Damage

Buffy awoke feeling groggy and achy all over. Her eyes fluttered open to blurrily see a shock of blonde hair pressed against her chest. Blinking her eyes to focus, she realized that Spike’s head was resting on her as he bent over her hospital bedside from his chair he had pulled close to the edge of the bed. Wait a minute. Hospital bed? Buffy shook her head to clear it and the memories came flooding back along with the instant realization that her stomach was more flat than it should be and she could feel a large pad pressing against her between her legs.

With dry lips, she croaked out, “My baby? Where’s my baby?”

Spike stirred and lifted his head to reveal bloodshot red rimmed eyes brought on by long hours of crying.

“Spike? Where’s the baby?” Buffy asked again.

Spike looked down and Buffy knew then and there that her life would never be the same again.

“NO!” she screamed.

“Buffy, ssshhhh, luv, it’s O.K.” Spike took her hand in his and tried to console her.

“No! I want my baby, Spike! Please Spike! Make it not true. Please God, not my baby.” Buffy sobbed.

“Buffy, I’m so sorry.” Spike started to cry again along with her.

Not knowing what to say he made a grievous mistake and said, “We can have other babies, Buffy.”

Buffy’s hand reached out and slapped him across the face hard, leaving an angry red welt in its wake.

“Not THIS baby, Spike! We can’t ever have THIS baby again. You think being able to have more babies makes this any better?” Buffy yelled.

“No. I’m sorry Buffy. I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I’m doing!” Spike raised his voice as well.

Hearing the commotion, a nurse entered the room. “Is everything alright?” she asked.

“No, I want my baby! Please, I want my…” Buffy trailed off in a sob.

Spike took the nurse aside. “Where did they take the baby?” he asked.

“He is in the morgue, Sir. They will allow you both to see him before they transport him to the funeral home. If you would like that? I can make the call now.” She said then added, “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Buffy spoke up again, “I want to see him, Spike. They can’t keep me from him.”

“Make the call.” Spike said to the nurse then to Buffy, “O.K., pet. We’ll go see him.”

Spike sat by her and stroked her hair as they waited.

Thirty minutes later the nurse brought a wheel chair for Buffy. Spike pushed her while following the nurse down to the elevator that would take them to the lower level of the hospital. When the elevator doors opened, Spike took a deep breath. He felt as if he was walking into death itself. Buffy remained eerily silent. They made their way down the corridor.

The nurse stopped at a window desk and told the attendant who they were there to see. A few minutes later, the nurse led them into a room where a hospital crib; the kind with wheels on them, like a mini incubator, was placed. Within the crib lay a small bundle.

“I’ll wait outside. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.” The nurse said before leaving the mourning couple.

Spike pushed Buffy up along side the crib. He took one look at the lifeless infant that couldn’t be more than four or so pounds, swaddled in a blanket, appearing to be asleep but undeniably with the plastic mask of death on his face. An inhuman roar escaped Spike and he swiveled on his feet, clenching his fists and walked to the far side of the room.

It was more than he could bear. Harsh sobs wracked his body even harder when he turned back towards Buffy to see her cradling the dead infant to her breast. Breasts that were leaking milk, aching for a baby to latch on to suckle that would never come. She stroked her son’s cheek and kissed his cold forehead.

“Mommy loves you William Rupert Finn.” She whispered softly.

Spike collapsed onto the floor, burying his head between his knees and grabbing his head with his hands, trying to will the pain to go away.

Sometimes the damage can never be repaired.


Joyce Summers arrived at the hospital and made her way to her daughter’s room. Buffy was sleeping so she went to the nurse’s station to see how she was doing.

“How is my girl?” Joyce asked Buffy’s nurse whom she had met previously the first time she had come, when she received the first call that Buffy had been hurt.

“Sleeping now but not so good, emotionally wise. She was up earlier and her and her husband went to say their goodbyes to the baby and she wouldn’t let him go. We had to sedate her again.” She informed Joyce.

“He isn’t her husband and where is he anyway?” Joyce said coldly.

“Umm…He left a bit ago. Maybe he went to get something to eat or a change of clothes. He has been here since they arrived.” The nurse said awkwardly sensing the uncomfortableness of the situation.

“He could have at least waited for someone else to get here instead of leaving her all alone.” Joyce scoffed and then turned away and went back to Buffy’s room.

RING! RING!

The phone at the Finn residence pierced the air bringing the slumbering figure awake.

“Bloody hell. Leave me alone!” he swore at the incessant ringing before shifting on the couch he lay upon and losing his balance and tumbling off onto the floor.

“Fuck.” He swore as he looked up at the ceiling from his position on his back on the floor. He fumbled around with his hands until he found the prize he had been looking for. He unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle up to his lips. He gulped down several swallows, finishing off the bottle and then threw it across the room where it smashed against a wall.

The phone started ringing again. He grabbed his aching head and somehow maneuvered himself up to reach up to the end table by the couch and pick up the receiver.

“What the fuck do you want?” he swore into the phone.

“Spike?” came Buffy’s timid voice.

“Hey baby.” He slurred.

“Spike? What’s going on? What are you doing?” Buffy inquired.

“I’m having a bloody party, pet. What do you think I’m doing?” Spike choked back a sob.

“Are you drunk? Oh my God. You’re drunk.” Buffy asked and answered herself.

“As a skunk, my love and on my way to getting more drunk as we speak.” Spike informed her.

Suddenly there were muffled voices and then Joyce’s voice came on the line.

“You son of a bitch! My daughter is in the hospital, hurt, because of YOU and you are out getting drunk like the worthless piece of shit I always knew you were! You stay the hell away from my daughter!” Joyce cursed him out and hung up on him.

Spike dropped the phone and starting laughing maniacally as if he were crazy before bringing himself up to his feet and stumbling over to the liquor cabinet to get another bottle.

Sometimes the damage is just too much to bear.


Buffy sat in her hospital room, tears streaming down her face as she listened to her mother yell at the man she had loved. Had? Didn’t she still love him? She felt numb inside like all her love had died when her son had died. Was she even capable of love anymore? Was her mom right? How could Spike be getting drunk while she sat there in the hospital? Didn’t he even care? Of course he cares, Buffy. Don’t be stupid, she told herself. He is hurting as much as you. But still. He should be here. I need him. He promised me. He let Drusilla kill my son. No, it wasn’t his fault. Yes it was. No. Yes. Buffy brought her hands up to her head and pressed them on the sides of her head, trying to get the thoughts to stop. Just stop! Make it stop! She started to scream as Joyce rushed to get the nurse.

Sometimes the damage can kill you inside.

Drusilla wept as the orderly closed and locked the door of her cell. The rest of her life would now be lived out at Sleepy Hills Sanitarium. Her William had finally deserted her. Miss Edith had not told her everything.

Sometimes the damage can lock you up in your own mind.

Xander and Willow drove in silence to the hospital to visit Buffy. Every time one of them would begin to speak, they would look at the other and then close their mouth.

Sometimes the damage can leave you without words.

After the nurse had given Buffy another shot, Joyce held her, hugging her, soothing her.

Sometimes, no matter how hard a parent tries, they cannot save their children from being damaged.

Spike somehow managed to get his drunken body upstairs and into what was to be his son’s nursery. He grabbed the stuffed pig that Buffy had made him get for the boy and fell to the floor, stuffed pig in one hand, bottle of tequila in the other.

The damage of losing a child can never be forgotten or diminished.

TBC in Chapter 25- Help Me to Heal

This chapter is dedicated to my 15 year old cousin who was killed in an ATV accident in August. We miss and love you Andrew.