Chapter Six: Sex, lies, and webcams
AN: So I borrowed a little bit of this from S6. Sue me (no, not literally, please)
They agreed on a compromise: a part time nanny would be employed, probably just during the daytime but also maybe a few nights so that Buffy and Spike could get some sleep. The crib would be in the next room and a baby monitor would be set up. Spike insisted on getting the best he could, and set up a webcam overlooking the baby's crib. Buffy thought that was quite ridiculous, and told him so, but she was very pleased that he was trying so hard.
She eventually managed to get a number for Joyce at the hospital and spoke to her mother for a long time. Buffy was more concerned about the tumour than her own impending motherhood, but Joyce dismissed talk of headaches and biopsies and scans with questions about the baby.
Buffy chose not to tell her mother about Glory. She didn't need to think about it. So Ethan hated her, and now Glory too... Ethan had just tried to buy her off, but Glory... Glory had gone further.
She was glad that Spike had CCTV set up around the house, an intercom on the gate, put someone in the gatehouse after a long absence, someone to check on everyone coming and going. He said that it was because so many people had tried to kill him before, but he didn't look at Buffy when he said it, and she knew when he was bluffing. She loved him all the more for it.
Check-ups at the hospital got more and more frequent and Spike stayed with her all the time, driving more carefully than she'd ever known - or would ever have guessed - he could. Willow and Tara offered to make the drive, but Spike wouldn't hear of it, taking Buffy out to the car and fastening her seatbelt himself.
"I'm not made of glass," she told him.
"Yes, you are. Glass with an egg in it."
"Bit more than an egg, now."
"Sounds like a hangover cure," Spike said.
"Well, the sight of me could scare anyone into sobriety."
He leaned across the car and kissed her. "You're as beautiful as you ever were."
She smiled. "Liar."
Spike still insisted she go everywhere in the wheelchair, which annoyed Buffy slightly, but secretly she was relieved. She severely doubted her legs could carry her weight for any more than the few steps from bed to wheelchair or wheelchair to bath. Spike had to bathe her, which he enjoyed immensely, because it took Buffy about an hour to get in and out of the bath by herself.
He pulled up in front of the house and came round to help her out of the high car, then up the steps into the house. Buffy had the feeling that if he could have lowered the house to ground level, he would. As it was, she was continually telling him she could manage the steps and didn't need a ramp for the chair.
They went upstairs and he ran a bath for her and helped her in, but as Buffy was choosing bath salts the phone rang.
"Be right back," Spike said, kissing her forehead, and went out through her dressing room to answer it. "Y'ello?"
"My lord," it was Davis, "you have a visitor."
"Well, whoever it is can wait. I'm busy."
"It's Lady Glory, sir."
"Don't let her in."
"I'm afraid she is already in, sir. She jumped the fallen wall, in the top field?"
Spike nearly broke the handset. "She what?" he said, his voice low and measured.
"She came across country, sir. On her horse."
Spike banged his head against the wall. "Where is she?"
"The green drawing room, sir."
Spike slammed down the phone. He counted to ten. Then when could act a bit calmer, he went back to Buffy and said, "I have to just run out to the stables. Lucy's cast herself."
"What?"
"Fell over, pet. Just need to wait with her until the vet comes. You don't mind, do you?"
She shook her head. "Of course not. I think it's kinda sweet you're so concerned about her."
He kissed her briefly then strode through the bedroom to his own dressing room, withdrew his matching Heckler & Koch .45 pistols and stomped downstairs, into the green drawing room, and aimed both guns at Glory.
"Precious is in a bad mood," she said, stretching a little. She was wearing a riding outfit so tight it could have been sprayed on: white breeches that clung to every curve, tall shiny black boots, a black hip-length coat and even a frilly white cravat, topped off with a little black satin covered hard hat over her blonde curls. She was tapping a riding crop suggestively against her thigh.
"You look fucking stupid," said Spike, who usually rode his horses in the same outfit he did everything else. "Get out of my house before I shoot you."
"Only came to see how you're doing."
"I'm doing great. You have until ten."
"And Buffy?"
"That's Lady Dashwood to you. Two. Three."
"All right, how's Lady Dashwood?"
"Barely recovered from your attack."
"And the baby?"
"We don't know yet. Could be half dead. And if it is, then I'm going to have to kill you. Six. Seven."
"Oh, hey Precious," Glory pouted, "you wouldn't do that. I'm your own flesh and blood."
Spike stared at her. Delusional cow. "No, you're not."
"By law I am. Did you know that if you and Darla and Harmony all die, then I'm the earl's heir?"
"What, did some of that home perm stuff get into your head? An earldom can only be inherited by a male heir. Although maybe that's why your arse looks so lopsided, Glory, because it's fake and you're really a bloke."
"Hey, that's not nice-"
"No, well, neither am I. You seem to have forgotten, love, that I'm not a very nice person. There's a reason I got called William the Bloody at school and it wasn't my bloody awful poetry. Now unless I'm very much mistaken I have two high calibre guns here and they're both aimed at you so unless you get your skanky little arse out of here before I reach the count of ten, I'll shoot you. Eight. Nine."
Glory didn't move. Spike moved one pistol a little and shot the sofa directly to her left.
Then she moved.
"What, are you nuts? You could have killed me! God, Spike, you're such a bad aim."
"No, I was aiming for the sofa. And now," he moved the gun, "I'm aiming at you. Ten."
Fear showed in her face. "All right, I'm going. Sheesh, no need to get suicidal about it."
Spike rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It's homicidal, you complete dink. Go on, fuck off."
Glory went, but not without popping over and pressing kissed fingers to his ear. "See you later, Precious."
"Not if I see you first."
As she left, Davis walked in. "Target practice, sir?"
"Yeah. Call the upholsterer."
"I have him on speed dial, my lord."
Spike sheathed the guns and went back up to Buffy, who was struggling to get out of the bath. "I heard a gunshot, what happened?"
He pulled her to her feet, wet and slippery against him. "Stupid bloody new maid cleaning the guns over the fireplace. One of them went off."
"Was she hurt? Is everyone okay?"
"There's a small hole in one of the uglier sofas, but I think it'll survive."
Buffy smiled. Spike was holding her very close. "Spike?"
"Mmm?"
"Remember how I said I thought I was going off sex?"
He made a face. "Yes?"
"Well, I think I've been off it long enough."
He looked at her. "Really?"
She nodded. "If I'm not putting you off, that is."
"Are you kidding, love?" He traced the healing scratches on her face. "I could shag you right up until the delivery room."
"Don't you think the doctors would be a little bit put off?"
"Where do they think babies come from in the first place?"
Buffy laughed. She'd been spending a lot of time lately with the girls, sitting watching movies when it was too hot to go outside, finding paints for Tara to make pictures of the landscape, internet surfing with Willow, who kept finding lots of babycare sites and forums and adorable little babyclothes to buy online. But Buffy didn't want to buy too much, not just yet. Some superstition in her told her not to until the baby had come.
She looked up at her husband and felt a wave of love. God, look at him, so damn good looking. It's not fair he's as hot as that while I'm all bloated and swollen. Why on earth does he still want me?
Spike carried her out to the bedroom, laid her on the bed and dried her all over. Then he proceeded to get her quite wet all over, licking everywhere, tasting her skin, breathing in the scent that surrounded him at night, but he had to steel himself not to touch.
And now he touched. He kissed her swollen, sensitive breasts, her massive stomach and pushed-out bellybutton, her curvy thighs and eventually parted her legs and licked her right where he'd been wanting to for weeks. Buffy moaned and writhed.
"God, Spike, I want you..."
"Not as much as I want you, pet," Spike said, lifting his head and getting to his feet. He had her lying on the edge of the bed while he stood between her legs. Now he raised her knees and slid deep into her, and Buffy let out a high gasp.
"Oh, that's good, don't stop, Spike, don't stop..."
He grinned. "I don't intend to."
He made full use of her sudden return to form and made love to her over and over, until Buffy lay back, exhausted, and declared she'd never move again.
"So that's how I get you to rest."
"Not quite what the doctor ordered."
"Well, no, but a whole lot more fun."
She fell asleep spooned against him, and Spike held her close. "Love you, Summers," he said, and she replied drowsily, "I know."
"No, my lady, his orders were quite clear," Davis said. "I'm afraid you're to be taken off the grounds, and your horse too."
Glory stamped her foot. "But I'm his sister," she said.
"Stepsister, with all due respect," Davis said, thinking that that wasn't a lot of respect. "I'm afraid-"
"Oh, stop being so damn afraid," Glory said. "I just brought a gift for the baby," she opened her satchel and took out a teddy bear. "See? Isn't that adorable?"
"Quite, my lady. I shall see that it is delivered."
"Oh, but it can't hurt to take it up there myself," Glory wheedled. "I promise I won't go anywhere near Lady Dashwood's rooms. Just to the nursery. Is it where it always used to be?"
Davis opened his mouth to say no, then he nodded and said, "Yes, my lady. Ten minutes, and I shall be waiting back down here."
Glory knew where it was, because Harmony had shown her around the house ages ago, and she made her way to the south wing as quickly as she could, looked around the slightly bare room, and frowned.
She caught a passing maid outside. "What happened to the nursery? It looks a bit bleak."
"Oh, it's not the nursery any more. The baby will have a room next to his lordship's."
Glory nodded, her eyes narrowed. "Uh-huh. I see. Well, then," she waved the teddy bear, "I'll have to take him there, won't I?"
She strode off before the maid, who was new, could quite figure out who she was. One of her ladyship's American friends, probably.
Glory found Spike and Buffy's rooms, but even she wasn't crazy enough to go in. She could hear lots of happy gasping noises coming from within, and rolled her eyes. Ugh. Must be like fucking a sealion.
She went to the room next door, which was prettily decorated with fluffy things and lots of toys and mobiles, and tucked her teddy bear down with all the rest, facing the crib. She reached in the gap in its back, and flicked on the little hidden transmitter inside. Then she fiddled with the webcam Spike had set up until she was happy.
Ah, perfect.
She took a notepad from her bag, wrote a little note and pinned it on the outside of the crib, facing the camera set up to the monitor in Buffy and Spike's room. As an afterthought, she took off her riding jacket, removed her black and red bra, and dropped it in the baby's crib, then fastened her jacket back over her bare breasts. Hell to ride a horse braless, but worth it later. Besides, it wasn't a horse she was planning on riding.
Then she went downstairs, smiled at Davis, and allowed him to escort her and her horse off the grounds, chattering happily to him all the while.
Buffy slept soundly for the first time in weeks, and Spike lay awake looking at her. She was so beautiful, her hair falling softly over her shoulders, her hand up by her face, curled around the pillow. She was lovely. And she was his.
He stretched a little and glanced over at the baby monitor, which they'd left on to get used to the glow.
And then he looked properly.
And then he scrambled out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and raced next door.
Glory's note said, "Not as invincible as you think, Precious. I need to talk to you about Buffy and the baby. It's very important. Meet me at the Ten Bells tonight - I'll be there all night."
He crumpled the note in his fist and threw it out of the window, wanting to yell but afraid of waking Buffy. He didn't want to see Glory - if he did, he might kill her, but, oh God, if she knew something... If it was about that day when she'd hurt Buffy, if something else had happened they didn't know about, it could be damaging and he needed to know.
"Bollocks," he said, going back into his room and pulling on his boots and a shirt. He pressed kissed fingers to Buffy's hair, then left, walking out into the warm dark night.
Willow and Tara slept curled together in the middle of a deliciously large bed, both naked, in deference to the heat as much as each other. Outside the air was thick and heavy, the sun hadn't been out much and Tara said a storm was coming.
"Wake me," Willow said, "if there's lightning."
"Are you afraid of it?"
"No, I like to watch it."
"I don't like storms," Tara confessed.
"Ah, baby, then I'll watch and you can hide," Willow pulled her girlfriend close, "right here."
But it wasn't the storm that woke either of them. It was the telephone.
"Oh God," Willow said, "what if it's Joyce?"
"I think that's an internal ring," Tara said. "We'd better answer."
Willow reached over and picked up. "Hello?"
"Willow? It's Buffy. I know it's the middle of the night, but I have a problem. Could you come over?"
Willow rubbed sleep out of her eyes. "Isn't Spike there? Or is this a, er, a girlie problem?"
"No, it's - it's something different. Can you come over?"
Willow said she would and replaced the receiver, frowning. "She wants me to go over."
"It's the middle of the night!"
"I know." Willow pushed back the covers. "So it must be important."
She grabbed her pyjamas and pulled them on. "Coming?"
"I suppose so," Tara said, rather intrigued.
They made their way through the dark house, which was slightly spooky when it was so empty of light and people, and even spookier when the distant rumble of thunder shook through the ancient corridors. Willow felt for her girlfriend's hand as they walked, and Tara held it tight.
Buffy was pacing her bedroom floor, and Spike was gone. Willow started to ask what was going on, when Buffy pointed to the computer monitor set up on the far side of the room. The lights on the computer gave off an eerie green glow.
"Is that it?" Willow asked. "You can't sleep for the glow?"
"No," Buffy said. "Look. It's supposed to be showing the baby's room but it's not, and when I tried to check the connection it was showing something else in the, the loop or whatever. Giles said you're really good with computers, can you fix it?"
Willow gave her a look of incredulity. This was what she'd been called out for in the middle of the night?
"I'm not crazy," Buffy said. "It's just I can't sleep anyway and - and I don't know where Spike's gone, he's not answering his cell, and there's something wrong, I know it."
"It's okay," Tara said. "Willow'll figure it out. She's really good with computers and stuff."
Willow nodded reassuringly and sat down at the computer. She clicked through a few pages of code, frowning.
"There's another device attached... I'm not sure how... Wait a sec..."
She got up and left the room, and Tara was left smiling awkwardly at Buffy.
"So, how's it going?"
"Oh, great," Buffy said. "My stepsister-in-law tried to kill me and my husband has gone missing. My mother is in hospital and my sixteen year old sister is all alone nine thousand miles away. All I need now is a miscarriage and everything will be great."
"Oh," Tara said.
"I'm sorry," Buffy gave her a smile, "I'm sort of on edge. I tend to make things over dramatic."
"It's okay, you're just worried," Tara said, and Willow came back in. "What is it? Did you figure it out?"
Willow nodded, still frowning, looking vaguely puzzled. "There is another device, and I'm not sure how it's connected - the signal is overriding the webcam... Hold on..."
She tapped a few keys, clicked the mouse a few times, and a picture flickered up on screen. "Oh, thank you-" Buffy began, and then she realised what the picture was. "Is that the Ten Bells?"
Willow and Tara looked at each other. "Uh, maybe we got into the wrong loop," Willow said, and was about to close the window when Buffy's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
"That's Glory."
"Oh, is that her?"
"She's pretty," Tara said doubtfully.
"She's rank," Buffy said, and Willow nodded.
"Really trashy. What, is that riding outfit sprayed on?"
"Well, yes," Tara said meekly, "I guess she's a bit unsubtle..."
"Is that Spike?" Willow said, and there was a fabulous lightning strike at exactly the same moment.
They watched Spike pick up a large tumbler of something highly potent and down it, Glory was clearly flirting, touching Spike's sleeve, looking up at him adoringly.
Willow and Tara were frozen.
"She's just messing around," Buffy said. "She's just doing it to piss me off, she's..."
She stumbled backwards and grabbed the phone by her bed, and stabbed the redial button. On screen, they all watched as Spike ignored the ringing phone on the pub table and Glory picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Glory? Why do you have Spike's phone?"
"Who is this?"
"You know who it is. I'm his wife. Remember?"
Glory smiled up at Spike, who was getting pissed and maudlin pretty quickly. He'd been careless enough to leave his phone out on the table when he went to the gents, and it had taken only a few seconds for Glory to switch his SIM card for hers. Her phone had been ringing silently all night for him, and he'd thought they were all Glory's calls.
"Is there something I can do for you, sweetie?"
"You can hand me over to him. Right now."
"I don't think that's going to be possible. He said he doesn't want to speak to you. Baby," she looked up at Spike, "I'm just gonna take this outside, where the signal's better?"
He shrugged like he didn't care.
"The hell you will," Buffy yelled, but they could already see her leaving the view on the computer screen. "Willow, Tara, get me the number of that pub, I need to speak to Spike now."
"I just told you, sweetie," Glory said, background noise fading away and rain drumming heavily above her as she stood in the pub's little vestibule, "he's not interested. He's spent all night telling me what a godawful screw you are. He fucked you tonight just to shut you up. You think he likes boning a whale?"
"Shut up," Buffy said, tears coming to her eyes.
"He knows the baby's not his anyway," Glory went on blithely, "he doesn't really care. As soon as it's born he's declaring it his legal heir and divorcing you."
"Okay, you know what?" Buffy said. "As soon as I've had this baby I'm gonna come and kick your ass for talking so much bullshit. You've tried to split us up before and I don't know what your game is but-"
"Did he try that little trick where he puts ice on the back of your neck?" Glory said, and Buffy shut up. "He discovered it in college. Man, we had some fun with that."
She's making it up, Buffy told herself, but Glory's next question made her knees buckle and she collapsed onto the bed.
"Did he do the thing with the coffee and the ice cube? Wow, that was the best orgasm I have ever, ever had. The bit where he rubs the ice right down over your-"
"Shut up!" Buffy screamed.
"Oh, sweetie baby, didn't he ever do that one on you? I guess after he figured out about Riley he sort of lost interest, huh? You haven't been screwing that much lately. Even someone as horny as Spike can't bring himself to put it in a goddamn elephant like you. Not that I mind, of course," she purred, "it's all to my advantage. You know, last week, while you were watching Steel Magnolias with your lesbian friends and telling each other that at least you don't have diabetes, I was handcuffing your husband to the steering wheel in that big comfy car of his and screwing his brains out."
"You're lying-"
"Am I? Ask him what he was doing this afternoon? That gunshot? Well, you know how he likes to play rough-"
"You are talking so much crap-"
"So tell me how my bra ended up in your baby's nursery?" Glory said, and Buffy covered the phone and said to Willow, "Go check. The nursery."
"What for?" Buffy closed her eyes. "Lingerie."
Willow frowned, but off she went, leaving Tara to sit and watch Spike getting drunker and drunker on the monitor. A few seconds later Willow was back, anxiously holding up a rather tacky stripper-type bra.
"You planted it there," Buffy said, her voice low and almost steady.
"If that's what you want to tell yourself," Glory said, and sauntered back into the pub, unfastening her jacket as she did. She walked up to Spike, turned him round to be in full view of the camera she'd planted earlier, and ostentatiously dropped her phone in his glass.
Then she hooked an arm around his neck and kissed him and Spike, completely picked as a result of all the spiked drinks Glory had been feeding him, felt only a warm mouth on his and kissed her back. His hands slipped under her open jacket and Buffy caught a glimpse of bare breast before she finally got to the computer and pulled out the power cable.
For a few seconds, there was silence. Willow and Tara didn't need to have listened to know what was going on.
"Willow," Buffy said eventually, "did you bring a car?"
"No, but Spike lent us one of the estate cars to drive while we're here..."
Buffy nodded. "Get your things and meet me at the car in five minutes. All your things."
"What's going on?" Tara asked nervously. "You want us to leave?"
"No, I want me to leave," Buffy said. "I have to get out of here. I have to leave this house. I have to go. I have to get out. I have to leave." She started looking around, her hands darting here and there. "I need clothes. Spare clothes. And the things for the baby-"
"You're not going into labour are you?" Willow asked in shock.
"No! I just have to get out! We have to go. I have to go. Please, Will, Tara, help me?"
She grabbed their arms and her grip was horribly strong.
"We'll help you," Tara said, and Willow nodded, and then they both ran to their own room.
"I think she's gone crazy," Willow said as she pulled on some clothes and threw her pyjamas into her suitcase.
"I think she's just in shock," Tara said. "She's just found out Spike's cheating on her-"
"He was kissing her, that's not like real cheating," Willow said.
"You ever kiss another woman and I'll consider it cheating," Tara said with rare sharpness.
"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean - I just mean, he was really drunk and, and it's not like he's sleeping with her, right?"
Tara looked worried.
"Right?" Willow repeated.
Tara couldn't think of anything to say.
"Men are such bastards," Willow said, and slammed her suitcase shut.
Spike realised what he was doing as soon as his hand went inside Glory's jacket. Those were not Buffy's breasts - wait, that wasn't Buffy's hair, or her hands or her lips of anything!
He shoved Glory away from him and stared in horror at her. Everyone else in the pub cheered and she executed a little bow.
Spike reached over the bar, grabbed the nearest bottle, and smashed it over Glory's head.
The bar went silent as she slithered to the floor in a pool of blood and broken glass. The landlord picked up his phone and dialled for the police.
"So where are we going?" Willow asked as they bounced down the drive, Buffy holding onto herself and wincing. The car Spike had lent Willow was one of the ancient rusting Defenders and any suspension it had ever had had died years ago.
"How far are we from Yorkshire?"
"We're in it. Aren't we?"
Tara nodded. "But it's a big place. Three counties."
"Which one is Giles's cottage in?"
"His shooting cottage? North Yorkshire."
Tara got out a map and squinted at it in the darkness. There was no interior light in the car.
"I don't think it's all that far," she said. "If you can get to the, uh, A1, then I think it's not too far..."
"Good," Buffy said, and gripped her seatbelt hard as they went over another pothole and she felt her whole body jar.
When they got onto a regular road it was easier, and the three girls fell silent, Tara dozing in the back of the car, Buffy staring straight ahead along the motorway, trying not to think about how foolish she'd been. All this time she'd thought Spike didn't mind not having sex, and all this time he'd been screwing Glory. That vile little tramp! When she'd confronted Buffy in the conservatory, it wasn't about family pride, it was about getting her lover back.
'Precious,' she thought, and one of the Shakespeare quotes she'd absorbed came back to her. 'Wherefore speaks he this to her he hates?'
Oh God, I've been so stupid.
The storm was in full force, and Buffy's depressed and shocked mind was starting to think they'd be on the road forever when suddenly Willow took a turning down a horribly muddy road and Buffy spied something familiar.
"This is it, we're nearly there."
Except that last time she'd been here was with Spike. The first time they'd slept together. And the second, and the third, fourth, fifth... Buffy had lost count. It had only been one night.
She pressed her hand to her huge belly. She wondered if it had been then they'd made the baby - oh, but no, it must have been later. In that tiny cottage by the loch in Scotland. They'd spent weeks doing very little but eat, sleep and make love. In fact, that was all they ever seemed to do. There was no connection. Who was she fooling? They knew nothing about each other. All she knew was that he had dreadful punky taste in music and he'd been shagging his stepsister.
"This is it," she said as Willow stopped the car.
"This is it?" Tara said doubtfully. "It looks kinda... rustic."
"It's a little bit basic," Buffy said, "but it'll - oh, God!"
She gripped the car door and slithered down to the mud, the rain lashing her face.
"What?" Willow rushed around in alarm and Tara scrambled from the car. "Buffy, what is it?"
Buffy looked down. It was dark, and she was muddy, but she knew that the dark stain on her skirt was blood. "I think that was my first contraction," she whispered.
Willow and Tara stared at each other in horror.
"Can I get inside?" Buffy pointed to the cottage, which was tantalisingly close. The girls pulled her to her feet and half carried her into the tiny stone building, which had a fireplace and a big stone sink, and a bed in one corner. Tara flicked on the stark, bare bulb, and they laid Buffy down on the bed. She was covered in mud and blood and neither of them were sure if it was rainwater that soaked her face, or sweat.
"You get everything in from the car," Willow said to Tara, "I'll call 911."
"999," Buffy corrected. "I don't think it's that bad. I mean, aren't you supposed to be in labour for hours after your first contraction? My mom said with me it was a day and a half," she said, and gave a little smile, hoping desperately that it'd be different with her. Just a couple of hours, a bit of pushing, and a nice healthy baby she could take away from Spike and never allow him to see. Just like she'd planned in the first place. Stupid men, getting in the way of all her plans-
"Damn," Willow muttered.
"What?"
"I can't get any signal on my phone. Does your have a different network?"
But Buffy's phone didn't work either, and when Tara slammed the door shut against the storm and handed hers over, it was dead.
"I don't suppose this place has a phone line?" Willow asked without much hope.
"It doesn't even have hot water," Buffy said. "The toilet is in a hut outside."
"Well, then I - I guess we should find some wood for that fire and heat up some water," Tara said.
"What for?"
"I d-don't know, in films they always get hot water when someone's in labour."
"And scissors," Willow said.
"Oh God," Buffy said, and grabbed hold of Willow's hand as another contraction shot through her.
"Is she supposed to be bleeding like that?" Tara whispered to Willow as she folded Buffy's bloody clothes in a pile by the sink.
"I don't know. I'm not sure. I don't know anything about having babies," Willow whispered back.
"Me neither. Except you have to be really clean, because of all those infant deaths in Elizabethan London from midwives not washing their hands, remember?"
Willow nodded and managed a brief smile, remembering the essay.
"It's kinda hard to keep clean with all the blood, though," she said, glancing back at Buffy, who lay with her eyes closed, the sheets and blankets around her bright red and soaked through.
"Have you tried 999 again?"
Willow nodded. "I think the storm must have brought a transmitter down or something. I'm getting nothing here."
"We could try to get her in the car and-"
Willow shook her head. "It's nearly out of gas. We'd get down the drive and that's it. We're stuck here."
"Willow?" Buffy said, clutching her friend's sleeve, "what time is it?"
"It's nearly four."
"How long have I been in labour?"
"Um, about six hours."
"That's not so bad." She closed her eyes again and gripped Willow's hand hard. "I think that's another one," she whispered, and her whole body tensed and jerked and she cried out, tears leaking all over. "They're getting closer, right?"
"Yeah," Willow said, "closer."
But they'd been getting closer for hours, and as the storm got fiercer, so did Buffy's pain. She knew something was wrong, because she was bleeding so much and she was in more or less constant pain. It was getting so she could hardly tell when a contraction happened, because it was just a little more pain in a big world of Ow.
"Any luck with the phones?"
Willow shook her head. "We'll keep trying."
"It's getting light," Buffy said.
"Yep."
"Why is it getting light?"
"Uh, because it's morning?"
"But, but no baby..."
"Well, you said your mom was in labour for a day and a half," Willow said.
"She didn't... It was all gradual... When she had Dawn, I remember," Buffy fought the wave of pain crushing her, "there was pain and then... she pushed and then..."
"I'm not sure you're ready for the pushing," Tara said.
"But, but it's so close, they're so close..."
Willow and Tara exchanged a look. They didn't need to be medical experts to know something was very wrong.
"Oh God," Buffy moaned, gripping Willow's hand so hard something snapped, "oh..."
Willow bit down on her lip, determined not to cry out, and Tara grabbed her wrist, "Oh God, baby, is something broken?"
But Willow wasn't paying attention to her hand. Buffy's head was lolling to one side. Her eyes were closed. She wasn't moving.