The Aftertaste of Chocolate
post Band Candy
Conceiving Buffy had been a challenge. Conceiving Dawn had been a miracle. Two girls. And Joyce was eternally grateful for both of them and so sure that that was all her desolate womb could produce, so sure that her uterus had already stretched beyond its feeble limits. Which is why it was such an utter shock when the strip faded into a clearly-recognizable blue tint.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and lowered her hand. Joyce wondered how to tell her daughters that she was pregnant with Rupert Giles' child.
--
Dog Tags
A pretty dark-haired woman sat alone at the corner table in the rowdy tavern. Though she received many leers from the drunken males around her, her face remained blank as she sipped her pitcher of gin draught save the occasional sneer at the gibbering men.
The woman's companion returned swiftly, carrying her own glass of absinthe and discourteously shoving an intoxicated man out of her path. Sitting down, the two friends resumed their conversation.
"I'm not sure. I think I'll keep Anya. I've grown rather attached to it. It's simple and easily linked to my true name. What did you decide to call yourself this time?"
"I was considering Cecily."