Chapter Nine: Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

"She had a seizure?"

"Last night," Buffy answered immediately, her voice laden with stress and duller, thinner than usual because of it.

As she spoke with Doctor Welby, she painfully twisted her fingers together. Sensation was good. Sensation meant that she wasn't stuck in a perpetual nightmare, that the events unfolding themselves around her were real, and, though she didn't particularly want to face the events, it was better for her daughter that she did instead of hiding from them. Pain had always motivated her into action in the past. The present proved no different.

"I was sleeping, and something woke me up. It was like I just knew that there was something wrong with her. By the time I ran into her room, she was already seizing, so I rolled her over, made sure she didn't choke, and then stayed up with her all night. I waited to call this morning, because I knew there was nothing the emergency room could have really done for her besides run a bunch of tests that you already have, and I wasn't going to put her through unnecessary suffering."

"No, you did exactly what I would have wanted you to do." Pushing the file before her aside, her daughter's physician appraised Buffy silently before speaking again. "I'm not going to lie to you, and I'm not going to sugarcoat things either. What we're about to face together with your little girl is going to be the worst, most excruciating experience of your life. Whatever you're prepared for, it's going to be ten times worse."

"I appreciate that, but I'm stronger and more realistic than I seem."

"Being a single mother, I'm sure you are."

"Please, Doctor Welby, just tell me what this means, the seizure," Buffy pleaded. She knew that watching her daughter die slowly and painfully was going to torment her as well. If she could take the pain onto herself, she would without a second thought, but she couldn't. All she could do was be there, be strong and supportive, and love her daughter up until the moment where her only child took her final, difficult breath.

"First, considering how much time we're going to be spending together in the upcoming months, you should probably call me Colleen." Nodding her head once to show acquiescence to the doctor's request, the slayer simply waited for the physician to continue talking. "As for the seizure, though I had hoped this symptom wouldn't present itself this early, it is common with your daughter's disease. Luckily, we can put her on anti-seizure medication. It won't prevent them entirely, and it certainly won't prevent the disease from progressing further, but it'll help ease her suffering, keep her safer longer. However, I must warn you that not all symptoms that present will be this easy to deal with. There will come a time when modern medicine will stop being useful, when the only thing we'll be able to do is keep your little girl as comfortable as possible."

"But that's down the line quite a bit, right, maybe even years?"

"No case is the same," Colleen informed her. "That's what makes this disease so difficult to study, to fight. Each case presents itself uniquely; each case presents slightly different symptoms, progresses at a different rate. Your daughter's case will be no different, but, as we continue to monitor her, we should be able to spot new symptoms early, start mapping her condition's progress in order to be better prepared for any and all new developments." With a slight quirk of her mouth, the doctor said, "hence the reason why you'll be seeing me so often and why you should call me by my first name."

The gesture wasn't meant to be lighthearted or even flippant, just reassuring, kind, generous, and it made Buffy feel somewhat comforted. No matter what, she knew the woman before her to be on her side. Though she certainly wouldn't consider Colleen Welby a friend, the slayer knew that she was well on her way to trusting the specialist, a first in her history with doctors, and such faith couldn't have come at a better or more opportune time. If nothing else, the fact that she felt comfortable around the physician should transfer, she hoped, to her daughter, making her little girl's fight just that much more safe and secure for her.

"This is also a good segue into something else that I've been meaning to discuss with you." Pausing for a moment, the doctor seemed to wait for some acknowledgment from Buffy before she continued, but she was too numb to offer one, so, after several awkward, silent moments, Colleen simply pushed forward anyway. "Because of how unpredictable this disease is, many parents find it helpful to join support groups. The only people in the world who can understand what you're going through, Buffy, are other parents who have children with this same disease. The support group members meet, share their stories, compare notes, and, when they work together, they're great at raising awareness and research funds. Plus, they seem to gain strength from each other. I know that they could use your help, and I think that you're going to need them as well, especially considering how, once again, you came alone. Buffy, I can't stress to you enough how important it is to have a support system behind you as you go through this with your daughter. Friends, family, they're essential; they are what will get you through..."

"I told my family."

"Oh," Doctor Welby breathed out. Her surprise was evident. "That's good."

"They were stunned, and they cried, and I was nearly crushed underneath all their pity, both for me and my daughter and for themselves."

"So, you didn't tell them about the seizure," Colleen realized.

"No, not yet," she answered. "Just hearing that my little girl is going to die nearly destroyed them. They're strong, the strongest people I've ever known, but they're not ready to deal with this yet. Hell, I'm not either, but I have to. They don't, at least not right away. If I can spare them a few months, even a few days, carry the burden alone during that time while they adjust, and grieve, and mourn, then I will. It's not the first time I've had to fight something on my own," Buffy shared, "and it won't be the last."

"But they are going to be there for you... eventually?"

Smiling wistfully, the slayer revealed, "they always are."

She had been out, walking. Lately, Buffy had felt extremely restless. Despite being pregnant, she hated downtime. Resting meant quiet, and quiet meant that she was forced to confront and examine both her thoughts and her fears. And they were all about him. Even with a full time job, working as a security guard at the high school, and her slaying responsibilities, Buffy felt as though she had too much time on her hands. Surprisingly, she had already read all the local public library's books on pregnancy, and, though she should have been preparing herself and her body for labor, sleeping as much as possible while she could, she saw too much in her dreams to welcome sleep more than what was necessary. Even spending time with her friends made her uncomfortable.

Their looks were too curious, too pitying, and she could feel their concern and fear towards her as soon as she walked into a room. They wondered if she could handle motherhood, if she would be able to balance taking care of a child, slaying, and actually succeeding as a functioning member of society. They worried about her child, questioning if it was really human like she promised or

something demonic, something sinister, something sent to her by the Hellmouth intent upon killing them all. And they doubted her explanation as to how she found herself pregnant in the first place, though none of them had the nerve to say so to her face.

No, instead, they all whispered behind her back. At first, Buffy had felt paranoid, like her own insecurities were manifesting themselves into conspiracies about her friends, but then she started to stumble upon half finished conversations and awkward cover-ups, and she knew her instincts to be right. Anya, and Xander, and Giles, and Willow, and even her own mother, they all banded together in their concern. Surprisingly, it wasn't their lack of trust which hurt her the most, for Buffy had to admit that, in their shoes, she would undoubtedly feel the same way, but the fact that they wouldn't confront her with their worries that stung so desperately. There had been a time when she and Willow had told each other everything, when Xander had always gone to her when he had a problem, when Giles had confided in her, and when her mother had always been on her side, no matter what.

So, she adjusted. If they weren't ready to trust her judgment, then she would avoid them, give them time to come to terms with her pregnancy and the changes it had brought forth within her life. She called less meetings, instead choosing to patrol more on her own than she had since she first came to Sunnydale. If her friends and family noticed the shift in behavior, they didn't say anything, but she had the suspicion that they went out on their own to patrol as well. She stopped going to The Bronze, movie night became a thing of the past, and, when she wasn't working, or slaying, or sleeping, Buffy went for walks.

She went to the park and watched the mothers push their kids on the swings. She went to the zoo, ate peanuts, and watched as the mother elephants washed their babies off with water from their trunks. And she window shopped, watching the things she'd love to be able to afford for her child as she passed them by. And, for the first time in her life, she didn't mind the loneliness. In fact, she didn't even feel it. With her child growing inside of her, Buffy no longer felt lonely. No matter what, she was always with someone she loved, and someone who loved her was always there as well.

Pushing open the front door, she had meant to slip inside and run up to her room, but, before she could even step onto the first riser, her mother was calling her name from the living room. Approaching cautiously, hesitantly, Buffy was surprised to see that her mom wasn't alone, that she was sitting with Willow on the couch, and that the two of them looked both guilty and nervous. However, she didn't have to wonder or even guess as to what was on their minds. The luggage in the corner of the room, luggage she recognized from her one partial semester as Willow's roommate, told her everything.

"Sit down, please, Buffy," her mother requested.

"That's okay, but thanks." Joking without any humor in her voice, she said, "it's getting harder and harder for me to get back up. I'll stand." Deciding to cut directly to the chase, she asked, "what's going on?"

"Willow's moving in."

That much she had already gathered, but her mom didn't seem inclined to say more. Obviously, she was just supposed to accept their piece of news, be happy about it, and offer to carry up the lighter of her friend's luggage, but she couldn't do that, at least not before they admitted their reasons.

"Buffy, it's just that... in a few months, you're going to be a mom," Willow explained.

"Yes, I know that, Will. The morning sickness that lasts all day, the swollen feet and ankles, and

the cantaloupe that I seemed to have swallowed all point in that direction."

"And, well, we just thought that it might be a good thing to have another set of hands around to help," her mother added. "I don't think you have any idea how many times a day a newborn baby's diaper needs changed."

"An average of seven, a minimum of four, and a max of ten," Buffy replied confidently. "I know it's surprising given my track record and all, but I've done my homework."

The room was so quiet, they could have heard the dust of a slain vampire landing upon the area rug. Finally, it was Willow who broke the silence. "There's also the fact that you've been so distant lately, Buffy. You're sad, and we're not talking my favorite shirt got stained sad or my fish died sad; we're talking Ang..."

Interrupting her, Joyce harshly whispered, "that's enough. We don't need to..." Clearing her own throat harshly, her mom stated, "the point is that we think this will be good for you, for all of us."

They were scared of her, scared of her child, scared of what she might do to them if they said anything, scared of what she might do to herself if they didn't, and scared for themselves, so they devised a plan where Willow would move in – to keep an eye on her, to help, to prevent her from doing anything they would consider rash or wrong. Willow was the closest thing they had to a second powerful weapon, the only defense they had if they had a rogue slayer on their hands, and, with that realization, her hurt and animosity disappeared. They still cared, they still loved her, and, as she recalled the summer she ran away after sending Angel to hell, they had a right to worry about her state of mind. She was acting differently, Angel sad as her best friend had been about to say before Buffy's mother had stopped her, and, given her track record, Angel sad never led to good things.

So, she decided to take it easy on them. "Sounds good," Buffy said, shrugging her shoulders. "I'd offer to help carry things upstairs, but pregnant girl here, and I need to go get ready for work." Bending over, she hugged her friend. "I'm glad you're here, Will," and, with that, she left the room and two shocked, gaping women behind.

Shaking away the memory, Buffy revealed, "they don't always show their support in the traditional sense, but my friends are always there for me. In fact, two of them live with me, and I've been thinking about asking a third – Giles, he's... I guess you would call him my mentor, but he's more like my father figure now that my dad's out of the picture. Anyway, I've been thinking of inviting him to move in with us as well. After last night, the nursery's empty. All it needs is a new coat of paint, and it'll be boy friendly again. With everything that's happening, I figured another pair of hands around the house and another source of income would be a help."

"That sounds like an excellent plan, Buffy," Doctor Welby commented. "However, before you make any changes, I was thinking that it might be prudent for you to consider relocating to a larger area, maybe Los Angeles. I'm here in Sunnydale twice a week, but I spend the rest of my time in LA. It's a larger market, more cases there, and the facilities are better able to treat children like your daughter."

Despite her best intentions, Buffy had been unable to hear anything the doctor had said past the words Los Angeles. Los Angeles held too many memories, too much significance, too much meaning. Even if it was better for her daughter, she would drown there emotionally and physically, pulled under by the currents of her own feelings and the dangerous undertows of the past. Besides, logistically...

"My job's here, my family's here, my home is here. More importantly, my daughter's life is here. While L.A. might be better medically, everything in my little girl's life that is familiar to her is here in Sunnydale, and I think, in the long run, that's going to be more important in her fight than the latest piece of medical equipment. And I can always drive her to you in L.A. if I need to. It's only a couple of hours away." Not to mention the fact that she was the slayer and Sunnydale was the capital of the Hellmouth. If she left with her daughter, her little girl stood a very good chance of dying in an apocalypse sooner than she would from the effects of her terminal illness.

"You're right," Colleen said. "Here I am, trying to convince you of how important it is to have a support system behind you, and then I go and suggest you leave that support system behind. I just... I want to make sure that I present you with all of your options, Buffy, no matter what."

"And I appreciate that," she assured the physician. "I really do."

"Well, then, I think that's all for today." After standing, the doctor moved towards the office's closed door. "Let me get that prescription for you, and then you can be on your way. Next time I see you, though, I hope to meet your family."

Vaguely, Buffy answered, "we'll see."

Before anything else, there was one more person she had to break the news to, and, until that task was completed, she couldn't plan the future, plot her next move, or think about anything else. One step at a time...