And Then There Were Three

A/N: I'm a bad, bad person for starting this. I promised my self I wouldn't yet, but I didn't know what else to do. I just watched the series finale and I'm terribly depressed. This is my solution. And don't expect regular updates until I've finished at least one of my other fics, okay? -- Andie

***** Chapter 1: Say What? *****

"Your what just what?" April asked, blinking in shock. Andrea gestured in frustration toward her feet, which were covered in a clear viscous fluid.

"Eew," Andrea groaned, cautiously lifting her foot. "These shoes are Gucci. Son of a -"

"Andie, we have to get you to a hospital, post haste," April said quickly. Her cousin rolled her eyes at her.

"Oh, my God. What if there's something wrong? I'm not even seven months along yet. Oh, my God." Andrea looked up and frantically scanned the crowd for her husband. April helped her hobble over to Spike, who was currently chatting up a reporter.

"Wonder Bra. Time to go," April said, cocking her eyebrows, hoping he'd get the message. Spike frowned and turned to the man he was speaking with.

"Excuse me," he said politely. When they were out of hearing range, he turned to Andrea. "What's the matter, love?"

"I'm in labor," she said bluntly. She watched his deep blue eyes widen considerably in shock, his expression turn to extreme concern.

"Bloody hell. Why didn't you tell me?" He pushed her toward the front door, grabbing her coat off the rack.

"What the hell was I just doing?" Andrea asked. "April, get Ben and the Scoobies. Meet us at the hospital, please."

"Check."

"Labor?" Spike mumbled. "Only seven months. . .Can't be right. . ." As she slid into the front seat of her convertible, a contraction hit. She cried out and Spike paled noticeably. "All right, pet?" he asked as he started the car, smoothing her blonde hair away from her face. She glared at him.

"Do I look all right?" He winced and sped toward Sunnydale General. After a few tense moments of silence, he spoke again.

"Are you sure you're in labor? 'Cause there's lots of women who have pains early in the third trimester. I think." Andrea's jaw clenched.

"No, I'm not sure. Why don't you ask the disgusting goop on our brand new rug, hmm?" She knew she was being a bitch, but, really, the man was being such a dick. There was a tiny person just itching to explode out of her stomach and he was asking if she was sure. 'I'll give you sure,' she thought menacingly.

They reached the hospital in record time, and Spike ushered her quickly into the emergency room.

"My wife's in labor," he told the receptionist.

"Think?" Andrea sarcastically commented. Spike rolled his eyes and gently pushed her in the direction of an empty room. He took some forms from the woman behind the desk and a doctor appeared at her side as she was sliding onto the bed.

"How far along are you?" he asked, setting up an ultrasound machine. He was a balding man, with dark hair and bright eyes. He seemed friendly enough, but Andrea was hardly in an amiable mood.

"Twenty-six weeks," she answered as he draped a paper sheet over her knees, lifted her dress and squirted some cold goop onto her distended stomach. He frowned.

"Really? And your water broke already? What were you doing?"

"Standing there," Andrea said, clearly growing impatient very quickly. "Now make it stop, Dr. . ."

"Peters. And I don't know if I can." He lightly pressed the ultrasound scanner to the goopy area of her abdomen and moved it around, gazing at a screen. "The baby seems to be in delivery position. Remarkable. . ." He trailed off.

"What? What's so sodding remarkable?" Spike asked, appearing in the doorway. Telltale signs of stress were appearing in the form of deep lines around his eyes.

"The fetus is only twenty-six weeks along, yet it seems to be almost completely developed. Like that of a fetus eight weeks older. . . I've never seen anything like it."

"It wasn't remarkable last week, when we had a check up. Was it, Spike?" Andrea sounded so much like a lost child that he couldn't stop himself from moving to her bedside and taking his wife's hand protectively.

"No, babe."

"Well, from what I can tell, this baby's ready to be born. Let me just see how dilated you are . . ." After a quick peek under the sheet, Dr. Peters removed his rubber gloves. "How long have you been in labor?" he asked.

"I don't know. I've been having back pains all day, but . . ."

"All bleeding day? Why didn't you say something?" The woman was so. . . grrrrr. But that was part of why he loved her.

"I didn't think it meant anything. I'm only six and a half months along. I thought I might have spelt funny last night." Despite the situation, Spike grinned. They hadn't been doing a lot of sleeping last night. . .

"Well, Mrs. Sinclair, it seems that you're almost completely dilated. You should be ready to deliver within the hour." Andrea and Spike gaped at their doctor.

"What?"