Restive Nature
Rated NC-17
A/N- I really want to apologize to everyone who’s been reading this story for the incredibly long time it took to update. There was a big writer’s block for me to work through and when I finally did, the chapter still wouldn’t work. I think I ripped it apart about twenty times. It only clicked yesterday when I decided to take it in a slightly different direction than I had planned. But please, enjoy. I really doubt the next chapter will be long in coming.
Chapter Seventeen
Bearer Of Bad News
The days since Buffy discovered that Spike had known all along about the pregnancy test did not pass easily. There was something more between them, but they had lost something as well. Before, they had been making their way together. Now it felt as if they had separated and must start on that long road before them again. And sometimes Buffy wasn’t so sure that she wanted to. Things, like always, seemed wonderful on the surface. But it wasn’t. Sure, they had a home, jobs, Dawn was doing fairly well in school. Their friends were close. Slaying was easier every day. There were no apocalypses looming on the horizon. But this last time, with the lack of a child being produced between them, it seemed as if it were all crumbling down about their ears.
They had spent that night, curled up about one another on the sofa. Dawn had found them in the morning and debated joining them. She’d eventually decided against it, knowing that even though she was aware, on the edge of things, she shouldn’t interfere in this. Something big had happened between them and as much as she wanted to help, she could end up making things worse with her interference. She’d learned that much, about all relationships, not just Hellmouth born ones. So she had her breakfast in silence not waking the tired couple and descended once again to her little haven. She knew that sooner or later one or even both of them would clue her in to the details.
There were no words between the engaged couple when they woke. Neither could express what was foremost in their hearts at that moment. Which was strange for Spike. He’d always been forthright, proud of what he was, doing, thinking. Even if he continually stuck his foot in it, at least people knew where he was coming from. Buffy had been like that once, when she was still young. But then the weight of her world intruded and secrets became a way of life. Secrets from her mother, her watcher, her lovers and friends. Even as they kept theirs from her. This last year, she’d finally begun to open up again, realizing that if she didn’t let people know what was going on with her, she’d lose them. Whether it was the emotional intimacy they all craved, or from their being fed up with her reticence and actually leaving. But this was such a huge thing for them that neither knew where to start.
So Buffy stole upstairs to shower while Spike wandered into the kitchen, finding the coffee that Dawn had started. The rest of the day continued like that. When one moved into nearby space, the other moved out. And when the day was done, there was the relief that the next day, Monday, would bring about the routine that they could escape into. One that would give them the easily accepted excuse that they had places to go, things to do, life to live, instead of the curious limbo they were despising.
After work, where Daphne had grilled Buffy about her advice, Buffy was more than glad to get home. She was a little miffed that Daphne had come in on her day off just to find out how Buffy was doing. It was sweet in a way, but also more than the blonde Slayer was able to handle. Buffy felt as if she already had enough friends, and while she liked Daphne, things had progressed too rapidly for them to be on the terms of sharing what she was with people like Willow. But she was reminded by a nasty little voice in her head that it was she who had shared the problem with Daphne, so it was her own fault that the woman felt like she had some claim on her employees’ life.
Buffy absentmindedly collected the mail from the box as she opened the front door. She carried it in with her all the way to the kitchen. She set her purse on the counter, glancing at the fridge for any notes. There was one from Spike, a sweet little post-it, with a simple ‘I love you’ on it. She ran her finger over it, sighing as she did. She knew they needed to talk, needed to get this out. But he had left for work an hour ago. And he would be tired when he arrived home. Buffy planned a little, knowing that he had the next two nights off. Maybe that would give her enough time to figure a few things out and be calm enough and rational enough to clear some things up. Her revelations had startled, if not hurt him. And she was ready to admit that some of the things he said had merit as well.
She shuffled through the mail, grimacing over the number of bills that arrived with the first week of the month. But her face lit up when she caught the Italian postmark. A letter from Xander was always a good way to cheer her up. She threw the other letters onto the counter again and clutched Xander’s letter to her chest. It was addressed to her and Spike, which was strange. It usually bore her name or Dawn’s. Buffy smiled to herself. It looked like Xander was doing some maturing as well. She pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator and made her way to the most comfortable chair in the house. She wanted time to relish the communication from one of her oldest friends.
Once she was settled, and had the letter and bottle opened, she leaned back to peruse the latest hilarity that had befallen her friend. What she didn’t expect was to read that her friend was deliriously happy to announce that he was going to be able to make it to their wedding. The letter slipped from numbed fingers into her lap. She set the bottle of water down and gazed unseeingly at the white paper with the blue, shaky markings on it.
The wedding. For the last few months, she, Dawn and Willow had been planning it as time allowed. She, with a minimal amount of input from Spike, had decided to have an extremely small outdoor ceremony on the beach. Casual dress was all right. Spike was going to wear the suit he had worn to Max and Angel’s wedding. Buffy had looked during her breaks for a decent, affordable dress. Dawn had seen a lovely, midnight blue sheath dress that Buffy had approved of for the girl. They’d decided that they didn’t need groomsmen or bridesmaids, as they didn’t want to offend anyone not chosen. It was going well. But all thoughts of the wedding had been pushed from Buffy’s mind with thoughts of a baby tearing her up from the inside. But now, one thought resonated in her mind. With all this insanity going on, should she and Spike be getting married?
It wasn’t a question that she had a ready answer for. It continued to run around her traitorous mind even as she read the rest of Xander’s letter. She dropped the pages finally, when she realized that she’d absorbed nothing of what the man had written beyond his acceptance of the invitation. Buffy bit her lip as she recalled the invitations that she and Dawn had labored so hard over. They’d deliberated over the selection of ready-made invitations, as they didn’t need many. Spike had suggested just calling everyone a few days prior to the date and giving out details. He’d quickly learned about the volume of two Summers women compared to one for that little blunder, swearing that he was deaf for a good three days afterwards.
In the end, they’d chosen a cream colored cardstock with a gorgeous spray of lilacs on the bottom. Dawn had borrowed a wedding etiquette book from the library and had set about writing out the necessary information on each of the cards. Buffy had guilted her into writing the addresses as well, as her sister had the neater penmanship of the two. But Dawn had been adamant that Buffy lick the envelopes and stamps. And then Spike had been his usual smart-assed self and brought her a sponge, just as she’d reached the second to last envelope. She’d offered to kiss him, if his thoughtfulness hadn’t been a little too late. He’d complained about her ‘glue breath’ and she’d ended up chasing him about the house, trying to get in said kiss. It had been a wonderful, relaxed evening.
And it all seemed so far away now, that evening. There seemed no way of getting it back now. Buffy ran the letter through her fingertips, wondering how or even if she should respond to Xander. Certainly, she still loved Spike. That hadn’t changed. What had, or simply re-emerged was the lack of confidence in herself. Could she marry Spike, knowing that there was a possibility that she’d never give him a child? What if they did marry and he came to resent her for that major lack? For no amount of his being Dawn’s pseudo-big brother could fill the urge that she, Buffy had unwittingly awoken in him.
And so her mind rife of the many possibilities folded the letter back into its haphazard thirds and slid it back into the envelope. It, along with the pregnancy test, were now on the same agenda of things that must be talked about. Buffy took another sip of water. She stared off towards the darkening sky. She felt small in the face of the clouds marring what she could see of the deepening blue. The padding of the cushion that surrounded her, swallowing her whole. The easy feel of the soft velour napping suddenly chafing at her despite the barrier of her clothing. The very strange sensation of feeling that she didn’t fit in her body began to unnerve her. It didn’t take long for the need for action to move her.
She was out of the chair, moving to the phone before her mind logically deciphered her plan. All the pre-conditioning in the Watcher’s led them to believe that the Slayer was more efficient working on her own. No attachments to distract her. Connections, emotions, love was a hindrance. But Buffy had blown them out of the water. Her attachments and emotions made her better than what she should have been. And the support and love she’d had from her friends and family in the early years was enough to sustain her through the dark year, as she now tended to think of it. But the aftermath of that emotion filled journey of nothingness had taught her a valuable lesson. Some emotions had to be dealt with, head on.
The emotion sucking her in right now was loneliness. The feeling that no one else on earth understood where she was coming from. And as she’d illustrated before, so long ago to Giles, no one could understand her life because she was the one enduring it, trying to live it. Even with all the new Slayers, they still didn’t understand. For all of them, one slip, one mis-step and that was the end. It was how Buffy had thought, when she was younger and freshly despised her destiny. But then Xander had brought her back. He’d also been in on it years later when Willow had worked her mojo. Did it make her cocky? To think that it had happened twice, it could happen again? No, because she knew they’d learned their lesson the last time around. So it was true that even in the midst of a large Slaying family they’d created, no one, not even Faith understood her life fully.
But on the other hand, there were other women out there that weren’t getting pregnant. But Buffy knew none of them that she was aware of. But she needed to connect in that simple way that empathetic women had with each other. Being able to say ‘I know’, even if you didn’t, simply because the same hormones at one time or another coursed through your body. So that was why she was calling Willow. That and the added fact that her brain was hinting in a niggling, annoying voice that she’d kept meaning to call Wills. They’d needed some one on one time for a while now; not only to discuss the latest Summers' crisis, but to discuss the downturns of the Wiccan’s life as well.
She was so very caught up in these thoughts as she lifted the receiver, that she didn’t notice her hand bump the redial button. She set the letter from Xander beside the phone and punched in the number to the Hyperion, hoping that Willow was there. She was momentarily stunned by the unfamiliar voice that came over the line. Until she realized that it was a recording. But it was not the standard one that Cordy had recorded.
"Hello," the pleasantly voiced woman announced. "You have reached the Jamison Family Planning Clinic. Office hours are from eight a.m. to five p.m. If you are experiencing a medical emergency and need to speak to a doctor, please call-!" Buffy slammed the phone down, staring at it in confusion. She stayed motionless for a brief moment before her eyes crept heavenward. She shivered slightly, wondering if someone up there was trying to tell her something. She laughed out loud then, bemused at her own assumption. It was just one of those incredibly strange coincidences. She’d just misdialed. Shaking her head, she dismissed her musings and returned to her phone call.
*****
Spike was feeling guilty.
The annoying prickling on the back of his neck, similar, yet completely different from his Slayer sense had kept him off balance all day. Right from the moment he’d awoken, and had pretended to still be asleep. He’d watched Buffy through slitted eyes as she’d padded around the bedroom, getting ready for work. He normally wasn’t up until noon or so on weekdays. He’d wake enough to kiss her goodbye, and then drift into slumber as the comforting sounds of she and Dawn moving through the house lulled him back to sleep. But today, he couldn’t even give her that brief moment of comfort. For he was worried that she’d see the … whatever it was in his eyes.
She called it his impy eyes. The look, the glimmer that told her he had a plan in mind or an idea that she might not like. And usually she was right. And still, in all these years, he hadn’t learned to hide that from her. He’d hidden a lot of emotions from her, when he was a Vampire. But he couldn’t kid himself any more. It hadn’t been so much his ability to hide, but her unwillingness to look. And it wasn’t just his eyes. These days, he wasn’t fool enough to think it was just that. She had learned, as had he with her, certain telltale signs. The eyes, the set tension in the body, certain nervous phrases, used despite the best attempt not too. All signs that something was off.
It wasn’t precisely that he was doing this behind Buffy’s back for her own wellbeing. Spike knew that whatever the outcome, she would be hurt. Hurt for her, for him, for them and whatever they couldn’t have. But somewhere along the line it had clicked in his mind that he needed to do this for her. He’d been taking the blows for her for so long that he didn’t know what else to do. It was hard for him to remember that sometimes the emotional aftermath was infinitely more difficult than the initial trauma.
Once Buffy and Dawn had left, Spike had pursued his day. On Saturday, he’d contacted a likely looking doctor out of the phone book. That doctor’s receptionist had referred him to the Jamison Family Planning Center where they did fertility work. Of course, the clinic was constantly taking on new patients. Spike had called there and had been able to worm his way into a fifteen-minute consultation with Doctor Ferguson that afternoon. The appointment had been stilted. Dr. Ferguson had been surprised that Spike had admitted to being in a relationship, but hadn’t brought his partner in. And was even more so when Spike explained that no, Buffy hadn’t been tested as yet, to his knowledge. But despite the good doctors feeling that it was better for couple to do this together, he couldn’t turn away a patient in need.
So two days later, Spike had been put through the rigors of a full physical. It was noted in his file, his thoroughly falsified file, that he hadn’t been though any medical treatment in years. So, the physical tests were run, blood was drawn and of course the expected wank behind closed doors was endured. But he did it for his fiancée’s sake and to a lesser degree, his own. He needed answers for both of them. But the manner he’d gone about doing it weighed heavily on him. Angel’s voice resounded in his mind at the oddest times. Advice that he wondered about, whether it was really coming from his own conscious or not. Because calling himself an idiot who should tell Buffy the truth before this went any further certainly did sound like the type of advice the wanker liked to hand out.
Spike sighed as he absentmindedly completed another drink order. He’d only been slightly late for his shift at Caritas. And Lorne, knowing what was going on, hadn’t said a word. Of course, that hadn’t stopped the green demon from letting his eyes flicker sympathetically over the former Vampire. Even now, as every time before, Lorne turned back to the stage, focusing on a blonde enigma’s performance. Spike pushed the drink over to the customer, smiling automatically at the lame pick-up that was thrown into the quiet that strangely surrounded him. He just shrugged, not even bothering to process what the woman said. His thoughts were still a merry-go-round in his head. To tell Buffy or not to tell her.
*****
Buffy stared dejectedly at the meal set out on the table. Dawn had finally breezed home from school, grabbed a burger that her sister had made from the table and ran down to her room. Buffy barely caught the mumblings about the hot date. So it looked like some sisterly bonding was out of the question. After she’d called the hotel and had been told that Willow wasn’t available, she’d figured that she and Dawn could hang out. But that apparently wasn’t to be. So she began to serve up her solitary meal, her flustered mind working to focus on the sounds emitting from the basement. It was a welcome distraction from her damn thoughts, her lips curving as she recalled the frenetic excitement of a new guy to primp and pretty herself for.
She finished quickly and began to clear away the food, making up a plate for Spike if he wanted merely by rote. Since he hadn’t appeared to be home all day, she could only guess that he’d probably grabbed something somewhere else. Just as she was slipping the last dish into the sink to be washed, she heard a knock at the front door. Realizing that it must be Dawn’s date, she wiped her hands off on the dishcloth and moved languidly down the hall. She caught sight of the time, smiling that this guy seemed to be punctual, if they had indeed set their date for seven o’clock. She swung the door open and was greeted by the gentle sight of a six-foot brunette wearing blue jeans, a black shirt and a leather jacket. Buffy smiled and tilted her head to the side. "Hi, can I help you?"
"Yeah hi," the young man grinned down at her. "I’m Jason. I’m here to pick up Dawn." Buffy grinned to herself at the guy’s cocky assurance. She stepped back to let him inside.
"I’m Buffy, Dawn’s sister," she stated, although she had an inkling he’d already figured it out. And even though she knew she shouldn’t, she let her senses reach out and take in the feel of him. It wasn’t an intrusion in her mind. Just an accepted part of their weird life. Because whether Dawn liked to admit it or not, the Summer’s women, hell, all the Hellmouth alum attracted weird people. But this guy was clean. "Have a seat," she gestured to the living room. "I’ll go see if Dawn’s ready."
Jason nodded and moved to take a seat on the couch. Buffy glanced outside as she was closing the door. The only car there had to have been his. And Buffy was slightly relieved to see two other people sitting in the back of the blue vehicle. Hot date also seemed to be group date. Which was smart of Dawn on more than one level Buffy decided. She turned and moved to the basement door, slipping in and making it halfway down before calling for her sister in a quiet tone.
"Yeah Buffy?" Dawn stuck her head out her door.
"Jason’s here," the petite blonde announced. Dawn nodded and ducked back into her room, emerging a moment later with purse and jacket in hand.
"Cute, isn’t he?" she asked, grinning up at her sister.
"I’ve seen worse," Buffy chuckled lightly as she climbed the steps.
"Oh, just cause he isn’t bottle blonde with killer blue eyes," Dawn snickered.
"Yeah, he’s cute," Buffy giggled. Well, it wasn’t the evening she’d planned or hoped for, but at least Dawn was going to have a good time, or so she hoped. She waited until Jason had politely stood and was helping Dawn with her jacket on. The urge to play mother to her little sister was too strong. "So, where are you going?" she asked as gently as she could, biting her lip. Dawn’s eyes flickered for a moment and Buffy could see both amusement and annoyance there.
"Movies," Jason answered succinctly. "There’s a seven forty-five showing." Buffy nodded and he glanced down at his date. "Did you manage to catch dinner?" he asked solicitously. Dawn nodded.
"Buff had dinner ready when I got home," Dawn informed him. She glanced at her sister, warning her not to say anything. But Buffy was still biting her lip, just to prevent that. "Well we should get going," Dawn squared her shoulders. It had been a while since Buffy had been around one of her guys and she really didn’t want to give her inquisitive sister the chance to start the question game.
"All right," Buffy nodded. "Have a good time."
"We will," Dawn smiled back at her, trying to convey her thanks at the easy-going manner her older sibling was projecting. "Oh!" Her hand went to her pocket as she tried to assure herself. Her hand gripped around the outside, outlining a little rectangular case. "Yep, I’ve got my cell phone," Dawn announced. Buffy nodded and followed them to the door. She smiled wistfully as she watched Jason hold the car door open for her little sister and then hurried around to his side. The car pulled away smoothly and Buffy felt her heart clench a little more. She let the door drift shut, pushing it a little to make sure it caught, then leaned against it, staring up at the ceiling. Spike was working, Dawn was on a date, and Willow was unavailable. Well, just like any other time, Slaying it was.
*****
Buffy growled to herself as she stalked back towards her home. She’d been feeling the nervous, twitchy energy building up inside her all day. She was ready to talk damn it! And there was no one to talk to. Spike, working, Willow, gone and Dawn, date! So she’d resorted to the one thing left to her to work off some of that energy. Slaying. But then the nasty demons and Vampires that roamed the nightlife were nowhere to be found. There was only one instance that even came close to a confrontation. She’d been pushing out her senses and had shivered uncontrollably as something drifted by her. It wasn’t a Vampire, the feel was totally wrong for it. It didn’t feel like a demon. The closest feeling she could describe was as if someone were walking over her grave. Which she knew to be a literal impossibility. Unless of course the government had research teams combing the ruins of Sunnydale.
The feeling, on top of her strung out nerves did serve one purpose. And that was to nearly make Wes wet himself. When he’d seen Buffy in the cemetery, he’d called out to her. But from the look of concentration on her face, knew she hadn’t heard him. So he’d approached cautiously, learning from his time as a Watcher and as a member of Team Angel to go slowly with no sudden movements. But that hadn’t stopped her from spinning around with a high kick directly to his chest and the split second after he’d landed, nearly losing his chance at ever procreating, while taking in the stake poised less than an inch from his heart.
"Oh God! Wes!" Buffy squeaked. She scrambled back, stuffing the stake into her back pocket before holding out a hand to help him up. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?"
Wes arched an eyebrow at her extended limb, then carefully took hold. In her nervousness, she pulled a little harder than she meant to and the Brit was nearly yanked to his feet. "I was, well, honestly…" he cleared his throat. "I was trying to prevent just that from happening."
"You should know better than to sneak up on a Slayer," Buffy lectured wryly, watching him brush himself off.
"I didn’t sneak!" he proclaimed indignantly as his head shot up to stare at her, clearly hurt by her assessment. Buffy tilted her head to the side, clearly disbelieving him. "Really. I called your name and made as much noise as possible as I approached."
"Uh huh," Buffy murmured, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I did," he protested. "It’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention."
"Me?" Buffy scoffed. "I was paying attention." She bit her lower lip, wondering why she was arguing with the man. Honestly, she knew that Wes knew better. He would make as much noise as possible. He even made noise when he was trying to be quiet. But Buffy would never tell him that. The man needed a little dignity after all. "I guess just not to you."
"And what were you concentrating on?" he wondered, interested in why the premiere Slayer of the generation was off her game.
"It’s nothing," Buffy finally dismissed. "Just a ghost on my grave."
"That’s odd," Wes grimaced. He’d been around the mystic too long to believe that a Slayer sensing the supernatural aside from demons was a coincidence.
"So what are you doing here?" Buffy asked quickly before Wes got off rambling on one of his tangents.
"Oh, well, er," Wes stammered. "I was looking for someone." Buffy’s eyebrows went up again.
"In a graveyard?" she chuckled. "At night? Without a weapon?" She was going to let that sink in, but Wes surprised her by patting down his leather jacket until he came to the stake he’d inserted there earlier. She nodded, taking in his preparedness. "Was it a contact?"
"No," Wes shook his head. "Not really. You didn’t happen to see a blonde woman, probably early to mid forties pass by here?"
"Uh uh," Buffy shook her head as well. "Nobody’s been around for a while. Just you and me."
"Well that’s odd," Wes ruminated again. "I could have sworn she came this way." He sighed and stuffed the stake back in its secret place.
"Who?"
"Oh, I don’t know her," Wes chuckled. Buffy grinned knowingly.
"But you’d like to, huh?" she teased gently. Wes looked thoroughly confused at her inference. "Never mind." She yawned a little, finally feeling like the energy she’d been playing with had finally worn off, given the veracity of her little encounter with the former Watcher. "Well, have fun finding her. I’m going to head home."
"You’re not going to help me?" Wes’ face fell momentarily.
"Wes," Buffy giggled, "I’m a Slayer, not a dating service." His eyes opened a little wider, as if finally understanding what she was getting at. He hastily backpedaled.
"Oh no no," he grunted. "It’s nothing like that…" he trailed off, glancing away uncertainly. Buffy just rolled her eyes, appreciating the fact that his appearance had taken her mind off her troubles for at least fifteen minutes. But of course, thinking that had led her right back to where she didn’t particularly want to be. She glanced back at the stammering man before her. What the hell? She had nothing to do for a couple hours. And teasing Wes could just be so much fun.
"All right you studly manly man," she sighed good-naturedly, grabbing his arm and heading back the way she’d came. "Let’s go find your mystery woman."
*****
A week after that incident and Buffy wondered if it had been the catalyst in a chain reaction event. Suddenly everyone was avoiding her. Some people she could understand why. She’d heard through the grapevine that just before she’d called that Monday, Max and Kennedy had had a big blowout and Willow had finally given in and told the brunette Slayer to leave. Buffy had talked to Will briefly on the phone and the redhead had asked for some time before spilling everything. Buffy had wisely backed off and assured her friend that she’d be ready to listen when the time came.
Max and Angel were getting back in the swing of things, so their return from overseas had Giles, Cordy, Wes and Gunn tied up. Giles mainly to see his granddaughter. The others were back at work, saving Angel’s hopeless. Even so, their paths never once crossed while patrolling. Not that Buffy had seen the others too often before Max and Angel got back. So she could live with that. Dawn was busy too. Her first date with Jason had gone extremely well. And she liked the people he’d had as friends. So when she wasn’t working or in school, she could generally be found hanging out with them. All of this Buffy could understand. What bothered her was Spike.
He’d picked up extra shifts at Caritas on Tuesday and Wednesday. Then his regular shifts happened Thursday, Friday and Saturday. But instead of coming straight home, he’d headed off to patrol. She’d managed to ask him about it once and his only answer was that even with Angel back, LA was a big town to cover. She’d tried once to go with him, but he insisted on splitting up. The rejection and hurt she’d felt in those moments nearly made her heart stop it was hurting so badly.
On Sunday morning, Spike had grilled Dawn about her new boyfriend, barely letting Buffy get a word in edgewise. After a few aborted attempts, she had sat back and watched him. He tried to concentrate fully on Dawn and what she was saying. But every so often, his gaze would slip to her face. And Buffy stared right back at him, trying to interpret what was being so carefully hidden. Fear? Anger? Regret? It was almost enough to make her jump to conclusions.
She warred with herself all afternoon. Was Spike regretting continuing their relationship? Was he sorry that he’d asked her to marry him? Was he mad at her, maybe blaming her for not getting pregnant? Was he going to leave her? The air flew from her lungs at that thought. It haunted her the rest of the day and through the night. She was actually relieved when Spike announced that he was going out. She prepared herself for bed, huddled under the covers; alternating between a blind panic at the thoughts in her head and chastising herself for said panic.
But the next day, her panic was exchanged for a new emotion. She’d gotten off work as usual, knowing that Spike wouldn’t be home since his shift started at four. Dawn would be home for dinner, she thought, as she didn’t have work. But that was up in the air, as the teen was spending the majority of her free time either with Jason, or on the phone about him. Buffy sighed as she made her way through the house. She’d developed a headache that morning, partially from lack of sleep, but mostly from the chaotic cacophony in her mind. She shuffled her way around the kitchen, automatically preparing dinner, her mind not all there. It took about four trips to the refrigerator before she noticed the post-it that Dawn had left. With a groan, she shut the door and pulled the sticky tab free. Too late, she noticed it was addressed to Spike.
A split second later, the vaguely familiar name Jamison jumped out at her. Someone named Jamison had called and would try to contact him at work. If not, they’d call back tomorrow. She read it through a few more times, although the searing words were already committed to memory. But not a man named Jamison. The Jamison Family Planning Clinic. The impact crashed in on her and suddenly she understood the strange, contemplative looks Spike had been giving her. It wasn’t fear for her. It was fear of her. Buffy leaned against the counter; one arm wrapped around her waist as her finger absently rubbed at the square piece of paper.
She knew now what had to have been running through Spike’s mind. As well as she knew her own fears, she had quite the handle on his. And she thought he’d worked through them. But there was always the fear that he was coming in second best for the person that mattered most to him. For so long, he’d accused her of using Angel as her measuring stick in all other relationships. And to an extent it had been true. Until Spike. He’d broken every boundary she’d had, high and low. They’d gone further with each other than she’d ever imagined possible with Angel and even his alter ego Angelus. She had no doubts now about her love for the blonde male Slayer. But did he still harbor reservations about the depth of her commitment? Was that why he’d kept his visit to the clinic a secret?
Buffy gnawed on her lower lip. Spike, who’d never been sick since his first days as a human, now had to face the most damning thing imaginable. He couldn’t father a child. Buffy glanced once more at the note, debating whether or not to replace it on the fridge for him. But she finally decided that it was unnecessary. She’d tell him herself. And then tell him that it didn’t matter to her. He was still the man she loved. And his going to a clinic was actually a good thing, she decided spontaneously. The argument built in her head. She knew she’d be able to convince him of that. Despite whatever negative outcome his tests must have said, the advances science had made in the fertility field were extraordinary. Buoyed by these thoughts, Buffy felt her spirits lift. Whatever his condition was, they’d overcome. A brief flash of her little boy waiting flew through her mind. ‘Soon,’ she promised both herself and that amorphous figure waiting for his time.
*****
Spike paused on his way up the walk. The Jamison clinic had finally called with his results. He’d just barely gotten to work and Lorne had informed him that he had a personal call. He’d ducked into the office and had braced himself for the news. His heart leapt into his stomach and he’d had to swallow a few times before he answered the nurse on the other end of the line He nearly couldn’t breathe when she dropped her bombshell. It wasn’t him. All reactions and bodily functions were intact. It wasn’t him. Motility looked good. It wasn’t him. The doctor believed that his chances of contributing to conception were high. It wasn’t him. But they wanted him to bring his partner in for testing. It wasn’t him. It was Buffy.
He’d worked the rest of the night, slightly nauseous, mostly nervous. How to tell the one person you loved more than anything in the world that she was technically defective. When he finished his shift, he made no excuses to himself. There was no more running from this. He couldn’t use any more excuses such as work, or Slaying. He had to go home and confront this. And then the flickering light from the master bedroom caught his eye. Somehow he’d known that Buffy would be waiting up. They’d been dancing around each other for too long. With reluctance, he grimaced and forced himself to continue up to the house.
He paused in the doorway to the bedroom; having dispensed of is boots and coat at the front door. But she’d heard him. She was curled up in the winged chair situated in the corner of the room near the window. She watched him, watching her and then slowly, unfurled her legs from where they were tucked up and rose from her chair. Spike was across the room in a heartbeat, gathering her up close to him. She hugged him back fiercely, stroking her hands up and down his back.
"Love you," he whispered brokenly.
"I know," she crooned into his ear. "I know you do. And it’s okay."
He pulled back in surprise, trying to read her face. She smiled gently, encouragingly. "You know/"
She nodded slowly. "They called here first."
"Oh God Buffy," he moaned. "I’m so sorry luv."
"It’s all right," she murmured, pulling him close again. "Whatever the problem, we can work through it. It doesn’t mater to me if you can’t have children. We’ll figure this out. You know, they’ve made incredible advancements…" She trailed off as he jerked back from her in surprise. She winced inwardly at the astonishment on his face. Had she made a mistake, bringing this up so quickly? He was probably still reeling from the news himself.
"Buffy," he said it so quietly that she had to strain to hear him. "It’s not me."
Strength Of The Soul
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