Title: The Surrogate 14/19
Author: Jacqui
Rating: G.
Disclaimer: Buffy, Giles and all other assorted Buffy candies belong to Joss Whedon, WB and ME. Elizabeth, and everything from her world, belongs to me (the real me, not the ‘grr aargh’ ME).I’m not a doctor, I’ve probably got this all wrong, but read it anyway.
Notes: To all those lovely people who accused me of being very cruel to Buffy, kidnapping her on her wedding night, just as Willow was about to put the whammy on the bond… erm… I have nothing much to say except, VERY many apologies for this next bit… [grin]… you may want to close your eyes, I’ll tell you when it’s over.
Dedication: This part goes out to Jay, my faithful feed backer who, in parts long ago, made me eager to get here with the subtle reminder "Hey, isn’t one of your characters supposed to be birthin’ a baby sometime soon?"

Feedback: Give me a happy. wily_one24@yahoo.com.au

He stumbled and swore under his breath. There was no way to know how long he had been out, but looking at the moon told him it couldn’t have been long. It must have been his imagination, but Giles could swear he still smelled the exhaust of the limo as it had driven off.

There was gravel inside his shoes, biting at his feet, there was a lump at the back of his skull and his head was more than a little clouded, but Giles walked on, wiping grit and blood from his face with the handkerchief from his pocket as he tried to swallow his blinding anger and panic.

Only one thought bounced through his brain, ricocheting off one jagged edge and pounding into another. Buffy. He had to find her. There was no question as to who had her, that was obvious, but he had to find out where they were. He had to get back to Sunnydale, get the group together and into action. Get Elizabeth to reach out and…

"Oh, dear lord, no!"

Giles nearly fell over, his breath leaving him. As he stood up, his hands dropped his handkerchief and he broke into a desperate run. He had to stop Willow before she performed that spell.

* * * *

Joyce watched the small squares of light as they danced across the floor, slow and lonely, twirling into each other, flowing together and running apart. She sighed, then hiccuped, then giggled. Speaking to no one in particular, she raised her near empty glass and kicked her heels off.

"I think I’m slightly drunk."

The tiny lights of the mirror ball weren’t unnoticed by any one else. Across the table Elizabeth stared at the floor, musing over the suspiciously light feeling that had fallen over her. Willow had warned her that the preparation for the spell had begun and she’d start feeling the effects. It was almost like being drunk, only much more lonely. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to depend upon Buffy.

"Gee, Mrs. Summers, ya think?" Xander picked up an unlit candle and pointed at her.

"Hush, young pup, I may be elder, but I’m still your drunk!"

"That you are." Cordy smiled sweetly, her eyes innocently wide.

They all tried to stifle their giggles. Cordy, Elizabeth and Tara were a lot more successful than Anya, Willow or Xander, whose strained chokes managed to gain raised eyebrows from Joyce.

"Here, Joyce, drink some of this."

Wesley appeared out of nowhere, passing a warm mug to Joyce before settling back into his chair next to Cordy. A silence descended on the group and they all stared at the table, littered with the remains of the night. Half full glasses and scrunched up napkins sat amongst long forgotten plates with traces of sticky icing. In front of Willow and Tara, a space had been cleared, a pentagram drawn with a shaky hand and herbs dotted the bases of several candles. One of which had somehow become a make shift light saber.

Willow sighed and took the candle from Xander, giving him a mock glare as she did so.

Her eyes were bright with humor as she smiled over at Tara. Somehow, somewhere, while they were planning the present for Buffy and Giles, Willow had found something in Tara she hadn’t even noticed was missing until she had it back. Tara was such a good friend, so easily in tune, that Willow felt immediately comfortable with her. And then, at times, every now and again, a strange feeling would descend over them. Had she been forced to describe it, Willow would have had to call it flirting, foreplay even. The thought thrilled her.

"I think it’s time."

Willow lit a match, the latin phrasing coursing through her brain before it ever reached her lips. She could see Tara’s eyes flicker back and forth and knew she, too, was going over the words in her head. A feeling of warmth spread through her and she breathed in, ready to whisper the words.

"Stop!"

In the now deserted gallery, the loud voice echoed over the floorboards and bounced off the walls. They turned as one to see Giles burst through the doors, bloody, dirty and ragged. The flame flickered once in Willow’s fingers before blowing out.

* * * *

Candles. She could smell candles and the distinct mark of magic. Buffy twitched her nose, stretching her neck out as she did so, flexing the muscles in her shoulders. Suddenly, she stopped, her eyes flicked open. A cold sliver of ice ran down her spine.

She was lying on a sofa, covered by a blanket. Though her mind was slightly blurred, though she knew it would pass quickly and a sharp clarity would invade her. For some reason, she was reluctant to move, to stand up, even though she knew she should.

The room in front of her was dark, the only light coming from the candles set in a pentagram drawn on the floor with colored chalk powder. It gave the illusion that the walls were undulating, rolling in and out. In the middle of the pentagram knelt a shirtless figure, bent over an open book. The skin of his back was marked with paint.

"Ethan?"

He spun around in surprise, his eyes wide, but warm.

"Ah, Buffy. So nice of you to join me. I was rather hoping you’d wake soon, I do need you to complete the casting."

Her eyes flickered from him to the markings on the floor.

"What is this, Ethan? What are you…?" Her voice trailed off as her mind told her that she knew those markings, that she knew what he was doing. Panic set in. "Ethan, no. You can’t."

"It won’t take long, Buffy, I promise."

He seemed oblivious to her growing discomfit.

"I won’t let you do this! You can’t…" She tried to will herself to sit up, stand, beat him to a mass of writhing nerves, anything. "Ethan, what have you done? Why can’t I move?"

"Nothing serious, my dear, you don’t think I’d just let you have carte blanche of this little operation, do you? I’m not that stupid."

She stopped struggling and gave him a withering glare.

"Don’t be so sure."

He chuckled. Then he turned back to the open book. Buffy’s muscles tightened. She had to keep him from finishing.

"You won’t get away with this, you know. They’ll come after us, Giles will… Oh my god, Giles!"

Ethan, who had been ignoring her words, jumped with the ferocity in her voice.

"What the hell did you do to Giles? Is he okay? If he’s hurt, Ethan, I swear to god…"

"Relax, Ripper is perfectly fine. Probably a bit sore and sorry for himself and, granted I think, right at this very moment angrily searching for us both."

She didn’t know whether to trust him, but something inside of her, something buried deep, needed to. She needed to believe that Giles was okay and if that meant trusting Ethan, then there was nothing she could do about it.

"I pity you, Ethan. Sometimes I even envy you, your lack of emotion, your ethical freedom, but mostly I pity you."

He turned to look at her, the flash of anger in his eyes immediately cooled to a look of sorrow. For an instant, Buffy could have sworn he’d been hurt by her words. Instead of standing up to come to her, Ethan let his hands fall to the floorboards, his upper body following, then he crawled over to her, almost stalking her.

"I’m not a bad man, Buffy. I may be morally suspect, but I’m not bad. Why can’t people see that?"

"Perhaps because you keep them hostage whilst performing possibly dangerous spells against their will?" Buffy felt uncomfortable, with the way he was kneeling at her side, with the way he was looking at her, like a little puppy dog, starved for attention. It made her defensive. "It could be the way you tattoo them with a demon’s very own calling card, or the way you use cursed candy to feed their babies to a big snake. Should I keep going?"

"No." He sighed. "But I’m trying to change. Don’t I deserve a second chance?"

Buffy raised her eyebrows pointedly, using her eyes to gesture to her current position, the look in her eyes clearly said ‘no’. That, or ‘you must think I’m on crack if you expect me to believe this’.

"This isn’t a bad thing, Buffy, this is my wedding present to you and Rupert."

"We don’t want it, thank you anyway. What happened to good old toasters? A nice dinner setting?"

"We? Are you sure?" Ethan leaned in close to whisper to her. "Do you really think Rupert wants to watch you sacrifice yourself like this? Do you honestly think he wouldn’t give up everything else if it made sure you lived?"

Buffy didn’t have anything to say to this. She knew he was right. No matter what Giles said, from the beginning Buffy had known where he’d stood on this issue, only allowing himself to be swayed by her own demands.

"But, the baby…"

"This isn’t about the baby! This is about you surviving the next two weeks! Buffy, you’re going to kill yourself for the sake of this damned baby!"

They were both breathing hard, their eyes set into stubborn glares.

"I won’t help you do this, Ethan, you have to know that."

"I don’t need your help." He was the one who looked away first. "I just need you to ‘contact’ Elizabeth and I can do the rest."

"Damn you."

* * * *

"So, this is it?"

"Yes." Giles sighed as he looked around the hotel room. There were several signs of recent living, but it was obviously deserted. "This is the room where Ethan was staying."

Willow and Cordy stepped over to the bedroom and began looking through drawers and closets, Xander made his way to the mini kitchen. Giles stood still where he was, a few steps inside the door, lost and not knowing what to do. He felt ungrounded, as if he might float away any minute. His eyes desperately searched out Elizabeth, hanging far back.

"Can you feel her yet?"

"No." Elizabeth shook her head, shyly now, unsure of herself.

"I don’t understand it, if Willow didn’t complete the spell…"

"I keep reaching, but it’s like she’s not there. Once, I thought I felt her, but it was like she was running away, like she didn’t want me there. I don’t know…"

The way his shoulders sagged made Elizabeth feel guilty. She didn’t want to be the one telling him they had no clues.

"Woah!" Xander looked up from the open fridge door. In one hand he held a bag of dark crimson blood. "Can I just say, ewww?"

"I second that." Cordy stood at the doorway with chains in her hand.

"Of course," Giles spoke absently. "He must have kept Spike here."

"Welcome to the Hotel California." Xander dropped the packet of blood back into the fridge and slowly closed the door. "No clues here."

"I…" Elizabeth paled. "I think I need to sit down."

* * * *

He could enter a stage of peace, the sort of tranquility needed to make a casting of this magnitude, the sort that blocks out all alien influences and leaves one with nothing but themselves, at least, he could if it weren’t for the constant interruption coming from the sofa.

"Ethan! You can’t do this!"

"Damn it, Buffy, be quiet!"

"Yeah, sure, anything else while I’m at it?" She couldn’t keep the venom out of her voice. "I swear, this time you’ve gone too far, I’m going to beat you so senseless…"

"That’s it!"

This time Ethan did stand up, he swung around to glare at her and Buffy felt true fear for the first time. The look in his eyes was pure anger. She could do nothing as he took step after step, her body tingled with the need to get away, she tried to shuffle backwards, anything.

"Ethan, wait! Please!"

He didn’t even pause before pulling the blanket off. It took seconds of shock before Buffy noticed the feel of cool air on her skin, she looked down in horror at the robe she now wore. The feel of his arms lifting her up barely broke through.

"You undressed me?"

He felt her shiver with anger as he carried her.

"Relax, pet, a wedding dress is hardly the most appropriate clothing for what I had planned. Don’t worry, your underthings are perfectly intact."

"I am so going to kill you."

The direction they were taking was not lost on Buffy and Ethan felt her stiffen as they crossed the doorway into the bedroom, despite the anger she was throwing at him, she was deathly afraid. He gave a self satisfied chuckle.

"Will you get over yourself?"

He tossed her onto the bed and ignored the indignant glares she was giving him. It made it easier to ignore the streaks of tears that began to roll down her cheeks. If anything could have been done differently, anything at all, he would have done it.

"When I leave this room, my thrall over you will end, so…" He shrugged carelessly, then managed to produce handcuffs and dangle them in front of her. "I honestly can’t trust you to just sit here and I don’t really want to beaten bloody tonight."

Buffy wanted to scream, she wanted to move, anything. Anything at all, besides lying there like a limp rag doll as he manipulated her limbs so that he could chain her to the bed. Shame, strong and pungent, pierced her. Elizabeth and the baby were in danger and she couldn’t do a damn thing.

She could hear the door close and then suddenly feeling rushed to consume her, entering her body like a flash flood, it almost felt good. Then, all at once, Buffy’s eyes went wide.

Ethan stood on the other side of the door, resting his head, his fingers tracing a slight pattern on the wood. He had expected her cries of rage, her voice hoarse with the abuse she would yell at him, he expected her anger, he would have been foolish not to, but the sound from another room is always easier to ignore.

What Ethan had not expected, was the raw, primal scream that escaped her now. He blinked and tried to block it out.

* * * *

"I don’t… I don’t know."

Willow whispered her worry into the huddle. They all sighed with defeat, none of them knew what to do. There was no trace of Ethan past this hotel room, no trace of Buffy, Elizabeth was having no luck establishing the bond. The feeling of helplessness was inescapable. They turned their heads to look at the two figures sitting on the sofa.

Giles sat with his head in his hands, the cuffs of his shirt rolled over his forearms, his jacket, torn and soiled, had long since been discarded. Next to him, Elizabeth rested back on her elbows, her stomach awkwardly jutting out in front of her. Her face seemed dazed, confused and just the slightest bit annoyed.

"Try again."

She was about to protest, a cutting remark on her tongue, when she looked over and saw the desperation in his eyes as they pleaded with her. The raw honesty in his face convinced her and she closed her eyes.

Across the room, Cordy, Xander, Anya and Willow could barely watch. They knew what was coming. Giles would stare intensely as Elizabeth would close her eyes, they both seemed to be straining, as if sheer effort could will the bond to work.

The more they tried, the harder it was for Elizabeth to look into Giles’ eyes and shake her head.

"She’s not there. It’s like she’s pushing me away."

"I can’t just sit here!" Giles stood up, his face red and angry. The room seemed to shrink suddenly, as if he’d taken on a presence. He turned in a large circle, facing each and every person in the room. "There has to be someone who knows something. Someone who saw something. If only we can think."

As if waiting to be released from the tension of silence, the group flew into action, the noise awakening with their movements to get out of the room. They rushed to the door, speaking at once, tossing their collective thoughts at each other and testing their validity. At first, no one heard Elizabeth call out.

Then she raised her voice.

"Guys? Hey guys?! My water just broke!"

* * * *

He closed his eyes and tried not to listen to her pleas for help, but there was something wrong. Ethan didn’t know what it was, but it was making him nervous, the way she kept screaming as if she were in pain, as if there was something in the room with her, as if she were truly scared. His eyes flickered to the closed doorway and then down to the charms on the floor.

"I conjure thee…"

A loud crash made him stop and look up again.

"I’m not listening, Buffy!" He hoped she hadn’t heard the shaking of his voice.

"Ethan?"

Her voice sounded too close, too weak and it surprised him.

She was standing in the open doorway. No, she wasn’t standing at all. She was leaning heavily on the frame, as if she couldn’t stand up by herself. One arm hung, loose and dead, by her side and the handcuffs dangled from her other arm.

"Ethan?" She was so quiet, it was almost whispering. Her one working hand shook as she held it out to him. "Help me?"

He didn’t know what she meant, until he followed her gaze down and saw the blood as it flowed down her legs.

"I think I need…" She paused, breathed and then looked at him again. "… the hospital."

If he had paused one second longer in rushing to her, he wouldn’t have caught her as she fell to the floor.

* * * *

Peace. For the first time that night, Stacey Beldam managed to sit at her desk, in the dimly lit office, and close her ears to the sound of cries and pleas, machines beeping, managed to block out of her mind the image of flowing blood and torn skin, of steel threading the edges of skin together, the thick smell of antiseptic and sick bodies.

A deliciously thick exhaustion descended upon her. Her shift was nearly over and she welcomed the thought of her comfortable bed, a mug of strong coffee and a plate of toast. Small, simple comforts were her luxury.

Her hands crept up into her hair, firmly massaging the back of her head and neck as her eyes were irresistibly drawn to the file on her desk. Research. It called to her, soft and wheedling. She’d known from the start, even though they’d told her to forget it, that Elizabeth and Buffy would make an interesting case and all that she’d learned in the last couple of months had done nothing but convince her further.

It was all there, she knew, the most likely outcome. All her research, done in her own private hours, culminated in the one growing file. What she needed to do, now, was show her findings to the girls, explain to them the most likely consequences and how to make the birth easier on them both. She had two weeks to broach the subject.

At least, she thought she did.

"Dr. Beldam!"

The voice broke through her reverie, slamming into her awareness as the door to the office was thrown open, blinding light searing her eyes and loud sounds assaulting her ears all at once. She winced, then turned to face the owner of the interruption, a young intern who was nothing if not eager to please.

"What is it, Tony?"

"She’s here!"

"Who?" The question was spoken calmly and patiently, showing none of the irritation that plagued her, or the slight tingle of premonition as her fingers hovered over the file, her nails dancing in the air.

"Elizabeth Giles, she’s in labor!"

* * * *

Elizabeth breathed deeply, looking wide eyed from one face to the other. They looked just as puzzled as she felt. There was no way she could be in labor, at least, that was what she was telling herself. Granted, her water broke, but she felt no pain, no contractions. There was nothing that the books or even the movies had told her she should suspect.

The frustration that was building up in Giles was reaching critical point. Added to his near debilitating worry over Buffy, was Elizabeth now in a non existent labor that no one could explain. Behind him, he could feel the energy of Xander and Willow, pacing and whispering, filling out forms, creating a hum that succeeded in further frustrating him. He was glad that Cordelia and Anya had gone to pick up Joyce.

"Mr. Giles? Elizabeth? What’s going on?" Stacey stopped in her tracks when they all turned towards her, pulsing forward as one, Elizabeth stepping up out of the wheelchair, as if she could help them all. "I hear you’re in labor."

"Uh, well, we believe so."

She gave Giles an amused, sympathetic look.

"Just relax, it’s normal to be this nervous." Ignoring the protest he was about to make, Stacey turned to face Elizabeth. "So tell me, just how far apart are the contractions?"

"Well, you see," Elizabeth smiled whimsically. "we don’t know, exactly. I haven’t really felt any."

"Uh huh." Stacey smiled indulgently, she’d seen this before, when expecting couples came rushing into the hospital at the first sign of heartburn or hiccups, demanding epidurals and forceps. "What makes you think you’re in labor?"

"Hey!" Xander stepped forward, defending Elizabeth gallantly. "It just so happens her water broke!"

"Really?" Her interest was caught once more. "Did the mucus plug show at all?"

"Oh ew!" Xander stepped back, his arms up in the air. "Not listening now. Who needs to hear that?!"

"Yesterday." Elizabeth nodded.

"Yesterday?" Giles echoed her statement. "It showed yesterday and you didn’t tell us because?"

"I didn’t want to spoil the ceremony, it can show up to weeks beforehand and I felt okay."

"She’s right." Stacey nodded, thinking to herself, then seemed to make up her mind. "Let’s get you upstairs."

"Um, excuse me," Willow handed the filled out forms to the desk and tentatively broke in to the conversation. "but what’s a mucus plug?"

"La la la! Still not listening!" Xander began to hum, loudly.

"Where’s Buffy? Is she getting the bags?"

They all looked down, guilty, not meeting her gaze.

"Ah, see, that’s another thing." Giles coughed. "We don’t know that, either."

Stacey’s face paled visibly.

* * * *

Pain. Excruciating pain, the likes of which she had never before experienced, girdled her waist, making her want to push down, force it out of her like a physical being. Buffy only hoped that Elizabeth, whatever she was going through, wasn’t in too much trouble.

Her mind wandered in and out of clarity, spending large chunks of time being unable to formulate any thoughts beyond the feeling of agony. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, watching the myriad of colored lights fly past the car window, vaguely aware of doing the same thing the night she and Giles had become engaged.

"Buffy?" The frantic whisper came from beside her. "Are you okay? Buffy?"

"Shut." She hissed her breath between her teeth. "The hell. Up."

Then she closed her eyes, trying to block him out as she leaned her face against the coolness of the window.

"Why won’t you let Elizabeth take some of the pain, Buffy? Why are you doing this to yourself?"

The only response he got was her jagged breaths, the slight wheezing of her airways. His ears picked up the fact that her breaths were becoming shorter, shallower, more regular.

Ethan took his eyes off the road long enough to glance at her. In direct contrast to the assurance he was looking for, seeing her figure, drained and seemingly boneless, pale and fading fast, only seemed to make the panic ride him harder.

His hand left the wheel and gently stroked her cheek.

* * * *

"What the hell are they?"

Willow looked wide eyed at the large metal protuberances at the end of the bed, her face pale.

"They’re the stirrups." Elizabeth spoke softly, she was confused. A large part of her was diving deeper and deeper into panic and worry for Buffy, but an equally large part was soaring high with the excitement of the coming hours.

"La, la." Xander pressed his hands back to his ears. "LAAAAAAAAA!"

"Hmm," Giles stood with his back to the room, staring out the window at the cement car pack. "Nice view."

"It’s not the coziest of places, but try and make yourselves comfortable, you could be here for hours." Stacey wheeled in a trolley which contained a machine with many wires and attachments, which she assured them all was a fetal monitor, and began to apply them to Elizabeth’s belly.

"Just a question," Xander avoided looking at the stomach, or the skin, or any place even remotely close to where Elizabeth lay on the bed closest to the window. "but are you expecting anyone else to join us tonight? I mean, is that bed taken? ‘Cause I haven’t had a chance to sleep yet and…"

"Xander!" Willow punched him on the arm.

"Actually, I put you in here for a specific purpose." Stacey looked at Giles. "I believe Buffy will need that bed very soon."

"Uh, Dr. Beldam? Maybe we can talk." Giles ushered her out of the room.

* * * *

"What do you mean Buffy will need that bed? Do you know something? Has something happened?" Giles didn’t realize how hard he’d been pressing Stacey’s elbow, until she winced and pried his fingers off.

"Calm down, look, I know you told me not to, but I’ve been paying special attention to the girls and my research has led me to some conclusions."

"Conclusions? What? I…"

"The twinning syndrome, I believe…"

"Look," Giles broke in, impatient. "I don’t have time for this, we don’t have time for this, Buffy could be…"

"Hey!" Stacey brought her hands up sharply, her voice just loud enough to catch his attention. "You make time! This is serious. In cases such as these, where one twin has given birth, the other twin has felt it, but there’s never been a case like this before. Elizabeth and Buffy are so far progressed into their shared consciousness, that there may be very little difference in their body’s reaction to the birth."

"The fact that Elizabeth is feeling virtually nothing, makes me suspect Buffy is shouldering a lot of that. We need to get her in here now."

"I don’t understand."

"Buffy’s body has tricked itself into thinking it’s pregnant, now it’s tricked itself into thinking it’s giving birth."

"And?"

Stacey sighed, breathed in and then looked him in the eye.

"There’s nothing in Buffy’s womb to expel during birth, but Buffy’s body doesn’t know that."

The implications sank heavily and fast and Giles thought he might collapse, his chest imploding. He couldn’t lose her, not now, not after all they’d been through, how far they’d come. It started deep in the pit of his stomach, boiling up, stretching its fingers to the very edges of his skin until he thought he would scream, a strange mix of anger and frustration, panic and hopelessness, desperation.

As suddenly as it had risen, it left him, shaking and broken, he had to lean against the wall. When he spoke, his head hanging low between his arms, his hands holding his weight, his voice was desperate.

"Please, doctor, we have to find her."

"I know." It sounded hollow, even to her, but she had no idea what to say. The powerful surge of grief always left her feeling emotionally and sympathetically crippled, unable to offer the support necessary in her line of work. So Stacey did as she always did, blocked off her feelings and went on with business.

"I’ve already set a watch downstairs, if she shows up in emergency, she’ll be sent up straight away. If she turns up at any other hospital nearby, we’ll be contacted at once."

Giles could only nod.

* * * *

The slow and rhythmic beating of the fetal monitor was interrupted by increasing moments of rapidity. Moments that made her heart ache as her eyes bored into the spiking display on the screen, her hands cupping her belly through the wires. She desperately wanted to feel the pain, the action, the anything.

"Where are you Buffy?" She whispered through her tears. "Why don’t you answer?"

"I’m telling you, it’s that one over there!"

Elizabeth turned her gaze to Willow and Xander standing by the window.

"Xander, that’s not even the right car park! Giles’ car is parked on the other side of the building."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Guys?"

They whipped around as one, guilty looks on their faces.

"We’ll be good!"

Elizabeth smiled and reached out a hand, she didn’t have to wait long before Xander had grasped it, pulling up a chair and planting himself directly in her line of vision. She could feel Willow moving about the room and knew in moments that a glass of water would be offered her.

"I’m scared, guys, I don’t know what’s going to happen, to me, to Buffy, anything."

"It’ll be okay, Elizabeth, it’ll be okay."

Xander only wished he believed his words as much as Elizabeth seemed to do. Drawing their entwined hands close, she gave a small attempt at a smile before closing her eyes. In the relative freedom from her gaze, Xander looked over at Willow and saw his own fears echoed there.

"What if it’s not, Xand? What if it’s not okay?"

A lesser man may have been fooled by the blank, stubborn set of her jaw, but Xander knew the energy she was using to keep the tears at bay. He knew how scared she was, how absolutely terrified of the whole thing she was. He knew, because he felt it, too.

"Giles’ll make it all better, Will, he has to."

Neither of them, with their heads leaning in close over a seemingly still Elizabeth, heard the door open, nor did they hear the footsteps draw closer. Yet neither of them, in their confusion and worry, were at all surprised when Joyce stepped in, brushing a lock of hair from the woman’s face.

"Poor baby." The words had barely left Joyce’s lips when Elizabeth opened her eyes.

Anya came in to stand behind Xander, placing her arms around his neck, Cordelia standing near Willow. Nobody said anything. This was the scene that Giles walked into and there was no way he could escape the questioning eyes that seemed to come from all directions, nor was there any hiding the pain on his face and the defeated droop of his shoulders.

He had no choice but to tell them.

* * * *

Wesley hefted the stake into his hand, feeling the caress of the wood and welcoming it. In recent months, he had become a lot more proficient with weapons than anyone could have guessed. He did not need to look behind him, nor to either side, he knew he was alone. His greater moments of glory were always alone. Somehow, and without knowing why, he always managed to step aside, giving others their glory when they were there, leaving him to sweep up the refuse.

When he had time to think about it, Wesley regretted that Giles, Buffy and the scoobies had never seen him at his full potential, had never seen that he was a worthy ally. It was moments like these, however, that he was glad for the very same reason. They were a tightly knit, powerful unit and he no longer wanted to break into that. He just wished these times didn’t exist.

He broke down the door and strode forward without stopping until he hit the other wall. Luckily for him, he had picked up Spike along the way and Spike had cushioned the impact. His stake had not wavered once on its path to the spot just above Spike’s heart, maybe pressing a little deeper than strictly necessary.

"Wesley?"

He didn’t respond, pressing his face right up to Spike’s and letting his lip curl up into a snarl. If he even heard Angel, he gave no sign.

"Wesley!"

"Ho! Watcher got a spine?" The shaking belied Spike’s belligerence. "Back off Angel, let’s hear what mini-Giles has to say, eh?"

"Where is she?" Wesley hissed between his teeth. "Where the hell did he take her?"

"Whoa! Back off, Shinin’ Knight." Spike tried to push Wesley off him, his eyebrows shot up when he realized that the watcher could not be budged, unless it was to move forward, pressing ever deeper with the stake. "Who he, who her? I got no friggin’ clue."

Angel looked on with a sinking realization.

"He got her, didn’t he?"

Wesley nodded without taking his eyes off Spike. He did not miss the sudden jerk of surprise.

"You mean Black Magic Man got the Slayer? That could spell trouble."

"Now you listen to...!"

Wesley’s outburst was cut short when he felt Angel’s hands on his shoulders, pulling him back and away. Before he could protest, he saw Angel take his place, much more menacingly, complete with game face and a growl.

"Where is she?"

"I told you, I dunno! I swear it."

"For your sake, Mate," Wesley put a heavy sarcastic accent on the word, over Angel’s shoulder. "I hope we never find out otherwise."

They both left Spike, Angel dropping him like a sack to the floor, sweeping out of the mansion. Men on a mission.

* * * *

Her womb was eating itself, Buffy was sure of it. She could feel the sharp grinding of teeth, the tearing of her insides. At this point, Buffy was ready to beg for pain relieving drugs. Underneath it all, she was vaguely aware of the cease of the car’s movement, the dipping and rising of the car body and the opening of her door.

"Come on, Buffy." The arms that unclipped her belt and slid underneath her were gentle, soft, almost caring. She wouldn’t have recognized them had it not been for the voice that accompanied them. "We’re here."

He lifted her, shouldering her weight, pausing only for a second when she hissed in pain, the sound slicking into him. It seemed he was moving too slowly, that the hospital doors were too far away and he’d never reach them.

"Somebody help us!"

His voice sounded strange, even to him, loud, strained and out of control, hoarse with panic. So unlike his usual constraint, his control and ever present patience.

From out of nowhere, a stretcher was rushed to them, doctors and nurses talking all at once, asking them questions, wanting to know. His head was a blur, everything seemed to speed up all at once, as if they’d been moving in slow motion and someone had just pressed the fast forward button.

As he lowered Buffy on to the bed, surrendering her to the countless hands that began to examine, he was vaguely aware of the question ‘is this her?’ whispered to someone next to him. All he felt was Buffy’s arms, previously hanging lump around his neck, slip away and at the last moment, holding on and drawing him down with her.

"Ethan?" He leaned in closer. "The spell, Ethan?"

He closed his eyes before opening them and looking directly at her.

"It’s done. If you contact her, now, you’ll both be gone."

Buffy closed her eyes and did not open them again, she let go, letting herself fall softly.

"Get away from me." The words were cold and whispered. "And don’t ever come back."

"Buffy?" But she refused to answer. "Buffy?"

"Excuse me, Sir." One of the doctors shouldered him out of the way, her voice cold and harsh. "We need to work here, I’ll have to ask you to leave."

He couldn’t move, could not take one more step, as he stood still and watched them roll away, a crowd of rush and noise and commotion. He stood there, suddenly cold, the walls rushing in on him, not wanting to move, covered with Buffy’s blood.

* * * *

"Just a little bit longer."

Elizabeth let her head fall back, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She was grateful for the soft, repetitive strokes of Joyce’s fingers through her hair, the gentle assurances that things would be okay. It was a double edged soothe, though, because every time Joyce touched her, she ached for the identical touch of her own mother. Elizabeth nodded to the shape of Dr. Beldam between her legs.

"Things are getting exciting down here."

Not even the forced enthusiasm of the doctor could boost her spirits. Elizabeth turned her head to the side, focusing on the fourth and last person in the room now, Giles, who paced by the window. His features, achingly burned into her brain, were creased with worry, with everything that was happening, with everything that might still happen.

She was caught, suddenly, by a wave of resentment, a bitter, aching hatred that he was here, to witness what she and Rupert had fought so hard for, that Buffy would feel what she never would. It was over almost as soon as it came, leaving behind it a slow, hungry need. A need for Buffy.

The monitor began to speed up.

"You may want to push right about now."

She looked at Stacey.

"Push? Against what?"

A loud, urgent beeping at Stacey’s waist made them all look up, holding their breaths in anticipation. Giles could barely stop himself jumping forward as he silently asked the question. Stacey paled as she read the coded display. When she looked up, she nodded slowly.

"They’re bringing Buffy up now."

* * * *

"I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with ‘c’."

"Chair."

"Yes!"

"Xander, you’ve used chair for the last half hour."

"Do you see anything else in this hallway?"

Willow glared at him, only half meaning it, she was still very grateful that he’d stopped tapping out the "Star Spangled Banner" with his fingertips.

"Will?"

"Chair! For crying out…"

"No." His voice was quiet now, serious, and she stopped to look at him. "What do you think will happen?"

"I don’t know." She sighed a heavy sigh, trying to block out all the images her mind had been trying to send her. "I only wish we knew where Buffy was."

As if on cue, that very moment, ten feet away, the elevator door opened and the previously abandoned hallway, marked only by the intermittent passage of staff in and out of Elizabeth’s room, was suddenly filled with people, noise and machines. In the midst of which, the hub of all the commotion, was a bed, from which a terrifyingly weak, but instantly recognizable, voice could be heard, refusing any drugs, demanding to stay awake and conscious, no matter what.

Before either could ask a question, or even think to ask, the doctors had sped Buffy into the room and closed the doors. Like an apparition, the noise and commotion died with pictures, and Willow and Xander were left, in silence, to wonder whether they had seen anything at all.

Xander looked at Willow.

"What?" She shrugged, dazed. "That wasn’t me."

"Just in case, wanna wish for a happy ending while you’re at it?"

"We should call An and the others, tell them to stop looking."

Xander looked at the door, closed and shut off, then down the hallway to the phones, internally arguing whether it was worth it to leave his post. He knew that they had to tell others what was going on, that Anya and Cordy, having joined up with Angel and Wesley, would want to be here now.

"Okay."

* * * *

"Giles!"

The cry, low and deep, sounded louder to him that anything, but he welcomed it with the warmest flow of relief he had ever felt. He knew there had been other times when he had feared for her life, but he could not think of one right then, all he knew was that she was there and she was calling for him.

Without him even knowing how, his muscles grouped and propelled him towards her, his hand reaching out before him, grasping hers. The sight of the blood soaked sheets rocked him, her pale, pain filled face made him shudder, but he was aware only of the feel of her skin in his hand. Bringing her hand up to his lips, at the same time bringing his head down to meet hers, he kissed her fingers, breathing in her scent.

He was kneeling by the bed, ignoring the people that moved around him, wanting only to be with her, in her, of her.

"Oh god, Buffy, thank god, thank god."

"Elizabeth!" A voice shouted from seemingly far away. "Push!"

At the same moment, Buffy’s face clouded, creasing up and her grip on Giles’ hand grew almost unbearable.

"Buffy!" Another voice sounded. "Don’t push! Stop!"

"I can’t!" Tears flowed from her eyes and she looked to Giles for help. "It’s there, I have to!"

"You have to stop it."

She looked down her body to see the form of Stacy Beldham, angled in between doctors she’d never seen before, or couldn’t remember if she had. Her face was encouraging, nodding to her, but Buffy could see the underlying stress, the worry. It wasn’t helping.

"You can do it, Buffy," Giles whispered into her ear, squeezing her fingers, caressing her cheek with his own.

Across the room, Elizabeth was crying as she felt herself being torn in all different directions. She wanted to do what they said, she wanted to jump off the table and run to Buffy, she wanted to tell Joyce to go to her daughter, she wanted to tell Joyce never to move, she just wanted it all to be over.

"It’s okay, sweetie," Joyce murmured in her ear, "they’re okay. You concentrate on yourself."

"Buffy?" She managed to whisper.

Joyce struggled to see anything between the group of white gowned people that surrounded her and Elizabeth and the white gowned people that surrounded Buffy and Giles.

"They’re okay." And even softer, so that no one heard. "I hope."

* * * *

He paced the room like a trapped animal. Like? Angel was a trapped animal. He cursed the walls, the apartment, the sun. He’d had to stay here, in Giles’ apartment, whilst they all went to the hospital. It was a tenuous control he had over his game face, barely managing to contain the growls as he replayed the call over and over in his head, hearing Willow’s voice telling him that Buffy was there, but that they weren’t out of danger yet. So many things could go wrong.

Wesley and Cordelia had to physically restrain him from leaving with them. Though he was grateful to them, at the time he had come close to actually harming them to get them out of his way. Strangely enough, it was Anya who had gotten him to see reason, with her usual tactless, but strangely precise observations.

He wanted to do something. He needed to do something. He spotted the telephone.

"Hello?" Crackled the receiver. "Willy’s Place."

* * * *

"Hey."

In a brief moment of respite, when there was blessedly little pain, Buffy let her head rest on the pillow, turned sideways so that she could see across to Elizabeth. A lot of things were held in that gaze, slightly glassy and glazed. Elizabeth smiled back, softly, ruefully. Between the two of them, it was a moment of peace, neither heard the beeping of machines, the hurried words of medical staff.

"Why?" Elizabeth didn’t need to say any more.

Buffy shook her head.

"Baby, I’m here."

"I know, Mom, it’s okay, you stay with Elizabeth, Giles is here with me."

Joyce had to stop herself from grimacing. It was an internal debate within her, this aching need to go to Buffy and the knowledge that it was Giles who would do so from now on. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of there not being a now on. Her gaze wandered to the doctor at the end of Buffy’s bed. He didn’t look any calmer than when they’d first come in. None of them did. She missed the scrunching of Buffy’s face once again.

"Buffy!" Elizabeth called over the sudden rush. "Let me take it away!"

"No!" Buffy squeezed the words out between her teeth, trying hard not to give in to her body’s urgent need to expel something. She could feel Giles’ question before he had time to ask it. "The spell. Ethan did the spell!"

He blinked at her.

"All he needs is for me to contact Elizabeth and it’s all over. Not until the baby’s born! No!"

Realization dawned and a redness rose from Giles’ neck to his face, behind his ears and into his hair. Buffy could see the anger radiating off him, knew it as the same as her own. Lifting one hand, she ran the back of her fingers down his cheek, savoring the feel of his heat.

"There’s the head!"

Stacey’s excited voice carried across the room.

"Come on, Elizabeth, push!"

* * * *

The hallway outside the hospital room had seemed crowded and beyond endurable when it had just been Willow and Xander. Now, with Cordy, Anya and Wesley as well, it was pure torture. They refused to go down the hall to the actual waiting room, which held a TV, couches and other things that might take their mind off of what was happening.

Just when they had managed to distract each other from going too crazy, someone would exit the room carrying piles of bloody clothing, returning with a trolley of more machinery, calling someone over the PA from the nurses’ station. The last time this happened, Cordy managed to grab someone by the elbow.

"What’s happening?"

"The head’s crowning!"

And then he was gone.

"Crowning? What’s crowning?" Anya looked very interested.

Wesley and Xander both found that the floor tiles became extremely interesting. Cordy and Willow looked at each other and sighed. Willow whispered into Anya’s ear. Her eyes grew wide.

"Ow!"

* * * *

"Okay, that’s it, Elizabeth, you can rest now."

The moment she heard those words, Elizabeth let her body go limp, falling onto the bed, her sweat straggled hair in her eyes, she didn’t care. Letting her head fall sideways, she looked over to Buffy and saw that she, too, had gone limp, but Buffy wasn’t looking at her. She and Giles and, Elizabeth noted, everyone in the room, seemed to be looking at Stacey. Then it occurred to her.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

"Please." She whispered the words to the ceiling, straining to feel Joyce’s fingers, now motionless, on her forehead. "Please no."

* * * *

Buffy could feel herself draining away, felt a great pull to go under. Her eyes wanted to close and she struggled to keep breathing. Her whole body was cold. Before she gave in, however, she had to know. The whole room was silent.

They waited.

The cry came, weak at first, then stronger, long and loud. It seemed that everyone in the room had been holding their breaths and exhaled in the same instant. Buffy blinked, she could feel her whole body, tired, exhausted and drained, gathering enough energy to cry. The tears welled up reflexively.

"She’s beautiful, Elizabeth, you did a great job."

Stacey’s only answer was a sob as she lay the squirming bundle in Elizabeth’s arms.

"Giles." Elizabeth called him over, light shining from her face. "Take her to Buffy."

Elizabeth looked at her daughter, her eyes drinking in every feature, every wrinkle, every perfectly formed eye lash, the angry pink of her cheek, the map of mucus and blood that webbed her face. She was the most beautiful thing Elizabeth had ever seen.

With every muscle in him trembling, Giles held the tiny child. Not even five steps, from Elizabeth to Buffy, and they were the most important of his life. Two tiny little eyes blinked and he could have sworn they were Buffy’s, he saw a furrow in the middle of her forehead that he remembered on his grandmother.

"Look at her, Buffy." His throat swelled and he couldn’t hide the awe in his voice. "Just look at her."

"I am." She whispered, reaching out and tracing a feathery light path down the baby’s face. "She’s beautiful. And so very angry."

She laughed, breathlessly, smiling up at Giles. As soon as he smiled down at her, Buffy closed her eyes.

"We’re losing blood pressure here!"

An alarm sounded. Giles watched as Buffy’s hand slipped from the baby’s face and fell down beside the bed, rocking slightly back and forth.

"Buffy?" He sounded so lost and confused.

"Move aside Mr. Giles." Stacey gently pulled him back, before rushing in. "We need room to work."

"Buffy?" Giles felt Joyce come up behind him, he let her draw the baby out of his arms. "Buffy!"

"We’re losing this one, too!"

Giles and Joyce turned around as one to look at a listless Elizabeth.

* * * *

"It’s a girl," Michael Stuart never tired of this part of the job, watching the people’s faces as he made his announcements. Five faces looked up at him, some tear streaked, all pale and taut with worry. Understandable, considering the nature of this case. "She’s made it through beautifully."

"She’s okay?" Willow stood up. "They’re all okay?"

"Code Blue!" The PA system crackled to life, loud and strident. "Code Blue."

Before their eyes had time to fully widen, their mouths to fall open in shock, the door to the room flew open.

"Michael! We need you in here, now!"

* * * *

Buffy walked in a large purple cloud, it was a pale purple that felt quite cool. She felt exceedingly weightless, as if she were made of nothing but air. There was something she should be doing, she could feel it, but she didn’t know what. It just felt so good to be here, light and airy, she laughed, taking pleasure in the rush of air into her lungs.

In the distance, she could see a figure, it seemed familiar to her.

"Hello?"

"Buffy?" Impossibly fast, the figure moved to stand next to Buffy, as if it had flown. She recognized it immediately as Elizabeth. All her memories came rushing back to her, hitting her like a truck, she doubled over with the force of it. "What’s happening, Buffy?"

"The division, it’s happening. Ethan’s spell is working. Watch."

Even as she spoke, Buffy could see the cloud of purple that surrounded them both squeeze in at the middle. Slowly, but surely, the cloud divided itself into two, one side that held Buffy, the other that held Elizabeth.

"I don’t like this, Buffy, I can’t feel you anymore."

"That’s the whole point, isn’t it?"

"Stop it, I want us to have this, I want it to last."

"It can’t be stopped, Elizabeth. This is goodbye."

"Goodbye? Buffy?"

The smallest area of the two clouds was touching, the only connection between the two girls. With barely a sound, the connection flickered and faltered, then severed. Elizabeth felt a great, irresistible pulling and could no longer stay with Buffy. She felt herself being drawn backwards, away, and watched as the figure of Buffy grew smaller and smaller.

* * * *

Elizabeth sat straight up in the bed.

"She’s back!"

Several cheers sounded in the hospital room.

She looked over to the other bed and saw the lifeless form of Buffy, reaching out, trying to feel Buffy within, she felt nothing. Not a thing. Her head swiveled around until she saw the little bundle in a clear, glass crib, swaddled in a yellow hospital blanket and being fussed over by a nurse. Near the crib, Joyce stood with her hands over her mouth, her face white and stretched taut, she was leaning back into the arms of Giles, who looked as if he couldn’t breathe.

Somebody, she didn’t see who, didn’t really care who, began to settle her down, taking measurements of some kind, massaging her belly and talking about the afterbirth. Elizabeth didn’t take her eyes of the form on the other bed. She could feel Giles and Joyce come up beside her.

Stacey turned around to face them, behind her, they could see people unplugging the machines from the walls and piling the cords up, making the bed movable.

"Who’s Buffy’s next of kin?"

Joyce took a step forward, but then stopped short of actually saying a word, she turned to look at Giles. He blinked several times before it hit him. Feeling a heavy sense of dread, he looked Stacey in the eyes and uttered the hardest words of his life.

"I am, I’m her husband."

"We need to remove her uterus and connecting organs. Do you give verbal consent?"

"A hysterectomy?"

"Mr. Giles, Buffy could die!"

In his head, Giles could hear Buffy, not more than ten minutes ago, telling him that she was no longer afraid, that she knew what birth felt like and wanted to feel it with her own child. He could hear her, time and time again in the last few months, talk about children. He felt Joyce tense and was unable to look at her, unable to look at Elizabeth. He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward.

"Do it."

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