Author's Notes: I deeply apologize for not mentioning CJ in this chapter; I forgot about him, haha. I promise he'll be in the next chapter, though.

I know that lately this story has been lacking Seth/Willow action, but rest assured, it is coming soon. It's just that Willow has been focusing on other things.

Also, I'm sorry if some people are disappointed with the results of this chapter. It's just how I decided the story would go.

Chapter Sixteen - Bring It On

Seth was growing to hate his house.

It had started about four days after Leah's disappearance. He stayed over at my house until roughly about eleven at night, and when I told him it was getting late and I was about to fall asleep he sighed and said, "I can't stand my house. I don't want to go back there; it's so dead." But, ever the gentleman, he left anyway.

The next day, I felt bad for making him leave, so I asked - well, commanded, really - him to stay the night at my house. He happily obliged…

And had been staying at my house for nearly a week now.

Every now and then, he dropped by to visit Sue, guilt written all over his face as he told me that she was probably lonely. However, he always came back with slamming the door, growling about responsibility. Of course, the next day, he got a devastated look on his face and whined about Sue, beginning the cycle all over again.

I enjoyed his company thoroughly. We talked for about seven million hours a day and took long walks around La Push, splashing each other in the ocean's soft waves. But each day, he became more and more tired. Even though he kept going to bed extremely early, Seth woke up exhausted, with bloodshot eyes and eye bags to boot. I couldn't make any sense of it, but when I asked him how he was doing, he said that he was fine, had never been better.

One evening, Seth and I sat on the living room couch and watched old Disney movies. It was nearly one A.M., and both of us were tired from the beach that day, though we tried not to act like it. Unfortunately, this had failed and I was leaning against Seth with my eyes halfway closed, him dozing away.

There was a loud crashing sound from upstairs that scared the crap out of me; I jumped and collided heads with Seth, who blinked around, obviously confused. For a second, both of us froze and listened, but there was nothing to listen for - it was dead silent, the moments stretching on and on.

And then I heard Heather start to cry.

I sighed and stood up, wondering what the problem was now. "I'm sorry," I said to Seth, climbing up the stairs. "I'll be right back."

I turned on the light in the hall to find Heather sitting on the floor, surrounded by a puddle of her own tears. Next to her, a picture had fallen off one of our end tables and the frame had smashed, leaving glass all over the floor. Stepping closer, I saw that it was a picture of some friends of hers standing in front of the library and eating birthday cake. I couldn't imagine why Heather was so upset over a frame breaking, but then again, she pretty much cried at everything lately.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," I said to her softly, bending down for a hug. She trembled and clung to me.

"I can't even - what good am I - breaking - it's just - God, I hate this," Heather sobbed. I had to admit that it scared me a little to see her like this. I couldn't think of anything to say.

"Well," I began, but that was as far as I got. "Well…" I tried again.

"And I'm a freaking liar, too. A mother freaking liar." Heather sniffled and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "That night…when…I lied. I lied. I'm no good, Willow."

I immediately knew what night she was talking about. I had a sinking, sinking feeling crawling from my head to my toes. How on Earth could we deal with this?

"Willow, I'm pregnant," Heather stated in a shaky voice, wiping away a tear.

"I know," I said.

She looked up at me. "You know? How?"

"I've suspected it for a while. Look, I'm going to clean this frame up. I want you to change into your pajamas or whatever and go rest in bed. Then I'll talk to you. Okay?" I asked.

No response.

"Heather?"

"Yeah. Okay." She dragged herself off of the floor, with obvious difficulty, and slunk into her room.

Meanwhile, I picked the glass up, doing it very carefully to not cut myself, and dumped it in a nearby garbage can. I then practically ran down the steps, dying to tell Seth the news, only to find him sound asleep, mouth open and head pressed against a pillow. Oh well, it could wait for morning. I started to put a blanket over him, but then, remembering that his body temperature was a hundred and nine degrees or whatever and he didn't need it, dropped it over his feet. I turned off the TV and the light and quietly crept upstairs.

Heather was sitting on her bed when I came into her room. She'd changed into sweatpants and one of my shirts I'd let her borrow a few days previously, but otherwise looked pretty bad. Her hair was sticking to her red face and tears rolled down her cheeks. Heather was also shaking so violently it looked as though she were having a seizure, and her breaths were short, raw gasps.

I sat down next to her and let her cry it out. What seemed like hours later, she'd smoothed down to calm hiccups and I wiped her face with the damp towel I'd picked up on the way to her room. She closed her eyes and took in a final shaking breath, then let it out and was still.

"Heather," I said, taking out my ponytail holder and using it to tie her hair back from her face, "just know that I'm supporting whatever you do all the way here."

Heather said in a surprisingly calm voice, "Thank you."

"So…how far along are you?" I asked.

"About four months." Heather was sounding sharp now, as if I was getting into sticky territory. I couldn't imagine how or why.

"Who's the dad?"

"You know how a while ago, I was throwing up and you asked me what was wrong? And I said it was that time of the month?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that wasn't the truth."

My blood ran cold. Oh, crap. Crap, crap, crap. This was not good. "So that means--"

"The guy who raped me, yeah."

"Oh, God. I can't believe it. That idiot. That good-for nothing piece of crap. God. This is terrible. I'm gonna--!"

Heather ignored this and continued, "I'm about four and a half months along. At least, that's what my personal calculations say. I don't know for sure. I really need to go to the doctor, but--" She looked at me, and I knew we were thinking the same thing: We can't afford it.

"Listen, I'll find you a family doctor or whatever for cheap, okay? I'll keep on working really hard at my job for the money. I might even get another one, I don't know yet. But I will help you through this. Every step of the way."

Heather hugged me tight. I knew that we could do this. I just had to try hard to help pay for the doctor's bills. And hopefully I could find someone cheap, or else we might have a bit of a problem and she'd have to have appointments not too often.

We made ourselves comfortable, as I thought I was about to pass out. Heather stood up and turned the light off, then slid under the sheets next to me. We talked about the baby for what had to be ages. Heather said that she'd had several dreams that it would be a boy, but didn't care what gender it was. She wondered if she was going to have more than one baby. And she went on and on and on about how painful birth was going to be. I told her that there was plenty of time to prepare for that, but I was half-asleep, and my words came out like mush.

After a while, Heather fell asleep. I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh. So Heather was having a baby? Here we go.

As reality faded into dreams, I only had one thought:

Bring it on.