Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon
created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this
is based on.
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.
Author's Notes: Hello, my precious! More another chapter to start the weekend. I have a pretty good feeling that you'll like this one. Let's just say, without ruining it, that things are about to change for the better. Sorry it's so long, but it's not as bad as the chapter I archived just a few days ago. Anyway, here it is, I hope you love it. Kisses!
PS: Angel (no, he's just a figment of Buffy's imagination in this chapter) and Buffy say two lines that I stole from Linkin Park's "Pushing Me Away". Go, listen to it. It's a very good, sad song. That's all I have to say for now. ____________________________________________________________________________
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Chapter Nine- A Special Day
If the United States government decided to take a break everyday something even remotely special happened, the entire year would be taken off. Nothing would happen, because certain days are important to certain people, whether it be birthdays, anniversaries, religious holidays, paydays, and so on.
When Buffy began the day that July morning, knowing it had been one month since she made a home in the Wal-Mart, she wasn't sure if it was a day to celebrate.
On the negative side, she had to remind herself that she had no actual home. She couldn't get mail, have friends over, or even register to vote when she turned eighteen in November, if she actually wanted to vote. And she knew that, any day, she would go into labor. The hot, humid days were taking a toll on her body, and every single joint was swollen and painful. Just to walk downtown was tiring.
But, as she pushed open the door to the library that morning, the light buzz of the air conditioning providing little comfort, she knew that getting stuck in Sunnydale might be the best thing that ever happened to her.
"Hello?" she called out, but it echoed through the empty building.
She then heard laughter coming from behind the closed door of the reading room.
"Is anyone in here?" asked the young woman, opening the large wooden door a crack.
"Nope! Don't come in! No one's here!"
Buffy pushed the door open more, revealing a grinning Spike and a smiling Tara.
"Asshole."
Both he and Tara stood up. "Nice to see you too, luv." Then, he pulled the pregnant girl into a hug.
"Hi Buffy," Tara whispered, also giving her friend a hug.
During the past few weeks, Buffy had been introduced, and in the case of Tara, re-introduced to the people of Sunnydale. It seemed that she always had somewhere to be, someone to hang out with, someone keeping her company. Three days this week, she, Cordelia, and Tara had tea at the Magic Box during Tara's lunch hour.
"Why aren't you at work, Miss McClay? There might be some desperate person out there who needs potting soil or . . . slug poison," teased Buffy.
Since she felt so comfortable around her new friend, she flipped off the blonde.
"Giles asked me to look at his hydrangeas before I got to work, but I had to spend a little time with my honey." She gave a blushing Spike a kiss on his cheek.
"You know," Buffy began, sitting in one of the over-stuffed chairs, "I really think you and Spike should get together. You might be the one person who keeps his god-damn mouth shut."
"Ouch! That really hurts." Clutching his chest, Spike fell into another chair, his face distorted in fake pain.
Tara laughed. "I don't think Spike and I would work out."
"Oh, can't you just give it a chance?"
Spike shook his head. "Nope. Tara belongs to that large, prestigious club of women who will never go out with me."
"Actually," Tara corrected, "I belong to that smaller club of women who will never go out with men."
He waved his hand in dismissal. "Tomato, tah-matah. One less girl who will sleep with me."
Both females laughed as Spike began to pout, his lower lip slightly sticking out.
"And on that lovely note, I have to get to work." Tara picked up her large, hippie style bag, gave both her friends a wave, then walked out of the room.
"So, what are your plans for today," asked Buffy, stretching her legs out on a nearby ottoman.
"Organize, shelve, and other boring library related shit. You?"
"A fun-filled day of helping you and Giles out, then dinner at Cordelia and Xander's."
Nodding, he began to absently pick at the arm of the chair. "Shouldn't you be going to a doctor soon?"
Her eyes widened. "Why?"
"Well, Cordy's goin' every other day. You're farther along, so shouldn't you be going?"
"Um . . ."
"I have a friend, Willow. She's a resident at the hospital, but she's got some connections with the baby doctors. I could help you set up an appointment."
"I . . . well, I . . ."
She was caught in another lie. Most of the time, she would fabricate some story, making up some answer that would satisfy the person. On rare occasions . . .
"Ah, Buffy, you're here."
She'd get interrupted.
Giles walked in the room, flipping through a beaten up periodical while munching on an apple.
Glad for the distraction, Buffy hastily stood up, greeting the older man and idly chatting.
If she had any idea how much Spike knew, she probably would have come clean. But as it was, she thought her secret was exactly that: a secret.
Frowning, he observed the young girl talking to his uncle. She didn't know that he would follow her home every night, making sure she got in safely, or that he made sure she had somewhere to spend the afternoon and places to eat. Not that anyone was complaining. It seemed that his circle of friends had taken to the lively girl, in some ways adopting her. He never told them why, just that she had no one else to be with, and he was worried.
Giles, Xander, and Clem were blissfully clueless. They liked Buffy, so having her around was no problem. But Joyce, Cordelia, Anya, and Tara had one theory as to why Spike was so protective when it dealt with Buffy. And in a way, they were right, but that's a completely different story, for a completely different time.
"William, we should probably get started," Giles said, dragging Spike out from his deep thoughts.
"Right." He stood, following his uncle and Buffy out to the bookshelves.
"Buffy, I need you to go through the records, and check in the returned books. You remember how to do that?"
"Uh huh."
"And William, you need to take care of something upstairs before you start your daily work."
"Got it."
Buffy saw some sort of unspoken agreement between pass between the two men, but did not ask. She wasn't supposed to know.
"Alright, let's get started."
All three turned in opposite directions, going towards their particular areas.
Spike stopped and wheeled around, about to ask Giles a question, when he saw Buffy double over, clutching her stomach.
Giles saw it too, because he dropped the book he was holding.
"Buffy!"
Immediately, they were at her side, Giles running a hand along her back while Spike kneeled in front of her.
Her face was twisted, and she was biting down on her lower lip, occasionally moaning in pain.
As soon as it started, it passed, and then she righted herself.
"I'll be fine," she gasped, rubbing her temples.
The nephew and uncle exchanged expressions.
"Luv, that didn't look exactly right," Spike whispered, standing up.
Giles agreed. "Something like that shouldn't happen."
Trying to reassure the two, an article she had read long ago popped into her mind.
"Actually, I think it's just indigestion."
Frowning, Spike cocked his head to the side. "Indigestion?"
"Mmmhmm."
Another look passed between the relatives, and seemed to set them at ease.
"If something else like that happens, you make sure to tell us," Giles requested, every bit the lecturing parent.
"No problem."
Giles laughed, pulling her into a quick hug.
"Enough drama for today, let's get back on task."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
# # # # #
The chain pulling them up to the peak made a clacking noise, a rhythm that could be put to music. Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack. Up went Colossus, taking another trip of terror.
Buffy took this moment of peace to gaze at her companions. Angel sat to her left, staring down at the park below and all of the people, who looked like ants.
She smiled at him. He was always observing. Always a thought whirling around his brain.
There was a cry to her right. Not a scream, but a cry of fear, high and small.
Turning her head, she finally saw the source of the cry. It was a little baby, safely strapped in a car seat. The baby was wrapped in a blanket, which was colorless, gray.
"Why are you so far away?" asked Angel. Buffy turned her attention back to him. He was, indeed, far away, his seat miles away.
"Because that's where you want me to be," she whispered, her voice unable to force out any loud sound.
"I never said that."
"It was implied."
"Implications can sometimes prove false."
Laughing, Buffy let her head tilt up, the bright sun warming her.
"You're not much of a lawyer."
"Good thing I'm a dentist," he responded.
She turned back to him, but he was gone.
"The sacrifice of hiding in a lie." Buffy was calling out to air, and the cart was at the top, ready to fall.
"Actually," his voice was still there, although it was hollow, blowing in the wind, a ghostly remainder. "The sacrifice is never knowing . . ."
"Never knowing what?"
But, she shut her mouth when a new screaming intruded, this one louder, feminine.
"What is that, Angel?"
His voice was all but gone, although his final word echoed in her ears.
"You."
# # # # #
As Buffy drifted into consciousness, the screaming went along with her. It wasn't until she felt an incredible stabbing pain in her stomach that she realized who the screaming came from.
"Oh, god!"
Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes, praying to every deity that she had ever heard of that the pain was a dream.
Although it felt like a million years, the pain finally passed, and she opened her eyes.
Wal-Mart was dark, only the light shining from street lamps outside illuminating the empty building. She could hear heavy rainfall pounding against the glass windows.
She sat up, pulling the sleeping bag open, and used her suddenly weak muscles to stand.
"What's going on," she murmured to herself as she crept to the patio table. A few pregnancy magazines and books littered the glass, along with a camping lantern, which she flipped on.
Before she could open up any of her guides, her eyes fell upon the sleeping bag she had been sleeping in moments ago.
The entire bottom half was soaked in a clear fluid.
"NO!"
Another pain raced through her body, focusing on her swollen stomach, and shooting out to her fingers and toes. She doubled over, supporting her pregnant belly.
Once again, it subsided, but she began to cry. She felt so cold, so scared.
She began to wander the store, examining the shelves as if there was some magical device that could help her. Even as she walked, a wave of suffering would hit her, and her legs would turn into cooked spaghetti noodles.
Why didn't she listen to Spike? He had been so concerned, asking if he could take her to the hospital. But she had said no.
"I'm fine!" she had said. "God, you're such a baby!"
More tears flooded down her face. Before she had left for the Harris home, Spike offered her a place to stay the night. He had known something was wrong.
One more wave hit her, but this time it was so intense, she fell to the cold floor in Aisle 6, cleaning supplies. At least it wasn't Aisle 5.
Cries filled the ghostly store, but there was no one to help her.
It passed again, but there was something new ringing through the night, drowning out the pouring rain. A tapping.
From her position on the floor, she could see the main entrance of Wal- Mart. Someone was outside, tapping on the window. But, it was so dark outside, that she couldn't see whom it was.
"Please!" she cried out, but her voice was hoarse from all the screaming.
The figure tapped once more, then turned and left.
"Come back. Please, come back!"
Alone once again, she felt herself give up.
Suddenly, a deafening crash broke the silence. Buffy looked back to the entrance, and saw a figure step through the now broken pane of glass, a large cement brick lying among the glass.
The figure had been using their long, black coat to as a shield from the rain. Once inside the dry store, the figure removed the coat from their head, revealing a head of mussed up platinum white curls.
Spike was at her side in an instant, cradling her head in his lap as he let her hand grasp his.
"Glad to see me?" he asked, but his cheery attitude fell as Buffy went into another contraction.
Curling her toes inward, and grinding her teeth, she began to squeeze his hand. Halfway through, she wondered if she might break his fingers, but a look at his face showed little discomfort. Instead, he was using his free hand to caress her cheek, all of his focus on her.
Once he felt her grip relax, he let go of her hand, and brought it to her face, gently forcing her to look at him.
"How far apart are they?"
She couldn't respond. The tears were coming again, only this time they were of relief.
"Look at me, luv," he requested, kind but firm. "I need to see how far along you are. Is that alright?"
When she nodded, he took off his leather duster, rolled it into a ball, and made it into a pillow for her head. Silently, he was at her legs, carefully putting her feet on the ground and spreading her knees apart.
Asking once more time for permission, he pulled off her placenta-soaked panties and throwing them off to the side.
He sat there for a moment, intently studying and frowning.
"Spike . . . wha'?" She was drenched in sweat, both from terror and the pain.
"'M not a doctor, luv," he explained honestly, a tiny edge of fear showing in his eyes, "Donno about the centimeters and stuff like that. But I can see the head."
"Oh, god."
He was wearing a black T-shirt, which he quickly removed, revealing a white undershirt. He then took off one of his shoes, and began unlacing it while he talked.
"In a sec, you're gonna have to push. Can you do that for me?"
The fear held back her voice, so she could only nod.
Placing the shirt and shoelace to his right, he went back to her opening. But, while he kneeled in front of her, he reached out his hand, and she took it.
"Ok . . . push!"
Gathering her strength, she raised her head and tightened her abdomen, pushing down as hard as she could.
"Stop!" he yelled after a while, and Buffy let go, her head falling backwards.
"Still with me?"
"Mmmhmm," she whimpered.
"Gonna have to do it again. Ready? NOW!"
Her toes dug into the linoleum, her fingernails drawing blood from his palm, but he was concentrated on delivering the baby, nothing else.
"Stop!"
She couldn't do it again. She couldn't find the conviction, the will, to push once more.
Spike obviously saw the defeat on her face, because he jumped to her side, cradling her sweaty face in his hands.
"Luv, it's almost over. You just need to push once more!"
"I can't."
"Buffy."
He was so calm, so gentle with her. Not one man she had known had ever handled her this way.
"I know you can do this. Be my brave girl."
When she sat up, pushing the palms of her hands into the ground, he kissed her lightly on the cheek before returning to the baby.
"Just once more, luv."
"Ok."
"Push."
It was the most pain she'd ever felt. Worse than breaking her leg in fifth grade, worse than the cramps the morning after she lost her virginity, worse than Big Bill's knife ripping the muscles of her arm apart. This pain was above it all.
Spike didn't tell her to stop. He was hovering over something near her legs, his hands flying everywhere.
"Is it ok?" she meekly asked, her voice barely a whisper.
A whimper answered her, followed then by an unrestrained cry.
He picked up the crying baby, a shoelace dangling from the umbilical cord, wrapped in the warm T-shirt.
"Your little girl's perfect."
"Girl?"
"A beautiful little girl." Spike was beaming as he placed the baby on her mother's chest.
Before anyone could say anything else, Spike heard the sirens of the police cars responding to the silent alarm that was triggered when he broke the pane of glass.
"I'll be back. Have to go explain this to the cops. You'll be ok?" he asked getting ready to stand up.
She didn't answer back immediately. Her attention had been diverted from the baby to a package of laundry detergent nearby. Aurora Fresh.
"What does Aurora mean?"
"What?" he asked.
"Aurora."
Grinning, he kissed her forehead. "Means daylight."
She tried to smile, but the world soon fell black, and Buffy Summers, seventeen years old, homeless, and a mother of a little girl, passed out on the floor of the Sunnydale Wal-Mart.
EmilyTheStrange1: OMG! I love you too! Thank you for reviewing!
masaarah: I guess, since you are reading this note, you realize the benefit of Buffy's secret living arrangements being figured out. Ha ha! I'm not really clever.
spufette: I'm so tickled (that's a stupid word) that you love this story. FLUFFY SPUFFY ROCKS! And, I too adore the Xander/Spike friendship, and creepy stalker Spike. I hoped you liked this one, with my favorite version, hero Spike!
Atterb: I'm glad you think I'm doing such a good job at portraying Joss's wonderful characters. Thank you for saying so.
AcidGirl: Hurrah! I'm on a favorites list! I love it! But, really, the only reason why this story is so good is because I stole the plot from two wonderful sources. Go see the movie or read the book. It's ten times better!
Leann2: When I first saw Tabula Rasa, I nearly wet my pants at how funny Giles and Anya were together. I'm happy you think so too.
FirstAidKid: Hurrah for you for skipping school! I wish I had the guts to do that, but I'm really paranoid about missing something important, and I pay way too much for me to ski[ anything. Relish the skippage while you can. Anyway, thank you for flattering me in an off-handed kind of way.
Imzadi: Fuck Dawn! Fuck her up her stupid ass! I took pregnant Cordelia from first season Cordelia, imagining what that selfish and bitchy girl would have been like if she had gotten knocked up. I, too, love Anya, and my sister and I cried when she was killed. Well, just to tell you, Most Rare Vision will be updated soon, and the Lindsey chapter will be appearing in two postings. Love you!
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.
Author's Notes: Hello, my precious! More another chapter to start the weekend. I have a pretty good feeling that you'll like this one. Let's just say, without ruining it, that things are about to change for the better. Sorry it's so long, but it's not as bad as the chapter I archived just a few days ago. Anyway, here it is, I hope you love it. Kisses!
PS: Angel (no, he's just a figment of Buffy's imagination in this chapter) and Buffy say two lines that I stole from Linkin Park's "Pushing Me Away". Go, listen to it. It's a very good, sad song. That's all I have to say for now. ____________________________________________________________________________
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Chapter Nine- A Special Day
If the United States government decided to take a break everyday something even remotely special happened, the entire year would be taken off. Nothing would happen, because certain days are important to certain people, whether it be birthdays, anniversaries, religious holidays, paydays, and so on.
When Buffy began the day that July morning, knowing it had been one month since she made a home in the Wal-Mart, she wasn't sure if it was a day to celebrate.
On the negative side, she had to remind herself that she had no actual home. She couldn't get mail, have friends over, or even register to vote when she turned eighteen in November, if she actually wanted to vote. And she knew that, any day, she would go into labor. The hot, humid days were taking a toll on her body, and every single joint was swollen and painful. Just to walk downtown was tiring.
But, as she pushed open the door to the library that morning, the light buzz of the air conditioning providing little comfort, she knew that getting stuck in Sunnydale might be the best thing that ever happened to her.
"Hello?" she called out, but it echoed through the empty building.
She then heard laughter coming from behind the closed door of the reading room.
"Is anyone in here?" asked the young woman, opening the large wooden door a crack.
"Nope! Don't come in! No one's here!"
Buffy pushed the door open more, revealing a grinning Spike and a smiling Tara.
"Asshole."
Both he and Tara stood up. "Nice to see you too, luv." Then, he pulled the pregnant girl into a hug.
"Hi Buffy," Tara whispered, also giving her friend a hug.
During the past few weeks, Buffy had been introduced, and in the case of Tara, re-introduced to the people of Sunnydale. It seemed that she always had somewhere to be, someone to hang out with, someone keeping her company. Three days this week, she, Cordelia, and Tara had tea at the Magic Box during Tara's lunch hour.
"Why aren't you at work, Miss McClay? There might be some desperate person out there who needs potting soil or . . . slug poison," teased Buffy.
Since she felt so comfortable around her new friend, she flipped off the blonde.
"Giles asked me to look at his hydrangeas before I got to work, but I had to spend a little time with my honey." She gave a blushing Spike a kiss on his cheek.
"You know," Buffy began, sitting in one of the over-stuffed chairs, "I really think you and Spike should get together. You might be the one person who keeps his god-damn mouth shut."
"Ouch! That really hurts." Clutching his chest, Spike fell into another chair, his face distorted in fake pain.
Tara laughed. "I don't think Spike and I would work out."
"Oh, can't you just give it a chance?"
Spike shook his head. "Nope. Tara belongs to that large, prestigious club of women who will never go out with me."
"Actually," Tara corrected, "I belong to that smaller club of women who will never go out with men."
He waved his hand in dismissal. "Tomato, tah-matah. One less girl who will sleep with me."
Both females laughed as Spike began to pout, his lower lip slightly sticking out.
"And on that lovely note, I have to get to work." Tara picked up her large, hippie style bag, gave both her friends a wave, then walked out of the room.
"So, what are your plans for today," asked Buffy, stretching her legs out on a nearby ottoman.
"Organize, shelve, and other boring library related shit. You?"
"A fun-filled day of helping you and Giles out, then dinner at Cordelia and Xander's."
Nodding, he began to absently pick at the arm of the chair. "Shouldn't you be going to a doctor soon?"
Her eyes widened. "Why?"
"Well, Cordy's goin' every other day. You're farther along, so shouldn't you be going?"
"Um . . ."
"I have a friend, Willow. She's a resident at the hospital, but she's got some connections with the baby doctors. I could help you set up an appointment."
"I . . . well, I . . ."
She was caught in another lie. Most of the time, she would fabricate some story, making up some answer that would satisfy the person. On rare occasions . . .
"Ah, Buffy, you're here."
She'd get interrupted.
Giles walked in the room, flipping through a beaten up periodical while munching on an apple.
Glad for the distraction, Buffy hastily stood up, greeting the older man and idly chatting.
If she had any idea how much Spike knew, she probably would have come clean. But as it was, she thought her secret was exactly that: a secret.
Frowning, he observed the young girl talking to his uncle. She didn't know that he would follow her home every night, making sure she got in safely, or that he made sure she had somewhere to spend the afternoon and places to eat. Not that anyone was complaining. It seemed that his circle of friends had taken to the lively girl, in some ways adopting her. He never told them why, just that she had no one else to be with, and he was worried.
Giles, Xander, and Clem were blissfully clueless. They liked Buffy, so having her around was no problem. But Joyce, Cordelia, Anya, and Tara had one theory as to why Spike was so protective when it dealt with Buffy. And in a way, they were right, but that's a completely different story, for a completely different time.
"William, we should probably get started," Giles said, dragging Spike out from his deep thoughts.
"Right." He stood, following his uncle and Buffy out to the bookshelves.
"Buffy, I need you to go through the records, and check in the returned books. You remember how to do that?"
"Uh huh."
"And William, you need to take care of something upstairs before you start your daily work."
"Got it."
Buffy saw some sort of unspoken agreement between pass between the two men, but did not ask. She wasn't supposed to know.
"Alright, let's get started."
All three turned in opposite directions, going towards their particular areas.
Spike stopped and wheeled around, about to ask Giles a question, when he saw Buffy double over, clutching her stomach.
Giles saw it too, because he dropped the book he was holding.
"Buffy!"
Immediately, they were at her side, Giles running a hand along her back while Spike kneeled in front of her.
Her face was twisted, and she was biting down on her lower lip, occasionally moaning in pain.
As soon as it started, it passed, and then she righted herself.
"I'll be fine," she gasped, rubbing her temples.
The nephew and uncle exchanged expressions.
"Luv, that didn't look exactly right," Spike whispered, standing up.
Giles agreed. "Something like that shouldn't happen."
Trying to reassure the two, an article she had read long ago popped into her mind.
"Actually, I think it's just indigestion."
Frowning, Spike cocked his head to the side. "Indigestion?"
"Mmmhmm."
Another look passed between the relatives, and seemed to set them at ease.
"If something else like that happens, you make sure to tell us," Giles requested, every bit the lecturing parent.
"No problem."
Giles laughed, pulling her into a quick hug.
"Enough drama for today, let's get back on task."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
# # # # #
The chain pulling them up to the peak made a clacking noise, a rhythm that could be put to music. Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack. Up went Colossus, taking another trip of terror.
Buffy took this moment of peace to gaze at her companions. Angel sat to her left, staring down at the park below and all of the people, who looked like ants.
She smiled at him. He was always observing. Always a thought whirling around his brain.
There was a cry to her right. Not a scream, but a cry of fear, high and small.
Turning her head, she finally saw the source of the cry. It was a little baby, safely strapped in a car seat. The baby was wrapped in a blanket, which was colorless, gray.
"Why are you so far away?" asked Angel. Buffy turned her attention back to him. He was, indeed, far away, his seat miles away.
"Because that's where you want me to be," she whispered, her voice unable to force out any loud sound.
"I never said that."
"It was implied."
"Implications can sometimes prove false."
Laughing, Buffy let her head tilt up, the bright sun warming her.
"You're not much of a lawyer."
"Good thing I'm a dentist," he responded.
She turned back to him, but he was gone.
"The sacrifice of hiding in a lie." Buffy was calling out to air, and the cart was at the top, ready to fall.
"Actually," his voice was still there, although it was hollow, blowing in the wind, a ghostly remainder. "The sacrifice is never knowing . . ."
"Never knowing what?"
But, she shut her mouth when a new screaming intruded, this one louder, feminine.
"What is that, Angel?"
His voice was all but gone, although his final word echoed in her ears.
"You."
# # # # #
As Buffy drifted into consciousness, the screaming went along with her. It wasn't until she felt an incredible stabbing pain in her stomach that she realized who the screaming came from.
"Oh, god!"
Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes, praying to every deity that she had ever heard of that the pain was a dream.
Although it felt like a million years, the pain finally passed, and she opened her eyes.
Wal-Mart was dark, only the light shining from street lamps outside illuminating the empty building. She could hear heavy rainfall pounding against the glass windows.
She sat up, pulling the sleeping bag open, and used her suddenly weak muscles to stand.
"What's going on," she murmured to herself as she crept to the patio table. A few pregnancy magazines and books littered the glass, along with a camping lantern, which she flipped on.
Before she could open up any of her guides, her eyes fell upon the sleeping bag she had been sleeping in moments ago.
The entire bottom half was soaked in a clear fluid.
"NO!"
Another pain raced through her body, focusing on her swollen stomach, and shooting out to her fingers and toes. She doubled over, supporting her pregnant belly.
Once again, it subsided, but she began to cry. She felt so cold, so scared.
She began to wander the store, examining the shelves as if there was some magical device that could help her. Even as she walked, a wave of suffering would hit her, and her legs would turn into cooked spaghetti noodles.
Why didn't she listen to Spike? He had been so concerned, asking if he could take her to the hospital. But she had said no.
"I'm fine!" she had said. "God, you're such a baby!"
More tears flooded down her face. Before she had left for the Harris home, Spike offered her a place to stay the night. He had known something was wrong.
One more wave hit her, but this time it was so intense, she fell to the cold floor in Aisle 6, cleaning supplies. At least it wasn't Aisle 5.
Cries filled the ghostly store, but there was no one to help her.
It passed again, but there was something new ringing through the night, drowning out the pouring rain. A tapping.
From her position on the floor, she could see the main entrance of Wal- Mart. Someone was outside, tapping on the window. But, it was so dark outside, that she couldn't see whom it was.
"Please!" she cried out, but her voice was hoarse from all the screaming.
The figure tapped once more, then turned and left.
"Come back. Please, come back!"
Alone once again, she felt herself give up.
Suddenly, a deafening crash broke the silence. Buffy looked back to the entrance, and saw a figure step through the now broken pane of glass, a large cement brick lying among the glass.
The figure had been using their long, black coat to as a shield from the rain. Once inside the dry store, the figure removed the coat from their head, revealing a head of mussed up platinum white curls.
Spike was at her side in an instant, cradling her head in his lap as he let her hand grasp his.
"Glad to see me?" he asked, but his cheery attitude fell as Buffy went into another contraction.
Curling her toes inward, and grinding her teeth, she began to squeeze his hand. Halfway through, she wondered if she might break his fingers, but a look at his face showed little discomfort. Instead, he was using his free hand to caress her cheek, all of his focus on her.
Once he felt her grip relax, he let go of her hand, and brought it to her face, gently forcing her to look at him.
"How far apart are they?"
She couldn't respond. The tears were coming again, only this time they were of relief.
"Look at me, luv," he requested, kind but firm. "I need to see how far along you are. Is that alright?"
When she nodded, he took off his leather duster, rolled it into a ball, and made it into a pillow for her head. Silently, he was at her legs, carefully putting her feet on the ground and spreading her knees apart.
Asking once more time for permission, he pulled off her placenta-soaked panties and throwing them off to the side.
He sat there for a moment, intently studying and frowning.
"Spike . . . wha'?" She was drenched in sweat, both from terror and the pain.
"'M not a doctor, luv," he explained honestly, a tiny edge of fear showing in his eyes, "Donno about the centimeters and stuff like that. But I can see the head."
"Oh, god."
He was wearing a black T-shirt, which he quickly removed, revealing a white undershirt. He then took off one of his shoes, and began unlacing it while he talked.
"In a sec, you're gonna have to push. Can you do that for me?"
The fear held back her voice, so she could only nod.
Placing the shirt and shoelace to his right, he went back to her opening. But, while he kneeled in front of her, he reached out his hand, and she took it.
"Ok . . . push!"
Gathering her strength, she raised her head and tightened her abdomen, pushing down as hard as she could.
"Stop!" he yelled after a while, and Buffy let go, her head falling backwards.
"Still with me?"
"Mmmhmm," she whimpered.
"Gonna have to do it again. Ready? NOW!"
Her toes dug into the linoleum, her fingernails drawing blood from his palm, but he was concentrated on delivering the baby, nothing else.
"Stop!"
She couldn't do it again. She couldn't find the conviction, the will, to push once more.
Spike obviously saw the defeat on her face, because he jumped to her side, cradling her sweaty face in his hands.
"Luv, it's almost over. You just need to push once more!"
"I can't."
"Buffy."
He was so calm, so gentle with her. Not one man she had known had ever handled her this way.
"I know you can do this. Be my brave girl."
When she sat up, pushing the palms of her hands into the ground, he kissed her lightly on the cheek before returning to the baby.
"Just once more, luv."
"Ok."
"Push."
It was the most pain she'd ever felt. Worse than breaking her leg in fifth grade, worse than the cramps the morning after she lost her virginity, worse than Big Bill's knife ripping the muscles of her arm apart. This pain was above it all.
Spike didn't tell her to stop. He was hovering over something near her legs, his hands flying everywhere.
"Is it ok?" she meekly asked, her voice barely a whisper.
A whimper answered her, followed then by an unrestrained cry.
He picked up the crying baby, a shoelace dangling from the umbilical cord, wrapped in the warm T-shirt.
"Your little girl's perfect."
"Girl?"
"A beautiful little girl." Spike was beaming as he placed the baby on her mother's chest.
Before anyone could say anything else, Spike heard the sirens of the police cars responding to the silent alarm that was triggered when he broke the pane of glass.
"I'll be back. Have to go explain this to the cops. You'll be ok?" he asked getting ready to stand up.
She didn't answer back immediately. Her attention had been diverted from the baby to a package of laundry detergent nearby. Aurora Fresh.
"What does Aurora mean?"
"What?" he asked.
"Aurora."
Grinning, he kissed her forehead. "Means daylight."
She tried to smile, but the world soon fell black, and Buffy Summers, seventeen years old, homeless, and a mother of a little girl, passed out on the floor of the Sunnydale Wal-Mart.
EmilyTheStrange1: OMG! I love you too! Thank you for reviewing!
masaarah: I guess, since you are reading this note, you realize the benefit of Buffy's secret living arrangements being figured out. Ha ha! I'm not really clever.
spufette: I'm so tickled (that's a stupid word) that you love this story. FLUFFY SPUFFY ROCKS! And, I too adore the Xander/Spike friendship, and creepy stalker Spike. I hoped you liked this one, with my favorite version, hero Spike!
Atterb: I'm glad you think I'm doing such a good job at portraying Joss's wonderful characters. Thank you for saying so.
AcidGirl: Hurrah! I'm on a favorites list! I love it! But, really, the only reason why this story is so good is because I stole the plot from two wonderful sources. Go see the movie or read the book. It's ten times better!
Leann2: When I first saw Tabula Rasa, I nearly wet my pants at how funny Giles and Anya were together. I'm happy you think so too.
FirstAidKid: Hurrah for you for skipping school! I wish I had the guts to do that, but I'm really paranoid about missing something important, and I pay way too much for me to ski[ anything. Relish the skippage while you can. Anyway, thank you for flattering me in an off-handed kind of way.
Imzadi: Fuck Dawn! Fuck her up her stupid ass! I took pregnant Cordelia from first season Cordelia, imagining what that selfish and bitchy girl would have been like if she had gotten knocked up. I, too, love Anya, and my sister and I cried when she was killed. Well, just to tell you, Most Rare Vision will be updated soon, and the Lindsey chapter will be appearing in two postings. Love you!
