Buffy woke slowly, aware of the weight pressed against her back. Angel. Ahh, she thought, pressing back into his firm body. I could get used to waking up like this.
She didn't want to move, but a rising nausea drove her to her feet, and from there to the toilet. When she was done, she sat back and wiped her mouth. As much as she hated this morning sickness, it gave her proof that there was indeed another life growing inside of her.
Angel, woken up by the sounds of her sickness, got up quickly. It wasn't in his nature to be up so early in the day, but he could hardly go back to sleep now. He crept across the room, careful to avoid the bars of sunlight that the curtains let fall across the floor.
He knelt down behind Buffy, who was still sitting on the floor. Rubbing her back in soothing circles, he said, "Buffy. We're going to have a baby."
She turned to look at him. "Well, duh." He smiled at her in awe. And then he leaned down and pressed his ear to her stomach. "Angel, you won't be able to hear the heart yet."
"I know," he said, but left his head in her lap and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist.
"You're gonna make a wonderful father, you know." She said softly, stroking his hair. He said nothing. She, of course, already knew what he was thinking about. He was thinking about Connor, and how he'd let him go, how he hadn't gotten a chance to raise him, and how in the end, it hadn't mattered, because Connor was dead now.
"Buffy," Angel said, "Maybe you shouldn't have this baby."
Buffy stopped her cooing and stroking, and stared at him. "What?"
"I said, maybe you shouldn't have this baby. Childbirth is dangerous, Buffy. You could die. And as much as I want a son or daughter, I don't want to lose you because of it. You haven't even lived yet."
"Angel, just because Darla had to kill herself to give birth doesn't mean I'm going to have the same experience." Buffy said, hitting right on the root of the problem. She was beginning to be irritated with his overprotective attitude. It wasn't like she hadn't been the Slayer for the past eight years. Angel winced.
Buffy couldn't quite feel sorry for him, though. He wanted her to get rid of her child because there was the possibility that she might not make it.
"But Buffy, women die in childbirth all the time. Just because you're the Slayer doesn't mean it couldn't happen to you! Please, just think!"
"What are you saying, Angel?" Buffy asked, dangerously quiet. "You think that I'm not aware of the danger? Am I too immature, perhaps? Because if that's the reason, then maybe you shouldn't be sleeping with me!!" Buffy stood up and walked out of the bathroom in disgust.
"You know that's not true," Angel said, his hurt-puppy dog face coming into action. But Buffy wasn't there to see it.
He followed her out into the main bedroom. But she was nowhere to be seen. Her scent still lingered in the room, fresh and heavy with hormones. He knew she was only so angry because of unbalanced hormones. But he doubted that telling her that would make things any better. He could have followed her easily, but at that point, he knew that he could only make things worse.
And if there was one thing he'd learned in two hundred and forty years of living, it was patience.
***
He sat alone on the bed for a long while, waiting for her to come back. When it was apparent that she wasn't going to, at least not for a long time, he decided to get up and go see what he could find out about their situation.
The first person he ran into out in the hallway was Matt. He growled involuntarily when he saw him, and the growl became a snarl when he smelled Buffy all over him. He grabbed Matt by the shirt and threw him up against the wall.
"Where is she? What's going on? Why--" here he sniffed the air obviously, "do you smell like her?"
Matt smirked. "All very good questions. But I'm not sharing the answers. Now if you'll kindly let me down from here."
Angel snarled and slammed him back against the wall. There was a sharp snap as his head connected with the wall, and Matt gave a little moan. But the grin stayed on his face and he said, "Well, the reason I smell like her might be because we--ah, but you probably don't want to hear about that." Angel slammed him against the wall again. Rage filled his sight, and a small part of him wondered how things had spun out of control so very, very quickly. Matt grinned. "Oh, alright, we screwed. Man, she's damn good in the sack. But then, you already know that, don't you? I'll tell you though, she was much easier to get to when you were human."
Angel roared in outright rage and hurt. He knew he shouldn't believe it. He knew that Buffy would never... But the rational part of him was ruled out by pure animal instinct. He threw Matt against the opposite wall, and the sharp scent of blood filled the air. This slimeball would dare touch Buffy? Or even insinuate that she would have anything to do with him?
Matt moaned in earnest this time and his eyes rolled up in his head. And that's when Angel went flying down the hall and landed hard on his butt. Buffy stood next to Matt's slumped form, face flushed and nostrils dilated with rage. "HOW DARE YOU?!?"
Angel blinked his golden eyes. She'd never been this mad at him, in all the time that he'd known her. Another sharp burst of blood scent came on, only this was more powerful blood. Slayer blood. Buffy's fists were clenched so hard they were dripping blood.
It was at that point that Angel thought it prudent to back away. He couldn't bear to have her so angry at him, and he could feel his heart breaking. But another, more horrifying prospect emerged. What if she actually, physically attacked him? He knew that he would just lie there and take it, but he also knew that the guilt of it would kill her once she calmed down. He wanted desperately to make things right, but he couldn't risk making them worse. He stood up and backed down the hallway, never turning his back on her.
"Buffy, I'm sorry," he said softly, as if speaking to a dangerous animal. Buffy didn't speak, just shot him a murderous glare and hefted Matt's unconscious form onto her shoulders. Angel bit his lip to keep from saying anything about straining herself or hurting the baby.
She left him standing alone in the hall.
***
Buffy didn't realize she was bleeding until she noticed the crimson spots staining Matt's shirt.
"Damn it!" Upon closer inspection, she could pick out the four half-crescents of her nails on each hand. She sighed. They were already beginning to heal.
She sat with Matt's unconscious form on his bed. He really hadn't turned out to be so bad. A bit prickly perhaps, but she'd dealt with worse. A flash of white-blonde hair and black leather shot into her brain unbidden. Spike. The word a whisper in her brain that made her shiver. /I hurt the girl. I'm a bad man./
Bad memories chased her back into the present, and she steadfastly ignored the voices in the back of her head. /It's alright. I forgive you, Spike./ Had she ever said that? Should she have? Did she forgive him?
Closure, dammit! She punched the wall, and her bleeding fist was ripped open again. She grunted with the pain. Spike was dead. But Angel wasn't.
She wasn't sure she even wanted to think about Angel. He'd...god, he'd gone all psycho jealous on her again. He'd hurt an innocent person because he'd helped her, and because he'd been near her. He was out of control. No, he was too much in control. He was trying to dictate her life and anyone he didn't approve of would get hurt. It just infuriated her. It was against everything she was. She was not an item, or a weakling, or a possession. Angel had no right.
She stood up and went into the bathroom to wrap her bleeding hand. She didn't suppose Matt would be too happy to wake up covered in her blood.
When she looked in the mirror, she didn't like what she saw. She didn't have that healthy, radiant look that most pregnant women got. She looked stressed out and tired. She looked away and placed a hand on her stomach. She wasn't showing yet, but she wondered exactly how far along she was. A month, at least.
She wondered idly if there were any doctors among the refugees. She should probably stop slaying, or doing any kind of fighting or strenuous exercise. More than ever she was aware of her mortality and the possibility of injury. And what should she do about prenatal care? Or nutrition? Or child care? She didn't know any of these things. Come to think of it, she didn't know much of anything about babies. What was she going to do?
She sat down heavily on the bed, and that was when she realized that Matt was awake. He blinked slowly and smiled at her. "You look like hell," he said.
She didn't look at him. "What am I going to do?" Her voice was high and panicky, and she stared blankly into space.
"About what?"
"My baby! What am I going to do? I don't know anything about babies! How am I going to give birth? How am I going to take care of the baby after I have it? What if it gets sick? What if I lose it?"
"You're pregnant!?" Buffy slowed her flow of words when she remembered that Matt hadn't known.
"Um, yeah."
"How'd you let that happen? It's that creep Angel's, isn't it? Oh my god, what are you going to do?" Buffy, instead of hurting her hand again, punched the pillow.
"One; you should know how it happens; you had a girlfriend, right? Two; Angel is by no definition a creep. He's been through a lot of shit lately and besides, you don't even know him. And three; that's what I was asking YOU!"
Matt looked a bit taken aback. "Well, alright then. I think we can figure this out. I'm gonna go see if my dad knows anyone who can help. A doctor or a nurse or something. There are like, three hundred people here; one of them's got to have some sort of medical training. While I'm gone you just stay here. And don't let Angel in, please."
Buffy bristled at his orders. What did he mean by 'we'? The last time she'd checked, the only 'we' involved was her and Angel. But she also couldn't help but be secretly relieved. Someone was taking charge of the situation, and for once, it wasn't her. She forgot her anger for a moment and wished that it was Angel taking care of her and treating her like this. She dismissed the thought. Even if she was ready to forgive him, Angel was probably pretty pissed at her right about now.
Okay, so maybe he hadn't been that harsh. Maybe she was overreacting. He'd meant well. And she really didn't know what was going on when she'd gotten there. She'd just assumed...
Angel's hurt and scared eyes flashed into her mind. Panic gripped her and her eyes widened. She stood up from the bed and walked briskly out the door. She had to find him before it was too late.