A. N. Well, here we go, yet again. Another flashback. I know you all love those TT ! Anyhoo, I decided to skip the whole nine months ordeal, 'cause I tried it and it was way tacky and you know... processed cheese. So yeah. Oh, and my roommate was asking me when all of this takes place, and my initial answer was "who knows?", but it got me to thinking, and I think it's credible if I say two years after NFA.
A. N. 2.This is to spbangel and my roommate who wanted a little more spuffy action. This will be the last of it, as this is people, a fuffy fic. CBscifiJUNKY and all the rest of you guys: You guys are fucking awesome. So without further ado, Round 4.
I'm staring at my bowl of Alpha bits, trying to accomplish the impossible and spell the name of the demon Faith and I encountered last night when Faith walks into the kitchen. She opens the door to the fridge and pours herself a glass of orange juice, before sitting on the counter near the sink. She guzzles the whole thing down before breaking the looming silence.
"You're late."
My nose scrunches up as I look up at the clock hanging on the wall.
"I don't start till ten."
Faith frowns and shakes her head in despair.
"B. We've been rockin' the kasbah almost every night." She says. "You're late."
Oh. Right. That.
"I know." I say, and look down to my bowl of floating letters. I'm missing an E and two K's. "How many N's in Kiennstorpiak?"
She gracefully ignores my attempt to change the subject, and gives me a scolding look.
"How long?" She asks softly, jumping down from her spot on the counter.
I stare at her as she fishes in the breadbox for a few slices of whole wheat.
"Three weeks."
She puts the slices in the toaster and turns to look at me. Her eyes are twinkling with something that I can only interpret as worry. She dives her hands into the back pockets of her ripped jeans and rocks back on the heels of her Blundstones.
"You gonna call the doc for a check up? Can't hurt." She says, staring intently at a magnet on the fridge door that she, no doubt, suddenly finds extremely interesting.
"I'm pregnant." Whoa. Not the way I wanted to tell her.
Well, that was blunt and unexpected. Right on Buffy! Anya, bless her soul, would be proud! You also want to tell her about your plans for the spare bedroom? And how you think you should paint the room green, since green is a nice neutral colour? And how you think a car seat would be safer in the back of a reliable sedan, instead of her motorcycle?
Faith looks like she's about to laugh or break down. Suddenly, the magnet loses her interest, and she smirks in my direction.
"I know I'm good B, but I'm not that good." She says as she takes a seat in front of me as her toasts pop up. She ignores them, and asks the million-dollar question. "Spike?"
"That makes more sense." I manage, trying to lighten the mood of this suddenly gloomy May morning.
Her reaction is slow and extremely hard to decipher.
"You're not joking, are you?" She asks softly.
"No."
My voice is stronger than I expected it and it surprises me. Deep down, I think it surprises her too.
Faith gets up and rounds the table, and makes her way to me. She kneels by the table in front of me, one hand holding onto the table for support, while the other lies in my lap. Her doe eyes are fresh with unshed tears.
"You're pregnant."
"I'm pregnant."
"Did you…?"
"Yep. Three different brands. One answer."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just did."
I cringe as the words escape my lips. Somehow, that wasn't the right thing to answer. Faith looks taken aback, but she quickly shrugs it off.
"What happens to us?" She asks painfully, slowly rising to her feet, clearly thinking about Spike and how he would pierce our stifling relationship. Believe me, I've thought about it too.
I get up with her, grab her by her belt, and pull her close.
"I'm not going anywhere." I sigh softly. Finally, something that sounds right this morning.
Fuck Faith. You're the habit I crave twenty four seven.
Our lips meet softly and the kiss starts off slow, before her tongue forces an entry into my mouth and makes a violent sweep. It's brutal and I know my lips are going to be bruised. She's sending me a warning and I can't help but heed to it. I know it'll only end up cursing me. Don't you ever forget about me, you hear?
"Okay." She breathes when she pulls away. "Okay."
"God Buffy, she's beautiful!" Willow coos, gazing into the glass incubator.
"Yeah. But don't you think she looks like a really old midget?"
Will gives me the stern "you just gave birth, you don't have the right to make odd jokes" look, and goes back to spying on the sleeping beauty in the glass box. My sleeping beauty.
Spike is sitting next to me, on my right, while Faith is sitting with me on the bed, to my left. They're both clenching my hands like they're about to explode. But in a good way.
Willow finally tears her eyes away from the miracle of life, and looks us over. Man, we must look like a pretty bunch.
"The guys will be here soon. You want something before they get here?" She offers. "Hospital cafeteria food is on me."
"I could go for a–" Spike starts, but Faith cuts him off.
"Root beer."
The look he gives her is classic. They've been like this since ever since Spike arrived, two weeks ago. Needless to say, I've been going crazy for those past two weeks.
"Buffy?"
"I'm good thanks."
Will gives us a smirk before leaving the room, and as she leaves, silence sneaks inside.
Faith is staring intently at the incubator, lazily drawing circles inside my palm with her thumb. Spike on the other hand, gets up, and starts to read the cards that accompanied all the flowers I received.
"Which one did Angel send?" I ask.
"The poinsettia." He answers.
"Dude, which one?" Faith asks.
The danger to giving birth near Christmastime is drowning in poinsettias. Red ones, yellow ones, pink ones…
"This one." He says, pointing his finger to the biggest pot of the bunch, complete with little pine trees at the base and an aluminium baby blue helium balloon. Cute, but it's the wrong colour.
Spike then turns to face us and rocks back on his heels. He's antsy. I can't blame him. We've been stuck in this room for over two days now. Short delivery indeed.
"S'okay if I step out for a few? Fresh air." He says.
I nod my head gently and wish I could go outside as well. We're going home tonight, but it's not soon enough.
Spike strides over to my left where Faith is sitting, and leans in to whisper something in her ear. When he retreats, Faith has a look of incredulity on her face.
"No way. You quit, Buster." She scolds.
"C'mon. Jus' one? Please?" He whines.
Okay, now this is just weird.
"Oh for God sake's Faith, just give him a fucking cigarette." I don't know where it came from. I swear.
They both look at me, eyes wide in shock.
"Sorry. I just…" I start, but Faith nods.
"Need to get outta here. I know." She says quietly.
She then digs into one of her coat pockets and fishes out her pack of Lucky Strikes, and throws it to Spike. He nods gratefully, and gives us a warm smile before leaving the room.
The room itself isn't all bad. Apart from the hypoallergenic smell and the pistachio green walls, it's actually almost liveable. My mattress has some buttons that make it go up and down, and it also has a foxy brunette, sitting right next to me. Can't really complain, now can I?
I catch Faith staring at the incubator again, and it finally hits me: I'm a mother. Buffy the vampire Slayer, has finally settled down. She's quit her previous life, found a new one in Lenwood, California, of all places, has a great new job and a new baby girl that she loves to death. And if that doesn't cut the cake, I think she's in love.
"You think of a name yet?" Faith whispers, as if she doesn't want to wake Baby Girl Summers.
Yep. I'm in love with her. I smile. She turns to look at me, and when she catches me smiling, she does the same and snakes her arm around my shoulders.
"I mean, apart from the ones we discussed with Blondie." She adds hastily, the smile still lingering on her lips.
"Well, I kinda like Teresa. I figured, if she came into the world screaming, then we'd name her Darcy. Kinda feisty for a name. But she came so peacefully that I think I want something—harmonious."
Faith nods and kisses my lips softly.
"I have an aunt named Teresa." She says. "She gave me my first and only bike when I turned ten."
I love it when she opens up. It's so… bona fidly real.
"Teresa it is, then."
Faith smiles and shuts her eyes. Just then, Will sneaks her head in the room and looks at us. She gives us an affectionate smile and disappears back into the hall. Faith opens her eyes.
"Teresa." She says, trying it out on her lips again. "Teresa. I like it."
Spike enters the room right after, and tosses the pack back to Faith. She catches it and gets up from her spot next to me.
"My turn." She says, slipping into her jacket, and making a quick exit.
Spike looks at me, and tilts his head a bit. I pat the area where Faith was sitting, inviting him to take her spot, and he nods. He makes his way to Teresa's incubator and carefully rolls it next to my bed. He then sits down next to me.
"Her name is Teresa." I murmur, staring at him from the corner of my eyes.
"That's a beautiful name." He says, and I'm glad he agrees. "She's too quiet to be a Darcy." He adds with a sly smile. "I love seeing you this happy."
A chuckle escapes my lips and I lean my head back against the headboard.
"What happens now, Spike?" I sigh. It's a simple question, but I know the answer is a tad more complicated.
He links his hand with mine and squeezes it gently.
"Harris's got an extra plane ticket, and I'm…"
"Not done learning?"
He shows me a small smile and nods gently. I still can't believe that he spends all his time with Xander and Riley. God, what a trio they must make.
"I will help thought. Financially, I mean." He says, nodding at the same time.
"We don't need to worry about that just yet."
He nods and levels his gaze with Baby Teresa.
"Oh! Her eyes are open." He whispers, and I can tell he's just resting his in hers.
Unfortunately for me, I'm on the wrong side, and I can't see jack shit, and I don't have the strength to get up. Spike seems like he's just coasting. He's staring so intently, that if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was studying and deciphering them.
"Spike?"
Finally, he tears himself away and looks at me in confusion. However, I can also see tenderness and love. His cheeks are wet with tears, and he clears his throat in a manly way, trying to prove that he's not crying.
"Spike?" I ask again.
But the only answer I get is a soft kiss on my lips and a pained "Congratulations." He then gets up and walks out of the room quietly, leaving Baby Teresa and me alone. Okay, what was that all about?
I scoot to the edge of the bed, and peer inside the incubator. Teresa's got her eyes closed again, and she's shaking her little fist in the air. Then her eyes open slowly, and I'm caught staring at them. Just like Spike. And that's when I notice it. Notice the colour of her eyes.
They're not hazel.
They're not blue.
They're dark brown.