2016, fourteen hours later
Leather duster floating behind him, Spike is pacing back and forth in the windowless hospital waiting room as if *he* is the father of Dawn's child. I'm so used to his accelerated energy that I only watch in vague amusement. He loves Dawn so much, and the pregnancy has not been easy on her body. She almost had a miscarriage twice and was bleeding when her doctor ordered her on bed rest until the baby was born. I can't count the number of hours over the last two months of her pregnancy that Spike has been by her side, keeping her company while her husband, Martin, worked at the law firm.
Removing my eyes from Spike for a moment, I glance at Rachel who is fast asleep with her head heavy on her watcher's shoulder and her body limp in her grass-stained slaying outfit. She is only sixteen years old and has been slayer for a mere year and a half. I recall how I felt at her age when slaying was new and fresh and my world had yet to turn completely upside down.
Her watcher, a stocky young man named Sean, smiles at me through eyelids that are threatening to close. Although at first he was skeptical until Giles, my watcher, explained my situation to him, he has generously adjusted to Spike and my presence in Rachel's training and has joined Giles in his support of us among the Watcher's Council in England.
Rachel is from Canada and left her family in Ontario when she moved to Sunnydale. Sean owns a small house near the high school and feeds, clothes, and provides shelter to Rachel whose own family can't provide for her. He already loves her like his own daughter. I'm glad Spike and I are available to help because I don't want to see the grief in Sean's eyes if she were to die in battle.
Spike crosses in front my view of the sleepy couple and plunks down in the chair next to me with his legs and arm sprawled, shaking the whole row of attached seating. "Bloody hell. How long does this delivery thing take?" He rakes a hand through his hair and rolls an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.
"Sometimes more than twenty-four hours," I inform him, anticipating his reaction.
"Twenty four hours! We have to stay here," he points to the litter strewn carpet, "for twenty four hours? While Dawn's in there," he stabs his finger toward the delivery wing, "with doctors doing god knows what to her and the babe?"
The corners of my mouth lift despite my effort not to grin. "Yeah. Sometimes it's longer than that." I pat his thigh briefly.
"Longer?!" I notice that Rachel startles awake and almost falls out of her seat when Spike practically shouts and jumps to feet to begin pacing again.
Rachel looks at Spike and then at me. "Are you guys hungry? I can run to the butcher's and pick up some blood since it's daylight, and things might take a while."
Spike shakes his head, and I speak for both of us, "No, thank you, Rachel. We'll be fine. Spike's just. . . being nervous for all of us."
The young slayer stretches her arms and hops to her feet. Holding her hand out to Sean, she announces, "Well, I'm starved. I'm off to raid the snack machines."
"What's this?" Sean teases, gesturing at her open hand.
"Money. Now. Hungry," she explains with a playful pout. Sean hands her several one dollar bills, and Rachel grins, grabs Spike's coat pocket, and begins dragging him out of the waiting room. "You're coming with me, mister." Spike growls but accedes.
When the two are far enough down the hall to not overhear, Sean opens a conversation with me, "I spoke to the Council tonight while you were raiding the nest."
Spike knows nothing about my recent concerns regarding the Council, and I am pleased that Sean honors my wish to not get Spike involved unless absolutely necessary. "What did they say?"
"They met again on the status of your assistance with Rachel. The arguments were the same as they have been in the past. only this time there was greater support for eliminating Spike and moving you to England. Apparently, many of them still want to keep an eye on you," he reports grimly.
The Council learned that Spike was helping me after he attained his soul fourteen years ago. The Council members had no say at that point in my affairs because Travers, their leader, knew better than to interfere with the Giles-Buffy team. Since then, Travers died, and I was turned. Other slayers were called and killed in various parts of the world. My position among the Council became more tenuous, especially when we began interfering in their plans for Rachel. They want to regain the control over the slayer that they once had. Luckily, Giles is still a force among the Council for us in England, and Sean is now an ally although he has less influence because he is in the United States and because he is younger than I am if I were still alive.
"Well, at least they're past the having Rachel slay us phase," I comment.
Rubbing his eye with a finger, Sean chuckles sleepily and adds, "Well, Giles reminded them of the rationale for you two helping her again. He told them for the upteenth time that she would benefit and become a stronger, longer lived slayer with two vampires. her main prey. training her."
"And?"
"They reluctantly assented."
"Good." I am perfectly aware that the issue is not over.
"Hey," an exhausted masculine voice calls from the entrance to the waiting room.
We turn to view Dawn's husband holding himself up with the doorframe. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his unshaven jaw, and the redness of his hands that look like they've been squeezed to death, he's wearing the goofiest little smile. Sean and I stand, eagerly waiting for his news.
"She's a beautiful girl. Six pounds, nine ounces. Natalia."
* * *
Leather duster floating behind him, Spike is pacing back and forth in the windowless hospital waiting room as if *he* is the father of Dawn's child. I'm so used to his accelerated energy that I only watch in vague amusement. He loves Dawn so much, and the pregnancy has not been easy on her body. She almost had a miscarriage twice and was bleeding when her doctor ordered her on bed rest until the baby was born. I can't count the number of hours over the last two months of her pregnancy that Spike has been by her side, keeping her company while her husband, Martin, worked at the law firm.
Removing my eyes from Spike for a moment, I glance at Rachel who is fast asleep with her head heavy on her watcher's shoulder and her body limp in her grass-stained slaying outfit. She is only sixteen years old and has been slayer for a mere year and a half. I recall how I felt at her age when slaying was new and fresh and my world had yet to turn completely upside down.
Her watcher, a stocky young man named Sean, smiles at me through eyelids that are threatening to close. Although at first he was skeptical until Giles, my watcher, explained my situation to him, he has generously adjusted to Spike and my presence in Rachel's training and has joined Giles in his support of us among the Watcher's Council in England.
Rachel is from Canada and left her family in Ontario when she moved to Sunnydale. Sean owns a small house near the high school and feeds, clothes, and provides shelter to Rachel whose own family can't provide for her. He already loves her like his own daughter. I'm glad Spike and I are available to help because I don't want to see the grief in Sean's eyes if she were to die in battle.
Spike crosses in front my view of the sleepy couple and plunks down in the chair next to me with his legs and arm sprawled, shaking the whole row of attached seating. "Bloody hell. How long does this delivery thing take?" He rakes a hand through his hair and rolls an unlit cigarette between his thumb and forefinger.
"Sometimes more than twenty-four hours," I inform him, anticipating his reaction.
"Twenty four hours! We have to stay here," he points to the litter strewn carpet, "for twenty four hours? While Dawn's in there," he stabs his finger toward the delivery wing, "with doctors doing god knows what to her and the babe?"
The corners of my mouth lift despite my effort not to grin. "Yeah. Sometimes it's longer than that." I pat his thigh briefly.
"Longer?!" I notice that Rachel startles awake and almost falls out of her seat when Spike practically shouts and jumps to feet to begin pacing again.
Rachel looks at Spike and then at me. "Are you guys hungry? I can run to the butcher's and pick up some blood since it's daylight, and things might take a while."
Spike shakes his head, and I speak for both of us, "No, thank you, Rachel. We'll be fine. Spike's just. . . being nervous for all of us."
The young slayer stretches her arms and hops to her feet. Holding her hand out to Sean, she announces, "Well, I'm starved. I'm off to raid the snack machines."
"What's this?" Sean teases, gesturing at her open hand.
"Money. Now. Hungry," she explains with a playful pout. Sean hands her several one dollar bills, and Rachel grins, grabs Spike's coat pocket, and begins dragging him out of the waiting room. "You're coming with me, mister." Spike growls but accedes.
When the two are far enough down the hall to not overhear, Sean opens a conversation with me, "I spoke to the Council tonight while you were raiding the nest."
Spike knows nothing about my recent concerns regarding the Council, and I am pleased that Sean honors my wish to not get Spike involved unless absolutely necessary. "What did they say?"
"They met again on the status of your assistance with Rachel. The arguments were the same as they have been in the past. only this time there was greater support for eliminating Spike and moving you to England. Apparently, many of them still want to keep an eye on you," he reports grimly.
The Council learned that Spike was helping me after he attained his soul fourteen years ago. The Council members had no say at that point in my affairs because Travers, their leader, knew better than to interfere with the Giles-Buffy team. Since then, Travers died, and I was turned. Other slayers were called and killed in various parts of the world. My position among the Council became more tenuous, especially when we began interfering in their plans for Rachel. They want to regain the control over the slayer that they once had. Luckily, Giles is still a force among the Council for us in England, and Sean is now an ally although he has less influence because he is in the United States and because he is younger than I am if I were still alive.
"Well, at least they're past the having Rachel slay us phase," I comment.
Rubbing his eye with a finger, Sean chuckles sleepily and adds, "Well, Giles reminded them of the rationale for you two helping her again. He told them for the upteenth time that she would benefit and become a stronger, longer lived slayer with two vampires. her main prey. training her."
"And?"
"They reluctantly assented."
"Good." I am perfectly aware that the issue is not over.
"Hey," an exhausted masculine voice calls from the entrance to the waiting room.
We turn to view Dawn's husband holding himself up with the doorframe. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his unshaven jaw, and the redness of his hands that look like they've been squeezed to death, he's wearing the goofiest little smile. Sean and I stand, eagerly waiting for his news.
"She's a beautiful girl. Six pounds, nine ounces. Natalia."
* * *