[A/N: I know how agonizing this is for all of you, but believe me, it’s just as bad for me. I’m sorry. Hopefully, this chapter will make up for some of the wait. . . And if any of you remember, this format for this one will follow a previous chapter (way back in Revelations, Chapter 17, if you’re wondering), wherein Buffy and Spike got some other interesting news. Thanks for sticking with me and for everyone’s support, new readers and old . . . and for everyone that’s left a review, you have my eternal thanks. The beta was done, as always, by the incomparable Spikeslovebite, who is the best damn beta going. Titles and quotes belong to someone other than me (since I’m not so witty) and the disclaimers mean some guy in Hollywood gets to say he owns these characters. Which sucks.]

Previously: Willow’s being followed and ran to the one place she feels safe, but isn’t welcome. Giles got a visit from Graham; Travers contacted the Defence Minister and had Nicholson activate the wetworks teams; while Lawson is doing his best to keep all the friendly demons occupied with watching everything. Lastly, but not leastly, Buffy is in heavy labor and about to give birth. (This chapter will skip around a bit, backtracking and then moving forward.)

Book Three

Chapter Twenty-four. Welcome to the human race


Children are the only form of immortality that we can be sure of.
Peter Ustinov

A new baby is like the beginning of all things — wonder, hope, a dream of possibilities.
Eda Le Shan, The Conspiracy Against Childhood 1967


Where did you come from, baby dear?
Out of the everywhere into the here.
Where did you get those eyes so blue?
Out of the sky as I came through.
What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?
Some of the starry spikes left in.
Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.
What makes your forehead so smooth and high?
A soft hand strok’d it as I went by.
What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?
I saw something better than any one knows.
Whence that three-corner’d smile of bliss?
Three angels gave me at once a kiss.
Where did you get this pearly ear?
God spoke, and it came out to hear.
Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into bonds and bands.
Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs’ wings.
How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.
But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here.
George Macdonald, Baby

Welcome to the human race
with its wars, disease and brutality
you with your innocence and grace
restore some pride and dignity
to a world in decline
Welcome to a special place
in a heart of stone that’s cold and grey
you with your angel face
keep the despair at bay
send it away, and
show me the meaning of the word
show me the meaning of the word
‘Cause I’ve heard so much about it
I don’t want to live without it
I don’t want to live without it
Oh, I want love, I want love, I want love
Welcome here from outer space
the milky way still in your eyes
you found yourself a hopeless case
one seeking perfection on earth
that’s some kind of rebirth, so
show me the meaning of the word
show me the meaning of the word
‘Cause I’ve heard so much about it
don’t make me live without it
don’t make me live without it
Oh, love, I want love, I want love, I want love
Chrissy Hynde, Show Me, from the Album Learning to Crawl, 1984




“What do you think is going on upstairs?” Connor sat in front of the television, the soundtrack just loud enough to drown out any possible screams, though his mind was obviously not on the movie. Dawn was no better off, constantly shifting and fidgeting, unable to sit still.

“How should I know?” Irritation laced her tone. “They won’t let me anywhere near the door.”

“Yeah. But you’re a girl. You should know this stuff.” His leg bounced once, twice, then settled into a steady rhythm.

“Are you nuts? Just because I’m a girl. . . that’s completely sexist, you jerk.” Dawn smacked him with a pillow, uncurled her legs and stomped into the kitchen. “I don’t just know this stuff.”

He somehow managed to look a bit contrite, though Dawn wasn’t fooled at all. Connor had followed her into the kitchen, though neither of them knew why. Dawn was just looking for something to do and Connor was anxious – neither of them wanting to admit they were worried.

There was a loud thump from somewhere over their heads, freezing both of them. Connor glanced at Dawn, and in the next heartbeat, both were bolting for the stairs. As they were fighting to be the first one to the second floor, a piercing wail split the silence.


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Buffy no longer had any concept of time; everything was reduced down to the next – the next breath, the next pain. She was shaking, straining against the pressure, battling her own body.

Grace had told her to push only when she felt the urgency, otherwise she could let her body do all the work on its own. The stately witch was wearing a watch around her neck, and every once in a while Buffy would catch her glancing at it. Grace’s watch was the only working timepiece in the room. First thing she’d done was unplug Buffy’s alarm clock. The second had been to set up a nest on the floor. Hospital pads lined the bed and nest, everything else they might need was organized on the dresser.

Somehow - Buffy didn’t remember when – Kait had entered the room and now the two witches were sitting on the floor, chatting softly. Tara was in the bathroom, getting the tub ready to wash the newborns, occasionally adding something to the witches’ conversation. Spike was sitting behind her, knees bent on either side, shielding her as well as giving her something to hold onto.

His hands brushed over her belly, his unnecessary breathing keeping time with hers. A low rumble gathered and rolled through his chest, thrumming into her skin. Strange pressure pulled at her and Buffy felt like her groin was going to slowly explode. “Spike, I need to move.”

“All right, sweetheart.” He maneuvered out from behind her, then helped her to her feet. Once she was upright, he held her hands, facing her. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Buffy took a deep breath. This was better, but still not what. . . . “I wanna move. Can I move?”

Graced looked up from her position on the floor, “Let’s take a look before you walk around, okay?”

Suiting actions to words, Grace scooted over to Buffy. Gently guiding her legs a part, she peered between Buffy’s thighs. “No walking, toots.”

“Why?” Spike crouched behind Grace, watching everything she did. She took his hand, pulling him down to his knees and guided his fingers over Buffy’s vaginal area.

“Feel that?” The witch glanced at him over her shoulder. At his nod, she continued. “That’s the first baby’s head.”

Spike left his fingers there, tracing the new curves and the slick slippery mess covering the baby bump. Lifting his head, he gazed up at Buffy. “Jesus Christ, pet.”

“What?” There was panic in her question and Grace quickly answered, soothing her somewhat.

“Everything’s fine. It’s just that one of our new arrivals is ready to enter the world. You need to push just a little bit.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



“This is very exciting. Isn’t it?” Anya was chattering away, successfully distracting Giles from the dire thoughts ranging through his brain. “I haven’t been near a birth since. . . “ she thought hard for a moment, then smiled brightly. “It was probably sometime in 1784. Some Frenchwoman had just given birth to her fourteenth – or was it fifteenth? – child and she called for a vengeance demon.”

Attention fully caught, Giles couldn’t help himself from asking the inevitable question. “Why is that?”

“It seems her husband had wanted boys, and, well, that baby was her tenth daughter. The husband had told her to rest up because he wanted to try again. She wasn’t very happy.”

Anya’s grin was infectious and Giles couldn’t help the amusement from showing on his face. “I’d imagine she was less than thrilled with him.”

“She was. That’s why she called for vengeance.” A sudden thought struck her and she reached for Giles’ free hand. “You know, this is so different.”

“Why is that?” She had him confused again. Giles glanced over and caught the slight frown now marring her features.

“Xander wouldn’t have wanted to hear this. He would have just told me to shut up and not talk about it.” She squeezed his hand, then let go as he struggled to shift gears. “Thank you, Rupert.”

“For what?” Giles eased the car into the driveway, parking it smoothly.

Anya was still talking as they closed the car doors. “For letting me be myself.”

Her plaintive tone was enough to get him moving, and Giles folded her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “I much prefer you to be yourself, dear.”

They broke apart, moving in unison to the porch. Loud thumping sounded behind the door, and they exchanged a look before Giles reached for the doorknob. As he opened the door, the audible wail of a newborn infant reached their ears, and Anya clapped him on the back, squealing almost as loudly. “Rupert! We’re just in time!”

As they crossed the threshold, the source of the thumping became evident, since Dawn and Connor were in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, both looking a bit worse for wear. Giles’ reaction was a mere shaking of his head and the admonition was more in his dry tone than his words. “Do get up, both of you.”

Another cry sounded from the second story and this time, everyone scrambled for the stairs. Anya hopped over Dawn, landing on the second step, and reached out to grab Rupert’s hand. “You’re going to be a grandfather!”

All three of them laughed outright at his indignant expression, then laughed even harder when his feet and Connor’s got tangled up together and Giles landed on his butt in the middle of the hallway.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Harsh, rapid panting filled the room, punctuated by grunts and gasps of pain. Buffy was crouched on the floor, resting almost atop Spike, his legs and lower body supporting her. His arms were wrapped around her, their hands clasped just beneath her breasts. Grace kept up a low litany of instructions, letting them know how close they were. Kait hovered off to her right, ready to take over after the first baby was born. Tara was leaning against the bathroom door, her eyes focused on Grace.

“Just a little bit longer, sweetie. Baby’s head is pushing through.”

“Easy for you to say,” Buffy growled. “You’re just standing by.”

“None of this is easy.”

A bitter, exhausted laugh escaped Buffy. “Ohkay. Wanna switch?”

“And spare you the pain?” At Buffy’s enthusiastic nod, Grace chuckled. “Not a chance, cupcake. I’ve already made my contribution to humanity.”

Buffy muttered, “meanie,” just as another strong contraction ripped through her, elongating the word. “Yeeeooooooowwwwaaahhhh!”

Grace ducked her head, crowing excitedly as the first baby’s head emerged. “Stop! Don’t push!”

An inarticulate moan of disagreement burst from Buffy’s mouth, ending in a strangled scream of frustrated pain.

The midwife was quiet, and no one dared breath. All attention was riveted on Grace, who was crooning wordlessly. Buffy felt a wrenching tug, like her entire body was being pulled inside out, then a rush of fluids and finally, the sound of high-pitched squalling filled the room.

“Well, hello there, baby. Welcome to the world.”

Grace lifted her eyes to see both blonds staring at her. “Guess who’s here?”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Spike was supporting all of her weight, his thighs and lower back tensing and spasming from the position he was forced to maintain. Buffy’s legs were practically draped over his thighs, their hands clasped together just beneath her breasts. His entire body was strained, and he kept a count of her heartbeats, countered with her panting breaths. Gasp, beat, gasp. . . beat. He had to, because the demonic part of him was pushing, swimming just under his skin, howling to be freed. The scents clouding the air, the tension of his woman, the pulsing heartbeats. . . surrounded him, drowning him in emotions. Emotions he ached to taste, to feel, to be a part of, to revel in. Each noise that escaped Buffy sounded a clarion in his ears and he was overwhelmed . . . The nearest he could liken it to was the first time he’d heard a full, electrified orchestra, the sound turned up so loudly his ears rang for days. Or when he was at Woodstock and the drugs made him see colors that didn’t exist before that moment.

Everything was . . . it was too much and yet, at the same moment, not enough.

He wanted to be where he was, holding her, feeling the life flow from her body and at the same time he wanted to be where Grace was, watching the life come from her. Spike wanted to be everywhere, see everything. But mostly, he wanted to take the pain wracking Buffy, contorting her insides, making her shake and shudder as she forced his children from her womb.

Grace’s voice was a distant murmur, something he heard, but could not comprehend as his perceptions narrowed down to the sound of Buffy’s heartbeat. She was sweating heavily, her entire body awash in fluids, drenching the both of them. They were skin to skin now, the shirt Grace had given Buffy discarded because of need.

Spike had been living in a haze, not really believing this moment would ever come to pass. He’d known, intellectually what it meant for Buffy to be pregnant; hell, he’d lived through the aches, the morning sickness, the cravings, the mood swings, all of it, like a man in denial. Patience he’d never called on had been a constant companion, though he’d never betrayed once to Buffy all the fears and confusion her miraculous announcement engendered. It was enough for him that Buffy had come back from the dead. More than enough for him to share her life. . . And beyond his wildest expectations for them to be in a relationship.

This?

This moment was something he’d long given up dreaming of.

And yet here he was, Buffy draped over him, body stressed and trembling, waiting for his children – children – to enter the world.

An ironic chuckle gurgled in his throat and Spike fought the urge to collapse in nervous laughter. If only his mother could see him now. . .

The cessation of all noise and the hushed suspension of Buffy’s entire body brought him from his distraction. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and she shuddered, nearly coming apart in his embrace. A low, desperate moan burst from Buffy’s mouth, ending in a strangled scream of frustrated pain.

The witch was crooning again, soft, hushed words and then she was quiet. Spike found his eyes drawn to her, unable to look away; but her attention wasn’t on him. Wasn’t on Buffy, either.

Her attention was on the squalling, wriggling red-faced infant cradled in her capable hands. “Well, hello there, baby.” She brushed a hand over the baby’s face, cleaning off some of the fluids. “Welcome to the world.”

Spike’s unneeded breath was choked in his throat and tears filled his gaze. Grace finally looked up and smiled, addressing her comments to them. “Guess who’s here?”

She held the baby up, and Spike’s legs finally gave out.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Guns. . . Black-suited. . . Kevlar suits. Unknown men. Military guy with sandy brown hair. . . .

Spike. . .

Buffy, in tears, in pain. . . . hurting.

Dawn, yelling. . . Giles. . .

Voices, yelling, talking over and over and no words, no sounds. . .


One crisp flash of pain arced through her brain, blinding in its intensity, then faded off like a distant thunderstorm, leaving the white noise of nothingness behind. Cordelia ran a tired hand over her brow, pushing her dark hair back behind an ear. She closed her eyes, letting her brain recover from the vision, gather the strings of disjointed information into a little ball so that she could process it; make sense of it.

It certainly wasn’t the first vision she’d had since her rescue, but it was the only one she was willing to share. For one thing, it wasn’t about her, and for another Cordy felt she owed more than a bit of gratitude to Buffy and Spike.

She glanced over at her dinner companion, knowing what she was about to tell him would probably cause a fight. A little sigh escaped her. Xander had been wonderful, both while she was in the hospital and now, since she’d come back to Los Angeles. He understood, without her needing to explain, why she never wanted to set foot in Sunnydale ever again. He gave her space, let her set the pace of their . . . well, whatever it was they had. Friendship, definitely. More? Cordelia doubted she’d be up for any of that for a very, very long time. And it seemed Xander was okay with that. Another sigh escaped her. Subject, Chase, stick to it. . .

“Xander?” Cordelia put her fork down, waiting patiently for him to pay attention. “You need to go back to Sunnydale.”

“What? What the hell for?” He dropped his own fork, wincing when it clattered against the china, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Keep your voice down.” She very nearly hissed that at him, leaning forward over her own plate. “We’re in a restaurant. Try to remember that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Xander glanced around, smiling apologetically at the people closest to them. “Fine. I’ll be quiet, but only if you tell me why the hell you want me to leave you.”

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Cordelia fought the urge to smack him. “That’s not why you need to go back.” Under her breath she muttered, “dumbass,” just because it needed saying.

“Buffy’s in trouble.” When Xander angrily pushed back the chair, she reached out over the table to grab his hand. “Wait. It’s not what you’re thinking. Buffy and Spike are both in trouble. They need your help.”

He snorted once, the noise ending in a bitter laugh. “Sure, Cordy, they need me. They’ve never needed me.” Xander didn’t bother telling her that he wouldn’t walk across the street to help Spike, much less travel a couple of hours. “Gimme one good reason why I should bother.”

“I can give you more than one, dork brain.” Cordelia tightened her grip on his wrist when he tried pulling away. “They saved me. That’s really the only reason you need, isn’t it?”

“I was there, too!”

She rolled her eyes again. “I know that.” How am I going to make him understand. . . “Xander, “ Cordelia stared at him, floundering for a way to appeal to his better nature. Yes, Spike had done some pretty awful things, but . . . he’d also done some pretty good things. And Buffy? Lighting on an idea, Cordelia started in again. “You won’t really be helping just Spike, you know. Buffy needs your help. There aren’t many people she can trust. And if what I saw comes true, she’s going to need everyone’s help.”

The inner battle Xander waged was written on his expressive features. Cordelia waited, hoping – praying – he’d make the right choice. She kept her silence, knowing anything else she said might backfire and keep Xander from doing the right thing. When he glared at her, Cordelia knew he’d chosen.

Without saying another word to him, she motioned to their waiter for the check.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Buffy felt Spike’s legs give out, and she clutched at his thighs, her fingertips digging into the corded muscles standing out from the strain. He slid down the wall gracefully, mindful of her precarious and still gravid state. She was still draped all over him, their torsos nearly glued together from the sweat standing out on her body and Buffy was more than aware of the second infant swimming in her belly.

Grace was on her knees, barely inches away from her splayed legs and all Buffy could do was stare at the tiny form in her hands. Buffy wiped a cramped hand over her face, hair sticking to her everywhere and then, forcefully relaxing her hands and arms, she reached for the baby.

“Gimme.” Okay, so it wasn’t clear, the words sounding better and not garbled in her head, but Grace understood her all the same. Buffy couldn’t tear her eyes away from the slimy, wailing baby, and she trembled; a long, slow, tremor wracking her body. “Oh, my God.”

She didn’t know what to say, to think, to feel. Every emotion she’d ever. . . waves of differing feelings surged through her and Buffy touched a finger to the baby’s face. It calmed, little mouth forming a tiny, itty-bitty circle and she burst into tears. The tears somehow became quavering laughter when something warm and wet hit her belly and she glanced further down to see what had splashed her.

“Spike!” His body tensed beneath her again and Buffy quickly covered the baby’s bottom. “It’s a boy! He’s got a penis!“


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



She gave a good imitation of growl when she wanted to, his Slayer. Spike rested his head back against the wall, his eyes riveted to the squalling, scrunched up features of the tiniest human he’d ever seen. Grace’s hands completely covered the infant, stretching from cheek to toes. He’d never been on such a roller-coaster of emotion in his entire existence; his emotions running the gamut from elation to abject terror.

At this very instant, though, he was just . . . Spike realized he must be coasting on the most intense high of his life, and he couldn’t quite make sense of what was going on around him. Buffy had just growled at Grace, demanding the infant. It was now nestled in her embrace, tucked up in her arms. The baby was still crying, but as Buffy touched the tiny cheek – it was smaller than her finger! – the little mite stopped. He could smell the tears, hear the tiny hiccuped breath Buffy emitted and he started to tighten his arms around her. Her exclamation of his name halted his movement, and Spike inhaled deeply, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

When it did, he could barely contain his amusement. “He’s got a penis!”

He finally glanced down a the baby, his brain registering what his eyes had already seen.

There, looking decidedly unremarkable and rather big for such a small baby, was the evidence of his son’s gender.

Holy. . . Sweet Mother of God.

Spike gaped down at the baby for long moments. He felt like he was moving in deep waters, where there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to do but float and hope for the best. . . His left hand stroked up the baby’s leg, reveling in the desperately soft skin.

A boy. . .

He’d been prepared for a girl. . .

A boy.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Grace stifled the joyful laughter bubbling inside of her, knowing neither of the two superblondes would appreciate her amusement at their expense. She’d known right away that neither of them realized the child was a boy, since their eyes hadn’t strayed from the baby’s face. Buffy’s utter surprise was priceless to see when the baby decided to mark his territory.

Typical to form, the baby had peed almost immediately. She’d done a quick check of all his vitals, making sure all was well with him and hadn’t even reacted when the Slayer had growled at him. Girl has no idea what she’s just unleashed on the world. . . Slayer with children? Mama bears have nothing on this one. . .

It was Spike’s reaction, though, that had Grace sniffling away her own tears. There was so much emotion. . . absolute awe written on his features, she’d had to look away. Her gaze collided with Kait’s and she knew the other woman had picked up on what she’d felt also. If ever she doubted Spike’s emotions or feelings for Buffy, all that was laid, finally, eternally to rest. He adored her. Loved every bit of her and he’d do no less for their children.

Children. . .

Oh, dear Gods!

Sending up a small prayer that all would go well for the next part, Grace motioned for Tara to come further into the room. Quietly, so as not to overly disturb the new family, Grace outlined her plans for the next stage of Buffy’s labor. She should still be having contractions, heavy ones, but it seemed that all had quieted for now; a situation neither Grace nor Kait was pleased about. The second baby needed to be delivered, and soon.

Bracing herself, Grace retook her position on the floor in front of the two. “Buffy? You need to get ready. We have to do some work to bring baby number two, okay?”

Dazed and more than just a bit befuddled, Buffy finally registered what Grace was saying. “What?”

“Here.” Grace repositioned the baby in Buffy’s arms, aligning his mouth with her nipple. “We just need to get things started again. This will help everyone.”

The baby needed very little prompting. His mouth latched onto Buffy, clamping down, causing his mother to squeak in surprise. Grace wrapped a towel around them, tucking the ends in between their bodies. She had no idea how long this might take, whether Buffy’s body would take the cue quickly and recommence contracting or more would be needed. “Spike, when you can, you need to lift her up and get into the position again.”

His low expletive wasn’t as raunchy as she’d expected, though it was probably due more to his emotional state than any real fatigue. “Balls.”

“I know,” she soothed him as she patted his knee. “But we’re halfway there, so this part shouldn’t be as bad.”

“Right.” He inhaled deeply, a smile blooming slowly on his face. “He’s perfect, isn’t he?”

Grace couldn’t deny the truth. “He is. Now we just need to get his sibling here, too.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Buffy was staring down at the scrunched, red face of her child, no one coherent thought racing through her head. Everything was jumbled, confused. She almost didn’t, couldn’t wrap her head around what had just happened. They had . . . she had. . . He was perfect, even covered in icky, slimy blood and other stuff she didn’t want to think about, this baby was still perfect.

A hysterical giggle bounced around in her throat and Buffy realized in the same instant she was fighting tears. Whoa, mood swing. She couldn’t focus on anything and it wasn’t until she heard Grace calling her name, that she stopped looking at the baby. “Buffy? You need to get ready. We have to do some work to bring baby number two, okay?”

Work? What work?

Unable to make sense of Grace’s words, Buffy just stared at her. “What?”

“Here.” Buffy felt Grace shifting the baby, aligning his mouth with her nipple. “We just need to get things started again. This will help everyone.”

“Ooohh!” His mouth latched onto Buffy, clamping down harder than she expected. Buffy’s world narrowed even further, not going past the infant suckling at her breast and she vaguely heard the conversation between Spike and Grace. She couldn’t focus on anything other than the baby, nothing else existed beyond him for long moments, until a sharp pain brought her back into her body.

“Owww!”

“It’s alright, Buffy, just let the pains wash over you.” Grace’s voice was steady, lulling her into a false sense of security.

“That’s what you said last time.”

Low laughter greeted her retort, and Grace reached up to take the baby. “True, but it was all worth it, right?”

Buffy ignored the question, focusing instead on the baby. “Where are you taking him?”

“Nowhere for the moment.” The baby was once again in her arms, only this time with his head on her other breast. “Just need to shift him. He’s gonna help bring his sibling into the world, like any good big brother.”

This time, he needed no guidance to find his mother’s nipple, his mouth aiming for her unerringly. He suckled hungrily, little tiny grunting noises escaping from him and his legs thumping against her belly. Buffy smiled, brushing her hands over his face. Spike’s voice rumbled in her head and she turned to look at him.

“Bloody hell, Buffy. Never. . . “ he lapsed into silence, one of his hands covering hers, their fingers entwining.

“Me either.”

They both felt her body contract, the muscles in her womb responding to the stimulation of the baby’s nursing. “Whoa.”

“That’s good, Buffy.” Grace watched her carefully, timing the new contractions. She wanted to make sure the labor was steady and strong before taking the first baby away. “Let him go as long as you can.”

Her only answer was a low grunt. Buffy could already feel this time was different, everything seemed more urgent. “Grace. Oh. . . take him.”

She tried to hold the baby out so Grace could take him, but her arms suddenly wouldn’t support him. “I need to push, now!”

“All right sweetie, I’ve got him.” Grace took the infant, swiftly handing him over to Tara. “Wash him up good, and make sure you retie the cord.”

Buffy’s cry of pain caught everyone by surprise and before Grace could turn around and see to her, she was growling. One look at her face and there was no question this baby was going to be faster than its older sibling. “All right, start pushing.”

“I am!” And she was. Buffy was bearing down heavily, her fingers already digging into Spike’s forearms. “Aaauuuggghhh!”

Spike tensed beneath her, fighting with himself to maintain control. Buffy’s pain was calling to him, and he briefly burst into game face, though no one in the room even noticed, except for her.

It was over in a rush. Just as Buffy thought she couldn’t take much more, that familiar pulling sensation occurred and she dropped into it, letting nature and gravity take over. The gush of fluids was the same, only this time there wasn’t any more pressure, just an empty, hollowed out feeling. Grace barely had time to clean off the baby’s face before Buffy was reaching, arms outstretched to take the baby from her.

Spike, however, had been watching the baby, paying no attention to the witch holding her. “Buffy, Buffy, look.”

“What?” She glanced back at him, a wild look in her eyes.

“It’s a girl.”




Whew. . . okay. . . so how was that? I'd love to hear from some of your reactions to this, coz believe me it wasn't easy.