6. The night I consulted your Pop Pop and Auntie Willow
My cell phone rang at the most inopportune time possible. Of course.
Spike and I were fighting a seven-headed demon creature from another dimension that a naïve young witch had conjured in Greenwood Cemetery and then run away from in fright. (Emily, the assigned New Orleans Slayer, asked us to help her out because she was taking care of a potential apocalypse at her mini-hellmouth. A few other Slayers had flown or driven in from close by Lafayette, Beaumont, and Gulfport to help Emily.)
The creature breathed fire and was surprisingly adept at weaving in and out of the above-ground graves that made up the whole of the cemetery. After Spike and I had chopped off a couple of the heads and fought for three or four hours, we’d finally cornered it at the front of the cemetery next to a particularly distinctive tomb shaped like a grassy hill with a statue of a horned elk perching at the top. Owner of said grave had some money.
Now, my ringtone was insistent from my weapons bag, which was tucked back from the creature but still within manageable reach. The monster had one of its many slimy thick tentacles wrapped around my waist and two more were winding up Spike’s legs as he hacked away and dodged enemy flames. Spike was the last person I wanted tackling this demon with its flame-throwing tendencies, but he’d insisted I not go alone.
“Phone.” I ducked a tentacle that swung at my head, avoiding some sort of secretions that were likely venomous. I swung my ax at the closest head’s long neck and missed. My blade wedged deep into the grassy mound. Damn it. “Ringing.”
“Bloody fine timing, pet,” Spike growled, his fangs and yellow eyes firmly in the forefront as he leaned back away from a pair of tentacles and swung his sword at the tentacle that gripped his ankle.
Yanking my ax free, I grunted as my tentacle tightened its grip on my torso. Straining, I managed, “We’ve been waiting for it.”
Spike chopped free from his other tentacle, dropped into a roll to avoid more flames, and slashed me loose. “Couldn’t have timed it? Maybe scheduled it a little better?”
“Thanks. And I did schedule it.” Spike and I faced the creature side by side; I loved having him near me even if only for a moment; his vibrancy reassured me that he was still intact. I added, “We didn’t know that we’d be doing this!”
“True enough.” Without even a glance at me, we fell into one of our usual patterns, fanning out and trying to confuse the creature. Likely tired from the fight and irritable that we’d been out here so long, Spike lost his patience and started swinging wildly; I didn’t blame him. “This sodding thing. . . Will. Not. Die.”
I borrowed his momentum and sped up, whirling and kicking and arcing my ax through the air, managing to slice and dice everything but a neck. “Even without heads.”
Spike was having similar luck. “Ring tone’s the worst soundtrack to this fight. Making my ears bleed.” As he commented, fire singed the sleeve on his shirt, and he quickly tamped it out with the metal of his sword, barely sidestepping another tentacle. “Bloody hell!”
“Leah programmed it.” My phone went quiet for a moment. Damn. I missed the call.
“Why were you letting a four-year-old mess with your ringtones?”
I shrugged and danced around behind Spike for distraction and to stave off tentacles. “Kept her busy during the initial Friday evening rush? She likes Elmo.”
The strains of Elmo’s World sang out jauntily again as Spike finally landed his sword home and another fire breathing head thudded to the ground, the loud shriek of agony rising over the song’s beat. “Ha ha!” he crowed in victory.
My ax cut down the now lackadaisical tentacle sweeping for his head. “Don’t brag too much.”
“It’s slowing down,” Spike observed, now back in the fray. “Answer the phone!”
“You sure?” I spun and ducked and landed a hard kick in the creature’s side wound. It shrieked and aimed its efforts at me, allowing Spike to behead it again.
“Yeah. Go now.” The remaining reptilian faces all jerked back Spike’s direction and hissed at him. “Four down. Three to go. I like those odds, love.”
Accepting his permission, I dove for the bag and the incessant phone. Cutting off the furry, annoyingly-friendly Sesame Street monster mid-word, I answered, trying not to sound too breathless or intense, “Hello?”
“Buffy! Long time no speak.” Willow sounded happy, happier than I’d heard her sound in a long time. She’d been out of reach of cell service for several months as she’d gone on a magic retreat to some place in Asia that Oz told her about. She’d needed the break, her first real vacation in years, and it was with her ex. The trip had to have been interesting to say the least. I’d have to call her later about that. “Giles is here, too.”
“Great.” The beast’s heads roared in unison behind me. Not as great.
“Buffy, dear lord, what’s going on there?” Giles voice sounded tiny and far away. Willow must have put me on speaker phone.
“Oh, nothing. Just fighting a seven-headed hell beastie,” I said, borrowing Spike’s casual term for most demons from other dimensions. “Well, three-headed now. Usual Tuesday evening fare. You know.”
Giles’s confusion shone through. “I thought Emily was taking on the apocalypse. Didn’t Liz, Hana, and Bridgette arrive to help?”
“They did. Katie drove in from Baton Rouge, too. This is a different situation altogether. Witch in over her head.” I watched Spike as he parried and darted and somersaulted around his target, a grin on his face. He was having fun now that the demon was over halfway subdued.
“Say no more,” Willow said knowingly, her voice a bit louder than Giles’s. “We won’t keep you long. Sorry, this is at a bad time.”
“No worries,” I said, squatting to rummage around for my spare ax. Spike had somehow lost this sword to one of the remaining heads.
Spike glimpsed what I was doing, and I barely caught the relief in his eyes. I tossed him the weapon. Spike jumped and dodged tentacles before the handle landed home against his palm. He nodded briefly and dove back into the battle.
“To make it quick, Willow and I did a bit of research, and – ”
Willow interrupted, “Don’t be so modest, Giles. You did the bulk of it. He’s been working on it for days, Buffy. There’s really not much out there on the topic of humans and vampires having kids and none on Slayers and vampires.”
I winced as Spike almost got burned to ash – literally. My muscles and patience were wearing thin even though I really wanted to hear what they had to say. I gripped my ax. “Bottom line please.”
“I found one spell, Buffy. It may help increase your chances. Willow and I have done a rough translation from ancient Sumerian. Consulted an expert. It is seemingly simple, but it requires the human half of the couple to be very fertile. I would suggest. . . well, I would. . .” Giles trailed off, and I was distracted by Spike racing close by me, a demon neck and head following close behind.
“Hold on,” I called, dropping the phone and raising my ax. I swung hard and with little fanfare, a decapitated demon head landed with a clunk at my feet, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. Some sort of viscous fluid flowed from its severed neck, and its serpentine eyes bulged, looking as if they might pop. Gross.
“Thanks, love!” Spike sang out as the creature continued after him. He threw his head back and laughed, punctuating his taunt by hewing some more tentacles.
“You’re welcome!” I retrieved the phone from where it was wedged between a stake and a bottle of holy water in the bag. “I’m back. Sorry. What were you trying to say, Giles?”
There was a moment of silence followed by some soft but urgent whispers.
“Fine. I’ll do it.” Willow’s tone told me that she was annoyed but also somewhat amused, and her volume told me that she’d taken me off speaker phone.
“Do what?” I asked.
“Tell you that you should get checked out by your OB or a reproductive endocrinologist to check on your chances of conceiving.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
“Buffy?” Willow asked. I could almost picture the concerned lines creasing between her green eyes.
I hadn’t thought of that, but I was thirty. Though the recommendation made sense, the thought that I’d waited too long to try kind of blew my mind. I summoned some energy to infuse in my next words, “I’m here. And that makes sense. Thank you. Better get back to the fight.”
“You’re welcome, and Buffy?”
“Yeah?”
“Let’s Facetime soon, okay? I miss you.”
A wave of nostalgia for girl time with my best friend washed over me. Nowadays, we rarely saw each other. “Miss you, too. It’s a date.”
“Texting you the spell.”
“Thanks, Wil.”
Hanging up, I tossed my phone aside and rejoined my vampire in the fight. His face shifted to his human visage as soon as he saw me, and his blue eyes flashed with concern. I smiled to let him know that all was well.
A gush of fire shot between us, and channeling my mix of bewildering emotions into the skirmish, I joined Spike in his dance as we fought and slaughtered the remainder of the beast. After we conquered our foe, I kissed Spike until he couldn’t see straight and took him home to bed. Willow’s text could wait until another day.
* * *
7. The day that I called your Aunt Dawn
In the early afternoon, I was curled up in Spike’s recliner in the living room. The doors were shut to the bedroom where Spike was fast asleep, and the doors were shut to the bathroom between, providing the best sound blockage I could get. The day outside was sweltering and humid, so going outside was out of the question, and I was still not a good enough driver to take our car on a spin while I talked on the phone. (I’d learned that the hard way.)
I wasn’t trying to hide anything from Spike, but we’d been doing this simple spell thing for six months, and nothing was happening. Well, we were doing something in combination with the spell, and nothing was happening. No babies. No nothing. Just my cycle like usual, which I supposed was a good thing.
I’d always been regular even when I lost weight due to stress. Low weight was not my issue now that the mantle of the world was no longer on my shoulders. I wasn’t super curvy either, but I was nicely average, and Spike seemed to appreciate the softness to my body that hadn’t been there before.
And I’d much rather be snuggled in our comfy bed with him than attempting to make this phone call.
Honestly, the reason I was staring at my phone without dialing was because part of me was embarrassed. Maybe even ashamed? From all the information I’d been researching online, the consensus seemed to be that women bore the blame for not having children. And women who weren’t fertile lost their appeal in collective society’s view.
That brought me to the thing that bothered me the most. If I couldn’t bear children due to getting older, that meant I was passing Spike up. He’d be perpetually young as an immortal vampire, and I was destined to attain wrinkles and grey hair and to be less agile and less attractive. (Though, I wasn’t quite sure if that was true given that I was a Slayer, and Slayers didn’t generally live to be thirty years old.) Would he want me then?
Before I dove further into my brain, the phone rang in my hands, a nice standard telephone ring. I’d recently taken off the Elmo song. Spike would be pleased.
Dawn’s name appeared on the screen, and taking a deep breath, I slipped my thumb over the glass and held the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Hey, Buffy! You were supposed to be calling me, right? Is this the right time?” My sister sounded rushed.
“Oh, yeah! Sorry. I was just –” My words came out overly bright. Bugger. Spike was in my head.
Dawn cut me off. “I have fifteen minutes now because my roommate’s car broke down, and she needs me to pick her up at her job, so she can get to her afternoon class.”
“Sorry, Dawnie. That sounds stressful.”
Dawn snorted at my validation, and I could almost picture her expression of frustration. “It is. This is the third time this has happened. Doesn’t she realize that I’m not her chauffeur and that other people have classes and need to protect their study time?” She didn’t bother to wait for me to answer her questions. “So what’s up? Is this about your visit in a couple of weeks?”
Dawn was working on her master’s degree in communication at the University of Denver where she loved the emphasis on culture and the ability to tailor the coursework to her interests. She’d already connected with someone Giles knew who could teach her about demon cultures and communication-things related to said societies.
She gave me the opening, which gave me courage. “Yes. And Dawnie, while I’m there, there’s something I need to do.”
“Something Slayer-y?”
I bit my lip. “Not exactly, but it is something important that I wouldn’t normally take time from us to do. So, I’m warning you in advance.”
“Is it something I can help with, Buffy? You’re okay, right? I mean, health-wise?” Dawn’s mind often skipped to memories of loss and death for good reason.
So, I was quick to reassure her, “I’m fine. Healthy as ever.” I paused. “But I am going to see a doctor.”
“What kind of doctor?” A few seconds passed as I tried to figure out how to tell her, but she beat me to it. “Does it have anything to do with that spell Willow and Giles sorted out for you?”
Wait. What? “How do you know about that?”
“Well, they asked me to help translate it. I am, after all, an expert in Sumerian.” Cocky girl, my sister.
“So, you know about that.” I didn’t bother to hide the irony that of course, she knew. Xander and Andrew and all the Slayers probably knew, too.
“I do, and I’m so excited for you and Spike. Wait, it is for you and Spike, right?”
“Duh.” My heart ached a little for the man sleeping in the next room.
“Oh good. Spike will be a good dad.” She sounded relieved, and I was a little offended that she thought it could be anyone else.
“I know. You were one of the reasons I told him he would be.” Should I have gone there?
Dawn sounded half-surprised, half-pleased that she had been part of the discussion. “Me? Why?”
“Because he took care of you. When I was gone and before and after, too.” He took care of Dawn too many times for me to count even when I didn’t know she needed caring for. I could never repay him for that.
“Oh, right. He did.” Dawn’s relationship with Spike was complicated. She’d justifiably held onto the anger and hurt about him almost hurting me far longer than I had. She hadn’t known the messed-up nature of our initial attempt at a relationship – how “no” often meant “yes” and “yes” sometimes meant “no.”
I could own my piece and see my role much more easily than Dawn could from the outside looking in. In her mind, she could only see that someone she trusted beyond measure had betrayed that trust, and at the time, she’d had too many hurts and losses in a row. The last few years had been a turning point for them. I’d encouraged him to reach out and keep reaching out with olive branches without forcing the issue until she finally found a place in her heart to forgive and let go. Comments like this one always reminded me that they still had a little way to go.
“You know he did. We both trusted him even if we never admitted it.”
“Even if you never admitted it,” Dawn corrected. Okay, so I sort of led her there, and she was a smart girl – woman. She knew it. “What kind of doctor are you seeing?”
“Well, for the spell to work properly, the human half of the couple has to be ‘especially fertile.’”
“Ugh. Really? That’s how Giles said it?” I was amused that my sister knew exactly who said those words.
“Yes and yes. Ergo, I want to get checked out by a. . . reproductive endocrinologist. And I was reading online th –”
“You’ve been researching online?” She didn’t have to sound so shocked.
I shrugged even though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah.”
“This is really important to you.”
My heart thumped in my chest. “Yes.”
“I’m coming with you.” I could almost picture the stubborn jut of her chin and the flash of determination in her eyes. She really was related to me.
Trying not to talk too loudly but still convey my insistence, I protested, “Dawnie, you have class. . .”
“I don’t care. You’re important to me.”
I shook my head. “This isn’t like with Mom.”
Before Dawn could respond, the door to the bathroom swung open, and Spike entered the room, curls tousled from sleep but eyes clear and blue, a tinge of fear in the barely perceptible squint. “What’s not like your mum?”
My mouth gaped, much to my mortification, and I found that I couldn’t form words or breathe – like a fish out of water. Anxiety made my already rapid heart rate go higher.
Knowing that Spike could hear her, Dawn said, “She’s going to see a fertility doctor when she comes to see me.”
Spike read me like a book, and his fear gave way to kindness. He held out his hand. Without thought, I slipped my fingers over his dry, cool palm and breathed, air rushing into my lungs and easing the painful ache from lack of oxygen. He helped me up and led me to the sofa where we sank down together.
“I’m coming with you, love.”
With Dawn still on the line, I let the phone drop from my ear as a tear rolled over my cheek – evidence of my own fears. A misplaced laugh escaped my lips. Spike merely kissed the top of my head and took the cell from me. As he said goodbye to my sister, I realized that I wasn’t alone in this journey, not like I thought I was.
* * *
8. The night of our plane ride to Denver
“So what’s it that we’re supposed to do? And why are we going to Denver to do it?” Spike leaned over the armrest on the old Frontier airlines jet. The plane was virtually empty given that we were on the red-eye flight out of New Orleans to Denver in the middle of the week.
“Well, I picked this place because it’s supposed to be one of the best places in the country, and it happens to be in a suburb of the city where Dawnie’s going to school, and our insurance covers a lot of it, including the lab.” I had been studying the clinic’s schedule for the assessment and held the paper out to him. “The workup takes all day, but I got you the earliest slot. Well, they worked you in before sunrise. I told them you had to work. Guess they’re used to accommodating.”
Spike perused the sheet. “Um, love, why am I giving a sample of the ole swimmers? That’s not going to go over well. And what if they. . .” Spike looked around; no one was close enough to hear, “take my blood pressure or want to do blood tests?”
I shrugged. “Apparently, they don’t just go by our word. They have to run all their own tests. They’re very thorough.”
He gave me side eye. “Still doesn’t explain how I’m going to go about fooling the medical sensors.”
“That’s why Willow is meeting us in Denver. To give you a little magical enhancement.” I kissed his cheek.
“Don’t rightly like that idea, pet.” He meant the magic. “Why does Red even care about this?” Spike’s query was more about him than about us. Even after all this time, he expected derision and rejection from my friends. It probably didn’t help that we hadn’t really spent time with them in years.
“Wil cares about me. And she cares about us. She only ever wanted me to be happy with the guys in my life. She was always my current boyfriend’s biggest cheerleader.” This was true. I could still picture her face while she folded laundry in my living room while I talked about my impending date with Robin, encouraging me to put myself out there and let someone close even as the First Evil was preparing to take us all down. I also remembered that I thought she meant that I was still in love with Spike. I was; I just hadn’t let myself go there at the time.
“Even Angel and that lame excuse for a military man who got all lost in the sucking and married the first girl he ran across after you?” Spike was trying to sound incredulous and ironic but came off jealous.
I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm and unneeded jealousy but hugged his arm all the same, running my fingers down his forearm to clasp my hand in his. “Even them. But you and I have lasted longer than all of them for many good reasons, and I love you the most-est.”
He lifted my hand to kiss the back of it before playfully nibbling my knuckle. “You better.”
I leaned against him, and he laid his head atop mine. My anxiety fidgeted its way through the muscles in my limbs, and I recognized how much tension was in my back. Spike must have felt it because he rubbed my arm with his free hand. Then, he slipped his arm around my shoulders and held me.
“What’s on your mind, pet?” he whispered. “You’re tighter than one of those wind-up toys that Leah’s fond of.”
I laughed at that. Leah did like her wind-up rabbit I bought her for Easter. Her little hand would frequently sneak over the countertop at the coffee shop, and she’d let the toy go so that it hopped a crooked path, much to the amusement of customers waiting for their orders. “I guess I am.”
“What are you so anxious about? I mean, besides me coming off as human for their tests.”
Should I tell him? I mentally shook my head. Of course, I should. Sometimes I wondered how he was still so patient with me. Well, he wasn’t always patient, but when it came to my soft underbelly, he had been more tolerant than anyone I’ve ever known, especially if I wasn’t poking around at his soft underbelly. I sighed. “What if it’s me?”
“Not following, love.”
I bit my lip, trying to decide how to word my concerns. “I mean, what if I do all these tests and evaluations, and it’s me? What if I’m the reason the spell’s not working and the reason we can’t have a family?” As soon as I said it, I inwardly cringed, and true to my prediction, I felt Spike stiffen next to me. Damn it, Buffy.
How fortuitous that we were on a plane and couldn’t get away from one another or yell without drawing attention from other drowsy passengers like the middle-aged guy dressed in a business suit two rows up. As it was, Spike’s lower volume was more disconcerting. “What do you mean if it’s you? Bloody hell, Slayer, it’s me. I’m the reason we can’t have a child. Vampire here. Or did you forget?” I started to protest, but he withdrew his touch before I could speak. The loss of the physical connection brought me straight back to the first night we fought about this same topic, which threw me for an emotional loop. “The sodding spell that Rupert and Willow found is just a diversion from the truth. I’m the one holding you back from a normal life and a regular family. It’s. Not. You.”
I was a little better prepared this time. “That’s not what I meant.” While not the most eloquent, it wasn’t Buffy putting her foot in her mouth.
“What did you mean then?” His voice was still raw around the edges but slower and less heated. This gave me the space to think.
I made sure he and I were making eye contact. “I don’t want normal. Remember? Slayer here. Not normal. And normal is a poorly defined concept.”
He sighed, slightly dissuaded from his defensiveness. “I know that, pet.”
“It’s just that part of our not normal is that I’m going to age. I’ve already aged. A lot of women start having trouble conceiving at thirty due to age-related factors. And with the Slayer gig, who knows if something is. . . damaged inside. I’ve taken a lot of hits in a lot of places in that region. Well, all regions really. A-and I died. More than once. Could that do something to my fertility?” I left out the part about whether he’d want me when I started aging well beyond him. He had enough to try to absorb.
“You also have superhuman healing,” he reassured me, bumping his upper arm against mine. “And love, contrary to what I said to you in a fit of anger, you didn’t come back wrong. What’d Glinda call it? A cellular tan?”
“Yeah.” Unconvinced, I didn’t add that said cellular change might have impacted my eggs. They were, after all, cells. I studied my hands, palms upturned in my lap. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that his hand was similarly vulnerable on his thigh. Without overthinking my movement, I snaked my hand into his again.
He squeezed just slightly. “One step at a time, love. That’s all we can do. If – and that’s a big ‘if’ – you turn out to be contributing to our difficulty, then, we will figure out what to do next.”
“Together?”
“Together.” He paused and then added, “It’d be a miracle anyway.” My stomach sank, and I found myself holding my breath. He continued even though he was likely not oblivious to the change in my breathing. “Rupert and Red didn’t find any evidence that this has ever been done before?”
Mute, I shook my head.
“I worry about you getting your hopes up when the odds are against us.” His thumb gently ran over the side of my hand. “Will you be okay if this is all for naught? If you’re not, will we be okay?”
He was asking if us not having a child would tear us apart. At that point, I didn’t know. I was so far into this. . . quest that I didn’t know. I swallowed. Would I get sucked back into the pit of depression, and if I did, would I hurt Spike again? Would I be able to climb out of despair? “One step at a time.”
* * *
9. The day of the evaluation
A nurse named Amy, who was dressed in colorful scrubs, her blonde hair cut in a short pixie cut, let us into the underground parking garage well before the sun came up. As she held open the door, keys jangling in her hand, she explained in a way that told me she’d made this speech many times, “When women come in for egg retrievals or other surgeries, we let them come in here, so they don’t have far to go after the procedure, and it’s more private. You’re here bright and early, so this is the only way in. They don’t unlock the front doors until later.”
This was highly convenient, considering Spike was a vampire. I couldn’t help but ask, “Egg retrievals? For IVF?”
“Yes,” Amy acknowledged, her kind eyes crinkling at the outer corners revealing her age despite the youthful glow in her eyes. With an efficient gait, she led us down a hallway from the garage. The clinic wasn’t sterile but was simple in its décor and somehow soothing and inviting. Maybe it was the warm, non-fluorescent lights in the hallway. “But not for you today, right? You’re here for the one-day work up?” (The women in online fertility forums abbreviated it to the “ODWU.”)
I nodded. “Yes.” I glanced at Spike who was putting effort into maintaining a neutral face. “And. . . William has to go to work, so the people who scheduled us got us in early.”
“Ah,” Amy glanced at Spike, no doubt taking in his black clothes, bleached hair, and very pale skin. She seemed curious but unsurprised by his appearance.
Nerves kept me talking. Stupid nerves. “Thank you for letting us come so early.”
Still walking, Amy slowed and put a firm, warm hand on my forearm. For some reason, this calmed me immediately. “No thanks needed. We are used to accommodating a lot of schedules and situations.”
“I was reading that people come here from all over the country,” I commented, thinking about the women posting in the forums from Washington D.C. to Chicago to Dallas.
“From all over the world,” Amy corrected without a trace of arrogance.
The three of us went behind a desk and into another part of the clinic. Amy led us into a small room with two plastic chairs with cushions, a rolling stool, and a chair with large moving arms, obviously for drawing blood. She washed her hands, put gloves on, and retrieved a small plastic cup from the cabinet. Handing it to Spike, she said, “This is for your sample. There are rooms for your convenience. Just bring it out when you’re done. Make sure you put your name on it with the marker in the room. Then, we’ll do the other tests. It’s not the normal order of things, but you’re in a hurry, and I still have to check in with a couple of other people who are coming in early for other reasons.”
Holding the plastic cup as if it were a vial containing poison, Spike sighed.
Now, Amy patted his arm. I decided she must have to do the encouraging touch thing a lot in the infertility world. “It’s not so bad.” She inclined her head to me, “She can go with you if you like.”
Spike’s eyes glinted, and he sucked in his cheeks just a little so that the sharpness of his cheekbones stood out ever so slightly. Oh, he wanted me to go with. Devilish man, that one. Amy, of course, probably only noticed his charming smirk. “I think I’d like her to come with me.”
“Of course.” Amy waved her hand for us to exit the room.
Within seconds, we were at the door to a tiny room in a row of tiny rooms set up for sample giving. . . supplying. What was the proper term for the. . . sperm giving? There was low mood lighting and a leather recliner inside. A row of cabinets on the right contained a variety of mood-inducing supplies. Spike gravitated to the leather and slid into the seat, hands opened and running over the smooth surface. I swallowed, obviously more nervous than he was though there was really no reason to be if Willow’s spell held up.
As I hovered in the doorway, I suddenly remembered the cooler against my hip, the wide strap slung over my shoulder. “Oh! I almost forgot. The blood for the three-day labs.”
I’d read online about how I should have my blood drawn and spun ahead of evaluation day, so I didn’t have to figure out how to mail the blood back to them. (There was supposedly a kit we could pay for, but any penny I could save was a good thing even if Giles was paying for some sort of health insurance to cover such things. . . even for Spike in case he needed to utilize a demon clinic or hospital.) The blood components had been frozen in vials in our freezer for only a couple of days because the work-up took place shortly after the beginning of the woman’s cycle, which was right after the period ended and before ovulation. Spike had nosed around at the vials but had kept his hands off when I explained what it was for.
Amy smiled and accepted the offered cooler. “Thanks. You’re prepared.”
I nodded, relieved to have the package of ice and blood in her hands and not mine.
“We’ll return the cooler to you later in the day. Is that okay with you?” Amy asked, handling the cooler like it was precious cargo. I really liked her.
“Yes. Of course.” I fidgeted as Amy walked away. With a deep inhalation of air, I awkwardly called out to her right as she rounded the corner. “You’ll tell me if it’s what you needed?”
Amy smiled again with gentle patience. “Of course.”
“Thanks.” I gave her a little wave and then she was gone.
“Pet,” Spike said softly with a hint of seduction in his voice. “Come here.”
Every muscle relaxing, I smiled. I could really use a stress release. Shutting the door and locking it, I pivoted to find Spike perched on the edge of the recliner, legs spread and forearms resting on his thighs. He gazed at me with those bright blue eyes of his, and though his body lacked tension, there was a fierce animal hunger in his expression that always made me long for his touch. My smile widened, and I took a tentative step forward, running my finger with deliberation over the magazines in a small rack next to the silent flat screen TV and powered-off DVR box.
“You don’t want to use any of these?” I asked, trying to sound innocent.
He lifted his scarred eyebrow at me. “Now why would I want to do that, love, when I have you here?”
“You’d use them if I wasn’t? Here, that is?” I asked, reaching him and pushing him back against the chair. He complied with a soft grunt, his eyes holding fast to mine.
He grasped my hips firmly and pulled me back onto the chair with him so that my legs bent around his thighs. “Nope.”
I narrowed my eyes incredulously, nestling closer to him, noticing how much he wanted me. My heart rate picked up steam. “You wouldn’t?”
His lips soft and tender, he kissed me deeply, ending by nipping my lower lip. “Pouty. No. I wouldn’t.”
With the expediency of much practice, I undid his belt and then his jeans, giving him a disbelieving, “Hmph.”
His forehead close to mine, and his breath slightly catching, he murmured, “I would just imagine you, pet. The only woman I want.”
“Good.”
Needless to say, Spike had no trouble providing his sample.
* * *
10. The evening of the evaluation
Spike and I sat in the doctor’s office waiting on him to meet with us. We’d been waiting for thirty minutes, which wasn’t long as waits for the doctor were concerned, but it felt like an eternity for me. (Did I say we were waiting?)
The nurse I was assigned, Elaine, called me after I was already snuggled up with Spike in Dawn’s living room. I even had my pajamas on early after the day of testing. Elaine told me that the doctor wanted to see us that evening. The extra meeting wasn’t on the schedule, and I’d already met with the doctor earlier in the day. He’d asked me the standard questions about why we were seeking the evaluation and reviewed the information he’d already received, which didn’t include all the test results yet.
Now, Spike fidgeted next to me, his fingers playing with an uneven seam on the arm of his chair. His skin was extra pale under the luminescence of the florescent lights, especially in contrast to his black t-shirt. “She didn’t say why we had to come in?”
“No. Just that he wanted to meet with us. You heard everything I did.”
Like a kid waiting for the principal, Spike squirmed more, leaning forward in his seat and trying to peer around me into the hallway as if he could will the doctor to appear. “Well, that’s bloody great. I’m sure this isn’t good, pet. Doctors never call for extra meetings without some sort of problematic something or other.”
I considered that Spike might start pacing soon. His visible display of anxiety, oddly enough, was alleviating my own, and I merely shifted in my chair, wincing at the twinge of pain.
Spike caught my flinch. “You okay, love?” He’d been checking on me since I returned to Dawn’s apartment, and I found that I wanted to reassure him.
Reaching for his hand across the gulf between the chairs, I said, “Right as rain.”
“Some of the tests hurt,” he acknowledged, folding his cool hand around my smaller one.
I’d tried to hide it from him but obviously failed and miserably. “Oh yeah. The dye test and the hys. . . hysteer. . .” How had the nurse said this word earlier? I tried again, “Hysteroscopy were the most painful. But honestly, I’m probably quite a bit less sore than other women. Slayer healing comes in handy.”
Spike abruptly sat up a little straighter.
“He’s coming?”
“Yeah. Someone is.” There’d been a few nurses around and no one in the main lobby’s waiting room, which had dimmed with the darkened sky. It was a logical conclusion.
My heart started beating faster, and my stomach twisted, signaling the return of my nervousness. I squeezed his hand and let go. “We got this.”
“Hello,” Dr. Surrey said as he entered the room. He was a tall, older man about Giles’s age with brown hair. He wore dress clothes, including a tie, under his white physician’s coat. “How are you guys?”
Spike and I both stood up at the same time. Still like kids in the principal’s office. The doctor held out his hand and shook both of ours. He had a firm handshake and a kindness about his demeanor that eased my stress just a fraction.
As the doctor settled into his chair, he said, “So, you’re probably wondering why I had you come back in so soon.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, did you already get my test results back? Is something wrong?”
Dr. Surrey shook his head. “No. Nothing’s wrong with your test results. We haven’t finished processing all of them yet, of course.” He shook his mouse to wake up his computer screen. “However, the ones we do have back are really promising.” He typed and clicked the mouse a few times before swiveling the monitor our direction. “Looks like your baseline ultrasound and doppler results show that you have good blood flow to your uterus. That’s what we want to see.” The information on the screen all looked like Greek to me, but I’d seen the ultrasound in action at the time of the test, which had been pretty nifty. Dr. Surrey clicked around some more and pulled up a different document. “And your hysteroscopy results looked excellent. Just a couple of really small polyps in your uterus.”
I donned my best curious face and ignored my accelerated heart rate. “What does that mean?”
He nodded at me. “That’s a good question. That means that your uterus looks good for carrying a child.”
Relief flooded me, and the tension in my shoulders eased a fraction. “Oh. That’s good.”
“Very good.” He smiled and then said, “So, the reason that I’m most concerned is that William’s results are indicative that something else is going on.” He sat back in his chair again and regarded us evenly. He was still friendly appearing, so it couldn’t be that bad, right? Had Willow’s magic held up?
I plunged ahead. Why not rip off the proverbial Band-Aid? “What did you find?”
“Well, for one, his. . . your sperm sample showed that you don’t have any living sperm. This, in and of itself, is not something that caught our attention. We see plenty of men who are in a similar situation.”
They’re dead. . . undead? Animated by a demon? I tried not to giggle even though this struck me as highly amusing. I bit my cheek and then found myself asking, “So what did you notice?”
Why was Spike being so quiet? That wasn’t like him. I sneaked a glance at him. His face was still, but there was a hint of fear in his blue eyes. This wasn’t like Spike. The only time I’d truly seen fear on his face was when he was terrified of my reaction. . . of losing me. He generally wasn’t afraid of much. . . even in a fight when he was outmatched. I scooted my chair close to him and looped my arm with his, rubbing his forearm.
Dr. Surrey seemed to be watching us with patience, and he didn’t seem to be freaking out, so when he said his next words, I was completely blown away. He addressed Spike, “You’re a vampire.”
Spike immediately started to his feet, knocking his chair backward and pulling me up with him.
Dr. Surrey stood, too, hands raised to try soothing Spike. “Hold on. I’m not holding that against you. We see our fair share of demon-human couples who are struggling with infertility. It’s actually more common than you’d think. . . the couples, not the infertility piece. They generally tend to struggle with conception. But we do help them. And while we’ve never had a vampire come through our doors, especially not trying to conceive with a human, we are willing to try and help.”
Spike’s whole body visibly relaxed, and I hastily righted his seat. We both sat down again and so did Dr. Surrey. The doctor was unruffled, which made me consider what he’d previously experienced in his office. The demon revelation added a whole other element to my admiration for the clinic. How had I not known about demons and humans trying to conceive? I should have known about that, right?
“So, how did you figure it out?” Spike asked, his leg shaking up and down just slightly. I put my hand on his thigh and squeezed, and his leg settled.
“Well, we do have a witch on staff. Since we built our reputation and our clientele diversified to include demons, we figured we should be in the loop on the supernatural. In addition to being an exceptional nurse, she has a degree in demonology.”
“So, she saw through what Willow did?” I asked. I frowned a little as my brain put the pieces together for me. “Amy?”
Dr. Surrey’s eyes sparkled. “Yes. She’s been with us a long time. She helps out whenever we have unusual requests just to make sure things are on the up and up. She could also tell that Buffy wasn’t in a state of. . . what do you call it?” He paused for a moment and then, his eyes lit with remembrance. “Thrall. She noticed how caring you were with one another.”
“What can you do to help us, doc?” Spike’s leg was bouncing again but almost imperceptibly.
Dr. Surrey’s response was firm but gentle. He knew how to deliver bad news. He must have learned how to do it well in his field. I was used to that, too, only my bad news was usually the pointy end of a stake in the heart for the vampire of the evening. “Well, first, we have to figure out what Buffy’s test results show. Then, depending on those, we will recommend a course of action. Right now, I’m thinking IUI or IVF. Unfortunately, our technology does not allow us to reanimate sperm. We do not use magic in our practice. So, you are looking at using a sperm donor.”
All I could think about in that moment was how Spike was right in his proclamation on the plane and in his fear the first time I brought up having a family. My heart ached for him. Of course, he knew this truth. It was self-evident for a vampire. But hearing it said out loud, confirming it, wasn’t easy. Screw where we were. I stood up and sat on the thigh that had been jiggling. I touched his cheek and held his gaze with mine.
“One step at a time,” I reminded him.
He searched my eyes for a moment and then blinked. “Right.” He shifted me so that we both faced the doctor. “So, Buffy and I have things to discuss.”
“Perfectly reasonable,” Dr. Surrey said. “Take all the time you need. We can discuss things further in the follow-up meeting. Because you’re from out of state, it will be on the phone. The ladies in the front will follow up on scheduling the phone call for after all your test results are in. It generally takes a couple of weeks. Sound good?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I was grateful. . . grateful that we’d have real answers, grateful that we didn’t have to pretend to be something we weren’t. The next worry was looming though and that was what Spike thought about a sperm donor.
“You’re very welcome,” Dr. Surrey rose. “Hope you both have a good evening.”
“One more question.” This was a very important question.
“What’s that?” The doctor asked.
Spike spoke up, but I couldn’t tell how he felt about the meeting from his tone. “She wants to know if she can have caffeine again.”
I pointed a finger at Spike. “That’s the one!” I hadn’t been able to have any for twenty-four hours before the test, and an un-caffeinated Slayer did not make for a happy Slayer.
Dr. Surrey laughter was loud but unpretentious, and I appreciated that my doctor had a sense of humor.
“Yes, Buffy, you may have a cup of coffee. . . for now.”
I grinned despite the ominous “for now.” “Perfect.”