Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, yeah — Joss Whedon is awesome and I don't own.

Author's Note: All right, it's baby time! I'm sorry if this chapter is a little weak, I'm trying to bring back my mojo little by little. Note — my favorite part of this whole story is the fact that Angel's carrying Mr. Gordo all over the place. Hehe, it made my day to make him a scared father. Oh, and if ANY of you have ANY questions about this story at all, don't hesitate to ask! On to the story now.

"Hey, Angel? Where'd you go?" I called when I looked up and he was no longer in the room. So, maybe disappearing without a sound wasn't so much a vampire trait as it was an Angel's. I stood upright from leaning over my small suitcase, and pressed my hands against the small of my back with a gentle grunt. One of these days, I swear I was going lean over and not be able to get back up. I looked down at my belly, extending out from me so far that I could no longer see my feet underneath.

I turned and made for the hallway, two blankets draped over my arm. The doctor told me that it should be soon. My due date was September 18th, but that was two days ago. They don't want to take evasive action until I'm a week or more past due. The important thing was that she was healthy and seemingly happy as a clam. Or at least, I think that's what the constant moving around and kicking meant. She was definitely a Slayer's kid — she kicked hard.

"Angel?"

"Up here!" Angel's voice called back down to me. I sighed, looking at the flight of stairs and started to make the long trek up them. Inwardly, I chastised Angel for coming up here so unannounced. Climbing stairs was the most difficult part of my daily routine, so I really avoided doing it more than twice a day — in the morning after waking, and at night when going to bed. Bedtime was a wrestle. I did not like these Marxson-Jinx, Jackson-Ticks – whatever they were called — contractions at all. It was like trying to sleep with a rock with a stomach. I felt a little out of breath when I reached the second floor. Thank god, we didn't have a third.

"You know, I was thinking that we should pack the pink blanket instead of the white," I said while catching my breath. The light was on in the nursery so I headed that direction. When I got there, I saw no one. I rose an eyebrow, now thoroughly confused. "Angel?"

"Right here," Angel's voice came from behind me, loud and clear. I nearly jumped out of my skin, yelping. I spun around to face him.

"Jeez!" I said, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Maybe Xander's idea of a bell wasn't so bad!"

"Sorry," Angel chuckled, and held up a stuffed pig as a sort of white flag. "I was just looking around for this."

I suddenly had this weird feeling. My stomach turned, and I felt the baby move. But not just a little adjustment or a kick, but it felt like she fell down. Then a cramp shot across, doubling me over. Angel caught my shoulder with his free hand, his eyes focused on mine. Then there was this strange sensation of release.

"Ow," I groaned, then looked down where between my feet was a puddle of fluid. "And eww!"

"Are you all right?" Angel's brown eyes were wide with worry and a glimmer of bewilderment.

"Yeah, I think my water just broke," I said, stepping away from the puddle. The cramp didn't go away; instead, it got tighter. I held onto the baby's little dresser for a moment, waiting for it to pass. "I have to change, that was a little gross."

"Change?" Angel's eyes just widened more, if it was possible. "We have to go! I'll — I'll call an ambulance, don't worry about any —"

"Ambulance?" I looked at my husband as though he'd just lost his mind. Well, maybe he did. "So unnecessary. Just let me change and we'll just drive to —"

"Drive? But what if we don't make it in time? Buffy, I may have lived a long time, but I know nothing about birthing children!"

"Hey, why were you looking for Mr. Gordo anyway?" I asked, brushing past him when the cramp let up and headed for our room.

"I figured you might want him in your room — but that's beside the point," Angel grumbled, following me. "Buffy, Buffy, what — are you seriously changing right now?"

"Of course!" I said, kicking the soiled clothing aside and sitting on the edge of our bed to pull on some clean panties and my favorite comfy, stretchy sweats. "You expect me to wear wet clothes to the hospital?"

"But we have to go!" Angel said vehemently.

"Just take it easy, all right? We have time. You should probably call —" I gripped the bedspread as another contraction squeezed my womb. Catching my breath, I continued, "Call Giles."

"Buffy!" Angel crossed the room in one step toward me when he saw the look of pain on my face. He rubbed the top of my arm, his eyes clouded with concern. "That's it – I'm calling an ambulance."

"No!" I argued, struggling to my feet before he could reach the door. "Are you crazy? Here, just help me downstairs and then call Giles."

We got downstairs without incident. Angel flitted back upstairs for the blanket I had dropped in the nursery — the first time for the pink one, the second time for the white one — and ran my suitcase out to the car. The contractions were progressively getting worse. I sat on the ottoman on the edge of the living room, bracing myself against them. Angel ran back upstairs one more time for my favorite pillow before finally calling Giles.

Giles took all of ten minutes to get to our house. Angel was still running around like a chicken with its head cut off — a really disgusting analogy, actually — wondering what else they should bring and still mulling over the idea of calling an ambulance. I would have laughed if my womb didn't currently feel like it was on fire.

"Buffy?" Giles laid a gentle hand on mine. "Is there anything you need?"

"No," I said through gritted teeth. "But could you..?"

At my waved gesture toward Angel, who was currently running around the kitchen with the phone pressed to his ear, looking about as panicked as a rabbit in front of a wolf. Giles nodded, smiled and kissed the top of my head before heading toward Angel as he hung up the phone. "Will you please stop flitting about like a nursemaid and tend to your wife?"

Good man.

"Hey, Will," I said, squeezing her hand as the orderly pushed me down the hall in a wheelchair. I really wanted to walk; at least it distracted me from the vice it felt like my body was in. Willow walked next to me, opposite of Angel. "So d'you remember if it's supposed to hurt this much?"

"Is it too much?"

"Of course it is, Angel," Willow sniffed and shook her head at Angel. "How would you feel if an eight-pound child was trying to push itself out of you?"

"Yeah, I hear it's like all your insides are twisting and colliding and like you're literally being pulled from the inside out," Dawn chimed in from behind the chair.

"Dawn!"

"Yeah, Dawnie," Xander said sympathetically. "Not really sure you're helping with that one."

"Well, you know a lot of women died in my age from —" Xander quickly clapped a hand over Anya's mouth.

"You're not gonna die," Tara leaned in while we all stood stationary in the elevator, then she elbowed her girlfriend. "Tell her she's not gonna die."

"Oh, Buffy, it'll be all right —"

"Don't worry about a thing —"

"This one time, all of her guts really came out —"

"You're doing fine —"

"Just hang tight –"

"Can ALL of you just please shut up?" I exploded when we finally got to my room. I had my arms around my stomach, fighting back the tears. The contractions were longer — way longer, and didn't seem to let up for more than a minute or two. It might have felt like my legs were being sawed off at the thigh if the feeling of a giant fist punching me in the back wasn't there either. I just couldn't stand to hear any more of their banter, no matter how helpful they'd been trying to be.

Angel knelt in front of my wheelchair as the orderlies double-checked the room. He'd been extremely quiet since Giles came to get us. If I was trying not to cry out in pain, I would've laughed at him as he caressed my cheek. He was wearing this lost and confused expression on his face and the wetness in his eyes just might have been sympathy pain, and he was still clutching Mr. Gordo like a scared child.

"Angel," I whined, leaning my head against his wide hand. I clutched at the bottom of my stomach as another contraction began. He kissed my forehead and stayed there until it passed.

"Shh," he hushed, rubbing my cheek with his thumb. "I'm here, all right?"

I looked into his face, trying to steel myself against it and nodded mutely. I gasped as the contraction increased and I leaned my head onto Angel's shoulder, the tears stinging in the back of my throat. He rubbed my back as I continued to whine.

The crew sat in the waiting lobby, down the hall and around the corner from my room. Dawn, Tara, and Willow were all in pajamas as Angel had woken them up to tell them the news. In fact, during the process, Dawn had taken a nap on Tara's lap. Anya and Xander tried to entertain themselves with useless cinema trivia while Giles paced.

Angel didn't leave my side, he praised me and kept whispering to me, just to keep my mind off of what was going on. It was worse than most things I'd ever felt because it didn't stop. Each contraction was worse than the last and I could feel the baby's head pressing against the bottom of the womb, wanting to break free.

When it came to the pushing part, I had taken to vocalizing the pain — loudly. I'd accidentally twisted on of the bars on the birthing bed in my right hand. Tears streamed freely down my sweating face, and I didn't know how much more of this I could take.

"Good, Buffy," the nurse said. "She's starting to crown right now."

The contraction eased for a moment and I was allowed to take in some deep breaths. Angel, who sat behind me, crushing poor Mr. Gordo between us, wiped my forehead and pulled my hair back out of my face.

"Angel," I sobbed. "This hurts really, really bad."

"I know, baby," He murmured, wrapping his arms back around me and placing a kiss at the back of my neck. "It'll be over soon, I promise."

I held his arms to me as the next contraction came, trying to remember my lamaze breathing and pushing down as hard as I could. I thought my head was going to explode, or rather my lower half rip away from the rest of me. Dying was nothing compared to this. But Angel was right all along. A few more of those fist-clenching, flesh-ripping pushes and the doctor grinned up at us.

"You did it!" She said, lifting a tiny, squirming little infant toward me. She laid her right down on my chest and the nurse covered her with a towel and handed Angel another one.

"Oh my god," Angel said near my ear, helping the nurse clean off our baby girl as she clung to me, crying out in the smallest, sweetest little voice I ever heard. I glanced up at Angel to see tears rolling down his own cheeks, but the brightest, warmest smile I'd ever seen on his mouth.

When she was clean and dry, we counted ten tiny fingers along with ten tiny toes. She had the softest tuft of golden blonde hair on her head and chubby rosy cheeks. The rest of the gang came in to see her; Dawn and Anya doing the most cooing and kissing.

"She's all yours," I said as Willow passed on the baby to Angel. She looked incredibly small in his big arms, and Angel froze, obviously afraid of dropping her. I reached up, stroking her baby hair as Angel hesitantly began to bounce her, slowly and carefully. "She's a little angel — just like you."

To that Angel smiled and nodded, watching as she stretched out in his hold, tangling her tiny fists in his shirt. I'd never seen Angel happier in all my life. Not even when he stepped out into the sun that first day he was human, not even when he clasped my hands as we spoke those vows to each other. It was as if he had found his sole reason for existence. He brought his head to hers and kissed her cheek, his fingers stroking her arm. Then he leaned over to me and kissed me full on the mouth before saying, "Thank you."

We named her Angela Joyce. And at barely ten minutes old, she was already the light of our world.