Disclaimer: As always, not my vampires. Joss Whedon’s vampires.
 
And also, as always, reviewers rock my world.
 
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Chapter 17
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“Don’t I get to know where I’m taking you?” Spike asked. Buffy had ordered him to drive her somewhere soon after sunset on a night about a week after their last Scoobie meeting.
 
“No. What part of surprise are you not getting here?” she responded.
 
“Bloody maddening, you are,” he grumbled. She had clearly been keeping a secret from him since the night of the meeting. Although he sensed that it was a good secret, it was still driving him crazy with anticipation. “Where am I going again?”
 
“2439 Springside,” Buffy said, consulting a card from her purse. Spike wound his way through the streets until they came up in front of a small medical building.
 
“What’s this then?” Spike asked, bewildered.
 
Buffy grinned. “I managed to find a place to schedule my first ultrasound that has evening hours,” she said happily. “Apparently, I’m not the only woman whose husband is only available in the evenings.”
 
Spike’s eyes widened and his face burst out in a beautiful smile. “Ultrasound? You mean I’ll get to see it? Tonight?” He honestly hadn’t expected that he could be at any of the big doctor’s appointments, given his sunlight problem.
 
“Yep,” said Buffy. “I know you want to be involved. And I want you here. If anything is… unexpected, I need your support.”
 
“Oh, sweetheart,” Spike said, pulling her in for a kiss. Don’t know how much this means to me, pet.
 
I think I do, she thought back. The kiss went on for another minute until she reluctantly broke it off. “Come on so we won’t be late.”
 
“Hey, better give me that amulet,” he remembered. “Otherwise they won’t see anything.”
 
“Right, I forgot,” said Buffy. She pulled the chain over her head and gave it to Spike for safekeeping. They walked off toward the office, arm in arm. On the other side of the street the Kratash spies watched them from their car.
 
“Look!” said the male Kratash. “She just took something off and handed it to the vampire.”
 
“Can you see if she’s pregnant?”
 
“Too far away,” he said. “Her clothing seems looser though. She might be hiding her pregnancy under there.”
 
“What is this place?” asked the female Kratash, peering at the sign through the darkness.
 
“Some sort of medical building. We’ll have to find out what goes on here.”
 
“We should probably wait until later. Don’t want the vampire to sniff us out.”
 
“Agreed,” said the male. He started the car and drove off.
 
Unaware, Buffy and Spike went in and gave Buffy’s name at the reception desk. A few moments later, a nurse showed them into a room. Buffy was instructed to put on a hospital gown, and she ducked into a changing room while Spike paced around, idly examining equipment that he knew nothing about. When Buffy came back out in the unflattering gray gown he resisted the urge to snicker aloud. “Lovely getup, pet,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.
 
“Shut up, vampire,” she said with a mock frown. “Or I’ll schedule you for a prostate exam.”
 
“Oi! Don’t even joke about that, Slayer!” Spike said with a shudder. Buffy laughed and got comfortable on the examining table.
 
After a few minutes a young female technician came in. “Good evening. I’m Cathy,” she said cheerfully. “You must be Buffy?”
 
“Yes, and this is my husband William,” she said, trying to relax. She found herself very nervous all of a sudden.
 
“Now, just relax,” Cathy said, noticing her nervousness. “This is totally painless. Just getting a picture of how the baby is developing.”
 
“Will… will we be able to see if there’s anything wrong with it?” Buffy asked in a worried tone.
 
“Yes, but I really don’t think you have anything to be concerned about. According to your records, you’ve got nothing unusual going on and you’re healthy and fit. Now just relax, and we’ll get started.”
 
Buffy got settled and Spike moved over next to her to hold her hand. Gonna be ok, love. Don’t fret.
 
I’ll try, Buffy responded. “Ooh!” she squeaked as the technician squirted the lubricant on her belly.
 
“It’s not cold, is it?” Cathy asked.
 
“No. Just surprised me.”
 
“Ok, let’s see what we have here.” The technician adjusted some dials and soon a gray fuzzy image appeared on the screen. “Well, so far, I think it all looks good. See, here’s the head…” She pointed out all the features one by one.
 
Spike was utterly fascinated. “Can’t believe how much detail you can see,” he said in a voice full of wonder.
 
“I don’t know, it all looks sort of… blobby to me,” said Buffy doubtfully.
 
Spike laughed. “Blobby? Did you just call our kid blobby?”
 
“We actually hear that comment a lot,” Cathy laughed. “Do you want to know the sex?”
 
Spike and Buffy looked at each other. Do you? Buffy asked. I don’t think I can wait.
 
Me neither, he responded, smiling at her. Looking up at Cathy he said, “We can’t wait. We need to know.”
 
“Well, right now I would say that I am ninety percent sure it’s a baby girl,” Cathy answered. She proceeded to point out the evidence on the scan, but Spike found his brain fixating on that fact. A daughter. I’m going to be the father of a daughter. Bloody hell. A daughter. “Sir?”
 
Spike shook his head, realizing that she had asked him a question. “I’m sorry, I got a little distracted there.”
 
“It’s alright. I just asked if you had any more questions for me.”
 
“No, I think I’m ok. Buffy?”
 
“So everything looks normal? Healthy human baby and all that?” Buffy asked, still trying to shake the worry.
 
“All systems go,” Cathy said. “I’ll make sure your doctor gets a copy of the results. Why don’t you get dressed while I print out some shots for you to take with you, okay?”
 
“Thank you,” Buffy said. Spike thanked her as well. As soon as the technician left the room he scooped Buffy off the table and swung her around happily, setting her onto her feet and kissing her breathless. A girl! I can’t believe it, he thought.
 
Buffy melted at the joy and pride coming out of his mind. Love you so much, William Pratt.
 
Love you right back, Buffy Summers. After another kiss he wondered, Disappointed it’s not a boy? I know you had your heart set on another man about the house.
 
Not disappointed, she assured him silently. Completely relieved that it seems normal, and very happy. Not disappointed in the slightest. Although you may think otherwise when there are three Summers women bossing you around.
 
Risk I’ll have to take. He broke off the kiss, grinning from ear to ear before reluctantly let go of her so she could get dressed. He went out to the waiting room while she changed, and the technician found him there.
 
“Here’s the pictures. Congratulations, Mr. Summers.”
 
“I’m Mr. Pratt, actually, but thank you all the same,” he said. Buffy came out then and they said their goodbyes, with Spike holding the door for her to go out. He handed her the amulet. “Best put this back on, love. Gotta protect my girls.” She smiled and complied, holding his hand as they walked out to the car.
 
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“A girl! That’s so awesome!” Dawn squealed. They had patrolled after the appointment, and had found Dawn passed out on the couch in front of a movie when they came home. Now Buffy was sharing the pictures with Dawn over breakfast to the delight of the teen.
 
“Spike is beyond thrilled,” Buffy said. “He really wanted a girl. I would have taken either.”
 
“I can’t wait to do all the girl stuff with her!” Dawn said excitedly. “Although I hope she looks less like a bean or something when she gets bigger.”
 
Buffy laughed. “I thought she looked like the Blob, but the technician assured us she’s a normal baby girl.”
 
“I don’t see any horns or fangs, so I guess she’s right,” Dawn teased. “What are you going to name her?”
 
“We had settled on Emma Joyce for a girl,” said Buffy.
 
“Why Emma?”
 
“It was Spike’s sister’s name. Then Joyce after mom, of course.” Both girls got quiet for a moment at the mention of their mom. Buffy realized she was going to miss her mom more than ever when this child was born, and her eyes teared up a bit at the idea.
 
“I still miss her too,” said Dawn, hugging her sister. “I bet she would have been an awesome grandmother.”
 
“Yeah,” said Buffy. They held each other for a few minutes until the sadness passed. Sniffling slightly on both sides, they sat up and turned back to the pictures.
 
“What does Emma mean, anyhow?” Dawn asked.
 
“Not sure,” said Buffy. “Get that name book you got for Spike and we’ll look it up.”
 
Dawn went to retrieve the book from the living room and came back flipping through it. “Here. Emma. Says the origin is Latin, and it means ‘universal’.”
 
“Sounds like a heavy meaning for such a short name,” Buffy laughed. “What does Joyce mean?”
 
“Joyce. Well, it can either be Latin for ‘lord’ or an old English name meaning ‘experienced in battle’” Dawn said. “Either way, sounds weird for a girl’s name.”
 
“Well, mom seemed to live with it, so I guess Emma won’t suffer too much with that as a middle name,” Buffy concluded. “So do you like it?”
 
“Yes,” said Dawn. “It’s sophisticated, easy to spell and all that. Will she be a Summers or a Pratt?”
 
“She’ll be a Pratt. Spike has no family left, so he’d like someone to keep the name going.”
 
“Emma Pratt. Sounds very proper and British.”
 
“And she will be a proper British lass if I have anything to say about it,” said Spike as he came into the kitchen. “Big sis told you about our little girl, did she?” He stood behind Buffy, rubbing her shoulders with obvious pride. 
 
“Yeah. Congratulations! I think it will be awesome to have another girl in the house.” Dawn looked at her watch and jumped a bit. “Yikes! I’m going to be late for school. Gotta run! Congrats again!” She snagged her backpack and fled out the door, banging it behind her as she went.
 
“You’re up early,” Buffy commented. “Any particular reason?”
 
“A certain squealing sister-in-law with the power to wake the dead,” he said. “Glad she’s happy about our news.”
 
“Yep. She was looking up our baby name choices in that book she got you.”
 
“Oh?” said Spike, as he rummaged for breakfast. “What did she find?”
 
“Well, Emma means ‘universal’ and Joyce means ‘lord’ or something like that.”
 
“Universal Lord?” Spike said. “Kid’s gonna grow up with a superiority complex.”
 
“Well, names aren’t everything. I mean Buffy means…” She paused to look up her name. “God’s promise. I don’t think that’s all that relevant.”
 
“Well, God’s gift to lovesick vampires, maybe,” he smirked. “What’s my name mean?”
 
Buffy flipped through. “William. Means ‘protector’. Well that one seems dead on,” she said, smiling at him. “You protect me to the point of exasperation sometimes.”
 
“Sorry about that. Can’t help myself. Must be my destiny.” He sipped his blood with a smile. “So what are the plans today?”
 
“Well, I need to go do some grocery shopping, and I thought I would stop in at the Magic Shop to let Giles know the results of the ultrasound. Do you want to come, or stay around here?”
 
“Unless you need me, I think I’ll hang around here for the morning. I’ll even do some laundry. Just don’t tell the other demons.”
 
Buffy laughed. “You’re secret’s safe with me, Big Bad.” She stood between his knees and kissed him deeply. His hands found their way to her tummy, which was most definitely becoming round.
 
“Love the sight of you,” he murmured when they broke the kiss. He looked down with deep affection at her belly, reveling in the fact that it was full of his child. His daughter. Emma.
 
“Hope you still love the sight of me when I’m big as a house,” she said. But she knew full well that he meant every word, and she loved him for it. Their happiness was a feedback loop between them that went on for long minutes until she broke away with a smile. “I promise I’ll hurry home.”
 
“Do that, love,” he said. He went back to his blood and watched her fondly as she gathered her things, put on her amulet, and left.
 
Taking his mug of blood, Spike went upstairs and sat down at the desk in Joyce’s old room. They had moved it in there to provide a place to deal with bills and such, but today Spike sat down with the journal and fountain pen that Buffy had given him for Christmas. Opening it up to the first creamy white page, he began to write in his beautiful flowing script.
 
Dearest Emma,
 
Yesterday we found out that you are to be an Emma, rather than a William. I want to tell you my history, to let you know where you come from. You will probably hear all sorts of things about your father as you grow, some good, some bad, some terrible. But whatever you hear about me, I want you to know that you were conceived in love. Never wanted anything in the world as badly as I want to hold you and watch you grow. I’ve done many things in my long life, but you are the only miracle I’ve ever had a hand in bringing about, and it humbles me to think on it.
 
I was born in London, England in 1852, the eldest child of George and Anne Pratt. My sister Emma, for whom you were named, was born when I was four. My father was a banker. We weren’t poor, but we weren’t the upper crust either. You could call us middle class, but barely. Father was strict, quiet, and hard working. Mother was gentle and kind, and devoted to us children. Even though we had a governess, like every other child in our circle, our mother was involved in every aspect of our childhood. She loved us with all her heart, and we knew it.
 
Then there was our Emma. She was a beautiful little thing with golden curls who followed me about everywhere from the moment she learned to walk. Even my father couldn’t help but smile at her prattling little voice. She was the delight of the household. She charmed everyone, from the groom who cared for the carriage and horses to the scullery maid. She called me ‘Willum’ as a little lass, and never did quite correct her pronunciation. When I was twelve and she was eight, the whole family went down with influenza. My parents and I got better. Emma didn’t. It turned into pneumonia and she slipped away in about ten days. The whole house was in mourning for ages. I remember her in her casket, looking like a sleeping angel, and struggling not to break down into unmanly sobbing right there and then. But I did weep for her. We all did.
 
A few months later I was sent off to boarding school for the first time. I kept to myself for the most part. I know Father always dreamed of me following in his footsteps, but I had no love for banking. I loved languages and words. Your mother will say that’s why I talk so much, but I wanted to be a scholar, and later a poet. Father died when I was fifteen, and the inheritance was enough to support us while I was in school. I found work doing translation after I got out, working for a Barrister’s office. But mostly I cared for Mother, and wrote my poems. I dreamed about marrying a fine wife, and I dreamed about someday having a daughter to name for my sister. The fine wife took considerably longer than I expected, but now I find that the dream of a daughter is to come true. There are no words to express the joy that thought brings me.
 
I will continue to tell my story, while I wait for your coming. I hope someday you will see this and understand me better.
 
Your loving Papa.
 
Spike put down the pen and read what he had written. Generally he cringed at reading anything that came out of his pen. But for once, he was able to read his own words without shame or embarrassment. The words were authentic and true, and came from his heart. Carefully blotting the paper, he put the journal away to continue another day.
 
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The two Kratash demons sat on a bench, watching the front of the medical clinic. This was their third day of observation, and they noticed some patterns. Certain nurses went out to lunch at a regular time each day. Certain doctors worked afternoons only. They had finally come up with a way to get the information they needed. A pair of pretty young nurses left the building, walking off to lunch. As soon as they were off the property, the female Kratash got up and ducked behind some bushes. When she came back out, she was the duplicate of one of the nurses. “Wish me luck,” she said to her partner.
 
“Just don’t get caught,” he said curtly.
 
The female walked into the clinic. “I thought you went out to lunch, Jen,” said the receptionist.
 
The Kratash smiled. “Left something behind. Don’t worry – I won’t miss my lunch hour for anything!” The receptionist joined her in her laughter, then tended to her ringing phone.
 
The Kratash found the office where the records were kept. Rows of colored files lined the walls in alphabetical order. No one else was around, so she quickly scanned the letters to find ‘Summers, Buffy A.’. Opening the folder, she scanned the contents. The latest entry was for ‘Ultrasound – 20 weeks’. Nodding, she quickly returned the folder and left the building, waving cheerfully at the receptionist on her way out.
 
Outside she walked off in the direction the nurses had gone. Once out of sight of the building she saw her partner in the car at the side of the road. She looked around, saw no one, then got into the car. She morphed back into her usual form and said, “She was there for an ultrasound. The note said twenty weeks.”
 
“Normal human gestation is around 38 weeks,” mused the other Kratash. “Finally we have something concrete to report.” They drove off to find a quiet place to jump back to their dimension.
 
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“Do you have news for us, Kratash?” demanded the Ruler. “I grow impatient. We must know if the birth of the child will coincide with the appointed time.”
 
“I am pleased to report that my agents have gotten some definite news,” said the Kratash controller. “A few days ago the woman went to be examined. The records show that she is twenty weeks into her gestation. The child should be born in approximately eighteen weeks.”
 
The Ruler digested the information for a moment. “Excellent work. Continue to keep her under surveillance. We will need to be able to get to the child at the appointed time. Find a way past her wards.”
 
“Very good,” said the Kratash. He left the audience chamber as rapidly as dignity would allow. As soon as the door closed on him, the Ruler called to the guard standing to the side of the door. “Summon the Seer to my chamber,” she barked. The guard bowed and marched off. The Ruler waited, drumming her fingers impatiently on the arm of her chair.
 
After a long wait, the door opened and the Seer entered, tapping her way slowly along the stone floor to stand in front of the Ruler. “You have called me,” she said simply.
 
“The Kratash have determined that the child is to be born in eighteen weeks, according to the flow of time in the human dimension. How will this fit with our ritual?”
 
The Seer pulled a small pouch from her waist and opened it. She took out a strangely carved circular stone and laid it on the floor. She sat down in front of the stone and placed her hands above it, her sightless eyes facing dead ahead. She chanted a series of phrases until the stone began to glow with an eerie red light, turning her distorted, maimed face into a blood red mask. She spoke in a voice that echoed, stronger and lower than her normal aged speaking voice. “The ritual must be done on the night of the seventh full moon of their year. That is the day our gods will be waiting. That is the day the power can be channeled through you, oh Ruler.”
 
“Will the child be born in time?”
 
“It is possible. If not, there are other ways.”
 
“How will we get to the mother?”
 
“The portal spell will work for a small number of warriors for several days before the ritual. The others must wait in the space between for the ritual to occur. When the child has been sacrificed, the barrier between the worlds will be broken for all time.” The Seer angled her blind eyes upward toward the Ruler. “Our warriors will get the child. The ritual will be performed. The Dwak Dlam will triumph. I have foreseen it.” With that the light faded and the Seer folded at the waist, covering her face in exhaustion.
 
The Ruler pondered the Seer’s vision. “The Kratash will find a way for our warriors to get through the wards. The child will be ours,” she said with certainty. She clenched her fists and added silently, the Kratash must not fail.
 
TBC