full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
 
Check Mate by Xela
 
Part IX
 
<<     >>
 
“YOU BASTARD!” Buffy yelled as a contraction ripped her in half. It hurt. A lot. A lot more than ten minutes ago. She tensed as another one started to build, and felt something give in Spike’s hand. Good. Bastard deserved it.

She rode out that last one and turned angry green eyes on her mate. Spike’s blue eyes were wide with pain, and he cowered under Buffy’s angry gaze. A brassed off pregnant slayer was a scary thing to behold. The bones in his hand crunched again when another one of the splitting contractions surged through his mate.

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh!” Buffy had never felt anything like this before. Her little precious baby wasn’t precious anymore. A woman had to have written that Alien movie Xander loved to watch so much, because only a woman would understand what it felt like to have a living parasite trying to claw its way out of your belly. “Get it out get it out get it out!”

Joyce rubbed her daughter’s back soothingly, trying to calm her down.

“I’m going to call the doctor!” Dawn announced, scurrying into the other room, Buffy’s cries echoing in her ears. She was way too young for childbirth.

“I’m going to push, am I supposed to push? It hurts, Mommy!” Buffy was clinging to her mother, blubbering and generally being a wuss about the entire childbirth. Joyce was in turns amused and concerned for her eldest daughter. There was so much uncertainty surrounding this pregnancy and birth, Joyce was actually surprised with how well Buffy was holding up. She’d been pregnant for a good five minutes before being launched into the late stages of labor. Even for a slayer, that was asking a lot.

“Don’t push yet, just let it flow through you,” Joyce murmured, running her hands through Buffy’s head.

“Don’t push? But I’m supposed to push! They tell you to push! There’s this whole Lamaze thing that’s all about push—ah!” Buffy doubled over, wincing with the force of the contractions. Tara shared a concerned look with Joyce; the contractions were irregular and very strong.

“You don’t need to push until the very last part,” Joyce explained, keeping eye contact with Tara. “This part is just about getting your body ready.”

“I’m ready! I’m all with the ready!” Buffy sucked in some much needed breaths, dreading the next contraction. She was suddenly aware of her mate behind her, nuzzling into her neck and sending her soothing vibes of love and tenderness through their bond. Buffy gratefully relaxed back into him, savoring the feelings that seeped through her at his touch.

Spike closed his eyes and turned his considerable concentration solely to his mate. He knew something about childbirth, and the tension and worry coming through the bond were not of the good. He concentrated on relaxing her, trying to allow her body time to regulate itself and regulate her contractions. He insinuated himself in her mind, touching all of the spots that radiated calm and love. Slowly, one by one, their muscles relaxed together. He shared in Buffy’s pain, effectively halving it, and his mere presence bolstered the slayer’s resolve. The contractions slowed a little, regulating themselves as the slayer and her mate gave themselves over to the inexorable pull of labor. He felt her silent, unneeded thanks, acknowledging it with a smile.

Joyce watched the couple with concern in her eyes, still tense even after Buffy’s contractions began slowing down and evening out. Once she ascertained that everything was alright, checking with Tara for confirmation, she and Spike guided Buffy around the room, allowing gravity to give what aid it could. They worked in tandem, keeping Buffy calm and giving her support though her contractions, allowing her body to take the necessary steps and prepare itself for child birth. Tara was still a little worried; Buffy’s contractions were scarcely three minutes a part; that was a pretty advanced state of labor to just throw one’s body into.

It took Rose twenty minutes to reach the Summer’s residence, speeding the entire way. The message Buffy’s sister had left her was hysterical and garbled. She was let into the house by a pale, scared-looking boy, whom she promptly forgot about upon seeing Buffy, hugely pregnant and obviously in labor. So maybe the message hadn’t been quite that garbled.

“What the hell happened?” she exclaimed incredulously. So much for her professional decorum.

“Tiny demons, spells, labor. Lots of painful labor,” Buffy ground out, tensing as her body tried to push the life within her out. It snapped Rose out of her stupor and into Doctor mode. She checked Buffy’s pulse, got caught up on her contraction history (and a brief run down of everything that had occurred that night), checked Buffy’s cervix and listened to the baby’s heart rate.

“You’re almost fully dilated; couple more inches to go, it won’t take long if things progress as they have. The baby’s heart rate is a little elevated, but nothing abnormal. So as soon as your contractions speed up…we’ll be delivering your baby.” Buffy simply nodded, too tired to talk. She was starting to wish for a couple of Polgara demons instead of this whole life-giving deal.

While Buffy was busy getting up to full dilation, Rose was marshalling the troops. She sent Tara and Joyce to clean and prepare the upstairs bathroom and fetch some fresh towels. Giles was off boiling some water on Rose’s order, and Dawn was hovering nervously when Buffy announced her readiness.

“Spike!” Buffy shrieked as an extra painful contraction seared through her. It was the Mack Daddy of all contractions, putting everything she’d just been through to utter and complete shame. “SPIKE!” Another caught her unawares, only a few seconds after her last one. She tried to catch her breath, but the fucking pains in her stomach wouldn’t go away. Spike was saying something, but she didn’t want to hear it. So she turned and growled at him.

“Rose!” Spike yelled. He’d briefly considered being super aroused by Buffy’s growl, but then she’d done it again as soon as those thoughts had filtered through their extremely open bond and he’d decided not to go there. He winced as another contraction ripped through them, though he knew without a doubt that he wasn’t feeling anything close to what Buffy was. He coaxed Buffy into a crouch, keeping her from falling over.

Rose quickly assessed the situation. Buffy was at full dilation and her contractions were right on top of each other. Time to move to the bathroom. Joyce followed as Spike slowly helped Buffy up the stairs, getting detailed instructions from Doctor Rose.

“Alright, Spike, lift her into the bathtub. Good. Buffy, you’re going to want to crouch down. Hold onto the railing and the side, Spike’s going to support your back.” Rose climbed into the other side of the tub, easing the loose skirt Buffy was wearing off of her hips. “From here on, you need to push, alright?”

***

Dawn winced as another scream reverberated through the house. Buffy had been up there for over an hour. Xander and Willow had taken the little kids to “get some ice cream,” though the trip wasn’t JUST for Jason and Christopher. Dawn glanced over Anya and Giles, who seemed cool as cucumbers. She resumed her pacing, flinching when Buffy screamed something her mother was definitely going to rebuke her for later, followed by some very creative threats that could only have been directed at Spike.

“Think Buffy will finally dump Spike for this?” Xander asked with fake hope. Giles and Dawn leveled him with unimpressed (and unamused) looks. “What? It was a joke…” Giles just sighed and cleaned his glasses while Dawn capitalized on the opportunity to practice her Death Glare on her not-brother.

“You are such an ass sometimes,” Dawn growled. To be fair, Xander didn’t exactly deserve her ire (this time), but she needed to be mad at someone, and he won. “Really, why can’t you just grow up and—do you hear that?”

Both men regarded the middle Summer’s child warily. Dawn was scary when she was like this. The men were faced with a choice—to answer or not to answer.

“What?” Giles ventured, deciding to brave Dawn’s wrath. Not answering could bring just as much retribution as answering, so they were fairly screwed either way.

“Silence.” They all paused to assess that, yes, it was eerily silent in the house right now. And then the loud, unmistakable cry of a newborn filled the air. “Oh my god!”

Dawn raced up the stairs, the two men hot on her heels. They were just in time to see Spike carry an exhausted Buffy into her old room. Joyce followed, carrying…

“Anne Kendra Pratt-Summers,” Joyce announced softly, looking into the face of her first grandchild.

***

Buffy gazed at her daughter with delight on her face. Anne giggled happily, her pudgy arms and legs flailing. Buffy stifled her own giggled as her mate, William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, pulled faces at a newborn and acted as if her laughter was the most precious thing in the world.

It is.

Buffy’s gaze snapped to his, her eyes misty at the sheer volume of truth behind his words.

“I love you,” she whispered, feeling for the first time like those words lacked meaning and power. But the expression that lit Spike’s face was worth it.

“I love you too.” He kissed her, sweet and tender, like a couple of innocent middle schoolers who had just stolen their first kiss. Anne reminded them they were far from innocent, grabbing one finger from each of her parents. They marveled at their little miracle; after all that mucking about, she’d still turned out perfect. “While I love the Bitty, let’s take precautions that I don’t end up pregnant next time, yeah?”

“Next time?” Buffy growled, her tone low and deadly.
 
<<     >>