Fic: For Keeps - Chapter 2
Title: For Keeps
Rating: PG-13; probably a few chapters will be R down the road.
Summary: When unknown demons attack Spike in autumn 2019 and infect him with what seems to be a parasite, all Slayer and Watcher hands are on deck to try to get it out of him. But what if the “parasite” could be something more?
Word Count: 6,900
A/N 1: This is, as you may be able to tell from the summary, an mpreg fic. Spike gets pregnant. If the concept of male pregnancy freaks you out, this is probably not the fic for you.
A/N 2: My sincere apologies that it took me over five months to post the second chapter. This isn't even the complete second chapter, but I'm posting what I have for the het mpreg ficathon. I'm hoping to have the rest of Chapter 2 up next weekend and to post more regularly after that (thought still not frequently, as I'll also be writing other fic, noveling, and trying to graduate). Chapter 1 is here.
Chapter 2
“Mom?”
The familiar beckon drew Buffy from sleep as inexorably as though she’d been physically shaken.
“Dad?”
“They’re okay, Al. How about we let them sleep some more.”
“Isallright,” Buffy mumbled automatically. It took a few groggy blinks to focus on Aly and Xander standing at the foot of the bed. Her daughter’s face broke into a relieved smile that showed off both her dimples and the gap where she’d lost a tooth at school yesterday. The tooth fairy hadn’t come for her, Buffy thought with dismay. She’d realize the truth.
Then again, Aly probably hadn’t had a chance to put her tooth under her pillow in the first place.
Buffy smiled back and kept her voice low, even though she could already feel Spike stirring beside her “C’mere, baby, it’s okay.” She sat up slowly, trying to neither disturb Spike nor fall off the bed, and winced as little aches made themselves known up and down her body.
“Aly?” Spike’s voice came out guttural and confused-sounding, as though he were still half-asleep. Aly’s face lit up and she scrambled to his side.
“Daddy? Are you okay?”
“Hey, sweetheart. I’m doing fine.” He propped himself up faster than Buffy had and pulled her against him. Buffy stood to give them more room and took advantage of the opportunity to arch her back in a stretch.
“How’s my girl? Are you all right, poppet?”
“Yeah.” Aly’s voice came out muffled by his chest. “But you’re the one who’s hurt.”
“Not for much longer. I think I’m on the mend.”
Buffy shot him a sharp look. He met her gaze and shrugged the shoulder Aly wasn’t leaning against. “Feel all right.” He did look more bright-eyed and alert than he had a few- Buffy checked the clock on the wall- three hours ago, but all things considered, that really wasn’t saying much.
“The docs figure out what happened to you?” asked Xander.
Spike shook his head. “No. Just that I have a-” He hesitated and looked down at Aly, who was still pressed against his side but had tilted her head to watch him. “Probably just a virus of some sort. Nothing to worry about.”
Xander’s eyebrows shot up, and Buffy knew he saw right their dissimulation.
Fortunately, Aly didn’t. “Really?” she said in a small, quavering voice. “You’re better?”
“I feel better,” Spike assured her. “And I’m sure Doc Brenneman will give me a clean bill of health as soon as she sees me.” He kissed the top of her head and then looked at Xander. “How’re you? Thanks for watching her last night.”
“No problem,” said Xander seriously, which alleviated the pang of guilt that shot through Buffy. “Whatever you guys need. Always happy to hang out with my favorite first-born niece.” A coaxing tone entered his voice as he added, “I was trying to convince her to go get breakfast before we woke you. You want to go to IHOP, Al, and we’ll let your parents talk to the doctors?”
Aly’s lips turned down, but after glancing between Spike and Buffy she nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”
As she slowly detached from his side, Spike turned to Buffy. “Why don’t you go with them? You’re probably hungry.”
Her stomach did feel empty and liable to growl at any minute, but she said, “I’m fine. I can stay."
"I’m okay by myself,” said Spike. “Really. You should go with them.” When she opened her mouth to protest he added, “It wouldn’t be right to fetch the doc now anyway. She’s probably zonked out in her office. I’m fine here for now.”
Buffy hesitated, but the prospect of pancakes smothered in syrup was incredibly tempting. Besides, Aly was still scrutinizing her parents closely, and Buffy didn’t want to argue with Spike so much that Aly thought something was really wrong.
“You’re sure?”
He waved a hand toward the door. “Go on.”
“Do you want me to get you blood before we go?” Around one or two last night, when her restlessness had reached a peak, she had driven home to get blood from the fridge, in case Spike miraculously recovered and wanted any- or vomited after all and needed to replenish himself.
It was Spike’s turn to hesitate, and Buffy felt her heart sink. It wasn’t a good sign if he didn’t think he could hold down food.
“No thanks. Best wait till the doc says it’s okay. ‘M not hungry anyway.”
Buffy nodded slowly, trying not to show her worry. She looked around the room, thinking guiltily how much she would hate being left alone here. There wasn’t even a TV like in normal hospitals because the sickbay wasn’t used often enough for overnight stays for it to be worth paying for cable. If anyone did require a prolonged stay, they just brought in a laptop and DVDs.
“Do you want me to run home and get you anything? Your computer? A book?”
“No. Thanks. Maybe later if I’m still…I’ll probably try to sleep again.”
“Oh- okay.” Sleeping was good, right? Not something to worry about? She looked at his bedside table to verify that his cell phone was there; someone must have taken it out of his pocket last night. “Call if you need anything. I’ll be back really soon.” She kissed him lightly on the lips.
“I’ll be fine,” he repeated yet again, which she was also starting to think was a bad sign, and sent a wan smile in Aly’s direction. “Enjoy the pancakes, Sunshine.”
Buffy couldn’t keep from looking back as she followed Xander and Aly out of the room and gently pulled the door closed behind her. Spike’s eyes were closed, and it almost made her fling the door wide and run back to him. Was he really exhausted or was he in more pain than he was letting on
Knots twisted her stomach as she hurried after their daughter.
Xander, bless him, kept up a steady stream of conversation with Aly as they crossed the street and walked two blocks to the IHOP. He kept her busy answering questions about what they were learning in third grade, and she looked significantly less miserable as she pressed up against Buffy in the booth, while listing the different tribes they were studying during their Native American unit.
“I bet I know a tribe they don’t teach you about,” said Xander in a conspiratorial tone once the waitress had taken their orders and their menus.
“What?” said Aly. She picked up her plastic cup of chocolate milk and nestled even more closely into Buffy, who was already hugging her around the shoulders.
“Have your parents ever told you about the Chumash tribe?” said Xander.
"No.”
“They were Native Americans who lived in California, and when your mom was in college, we met a vengeful spirit…”
Buffy couldn’t keep from smiling as she listened to Xander’s very watered-down version of events from that Thanksgiving so many years before. Sometimes it seemed like only a blink of an eye had passed since the years when Sunnydale was a Hellmouth, and other times it seemed like a lifetime- then again, seventeen years was, historically, a slayer’s lifetime…
“…Your mom stabbed the bear with its own knife, and that defeated the spirits. Nobody else got hurt, and I recovered from my chicken pox. And then we all had a delicious Thanksgiving dinner.”
“I don’t think Ms. Mack would approve of this story,” said Buffy. “It doesn’t show the Native Americans in a good light.”
Xander wagged a finger at her in mock indignation. “Hey, they gave me chicken pox! I’ll tell nice stories about the other tribes. What’s the name of Pocahontas’s tribe in the movie?”
Buffy rolled her eyes but couldn’t feign more righteousness. This was a good ploy of Xander’s: Aly loved hearing about her family’s “adventures.”
“Oh! And hey, that Thanksgiving was when your dad came to us for help!”
“You mean when he couldn’t bite people because the army put a computer thingy in his head?”
“Yup. He was there with us at Grandpa’s house when the Chumash attacked. That was the day he joined the Scooby family.”
Buffy’s eyebrows shot up. Xander shot her a sly smile.
“Very broadly speaking,” he said in a lower voice.
“I hope Daddy gets better soon,” said Aly softly. Buffy and Xander both jerked to look at her, their amusement wiped away.
Aly twisted to look at Buffy. “Maybe we should call and make sure he’s okay!”
Buffy’s heart clenched painfully as she looked down into her daughter’s hopeful face. “I think he’s sleeping, sweetie. He didn’t sleep much last night, and he’s tired from the…virus.”
“Oh.” Aly’s shoulders sagged. She bent over her cup so her hair fell and hid her face from view.
“Hey, Al,” said Xander quickly. “Is Ms. Mack reading any books to you in school?”
“Um. She’s reading Holes to us…”
Buffy was grateful when the food finally arrived, not only because she was hungry but also because it distracted Aly and gave Xander a chance to rest.
She had wolfed half of her harvest grain pancakes down before realizing she was barely chewing so she could return to Spike. With a conscious effort Buffy forced herself to eat more slowly; she shouldn’t ignore her own advice to Aly. She wanted to get back to him as soon as possible, but she couldn’t disturb him if he were sleeping peacefully.
She could do other things at the sickbay, though, like call Dawn to update her on Spike’s condition and Andrew to see how the research party was going. Assuming Willow and Jessica Wegman and their assistants were still resting after the long night, she could call other Wiccans from the local coven to try to persuade them to take a look at Spike. Half of their spells seemed to focus on auras rather than on physical contact, so maybe they could even examine him while he slept…
“I’m going to the bathroom,” announced Aly, and Buffy looked down to see her daughter’s plate was empty, the last puffs of whipped cream melting into the remaining syrup. Apparently Aly had had the same instinct to scarf as she’d had.
“Make sure you wash your hands carefully,” said Buffy. “They’re probably sticky.”
Aly nodded and disappeared down the aisle toward the back of the restaurant. Buffy had barely turned back to the table when Xander said urgently, “So?”
He’d probably been waiting for the past half hour for Aly to go to the bathroom so they could talk candidly, she realized, and felt another surge of guilt and gratitude.
“It’s not a virus,” she said, speaking fast. “I mean, I guess it could be. All they know is there’s something inside him. The Wiccans called it an alien presence. Brenneman called it a parasite. That’s all we know, though.”
“He didn’t throw up?”
“No.”
“And they couldn’t make him? Do they have any idea how to get it out? Surgery?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t get that far. I don’t see how they’d remove it surgically, though, ‘cause I’ve seen the x-rays and the thing is just, like- dots.”
Xander’s brow contracted. “If it’s so insubstantial, maybe it’ll pass naturally? Like food poisoning?”
“He’ll have to throw up, then.” Stuff only happened at the other end when Spike ate human food, and he wasn’t likely to do that if he couldn’t even manage blood. “If it is like food poisoning, why would demons do that? What’s the point?”
“Maybe it would kill humans, and they didn’t realize he was a vampire.”
“But if they wanted to kill, it would have been so much faster and easier to use weapons. They had the opportunity. What’s their motive?”
Xander shrugged. “They’re evil demons. Do they need a motive?”
Yes!, Buffy wanted to cry in frustration; because a motive would give them some place else to start in their research besides “yellow” and “little horns.” She bit back the retort, partly because taking her temper out on Xander was highly unfair and partly because Aly had appeared at the table. Okay, mostly because Aly had appeared at the table.
“Are you talking about Dad?” asked Aly, and Buffy guessed she had heard ‘evil demons.’
There was no point in lying. Buffy blew out a breath. “Yes.”
Aly’s mouth twisted as she sat. She knew the adults were keeping things from her, thought Buffy with an inward sigh.
She looked back at her pancakes and ate another bite. They were lukewarm now and not nearly as appetizing. She wanted to get back to Spike.
Buffy looked at Xander questioningly. “If I go back to the sickbay, could Aly go home with you and play with Halle?”
“I want to go with you!” said Aly instantly, before Xander could open his mouth. Her lower lip already stuck out in clear anticipation of an argument.
“Sweetie-”
“I’ll be good! If Dad’s sleeping I won’t bother him. I’ll sit in his room and be really quiet. Or I’ll sit in the lobby!”
Buffy briefly imagined being told to wait at home while her mother was sick in the hospital and felt herself immediately give in.
“All right. You can come. But it’s probably going to boring, hon. Dad’s sleeping, hopefully, and we’re not going to wake him. And when he is awake, the doctors are going to be with him.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to have to make some phone calls.” You’ll have to entertain yourself, she tried to imply, without actually having to say it and sound harsh.
Aly nodded, her face serious. “I’ll be good.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather play with Halle?” wheedled Buffy, giving it one last shot. “You can play dress up or Barbies or watch cartoons-”
“I’m sure!”
Buffy pursed her lips, defeated.
“How about I take her back to your place to pick up some books she can bring back to the sickbay,” said Xander. “So she has something to read and won’t be bored.”
“Thank you,” said Buffy fervently, and Aly looked pleased.
Buffy signaled the waitress and pulled out her wallet. “I’ve got this,” she said as Xander reached for his pocket.
“Buff-”
“You think I’m going to let you pay for your breakfast after everything you’ve done?” she demanded. She had intended to sound teasing, but instead her eyes felt hot again. What would she have done without her friends? Xander watching her child, Willow caring for Spike all night, Anya and Oz looking after everyone else, no questions asked?
She wiped her eyes surreptitiously and plastered on a polite smile when the waitress returned wit the check. “Thanks…”
Minutes later they were walking back toward the Council. While Buffy continued straight, Xander and Aly turned right to go a little ways further to the residential neighborhood behind the Council, where the Scoobies lived.
Buffy hurried inside and straight to Spike’s room. Instead of barging in, she peeked through the small window in the door. At first she thought he was asleep, but then his head jerked and his eyelids fluttered. He stilled again, and Buffy realized he was only dozing, not quite conscious or unconscious. She opened the door quietly, eager to let him know he wasn’t alone anymore but also ready to leave as silently as a mouse if he didn’t stir.
When she crept closer his eyelids twitched again, and he looked at her, bleary-eyed.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Just wanted to let you know I’m back.”
He gave her a limp smile. “Good breakfast?”
“Not as good as it would have been if you were there."
“Naturally,” he murmured, his eyes closing. “You don’t put on ridiculous accents and make tragic dying sounds as she eats the Funny Face.”
Buffy smiled. “How do you feel?”
“Same. Tired.”
“Do you want me to get Dr. Brenneman and see if she can give you a sleeping pill?”
“Can’t,” said Spike. “Natural sleep only. She came a little after you left and said the Wiccans will be here soon to do more tests. Knockout drugs might affect their readings or something.”
“Oh.” Buffy bit her lip, trying to look sympathetic even though she felt pleased that the Wiccans were coming so soon. Maybe they’d be able to get better readings now that the “virus” had been in his system for so many hours.
“Where’s Aly?” he asked, before she could think of something cheery to say.
“Xander took her home to get some books, and then he’s bringing her back. She wants to wait here, even though she knows it’s going to be-” She bit back the word ‘boring.’ “-A long day.”
“She can stay in here if she wants,” said Spike, nodding his head at the chair.
“Are you sure? You should sleep-”
“I can sleep with her here,” he said, and Buffy didn’t see the point in arguing; he was the patient.
“Okay. As soon as she gets here I’m going to call Dawn and let her know how you’re doing, and then I’m going to call Andrew and see how their research is going…"
He nodded, but his eyes were already closed, and she knew he wasn’t really listening. Again resisting the urge to sigh, Buffy sat in the chair beside the bed again.
Spike was breathing more slowly when Aly gently opened the door ten minutes later. Buffy sprang up and whispered, “Dad doesn’t mind if you stay in here as long as you’re quiet. You brought stuff to do?”
Aly nodded and whispered, “Harry Potter and my iPod.”
“Just make sure your iPod is on mute, okay?”
Buffy kissed the top of her head and went into the hall to confer with Xander.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.
She shook her head. “You should get some rest while you can. I might need you later, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
“I can bring Aly over if she needs to leave?”
“Anytime. You know that.”
She hugged him, hard. “Thanks.”
“Call if anything changes with Spike,” said Xander as he walked backward toward the exit.
As soon as the door was closed behind him Buffy took a deep breath and pulled out her cell phone. She had a to-do list to get through. That was good. It would keep her mind from worrying.
Dawn answered before the first ring had even finished. “Is he okay? What’s going on?” Buffy had called her last night around eleven to tell her what had happened and had said she would call again when they knew more; Dawn had clearly been on tenterhooks as much as the rest of them.
Buffy could practically feel her sister’s agitation radiating through the phone as she recounted what they knew. Several times she had to pause so that Dawn could tell Gunn, whose impatient questions she kept hearing in the background, what Buffy was saying. When she began describing the demons, Dawn interrupted, “Hang on, hang on, let me get a pen and paper, I’m going to hunt these suckers down…”
As she spoke, Buffy was startled to find a modicum of relief washing through her. Dawn couldn’t solve any of her problems with a snap of her fingers, but just talking to her sister felt cathartic; and if anyone could find these demons using such vague descriptors, Dawnie could.
“All right,” said Dawn once Buffy had finished describing both types of demons. “I think Pelerin demons have yellow skin and horns, but if I remember correctly they’re a peaceful species. The Vartan have grayish skin that might look yellow in streetlights, and they’re definitely aggressive. I’ll check my encyclopedia…”
Yes, this was definitely relief she was feeling.
“Thanks,” whispered Buffy in the middle of another demon description. She wondered, distantly, how many more dozens of times that word would feel inadequate in the next few days.
Dawn paused. “It’s gonna be okay, Buffy. Look, I’ll get my books and I’ll drive up-”
“You don’t have to do that,” said Buffy automatically, even though the idea was appealing.
“It’s no problem. It’s the weekend, so Charlie doesn’t have to go into the office; he can take care of Alonna. Or we can all come. And we’ll stay in a hotel, don’t worry about us coming to your place-”
“Don’t be silly,” Buffy finally managed to say. “Of course you’d stay with us.” She drew in a shaky breath. “You know I always love to see you, but how about we wait a few hours and see what the doctors say. Maybe the Wiccans can isolate the parasite and this’ll all be over by the end of the day.”
“Maybe.” Dawn sounded unconvinced. “All right.”
Buffy shuffled her feet for a moment, searching for something else to say. She didn’t want to say good-bye to her sister, but now that she’d passed on the relevant information, she had other calls to make. Reluctantly, she finally said, “I should probably call Andrew and see if the research party has started.”
"Right.” Buffy could picture Dawn going into Watcher mode, her brow furrowing in preparation for analysis. “I’ll hit the books. Call again if anything happens.”
“I will.”
“Tell Spike he’d better recover pronto. He’s not allowed to scare me like this. Give Aly a kiss for me.”
“I will,” Buffy repeated.
“Don’t freak out,” said Dawn seriously. “We’re gonna solve this.”
“I know. Bye.”
Buffy hit the end button on her iPhone and allowed herself to sag against the wall for a minute. She willed the relief she had felt minutes before to stay, but she could already feel it evaporating as though it had never been. Her head was starting to pulse. She couldn’t manage quite so well on such little sleep as she used to, and all this stress certainly wasn’t helping matters.
She scrolled through her contacts to find Andrew and put her phone back to her ear.
"Buffy! I really hoped you’d call soon. I kept wanting to call you, but then I figured you might be busy with the doctors or Spike, and I didn’t want to disturb you-”
“Andrew,” she said, firmly.
“Right. So, glad you called. Natasha, Shauna, and Jayma told us everything they remember about the demons last night, and they’re searching the photobase right now to see if they recognize anything. Bradley, Jimena, Farah, and Max are also here looking through books, and a few others have promised to come by after lunch-”
“So they haven’t found it yet,” interrupted Buffy, unable to help herself.
“Um…no. But our photobase was a long shot anyway. I mean, it’s usually only friendly demons who allow us to document them, and from the sound of it, I don’t think the ones last night were friendly…
“Hardly,” muttered Buffy. She sighed and rubbed her temple. “Okay. People are researching. That’s good. We really appreciate it.”
“No problemo. How’s the valiant hero?”
“Sleeping,” said Buffy. “Hopefully.”
“Did he throw up?”
Buffy repeated everything she knew- which seemed like less and less every time she had to say it.
“There was a second demon?” demanded Andrew, in the middle of her story. Buffy didn’t need his rising pitch to tell the news agitated him; when it came to stories he was the consummate listener and hardly ever interrupted.
Buffy’s heart plummeted; she’d forgotten to prepare herself for this particular setback. “The girls didn’t mention it?”
“No! What do you mean there was a second demon?”
Buffy felt her metaphorical hackles rise as she described the “lithe” demon; when they found Spike’s attacker, she was going to punch its husband-kissing face in before she killed it.
“That’s awful,” said Andrew when she was finished, sounding so indignant and furious that Buffy felt a rare flash of solidarity. “Poor Spike. He’s so brave, sacrificing himself for Jayma the way he did, and who knows what those awful demons did to him. At least this gives us something more to go on: we can cross-reference our research now, see which demons that fit those descriptions are known allies…”
She hadn’t thought of the possibility of cross-referencing making the search go faster; the fact that it was a silver lining, slim as it was, as opposed to the extra burden she’d thought the demon would be, sent an inordinate wave of relief through her.
Andrew gave a huge sniff. “Tell Spike that he is priority numero uno for however long this takes. All upcoming apocalypses can just hold their horses! Actually, I can tell him myself because I should come over there and talk to him-”
“What? No, Andrew, I think I’ve got the, uh, moral support covered-”
“We want to get his description of the demons to see if there’s anything we’re missing that could help our search.”
Oh. Well. That made sense.
“No offense,” said Andrew. “I’m sure you told me everything spectacularly well-”
“No, you’re right,” said Buffy. “But just you. I don’t want people crowding him.”
“Abso-positively. But just so you know, the girls really want to visit at some point. They want see how he is, and Jayma wants to say thank you. We might make some get well cards during lunch-”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate them,” said Buffy. “I’ll call you when the Wiccans are finished with him and you can come over to talk to him, all right?”
"Aye aye, mon capitan! I’ll have my phone at the ready.”
Feeling the usual mixture of amusement and exasperation that accompanied her conversations with Andrew, as well as a lingering, surprising sense of relief that they were in good hands, Buffy hung up. She checked the window in Spike’s door to verify that he was indeed still sleeping. As she turned back to the lobby, pondering whom else she should call, Willow came through the front door, a tray of Starbucks coffees in her hand.
“Hey!” Buffy hurried forward, even more relief igniting in her.
“Hey.” Willow flashed her a quick smile in return before cutting to the chase. “How is he?”
“Sleeping. Ish. He says that nothing really hurts, but I don’t know how much of that is bravado. Are you going to do more tests?”
“That’s the plan. Jessica and Amaryllis are on their way.” Willow extended the coffee tray. “Latte on the front left is yours.”
“Oh god, thank you.” Buffy hadn’t even realized what she’d been missing until the first sip hit her throat.
“No problem.” Willow crossed to the lobby’s couch and set the tray on the table in front of it. She took her own drink and paused midway to Spike’s door. “Mind if I check on him?”
“Of course not.”
Buffy felt a little guilty as Spike’s eyes flickered open again, but she prioritized getting the parasite out of him over letting him sleep.
“How are you feeling?” asked Willow.
Spike shrugged one shoulder. “Same as last night.”
“Jessica and Amaryllis are going to be here soon, and then we’ll see if we can get this thing out of you, okay?”
Spike nodded without speaking, clearly unimpressed.
Willow bit her lip. “Danny and Tara send their love. Oz, too, of course.”
Spike smiled a bit finally. “Thanks.”
When he didn’t say anything else, Willow turned to Aly, who had been watching the proceedings closely, her book and iPod forgotten. “Danny would love to play with you if you want to go home at any point.”
“’Kay,” said Aly. “Thanks.” She sounded similarly unmoved in a way that made clear she would not be tempted by offers of play dates. Buffy gently stroked her hair.
Someone rapped smartly on the door. The knob turned before anyone could reply, and Jessica entered, followed by a heavy-set, cheerful Mexican-American woman whose dimples made her look much younger than her forty-something years.
“Spike!” Amaryllis went straight to the bed and grabbed Spike’s hand. “Pobrecito! I didn’t want to believe it when they told me you were laid up. What’s the world coming to when a vampire needs such fussing over?”
"Nothing good, I expect,” said Spike, and Buffy was pleased to see that he appeared to be hiding a grin; it was difficult to be morose around Amaryllis.
“Well, whatever it is, we’re going to fix it,” said Amaryllis soothingly. “We’re going to read your aura again, see if we can pick up any more clues. Is that okay?”
“Peachy,” said Spike, not sarcastically.
As Jessica began placing incense sticks around the room and Willow appropriated more chairs from the lobby, Buffy asked tentatively, not sure she wanted to hear the answer, “Do we need to leave?”
Amaryllis considered her for a moment and then shook her head. “No. Perhaps later, but right now things should stay calm.”
‘Calm’? Buffy wanted to repeat. ‘Right now?’
She nudged Aly to move her chair back against the wall, and the three Wiccans positioned themselves around Spike, Willow and Jessica sitting at his sides and holding his hands while Amaryllis stood over him and gently touched his stomach. With the additional people and the sweet, cloying scent from the incense, the small room was starting to feel claustrophobic. Surrounded by them all, Spike looked shrunken and frail, even though he still wore his own clothes instead of a hospital gown. Buffy gripped Aly’s shoulder, wishing it could be Spike’s instead; she wanted to touch him, offer him comfort, but she didn’t think her aura, or whatever it was exactly the Wiccans were reading, should be mingled with his during their spell.
Buffy hadn’t been thinking far enough ahead to wonder what to expect, but now that the moment was at hand, she was a little nonplussed by the proceedings. There was no chanting or even brief incantations, no props other than the incense to help their concentration. The women were simply silent, eyes closed. Buffy supposed this made sense, as the few times Willow had read the Scoobies’ auras, she hadn’t used bells or whistles either. Still, bells and whistles could be heartening- made it seem like change was actually being effected.
Spike looked just as skeptical as she felt. Buffy held his gaze and smiled as reassuringly as she knew how.
After several minutes Amaryllis opened her eyes. “The presence is definitely still in Spike,” she said. Buffy wasn’t sure if her calm and collected tone meant this wasn’t worrisome or just that Amaryllis was really good at being calm and collected; given that she dealt with teeny-bopper eighth graders ever day, Buffy suspected the latter.
“Can you get it out?” asked Buffy, at the same time as Spike said, “Are you sure? Nothing hurts.”
“Positive,” said Amaryllis. “There’s a foreign presence on your aura. Like a tumor.”
“Wonderful,” muttered Spike.
“Like a tumor?” Buffy cried.
“Tumors can be benign,” said Willow quickly.
“Yes, we can try to get it out,” said Amaryllis.
“Even though you couldn’t last night,” said Spike suspiciously.
“We didn’t have Amaryllis last night,” said Jessica. “She’s the most experienced in dealing with infections.”
“And that’s how would treat this,” said Amaryllis firmly. “We’d to try the same techniques we would on a bacterial infection.”
This didn’t elucidate much for Buffy, who had never seen the Wiccans perform that kind of healing before. Unless the illness was life threatening, the coven rarely interfered in medical matters; they adhered to the principle that nature had to run its course- no matter how annoying the common cold. Buffy knew one of their exceptions was when antibiotics didn’t work, but she had no idea how the healing was accomplished.
“You want us to try to draw it out of you?” Amaryllis asked Spike, a note of warning in her voice. “It might hurt.”
“I’ll live,” he said drily. “Get it out. Please.”
“All right. Buffy, get that bucket ready,” Amaryllis instructed. “He’ll probably need it.”
Buffy picked up a red vomit bucket that had been on the bedside table since the night before, and Willow moved back so she could stand closer to Spike. She wondered briefly if she should send Aly outside, but Amaryllis was already leaning over Spike, her hands splayed on his abdomen. She murmured continuously under her breath, but Buffy couldn’t distinguish the words. She locked eye with Spike, trying to smile. He didn’t manage the same. Sweat was beading on his upper lip. A moment later he jerked upward with a stifled grunt. Buffy reached automatically for his shoulder.
Amaryllis’s chanting grew louder. Buffy was sure her brow hadn’t been creased moments ago.
Spike gagged audibly, jerking forward again. Buffy tried to position the bucket beneath him.
Please throw up, please, please, please…
But after another agonizing few minutes that felt twice as long as they actually were, Amaryllis stopped chanting. She wiped her forehead and puffed out an exasperated, foreboding breath. With a wheezing gasp, Spike sank back onto the pillows.
“Did it work?” Buffy couldn’t keep from asking.
“No,” said Jessica. Her eyes were closed, and she was holding Spike’s hand again. “It’s still there.”
“Why isn’t it working?” Buffy demanded, trying and failing not to sound panicked.
“I don’t know,” said Amaryllis shortly. “The parasite resisted me. It seems more complicated than I previously thought. More- lifelike. When we purge an infection, we’re drawing the bacteria from the body. It can be time consuming, but it’s normally not difficult, since the body is already fighting the infection and wants to get rid of it. I tried to do the same now, but it was like the presence had…merged with his body. It’s attached, like a physical growth, and that’s why trying to purge it was hurting him so badly.”
“Felt like my insides were being ripped out,” croaked Spike.
Buffy couldn’t keep from making a small noise of distress.
“I’m sorry,” said Amaryllis, looking genuinely so. “I didn’t realize it would react like that.” She paused, her face turning grim. “I can try again, but I’m afraid the same thing will happen. I don’t know how much force I’d have to exert to tear it out for good and what damage it could do to you. It wouldn’t kill you, obviously,” she said frankly. “But it could hurt like a son of a bitch. Er.” She eyed Aly. “Son of a gun.”
Spike looked at Buffy. “What do you think?” he asked in a low voice.
“I think…” Buffy hesitated, her desire for it all to be over warring with her horror at what pain it might cause Spike. She took a deep breath. “I’ll support whatever you want. It’s your body. You said you didn’t hurt before, so maybe it really is benign and it’ll pass on its own; but if you want to try again, we’ll do it.” She tried to look neutral and comforting, but it was difficult not to urge him to leave the thing be for now.
To her relief he said, “Think I’ll wait then. Don’t fancy getting my insides torn up when we don’t even know it’s malignant. Sound okay, doc?"
Amaryllis nodded. “It’s up to you. We can always try again if you change your mind.”
“Thanks.”
She nodded without speaking, but there was a shadow of concern in her gaze that Buffy didn’t like. It was discomforting to see such a powerful Wiccan perturbed.
“Maybe we should leave?” said Willow quietly. “Let Spike get some rest.”
Buffy looked away from Amaryllis and saw that Spike’s eyes were closed and he was breathing shallowly; he looked in worse shape than he had been in before the Wiccans came.
Amaryllis nodded and turned to start blowing out candles.
“Thank you for coming,” said Buffy, hoping they didn’t sound ungrateful.
“Of course,” said Amaryllis. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t fix things. We can try again anytime, though, and meanwhile I’ll look through my books to see if I can construct a different spell.”
A few minutes later the Wiccans had departed, leaving the Summers family alone in the room. Buffy sank into Willow’s vacated chair and scooted close to the bed. She felt Spike’s clammy forehead and gently smoothed back his hair. He looked as haggard as he had last night and disturbingly corpse-like.
“You all right?” she asked softly.
“My stomach hurts,” he said irritably. “It’s all hot. Feels like it’s itching from the inside. And my throat hurts from gagging.” He muttered something under his breath about “damn magic” before lapsing into aggrieved silence.
Buffy remembered his spasms and felt nauseated herself. Was that what he’d gone through for hours last night while the Wiccans worked on him to no avail?
“Think I might try to sleep,” he mumbled.
“Okay. Wait-” Buffy bit her lip. “Can you wait a little while and let Andrew come over? He wants you to tell him about the demons for their research.”
Spike loosed an impatient sigh. “You can’t tell him? What about all the slayers?”
“They have. I have. But he wants to talk to you. Every bit of information helps…” It was much easier to wheedle him when she could also slip a hand in a suggestive place or get up close and romantic-like, but as the hospital bed made that a bit inconvenient, not to mention inappropriate with Aly in the room, she settled for sticking her lower lip out a little and cupping his cheek.
“Fine,” he sighed agin.
“Thank you.” She leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers. “I’ll call him, he’ll be over like a speeding bullet, and after that you can sleep as long as you want.”
Their speeding bullet arrived in short time, armed with a computer bag. When Andrew aimed straight for Spike, as though to pounce, Buffy had a second to regret not ordering him in advance to quell any dramatics, but then he rocked back on his heels, stopping short. With a solemn expression, he held out his arms.
After a moment Spike arched an eyebrow. “What’re you doing?”
“Air-hugging you,” said Andrew.
Spike opened his mouth. He closed it. Aly giggled.
With a quick, satisfied nod, Andrew dropped his arms and sat in the nearest chair. “How are you?”
“Been better,” said Spike. “What’ve you got?”
“Right. To business.” Andrew took out his laptop and opened it. Buffy moved to stand against the wall near Spike’s head so she could see the screen.
“We’ve gone through the database and compiled a list of demons that fit the description. None of the Slayers identified these as the culprits, but maybe you’ll recognize one.”
It took less than three minutes to go through the slideshow and confirm that none of the demons from their photobase matched Spike’s attackers. Andrew closed the slideshow with a disappointed but unsurprised expression and opened a Word doc. to record Spike’s “statement” on the demons. At that juncture, and despite vociferous protests, Buffy made Aly leave the room; she didn’t want Aly to hear the details of the attack, let alone about the mouth-to-mouth dead-demon-walking demon.
While Andrew typed furiously on his laptop, Spike recounted everything he had already told Buffy and then briefly detailed the Wiccans’ failed attempts to remove the parasite.
“Eurgh,” said Andrew succinctly. “I hope nothing bursts out of you before they figure out how to remove it."
Buffy squashed the urge to step forward and smack him.
"Me, too. Thanks for coming by, Andrew,” said Spike, the dismissal in his tone obvious.
“Anytime.” Andrew packed up his laptop and rose. “You hang in there! We’re going to keep hitting the books, and we won’t stop until they give up the answer!”
“Call us if you find anything,” said Buffy.
Andrew nodded. “And call if anything changes here.”
“If something rips its way out of me, you’ll be the first to know,” said Spike.
This time Buffy resisted the urge to smack her husband.
Andrew exited, and Aly slipped in the open door before anyone could tell her otherwise.
“Well, that was encouraging,” said Spike.
Aly brightened. “Really?” At her parents’ hesitation, her face fell. “Oh. Sarcasm.”
“Everything’s okay, sweetie,” said Buffy, giving Spike a look. “Do you want me to get Dr. Brenneman now for knockout drugs?”
"Please."
“I don’t know much about vampire physiology, but this is the dosage I normally give slayers,” said the doctor when she came in a few minutes later with a handful of pills for Spike to swallow.
“Works for me,” he said.
“I’m going to take Aly home while you nap,” said Buffy. “But do you want us to stay until you fall asleep?”
“’M all right. Thanks, though.”
"Call as soon as you wake up,” said Buffy, bending over him. “And we’ll come back.” She kissed him. A pang went through her at the thought of leaving him, even though she knew it would be irrational to stay when he would be asleep and she could use a break at home anyway.
When she straightened, Aly darted forward to kiss his cheek.
“Love you,” she whispered.
"Love you, too, poppet. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon.”
“C’mon, sweetheart,” whispered Buffy, when Aly seemed reluctant to go. “Let Dad sleep.” She hesitated and then picked up her daughter. She rarely did so anymore, not because she couldn’t or didn’t want to but because Aly always complained she was too old for it.
As Buffy carried her out of the room and closed the door gently behind them, Aly didn’t make a peep.