Time passed too quickly for Buffy's liking - ever since she had found out she was pregnant. She hadn't told anyone, still in denial that it was happening at all. She'd managed to pass off the morning sickness as a stomach bug, but now at five months along, she knew she couldn't hide the pregnancy for much longer.

One day, whilst Buffy satisfied a craving for a cheese and chocolate spread sandwich, Cordelia looked her up and down and commented, “Buffy, you might want to start cutting back on all those carbs. You’re starting to get fat.”

Buffy froze mid-mouthful, while her friends all spoke at once.

“Cordelia!” Xander scolded.

“Talk about tactless,” Oz said.

“Buffy’s not fat,” Willow said. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not being mean. I’m just being honest.” Cordelia gave Buffy her I’m-being-charitable smile.

“Thanks, Cordelia,” Buffy said coldly. The last thing she wanted was more attention drawn towards the weight gain.

“No problem,” Cordelia answered, as if pleased that she had done Buffy a great big favour.

Despite trying to hide under looser clothing, Buffy knew she would not be able to keep her condition concealed much longer, and she still had no idea what she was going to tell everyone. How were you supposed to say that you’re carrying the baby of a man who’s been dead for more than a century?

Buffy had been doing her best to avoid anything to do with her slaying, for fear of harming the baby. When Giles thought she was patrolling, she was actually at home and so far, she had managed to get out of physically fighting every time a crisis came up, leaving her armed friends to deal with it. She felt guilty about this, but knew that if they knew the truth, they may understand why she could not fight but she would have to deal with all of their questions.

Probably because of her lack of active participation on the Slaying front, Buffy had not seen Spike face to face for a while, although she knew he had called at the house several times and been turned away by her mother. She couldn’t risk meeting him, because William had always been pretty observant. He was bound to notice her changing figure, put it together with her recent lack of ass-kicking and work out what was up. The last person in the world Buffy wanted to know she was pregnant was Spike.

Although trying her best not to think about him, Buffy had not been able to stop herself from researching what could possibly have caused her dreams to become so … real. Her efforts had been rewarded when, finally, she came across a reference to something called “living dreams” in one of Giles’ difficult volumes, which defined them as a state enabling one’s astral self to take physical form in a different reality, place or time, whilst that person is asleep. No other useful details were given, but Buffy had read enough to know it was what had happened to her.

It had been easy to research, because all the supernatural books that had previously been in the library were currently sitting in boxes in the Summers’ basement. After going on strike, Giles had removed them all from the library and politely requested that he keep them there, as his house didn’t have the room – or so he said. It wasn’t until Buffy came down early one morning to find Giles himself sleeping on the couch that it was discovered Snyder had fired him over the strike, and he had lost his house, and had hidden the fact because he hadn’t wanted Buffy to feel guilty about it.

That was two weeks ago, and it already felt as if he had become a permanent member of the family. Giles had moved into the spare room and spent most of the time he wasn’t tutoring Buffy or helping out with household chores perusing the jobs section of the newspaper. Apparently, the salary paid to him by the Watcher’s Council was not particularly generous.

Giles eventually managed to secure himself a job interview at the local library. The morning of the interview, Buffy watched in amusement as Joyce fussed over him at breakfast, straightening his tie and practically force-feeding him breakfast. Buffy was starting to wonder if there was something going on between Giles and her mother and was almost certain after he hesitantly gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before bidding them both goodbye and leaving the house.

It was sweet, Buffy thought. If a little weird. Still, at least they seemed happy. It would be nice to see a happy ending, even if it wasn’t hers.

She sighed and stirred her cereal. Joyce fixed her with a stare that began to make her feel rather uncomfortable. “Mom?”

“Honey, is there something you want to tell me?”

“Huh?” Buffy stilled, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “No. Why?”

“It’s just,” Joyce said awkwardly, “you’ve been so down lately. I know things are difficult at the moment with school – or the absence of - and everything, but I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Buffy opened her mouth. Now was the perfect time to tell her mother. But the words that ended up coming out were, “Nothing’s wrong, Mom. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Joyce looked at her closely, and Buffy hoped what she had heard about being able to tell a pregnant woman from her eyes was a myth. “Because - well - you just seem so tired, and you’ve been at the comfort food a lot recently, and – you had that argument with that nice young man Spike who keeps dropping by and you won’t let in -”

“I’m fine, Mom.” Buffy’s voice came out sharper than she had intended.

Joyce sighed. “Buffy, I’m your mother. I know when you’re fine, and you’re far from it. I just don’t know exactly what’s wrong.” She paused. “All right. I’ll drop the subject for now, but you know you can always talk to me, honey.” She kissed her as she stood up. “About anything.”

Buffy thought about what her mother had said as she finished her breakfast and left the house for a walk to clear her head. She had missed the perfect opportunity to tell Joyce what was going on and she hated herself for it. But her fear of rekindling that disappointment in her mother had stopped her. She had been expelled twice, and even now that Joyce knew of the slaying and how it had been responsible for Buffy’s bad record, the scars were still there.

Tears suddenly welled in Buffy’s eyes as she crossed the road, and she had to stumble to a stop for lack of vision. Before she could wipe them dry and hurry off the road, a horn sounded alongside a squeal of brakes, and she knew no more.

-----

“Rupert!” Giles looked up as Joyce appeared round the corner, hurrying towards him. “Is she -”

“Buffy should be fine,” he assured her, clasping her hand and squeezing it for comfort. “She wasn’t hit too hard – and she’s tough. She’ll be all right.”

Joyce broke down into sobs and cried into his shoulder. “I was just so scared -”

“I know,” he murmured, just holding her. “But Buffy will be fine. You’ll see.”

Just then, the doctor came out. “How’s Buffy?” Giles asked as Joyce turned, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“Your daughter will be fine,” he addressed them together, obviously under the impression that they were both Buffy’s parents. “Just a mild concussion and a fractured wrist. And the baby is also fine, completely unharmed.”

There was a pause.

“Baby?” Joyce said blankly. “What baby?”

-----

Buffy was sleeping when they entered the ward. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and Joyce suspected this was the first time her daughter had slept properly in a while. Pale and still, dressed in a white hospital gown that made her look even paler, suddenly Buffy’s previously secret pregnancy was obvious.

Joyce collapsed onto a chair by her bed, tears starting to prick at her eyelids. “My poor, poor baby,” she murmured, cradling Buffy’s head in her arms. “Oh, Buffy, what have you done? You’re so young,” she said, choking back tears.

Giles was hovering awkwardly and rested a gentle hand on Joyce’s shoulder. He didn’t speak – no words were needed. She clasped the hand on her shoulder with one of hers and completely broke down.

Buffy slept for several hours. Joyce and Giles kept a constant vigil at her bedside, only moving when one went to get some coffee. Finally, she began to stir and Giles slipped outside to give Joyce and her daughter some privacy.

“Honey?” Joyce murmured as Buffy’s eyes flickered open. “It’s Mom. How are you feeling?”

“I -” Buffy looked around. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital, Buffy; a car ran into you. Don’t you remember?”

Buffy slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Am – am I okay?”

Joyce smiled sadly, understanding the anxiety in her daughter’s voice. “You’ll be fine. You both will.” She squeezed Buffy’s hand, and Buffy’s eyes widened as she realised Joyce knew.

“Mom, I – Please don’t be disappointed,” Buffy whispered, tears starting to well up.

“Oh, Buffy, is that why you didn’t tell me? You thought I would be disappointed in you?” Joyce had started to cry again now.

Buffy nodded. “Aren’t you?”

“No, honey, I’m not. I’m upset and I’m shocked and I’m confused, but you should have come to me.” Joyce pulled Buffy into her arms and rocked her as if she was a baby herself. “How far along are you?”

“Five months,” Buffy whispered.

“And – the father?”

“I don’t want to talk about that, Mom. Please.”

Joyce thought for a moment. “Buffy, did you tell anyone you’re pregnant?”

Slowly Buffy shook her head.

“Not even one of your friends?”

“No-one,” Buffy whispered.

“So you were all alone,” Joyce murmured. “Buffy, please, next time you have a burden you don’t feel you can share with me, please talk to one of your friends or someone about it. I hate the thought of you bearing it all on your own.”

But I’m always alone, Buffy thought. I’m always different. The Slayer. The first girl to have the baby of a man who died a hundred years ago. What’s the difference? It’s always me.

-----

The inevitable conversation with her friends wasn’t quite as painful as the one Buffy had shared with her mother. Although they were shocked, especially Willow, who thought Buffy ought at least to have let her best friend know she was seeing someone, none of them burst into tears on her and they all promised to help out when needed, babysitting or just lending a hand.

Buffy watched the expressions on their faces and when Xander frowned slightly and opened his mouth, Buffy saved him the trouble of asking.

“Before you ask, I don’t want to talk about the father. He is not to be mentioned again on penalty of getting your ass kicked by me. We clear?”

“Yes,” Xander assured her.

Maybe leaving them wondering about the baby’s paternity was not the best course to take, but Buffy didn’t know what else she could do. She didn’t want the truth known. It was easier this way.

Facing Angel, however, was torture. Buffy knew he would be deeply hurt by the fact that she had been seeing someone else (even if she hadn’t really known it was any more than just a dream at the time). She was not prepared for the look of utter betrayal that crossed his face when she told him. Angel stormed out of the room, leaving her in tears.

At least it was out in the open now. Although she had kept William/Spike a secret, she figured after this last confrontation no one would ever need to know, or find out, the truth.

She dug around in her wardrobe and found an old coat hanging in the back. It was thick and fur-lined and when Buffy buttoned it up, it just about concealed her pregnancy. Satisfied with her reflection, she headed towards the factory where she knew Spike would be.

He looked up as she entered, his face in an expression of surprise.

“Oh, it’s you. Lizzie – or would you prefer Buffy?”

“‘Slayer’ will do fine,” Buffy said.

“What do you want?” He gave her a searching look and Buffy shifted her weight slightly from one foot to the other, self-conscious. “Come to kill me?”

“No. I’m giving you a twenty-four hour warning. Leave my sight, leave my town, get out of my life.”

“Or what?” he retorted, a grin spreading across his face.

“Or I will kill you.”

“Will you really.” There was a touch of amusement in Spike’s voice. “What is your problem, Lizzie? Why is everything so different now?”

“Are you kidding me?” Buffy exclaimed. “You’re a dead man, William. You’re a vampire.”

“Your point being? You were willing to date Angel. Yeah, I know all about that. Why not me? I’ve known you for longer, loved you for much longer than he has.”

“You’re evil, Spike.”

“Aha!” Spike glared at her. “And so we have our answer, finally. That’s it? That’s the reason you’ve barely given me a chance? Well, so what? Oh, that’s right, you think I can’t love because I’m evil, right? Wrong! Wake up, Lizzie, I’ve been in love with you for over a century.”

“Maybe you think you are, Spike,” Buffy said. “Maybe to you it still feels like it, and maybe to you the memories of William are as real as the ones of last week. But you’re not William, and you never will be without a soul. You’re beneath me.”

Spike actually flinched and his eyes narrowed.

“And so, we’ve finally hit the nail on the head.” He pointed an accusatory finger in her face. “I’m not good enough for you because I don’t have a soul.”

“Without it, Spike, you’re just a demon in William’s body with his memories and some twisted semblance of his personality.”

He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her closer. “It’s not all black and white, pet. Look in my eyes. I can be the man you want.”

Buffy slowly shook her head. “William would never have grabbed me like that.”

“Tell me you don’t love me,” Spike whispered. “Look me in the eye and say it, and I’ll leave your life forever, I swear.”

Buffy tried to keep eye contact as she stammered, “I-I don’t.”

Spike shook his own head in disbelief. “Your eyes say different.”

“Just go, Spike. Please.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then released her. “As you wish.”

TBC …