Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters, except perhaps for little William. The lullaby that Willow sings is called Cradle Song, by William Blake (1757-1827)
Author’s Note: This story will make positively no sense if you don’t read "Changing Sides" first. Also, as in most of my stories, I don’t really write within the normal "Buffy-verse," so you have been warned.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Part One
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All he could do was watch. Watch as the doctors tried to help. Watch as they tried to save her, and tried to coax the child, his child, from Willow’s tiny womb. Spike had once been a carefree, take-action demon. Now he was just mist in the air, a lost soul trapped in limbo, unable to make contact with the living world after he had been so harshly ripped from it. Spike could only watch as the woman he loved; tiny, innocent, beautiful Willow, was subjected to a horrible, but natural torture.
"God, make it stop!" Willow screeched, the pain of a troubled childbirth crashing over her like waves. "Please God, I’m sorry." Her voice dropped to a whisper. This change went unnoticed by the doctors, who were anxiously waiting, with forceps, to bring the child into the world. "I know what I did was wrong, but please let me live. Let my baby live. Let us have a chance." Spike smiled sadly as Willow tried to make peace and vie for her child’s life. His ghostly form could do no more than that: offer a small, sad smile which could not cross the barrier between the living and the dead. But the expression froze on Spike’s face a moment later when Willow suddenly looked straight at him.
"Spike?" Her soft brown eyes brightened, but that was partially due to the fever that gripped her. "Spike, you’re here, aren’t you? I can feel you." Her pain seemed to have been forgotten, at least for a little bit. "Spike, please answer me. I’m so alone."
During the nine lonely months of her term, Spike had often watched over her. He had witnessed the joy she felt when she learned of her pregnancy, and the betrayal that had filled her when the dearest people to her had one by one walked away. Buffy and Giles had been the first to leave. They had been called to England only a few weeks after Willow had told them about the child. The reasons had been totally real, and of great importance to Buffy’s duty as a Slayer, but the loss of her dear friend was hard on Willow, especially in such a time.
Next to leave had been Xander. His father had been transferred to Germany and the family left less than two months after Buffy and Giles. In the end Willow could not ‘fess up to her childhood friend, and he moved halfway across the world without knowing she was going to face the hardest time of her life. Xander wrote to her constantly, as did Buffy, but soon Willow had stopped answering them. She told herself she no longer had anything in common with them, as they were starting a new life and hers was slowing ending.
Then as Spike had watched in horror, Willow began battling a depression that was all- consuming. Her parents, though they accepted the fact of her pregnancy, were anything but supportive and wanted nothing to do with her, or the child. They gave her a bunch of money and set up an apartment for her in downtown Sunnydale. But the glances and whispers of her old classmates were too much to take. Willow left Sunnydale when she was six months along, and never looked back. She moved up to Seattle, Washington, where she knew absolutely no one. It wasn’t hard to get lost in a big city, and Willow did just that. Then came a day her broken soul just couldn’t deal with.
Valentine’s Day.
Willow had been dreading the day, no matter how commercialized it had become. That day there was only one thought running through her head. Willow was haunted by the loss of her love.
She was on a downward spiral to suicide. In her little apartment above the marketplace, on the fourteenth of February, Willow finally decided to take her life. She even had the razor poised over her wrist before sense kicked her, literally. Because that day was the first time she had ever felt her child move.
It was extremely abnormal for the fetus not to have done so before, as she was in her eighth month, but perhaps he had been waiting for just the right moment. The movement inside Willow’s belly was so violent that the razor blade flew from her hand and fell to the wooden floor. She had hugged her swollen stomach, crying with grief and joy. The only reason Willow had even contemplated suicide was because she had been sure the child was dead. What had began as a dark day ended as a bright new hope.
After that Willow was all right, for the most part. As her due date drew nearer, she got nervous and edgy, but there were no longer thoughts of death or suicide. Willow still cried into her pillow at night, mourning her lost love. She had no idea that Spike was always beside her on those nights, stroking her red hair with his phantom hand.
Then the day came. She went into labor rather easily, but it had taken a turn for the worse. Twenty hours of tortuous, mind-numbing pain had allowed her to sense Spike’s presence in the crowded delivery room.
"I know you’re here, Spike. Please don’t keep me in the dark." She stared at him with unseeing eyes.
Spike moved closer to Willow’s bedside, aching at the sight of her. He could tell by the doctors’ worried faces that all was not going well, and Willow was looking worse by the minute. "Hold on just a bit more, luv," he whispered, knowing his words would fall on deaf ears. Although she did not hear she seemed comforted all the same. Until one of the doctors gripped her arm tightly, and shouted her name.
"Willow, you need to push. If you don’t the baby will---"
Willow screamed at another sudden contraction and her body pushed instinctively. "Spike," she whispered pleadingly. "Make it stop." She screamed again, then felt a release. She heard the doctors sigh, then a soft cry.
"It’s a boy, Willow," the doctor proclaimed, holding the child in the air. The baby cried again, then was silent. Willow tried to sit up, to see her boy, but the doctor was blocking her view.
"Dr. Christophe, what is it? Why isn’t he crying anymore?" A nurse grabbed her and blocked her view as well.
"It’s face!" Dr. Christophe cried. "It’s so…twisted."
Willow tried to get the nurse out of the way. "Please… let me see him."
"There’s nothing wrong with the baby, Doctor," the nurse murmured. The child’s face was pink, smooth. No traces were left of the twisted vampiric face the doctor had seen for a fleeting moment. "Don’t scare her." The nurse wrapped the baby in a blanket and handed him to Willow.
He was perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, and no fangs. He was beautiful.
"If you’re here Spike, say hello to your child," she whispered softly. "I only wish that he could really meet you." The doctors and nurses looked at her oddly, but said nothing.
One of the nurses went over to Willow, to take the baby to the nursery. "What are you going to name him, sweetheart?" Willow reluctantly handed her child over, then smiled briefly and again stared sightlessly at Spike.
"William," Willow pronounced proudly. "William Alexander Rosenburg."
|
|
|
|
Rave
Barbie Girl (Becca)
biscuit07
Filmtheory (Jim)
Malice (Jess)
MebbtheScribe (MichaelB)
Reset (Allie)
Shay (Marrisa)
somnambulist29 (Shea)
Stephanie Loss
Wendyness (Wendy)
Questions?Contact Us
|
|
All stories on this site have been archived with the authors' consent. Do not copy these stories for your own uses without the express consent of the author themselves. Buffy the Vampire Slayer TM and Angel TM are © UPN, WB, Fox and its related entities. All photos on the site are © UPN, Fox, Warner Bros, and/or their respective owners. No profits are being made by use of these images.
Powered with the assitance of eFiction.
|
|
|
