Title: Gifts
Author: Sweetdoggie (stirling_summer@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: No permission has been granted to use the characters. They are owned by their creator, Joss Whedon, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB, and Mutant Enemy. This story is non-profit and is intended solely as entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended.
Buffy woke one morning about three months after taking Giles as her lover feeling quite ill. She managed to fight down her nausea, but really didn’t feel like getting up. When Giles tried to wake her, she simply rolled over away from him and curled into a ball. “I don’t feel good. Call in for me, would you?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel good.”
“Yes, I got that part, but what specifically seems to be the problem?” He stroked her forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“I just feel sick. I want to go back to sleep. Probably just the flu or something.”
He looked worried, but pulled the covers over her shoulders and left the room. Duly calling in for Buffy, he made her excuses and called in for himself at the same time. He wasn’t leaving her at home alone to be ill all day.
Buffy dragged herself out of bed around eleven-thirty. She looked like she had been up half the night, instead of tucked into her bed for a good twelve hours.
“Are you all right, dearest?”
“I threw up. A lot.”
“There is a flu bug going around, but I can’t remember the last time you actually caught something like that.”
“When I was seventeen and that flu thingy put me in the hospital.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Do you feel that this bout will be equally severe?”
“I’m not dizzy this time. And you said I didn’t have a fever. I mostly want to rest and drink a lot of water. I’m really thirsty.”
“Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll draw you a pitcher. I’ll bring it up to you.”
It was a sign of her illness that she didn’t even argue with him, but walked slowly back to the bed they shared.
“I should call the Council Doctor. He could be here in fifteen minutes,” Giles offered.
“No, I’m sure it’s nothing. I just want to rest for a while, OK?”
“As you wish, for now. I want you to call me if you need me, however.”
She raised a limp hand and waved at him. He brought her a glass of cool water and she drank it without stopping, handed him the empty, and flopped bonelessly down in bed again.
He brought her a light lunch an hour later and she managed to eat most of it, but fell asleep again before she finished. She woke mid-afternoon and told him she felt fine, sort of lost-weekend-y but other than that, fine. He watched her carefully but she seemed to be all right so he let her have a normal supper. He made tea after, and they sat on the couch sipping it. Buffy took a deep sniff of the aroma.
“How come this smells so good tonight? Is this a new blend?”
“No, same thing we’ve been drinking for ages.”
“Huh. You must have made it particularly well, then, because it’s really great.”
“I’ve often found drinking tea settles one's stomach after you have been ill. Perhaps that’s it.”
“Perhaps,” she nodded. Finishing her cup, she put it down on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. Before he could offer a comment, she had dropped into a deep sleep.
Dawn came in from the kitchen and looked at her sister. “What’s wrong with her, Giles? Is she really sick?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps she’s just been working too hard. You know how grieved she has been since…since she heard the news.”
“Yeah. But I’ve never seen her just drop off like this, even when she was patrolling on double shifts when Faith was bad.”
“If she isn’t better by tomorrow, I shall insist that the Doctor pay a visit.”
Dawn nodded. “Good. We can’t take chances with her now.”
“Quite right.” He bent over and picked Buffy up in his arms. “She’s still too thin for her height.”
“She doesn’t eat much. She hasn’t since Willow raised her.”
“You and I shall work on that,” he confirmed with a sharp nod of his own.
“Do you think she still remembers…Heaven?”
“I don’t know. She never talks about that time to me.”
“Not with me, either. She won’t even discuss that year. It’s like it never happened.”
“Perhaps it is simply too painful for her to recall those times.”
Dawn nodded. “It was Hell for all of us.”
He carried Buffy to their room and tucked her into bed, deeply concerned about her well-being. He was calling the doctor tomorrow, regardless.
They slept together all that night with Rupert cradling her, but Buffy barely moved. He rose at eight the next morning and woke her as he was getting out of bed.
Seeing that she was awake, he asked her how she felt. “I don’t know. I guess I’m OK.”
He nodded. “I’m calling the Council doctor this morning. I’m not taking any chances with you, love.”
“I’m really OK, Rupert.”
“Then you have nothing to fear from the doctor.”
“It’s unnecessary.”
“No, it isn’t, if only for my peace of mind. You’re worrying your sister, as well.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right! Nag!”
“Better to be a nag and to have the security of knowing you are all right.”
She sighed. “Sorry. I’m just feeling cranky, I guess.”
He insisted she stay in bed until the doctor had cleared her so she lay back and went to sleep again. Giles found her behavior extremely worrying. It wasn't like Buffy to sleep this much, or to tamely take his orders to stay in bed.
Dr. Haviland came thirty minutes later. He asked Buffy some questions, took urine and blood samples, looked at her tongue and pressed lightly on her tummy. He stepped into the bathroom and performed a simple test. He wasn't surprised when the stick in his hand turned blue. He came out of the bathroom smiling. “Well, Buffy, I think I found out what's wrong with you.”
“What is it, because I'm so ready to be over it.” She reclined against a mound of pillows Giles had set up for her.
He chuckled. “Well, that isn't going to happen for at least six more months. You're pregnant. About three months along as far as I can tell with just this bit of an exam. You'll have to come into the office for a more thorough workup later.”
“What! I can't be pregnant!”
“You are having sexual relations?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And were any of those times unprotected?”
Buffy paled. “All of them. I just never thought...” She paused to regroup her thoughts. “My last relationship was with a guy who couldn't have kids...we never needed to take precautions. It just never occurred to me, I guess.”
“Well, congratulations anyway.”
“Right.” She sounded as dazed as she felt. “Don't tell Giles. I want to tell him myself.”
“Of course!” He wrote out something on a slip of paper. “Here are some prescriptions for prenatal vitamins. You'll need extra minerals to keep the baby healthy. Do you know you're the first Slayer to get pregnant?”
She looked up at that. “I can't be. Robin Woods' mom was a Slayer.”
“I've studied his case. She gave birth while still a potential. She was called fairly late.”
“So, what does that mean? For me and the baby? Will it be a Slayer too?”
“We'll have to wait and see. Don't worry about it. Rupert Giles is a good man and his genetic makeup is excellent. Your child should be very intelligent.”
“Uh huh.” Buffy was shell shocked. All she wanted was for the doctor to be gone so she could think about this.
“Shall I send Mr. Giles in?”
Buffy looked up. “Uh, tell him I'm going to sleep for a while, would you? I want to do this just right.”
He smiled benevolently. “Of course.”
Buffy lay back on the bed. Of all the things she didn't want in her life, a baby probably ranked within the top three, being topped only by another vampire lover and possibly an apocalypse. She didn't want to be responsible for another life, another hostage to fate. What if something kidnapped or killed her child? What if it was a girl and a Slayer? What if it became ill with some horrible disease? Other thoughts rampaged through her poor brain. Giles would probably want to get married. She wasn't sure she wanted to be married. It wasn't that she didn't love him; once again it was the pressure of offering another temptation to Fate. A husband and a child—she could be robbed of both so very easily. The possibilities made her ill.