Part
Two
~**~
Two
nights before Xander and I left Sunnydale, Giles called us and told us he'd
found something in the books that we needed to know about. I didn't know then
that he and Xander were already planning this whole "Thelma and Louis" getaway
for the two of us, but I'm guessing this kind of moved the timetable up a
little. We scurried on over to the shop, and were highly relieved that none of
my demon fan club seemed to be on the streets that night.
You
always know it's bad when Giles says to sit down. "Buffy, Xander," he greeted
us. "You two had better sit down." After we did, he took his glasses off and
polished them with his handkerchief – another bad sign. Once he replaced them
he breathed deeply. "I've found a prophecy about the Finality." Then he didn't
seem to have anything more to say.
The
silence hung in the air and dragged on forever. "Uh, G-man? You gonna tell us
what it was, or do we play Charades? Is it bigger than a breadbox?" Xander was
trying to joke, but I could see he was reading all of my Watcher's road signs
like I was, and they all pointed to a major wreck ahead.
"The
Finality will be a new Slayer, born of a Slayer, that will close the Hellmouth
and rid the world of demon life entirely."
Sounded
good to me. "Well, that's pretty cool. What's the prob?"
I
can still see his incredulous face. Like I'd asked if I could sleep with Angel
again, because I thought having Angelus around would liven things up a bit. "Did
you not hear what I said? A Slayer, *born* of a Slayer…"
"You
bear the Finality," Xander quoted quietly. "Buffy, are you, uhm, sick? Hungry
all the time?"
I
was starting to get the drift, and I was more than a little furious. "I am in
no WAY, SHAPE or FORM pregnant!" I screamed. "You have to sleep with *men* to
get that way, last I heard. I sleep with Mr. Gordo. He's a polyester stuffed
pig! And I have for MONTHS! Nobody – no how. Completely man-free zone since
Riley left." I slumped down in my chair. "This is ridiculous."
"Well,
she has the mood-swings thing down pat," Xander said. I hit him. Harder than I
should have. He still had that bruise a week and a half later.
"Forget
it, guys. I'm no candidate for Immaculate Conception, either. Just because I
haven't lately doesn't mean…"
"We
know, Buffy. More than we ever wanted to," Giles said in a pained voice. "I
still believe you should monitor the situation. Watch for the signs."
"You
mean, other signs besides huge orange guys telling you that you're carrying the
Savior of mankind and the end of demonkind?"
"I'm
sure that isn't what he meant, Xander," I said stubbornly.
He
shrugged, and turned to Giles, "I guess I'd better get the little mother home,"
he said, standing.
The
bruise from that kick lasted even longer than the first one did. And he limped
for days.
~**~
I
think the morning sickness started just before we left Phoenix. It came mostly
in the late afternoon, though, but I still knew what it was. Xander wasn't the
least bit surprised, or if he was, he never let me see it. He started picking
up Saltines when we went to the grocery store, because he'd heard somewhere
they helped the nausea, and that was when he really started forcing even his
food on me. He made me drink three glasses of milk a day when we weren't on the
road.
And
I did indeed have mood swings, although they weren't as bad as I think Xander
was expecting them to be. Usually, I just cried over what I'd done to him. That
I'd taken him away from his girlfriend, his good job, and now I was saddling
him with some bastard child I didn't even know how I came by. Usually, he'd get
all serious and tell me there was no one he'd rather be with than me, no place
he'd rather be than right where I was, and that the baby wasn't a bastard, because
as far as the whole world knew, we were married. Then, because it rarely made
me feel better, he'd hold me until I stopped crying. One time, I'd asked him
why he did it – left everything to come with me. He wasn't in any danger if
he'd stayed, and I could have done this whole nomad thing alone, probably. He'd
just shook his head, and smiled a funny way, and said he *had* to do it. He
never explained any more than that.
That
was when he started sleeping in the bed with me, too. He'd been fine on the couch,
most nights, on the floor on others. He said he hadn't slept in a decent bed
for most of his life, so it didn't bother him. But being alone, and scared and
sick and moody bothered the hell out of me, so one night he tucked me in and
turned to go to the couch, and I grabbed the back of his boxers and wouldn't
let go. "Stay," I insisted. With my other hand, I patted the bed beside me.
"Here." As emotional as I'd been that day, I think he was afraid I might shred
his underwear and then start taking apart what was inside if he didn't agree.
He was a hell of a lot nicer to sleep with than Mr. Gordo had been.
Nothing
happened, of course. We still wake up once in a while with a stray limb thrown
over on the other's side, but it's just the knowledge of another person, there,
that was the whole point. Not even touching each other, although as small as
some of the beds we've shared have been, it would be a bit hard to avoid that.
Especially now that I'm – expanding. It was a lot like sleeping together under
the tarp in the bed of the truck, but more comfortable, and with less clothing.
Now
he's saying we need to go see a doctor soon. I know he wants as much as I do to
still be in this place in three months or so, when the baby is born. I know
somehow he thinks of it as his own kid, too. I bet he doesn't have the same
fears I do about it, though. I mean – how was it conceived? Might it be a
little – weird? And what would happen once she's born? It'll be a she – I'm
certain of that. Slayers always are. And since the prophecy is the only thing I
have to cling to that makes even a shred of sense in this whole deal, I'm
holding on tight.
I'm
afraid, now. It's getting so close. This could be awful or wonderful, and
knowing my life, I'd like to place lots of money on awful. It's a fairly sure
bet. I'm tired, and I still don't have a job, and now I'm all worried about the
baby. Xander's lying over there in bed, talking about doctors and hospitals and
insurance, while I finish up writing here. I know one thing for sure right now
– I want him to really hold me while I sleep tonight. I'm scared, and that
could help me get over it. I'll worry about everything else tomorrow.
~**~
Okay
– things have been a little hectic. I got a job at Mrs. Maguire's hardware
store. Elaine – she says I should call her Elaine. I've only been there a few
days, but I can already see she's barely making enough money to keep her lights
on. I don't know how she's gonna pay me. I really don't care that much – at
least I'm out of the apartment, and have enough to do to keep myself from
dwelling on all the rest of my life. If she can't pay me, I won't sweat it.
I've worked for free as Slayer since I was fifteen, anyway. At least cashiering
for non-existent customers is safer.
Xander
took Tuesday off work and dragged me to the doctor. We looked just like any
other young expectant couple, sitting in the waiting room. I read the year-old
Glamour magazine, while my 'husband' flipped through an equally out-of-date
Sports Illustrated, not paying a bit of attention to the words and barely even
registering the pictures. I wondered why he jumped when they called for Emily
Harper, until I remembered that was me. We followed the nurse obediently to the
little room. She took my blood pressure, checked my pulse and temperature, and
gave me a little cup to pee in – standard stuff. Xander covered his eyes while
I took off my clothes and put on the big paper tent they called a robe.
The
doctor did a perfunctory examination, told me the projected due date, what
hospital he worked with, gave me a number to set up arrangements with them. I
was a little over six months, which was about what I'd figured. Then he did the
sonogram.
It
was real. A real baby. Before I saw the pictures, it was just this – growth.
Sure, it wiggled and kicked in there. It even got the hiccups now and then. But
it wasn't real until I saw that perfect little profile on the screen in black
and white. She was sucking her thumb. "She has my nose," Xander said in wonder,
and I could swear he was right. Even though I know full well he had nothing to
do with the whole thing. I was just caught up in the wonder, I guess.
The
doctor agreed that it was probably a girl, although he warned us that these
things weren't as accurate as amniocentesis. I didn't explain why we were so
certain of the gender – he'd never understand. I didn't realize until they were
wiping the gel off my belly that I'd been clinging to Xander's hand the whole
time.
I'd
lied when I'd told him I probably could have done this alone. I don't know how
I'd have survived ten minutes without Xander there by my side. I decided then
and there that, as far as I was concerned, this was going to be Xander's baby.
Since I didn't really know who or what the father was, I could pick my own, and
I picked him. He'd probably tease me about not picking him before the
conception occurred, instead cutting him out of the fun and putting him in for
the work. But he'd be smiling when he said that – real wide.
I
love him. I don't know if I'm "in love" with him – I'm kinda hormonal at this
point, and probably not qualified to make those kinds of decisions just yet.
But I love him, and I have for years. I'm not sure why this comes as a
revelation to me, but it does.
~**~
"Emmy,"
he said. We were standing in the doctor's parking lot, beside the truck. "We
need to celebrate. I wanna buy you a new dress. A real maternity dress." I
almost laughed – the Salvation Army maternity stuff had been even more
God-awful than their regular stuff, so my wardrobe had been a bit limited
lately. I did get some of those shorts with the stretch panel in the front, and
a pair of jeans made that way, too. I was still small enough that I could wear
some of Xander's big tee shirts on top, with only a little pulling in the
front. I was able to wear a couple of pairs of my regular jeans until a couple
of weeks ago, just slung low below the bulge, but that option was gone now. I
owned one dress – a faded flowered cotton peasant thing that I had on today. My
sandals, which were probably white once, were grimy and a bit gray. My hair,
which had grown a lot, was in two braids. I think I had the white trash thing
down about perfectly. I wonder what Cordelia Chase would say if she could see
me now?
"Xa
– Alan, we can't afford that," I protested.
"Yes,
we can. I saw a pretty one in Wal-mart last week – let's go there." He gave me
a lazy grin, and my heart actually skipped a beat. "Play your cards right, I'll
even take you to McDonalds afterward."
I
think I mentioned before how good this guy was looking lately. I kinda thought
it might just be that I spent so much time looking at him and all. But I saw a
girl watching us from across the way, and I could tell she was taking him in.
He was wearing a really faded pair of Levi's, way tight across his butt, and
one of those tank-type tee-shirts with an almost completely unbuttoned denim
shirt on top. And his work boots – he didn't own any other shoes any more.
While I made the Salvation Army clothes look seedy, he made them look sexy.
That
girl drooling over him was really beginning to piss me off. I threw my arms around his neck, taking him
completely by surprise. "You are the best husband a girl could have," I said,
completely sincerely. I was channeling Emily or something. "I love you, Alan."
And I kissed him, hard.
It
took him a minute to overcome his shock and kiss me back. And as caught up in
the moment as I was, I still couldn't resist opening one eye to catch the girl
turning her back on us, shoulders a bit slumped in disappointment. *Mine,* I
thought viciously in her direction, and I realized how much I meant that. He
slid his hands down to rest on my hips, pulling me as close as my big belly
would allow. It was so right, so pure. Like all things that good, it ended all
too soon. I stayed in his arms a few moments, resting my head on his chest. "I
love you too, Emily," he whispered, and I could tell that in his mind, he was
calling me Buffy.
~**~
It
was the most wonderful time we'd had since we left California, maybe even since
we first met. We went to Wal-mart, and he made me try on just about every
maternity dress they had in my size. We finally settled on a sophisticated
looking dark blue two piece with a pullover blousy top and a straight skirt.
The dressing room attendant even got into our quest, and she sucked in her
breath when she saw me coming out in it. "Ohhh, honey, you are so goin' to
knock his socks off in that one!" she crowed.
I
turned this way and that in front of the three-way mirror. "I don't know where
I'll ever wear it," I complained. "It's not like we can afford to go anywhere
dressy."
"Sugar,
you wear it for *him,*" she lectured me, peering out the door to check on
Xander who was pacing outside. "Although the way he looks at you, he'd think
you was beautiful in a flour sack." Her brown eyes twinkled, and I looked at
her doubtfully.
"Come
on. I'm big as a house, and my hair's a mess, and…"
"Girl!
He loves you. Don't be stupid. He thought you was beautiful before you got
pregnant, and he'll still think you are when he needs glasses and a hearing
aid, I'd betcha. Go on and show it to him."
Sure
enough, she was right. He insisted that it was *the* dress, even though it cost
forty dollars. He was glowing, he was so proud. And I had to retreat into
Emily, because I knew Buffy didn't deserve him, deserve this. Buffy would have
never deigned to try on a forty-dollar dress – her belts cost more than that.
Emily thought it was the best present she'd ever had, and loved the man willing
to get it for her. Buffy had been selfish and stupid and never really seen what
she had right in front of her all along. Emily lived for what she had – she had
little enough to know what real treasure looked like. And her real treasure was
contained in Alan. I decided I like Emily a whole lot better than Buffy – and
that both Xander and Alan were gems.
Emily
had a Big Mac for dinner, and came home and slept in her husband's arms,
perfectly content. Buffy went to sleep that night, and I didn't plan on letting
her wake up again for quite a while.
~**~
"Elaine,"
I called, "Where are the bigger bags? I'm out."
I
now knew how she stayed afloat. Every couple of weeks, contractors from
Columbia and Springfield would descend on the store, buying all the cool
vintage-looking fixtures and accessories she stocked. She was south-central
Missouri's answer to Restoration Hardware. And I was sure they could all go to
Kansas City or St. Louis and get the same things, but Elaine had a loyal
following, and I now had a regular paycheck without guilt. I loved the
contractor days – I was busy as hell, and they all flirted innocently with me.
I made sure I flashed my cheap wedding ring shamelessly, though. I mean, its
not like any of them were interested in a very pregnant woman anyway, married
or not. They were just being nice.
Only
then, one of them came up behind me while I was bending over, and copped a feel
of my butt. When I stood, he slid his arms around my ample waist. I was gonna…
"Hey,
baby," he purred in my ear.
My
mood changed in an instant. "Alan!" I squealed, whipping around in his arms and
kissing him thoroughly. "What are you doing here?" I demanded, when he finally
released me.
He
shrugged. "We finished our contract, and they didn't want to begin the new
project until Monday, so you're stuck with me for a few days." He jerked his
thumb at one of the contractors. "Steve here is a friend of Dan's, and when he
came by the site to visit and said he was heading here today, I grabbed a ride
back with him." Alan and Dan usually carpooled, and the other man had driven today,
leaving me the truck.
"Hey,
Al," Elaine greeted him. "Stop fondling my help, would you? Here, Em, these are
the bags you needed, aren't they?"
"So,
Harper, you're the creep who knocked up this pretty lady," Steve teased my man.
Only I would notice the shadow of sadness that crossed his handsome face at
that. "Then you went and took her off the market so none of the rest of us
could have her." I liked Steve. He always had a nice word for both Elaine and
me and he even flirted gently with my boss, making her feel special. He was a
good guy.
"I'll
have you know I took her off the market first," Alan/Xander told him,
defensively. We acted very much the married couple, in private as well as
public, but when we slept together, we just slept. The subject of sex never
came up, and right now, in my condition, that was probably for the best.
Besides, I think Xander was holding out for Buffy, and he was aware that the
one who was so affectionate was Emily. Or at least, she was the one willing to
admit to her feelings. Covering his disappointment deftly, he turned to Elaine.
"Could you use a little extra help today? I can't think of anyplace I'd rather
hang out than with the prettiest lady in Rolla. Oh, and my wife," he jibed. I
poked him in the ribs and grinned.
Elaine
loved Alan, and was always telling me how lucky I was to have him. If only she
knew how true her statement really was. "Sure. I never turn down a strong back
and handsome smile," she teased back. "Even if it is just to help out at the
store." Elaine had been a very young widow, and though she had a steady stream
of various men coming through the hardware store that had been all her husband
had left her, she never married again. She flirted, and teased, but if anyone
tried to get serious with her, she politely but firmly gave him the cold
shoulder. And more than a few had tried, if the stories were to be believed.
She was close to fifty, but her confidant posture, soft silver hair and bright
blue eyes gave her the look of a much younger woman. She had quickly become my
best friend.
Little
by little, talking with Elaine, I'd given Emily a history. I shared it all with
'Alan' so he'd know, too. I never went into great detail, so there wouldn't be
a lot to remember, and she had just enough in common with Buffy to sound
genuine in the telling. But Emily had met Alan when she was sixteen and been
smart enough to see how wonderful he was from the first glance, unlike Buffy
with Xander. Her parents were divorced, her mother had died just after she and
Alan got married, and she had left a little sister behind with an 'uncle', too.
Where 'behind' was never came up, nor did other identifying details. The
feelings were more important than the facts, even in Elaine's book. I was lucky
to have her, too.
I
was counting the drawer while Alan and Elaine straightened the stock that
evening. We'd had a good day, and he was helping her figure out what needed to
be replenished. I stuck the money into the bank bag, then locked up the safe.
When I turned around, Elaine was behind me. "Why don't you take the rest of the
week off?" she suggested. "It'll be slow since the contractors were here
today." Xander walked up, and she gave him that sly smile. "Besides, I probably
won't get any work out of you with this guy hanging around distracting you all
the time."
"You
just can't stand to have anyone here who's prettier than you are," he grinned.
"If
that were true, I'd've never hired your wife," she shot back.
"Whoop!
Two points for Elaine," he hooted, then slipped his arm around my waist. "I
can't argue with that logic." He kissed the top of my head.
It
hit me like a bolt of lightning – I'd never been truly happy before. Buffy's
happiness was always tinged with the tragic – sleeping with Angel and turning
him into a murderer; keeping Riley at arm's length until he finally just gave
up and went away; winning the battle with Glory just to have to leave home and
friends behind. Except Xander, thank God. But I was ecstatically happy right
now, as Emily. I didn't want to go back. I'd run forever, if he'd run with me.
I missed our life back home, but I didn't, at the same time. I finally had
everything I ever wanted. And Buffy, still sleeping in my brain, roused herself
enough to predict, "It can't last." I tried to ignore her.
~**~