Part 4

Waking up was always the hardest part of the day. Buffy used to have to get up at seven for school (which really meant seven forty-five and rushing). She would moan and groan her way through her alarm clock before her mom came in and demanded that she "get out of bed right now!" And after repeating that action a couple of times, all the while with Joyce getting more and more galled, she would finally succumb and crawl uneagerly out of bed, dragging the blankets with her across the floor. And when Buffy had gone down to eat her customary breakfast of a donut (much to the distress of Mommy), Joyce would go into her room and make the bed. She was a perfectionist in every sense of the word and couldn't have one tiny thing out of place.

Buffy had been awake now for nearly a half an hour. She lay in bed, however, and didn't open her eyes. She knew that if she did, then she would have to face the day. The sun winked over her lids, trying as it did every morning to make her get up. Judging from how bright it was, Buffy guessed it was about nine. Nine o'clock on a Wednesday morning. First period. Science. God, she missed school! She actually wanted to get up and scramble around pointlessly before her mom yelled at her for not eating healthy and stuffed her in the car for their annual morning lecture. But her alarm had been quiet for eons and she had no motive to turn it back on just so she could sleep over it. That didn't mean she didn't want to. Because she did.

"Is she awake?"

Buffy's eyes finally decided to peek out and the second she did, she wished she hadn't. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy when they visited (which they did, without fail, everyday), it was just… Well, the only reason they did was because they felt like they were obligated to come. They had tried to convince her countless times that she was their friend and that was why they came. It had nothing to do with pity. But sometimes she didn't know.

"Of course she is," Cordelia said with a dismissive tone, brushing off Willow's question. "Buffy, time to get out of that bed."

"Cordy," Xander reproved, "maybe we should just let her sleep. She needs her rest."

"Oh please. We've been over this many times. Buffy sleeps too much. Buffy, rise and shine."

This was now her familiar morning routine. Why they came over every morning on their way to school, she didn't know but guessed it had something to do with the fact that they were slightly worried she just would just stay in bed all day and rot. Which, come to think of it, she probably would…

Willow sat down next on the bed as Buffy shifted into a sitting position. "Hi. How ya doing?"

Buffy constrained a somewhat believable smile (which didn't fool any one of them for a second).

"Any weird cravings yet?" Xander asked, eager to provide assistance in the one thing he knew best.

Cordy rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "My God, Xander, is that all you think about? Sex and food?"

Xander gave her an irked look but decided not to follow-up on the question, which Buffy didn't really seem to hear. She wasn't in the room with them. She never was. She could look them in the eye and yet at the same time be a million miles away. But they came to see her regardless, ignoring the fact that she was like someone who had fallen into a coma.

"Look at this, Buffy," Willow said, trying (as always) to engage her. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a dark brown box and plopped in down on the bed. "It's candy and Snyder's making us sell it for the band. Can you believe that?"

Xander shook his head. "I still stick by my outlook on this whole thing: he can't make us!"

Cordy rolled her eyes at his expectant grin and not-very-clever point. She turned to Buffy, who had long since become a spectator of the once lively conversations, and said, "Anyway, we have to sell all these by next week or else. Whatever."

"Cordelia," Willow said resentfully, "next week as in three days from now. Nobody's buying them! We're going to end up buying three hundred dollars worth or chocolate bars! We're desperate here!"

"Hey, Buff," Xander said, tone casual, "you wouldn't happen to have a few extra C notes lying around somewhere, now would ya?"

"Xander, for goodness sake," Cordy hushed. "Don't beg off a pregnant woman! Have you no shame? And besides, I already got someone to buy them from us."

"What? How?" Willow looked sharply at the other girl, her eyes demanding to be told why she hadn't been informed.

"Oh, did I not tell you guys? Oops. Oh well, know ya know. And it's not that big of a deal. I mean, he's rich so what's three hundred bucks to him anyway. Come to think of it, we could get more candy and then sell more and then maybe, just maybe, Snyder will welcome us with open arms…"

"Don't you mean the band will welcome us with their maracas, Cor?" Xander prodded pointedly. "And who in their right mind would want those hats anyway?"

"That coming from the person who wears seventies hula shirts to school everyday," Cordy shot back, wondering why she was defending the stupid band. Well, anything to fight with her boyfriends. Hmm…boyfriend…yay…

Xander gave her a hurt look and glanced down at his attire. "Fine…"

Willow let out a rushed sigh, a sure sign of her growing impatience. "Would you guys stop acting like fifth graders-"

Xander: "Hey! Fifth was my best year!"

Cordelia: "Sure it was."

"-and concentrate at the pressing matter at hand!"

"What matter?" Cordelia asked blankly.

Willow, who was growing more and more the color of the hair by the second, gave a withering look and said, "Our donator! Our buyer! Hello!"

"Oh, that again." Cordy sighed, not understanding why Willow thought sell band-candy was going to make or break her academic career. "I got Angel to do it."

Buffy had been silently sitting there while they talked (er- argued). She always did. It was so hard to believe that a couple months ago she was the biggest contributor to whatever the topic was. She felt more and more useless as each day passed. All she could do while they talked was listen. She now had denounced the expression about being a fly on the wall. 'Cause it was way overrated. On an average day, she would say yes or no a few times and managed a few appropriate grunts and nods, but never said anything unless she was asked something.

That was why her three friends were quiet with shock for a moment when they heard her…speak…? "Ang- M-Mr. O'Connor's…b-back?"

"What?" Willow whispered, in almost fascination. "Did you…s-say something?"

Buffy swallowed at the odd attention she was receiving from them. She felt trapped and unable breathe regularly. She was pinned-in inside her own room. "Is he back?" she asked, her voice scratchy and unsteady.

"Yes," Cordy said, the first to snap out of it. "He's back and oh my God, you just said something out of your own free will! Progress!"

The room instantly erupted with congratulations and "yay Buffy"! If someone were to walk in, they would probably feel dumb for forgetting to bring their pom-poms, body-paint and beer. It was like the twilight zone and Buffy was still suffocating. God, they were surrounding her! She had to move…had to get out. Their arms were too close to her; everything was too warm. She could hear their happy voices but the words swirled together and her brain muddled the sound. She could feel their breath on her face as they simultaneously embraced her, and she needed too breathe. She couldn't breathe! Her head was spinning and she felt a sour taste rise dangerously in her throat. Cordelia let out one final laugh and Buffy pushed her way through them as she felt her insides give way to nausea.

~~~

"Mr. Harris, would you care to explain to me why you're a half an hour late to class?"

Xander subconsciously shuddered. Two reasons: one, because the man scared that shit out of him. OK, so he was Cordy's cousin. So what? He was scary as hell and made Xander feel the need to flashback to second grade when he'd peed in his pants because some bully called him a chicken. Boy, was that man terrifying. But anyway: The other reason for his shudder was another recap; this time, it was of that morning. "Well, Mr. O'Connor, I went to a friend's house and she…got a little sick. We had to take her to the hospital."

Angel felt his entire body tense. His thoughts immediately went to the girl who had been on the surface of his mind for the past few days, ever since he'd gotten home. He couldn't even formulate the thought that she could be hurt. But he couldn't just ask Xander Harris, of all people, if it was her, so instead he went the safe way out:

"Is it Cordelia?" She was a secure way of getting answers. He felt slightly guilty for always using her, but he had to come across as a family kind of guy (which he was). He had to know.

"No. It was Buffy Summers," Xander said with a shake of his head, mentally cringing at how drastically his girlfriend had flipped out when Buffy passed-out.

Despite the panic that had instantly taken over his body, Angel still heard the inflamed murmur that washed through the classroom. He couldn't decide whether to issue them all a month of detention for daring to gossip about Buffy or to sprint out of the room and run randomly around town until her found her. But alas, he did neither. Instead, he gripped the edge of his desk restraining himself from going insane with despair and managed to say, more to himself than anyone else, "Well, I-I'm sure Miss Summers will be fine." After a not-at-all calming breath, he grabbed a book and practically ripped out all the pages. "Please open your text to page two-seventy-seven."

~~~

Everything was so white. The walls, the sheets, the machines… God even the people looked white; like ghosts. The lights were so bright as they glared hatefully at her, and again she felt like she was trapped. It might have been the lights. They seemed to say, 'Move and I'll get you.' That was what petrified her most about hospitals: the white rooms and the lights that came in them. They had her hooked her up to a machine that beeped and beeped and beeped and beeped and wouldn't stop beeping. She had been listening to just that monitor for the entire day and, had she not been so tired, she would have gone completely out of her mind. But she was just too tired…so tired…

The door opened and a bolt of voices rushed in.

"Well, Buffy, you're looking much better." The doctor smiled encouragingly at her as he took a seat in the chair next to the metal bed. "How do you feel?"

"I-" She coughed a little as she voice came out hoarse. "I'm feeling…better."

"Excellent. So, I've consulted your report and you're mother and decided to keep you here for the night. It's just so we can monitor your condition but you'll be able to go home tomorrow morning. Now…" He glanced down at the files in his hands. "Did Dr. Taft explain to you what happened?"

"H-he did but I don't think it was English."

The doctor laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard before saying, "Well, then allow me to reiterate. Due to the…stress you seemed to be undergoing, the fetus was effected in similar ways and…well, I suppose you could say it retaliated." Off Buffy's utterly blank look, he said, "Not too severe but… Buffy, you're going to have a baby."

"Uh…I-I know?"

The doctor shook his head. "That's not what I mean. You're going to a have a baby. You have to take care of it. And in order to that you have to take care of yourself." He held her eyes until she looked away. "Your mineral count is very low. No enough iron, not enough protein…you need more vitamins of every kind. Buffy, you need them. I hate to be harsh but if you continue to neglect your body, you're going to lose your baby."

If time could stop, it would have done in there. The doctor watched as the blonde's eyes clouded over with pain. She pressed her hands earnestly against her abdomen and tried not to cry out at the notion that she was killing her daughter.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Buffy?"

She looked up at the doctor and for the first time, she really looked. She met his eyes and nodded briskly, as if a large burst of energy forced it's way into her body. "I understand."