Disclaimer: I will not claim to own anything of this story. Joss Whedon
created the characters, Billie Letts wrote "Where the Heart Is", which this
is based on.
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.
Author's Notes: Goodness, more to read. I was going to put up another chapter this weekend, but I was detained because I had to do some mall- shoppage and library research. I tell you, I hate writing papers for school. I do hope you approve of this chapter, and tell me so in reviews. I would say more, but I have to go leave for Shakespeare class soon, and my eyes are starting to cross. Well, please read and review! I love all of you!
PS: Here is the thing- I've never met anyone from Alabama. My experiences with the state come from movies, and that song by Lynyrd Skynyrd. So, I have no personal biases towards the state. Don't write me hate letters saying that I portray people from Alabama as uber-religious hicks. They are not. Knowing the state of the people who write the letter is necessary to the plot, I assure you. ____________________________________________________________________________
* *
*
Chapter Ten- Daylight
"Looks like Miss Popular finally decided to wake up," a sarcastic feminine voice whined.
Slowly peeling her heavy eyelids open, Buffy was assaulted with various shades of yellow. Yellow had never been one of her favorite colors. Yet, she found herself in a room, the walls painted a muted shade of daffodil, bright sunlight beaming through the window.
It took her a moment to assess where she was. Although the decorator had attempted to make the room feel homey, the unmistakable smell and extreme cleanliness common in private hospital rooms was apparent. But, unlike the one other hospital room Buffy had been in long ago, every inch of this one was covered in baskets and bouquets of flowers, save one little tray to her right.
A nurse, possibly the one who had woken her up, had pushed a large metal cart into the room, and placed a plastic wrapped plate onto the tray. A headband was keeping her long, blonde hair out of her face, and the extreme amount of makeup she wore made it hard to determine her age.
"I hope you know that just because you're a celebrity, I won't treat you any different," the nurse commented without looking at Buffy.
Before Buffy could respond, the nurse turned her cart around, and pushed it out the room. She brushed past a young woman in a white coat standing by the door, who had been watching the previous one-sided conversation.
Quirking one eyebrow up, the woman entered, and began flipping through a clipboard that had been placed outside Buffy's room. As she read, she would occasionally push a strand of her red hair behind her ear.
When she had finished reading, she glanced up at the girl, and smiled when they made eye contact.
"Hello, Buffy," she said warmly, "I hope Sunday wasn't being an extreme bitch today."
"Sunday?"
"Nurse Sunday." As she mentioned the nurse's name, she rolled her eyes. "Sunday has a continuous case of PMS and is mean to everyone, so don't take it personal." She set the clipboard down next to Buffy's breakfast plate, and started examining the pink roses on Buffy's nightstand. "I'm Dr. Rosenburg, by the way."
Buffy sat up, adjusting the pillows behind her back. "Where did all these flowers come from?"
"Oh my goddess, just about everyone in the world! They've been coming in since the Today Show talked about you this morning."
"Why would people send me flowers?"
"Because you're a celebrity. Not everyone gives birth in a Wal-Mart. There's also a mob of reporters downstairs who want to talk to you, but security's taking care of them."
Suddenly tired, Buffy glanced at the plate Sunday had brought in. She was also very hungry.
"Is that my breakfast?" she asked in a small, child-like voice.
Grinning, Dr. Rosenburg swung the tray over her patient's bed. Buffy tore off the plastic wrap, and began devouring the hot sausage links and miniature blueberry muffins.
"I'm surprised your eating it," Dr. Rosenburg giggled, "The breakfasts aren't all that good. But I guess you're hungry."
"Mmmhmm." Buffy was too busy chomping on a link to form actual words.
Dr. Rosenburg opened Buffy's chart again, looking over a few pages. Buffy watched the doctor as she ate.
When all of her food was gone, the young girl wiped her mouth. "How's the guy who . . .?"
"Spike?" Willow interrupted, a flash of recognition sparking inside of her. "I wasn't on call when you two were brought in, but one of the residents told me he had to be restrained because he wouldn't let anyone but me take care of you."
Buffy laughed, not just at the picture that popped up in her head, but at the ramblings of the redhead. "Your not the Willow he wanted me to see yesterday, are you?" she asked.
"Guilty." Dr. Rosenburg blushed. "Spike's convinced I'm the best doctor in the world, even though I'm just a first year resident."
"But he's fine?"
"Yep, nothing cut, nothing bleeding."
The room soon fell silent. Willow turned to her patient, and watched Buffy gnaw on her lower lip.
"Something wrong," inquired the doctor.
Hesitating, Buffy opened her mouth to speak, trying to find the words. "How much trouble am I in?"
"Why would you be in trouble?"
Buffy shrugged, choosing to stare at her feet, hidden under the hospital sheets. "I can't pay for anything."
Willow sat down at the foot of the bed. "That's no problem . . ."
"I owe the Wal-Mart at least six hundred dollars, probably more 'cause I ruined a sleeping bag with my damn placenta. Then, there's the fucking hospital bill that I'll have to pay."
"Buffy . . ."
"I have nothing! No job, no money, no place to live. And now, I have a baby to take care of."
Patting Buffy's feet, Willow stood up.
"I'll get you something that will make you feel better."
The doctor walked out of the room, leaving the young girl alone with her thoughts. But Willow was back in a few seconds, carrying a small bundle wrapped in pink.
"Shhh," she whispered to the bundle. "Someone's been missing you," Willow explained, placing it in Buffy's arms.
True to the doctor's words, Buffy felt immediately better when she held her little girl. No bigger than a doll, she fit perfectly into her mother's arms, her pink face all scrunched up. Even just a few hours old, her head was matted in dark brown hair, courtesy of her father, but the little nose was all Summers.
"Love at first sight?" Willow asked.
Watching her little girl snuggle into her chest, seeking the warmth she had been so familiar with in the past nine months, Buffy felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
"Big time."
Willow resumed her place at the foot of the bed, and began stroking the brown hair atop the little girl's hair.
"What are you going to call her?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dr. Rosenburg, or Willow as she told Buffy to call her, began chuckling.
"What's so funny?" demanded Buffy, who had been filling out the birth certificate information, now watching the doctor's face turn red, matching her hair.
"Nothing." She was holding the baby carefully, rocking her in one fluid movement. "Well, call your kid Aurora Summers, and see what happens."
Throwing her pen onto the tray, Buffy fell back into the bed, crossing her arms. "If you know so much about naming kids, you do it!"
Willow immediately sobered. "No, there is nothing wrong with naming her Aurora. But why don't you choose a middle name less . . . sunny."
'A name that means something.' Buffy recalled Xander's words to her, and although it seemed like it happened a thousand years ago, it was still true.
"Rose. Aurora Rose Summers."
Grinning, Willow watched Buffy scribble the name onto the form, then go on with the other mandatory questions: mother's name, place of birth, social security number. Stuff she had to memorize while living in the foster care system.
But, she stopped when she came to part two.
"What's the matter?" Willow questioned.
She hesitated. "They want to know about the father."
Nodding, Willow stood, placing Aurora into her baby bed.
"Well, what are you going to put down?"
For at least an eternity, or realistically, for three seconds, Buffy stared at the question. Then, before she could back down, she scrawled N/A.
Reaching her hand into Aurora's bed, Buffy began stroking her head. "Guess that means we're on our own, kiddo."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Although the hospital staff wasn't making it mandatory, they were practically begging Buffy to speak at the 3 P.M. press conference. Then, maybe the press would leave the waiting room and go back to hounding politicians and chasing police vehicles.
It lasted no longer than five minutes, but the young mother felt drained when Sunday finally pushed her wheelchair out of the mini-circus.
"Is it gonna be like that forever?" Buffy asked Willow, who was walking beside the wheel chair.
"No," she responded, "They'll follow the story for a while, then find something more exciting to cover."
The rest of the afternoon, and the next day, Buffy poured through the various letters that had arrived, addressed simply to The Wal-Mart Mommy and Baby.
Most were sweet, written by school children or large families wishing the mother well. Some sent money, in case she needed it. A few offered homes for her, or asked if they could adopt Aurora. There was even one from a man in Ft. Worth, Texas, who had the growing suspicion that he was the father, and would give her $200 if she wouldn't tell his wife.
But, there were some letters that were less than cordial. One shining example contained only a few sentences:
GOD WILL PUNISH THE WHORE MOTHE. AND THAT BASTARD OF A CHILD WILL BURN IN HELL. -WASHOUGAL, ALABAMA.
All of those notes were promptly thrown in the garbage.
Through her readings, Buffy had visitors pop in occasionally. Tara walked in first, carrying a small teddy bear, and blushing because of it. Xander and Cordelia were next, and Cordelia proceeded to order the nurses on how to do their jobs while Buffy and Xander chatted. Before hours were over, Joyce and Clem arrived, and although Joyce lectured the girl, it was extremely pleasant. The next day, Giles and Anya visited briefly, and Giles explained that, although Spike would love to come see her, he had some business in Los Angeles to attend to.
Noon came, and Buffy was absently eating her chicken salad sandwich and watching Jerry Springer on mute while Aurora slept, when a knock came at her door.
Graham, an orderly who was acting as her security guard, poked his head in.
"There's a Wesley Price here to see you."
"Ok," she said, although she had no idea who this person was.
A man in his early thirties walked through the door, dressed in a classy and expensive suit, carrying a large black leather briefcase. He approached the bed, and asked if he could sit down.
When she nodded, he grabbed a nearby chair, then placed his briefcase on the ground next to him.
"Before we begin, how are you feeling?" he asked politely.
She shrugged. "Like I just pushed a watermelon out of a hole the size of my fist."
This apparently caught him off guard.
"Huh," he blurted out after a moment. "Wasn't expecting that."
He reached up to his neck, and adjusted the green silk tie around his neck.
"Well, Miss Summers, you're probably wondering who I am, and what I'm doing here. I am president of West Coast relations for the Wal-Mart Corporation."
Something that could have originated from Buffy's throat fell deep into her stomach.
"Ok," she began, "I am really, really sorry about sneaking into the store and living there. And I am going to pay back everything I've borrowed. It's just that, it's going to take some time. I have to find a job and a place to live. But, if you don't mind, I'll pay in installments or something like that, and you can charge interest if you wanna . . ."
The rambling stopped when she noticed that Mr. Price was chuckling.
"No, I'm not a collection agent!" He was smiling brightly, which immediately put the girl at ease. "We have a team of highly trained Uruk- Hai who take care of those matters."
"Ura-what?"
He stopped laughing. "Uruk-Hai. Sorry, Lord of the Rings humor." Almost timidly, he reached for his briefcase and opened it when he placed it on his lap.
"I guess a cynical way of looking at your situation means Wal-Mart got a lot of free advertising, and for that, we should be grateful. But the CEO of Wal-Mart has a different approach to it. He adores children, and in his own way, feels that all the employees of his company are family to him. And because your little one was born in his store, that makes you family."
Mr. Price pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Buffy.
"He has given me a list of demands that I am to carry out in this situation. First, Wal-Mart will pay for your hospital bills and for the damage at the store. Secondly, the company is presenting you with a check for $50,000 so you may find someplace suitable to live. An additional $50,000 will be put in an account for your daughter to pay for college. Finally, the company will offer you a job at any Wal-Mart store in the United States."
He had been reading from his own sheet of paper when he gave Buffy the details of her gifts. When he finished, he started chuckling at Buffy's wide eyes and open mouth.
"Is that not enough?" he teased.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
kdavid33- I thought that part in the story, where Forney (Spike's character) follows her to keep an eye on her, was very sweet. A little stalker-ish, but we forgive him. Glad you like.
Imzadi- Oh, your review went away? Sorry. I know, I think the name Aurora is awesome, and would love to name a little girl that. But, seeing how I don't want children at this particular point in my life, I'm not gonna. Tara and Spike are cool together, but just as friends. Tara (SPOILER ALERT) will only be with one person in my stories, and most of you can guess who. Anyway, Lindsey in two chapters. BTW, when he showed up on Angel, I was like, "Oh, Imzadi is going to flip out!" Love you babe.
EmilyTheStrange- Kisses to you! Glad you love it.
masaarah- Because of your insight, I added a whole new part for an upcoming chapter. You are awesome and awsome-er. Please allow me to bow before you as your humble slave. Thank you so much!
Comedia- I hate you, you stupid bitch. Never review again!
~ In reality, Comedia is a friend of mine, a fellow fic-er (although she dabbles in the world of Harry Potter), and lives right across the hall from me. I love her with all my toes! She is actually sitting right next to me, eating Chef Boyardee macaroni and cheese, although she wishes she was eating chili. Do you want to say anything, Comedia?
"I do like my acid." Also, "It's Bike! It's not Spuffy, it's Bike!" She's an idiot.
Thank you very much, hon! And, truthfully, thank you for reviewing.
fashiongrrl- I think your mom needs to sit you down, and explain what an understanding means . . . To un-naïve you, it means that Joyce and Clem are, to put it bluntly, fuck buddies. Sorry to assist in your loss of innocence. I know, Clem+Joyce= EEEEWWWW! But, I at least think they are cute together. Anyway, I'm happy that you think I've done a good job of making this story stay true to the characters. It's going to get a lot weirder, but I hope you keep on reading. Thank you mucho!
Tobert- Sorry to disappoint you, but Spuffy lovin' is a long ways away. We're talking, at the most, ten chapters. And, you like this better than the movie? That gives me the giggles!
QuieraStrawberry9- Thanks for reviewing, I'll try to update before Thanksgiving.
FirstAidKid- Yeah, the stuff Buffy and Angel were saying was from the Linkin Park song "Pushing Me Away". I mentioned that in the author's notes for legal purposes, but it's ok. I rarely read author's notes. Anyway, Linkin Park is awesome! You are too!
everwoodcoffee- I've only read the book once, and that was a book on tape. So most of my story memory comes from watching the movie, and talking to Comedia. She has an obsessive memory of the book, and keeps criticizing me because I do things differently. Anyway, she's anal-retentive and nobody loves her. Thanks for reviewing and reading.
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.
Author's Notes: Goodness, more to read. I was going to put up another chapter this weekend, but I was detained because I had to do some mall- shoppage and library research. I tell you, I hate writing papers for school. I do hope you approve of this chapter, and tell me so in reviews. I would say more, but I have to go leave for Shakespeare class soon, and my eyes are starting to cross. Well, please read and review! I love all of you!
PS: Here is the thing- I've never met anyone from Alabama. My experiences with the state come from movies, and that song by Lynyrd Skynyrd. So, I have no personal biases towards the state. Don't write me hate letters saying that I portray people from Alabama as uber-religious hicks. They are not. Knowing the state of the people who write the letter is necessary to the plot, I assure you. ____________________________________________________________________________
* *
*
Chapter Ten- Daylight
"Looks like Miss Popular finally decided to wake up," a sarcastic feminine voice whined.
Slowly peeling her heavy eyelids open, Buffy was assaulted with various shades of yellow. Yellow had never been one of her favorite colors. Yet, she found herself in a room, the walls painted a muted shade of daffodil, bright sunlight beaming through the window.
It took her a moment to assess where she was. Although the decorator had attempted to make the room feel homey, the unmistakable smell and extreme cleanliness common in private hospital rooms was apparent. But, unlike the one other hospital room Buffy had been in long ago, every inch of this one was covered in baskets and bouquets of flowers, save one little tray to her right.
A nurse, possibly the one who had woken her up, had pushed a large metal cart into the room, and placed a plastic wrapped plate onto the tray. A headband was keeping her long, blonde hair out of her face, and the extreme amount of makeup she wore made it hard to determine her age.
"I hope you know that just because you're a celebrity, I won't treat you any different," the nurse commented without looking at Buffy.
Before Buffy could respond, the nurse turned her cart around, and pushed it out the room. She brushed past a young woman in a white coat standing by the door, who had been watching the previous one-sided conversation.
Quirking one eyebrow up, the woman entered, and began flipping through a clipboard that had been placed outside Buffy's room. As she read, she would occasionally push a strand of her red hair behind her ear.
When she had finished reading, she glanced up at the girl, and smiled when they made eye contact.
"Hello, Buffy," she said warmly, "I hope Sunday wasn't being an extreme bitch today."
"Sunday?"
"Nurse Sunday." As she mentioned the nurse's name, she rolled her eyes. "Sunday has a continuous case of PMS and is mean to everyone, so don't take it personal." She set the clipboard down next to Buffy's breakfast plate, and started examining the pink roses on Buffy's nightstand. "I'm Dr. Rosenburg, by the way."
Buffy sat up, adjusting the pillows behind her back. "Where did all these flowers come from?"
"Oh my goddess, just about everyone in the world! They've been coming in since the Today Show talked about you this morning."
"Why would people send me flowers?"
"Because you're a celebrity. Not everyone gives birth in a Wal-Mart. There's also a mob of reporters downstairs who want to talk to you, but security's taking care of them."
Suddenly tired, Buffy glanced at the plate Sunday had brought in. She was also very hungry.
"Is that my breakfast?" she asked in a small, child-like voice.
Grinning, Dr. Rosenburg swung the tray over her patient's bed. Buffy tore off the plastic wrap, and began devouring the hot sausage links and miniature blueberry muffins.
"I'm surprised your eating it," Dr. Rosenburg giggled, "The breakfasts aren't all that good. But I guess you're hungry."
"Mmmhmm." Buffy was too busy chomping on a link to form actual words.
Dr. Rosenburg opened Buffy's chart again, looking over a few pages. Buffy watched the doctor as she ate.
When all of her food was gone, the young girl wiped her mouth. "How's the guy who . . .?"
"Spike?" Willow interrupted, a flash of recognition sparking inside of her. "I wasn't on call when you two were brought in, but one of the residents told me he had to be restrained because he wouldn't let anyone but me take care of you."
Buffy laughed, not just at the picture that popped up in her head, but at the ramblings of the redhead. "Your not the Willow he wanted me to see yesterday, are you?" she asked.
"Guilty." Dr. Rosenburg blushed. "Spike's convinced I'm the best doctor in the world, even though I'm just a first year resident."
"But he's fine?"
"Yep, nothing cut, nothing bleeding."
The room soon fell silent. Willow turned to her patient, and watched Buffy gnaw on her lower lip.
"Something wrong," inquired the doctor.
Hesitating, Buffy opened her mouth to speak, trying to find the words. "How much trouble am I in?"
"Why would you be in trouble?"
Buffy shrugged, choosing to stare at her feet, hidden under the hospital sheets. "I can't pay for anything."
Willow sat down at the foot of the bed. "That's no problem . . ."
"I owe the Wal-Mart at least six hundred dollars, probably more 'cause I ruined a sleeping bag with my damn placenta. Then, there's the fucking hospital bill that I'll have to pay."
"Buffy . . ."
"I have nothing! No job, no money, no place to live. And now, I have a baby to take care of."
Patting Buffy's feet, Willow stood up.
"I'll get you something that will make you feel better."
The doctor walked out of the room, leaving the young girl alone with her thoughts. But Willow was back in a few seconds, carrying a small bundle wrapped in pink.
"Shhh," she whispered to the bundle. "Someone's been missing you," Willow explained, placing it in Buffy's arms.
True to the doctor's words, Buffy felt immediately better when she held her little girl. No bigger than a doll, she fit perfectly into her mother's arms, her pink face all scrunched up. Even just a few hours old, her head was matted in dark brown hair, courtesy of her father, but the little nose was all Summers.
"Love at first sight?" Willow asked.
Watching her little girl snuggle into her chest, seeking the warmth she had been so familiar with in the past nine months, Buffy felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes.
"Big time."
Willow resumed her place at the foot of the bed, and began stroking the brown hair atop the little girl's hair.
"What are you going to call her?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Dr. Rosenburg, or Willow as she told Buffy to call her, began chuckling.
"What's so funny?" demanded Buffy, who had been filling out the birth certificate information, now watching the doctor's face turn red, matching her hair.
"Nothing." She was holding the baby carefully, rocking her in one fluid movement. "Well, call your kid Aurora Summers, and see what happens."
Throwing her pen onto the tray, Buffy fell back into the bed, crossing her arms. "If you know so much about naming kids, you do it!"
Willow immediately sobered. "No, there is nothing wrong with naming her Aurora. But why don't you choose a middle name less . . . sunny."
'A name that means something.' Buffy recalled Xander's words to her, and although it seemed like it happened a thousand years ago, it was still true.
"Rose. Aurora Rose Summers."
Grinning, Willow watched Buffy scribble the name onto the form, then go on with the other mandatory questions: mother's name, place of birth, social security number. Stuff she had to memorize while living in the foster care system.
But, she stopped when she came to part two.
"What's the matter?" Willow questioned.
She hesitated. "They want to know about the father."
Nodding, Willow stood, placing Aurora into her baby bed.
"Well, what are you going to put down?"
For at least an eternity, or realistically, for three seconds, Buffy stared at the question. Then, before she could back down, she scrawled N/A.
Reaching her hand into Aurora's bed, Buffy began stroking her head. "Guess that means we're on our own, kiddo."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Although the hospital staff wasn't making it mandatory, they were practically begging Buffy to speak at the 3 P.M. press conference. Then, maybe the press would leave the waiting room and go back to hounding politicians and chasing police vehicles.
It lasted no longer than five minutes, but the young mother felt drained when Sunday finally pushed her wheelchair out of the mini-circus.
"Is it gonna be like that forever?" Buffy asked Willow, who was walking beside the wheel chair.
"No," she responded, "They'll follow the story for a while, then find something more exciting to cover."
The rest of the afternoon, and the next day, Buffy poured through the various letters that had arrived, addressed simply to The Wal-Mart Mommy and Baby.
Most were sweet, written by school children or large families wishing the mother well. Some sent money, in case she needed it. A few offered homes for her, or asked if they could adopt Aurora. There was even one from a man in Ft. Worth, Texas, who had the growing suspicion that he was the father, and would give her $200 if she wouldn't tell his wife.
But, there were some letters that were less than cordial. One shining example contained only a few sentences:
GOD WILL PUNISH THE WHORE MOTHE. AND THAT BASTARD OF A CHILD WILL BURN IN HELL. -WASHOUGAL, ALABAMA.
All of those notes were promptly thrown in the garbage.
Through her readings, Buffy had visitors pop in occasionally. Tara walked in first, carrying a small teddy bear, and blushing because of it. Xander and Cordelia were next, and Cordelia proceeded to order the nurses on how to do their jobs while Buffy and Xander chatted. Before hours were over, Joyce and Clem arrived, and although Joyce lectured the girl, it was extremely pleasant. The next day, Giles and Anya visited briefly, and Giles explained that, although Spike would love to come see her, he had some business in Los Angeles to attend to.
Noon came, and Buffy was absently eating her chicken salad sandwich and watching Jerry Springer on mute while Aurora slept, when a knock came at her door.
Graham, an orderly who was acting as her security guard, poked his head in.
"There's a Wesley Price here to see you."
"Ok," she said, although she had no idea who this person was.
A man in his early thirties walked through the door, dressed in a classy and expensive suit, carrying a large black leather briefcase. He approached the bed, and asked if he could sit down.
When she nodded, he grabbed a nearby chair, then placed his briefcase on the ground next to him.
"Before we begin, how are you feeling?" he asked politely.
She shrugged. "Like I just pushed a watermelon out of a hole the size of my fist."
This apparently caught him off guard.
"Huh," he blurted out after a moment. "Wasn't expecting that."
He reached up to his neck, and adjusted the green silk tie around his neck.
"Well, Miss Summers, you're probably wondering who I am, and what I'm doing here. I am president of West Coast relations for the Wal-Mart Corporation."
Something that could have originated from Buffy's throat fell deep into her stomach.
"Ok," she began, "I am really, really sorry about sneaking into the store and living there. And I am going to pay back everything I've borrowed. It's just that, it's going to take some time. I have to find a job and a place to live. But, if you don't mind, I'll pay in installments or something like that, and you can charge interest if you wanna . . ."
The rambling stopped when she noticed that Mr. Price was chuckling.
"No, I'm not a collection agent!" He was smiling brightly, which immediately put the girl at ease. "We have a team of highly trained Uruk- Hai who take care of those matters."
"Ura-what?"
He stopped laughing. "Uruk-Hai. Sorry, Lord of the Rings humor." Almost timidly, he reached for his briefcase and opened it when he placed it on his lap.
"I guess a cynical way of looking at your situation means Wal-Mart got a lot of free advertising, and for that, we should be grateful. But the CEO of Wal-Mart has a different approach to it. He adores children, and in his own way, feels that all the employees of his company are family to him. And because your little one was born in his store, that makes you family."
Mr. Price pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Buffy.
"He has given me a list of demands that I am to carry out in this situation. First, Wal-Mart will pay for your hospital bills and for the damage at the store. Secondly, the company is presenting you with a check for $50,000 so you may find someplace suitable to live. An additional $50,000 will be put in an account for your daughter to pay for college. Finally, the company will offer you a job at any Wal-Mart store in the United States."
He had been reading from his own sheet of paper when he gave Buffy the details of her gifts. When he finished, he started chuckling at Buffy's wide eyes and open mouth.
"Is that not enough?" he teased.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
kdavid33- I thought that part in the story, where Forney (Spike's character) follows her to keep an eye on her, was very sweet. A little stalker-ish, but we forgive him. Glad you like.
Imzadi- Oh, your review went away? Sorry. I know, I think the name Aurora is awesome, and would love to name a little girl that. But, seeing how I don't want children at this particular point in my life, I'm not gonna. Tara and Spike are cool together, but just as friends. Tara (SPOILER ALERT) will only be with one person in my stories, and most of you can guess who. Anyway, Lindsey in two chapters. BTW, when he showed up on Angel, I was like, "Oh, Imzadi is going to flip out!" Love you babe.
EmilyTheStrange- Kisses to you! Glad you love it.
masaarah- Because of your insight, I added a whole new part for an upcoming chapter. You are awesome and awsome-er. Please allow me to bow before you as your humble slave. Thank you so much!
Comedia- I hate you, you stupid bitch. Never review again!
~ In reality, Comedia is a friend of mine, a fellow fic-er (although she dabbles in the world of Harry Potter), and lives right across the hall from me. I love her with all my toes! She is actually sitting right next to me, eating Chef Boyardee macaroni and cheese, although she wishes she was eating chili. Do you want to say anything, Comedia?
"I do like my acid." Also, "It's Bike! It's not Spuffy, it's Bike!" She's an idiot.
Thank you very much, hon! And, truthfully, thank you for reviewing.
fashiongrrl- I think your mom needs to sit you down, and explain what an understanding means . . . To un-naïve you, it means that Joyce and Clem are, to put it bluntly, fuck buddies. Sorry to assist in your loss of innocence. I know, Clem+Joyce= EEEEWWWW! But, I at least think they are cute together. Anyway, I'm happy that you think I've done a good job of making this story stay true to the characters. It's going to get a lot weirder, but I hope you keep on reading. Thank you mucho!
Tobert- Sorry to disappoint you, but Spuffy lovin' is a long ways away. We're talking, at the most, ten chapters. And, you like this better than the movie? That gives me the giggles!
QuieraStrawberry9- Thanks for reviewing, I'll try to update before Thanksgiving.
FirstAidKid- Yeah, the stuff Buffy and Angel were saying was from the Linkin Park song "Pushing Me Away". I mentioned that in the author's notes for legal purposes, but it's ok. I rarely read author's notes. Anyway, Linkin Park is awesome! You are too!
everwoodcoffee- I've only read the book once, and that was a book on tape. So most of my story memory comes from watching the movie, and talking to Comedia. She has an obsessive memory of the book, and keeps criticizing me because I do things differently. Anyway, she's anal-retentive and nobody loves her. Thanks for reviewing and reading.
