26. The morning of what felt like impending doom
Similar to the day of our initial evaluation, Amy was the nurse who greeted us in the underground parking lot. She held the door open for us, letting us inside. “Good morning. Come on in. You’re the first ones here again. Making it a habit?”
I smiled ruefully. “Hopefully not.”
Amy returned my smile and gently touched my arm. I still couldn’t believe she was a witch; her gentle nature reminded me a bit of Tara. “Come on this way. Let’s get your ultrasound done, okay?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded. “Okay.” I glanced back at Spike, and though he still looked uncomfortable to be in the clinic, he scooped up my hand in his, and I shivered, afraid to say anything because I wasn’t sure the words could come out clearly past the emotion.
Together, Spike and I hurried after Amy who strode swiftly down a hall or two and into the main area of the clinic. She made sure we were behind her and motioned to us even as she continued to walk. “This way.”
When we arrived at the door to one of the exam rooms, I hesitated. Crossing that threshold meant that there was no turning back. Like Schrodinger’s cat, if I stayed outside, my eggs were equally likely to be there and not there. Spike squeezed my hand.
Amy caught my wavering. “He can come in with you.”
The compassion in her eyes made the air push past my fear. “I’m scared.”
She touched my arm, which grounded me for a moment. “It’s understandable. The sooner we look though, the sooner we’ll know what to do next.” At least, she wasn’t lying to me.
“C’mon, love.” Spike nudged me forward. “I’m coming with you.”
I entered the room and began trembling all over. Trying hard to hide it, I stood still and held my arms around my ribcage.
Amy turned on the ultrasound machine and swept the privacy curtain across, effectively dividing the room. “You can keep your dress on. Just take off your underwear, cover with the sheet, and I’ll be back in a minute.”
I didn’t reply but kicked off my sandals and shed my panties, which I mutely handed to Spike. So many ultrasounds. I was no longer intimidated by the giant sensor they pushed up into my vagina for ovary checks, and I’d learned that wearing a flowy dress meant that I didn’t have to fully strip down. It made me feel less naked.
Spike sat in the chair in the corner. I could tell he was doing his best not to fidget or pace. He was staying calm for me. He folded my panties and set them on the arm of his seat.
Amy returned in good time as promised, and I leaned back and spread my legs, my knees angling up and the paper crinkling underneath my body. She squirted some gel on the end of the sensor. “It’s going to be a little bit cold and may hurt a bit.” Nothing I hadn’t heard before. She rubbed my forearm, her touch warm. “Breathe, honey.”
I inhaled deeply at her command and forced myself to focus on the in and out of the air in my lungs as the wand entered me. Too afraid to look at the TV that hung on the wall above, I studied Spike who was watching the screen intently as the unclear ultrasound images appeared.
He felt my stare and gave me an understanding smile. Then, he inclined his face up, encouraging me to watch.
Amy expertly maneuvered the sensor inside me, and I felt the familiar pull as she searched for my first ovary. I couldn’t help it then and my gaze found the screen. As soon as I saw the large yellowish circles with dark outlines, hope zinged through my heart. “They’re still there,” I said, half in awe and half in relief.
“They are. Let me count them.” Amy sounded as relieved as I felt. She then counted eight follicles on my left ovary and three on my right. “Does that sound about right?”
“So, I didn’t ovulate?”
Amy smiled. “You didn’t ovulate.” She removed the wand, and I sat up with care. “Get ready. We have to get you up to the surgery center right away.”
“Oh my god!” I grinned at Spike who leapt to his feet and kissed me gently on the mouth while stuffing my panties in my hand. I giggled a little at that, giddy with excitement.
We hurried across the foyer and just past the reception desk. Amy left us to assist other clients who had to be there early for other reasons. Spike pressed the up button for the elevator. Once inside the car on the way up to the second floor where surgery was located, I wrapped my arms around my vampire’s waist and laid my head on his chest, relishing the embrace and the moment of privacy.
“I love you, pet.” His voice was hoarse with emotion.
I ran my fingertips in small circles at the small of his back and looked up at him. “I’m going to be fine.”
“Don’t rightly know what I’ll do if I lose you again.” His corneas were damp with unshed tears. As the elevator doors parted, he closed his eyes.
I tugged him forward a little. “Hey. Look at me.” He reluctantly opened his eyes but gazed to the side, his eyes brimming. “I’m going to be just fine. Promise. Just going under for thirty minutes at most. I’m not leaving you.”
“You can’t promise that.”
I maneuvered my position so that he had to meet my eyes. “Oh, but I am. And you better be right there when I wake up.”
A throat cleared behind us, and Spike and I parted, but I snaked my hand down his arm to find his hand. Now was my turn to reassure him.
A young man was holding open the elevator doors with one hand and offering a clipboard with the other. “Sorry to interrupt, but before you go into surgery, there are a few more legal documents for you to sign.”
“The bloody hell? Now?” Spike sniffed and growled with a little too much annoyance. We’d already signed so many papers that I forgot what most of them said. I know some of them had to do with what we’d do with any embryos should we separate or one of us died; some were consents and health warnings about treatments, no guarantees, and side effects; and some involved Shane.
The young man paled and adjusted his glasses in a way that made me think of Giles. The elevator doors started to slide closed again, but he quickly whacked his hand back into place. “I’m sorry. It’s just that we’ve never had a vampire who is part of the IVF process here, and our legal team had to draft a few extra documents to cover – ”
I clasped Spike’s hand, and his next question was decidedly softer. “To cover your ass?”
“Let’s just fill it out,” I redirected, stepping out of the elevator and taking the clipboard from the man’s shaky hand.
“T-thanks, ma’am.”
I filled out the forms while Spike read them over my shoulder and borrowed the pen to initial or sign as needed. He occasionally snorted and shook his head at the lawyers’ attempts to account for his undead, immortal status. Still, at least he was signing. As we neared the end of the stack, a nurse wearing scrubs and a cap popped out of the over-sized door nearby.
“Buffy Summers?” she asked.
I sat up a little straighter. “That’s me.”
“I hear we’re in a hurry, so let’s get you started.” She glanced at Spike. “You can come with her for a minute. Then, you’ll need to step out. You’re using a sperm donor, who is here. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” I said.
She addressed Spike. “Then, you’ll need to go make sure he’s checked in and settled.” I briefly wondered if she was trying to keep Spike occupied while I was in surgery.
Spike nodded solemnly. “Got it.”
The young man with the glasses was still hovering nearby, and I passed off the papers. “I think we got all of them.”
“Perfect,” he said with a little bow. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
Once past the big door, things happened so quickly that I barely had a chance to understand what was happening. I had to change into a hospital gown but could wear socks to keep my feet warm. They then hooked up an IV and gave me a Valium. The nurse stayed right with me, making sure I was comfortable. An anesthesiologist came by and shook my hand, introducing himself and checking some things. Then, the doctor stopped briefly in to say hello. I think they checked my blood pressure somewhere in there. The reproductive endocrinologists traded off, and Dr. Surrey’s day to do egg retrievals was not Monday. The young female doctor smiled, told me her name was Dr. Kondapalli, and said she’d be ferreting out my eggs. Spike barely had time to kiss me on the forehead before I was being wheeled down the hall and into the surgery room. I was awake long enough to have a brief conversation with the nurses before I remembered nothing else.
When I woke up, I opened my eyes and realized that I was in a different place with curtains drawn almost all around me. There was warm air blowing from a tube under the blanket covering my body. The nurse from earlier appeared seemingly out of nowhere through the opening in the drapes, and she smiled.
“How are you doing?” She checked some monitors. “Are you warm enough?”
“I-I’m okay,” I said, focusing on the temperature. “Cozy.”
“You did good,” the nurse assured.
“Did. . . was she able to get any eggs?” I was too groggy to feel nervous.
“Yes. Dr. Kondapalli retrieved twelve eggs.”
“Twelve. W-wow.”
The nurse patted my leg. “Want something to drink? Sprite, water, ginger ale? And we have a variety of crackers and cookies.”
I didn’t want anything really. My brain still felt groggy. “Ginger ale, please.”
“Be right back.” She returned shortly and set up a little snack station near my head. “I’m going to get your husband. Be right back.”
“He’s not – ” I was too tired to find the words to explain, and she was gone again. Then, it hit me. They got twelve eggs. We went from maybe having none to having twelve. One more than expected. I suddenly wanted. . . no, needed to see Spike. Unidentifiable emotions swept over me, and before I knew what was happening, I was sobbing, and I couldn’t stop.
Spike was behind the nurse, but he pushed past her when he heard me. I propped up slightly to see his face, the blue flash of his eyes, the curve of his cheekbones. His cooler thumbs swept away my tears, and I leaned into his touch.
“She wasn’t like that when I left her,” the nurse explained. “Let me get you some tissues.” She hurried away.
“Oh, Spike. We got twelve eggs.” I slumped back down onto the pillow, and he swept the hair off my forehead.
He sat lightly on the edge of the bed and smiled. “And the little swimmers are a go.”
“Thank Shane for me.”
“Already did. You did good, love.”
I tucked my hand under his where it rested on the blanket. “We did good.”
27. The morning of day six
Waiting had never been my strongest suit, and the wait between the phone call with our fertilization report and day six felt like forever. Out of the twelve eggs, nine had been mature or capable of being fertilized using Shane’s sperm and a technique called ICSI, and of the nine, six fertilized in the correct way and were left alone to grow in the lab culture, some mix of chemicals that I couldn’t begin to understand. The goal was to grow them to the blastocyst stage and then biopsy the part of the embryo that would become the placenta to check to make sure all the chromosome pairs were present and accounted for. Though the clinic didn’t require someone of my age to do genetic testing, Spike and I agreed to do it because he didn’t want me to go through a miscarriage or for us to have to make a difficult decision that we didn’t want to make.
“Buffy! Focus!”
I startled so hard that I almost knocked an empty coffee mug onto the coffee shop floor. “Don’t have to shout,” I muttered, hooking a few fingers through the almost slayed cup’s handle and his equally dirty cousin at the same table.
“You’ve been all off this morning,” Roger complained. Roger always complained about everything. “Don’t know why you bothered to come into work.”
Because I needed the distraction, you asshole. I wasn’t usually so irritated with him, but today was an exception. “Mary said I could pick up a couple of shifts even though I’m still on vacation.”
The only one available the morning I really needed it was with the most annoying of co-workers: Roger. Roger who forgot to buy milk, who delegated all his work to whatever poor sap happened to be stuck on a shift with him, who couldn’t ever break even on the register, who chatted up the female customers to “keep the business happy” instead of making drinks even when the line was almost out the door. That Roger.
“Well, I need you to focus because we gotta keep the busin – ”
Picking up the napkins and empty sugar packets and tossing them in the trash, I completed the sentence for him, “Gotta keep the business happy. I know.” I knew plenty of customers who avoided the shop when he was around. They told Crystal and me and more than once. Mary knew he was a problem, but there wasn’t much she could do unless he really messed up.
“Buffy, you got the floor? I’m going to go unbox the supplies.” He meant that he was going in the back to watch You Tube videos on his phone and troll Plentyoffish for unsuspecting victims. Typical Roger. Once he invited me to be part of a threesome. I didn’t tell Spike about that one; it wouldn’t have ended well for Roger.
Roger disappeared before I could even reply because five customers walked through the door with that burning need for caffeine in their eyes. It was hot and sticky outside, so I’m sure they’d all want something cold.
“Good morning,” I greeted them before I rounded the counter, dumped the dirty cups in the sink, and washed my hands. “How can I help you?”
After a brief assessment, I decided they were tourists who had hangovers, and that was why the hunt for caffeine was so desperate. They’d obviously never been to CC’s before because they all stared at the menu over my head with almost slack-jawed expressions. I couldn’t help but be a little amused and made a suggestion to the first young man. “Caffeine’s usually not the best strategy for a hangover.”
The young man ran a hand through his curly light brown hair and then rubbed his unshaven jaw. “Oh. Well, I, hmm.” He glanced at me and then back at the menu and then back at me. “What do you suggest?”
“Well, I’d suggest drink a glass of water, a simple cup of coffee, then a glass of water. Hang out here and have a banana or some fruit or go for a walk and then come back and repeat the first thing.”
His face betrayed his confusion. “Water, coffee, water. Walk. Then, water, coffee, water?”
I laughed. “Something like that. Maybe some food that’s not typical New Orleans fare in there.”
The other male in the group who was hovering at the end of the line said, “She’s right, Mac. We’ll all do that.”
“Hey!” one girl protested, flicking one of her long braids over her shoulder. She didn’t look as disheveled as the rest of the group; she’d even bothered to comb her hair. “I was the D.D., so I can have whatever I want, and I need some caffeine.”
Another young woman teased, “Um, how were you the designated driver when we didn’t drive anywhere? We’ve been in the Quarter the whole night.”
The girl with braids blushed. “Oh, yeah.”
My phone took that opportunity to ring. Retrieving it from the pocket of my apron, I saw that the area code was 303. That was Denver. I smiled at the group. “S’cuse me. I’m really sorry.” Then, I called loudly, “Roger! I need to go on break. Female emergency!” This was sure to bring Roger running. He was horrified at any female bodily function. I couldn’t even tell him I needed to go pee without him freaking out.
The young women in the group snickered, and I headed for the women’s restroom, answering the phone as I ran. “Hello?”
“Buffy Summers?” The woman on the other end of the line sounded youthful and kind.
Despite her kindness, my heart was thundering in my chest and ears. “This is she.”
“This is Rachel from the lab in Colorado.” She totally skipped the other pleasantries, which I appreciated. “We checked your embryos today, and they’re all growing nicely. All six have made it to the blastocyst stage.”
Holy crap! From what I had been reading online, that was pretty rare. Spike and I had been expecting maybe three blasts. “Really?”
“Do you know what that means?”
Feeling like I could barely breathe, I replied, “I think so.” I knew exactly what she meant, but I wanted her to elaborate. What if she told me something I didn’t know?
“It means that all six made it to the stage where we can biopsy them for CCS testing.” Her tone was lilting and happy.
“Oh my god.” I sank onto the toilet seat, which was very clean. (I kept the bathrooms spotless; Roger always pawned that task off on me.)
“That’s good news.” She didn’t say congratulations. Like with Amy, I appreciated her tempered approach. There were no promises. “Do you want to know the days and grades?”
“I’d love to know.” I bit my lip. “Mind if I put you on speaker so I can take notes in my phone?”
“Sure. Just tell me when you’re ready,” she said, amusement creeping into her tone.
I pushed all the appropriate buttons. “Ready.”
I typed as she spoke. “You and William have two that became blastocysts on day five. The grades were a 5AA and a 2/3, and the other four were biopsied on day six. The grades are 5AA, 5BB, 5BB, and a 2/3. Do you know what the grades mean?”
As my fingers caught up, I said, “Sort of.”
She continued with the ease of someone who has explained this many times, “The fives at the beginning mean that the blastocyst is hatching out of the zona or shell, and the first letter is the grade of the inner cell mass or what will become the fetus. The second letter is the grade of what will become the placenta. An A means that each of those parts are well formed and distinct with many cells. A B means that there are fewer cells and those cells are loosely grouped. The 2/3’s are blasts but not developed enough to be given a grade; however, they are still capable of being biopsied.”
“Oh.” My happiness deflated a little.
“Keep in mind that grades don’t always correspond to whether they pass CCS testing.”
I knew this also from reading online, but it was another thing altogether to hear it being said by a professional. “Got it.”
“We’ll be calling you in a few weeks with the results of the genetic testing. Do you have any other questions?”
“No. Thank you so much. I can’t believe it!”
“It’s so nice to deliver good news.” I wondered how many times she’d had to deliver bad news like I suspected Dr. Surrey had. “I hope you have a wonderful day.”
“You, too.” I was hit by a wave of elation, and trembling, I stood and dialed Spike.
He answered the phone. To my surprise, he didn’t sound the least bit sleepy. “Hey, pet.”
“Hey! The clinic called.”
“And?”
“All six of our embryos made it to blast!” I grinned even though he couldn’t see me.
“That’s – ”
“Crazy unbelievable, right?”
“Well, we always seem to beat the odds, eh, love?”
“We do!” I realized that I heard something – maybe something outdoorsy – in the background. “Hey, where are you? I thought you’d be in bed. Asleep. ‘Cause you know, vampire and during the day?”
The coffee shop bell rang as the door opened, and I realized that I heard the same bell in my ear. “You’re here? In the middle of the morning? Are you crazy?”
“Crazy unbelievable news deserves a crazy unbelievable entrance.”
I threw open the door and ran around the wall dividing the bathroom from the entry way. Spike threw off a heavy blanket, and I barreled into him, inhaling his familiar scent mingled with the faintest tinge of burned flesh, which always made me a little anxious. “You’re here!”
He buried his face in my hair. “Where else would I be, love? It wouldn’t be very good of me if I let you be by yourself when you got the news, now would it?”
I lightly smacked his arm. “Dummy, you could have burned up.”
“Well, I didn’t.” He looped his arm over my shoulders. “Now. Where’s the hot chocolate and my favorite dessert?”
“Get to work, Buffy!” Roger shouted in annoyance.
The group I’d been helping before the call tittered again. The peanut gallery was now settling around tables: the girls with napkins and plastic utensils and the guys passing back and forth sections of the Times-Picayune.
I shrugged out of Spike’s hold and ran my fingertips down his arm to his hand, rolling my eyes about Roger. “Coming!”
Spike grinned wolfishly at me.
As I tied on my apron and passed by Roger, who was juggling drinks and waters, he hissed, “Don’t think I won’t be telling Mary about this.”
Roger’s threat didn’t bother me in the least because Mary had heard it all from him, and she knew Spike and I were doing fertility treatments. Instead, I let my happiness at the small victory sing through my soul and set to work making Spike and I some celebratory hot chocolate. Had to enjoy that caffeine while I could.
28. The day of my now weekly call with Auntie Willow
“Things are going well, huh?” I whispered at Willow as I curled up in Spike’s recliner with a big mug of coffee. Spike was sleeping in the next room. (We both had a Saturday off, which was a luxury.)
Willow emitted a happy sigh and had the goofiest look on her face – a look I always associated with Willow-in-love. Last time I saw it was with Tara and before that with Oz. My friend was beyond due in the love department. “So well.”
“I’m happy for you! How is the. . . you know?” I widened my eyes for emphasis. Willow had pulled the trigger sans Barry White a few weeks ago, but I hadn’t asked her about it in a while.
Her response was immediate. “It’s good.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Just good?”
Willow seemed suddenly shy but admitted, “More than good. I thought that. . . well, I thought I couldn’t go back. . . to boys, but well, it’s Oz. And well, I think maybe only with Oz.”
I grinned. “I get that.”
“I’m also really loving Falls Church.”
“I’m assuming it’s a city and not a church.” Willow had never been particularly religious. “Where Oz lives? In Virginia?” I didn’t know too much about Virginia, having only been to Norfolk. “And you’re close to Xander.”
Willow was glowing as she gushed. “Yeah. It’s close enough to Richmond that I can go into the city for some sisterly bonding. They have a thriving Wiccan community and some really powerful witches. I went the other weekend; they were welcoming and super excited to learn about the English coven and what I learned there. Plus, Richmond itself has so much history. So much supernatural history. And Falls Church is close enough to the open country that Oz can run wild if he feels the wolfie urge.” Oz could still control himself during the full moon if he wanted. “And seeing Xander is just like a little bonus. I didn’t realize how much I missed him, and he’s totally crushing on Carrie. He needs to make a move already.”
A wave of nostalgia, homesickness, and jealousy rolled over me. “Wow. Sounds pretty perfect.”
I couldn’t help but smile at my friend as she leaned dreamily into her palm. “Yeah.”
Oz’s face suddenly appeared over Willow’s shoulder from where she sat at the kitchen bar. His face was seemingly timeless with only an extra wrinkle or two around the eyes, presumably from smiling a lot. Today, his hair was black and spiky with electric blue tips. “Hey, Buffy.”
“Hey.” I waved at him. “What’s up?”
“Heard my name. You guys talking about me?”
I shrugged. “Well, yeah.”
“In a good, cool vibe kinda way?”
Willow kissed his cheek and then gave his face a little playful shove. “Of course! Now, go away. It’s girl time.”
Oz moved right back into place and nuzzled her temple. “I’m headed to the grocery store. Need anything?”
She smiled over at him. “Some hummus and those almond crackers.”
“Got it.” He gave her a very Oz smile, which she returned with a schmoopy one of her own.
As he walked away, Willow perked up and turned toward him. “Oh! And ice cream!”
I could barely see Oz in the distance, but he said, “Text me the flavor.”
“Thanks! I will.” Willow’s mouth pushed to one side, and I could tell she was contemplating flavor choices. “Mint chocolate chip. Edy’s.”
“Mint chocolate chip. Edy’s,” he turned back and repeated. “Love you.”
Willow’s neck turned red, and she covered the blotchiness with her free hand. “Love you, too,” she called with confidence despite all signs pointing to embarrassment.
Now both my eyebrows were up. “Ohhhh. The L-word.”
My friend rolled her eyes at me as Oz exited the room. “Okay, okay. Let’s change the subject back to you. You got the genetic results back yesterday.”
“Yeah.” The results had come in at nine days rather than the 21 that Rachel had quoted me. I’d used my phone calls with Willow as a nice distraction but hadn’t really explained to anyone how excruciating each of those nine days was. Some moments I felt okay, but other moments, I felt like my heart was swelling inside my chest, and my stomach would drop in panic. Then, when I did get the phone call from the doctor, I’d called Spike in on the phone, so he could hear, too. “We have two embryos with all the little chromosomes in place.”
“Only two of the six?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. Both were the higher-grade embryos: the day five and six 5AA’s despite the prediction that they might not be.
The line of concern appeared between Willow’s green eyes. “And that’s good, right?”
“I was hoping for more. It’s not that I want more than one kiddo necessarily. I just wanted more chances in case something went wrong.” Saying this out loud made my breath catch in my throat for a moment.
“What did the doctor say?”
“He was hopeful. He has a lot of hope for us. He’s all with the hope.” I had been, too, on the phone with the doctor, but now, I was anxious again.
“His hope didn’t exactly bring you hope.”
“Right, and he’d predicted we’d have more normal embryos given my age and Shane’s age.”
Willow’s eyes were full of sympathy, and I suddenly wished that they weren’t. “Did the doctor say why you didn’t get more?”
“Not really.”
“Think it has to do with. . .” Willow trailed off and then, asked, “Think it has anything to do with the resurrection? I mean, after what Tara found with the cell stuff?”
I shook my head. I didn’t need Willow feeling guilty for something that probably wasn’t a factor. She’d already beat herself up too much about what happened so long ago, and these days, I was grateful to be alive. “No,” I said firmly. “Honestly, Wil, I think IVF’s a lot about luck of the draw. I feel good knowing that we went to a really good place, and we have two little frost babies.”
Willow hesitated, but she went a different direction than self-punishment. “How does Spike feel about it?”
“He’s more excited than me, I think.”
“Really?” Willow took a sip of her own coffee, which reminded me to take one as well.
The hazelnut-flavored liquid was still hot on my tongue. “Yeah. I’m not sure why. I mean, I should be ecstatic, right?”
“Right?”
Running my finger over the rim of my mug to wipe off a drop of coffee, I put my thoughts together. “I think I’m just exhausted.”
Willow was quiet for a moment as she studied my face across the airwaves. “It has been quite a journey for you.”
I nodded. “For me and Spike.”
“For you and Spike. It makes sense that you’re exhausted.” Willow drank from her cup again. “You should give yourself a break.”
“This whole thing has been a roller coaster, and we did take a break. Spike took me to dinner, and we went slaying. There were beignets.” The memory of the mountains of sugar made me nostalgic. What made me even more nostalgic was holding Spike’s hand as we walked through the Quarter after a good slay. He’d even indulged my wish to have fortune told by one of the group of soothsayers and psychics that camped around the Cathedral at night. They lured in tourists for readings and for the first time, me. The lady who ran her rough fingers over my palm and squinted at the lines in my hand wasn’t very good; she just told me that my life would be dramatically changing. Could she have vagued it up anymore?
“And when was that? Months ago?” The image of Willow jerked and blurred as she got up from her seat and headed into her kitchen.
“I guess you’re right.” I leaned back a little in the recliner, propping the warm mug on my stomach.
Willow rummaged around in the pantry as she talked. I heard a Tupperware lid unseal. “What about Slayer self-care? Isn’t that in the handbook somewhere?”
“Which one? The old one or the one we wrote with Giles?” There was no Slayer handbook. It’d all been a big running joke until Giles and the rest of us who were in Sunnydale (Xander, Willow, Dawn, Faith, Robin, and I) wrote one after the collapse of Sunnydale. There were whole sections on how to identify the individual, personalized thing that kept each Slayer going. (For me, it was anger and passion; for Kendra, it was her Zen.) There were chapters on using proper slaying technique, researching, and accessing the Slayer senses by Giles with a few additions by me. There was a section on forging relationships as a protective factor with warnings about the forces of evil being insidious and prone to interfering with group dynamics. Faith may have snuck in and mostly written the initial draft on self-care. Willow later modified the chapter and added more on actual self-care beyond just “blowing off steam” after a good slay through partying and sex.
“The one that actually exists.” Willow put a large chocolate chip cookie between her lips, clicked the lid back in place, and shut the cabinet with a clunk.
“You mostly wrote that chapter.” I stuck my bottom lip out at her. “Did you make those? I want one!”
“Wish I could give you one.” She poked the cookie at the screen. “And I did, and it’s a very important chapter!”
“If only I had a copy, I’d read the whole thing,” I joked, turning on my side on the chair’s gentle, cushiony incline and setting my coffee on the lampstand.
“I can email you one.” The screen shifted again as she found her way to her sofa and settled down, all while juggling her phone, cookie, and coffee.
I frowned. “I wasn’t serious.”
Willow’s resolve face was a force to be reckoned with all on its own. “I was. I am.”
“Fine.” I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Spike and I have plenty of vacation time saved, and we do have a week before we have to start prepping for the transfer.”
Willow wasn’t caving; her jaw was still set. “Good. Transfer?”
“That’s what they call putting the embryo back into my,” I circled my finger at my abdomen even though Willow couldn’t see it, “uterus. It’s called a frozen embryo transfer. F.E.T. Little embryo reunited with me. Then, he or she just has to snuggle in.”
She took a bite of cookie, chewed and swallowed, and then said, “He or she will definitely want to snuggle in. You and Spike will make good parents.” Her unequivocal acceptance of Spike still felt new despite the years that had passed.
I smiled, letting myself feel a little bit of happiness. It was hard to. “I hope so.”
“Now, back to vacations.” Willow sure was persistent.
I sighed. “A weekend away does sound nice, but we don’t have the money with all the travelling we’ve already been doing and the medical bills.”
“Don’t worry about that. Remember, I work from home, making an excellent salary for an IT company. I don’t spend my money on anything really. Name the place, and it’s done.”
29. A night at the resort in Cancun
Every muscle in my body was relaxed. I felt like I’d never been so relaxed. The sunset massage on the beach had almost put me to sleep, and I’d hovered in that cozy place between wake and sleep as strong hands pushed and pulled and worked the tension out of muscles I didn’t even know were tense. The sound of the waves seemed to cradle my brain and wash away any nervous or worried thoughts that hovered at the edges of my mind. The sky had been a painter’s palette of pinks, scarlets, oranges, yellows, and purples when I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the sky was dark, and the stars and full moon shone above, lighting my way through the sand and back to the resort. I barely remembered thanking my masseuse and giving her a generous tip before I padded my way through nature’s fine-grained, feather soft floor to the concrete path back to the now empty pools and outdoor bars.
Spike and I had arrived at the all-inclusive resort in Cancun the previous night, had a late dinner at the steak restaurant, and slept curled up together on the large king-sized bed in our luxurious open room. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d both slept so well. Spike had stayed in bed while I explored the resort and found breakfast. The crepes with Nutella and berries melted in my mouth, and the cappuccino provided much needed caffeine. After sunbathing and sipping on cold drinks, I’d gone back to the room to find Spike awake. We’d made love slow and gentle, called in for a room service lunch, and napped before I headed out for my sunset massage. Spike had gone into the city to locate the butcher’s shop that he knew was friendly to vampires and offered a variety of types of animal blood.
The distant sound of a live band drew me closer to the main resort building where I hoped Maria waited with the supplies I’d requested earlier that afternoon before I went out to sunbathe by the ocean. My sandals dangling from one hand and my beach towel slung over my arm, I made my way past lingering couples on the tree-canopied, stone path; through an open-air restaurant filled with hungry but unhurried patrons – the scent of seafood tempting my taste buds; and around the water fountain that sprayed elegant arcs of blue-lit water from the beaks of three long-necked marble swans.
The band was playing lively Michael Jackson cover songs in the courtyard outside the main building where the resort workers had set up round tables and folding chairs, and couples were dancing, laughing, chatting, and drinking colorful cocktails that they procured from serving trays that suit-clad waiters were balancing with ease. I smiled. Maybe I could talk Spike into dancing later tonight or tomorrow evening. The beat of the music was coaxing my muscles back to life, and I smiled to myself, doing a little shimmy and twirl or two as I aimed the staircase. A young man smiled at me as I danced onto the stairs, and I smiled back before lightly jogging up the steps and into the open lobby.
Maria was on the phone at one of the side desks like she promised, and she gave me a little wave as I approached. She smiled conspiratorially at me as she hung up the phone. “Hello, Buffy. I have all the things that you requested.”
“Wow. Thank you!” I beamed.
Maria held up a finger. “Give me a moment.” Then, she disappeared through the ornately-carved door behind her, reappearing quickly as promised, pushing a small wooden cart around the desk. She pointed to each item as she listed them off and then asked, “Is that everything you wanted?”
“It’s perfect. Gracias.” I felt a little shiver of excitement.
“Be careful with the candles?” Her words came out half like a warning and half like a question.
I was serious. “I will be.”
“Would you like help?” she asked, gesturing at the cart.
I shook my head. “No, but thank you.” What if Spike was already back at the room?
The wheels rolled noisily over the stones on the way back to the suite. The supplies all stayed neatly packed together. Sliding the key card in the slot, I swung open the door. No Spike tinglies. Perfect. Holding the door open with my backside, I pulled the cart inside. Then, I set to work.
An hour later, I flipped off the lights in our suite and surveyed my handiwork. I smiled. Slipping into a clean swimsuit, I climbed the twisting staircase to our rooftop patio, being mindful of Maria’s warning not to knock over any of the candles or slip on the strewn scarlet-colored rose petals. So, I wasn’t always this romantic, but Spike deserved more than a gesture.
My phone was on the marble table where I’d left it in my decorating frenzy, and I saw that he’d texted thirty minutes ago to say he was on his way back.
The moon was full and bright above, and the citronella candles for outside were keeping the pesky mosquitos away. As I climbed the wooden steps to our small private swimming pool, I tugged my hair into a loose bun before sinking into the warm inviting water, letting the liquid envelop my shoulders. I slid to the edge of the pool and peered out over the resort before turning away from the people partying below and closing my eyes.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed before I felt Spike’s presence. He was silent on the stairs, but when he appeared, I opened my eyes. He wasn’t smiling but gazing at me with that mix of hunger and love that made me simultaneously long for his touch but want to stare at him forever. With few movements, he freed himself from clothing and joined me in the water, gliding toward me like a pale crocodile through the water. He pushed me back against the tiles of the side of the pool but then didn’t touch me except to kiss me long and tender in a recapitulation of our afternoon. When he broke away finally, I moaned in protest.
“Hello, love.”
I reluctantly opened my eyes to view the dark blue of his irises in the moon- and candlelight. “Do you like?”
He brought a wet hand out of the water and undid my hair so that the strands fell in thick locks around my shoulders, the ends dipping into the water. “Love,” he said in such a way that I didn’t know what the love referred to. He traced damp fingertips over my cheek and ran his thumb over my bottom lip.
I nipped at him and then nudged his hand away. “Guess you’re not the only one with a romantic side.”
“Never had anyone do this sort of thing for me before,” he admitted, bobbing into my space again and nuzzling my shoulder. “Not rose petals and candles, not in our own pool with all the oblivious humans down below.”
I wrapped my arms around his midsection and pulled him flush against me, so I could feel how much he. . . “Never?”
He shook his head and trailed kisses up my neck. I shivered in his arms and squirmed, letting out a breath of desire. Then, without warning, he turned me in his arms and brought us gently up against the edge of the pool, away from the side with the partygoers and toward the vast ocean. The waves rolled in with a gentle rhythm, and the sand glowed, borrowing light from the moon and stars above.
Spike peered over my shoulder and whispered, “I love being here with you. Just you and me. Feels like the world is ours. Only ours.”
I snuggled back against him, feeling the strength of his limbs in the water as he buoyed me up so that I didn’t have to kick or hold onto the side. “I love you.”
Then, we made love again with nature as our only witness, the water sloshing steadily around us – an echo to the ocean below – as we got lost in one other.
When we were both sated, Spike positioned himself in one of the tiled seats that were fashioned in the side of the pool, and I curled up in his lap with my head on his shoulder. He stroked my back as we relaxed in the heated water.
He spoke first. “I know we said we wouldn’t talk about the baby situation, but it has been on my mind even in paradise, pet.”
“Me, too,” I admitted. “There are moments that I don’t think about it at all and moments that I feel that nervous feeling from right before retrieval all over again.”
“What are you nervous about?” His voice was low and rumbly in my ear.
I held him tighter. “It not working.” I paused for a moment and then said with some irony, “It working.”
He chuckled. “I’m nervous about whether I’ll know what to do with an infant. Leah, I get. She’s old enough to talk, to tell me what she wants and when. Understands English.”
“Infants have their own way of letting you know what they need,” I said. “At least, I think they do. . . . I hope they do.”
“I don’t buy all that rubbish about different cries meaning different things,” he scoffed. I’d caught him watching some ancient video about baby cries on YouTube from some long-ago episode of Oprah – the women bouncing babies on their laps and nodding sagely about various baby cries, but I decided not to tease him about it now.
Instead, I lifted my head and made a face at him. “If anyone would be able to tell a difference, it’d be you.”
He looked uncertain. “Dunno ‘bout that, pet.”
“Change in heart rate and breathing patterns, body chemistry, minute detection of bodily fluids. You’re going to be better at this than me. Vampire senses for the win!”
He jutted his chin out, half-proudly, the candlelight casting shadows and highlighting his cheekbones. “Guess you’re probably right at that.”
“I have a feeling there’s no instruction manual though. No matter how many parenting books have been published.” I floated my palm on the top of the water.
“Right.”
“I’m worried about juggling everything. You know: work, slayage, baby, us.” I punctuated each by pushing a floating finger under the liquid surface. I lifted my eyebrows. “Not in that order, of course.”
Spike played with my fingers. “You’ll do fine with prioritizing. No doubts here.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, for one, you delegate now. Case in point: you texted Xander in Norfolk. Asked for the bitty Slayers to come help out, so we could focus on Shane.”
I hadn’t thought of that but was pleased that he’d noticed. “Good point.”
I twined my fingers with his and repositioned my head on his shoulder. We were silent for a few minutes before Spike spoke again.
“’M worried about certain people finding out.” He paused and added, “If you get pregnant.”
“What do you mean?” I was asking about the first part and not the second. My mind couldn’t go there right now, but I could appreciate Spike’s caution. There were moments I couldn’t even let myself think it might work and moments when I had more hope. It was like walking on a tightrope and not knowing which way the wind might blow.
“I mean, all the baddies and ne’er-do-wells who might come after the child of the Slayer and a vampire. Whether it’s to get to you or to me.” He was as serious as Leah was about her horses. He’d known about Nikki’s son, so he knew other nefarious types would know about our child. If we had one.
“The vampire,” I corrected, trying to shift him away from his solemnity.
He didn’t smile. “I’m not joking, pet.”
“Are you thinking about what happened to Connor?” I didn’t know much about Angel’s son except that Connor had been raised in a hell dimension.
Spike sighed and shifted beneath me. “Yeah. Connor.”
“Connor was a different situation,” I started but stopped, not wanting to highlight Spike’s tenuous biological tie to any hypothetical child we might have. “But I get your point. It just means we’ll have to take precautions. It’s a good reason to have people nearby who can help.”
“People who don’t get confused and sodding screw up.” Spike was referring to Wesley. “Might be good to consult with Angel. Much as I bloody well hate to say it.” I could sense Spike’s discomfort already rising from the way his body almost started closing in on itself despite the way the time in L.A. somewhat healed their relationship. Angel was included in the group we’d had little contact with in our semi-retirement. It seemed that having a child together meant reuniting with many people I hadn’t expected to reunite with.
I turned in Spike’s lap then and straddled him. Cupping his face in both my hands, I said, “Enough about Angel. Enough about baby stuff. We have candlelight and stars and comfy, heated water in our private pool. Let’s focus on you.” I kissed him on one cheek. “And.” I pressed my lips to his other cheek. “Me.”
Spike grinned. “Twisting my arm, love.”
I didn’t bother to reply with words. Then, he submitted to my ministrations.
30. The night of the reduced Lupron and reluctant consumption of beignets
“What in the world are you doing?”
“Nnnya!” I made a face at Spike who was watching me from the end of our bed. I was flopped back, sucking in my stomach. “What does it look like I’m doing?” I grumped. “Trying to put on my jeans!”
He came around the side of the bed and perched near my head, his hands in his lap and a very big smirk on his face – a smirk I wanted to wipe right off. “Poor pet. You never had this trouble before. Aren’t they the jeans you wore a few days ago?”
I glared. “Don’t ‘poor pet’ me! And yes, they’re the same jeans!” I pulled in my stomach again and tugged at the zipper but hopefully not enough to rip it. Damned Slayer strength.
Spike reached over and patted my still tanned but swollen stomach. “Did you dry them?” He frowned and looked thoughtful. “Did I dry them?” He’d done the laundry last. Sometimes he’d forget and would over dry loads to get out the wrinkles.
“No!” I pushed his hand away. “And this was the only pair that still fit. Boyfriend jeans are baggy. They should fit!” I wrinkled my nose and tried again in vain to make the denim close around my hips and stomach. I gave a mighty huff and sat up into a cross-legged position, tugging my shirt over the stupid non-zipping jeans. “I think it’s the Lupron shots. I just eat salad, and I gain five pounds.”
“Is that the drug that – ”
“Makes your body not ovulate and makes you gain weight by looking at food. None of my pants fit. I can’t wait to stop it.” Twelve days of sub-q Lupron shots were kicking my butt. So much for the relaxation I felt during and after our trip to Mexico. All non-stress-y-ness was long gone.
Spike put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a side hug. “At least you go down to a smaller dose tonight, eh, love?”
“Right and start jamming estrogen pills up my vagina twice a day.” This also made me grumpy. I was dreading the blue discharge I’d read about online and the start of endless days of panty liners. I was also going to start Minivelle patches (generic Vivelle that the insurance would cover) and aspirin.
He kissed the top of my head. “You got this, Buffy.”
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have your hormones all out of whack.” Despite my disgruntlement, I leaned into him, borrowing his strength.
He stroked my hair with patience. “You’re right. I don’t. And you’re beautiful even though your pants don’t fit. Red will be here soon. Didn’t you say something about promising her beignets?”
Willow had flown in to distract me prior to the trip to Denver for transfer. “Yeah.”
“So, put on a dress of some sort. I’ll head to work early and drop you off at the Quarter. Have your beignets.” He pulled back and started to massage my shoulders, his fingers deft as always. “Don’t worry so much about your clothes. You can always buy new ones. Don’t you birds like to go shopping?”
Groaning, I closed my eyes as he worked a particularly tough knot out around the base of my neck. “I love you.”
The doorbell rang, and my eyes flew open. Willow was here!
Spike stood before I could. He raised his eyebrows, his blue eyes wide and stern. “Relax. Get ready. I can entertain the witch for a few.”
I smiled at him in gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Welcome.” He strode out of the room, softly shutting one door to open another.
Hurrying, I sloughed off the jeans and my blouse and opened the closet. Rifling through my dresses, I mused that in New Orleans in November, I could wear a sundress, but I’d be packing sweaters and a coat for our trip to Denver on the 8th. There was a chance of snow. Choosing the light blue swing dress, I slipped the fabric over my head, appreciating the freedom that rejecting the jeans gave me as I donned my sandals. Then, I hurried into the bathroom where I ran a brush through my hair and finished my makeup with a light lip gloss.
Willow jumped up from the sofa when I practically ran into the living room, and we were hugging before we even said hello. She smelled of strawberries and a scent that was distinctly my friend. I felt young again just being around her, and feelings associated with the excitement, terror, and exhaustion of tackling a new big bad at the Hellmouth flooded my mind. Goosebumps flew over my arms, and for a fleeting moment, I asked myself why Spike and I had chosen semi-retirement and the time for just us. I missed my friends; I missed my Willow. If I was honest, I missed the rush of being at the forefront of the battle between good and evil.
As I drew back, I beamed at her. “You look exactly the same.”
She fluffed her scarlet hair with the palm of one hand. “Waves and long. A little different?”
Willow hadn’t worn her hair at that length since high school. The layers made the cut more sophisticated. “A little.”
Then, I noticed Oz leaning against the wall near the door. As he raised his hand in casual greeting, I bounced on the balls of my feet and embraced him with similar enthusiasm. He was warm and friendly as always. Hugging myself as I drew away, I studied him. “Same chill guy. Different hair.”
Oz’s hair was red with bleached blonde spiky tips, and he dressed much the same way he always did in jeans, a band tee, and jacket. There was the subtlest shift in his face, and one corner of his mouth barely went up. That was all the indication that I had that he was confused by my comment.
“Last time it was blue,” I explained.
His eyes widened just slightly. “Oh. Yeah. Hope it’s okay that I tagged along. Never been to the Big Easy. Heard they have quite the music scene. Plus, any town that’s called the Big Easy sounds like my kind of place.”
“Totally fine.” I was hoping for some girl time, but I hadn’t seen Oz in person since Sunnydale – since he broke Willow’s heart and then she broke his.
Spike spoke from his recliner. “If it’s all good with you, pet, the wolf is coming with me to Spotted Cat. Thought he’d appreciate Alex’s prowess with the liquor bottle and the chance to head to Blue Nile to take a gander at the Ruffins bloke.”
I seriously loved Spike sometimes. . . make that all the time. “After dropping us off at Café du Monde?”
His eyes twinkled at me, and he stuck a thumb in his jeans pocket. “After.”
Twenty minutes later, Willow and I were situated at a little table in the famous beignet café, and the first question my best friend asked was, “Who’s Alex?” The worried line between her wide eyes was clear as day.
I waved a dismissive hand at her. “Oh, she’s way old, but she makes a mean drink. Well, one I can actually stomach.” I rolled my eyes. “Speaking of stomachs. My pants don’t fit anymore.”
The worried line was replaced by an expression of mirth. “What? Isn’t that supposed to happen after you get pregnant?”
“You’d think! The hormones are doing a number on my body. Hence, the sundress.” I gestured at my dress.
“Amazing how all the little systems in our body work together.” Willow picked up the napkin box to read the café menu. “Cute dress though.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I really took the bodily systems working together for granted before.” I pointed at the menu. “Not much to choose from, but get three and not six. It’s a lot.”
“But I’m starved!” Willow protested.
“Trust me. We’re getting dinner soon. You want the three.”
“All with the trust-age here. Three beignets. Got it.”
“And a large frozen café au lait,” I insisted. The cold ones were the best for providing a little oasis in the heat.
“That’s like a lot of caffeine, right?”
What was the deal with the caffeine police? First the clinic, then Spike, and now Willow. “All the better to stay up all night with you. We have to have energy to power through dinner at the Gumbo Shop later and the walk up and down Bourbon. Then, we’ll head to Frenchman to find our guys.”
“Got it.” Willow nodded and gave a little salute like she understood the mission.
After the waitress came and took our order, I asked, “How are things in Virginia?”
“Oz and I decided to move in together,” my friend burst out, grinning in excitement.
I couldn’t help but match her joy with my own grin. “You’ve been wanting to say that this whole time, huh?”
Willow nodded. “Uh huh. I feel all grown up. Living together. Paying our own way.” She meant not mooching off me like in Sunnydale. “And to be honest, I’m not that sad to leave behind Cleveland. There’s just so much more for me where Oz is.”
“Does it feel serendipitous that it’s all just – ”
“Falling into place?” She folded her forearms together and leaned on the table, sighing with happiness. “Totally.”
A little jealousy rolled through my belly. The feeling was irrational because Willow hadn’t had it easy, but the easiness she was feeling now made me question what Spike and I were doing. What were we doing trying to have a child in such a convoluted way?
Willow gave me side eye. “Where’d you go in your head?”
When I opened my mouth, the words tumbled out with a clarity that I didn’t realize I had to my thoughts, “Sometimes I wonder if Spike and I should be doing this.”
“I thought you really wanted it.”
I sighed. “Most of the time I do, but sometimes. . . sometimes I don’t know at all why I even brought it up with him in the first place. I mean, what was I thinking? A vampire and a Slayer having a kid?” I whispered the last question.
Willow was quiet for a long moment. Then, she put her hand on top of mine. “I think it’s totally normal to feel that way. There’s anxiety about doing something new, especially when there are unknowns.”
My eyes widened in agreement. “Lots of unknowns.”
“And said unknowns could lean toward badness.” Willow’s fingers went to her bottom lip.
My anxiety ratcheted up from twenty to a hundred, and I pushed my chair back without realizing it, metal legs scraping against the concrete, sugar-covered floor.
Willow blinked as if she was lost in her own personal fears, and she quickly amended, “Or goodness.”
“It’s just that a lot has been good, so I’m sorta expecting the badness.” I started pulling flimsy napkins out of the holder and putting them in neat piles. Beignets were covered in powdered sugar which was sticky when wet. Napkins-at-the-ready were of the good.
Willow emulated me only with the other side of the napkin dispenser. “We’re sorta used to badness when we have something good, huh?”
“Uh huh. Just when things fall into place. . .”
“Bam!” My gloom-and-doom was contagious because now Willow looked all wilt-y.
At that moment, the waitress delivered the beignets, hot and sweet, and our focus shifted completely to the pastries and coffee. Willow let out a moan of ecstasy as she bit into the beignet at the top of her stack. White powder sprinkled all around her hand and onto the table. Spillage was inevitable, but it didn’t mean that there wasn’t still a lot of good. I eagerly dug into my own pastries, the sugar exploding with overwhelming sweetness over my tongue and the dough melting in my mouth as it only did when the fried dough was piping hot.
Willow took a sip of her café au lait. “Oh, sugar overload. How I’ve missed you.” She took another sip and turned back to her beignet. “Sometimes the ‘bam’ is just what you need.”
My friend was right. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Smiling around the cheek full of food, Willow covered her mouth. “Me, too.”
“Girl time is so much better in person. Thank you for coming.”
“It’s a big thing you’re going through.” Willow’s shoulder lifted. “Besides, I needed it, too.”