Flesh and Blood

4

Buffy's eyes shot open. "Isobelle!" she screamed, bolting upright from the table. Willow and Dawn were on either side of her and caught the blanket before it dropped from her chest.

Around her was Willow, Dawn, Angel, and Spike. They all jumped in reaction to Buffy's sudden movement, but it was Spike who reached out and touched her first, on her shoulder, guiding her to lay back down. However, she refused to lay back. Her eyes went wide as she felt his touch, the coldness of his hand against her bare skin. She closed her eyes, as if she did not want to see what was right in front of her—as if she was protecting herself from more heartache. Buffy's shoulders started to shake as she sobbed, noticing the searing pain in her broken arm that was already set and wrapped in a makeshift cast.

"Isobelle," she repeated, this time quieter and more broken as she tried to ignore the pain in her arm. Memories came back of her and Willow's conversation. She remembered Willow mentioning Spike was alive, but of course she would not have believed it—until now, feeling his hand on her bare shoulder. And she remembered Isobelle, grown up to about six years of age, and how beautiful she was with her blue eyes; Spike's blue eyes.

Buffy's mind was racing. She didn't know what to think when she saw her baby's father standing next to her. Part of her wanted to ignore him, like his presence was a sick glamour, and he wasn't actually here. But his touch felt so real; so cold. She recalled her last moments with him inside the Sunnydale Hellmouth. She wasn't sure how long he had been back, but a part of her was angry at him, angry because she assumed the first thing Spike would want to do was find her. Evidently not.

Despite her anger, Buffy's feelings for Spike came rushing back. It almost overwhelmed her. She wanted to put her anger aside and tell him how much she loved him, but so much had changed since he died. And Isobelle; how is she supposed to tell him about Isobelle? It was almost too much to bear.

Spike looked around the room, trying to understand who Isobelle was by judging Willow's reaction. When no one batted an eye, he asked, "Isobelle?"

"The baby," Angel replied in a matter-of-fact manner, his attention unwavering from his old love. "Buffy, are you okay?"

Ignoring the vampires around her, she turned to Willow and Dawn. "Are you guys okay?" she stammered. Her mind was racing too fast to process that her two vampire lovers were together, with her, in this room. It was easier to avoid the harsh reality by focusing her attention onto her friends.

Willow chose her words carefully around the two vampires, ultimately deciding not to bring up Isobelle again just yet. "We lost quite a few people, but we'll manage. But we need you to be okay, Buffy." She took ahold of the slayer's hand to console her, careful not to jostle the casted arm too much.

"I'm okay. I just need to find her," she assured as she ran her good hand through her hair and held her head for a moment. "This is all—I can't think..."

"We'll figure it out. You just need to rest a little more," Willow said tenderly. "I have to heal your arm."

"I can't... I need to do something, I—"

Spike shushed her. His hand went from her shoulder to her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ears and ever so lightly caressing her cheek. "It's okay, luv. Just tell us what you want us to do."

Finally, Buffy locked eyes with Spike. She was still crying, tears already streaked down her face as though they were continuing from her dream. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her left eye wore a bruise. "How are you here?" she whispered, her voice airy and cracking with each word, but then looked around the room, meeting the eyes of Angel, and then Dawn, and then Willow, before staring at the broken arm that the witch was trying to heal through a form of meditation. She knew they couldn't go on without giving the vampires the full story, and she may as well get it over with. Angel would be devastated that Spike was the father. She wanted to tell each of them separately, in her own way. They were going to find out eventually, and it would be easier coming straight from her.