked up a thump, followed by some muffled cries.

Taking the stairs two by two, he stopped at the bathroom door. He gave a two-knuckled rap on the door. “Slayer? Is everything ok?” When a minute had gone by with no response, he was ready to break the door down. What if she’d fallen, or fainted? He tried the handle--best not to cause damage if there’s an easier way to go about it--and saw that the door was locked. “Buffy, if you don’t answer me, I’m gonna break this door down and come in!” He was past being worried by now and was planning on following through with his threat.

Since when had he come to care so much for the Slayer anyway? Was it because she was with child, which reminded him that no matter what happens, no matter what horrible things take place, life goes on? Or was it because she’d actually treated him well in the past few weeks, not only thanking him for patrolling for her, but actually being civil, even friendly, to him, taking their truce seriously? Heck, maybe it was all of the above...

The clicking of the lock startled him from his thoughts. He didn’t hesitate to open the door and peer inside. The first thing that hit him was the faint smell of blood. Vamp must’ve gotten her worse than she let on. When he looked at her as she sat on the edge of the bathtub, face pale, arms wrapped around herself, body shaking, he knew it was more than that. Crouching in front of her, he placed a hand on her knee and looked her in the eyes. Pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face, he spoke quietly. “Pet--what’s wrong?” The sight of the Slayer, of all people, so shaken up by something freaked him out.

Sniffling, she brought her eyes level to his. She knew she should call one of the Scoobies, or her mom at the gallery, but for some reason she decided to put her trust in Spike. “I’m... I’m bleeding.” Her voice was faint and shaky.

Spike let out a little breath, part laugh part relief that she wasn’t in shock. “Yeah, I can smell it. Do you want me to look at it for you? Bandage it up?” Why was the Slayer being so squeamish all of a sudden? He himself had given her more serious battle wounds than she seemed to have received tonight.

The young woman shook her head. “Can’t bandage it up. It’s the baby. It must’ve happened when I fell, in the cemetery.” Her gaze never broke from his when she told him, hoping that she wouldn’t have to go into too much detail. Come on, Spike--figure it out...

Spike closed his eyes, hands clenching into fists. Damn! He knew he shouldn’t have let her come patrolling. Yeah, like you had any choice--Slayer does what Slayer wants, mate, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Now wasn’t the time, however, for self-recrimination. Now was the time for making intelligent decisions. Taking the young woman into his arms, he stood up. He was mildly surprised that, instead of fighting him, she curled up against his chest. “Hold tight, luv. We’ll take you to the hospital. To the doctors--they’ll help you and the bit.” I hope...

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.

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