Disclaimer: Slowly, I crack open the bedroom door. All of the blinds are closed, defying the daylight trying to pour through. A lump is on the bed, the sheets wrapped around the form like a coccon. Smiling, I walk over, and raise the blinds. As soon as the light touches the form, it tries to roll away. "Anyanka-Faith," I say to the girl, who refuses to get up, "You can't do this. Yeah, I shut the world out when I realized that I didn't own Joss Whedon's 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' or Bonnie Lett's 'Where the Heart Is', but that can only last for a while. You will never be able to own Adam Brody, or his alter-ego Seth Cohan, and you never will. And you probably don't want to hear 'tomorrow's another day', but I promise you you'll see the sun again. And you're asking me why pain's the only way to happiness, but I promise you you'll see the sun again."

Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.

Author's Notes: Sorry for the brief hiatus. I would have updated last week, but Dead Week took over. You'd think that they wouldn't assign any homework over that time, but no! So, I've been a bad person. No promises, but I will try to update before I go home on Friday, seeing how next week will be spent lying out in the sun, and writing Comedia a screenplay. She is such a bitch. Anyway, hope you like this chapter. It takes place just after the last one with Angel, so almost three years have past, and Aurora's not a baby anymore.

PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel. This disclaimer idea came from my love of Dido's new CD, "Life For Rent", and the song "See the Sun". The whole Adam Brody/Seth Cohan really is how my sister acts. Sometimes, I don't understand her. ____________________________________________________________________________

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Chapter Eighteen- Letting Go

Humming along to the radio, Joyce shut the refrigerator door, a bag of carrots, one serving pack of chocolate pudding, and grape jelly. Placing the items on the kitchen counter, she removed two of the carrots from the bag, and took them over to the sink, where she proceeded to clean them.

The song ended, and the radio reporter used the break to give the highlights of the day's news and the weather, which was expected to be sunny and hot. If it weren't for the fact that the sun was starting to come up a little later, you wouldn't have known that it was mid-September.

Another song started to play, and Joyce smiled when she recognized it. Buffy always mocked her choice in music, but Joyce had a soft spot for modern country. Especially the new song this station was going crazy over, "A Place Called Home" by country newbie Liam Sloane.

The carrots were clean, and she began chopping them up into small sticks, then placed the sticks in a plastic bag. She was about to put the bag into the nearby Toy Story lunchbox, but something happened. Her head suddenly felt like it was a helium balloon, tied on only by a string, and her feet threatened to give way. Wavering, she leaned over the counter for support. This wasn't the first time it had happened. In fact, she normally would have ignored it. But this was the third one this summer. Maybe . . .

It passed just as she heard the stomping from above her. Relieved that the episode was over, she pushed it out of her mind as the stomping began moving from above her to the stairs, where it scurried down and became louder when it reached the hardwood of the ground floor.

The little tornado that was three-year-old Aurora Summers burst into the kitchen. Wearing a blue sundress emblazoned with kitties, her short brown hair in pigtails, she acted as if she wanted to put her feet through the floor, stomping and singing at the top of her lungs.

"I like big butts and I cannot LIE! You offer broffers can't deNIE! When a," she paused, smiling her big toothed grin, "All dressed, Gramma!"

Joyce tried hard not to growl. She was going to kill Xander Harris for teaching her precious girl that song.

"Please don't stamp your feet, Rory," she muttered instead, while opening a container of peanut butter.

Aurora seated herself at the kitchen table, in her pink booster seat, and worked on finishing the soggy bowl of Froot Loops she'd ignored at breakfast half an hour ago.

"I sing this song!" Aurora proclaimed, recognizing the song on the radio in between bites.

That got Joyce smiling again at her honorary granddaughter. "Can you sing it for me?" she asked.

Nodding, Aurora began to sing along, although her version of singing bordered on screaming.

Once again, there was stomping from upstairs.

"Aurora Rose Summers! Did you put your sandals on like I told you?" Buffy yelled, clearly not asking this for the first time.

Aurora giggled, and began to swing her bare feet back and forth.

Buffy stormed into the kitchen, putting her hair up in a clip as she came in, holding a pair of tiny salt-water sandals in her free hand.

"I don't like it when you don't listen to me," she scolded, pulling Aurora's chair from the table so she could put them on.

"Sorry Momma," Aurora sighed, although her mouth was full of cereal.

Once she was done, Buffy joined Joyce at the counter to help finish making Aurora's lunch.

Filling the Toy Story thermos with apple juice, Buffy winced when she heard the song.

"God, how can you listen to this . . ." she paused, looking over at her daughter, "S-H-I-T?" she amended.

Joyce rolled her eyes. "I happen to like this 'S-H-I-T', and you don't have to listen to it."

Buffy relaxed when the song ended.

"I don't know what it is, but GOD! I hate that voice! It's so grating!"

"Again, don't listen to it," Joyce teased.

"I like too," Aurora added, now standing on top of her booster seat, and swinging her little butt back and forth to the new song on the radio. "Guess what, Gramma?"

"What, Rory?"

She began beaming. "I go to school today!"

Laughing, Joyce watched Buffy's face suddenly pale.

"Yes, you do, honey. Such a big girl!" Joyce cooed. She then leaned over to Buffy and whispered in her ear, "You're going to be fine."

Buffy groaned. "Then why do I feel like I'm going to fall apart?" she whispered.

Hugging the young woman, Joyce gave her a kiss on the forehead. Buffy smiled gratefully, although something crossed her face when she looked back at Joyce.

"You OK?" Buffy inquired.

"What? Oh, yes. Just didn't get enough sleep last night," Joyce lied. "Time for school." Changing the subject, she handed the lunchbox to the blonde.

"Yeah, time for school."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Evergreen Preschool was one of those nauseating, colorful institutions parents don't mind leaving their kids in, a sickly testimonial to the characters of Sesame Street and primary geometry. All around, little kids were tearing across the length of the building, while their parents were trying to calm them down. One child, however, was not participating in the chaos.

Meredith Harris had decided that she would carry the terrible twos all the way over her third birthday. She really was excited for school, but the fact that her parents were leaving her with utter strangers forced the child to sit against one of the walls, arms folded, mouth set in a firm pout.

Crouching down beside her, Xander was trying to explain the reasons why school was a good thing. But she was having none of it, ignoring the coaxing, pleading, and occasional mild threats coming from her dad.

Cordelia, on the other hand, was not paying attention to her brat of a daughter. She knew which side of the family this behavior came from, and was feeling too embarrassed to scold. Also, she was on the verge of tears, not wanting to let her baby girl grow up so quickly. Instead, she was focusing on the little brunet boy who was attempting to head butt a child twice his size.

"Holden Chase Harris! If you aren't holding my hand in five seconds, I'll . . ." She trailed off when the boy succeeded in ramming the older boy with his forehead. He was now running away, screaming with delight while the other child chased him.

Holden was that little surprise the Harris' discovered five months after Meredith was born. Where his sister was pouty and moody (just like his mother), Holden took after the Harris side, except for the excessive alcoholism.

If anything, the marriage of Alexander Harris and Cordelia Chase had been a scandal. Most people couldn't understand why Sunnydale's most distinguished girl would choose the whitest trash in the world as her husband.

Sometimes, Cordelia herself would wonder how it came to be. She had known Xander since grade school, although their relationship had been anything but friendly. A snobby bitch since birth, she clung to the like-minded and ignored or tormented the lower beings.

Then came high school. Suddenly, scruffy Xander became cute Xander, and Cordelia unexpectedly found herself looking forward to seeing him at school, even though the only thing they did was fight. The fighting lead to heated make-out sessions in the closet, and little by little, Cordelia became a part of Xander's life. In the beginning, his friends were a little weirded out that she was hanging out with them, but grew to love (or at first, tolerate) her.

At least she had Xander when her life fell apart. Her father was arrested her senior year for income tax evasion, and she and her mother lost everything. Those who still hung out with her even though she had befriended the school freaks abandoned her. The option of college was gone, and she had to take two part time jobs, one at the Magic Box and Joyce's gallery, to pay for her prom dress.

After graduation, Xander asked Cordelia if she wanted to live with him. He wasn't planning on going to college, and decided to instead become a police officer. They lived, at first, in a dinky apartment near the freeway, yet she had never been happier. Three years later, they were married in a private ceremony attended by their true family. Xander didn't even bother inviting his side, while Cordelia's mother and new stepfather (her father's ex-business partner) boycotted.

Cordelia was finally content. She had an adoring husband, a beautiful home, and two great kids . . .

'Well,' she corrected herself, patting her swollen belly, 'Meredith and Holden aren't going to be the only Harris children anymore.'

Cordelia had found out months earlier that she was expecting . . . again. In a way, she was happy, but she was starting to get annoyed by these unexpected pregnancies.

Three familiar faces suddenly entered the chaotic preschool room. Buffy's eyes were widening when she took in the tiny, hyper bodies dashing from one end of the room to the other. Aurora had pulled herself out of her mother's grasp immediately, and was intent on kicking every boy she saw. The only adult actually laughing at the scene was Spike, who had come in with Buffy to fill out some release forms, giving him permission to pick up Aurora if she became sick one day.

The two scanned the room, and spotted the Harris's instantly.

"How you doing?" Buffy asked the parents once she made it over, giving both a hug.

"Cordy's cried twice today, so probably not good," Xander informed, chuckling when his wife hit him.

She crossed her arms, a mirror image of her pouting daughter. "It's just the hormones," she justified, giving Xander an evil look while he and Spike started talking.

Buffy laughed. "Don't worry," she informed Cordelia, "I'm on the verge of total meltdown."

"All stocked up on chocolate?" Cordelia asked.

"Duh."

Laughing, Cordelia turned her attention to Spike, who was leaning against the wall and staring at the sea of tiny people.

"Hey, Spike," Cordelia began, "You looking for a new girlfriend? Some toddler who will only turn you into a pathetic shell of a loser?"

Spike glared at her, then his face melted into one of mock-shock. "Oh my God," he proclaimed, "A pregnant cheerleader! Haven't seen one of 'em since high school! Now, how many kids is it for you and the Whelp? Ten? Nineteen?"

Before Cordelia could think up a clever retort, the teachers began herding the students into the instructional area. Promising a trip to the toy store after school, Xander finally made Meredith get up and follow her classmates. Most of the mothers, and some of the fathers, were now in tears.

Holden materialized from nowhere. He had tried to go home with some other family, but had been sent back to his own parents.

"Mama? Candy," he demanded once he made it back.

Rolling her eyes, Cordelia picked up the boy and tossed him in the air, catching him quickly.

"Good idea, Buddy-boy."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Saying goodbye to the Harris brood, Spike and Buffy made their way to their cars. He had originally thought that picking up Aurora after school would be an easy task, but that was before he realized it meant tons of paperwork, and a background check for the non-family.

The preschool ran from ten to two, Monday through Friday, meaning that there would be no way for Buffy to pick her daughter up because of her noon to six shift at the Wal-Mart, or for Joyce or Tara to watch her. Spike, before anyone else, had volunteered to play babysitter. He'd pick Aurora up after school, and watch her at the library until Buffy got off work at six. The only thing he didn't like about the deal was the pay: he didn't want it, and Buffy wouldn't agree to it unless he accepted.

This wasn't going to be anything new to Spike. He had watched Aurora all summer long, and during the time created a plan to "enrich" her mind. Every day, they would read. Mostly fairy tales, which wouldn't get her confused, although he'd occasionally throw in a piece from Shakespeare or Voltaire. The reading list he'd created was now 200 titles long, and he planned on getting her to finish it by the end of grade school. The time they'd spend together after school would definitely accomplish this.

Glancing over at Buffy, he did not question her red-rimmed eyes. He was also upset that his little Bit, as he called her, was growing up. But, he would never let anyone see him cry.

They stopped in front of Buffy's car, the yellow Honda, and took a seat on the hood, neither one wanting to leave Aurora so alone.

"Gonna be alright, luv?" he asked.

Buffy shook her head. He hadn't seen her this broken up since the night Aurora went missing.

"I just keep hoping I'll go home, and she'll be in her old crib, wearing one of those stupid one-sie pajamas she loved. But, I know she's here, and she's going to have such a great time, and I'm not going to be a big part of this new life." Her voice began to waver, the tears threatening to fall.

"Pet . . ."

"Spike, I just want her to stay little forever," Buffy explained, finally breaking down.

The two sat on the Honda hood for the rest of the morning.

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Comedia- So much love from such a small person. Lemme ask you, when you dine out in Munchkin land, do you get the total bitch rate? And, look who's talking about writing! The only time people read your stuff is when teachers are trying to dissuade their students from writing so horribly. Yeah, I can bring it! C'mon, I'll kick your ghetto booty! Love much! And have many wonderful babies with Diamond Dave.

Chrestomanci- I don't hate you because you are a republican. That's just the icing on top of the big "I Hate You" cake. Angel's so stupid, but at least he didn't bug Buffy for that long on the show. Stupid bastard. Well, when I go back to my homeland, you shall be coming with me, and I will make you serve at my feet, wearing Bashful's ill-fitting poser clothes. Love ya!

Imzadi- Well, it might not be an actual . . . I'm not going to get into it. I'm still developing the idea. But just wait. Oh, and I don't hate republicans. I just hate Chrestomanci because she's a bitch. You go ahead and vote however you want. I'm not stopping you, until I become supreme dictator of the world. And, Angel really singing = ick! But, just pretend that he has a really nice voice, like Harry Connick Jr.

Celestria16- Yeah, it might be a nice thing that Angel's famous, but just think about how big his ego's going to get. Uh huh.

Psychovampgurl- My friend didn't fall in luv. No, they met an untimely end after trying to battle the Slayer. Ha ha ha, I have no life. I hate school so much. Right now, I should probably be studying for my astronomy final, but I don't want to. No one can make me. Let's go on a protest: NO MORE SCHOOL!

FirstAidKid- Thanks for the compliment. The trick for speaking like Glory is to just let the inner bitch out, and let her say whatever she wants. It wasn't that hard, seeing how I'm a bitch 24-7.

You need a life- God, I'm giving up on asking you to sign in. It's not worth it. But the peanut butter . . . mmmmmm. You have good ideas. Be good, and don't make mom and dad hate you more.

Kei Ayame- I love it when I find stories that have a lot of chapters, and I read it all in one sitting. But, doesn't it suck when it takes the people two weeks to write a frickin' new chapter. Grr! So, I'll try my hardest not to do that.