FF: Fever Chapter three

["Christeen Demons" <Shyfox30@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

This is your flight instructor warning you to fasten your seat belts. We 
have picked up some turbulance and the ride is going to get very bumpy from 
here. I repeat, Fasten your safty belts...I wouldn't want anyone suing me 
for concussion. I do hope you continue to enjoy the rest of your flight. 
Thank you.

Disclaimer: Joss owns them, I don't. For Full disclaimer please see 
chapter one.

Thanks goes to Mad hamlet for being a wonderful coach, coaxing me through 
this very difficult chapter.:-) I couldn't have done it without you.BG


Chapter three: Waking to fire

Gone, the voice that used to fill the room is all but gone.
An echo of a perfect love that ended wrong.
Girl, we tried so hard when love was on our side.
And yesterday will always be the reason why you keep coming,
You keep coming back. You keep coming back for more.

I'll see you in my dreams.
Where we'll be safe tonight.
> From the lonely days of memories
I'll see you in my dreams.

Time, time will never be a freind of mine again.
It tries to make your memory fade, but I won't let it end.
Let the sun go down so I can drift away.
Let me close my eyes and live another day.
You keep coming, you keep coming back.
You keep coming back for more.

I'll see you in my dreams.
Where we'll be safe tonight.
> From the lonely days of memories
I'll see you in my dreams.

Back in my arms again.
And no matter what tomorrow brings,
I'll see you in my dreams.

Giant I'll see you in my dreams

Buffy stared, unmoving at the double doors standing at the end of the hall. 
The maternity ward was through those double doors. Easy to open, well oiled, 
double doors. A toddler could push them open. But to her, they were as thick 
and strong as the great wall of China.

Her hands trembled at her sides as she fought with herself, part wanting to 
stay here forever, part of her forcing her inexorably forward. Why was she 
so reluctant to go through? Was it because..maybe..that..if she didn't she 
could keep on denying what had
happened? That..Willow had not sucumbed to the illness during the 
ceasearean. That...everything was..and could still be..'fine'. She closed 
her eyes as tears burnt around the edges, determined to leak through, even 
as she was just as adamant that they remain in place.

No. She was strong, she was the slayer...she could push her way through the 
double doors. She had to. So she did.

Buffy flung the doors open hard enough to crack the plaster bumbers that 
were supposed to keep them from hitting the walls.

With a confidant and easy step she moved down the hallway of the ward, 
ignoring the pastel colors, the marble black and white tiling. The 
occasional page for some doctor so and so to go to such and such a place.

It was a very long hallway. It seemed like it took her an eternity for her 
to reach the end of it but finally she was...There.

Her...no..their..no..her..Willow was gone. Buffy was all that was left. It 
was her daughter now. Just hers. Again, the tears threatened, and again, she 
forced them back through shear force of will. She couldn't cry now. She 
didn't have time. Her child needed her. She was premature after all and the 
doctors had that..cautious tone of voice when
describing her condition. The one they used when they didn't really believe 
everything would be alright themselves.

She pushed aside a plastic curtain. The rattling of it's hooks as it slid on 
the bar seemed very loud, echoing nagingly in her ears.

The hum of the machine forcing air into a small plastic cubicle was also 
loud. The beeping, hissing and thrumbing of various machines seemed to 
assault her. But they were really assaulting the tiny figure under the 
blaket in the incubator.

Buffy..couldn't see her clearly. The blanket obscured too much. What the 
blanket didn't cover a maze of tubes and wires covered the rest.

Her feet wouldn't move. She tried to make them move, but they seemed to be 
stuck like glue to the floor. It took a second. Finally..a step..was taken. 
Then another. Her confidance, her false bravado long cast away. It wasn't 
possible anymore.

She moved around the incubator. She just wanted to see her face. Her 
daughters face. To see into her eyes. To..hopefully see Willow's eyes in 
their daughters. Something to link Willow with Buffy still, even though, in 
flesh, she had passed on.

Buffy Rosenberg-Summers, in the Maternity Ward of Sunnydale Medical 
Hospital, came face to face with her daughter for the very first time.

And threw up.

*****

"Buffy..." She heard her voice being called, as if from across a vast 
distance, and she whimpered, still so tightly wrapped up in her misery that 
she didn't want to answer it. Wishing that reality would just go away and 
leave her alone. "Buffy, come on." The voice was more familiar, and she 
recognized it as belonging to her mother. Opening her
eyes she blinked into her mother's concerned face, trying to wash her misery 
back into her subconscious. Her heart beating rapidly she turned and looked 
into Willow's beautiful face. Still unconscious from her fever, she had 
never looked more beautiful to Buffy's eyes.

"Oh god...it was just a dream." The tears she had refused to shed in the 
dream leaked from her eyes now as she buried her head against Willow's leg.

"Buffy?" Joyce was really concerned now. She had come into the room to 
find Buffy sound asleep, her head resting on a small, almost microscopic 
edge of the bed that Willow wasn't using. How Buffy had managed to fall 
asleep was completely beyond her, but she supposed a person could fall 
asleep in just about any position if they'd been up long enough, which Buffy 
certainly had been. She was going to let her sleep, and just watch over 
the girls while they slept, but Buffy had started moaning, like she was 
suffering some great tragedy, and Joyce hadn't been able to stand it.

"Buffy..." Joyce murmured, brushing the strands of blonde hair out of her 
daughter's eyes gently. She knew her daughter was suffering, she just wish 
she knew how to help her.

Buffy lay still, her sobs growing more quiet as she felt her mothers 
fingertips sweeping gently over her forehead. "I'm sorry." Buffy mumbled 
finally, picking her head up to look at her mother. "It's just that Dr. 
Wiseberg told me last night that they might have to....and
it's so soon...and I dreamed that..." Joyce thought she understood what 
Buffy was saying through the half sentences that she managed to utter, and 
it nearly broke her heart. She started to reach out to her, to comfort her, 
but Buffy shrugged, getting her emotions back under control. As in the 
dream, she didn't have time to feel sorry for herself.

"Have...have you gotten in touch with Mrs. Rosenberg?" Buffy asked, not 
really caring either way...she just wanted to make conversation.

Joyce sighed as she watched Buffy's defensive walls rising into place. She 
wished she knew how to reach through them, but she'd never been able to do 
that well. Ironically, the one person who had always succeeded wasn't 
capable of doing that at the moment. "Yes.
She's going to be here in about an hour. She had a conference this morning 
which she couldn't get out of, but she said she was coming right here 
afterwards." Buffy nodded, but Joyce wasn't sure she had really heard her. 
Her eyes had never left the redhead's face.
"Are you hungry? I could get you some breakfast." She had to be hungry, 
she hadn't seen her daughter eat since...well since they had brought Willow 
in here. Buffy nodded slowly, but she didn't say anything, her eyes never 
moving from her focal point. "I'll be back."
Joyce said gently, rising from her chair. Sparing her daughter one more 
look, she slipped quietly into the hall.

Buffy gazed at the sweat beading on her wife's face, watched as it trickled 
down to wet the soft material of the pillowcase. Why did this have to 
happen? Buffy wasn't even sure who she was asking, God, fate, destiny. It 
didn't matter. Part of her ravaged heart wished that
this had never happened. That part of her heart that couldn't help blaming 
herself. If Willow had never become pregnant, if they had never gotten 
together, this wouldn't be happening.

Running a still trembling hand over her wife's sweaty forehead, she closed 
her eyes and remembered...

She was warm, safe, sated, and for the first time in her life that she could 
remember, at least since she had become the Slayer, she was truly happy. 
Gazing into equally sated green eyes, she released a hum of satisfaction. 
Gentle fingers had caressed her cheek, and an unrepentent smile had 
responded instantly.

"Are you happy?" A husky voice had asked, green eyes inquiring softly, 
though Buffy could see the warm glow that radiated from her friend, now 
recently turned lover. "I am. In fact, I'm so happy I'm giddy." The grin on 
the redhead's face was all the evidence Buffy
needed for that fact.

"Hmm." Buffy pretended to think soberly about that, for all of five 
seconds, before she saw the storm clouds starting to rise in the beautiful 
red-head's green eyes, then she let the joy creep back over her face. "I'm 
wrapped head to toe in Willow snugglies...how could I
not be?" Buffy asked, with a blissful sigh. "Why didn't we do this before? 
And don't mention Oz and Angel again...please."

"I don't know...I still wish I could remember the first time." Buffy had 
done an excellent job of showing her all over again what it had been like, 
but she still wished she could remember that first time. Her hands ran over 
Buffy's sweat covered back unceasingly, a
tactile reminder that she was here, lying on top of her, and they had 
just...just the thought of it sent tingles resurging through her 
bloodstream. "I bet we're going to make up for lost time though."

Buffy caught the renewed desire flaring in her lover's eyes. 'I think I've 
created a monster.' She thought to herself and grinned. Her pulse picked up 
as a smooth hand slid carelessly over her rear, and caused her breathing to 
hitch. "Oh yeah. I'll take that bet." She drawled, before she met her 
lovers lips and started yet another round of passionate lovemaking. Just as 
she started to sink into the heady desire, she swore that this was something 
she'd never get tired of doing.

Coming back from her reverie, she opened her eyes and looked at Willow once 
more. No, she decided thoughtfully, I really wouldn't trade any of our 
times together for anything. Even if...She blinked...she wouldn't think like 
that...couldn't think like that. Willow just
had to live...she just had to. She watched the redhead's face closely, 
looking for any sign that she would wake up, but she could see that she was 
still dreaming, the eyes moving restlessly under the closed lids...she'd 
give anything to know what she was dreaming about...she hoped they were at 
least peaceful.

*****

Willow stumbled through the door. It had been coming, it had been coming 
such a long time. She should have seen it really. 'Like mother like 
daughter' she thought bitterly. She wasn't even watching where she was 
going. Being drunk helps people forget small stuff like...the outside.

Her daughters words rang in her head over and over. 'You were never there!' 
And it was true she mused. She hadn't been. Always working, she thought she 
was doing the right thing. The 'Greater Good'. Protecting the world, 
reasearching magic, experimenting. She always figured there'd be a 'later' 
for her to correct her mistakes.

Of course, the 'Dear John' letter on the mantle, the letter written in 
Buffy's handwriting, had axed any thoughts of 'laters'. Today, or tomorrow.

'Hmm.' Willow mused, trying to remember how to lift the bottle of whiskey to 
her lips. 'Can a lesbian couple leave Dear John letters? Oh..we're not a 
couple anymore. She left. She went away. Took the kid with her. Yeah..that's 
bad.'

She stumbled into the street. Bad no longer became a factor, it became a 
feeling. A tearing, gut wrenching shriek that seemed to be real. Or was that 
the screaming brakes of the oncoming truck? Headlights cutting through the 
night. Either way, she welcomed it.

*****

"Buffy? Can I talk to you?" Buffy looked up to see Giles standing in the 
doorway, and only then did it occur to her that not only had her mother 
already brought back her breakfast, but she had eaten it without even 
noticing or tasting it.

Buffy saw the serious look on Giles face and eyed him curiously, wondering 
what could be so important that he would feel the need to talk to her about 
it now, when she was really not at her best. She hesitated, her eyes drawn 
irrevocably back to her wife. She
didn't want to leave her alone...even for a moment. But then a gasped cry 
made her look toward the doorway again, and she saw Sheila's pale, anguished 
face, staring past Giles shoulder to where Willow was lying. She had thrown 
a hand over her shaking lips, which Buffy could see working wordlessly as 
she took in the sight.

"My poor baby." She cried out finally, edging past Giles, even as he 
managed to scoot out of the way, and entering the room. "What's going on? 
How did this happen?" Buffy almost flinched at the accusing tone in the 
woman's words and eyes, and it didn't make her feel any better only to be 
able to say that she didn't know. She should know...she was
supposed to protect her...though how she was supposed to protect her from 
this...she had no idea.

"I'll uh...give you some time alone with her." Buffy suddenly felt the need 
to distance herself from the whole thing, Willow's mother's angry words, her 
prone and still wife, the way all of that made her feel, all of it. And 
talking to Giles had given her the perfect excuse. Sheila nodded at her 
distantly, but she wasn't sure she had heard her. She felt a tinge of 
regret as she watched Willow's mother take the seat by the bed, followed by 
a surge of anger...or jealousy...she wasn't sure which, as Sheila claimed 
Buffy's rightful place by Willow's bedside. She followed Giles out into the 
hall, still feeling somewhat resentful that she'd been 'forced' to leave in 
the first place and turned toward her Watcher.

"Okay, Kimosabe...where do you wanna 'talk'? We certainly can't talk out 
here." Buffy said, looking around at the buzzing activity of the hospital 
floor.

"Kimosabe?" Giles looked at her perplexed, getting derailed for a moment.

Buffy looked back at him strangely. Surely he wasn't that far out of 
touch....still. "Kimosabe...The Lone Ranger...Tonto...ring any bells."

Giles inhaled as the connection made sense. "Ah." He smiled sheepishly. 
"Right." Giles paused for a moment, then realized Buffy was staring at him 
expectantly, and somewhat impatiently. "You uh...there's a hot drink 
machine cordoned off to the rear back there. It would afford us some 
privacy, of course I can't guarantee on the quality."

Buffy glanced down the hall to where she knew a seldom used room contained 
coffee and snack machines. "Sure." Buffy shrugged, noncommitally. "Why 
not."

*****

Giles carefully put quarters in the machine, too busy pondering how to start 
this conversation to notice just what he was selecting. The liquid 
mechanically poured into the cup, and he pulled out the steaming beverage, 
handing it to the Slayer before turning around to make another selection. 
Buffy sipped on the hot beverage, absently noticing the bitter-sweet flavor 
of the coffee, but her attention was too riveted on her Watcher for her to 
really realize that she was currently breaking the 'no caffeine' pact.

Quickly growing tired of the man's reticence, Buffy broke the silence urging 
the man to speak. "So...Giles...what was so important that you had to drag 
me out here to sip a barely drinkable hot beverage?" Her impatience to get 
back to her wife was quite evident in her tone.

Giles still had his head bent, lost in thought, and Buffy had to clear her 
throat to get his attention. Then he turned to face her, and she could read 
the concern clearly written on his face. The question that he asked however 
through her into left field. "Buffy, what do you
remember of your dream the night Willow became ill?"

That night, that horrible dream came instantly, almost savagely into crystal 
clear view. She could almost still smell the brimstone and hear the achingly 
loud screams of her baby. She shuddered against the vision, wanting to purge 
it from her memory, and wondered angrily why Giles was bringing it up. "Not 
much...everything's kind of a blur really, why?"

Giles had been watching over the girl since she had been sixteen years old. 
He knew when something cut her so deep that she just couldn't hide from it, 
he knew when the terrors of the Hellmouth kept her awake at night, and he 
knew when she was lying through her teeth. "Are you sure, Buffy?" His eyes 
peirced her own with an intelligence that nobody should be allowed to have.

Buffy shrank inwardly from the tone, knowing that it indicated that he 
wasn't buying her story...not for a minute. "I really don't see why it 
matters what I was dreaming that night." Buffy said defensively.

Giles shook his head slowly. "You know the answer to that far better than I 
do."

"What are you suggesting? That it was prophetic?" Buffy's voice almost 
cracked, even though she tried very hard to sound sarcastic. "I dreamed 
that my baby was burning in the fires of hell and now it's coming true? Is 
that it Giles? Is that what you wanted to know?"
Buffy demanded, her voice low, but the venom in her voice still resounding 
in his ears.

"Then it's true." He mumbled, speaking mostly to himself, as if he had just 
confirmed something for himself.

"What are you saying?" Buffy was visable upset now, her anger starting to 
build from deep within. If Giles was even hinting what Buffy thought he was 
hinting at...no, even the thought of it made her queezy.

"I've spoken with Dr. Wiseberg. He can find no natural causes for Willow to 
be burning up the way she is. None. There is no infection...no 
disease..nothing." Buffy stared at him
bug-eyed, not quite sure what to make of what she was hearing.

"But..." Buffy's head was swimming in the implications. She kept hearing 
Giles say 'no natural causes' over and over again in her head.

"Think about Buffy...if there are no natural causes, then that means the 
cause has to be unnatural. And if it's unnatural, then it's..." Giles led 
the Slayer, like bait on a fish hook. He felt physically sick when Buffy 
opened wide and took the bait...the knowledge sinking
around her mind like the sharp bit of the hook.

"Hellmouth." Buffy whispered venomously, the word dragged physically out of 
her mouth. She felt suddenly light-headed with rage, her heart hammering 
unsteadily in her chest to compensate for her radically unregular breathing.

"Unfortunately, I can think of numerous reasons why the denizens of hell 
would want to harm or even destroy your child. This is the child of a 
Slayer. As I've said before, it's unprecedented...naturally, it would be 
feared. Who knows what a child born of a Slayer could become. And 
naturally, hurting the child would hurt you, what a perfect way to harm a 
Slayer than to go through her child." Out of all the reactions Giles had 
prepared himself for, laughter hadn't been one of them...even if that 
laughter was darkly sardonic.

"I should have known." Buffy said, shaking her head, still chuckling darkly 
to herself. A whole bottle of self-recriminations rising to the surface. 
"I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Retire, he says. You have 
new priorities, he says. Time to stop being the
Slayer and take care of your family, he says." Mostly talking to herself at 
this point, she didn't see the way Giles blanched at the way every word he 
had spoken came back to bite him hard.

"I thought I could just pick up my toys and go home. That I could just say 
Olley, olley, Oxen free, I'm not the Slayer anymore and the forces of 
darkness would just have to go away because I said so. I'm an idiot." She 
cursed herself savagely, feeling a darkness she had never felt before, not 
even when she had fought Faith, coming up to claim her.

"Buffy..." Giles spoke, trying to stem the flood somehow...he could see 
what her recriminations were doing to her psyche. The look she flashed him 
stopped all thought. This wasn't the Buffy that he knew, not anymore. It was 
like a switch had been pushed, the friendly, loving, sweet girl who 
protected others at all cost was gone. And this woman, bent only on revenge 
had been left in her place.

"No Giles. They wanted the Slayer. They've got the Slayer." She said, her 
voice calm, and cold, the only warmth coming from her was her eyes, which 
stemmed with an inner fury. "But they're not going to like the 
consequences."

All Giles could do was watch, feeling helpless as Buffy spun and left the 
room, the only remainder of the girl's presence being the coffee left 
cooling on the table and the hard slamming of the door.

*****

Sheila watched over her daughter, her feelings a jumble as she jumped 
between feeling helpless, angry at herself, regretful that she had treated 
Buffy so shamefully earlier, and shame that the only way she could be there 
for her daughter was when she was busy fighting for her life. She was still 
sweating profusely, the damp cloths and ice now placed around her doing 
nothing to help stem the fever. An IV of fluids were being pumped back into 
Willow's rapidly dehydrating body, and she had to wonder how often they were 
forced to change the bags, considering how fast Willow's body was using the 
fluid.

Her child was still caught fast in dreams, but Sheila knew that they 
couldn't be good, because Willow was constantly whimpering, murmuring soft 
'no's' and 'please's' to anyone who could hear her. She wished she could 
wake Willow up, to stop the dreams, and had tried to do so, but her efforts 
hadn't gotten her any result except for a nurse telling her that the 
patient, her own daughter couldn't be disturbed and had to rest. She 
promised she'd sit here quietly after that, although her daughters quiet 
cries rent her heart.

*****

She hadn't felt alive in five years. Five long years since Buffy had 
disappeared. Her heart still missed her, it had at one time raged against 
her absence, but she'd been really careful not to show it. Her parents had 
been there for her of course, and had comforted her as best
as they could, but they could never fill that empty spot inside, nor had 
they tried really. It hadn't taken long for them to convince her to give up 
her baby to their friends. She got postcards every once in a while from the 
little girl that used to be hers. And somewhere
deep inside, where the ache to hold her remained, she'd feel a twinge of 
forgotten emotion.

Willow herself had gone back to school. Graduated. Never met anybody. The 
question was more than enough company. Where was Buffy?

It no longer had the edge it once had. She had accepted it..she'd had to 
eventually. But she had to get away. After graduation she'd moved to LA. 
Lots of oppurtunities in LA for a programer of her calibre. So she had a 
job..and..a place to stay. She..still couldn't call it home.

'So.' She thought walking the street between work and..her place. 'Another 
day of 'not living.' She didn't notice the woman until they colided. 'Oh 
excuse me.' Willow blurted. Coming out of her stupor for the first time in 
what felt like five years.

'No worries, I'm fine.' Short blonde hair was swept back by strong hands. 
Blue eyes blazed into green.

It took her a second to realize, the memory quickly sweeping up and 
enveloping the present but then she was there, and then she was THERE and 
she couldn't resist, not for a second. 'BUFFY!' Willow shriked and dove 
into the other woman's arms.

'Wherehaveyoubeen?Whathappend? 
IshouldbeangryatyoubutI'mnotyou'realiveyou'realiveyo
u'realive! IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou!!'

Strong fingers pried her death grip away and arms forced her out at arms 
length. A confused face met her overjoyed one and the happiness withered and 
died in her chest. 'I'm very sorry.' A firm voice said. 'But I'm not who 
you're looking for. My name is Sarah.
Now if you'll excuse me.' And she was left alone, standing in the middle of 
a busy sidewalk wondering how she could have ever been so wrong.

*****
"Ooo. Did you see that one dearie? That was a good one I'm rather surprised 
she didn't break."

"Oh Mable, you're so naive." The other old woman clucked. "This darling has 
been dealing with the Hellmouth for years. It'll take more than a simple 
darkmare to crush her mind."

"Try again?"

"Yes. Let's. But first..would anyone like a fresh pot of tea?"

*****

Dr. Wiseberg entered the room and tapped his peer, who was engaged in 
discussion with a nurse, on the shoulder. "I'll need that report in an 
hour." The other man finished. "Of course, Doctor." The nurse nodded and 
huried away, her heels 'click clacking' off the hard checkboard tiles.

"You wanted to see me Doctor...?" Dr. Wiseberg trailed off.

"Doctor Murry. Yes. Willow Rosenberg is your patient?" The Doctor inquired, 
paying more attention to his chart than the man in front of him.

"I delivered her." Dr. Wiseberg replied stiffly.

"I see. Well than you're just the man I need to talk too. Follow me please." 
Dr. Murry said, and without further preamble headed down the corridor.

The two men strode briskly into a nearby labratory.

"When Ms. Rosenberg.."

"Mrs. Rosenberg-Summers." Dr. Wiseberg interupted.

"Er..yes. When Mrs. Rosenberg-Summers was admitted we did the usual battery 
of tests, these included of course blood tests, T-Cell count, heat rate..."

"Yes, yes Doctor, I'm familiar with all this, what did you want to see me 
about?" Dr. Wiseberg wasn't usually this testy but his feelings of 
helplessness in caring for his favorite patient had sent his normal social 
skills spiraling out of control.

"I'm sorry Dr. Wiseberg..but.. well..we also did a sonogram and..well..you 
should see it for yourself."

Dr. Murry flipped the switch on a VCR and the tv lit up the the usual grainy 
image, created by sound waves, of an unborn child resting in the womb.

As the tape progressed, Dr. Wiseberg's eyes grew wide and his breath caught 
in his throat. His hand, unconciously drifted up to the pen he always had 
tucked behind his ear and grabbed it, he began chewing on the end of it. 
"That's...that's not right." He finally mumbled.

"No. It doesn't appear that way." Dr. Murry confirmed. "But what we see is 
what is happening."

"But..but this is impossible." Dr. Wiseberg protested.

"Be that as it may Dr. Wiseberg." Dr. Murry replied his own ashen features 
betraying his attempts at remaining 'profesional'. "But impossible or 
not..it..it appears that Mrs. Rosenberg-Summers unborn child is screaming."

And the two men said nothing more as the video continued, the light from the 
television the only illumination in the room and on the television, a black 
and white image of a small tiny head, twisted so as to face outwards, it's 
black eyes open and it's tiny mouth open
even wider.

...to be continued.

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