I was awoken the next morning by a screeching banshee. Yep, Angela – as I guessed we were calling her from now on – decided to start crying at six in the morning. Though, the worst part was that the moron hadn't brought around the diaper bag, so now I had neither diapers nor bottles. After checking her diaper, finding it dry and clean, I realised that she must be hungry, especially as her 'Daddy' didn't feed her last night. Listening to her cry furiously, I decided that there was no chance I was going to be able to get back to sleep. I threw back my covers and forced myself out of bed. Placing Angela on my hip, I began to pace the room, bouncing her slightly, in hope to settle her down. Just as I was about to throw her out of the window, my Mom's head peered around the door.
'I thought Angel had the doll,' she mumbled sleepily.
'He decided he needed sleep more than me,' I said.
Mom nodded, yawning slightly. She stepped back out of the door and closed it behind her.
I lay Angela on my bed, dropping the quilt over her to muffle out her cries, and went to the bathroom. I spent longer than usual in the bathroom; washing my face at least six times, brushing my teeth for almost ten minutes non-stop. Eventually I couldn't find another reason to spend so much time in here. I rinsed my mouth and left the bathroom, wishing that I had never fallen for Angel's irritating puppy dog eyes. I made a mental note to poke him in his eye when I saw him.
'Buffy, why is my vase broke?' Mom shouted up the stairs.
Shit.
'What vase?' I called back.
I heard her mutter something and I knew I was off the hook.
I rushed back into my room, slamming the door, before she could ask me any other questions. Angela's cries were still muffled by the pillow, yet still loud enough for me to hear. I grabbed a brush and ran it through my hair whilst I searched my wardrobe. I wanted to be as quick as possible – I didn't know how long I could cope with the annoying sound. Pulling out a pair of skinny jeans and a tank top, I threw the brush onto my bed, barely missing Angela, and stripped off.
After getting dressed, and still being tortured by the insane screeching sound coming from a stupid piece of metal, I pulled on my sneakers, grabbed Angela from up the duvet, and ran from the room. I took two steps at a time on the way down, rocking Angela furiously in my arms. I headed towards the door, deciding to go and retrieve the baby's things so I could shut her up, when Mom called me from in the kitchen. Glancing between the door and where I had heard her voice, I sighed and slumped off towards the kitchen. There was no point making a run for it, she would probably chase after me.
'Yes?' I asked.
I clutched the baby harder in my arms, wishing that it would break, and offered a small smile at Mom, who looked slightly confused. I looked down at the table and noticed every box and packets of biscuits we owned were empty. What the …
'Angel,' I hissed.
Mom didn't seem to hear me.
'Why have all the biscuits disappeared?' she asked.
I needed an excuse. And quick. I decided to pull an 'Angel' and say the first thing that comes to my mind.
'Racoon,' I answered.
Mom cocked her head at me, her head slightly cocked to the side. 'Racoon?' she repeated.
'Erm,' I rocked the baby as I looked around. My eyes fell upon the cat flap. 'The cat flap! The racoon came through the cat flap, ate all the biscuits AND broke your vase!'
Wow. I thought up of that fast. I had to say that I was pretty damn proud of myself. Yet, when I looked back at Mom, she didn't seem to be buying it.
'Why would a racoon get up on the counter, open the cupboard and then make the effort to put all the packets/boxes on the table? And then leave not a single crumb behind-'
'Got to go! Motherhood is calling me!' I interrupted.
I ran quickly out of the kitchen, the baby's cries echoing around the silent house, and headed straight for the door. Once I was out of the house, I slowed my pace to a walk. Thankfully, Mom didn't come out and drag my sorry arse back inside. Without even knocking, I walked in. I knew Tara and Wesley would be at work, yet even if they were in then they wouldn't mind me just waltzing in.
I walked through the sitting room, heading towards the stairs, when I noticed Angel lay across the sofa, already dressed, and laughing his head off at some cartoon on the television. At the sound of Angela's cries, he spun around a little too quickly – resulting in him falling off the sofa.
'What the hell, Buffy? Don't you knock?' he shouted, jumping back on his feet.
I scoffed. 'Says the person who waltzed into my home at something in the morning! Oh yeah, and the same person who broke a vase and ate all the biscuits! And, by the way, if you don't want someone just walking in – lock the door.'
Angel blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. 'You found out about the biscuits then?'
Was this guy for real? I mean, sure, I understand if he hid the boxes, but he left them RIGHT THERE on the top of the table. If my hands weren't busy rocking a crying ogre, then I would have slapped myself on the forehead.
'Anyway, what do you want?' asked Angel, lying back down on the sofa.
'Oh, I forgot the screeching baby in my arms wouldn't be obvious enough!'
I rolled my eyes, dying to just throw the baby at his thick head and run for it. Angel's eyes flashed to Angela and he chuckled, rising to his feet. Laughing would only make it worse. He ran upstairs - sounding like a baby elephant might I add - before returning a few moments later with the diaper bag. I guess he was clever than he looked. He passed me the bag, giving me a quick smile and his puppy dog eyes, before returning to the sofa.
I followed him, throwing his feet off so I could sit down, and took a seat, dropping the baby on his stomach whilst I found the bottle. Angel groaned. Picking up the robot baby gingerly, he began to bounce her. I pulled out of the bottle, dropping the bag off the floor, and returned Angela back on my lap. I forced the nip of the bottle in its mouth, laying her in my arms.
'You look good doing that, Buff,' chuckled Angel.
'Don't laugh, buddy boy, it's your turn tonight. I don't care if you don't get your beauty sleep – kiss my arse,' I said, showing how serious I was on my face.
Angel must have noticed that I was serious because he gulped. 'Now, now, Buff Buff – let's not doing anything rash.'
He slowly sat up, raising his hands in a defensive pose, and flashed me a nervous smile. It was quite amusing to see how scared he looked just at the thought of taking care of a baby – a ROBOTIC baby – for one night. I wondered how he would react if I told him he had to look after a real baby.
'Do you want me to tell Darla where you live?' I asked.
I praised myself. The horror on his face was enough to know that he had caved – that I had won! Angel would definitely be looking after the baby tonight.
'Fine,' agreed Angel, running his fingers through his brown hair. 'You have her tomorrow, then we'll both stay at mine with the gang on Friday – Mum and Dad are out of town.'
'Agreed,' I smiled.
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After feeding the two babies – it turned out Angel hadn't had any breakfast – we loaded up into the car. Angela sat on my knee, giggling like an actual baby, with her diaper bag shoved between my legs. Angel drove slowly to school, explaining that he wasn't in such a rush to get there.
'You know what the best part is about having you as a partner?' I asked, looking at him.
'What?' he smirked cockily.
'I was hoping you could tell me – I've got nothing,' I grinned.
Angel's smile dropped into a frown. He pulled up besides Faith's car. I jumped out of the car, grabbing the diaper bag, and slamming the door shut. Angel got out, locking the car, before following me towards registration.
'I hate you,' muttered Angel.
'Good,' I smiled.
What a happy pair we were.
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Authors Note:
Thanks so much for all the reviews! I'm glad you find it funny – cause when I re-read it, I just don't. Haha. Hope you like this chapter. Lots of love, Beth x
