April 21, 2007 - Loss - *Caution! Very sad story*
Angel had been dead tired when his head finally hit the pillow that night.
He and Buffy had spent all day running training drills with the newbie Slayers and his body was really feeling the hours of abuse by a small army of super strong woman with damn good fighting skills. Although it was only sparring, he still took a good number of hits from the girls still learning to harness their power, and even blocked punches began to hurt after enough of them.
That's why when Buffy suddenly scrambled to the bathroom during the night he didn't wake.
Half hour later his body finally acknowledged her absence and as his sensed reached out to find her, he heard muffled sobs coming from behind the closed bathroom door.
Instantly on alert he was up and at the door in a second, "Buffy? Buffy are you ok? Is something wrong?" He asked concerned, knocking gently.
She didn't reply other than the muffled sob.
That's when he smelt blood.
Nearly ripping the locked door off the hinges from fear he pushed it open and found Buffy curled against the wall, sitting in a small pool of blood.
"Buffy!" He immediately went to her, pulling her onto his lap despite the blood soaking into his sweats.
For a second she pulled away from him, his presence making it so much worse. But his arms wrapping around her was like a soothing balm on her aching heart, she buried her face into his neck and let the tears flow, finding comfort in his warm solid form.
The stench of the blood was strong in his nose, instead of rousing his demon, he just felt sick from it.
Deep in his gut, he knew what this blood was, and the thought crushed him.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Buffy cried against him, "I didn't know...I should have known...It's my fault..."
"Buffy, where are you bleeding?" He asked, knowing, but hoping to God he was wrong.
"I was pregnant Angel...and now...I'm not." She admitted, not looking at him but shielding her face in his shoulder out of shame for losing something so precious for both of them.
"Are...you sure?" He asked, not hearing a heartbeat in her womb but it could still be too early.
That was the one thing bugging him...when could she have conceived? They used protection every time, and he would have noticed if the condom broke.
Then it hit him, almost 5 weeks ago, the day Drusilla nearly killed him. They'd made love the night his heart had stopped. It was brief compared to their usual lovemaking, but they hadn't used protection, it was the only time they hadn't since Liam's birth.
"Positive." She nodded. She couldn't tell him about the tiny kidney bean sized form that had come out of her as her uterus contracted violently, the little body that would have been their baby. She couldn't get the image out of her mind, the darkened areas that would have been eyes, the little nubs that would have grown into arms and legs, fingers and toes.
"Oh god! It's all my fault!" She sobbed, holding him so tight he thought she may have been trying to crawl under his skin to hide.
"It's not." He soothed, rubbing his fingers down her back. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"I should have known." She repeated, heartbroken. 'I should know when I'm pregnant...other woman know.'
"It was too early...I didn't even know." He replied, rubbing her back still. Usually he knew before she did, but that was because he could hear the little heartbeat...and that didn't happen till around 6 weeks.
"It is my fault...I...got kicked in the stomach earlier...I just kept fighting...maybe if I'd rested...or not participated in the training..." She cried, feeling responsible for killing their baby.
"It wouldn't have made any difference." He told her, hoping he wasn't lying to her.
"You don't know that." She countered, finally looking up at him.
"Neither do you." He reasoned.
She looked down, resting her head against his chest as he brushed the damp hair from her forehead and placed a kiss there. "It's not your fault Buffy, sometimes..." He spoke quietly to her, trailing his fingers in her blond locks. "Sometimes, it just doesn't work. The DNA...it doesn't mix right. I read it happens more often then woman like to think...many don't even realize it...they just think they had a heavy period."
"I don't get periods." She countered. She was a slayer, slayers were built different.
He shook his head, "No, you don't...but you're still a young healthy woman, there is nothing wrong with you my love. We have two beautiful children because of you." He kissed her cheek. "The time wasn't right for our family to grow, whether the time is ever right or not, it doesn't matter to me. I love you, I love what you've already given me...I'm happy with that I've been blessed with, I don't need more." But he knew he'd certainly take more if he had the option, but she didn't need to hear that right now. She needed time for her heart to heal, as did he.
"I didn't even know the baby was there...but I already miss it." She muttered against his chest.
"Me too." he admitted, feeling the loss but knowing it couldn't cut him as deeply as it cut Buffy. Even as a father, he'd never know the loss a mother felt.
After a few minutes of just holding one another and sharing strength, he wordlessly began to undress them and turned on the shower.
The silence between them wasn't awkward, they just had no words to speak. Their heart too heavy in their mouths.
He cleaned the blood from both of them, her body now finished it's unwelcome purging of life.
He dried them off and dressed her in a comfortable long shirt and matching fleecy pants.
When her hair was toweled dry enough, he carried her back to bed and slid her in between the sheets.
Silent tears slipped down her cheeks as he quietly cleaned the blood up off the bathroom floor.
He was just about to toss a bloody tissue on the counter when her voice halted him.
"Wait!" She yelped, seeing him about to crush up the tissue and toss it.
He turned to look at her and immediately understood the pained expression of love and loss in her eyes.
His outstretched hand hesitated then fell back to his side, his eyes stinging at the realization.
Inside the tissue was the miscarried babe.
"I...I couldn't just...flush it." She justified quietly, looking small and frail while leaning against the door frame. Her face pale and drawn from emotional trauma.
He left the tissue on the counter and went to his wife, enfolding her in his arms. "You did nothing wrong, my love."
She leaned against him, greedily taking his offered comfort.
"I'll be back in an hour or so." He told her, leading her back to their bed.
"Where are you going!" She asked, not wanting to be alone, especially now.
"Just out to the garage." Added to alleviate her fears.
"Why?" she asked, wanting him to stay with her.
"You'll see when I get back." He kissed her forehead and tucked her back in. "Rest beloved, I promise I'll wake you when I get back."
She glanced to the now closed bathroom door, "I can't sleep." The memories of what happened so recently in that bathroom were too vivid in her mind.
He understood and picked her up again. Normally she'd protest being carried for no reason, by this time she let him.
He went downstairs and placed her on the couch in the living room, wrapping her in the white wedding anniversary blanket he gave her, then disappearing into the kitchen for a few minutes. When he returned he pressed a mug of hot chocolate into her hands. "Drink this, and just rest Ok? I'll be back in soon." He kissed her forehead and brushed a strand of hair from her face. " I love you, you did nothing wrong." he repeated again to drill it into her mind.
She nodded sadly and sipped her drink as he pulled on his coat and boots then headed out to the garage.
He went straight for the little workbench he had in the corner. When he was thinking of building Buffy a jewelry box for valentine's day, he bought a few different types of wood to experiment on, even build a mini box as a trial. He dug through the junk and pulled the small box from the tool chest.
Sitting down with it, he went to work remodeling it.
...
Buffy was still sitting quietly on the couch when he slipped down next to her almost an hour later.
She automatically snuggled against him as he kissed her temple, her eyes red from crying.
Her heart felt a little better now she was nestled in his arms again, hearing the soothing, thump, thump, thump of his heart against her ear.
"It doesn't have to be right now...but I thought maybe we could...have a little service for what we lost?" He held up the small box, stained a deep cherry with inscribed roses and hearts. The edges lightly detailed, smooth and simple, yet elegant. On the cover of the mini make-shift coffin, Angel had inscribed the words, 'Our Babe' in his most beautiful old world handwriting.
Buffy's eyes instantly teared again, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a sob upon seeing the tiny 'coffin'.
He pulled back the box when she started to cry again, seeing her tears he thought he really screwed up this time.
"I'd like that." She sniffled out, agreeing to his offer of having a service. In just...felt right. Reaching her hand out for the box she pushed down her emotion, she wanted to see what he'd made for their lost child without tears blurring her vision.
He handed it to her, wrapping her back in his arms again and grabbing a tissue from the end table.
He dabbed at the drying tears as she looked over the box. "It...looks just like my jewelry box, but in mini." She looked up at him, questioning.
"It was an early prototype." he confirmed, "I figured something handmade was more appropriate than tupper-ware and more secure than a tissue."
She ran her fingers along the words, then opened it. The inside was lined with the same crushed red velvet material as her jewelry box, the only difference was the smaller size and the inside didn't have compartments.
"It's perfect." She whispered, almost feeling the love he'd put into making the box. Maybe it hadn't been originally built to be a coffin, but the idea of laying her lost babe in it was far more desirable that letting something created from her and Angel's love be laid to rest down a sewer pipe.
"When you're ready, we can bury it outback in the garden. Maybe plant some flowers and put a marker when it warms up?" He suggested.
She nodded against his shoulder, the idea of giving the would-have-been child a 'funeral' and laying it to rest close by gave her some comfort. It gave her a sense of peace knowing there would be evidence the life once existed, that it was loved and wouldn't be forgotten.
"Tomorrow?" she asked him, not wanting to let the remains sit unburied for long.
He nodded, "Alright."
He made as if to get up, but she grabbed his arm to hold him put.
"Can we...stay here tonight?" She didn't want to go back to her bed, to be that close to where she lost her baby. Not right now, she couldn't tonight.
He nodded again, shedding his coat and boots and lying down on the couch.
She snuggled up on the inside, sandwiched snugly between him and the back of the couch.
He kissed her forehead as she rested her head on his shoulder.
"Will it stop hurting tomorrow?" She pleaded after a few minutes of silence, the lump of despair heavy in her heart.
He shook his head sadly, "No...but everyday, it'll hurt a little less."
"Until it stops?" She asked.
"I think...it's like a scar, the pain fades as it heals, but the mark will always remain. It becomes a part of you, your forever changed." He offered.
She nodded, "I don't want to forget." She was pregnant, she had the life in her. It was real, she wanted to keep that thought alive.
"You don't have to." He assured.
Finally the exhaustion of the ordeal caught up to her and she drifted to sleep secure in her husband's arms.
Angel lay awake for a while longer, his own heart equally broken for what they lost.
...
Early the following morning, Angel slipped from Buffy's arms and wrapped her comfortably up in the blanket.
He needed to put the tiny remains in the little coffin, and he knew Buffy didn't need to watch.
A minute later he stood in the bedroom's joining bathroom, looking at the tissue.
He thought briefly of just flicking it into the box and shutting the cover, but found he couldn't do that.
Gently, with slightly shaky hands, he unwrapped the white paper and saw what Buffy had seen the night before.
He shut his eyes, feeling the emotion he'd been able to distance himself from, before he saw the body, well up in him. With wet cheeks, he carefully took the embryo and placed it in the center of the box. As small as the 'coffin' was, it seemed vast to the form it contained.
He wanted to say something, but didn't know what. "I'm sorry." slipped out. The box seeming so inadequate for the potential life it contained.
Closing the box, he headed back downstairs.
For a moment, he was at a loss of what to do with the object until the burial. Finally he placed it on the mantel above the fireplace, an honorary spot reserved for may a valuable items.
...
Buffy woke a short time later, immediately looking for her absent husband. "Angel?" She called, sitting up.
"Making coffee." Came the reply from the kitchen.
She relaxed a little. Getting up and wrapping the blanket tightly around her shoulders, she headed towards the kitchen.
"You should be resting." Angel scolded when she sat at the table, placing a mug of hot coffee in her hands.
"I'm fine." She replied, figuring it was only a half lie. Physically she was fine, mentally however...'Out of service'.
He sat beside her, holding his own cup of coffee more for the warmth than actual desire to drink it. Making coffee gave him a task, so he'd done it. It made the day seem just a tad bit more normal, even if it wasn't.
"The kids will be up soon." She observed, knowing they tended to wake around 7 AM.
"I can handle them if you're...not up to it." He offered, wanting to give her time to grieve.
She shook her head, "No, I think they'll help more than hurt."
He nodded, understanding.
Shortly after the sounds of rousing children came down the stairs and Buffy let her mind wander to the comforting chaos of having two toddlers to feed and clothe and keep from inadvertently trying to kill themselves as they explored the world.
...
Later that evening, the kids were down for their nap and Buffy found herself staring at the tiny casket on the mantel.
Angel had told her it was there, mostly so if she needed time to say goodbye, she would know where to find it.
She had gone into the bedroom to get clothes, but had used the downstairs bathroom for all her needs. Knowing her unborn wasn't still sitting in a tissue on the counter helped, but she wasn't ready to enter than room again yet.
"Are you alright?" Angel asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she stared at the wooden container.
"Not really." She sighed. "I know it's probably just hormones, but I...I hate this. I've lost people I love before, my mom, friends, I've died myself, I even killed you...but this...this feeling is worse."
"I know." He agreed, holding her closer. "When Connor was stolen, I thought he was dead. That feeling of loss, it pierces deeper than any knife. I didn't leave my bed for over a week. It hurt to much to move...to even think. Never getting the change to hold this one doesn't make it hurt any less."
She turned in his arms and hugged him tight. She'd known about what happened with Connor, he'd told her everything. But now, now she really understood what he'd gone through. Now she knew the pain of losing a child, even if she never got to meet them.
"Now, I want to have the service now." She whispered against his shoulder.
"Are you sure your ready?" He asked, not wanting her to rush herself.
She gave him a weak smile, "I'll never be ready...but I think now is right."
He nodded, taking her hand in his right, and the small casket in his left.
...
They stood outside in the back yard. There was a small area set aside for a garden along the side of the house.
They'd never really used it before, the area mostly dominated by hardy shrubs and more than a few weeds. Neither had much of a green thumb.
Buffy picked out a spot she liked and Angel silently dug a foot deep hole.
When the hole was dug, she knelt and gently laid the small box in the center of the grave.
They stood side by side for a moment, unsure how to proceed.
"Do you want to say something?" Angel asked.
She nodded, "Yeah, but I don't know what." What do you say to a baby your never bore?
"Just speak from your heart my love." He encouraged.
She nodded and bowed her head down to the little casket. "I may have only been your home for a few weeks, but I'll be your mother for a lifetime. I never got the chance to hold you in my arms, to hear your heartbeat, to watch you grow, or to feel you kick inside of me, but I'll keep you in my heart, forever. I love you my little lost soul."
She took a step back as tears flooded her eyes and leaned against Angel for support.
He held her tight and let a tear roll down his cheek as he spoke, "You may have only been here for a fleeting moment, but you were ours. You were wanted and you were loved, and you'll be remembered."
When they composed themselves, he silently filled in the hole.
"It's too barren." She whispered, seeing the lonely dark circle of upturned earth. She knelt and gathered a few of the small stones and arranged them in a ring around the grave.
He searched inside his coat pocket and found a cross. He often kept one along with a stake just in case he ran into unwelcomed company.
He knelt beside her and laid the cross in the middle of the circle of stone. "For now." He offered, "Until we get something permanent."
She nodded, feeling better now there was a visible marker over the final resting spot of their unborn.
"We should get back inside, I think the kids are waking up." He suggested, seeing her shivering in the brisk April air.
"Can I have a minute alone?" She asked, eyes still on the cross.
"Of course." he kissed her temple and went back inside to give her space to grieve.
...
Almost a month later:
Buffy was in her usual spot at Angel's side, her head resting on his shoulder.
She looked over at him in the dim light cast by the moon outside. He was sound sleep and snoring quietly.
She smiled a little at that, she loved to hear him snore, she thought it was cute.
Her smile faded when for the millionth time that month, her mind wandered back to the life that would have been growing in her womb.
The stab of loss wasn't as painful as it was three weeks ago, but it was there.
She snuggled a little closer, knowing Angel's warmth helped chase away the chill of sadness.
His arms tightened around her as he slept, his body just reacting naturally to her needs.
She smiled again at that, at how supportive he'd been lately.
Sex had vanished from her mind completely since the loss, and not once had he pushed her for it. He never made her feel guilty or complained about the sudden celibacy. For a guy who had got some almost daily, he'd been very understanding of her need for some time.
She hated to admit, she never thought he'd be so nonchalant about it. Although he'd often nudge her towards making love in the past, he'd never pushed when she didn't actually want to. She liked to play the 'I'm going to say no, but I mean yes' game with him, and he seemed to know the difference between fake no and real no.
Not a trait all men shared.
Over the past few years, they'd spoiled each other in the love department, never really going more that a few days without rekindling the fire between them. The last time sex was sidelined was after the kid's births, but even then, major kissage and a little oral had played a hand or two.
Over the last month, they'd only shared chase kisses on cheeks or foreheads or temples. She suddenly couldn't remember the last time she'd kissed him on the lips.
They still loved one another, there was no questioning that. She just hadn't been able to bring herself to be intimate again.
As she laid still, her mind wandered other the details of their daily lives. They grieved over the past few weeks, letting their busy schedule between running a national demon fighting organization and raising a family distract them from their loss.
Angel had barely left her side the entire time, almost always keeping within visual contact with her if she needed him. It surprised her how the attention didn't bother her. She prided herself on being independent, but his concern touched her.
As often as she could, she'd sat out in the garden, looking down at the little stone that had replaced the scattered rocks and cross. A simple little rock with just one word on it, 'Ours', something most people seeing it wouldn't suspect it's true meaning.
They hadn't told anyone, mostly because they just didn't want to broach the subject. 'Hey how are you? Good. Me? Oh, you know, miscarriage. How far was I? 5 weeks. Oh, that's not so bad? At least I wasn't further? My kid is in a better place? F*ck you.'
Nope, better to just keep it to themselves. It was simpler. A private matter...a family matter.
As she thought about the last few weeks, the practical daze she'd been living in, she realized she was only going though the motions again.
A part of her was gone, not dead, but dormant. Similar to when Angel's demon was suppressed and he'd lost his powers. She was still a slayer, but her heart had been out of the picture for almost a month now.
She missed that part of her, the fire.
Despite his lack of complaints, she knew Angel missed it too. She could see it in his eyes.
Now their life was stuck on a endless loop.
In the morning, they'd wake, take care of their children. Angel would take a shower, a cold one, as she'd feed the kids. He'd dress and entertain them as she got dressed. They'd go to work, save lives and defeat evil. Come home, one of them would cook, the other would do dishes. The nightly rituals for the kids would be performed, baths and bedtime stories. He'd read or draw before bed as she absently watched TV or flipped through a magazine. Afterwards he'd kiss her goodnight and the cycle would start again the next day.
She hated it.
On the other hand, as much as she wanted to fix the problem...she was scared to.
Making love got her pregnant. That pregnancy ended when her baby died in her womb. Simple enough, don't make love, don't get pregnant. Never feel this debilitating emptiness again.
Except even without lovemaking, she still felt empty inside.
She sighed in frustration.
Even at Katie's second birthday party, she'd just felt there...not part of the celebration, but like an accessory, like a chair or a picture on the wall. In the room but not really. Angel had done his best to cheer her up, but in the end it hadn't worked.
It's not to say she didn't enjoy watching her little girl turn two, she did, but ever since that dark April night she'd walked though her life wearing a wet blanket of depression. Everywhere she went, everything she did, that weight followed her, pressed on her, never relenting, never lifting.
It was like being torn from Heaven all over again.
Slowly, very slowly, if seemed like the weight was lessening, the soggy gloom evaporating over time. She was looking forward to being blanket free, to getting her life back to the way it was.
To actually being able to make love to her husband again.
Angel shifted slightly, nuzzling against her hair. "Try and sleep beloved." he mumbled sleepily into her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"I will." she promised, pressing closer to him and snuggling deeper against his chest.
His arms tightened around her, holding her securely.
She listened as his heart rate slowed down in sleep, eventually falling to sleep to the sound.
Her heart was still torn, but the wounds were closing.
...
Author's Note: Yeah, not a happy chapter in my story, but I'm going for 'real' life issues for them as a couple too, not just demons and magic.
I've never been pregnant, so I've never lost a child, but I hope I didn't offend anyone who has.
I read a lot of stories online written by woman who went through a loss and that's where 90% of the story idea came from, real woman writing real feelings. I just borrowed some thoughts and added in Buffy and Angel.
Happier times will come, I promise.