66. The day of labor and the night you were born
So, all the labor exercises flew right out the window in the waves of painful contractions and the even more painful examinations of my cervix in which my OB pushed her whole hand inside to see how far I was dilated.
A few hours later when there was little movement with the dilation, the OB ordered an IV of Pitocin, which apparently made the contractions worse. The weird thing for me was that I couldn’t really differentiate bad pain from other bad pain. All I knew was that it felt like extremely painful period cramps.
Though Spike was originally pacing the room, his limbs rigid with anxiety, he relaxed with something to do for me, which was to let me cling to him through each wave of pain. The pattern of contractions became familiar, and when I felt them coming, I’d tell him, and he was by my side, following my lead – just the way we did on the battlefield.
Sometime in the morning, my sister arrived, and Spike hurried to the waiting room to retrieve her. She burst into the room with wide eyes and hugs and apologies for sleeping in and missing my text. Spike and I filled her in on all that happened, including the wait, and we sent her home for things we forgot like the nursing pillow and spare cover, the camera, blood for Spike, and a few other odds and ends. She also offered to call everyone else and let them know what was happening and planned to pack her own bag. She wanted to stay with us at the hospital if possible. She gave us a little salute and went on her way.
About six hours after the Pitocin was started, my blood pressure started jumping up high with each contraction. No one really explained, but my nurse came in with more frequency to check on me and check my vitals as well as the baby’s more closely. The baby wasn’t in distress, which was a relief. Then, my OB came in and said she thought it might be good for me to have an epidural for the pain.
“W-what pain?” I asked as another wave overcame me. I clutched Spike’s hand with both of mine and dug my heel into his foot, not holding back with the Slayer strength. To his credit, he didn’t make a peep.
My OB put her hands on her hips and said in a gentle voice, “I think you need it. It’s okay to have a break.”
I felt Spike’s fingers on my forearm. “It’s okay, love. Get it epidural if you want it.”
Blinking at him, I asked, “You s-sure?”
His blue eyes were earnest. “Don’t listen to what I rattled off in that sodding labor class. They have something to ease your pain and help with the blood pressure. Take it.”
With that confirmation, I addressed my OB by nodding. “Okay.”
My OB gently grasped my upper arm. “I’ll let them know. The anesthesiologist should be by soon. Hang in there. You got this.”
I gave her a small smile. “Thanks.”
True to her word, the anesthesiologist, a young Asian man, arrived within the hour. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir. It’s a delicate procedure, and she’ll need to hold very still.”
Spike almost pushed back but seemed to weigh the situation. He cupped my cheek and kissed my forehead. “Be right back, love. I’ll be close by if you need me. Say the word.”
He meant literally say the word, he’d hear me, and he’d come running. I leaned into his touch. “Got it.”
When he was gone but close enough for me to still sense his presence, my nurse helped me sit up at the edge of the bed and spread my hospital gown so that my back was exposed. She held me in place so I wouldn’t jerk or move, and I almost teared up because she was so nurturing and gave me the warmest smile. We waited out the next wave of a contraction, and then, the anesthesiologist started the procedure. Within moments, he was done and the epidural was in place. He taped everything down with tape galore, so it wouldn’t move. Then, the nurse helped me ease back into a lying position. No more standing or walking around for me.
Spike hurried back in and before I knew it, the pain was gone. I could watch the monitor to see the wave of the contraction, but there was no pain – none at all. My blood pressure stabilized, too. Spike and I settled into a wait. We watched at the TV, joked with the nurse, and searched for games for our phones. With some sadness, Spike discovered that Plants vs. Zombies, Part 2 had a delayed release in the United States.
Dawn came back mid-wait with her arms full of the requested supplies and some extras, and I sent Spike out to take a break and drink some blood.
“You sure, pet?” he asked, his eyes concerned but also exhausted.
“Go,” I commanded, pointing at the door with one finger and holding up my cell with the other hand. “My dilation is apparently going very slowly.” I’d stayed at seven centimeters for hours. “You need a break, and I can’t watch you eat. I’m so hungry.” My only option was ice chips, and I was incredibly grateful that Spike had forced me to down the nuts and granola before we got to the hospital.
He nodded at my uplifted phone. “Text me.”
“I will. I promise.”
He gripped his thermos of heated blood. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
After he left, Dawn pulled up one of the heavy chairs and set up the laptop on the edge of the hospital bed between us. Then, she fanned out an array of movies, all rom-coms. “Choose one.” She cocked her head and said lightly, “No snacks but laughs?”
I laughed. “Why not?”
She shook the boxes a little, her blue eyes bright. “Which one? Woman-in-labor’s pick.”
My mouth twisted to one side. “Is that my new nickname?”
“Uh huh. Pick.”
I pondered my five choices. “13 Going on 30.”
“But we just watched that last week,” she complained.
“Why’d you bring it then?”
“I dunno. I was being nice.” She sighed. “13 Going on 30.” She pushed the laptop cd-rom open and pressed the disc in with a click.
Soon, we were watching the movie. Right at the part when the girl enters the closet and time travels to the future, Dawn leaned forward in her chair to stare at me with a mix of fear and curiosity in her eyes. “So, um, what’s it like?”
My eyes still on the screen, I asked, “What?”
“Having contractions.”
I picked up my forgotten pain button. “Like really bad period cramps. With this? Like nothing. My legs are all numb and everything.” I glanced at her confused face. “The epidural.”
She sank back into the chair and began watching the laptop screen again. “Spike let you get one, huh?” She knew all about his initial concerns about side effects.
“He did. Well, it was kinda a suggestion from my OB.” I turned my cheek on the pillow.
“Really? Why?”
“Apparently, my blood pressure doesn’t respond well to the pain with the contractions. It goes up a lot, which makes no sense because I’m a Slayer, and while I haven’t been training much, I’m not exactly in poor condition.”
“Oh. Are you okay?” She sounded worried – like worried-about-Mom-dying worried. “Is the baby okay?”
I touched her arm. “I’m okay. The baby is, too. They’re monitoring both of us pretty closely.”
“Want me to find out what they think it is?”
To show her just how un-worried I was, I said, “No. Let’s just enjoy the movie.”
Spike joined us soon after, his face looking less peaked. His anxiety was still there though I could tell he was trying to hide it. “Thanks, Nibblet.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Spike smoothed a cool hand over my forehead, brushing back my hair. “How’re you doing, pet?”
I beamed up at him. “Fine. Join us in re-watching the wonder of ‘13 Going on 30’ that we just watched last week while you were at work?”
“You picked it.” Dawn sounded like the indignant little sister.
I thought Spike would say something sarcastic, but instead, he said, “How can I resist the underdog getting the girl? Took a bit of time traveling into the future, but she wises up faster than some people I know, who are sodding stubborn and shall remain nameless on account of her current state.”
“Hey,” I objected but with a smile.
“Calling it like I see it.” He dragged over a chair so that we were a trio crowded around the movie.
The OB found us with our three heads staring at a tiny laptop screen with the volume on high and 80’s music blaring. Dawn scrambled to pause the movie and shut the computer.
My OB smiled at me, her eyes weary, too, and I wondered how busy her day had been. “How are you doing?”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “Epidural’s working.” I gave her thumbs up.
“Let’s check you out.”
Inwardly, I cringed. Oh, god. Not again.
Moving the laptop into her lap, my sister looked at me and then at the OB and then back to me again.
“She has to check to see how dilated I am in a not so fun way,” I explained.
Dawn paled. Then, she stood to her feet and headed for the door to give me privacy. “I’ll just be. . . out here. Actually, are you okay if George comes to hang out with me? I want to be here, but I also feel weirdly like a third wheel.”
“Totally invite him, but you are in no way bothering me. I want you here.”
She smiled. “Okay.” Then, she slipped out.
“I know it’s no fun. But you shouldn’t feel much this time,” my OB said with an apology in her voice. I really wondered where she found the patience to be so gentle with all of us pregnant women. It was probably her calling. . . like heckling and staking vampires was mine.
Bracing myself as she did the exam, I realized that she was right. It just felt odd and uncomfortable. After several seconds with her rooting around, I asked, “Any difference?”
She removed her hand and stripped off the glove, stepping back from the bed. “Well, we’ve pushed the Pitocin as far as we can. You’re 9 cm or so, but the baby isn’t dropping. We’re going to try to some positions with your legs to see if we can get him to budge and for you to dilate more. What the nurse will do is try a few different things. You’ll be in one pose, and then, she’ll come in and change you around every once in a while. Sound okay?”
“I think so.”
A few minutes later, a quiet nurse came in, not making eye contact, and she brought a funky metal contraption. All business and not as warm as my earlier nurse, she had me turn on my right side and prop my left leg high in the air. When I asked how long I’d be in that position, she said that she wasn’t sure.
After the nurse exited, Spike heard that Dawn was on the phone outside, so we left her to her conversation. I studied Spike, who was checking texts; I was letting him because I couldn’t focus on my own phone. “Weird position they got you in, eh, love?”
“Yeah. Super weird. I couldn’t even feel when she set me up. Is the blood bothering you?” I knew he could smell it.
“Not at all,” he said with sincerity and nodded toward the empty thermos. “My appetite’s sated.”
“Did you hear from anyone?” I tried to peer over at his phone but found that I couldn’t do much of anything. Bending my right arm under my head, I tried to relax.
“Everyone is sending well wishes and good luck. Crystal sent a video of Lil Bit jumping up and down. Want to see?” He already knew the answer was “yes,” so he was adjusting the volume and size. Leah’s happy shrieks filled the room and made us both grin.
Crystal said, “What do you say to Buffy and Spike?”
Leah stopped mid-jump and focused on the camera in Crystal’s hand, “Good luuuuck!” Then, she twirled in a happy circle, her white-blonde hair fanning out around her.
“Aww! She’s adorable. Tell her ‘thank you’ for me.”
“Will do, pet.” He fired off a brief text. “Rupert and Red are in the air, headed our way.”
I lifted my head. “What? Isn’t Willow busy packing?” Instead of buying out our lease, Willow and Oz had taken it over and were scheduled to move in next week.
He lifted an eyebrow at me. “Oz texted. He didn’t mention anything about packing. Assuming she’s just fine with coming and that she wants to be here for you.”
“Oh.” I plunked my head back down on the pillow. “Is work okay with you being here?”
Now he lifted both eyebrows. “They’d better be.”
I smiled at him, tried and failed to shift my leg. “This is way uncomfortable.”
“Worse than. . . you know?” He licked his lips, smirked, and gave me one of those bedroom-eyes looks that drove me crazy – usually when I wasn’t in labor or heavily pregnant.
I rolled my eyes playfully at him. “Yes. Way. At least there was pleasure in the other position.”
He leaned over and kissed the tip of my nose and then dipped close for a gentle kiss. “No pressure for a while, pet. You know that, right?” He was reassuring me about the sex thing again. He needed to stop that.
“I’m banking on my Slayer healing powers stepping up their game.” I thought of something. “Though, there’s no way I’m having sex with Giles in the next room because that would be majorly weird. We have a bigger house, but it’s not that big.”
Spike pressed both lips together. “Is he going to be here that long?”
“You know? I have no idea, but we’re going to have lots of helpers. Lots. Between Dawn and Giles and Willow, we’re going to be good to go.”
“Not a bad problem to have.” Now even Spike was wearing his concerned expression, his eyes round as saucers, no doubt thinking about the house in Sunnydale at the end. There was no way it was that bad but still. “We’re going to have to kick them out sometimes.”
I giggled. “We’ll send Giles to chaperone George and Dawn on their dates and Willow to go relax at one of Oz’s gigs. At the same time. Coordinated family alone time.”
He glanced up at the ceiling in thought. “Operation: Have Some Bloody Time to Ourselves?”
“Operation: HSBTO…not exactly a good acronym, but it’ll do – ahh, ohhhh.” The pain rolled in again. The epidural was wearing off, and I hadn’t even realized it because we were so busy chatting. An alarm went off, indicating my blood pressure was shooting up again.
Spike was on his feet. “Pet, you okay? Contractions?”
I held out my hand, and he let me grasp it. “Contractions again,” I admitted. “I’m fine.”
The nurse barreled into the room and checked some readings on me and the baby. “Looks like you need an update on your epidural.”
“Y-yeah,” I managed.
“After that, we’ll get you into a new position.” She was still not overly nurturing.
A few minutes later, the anesthesiologist was back with the nurse, and Spike left the room to fill Dawn in. The update was quicker and easier, and the nurse then swung my legs around without really holding onto them properly. It was weird to see my legs bending in ways that usually had some pushback. Another contraction reared its head, and there was no pain.
Spike and Dawn re-joined me, and we commenced with watching the movie. It was a nice distraction. As the credits were rolling, Spike brought out the cards and dealt us a hand of poker. After several rounds in which Dawn kept beating both of us, she received a text from George that said he was in the hospital. She kissed my cheek and practically ran out the door. I couldn’t help but grin at her happiness.
She dashed back into the room a moment later, saying, “I almost forgot!” She rummaged around in the extra bag of supplies from home, which was on the chair across the room. Pulling out the framed photo of Mom, her, and me that she must have saved from Sunnydale, she plunked it on the rolling tray table and pushed it my way. She made purposeful eye contact with me and said with utmost sincerity, “I thought Mom should be here.” My eyes filled with tears, and then, hers did, too. She wrapped her arms around my neck. “I love you. Don’t die on me having this baby, okay?”
I emitted a half-tearful laugh. “Promise.” I glanced over at Spike, who was watching with a smile on his face. I addressed him. “And I thought you were the only worry wart.”
“You know I’m not,” he said with all seriousness.
“He’s not,” Dawn confirmed. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll be right here, not having a baby,” I gestured at my legs, “and in an extremely awkward position that I’d rather George not see.”
She laughed and darted out the door again.
The OB dodged my sister and smiled as she came in. “Need to check you again.”
I groaned.
“I know it sucks. You’re doing great. I’ll try to make it quick,” she said and motioned to the nurse, who had followed her into the room. They helped rearrange my legs, and then, my OB performed the exam. I watched with expectation, my chest tight with anxiety, and Spike looked just as eager. My OB was serious. “No change.” She pulled back, straightened my hospital gown and the sheets, and left a hand on my knee. Her tone was kind. “This isn’t an easy decision, but you’re not dilating past 9 cm despite the Pitocin, and the baby’s still not dropping. Your blood pressure is not doing well with the contractions, so I’m recommending a C-section.”
Spike reached for my hand, pushing his fingers between mine and squeezing at the tears filled my eyes. So, that was it. No natural birth for me.
As a tear spilled over my cheek, she asked, “What’s going on in your head?”
One shoulder went up. I honestly couldn’t make sense of the jumble of emotions that were washing over me, so I picked something out of the wave and said it aloud. “I’m scared.”
“It makes sense that you’re scared. I want you to know that I’ve done this many times, and we’re going to take good care of you and that baby of yours.” Then, when she saw that I was sort of listening, she explained the details of what would happen next. All I could remember was that they would be giving me an antibiotic and that she had to find another doctor to help her.
She was waiting, and it took me a moment to realize she was waiting for my response. “Okay. S-sounds good.”
My OB addressed Spike. “Dad. You’re going to come with me, so we can get you ready. You can come back in after that.”
Spike’s jaw clenched momentarily, and his hand became tighter in mine. I could tell he was thinking about protesting again, but his eyes flicked my direction, and he softened. “All right.” He pressed a firm kiss on my temple. “I’ll be right back.”
“Says you and Dawn.” I was nervous for him to be gone even for a moment.
“I’ll fill your sis in, too,” he assured me.
“Thank you.”
“It’ll be just the two of you in the operating room,” the OB warned.
I nodded. “Got it.” I was now very glad George would be with my sister.
Once Spike and my OB left, the nurse said she would be back with an antibiotic in a few minutes. The next series of events were a blur. Spike came back in with my sister, who gave me another fierce hug for good luck, and we both teased him about the blue scrubs bringing out the blue in his eyes. The nurse unhooked me from most of the machines, and the anesthesiologist came by with the antibiotic, which he injected into my IV after asking if I had allergies to medications. Spike overheard some bustling in the hallway, and he moved toward the door to listen, reporting that he heard them arguing about a missing doctor and having to call another person in to help my OB. The anesthesiologist was the angriest, saying something about how they only had an hour to start surgery after the antibiotic was administered.
“I’m not too keen on this, pet,” he whispered after he explained what he overheard.
“We said we’d go with the flow, remember?” I said, trying to encourage myself, too.
“When we discussed the flow, it didn’t involve your team getting into a throw down before delivering our son.” Seeing Spike frown with a scrub cap on his head made me giggle. He scowled and crossed his arms. “It’s not funny.”
“That’s not funny, but you are with your blue scrubs over your black. . . everything.” He even had blue booties on over his Doc Martens.
He smirked at me. “I’d wear anything for my family.”
“Anything, huh?” I tapped my lip with my index finger.
“Don’t get any bloody ideas.”
“Filing that little tidbit away for future use, and I’ll probably tell Dawn. That should make it even more – ”
“No,” he said so firmly that I giggled, the sound a mix of humor and anxiety. He was way too easy.
I opened my mouth to tell him so when the nurse arrived again with a helper. “Time to go,” she said with the same simple blandness she’d shown me all evening.
Then, they whisked me out of the room and down the hall so quickly that I was surprised that I didn’t fall out of the bed. Spike kept up, his jaw set. As we reached the operating room, I heard the fighting. This time, my OB sounded pissed, and she was yelling at someone about getting there and now. I didn’t get more than that before I was suddenly in the room where my son would be born.
Spike had to wait outside while several people in the room set me and everything up. There was a blue curtain, so I didn’t have to see myself getting cut open and a blanket covering my upper body to keep me warm.
The anesthesiologist was a familiar face, and he explained what he was doing in a very caring tone before shouting, “We have five minutes to cut her!” He meant according to some standards I’d never heard of.
I didn’t even have time to feel anxious because my OB and another doctor, as well as Spike, joined us. Spike’s hand immediately found mine, and I felt relief. There was continued bustle and some things done to me on the other side of the blue shield.
“Thirty seconds, people!” the anesthesiologist bellowed.
The whole room felt thick with tension, and I was holding my breath as my OB commented that she was making the incision. I felt nothing. . . no pressure, no pain, and then, all of a sudden. . .
A cry filled the room, and I thought, “That’s our son.” Spike squeezed my hand and then let go, and the anesthesiologist said I did good. All I could focus on were the sounds of my son’s cries. Now, I wished I could see everything.
Time spilled through my fingers like drops of water, and then, before I knew it, there was our son, wearing a pink-striped cap, his face confused and red and wrinkled. . . and perfect. The nurse placed him on my chest, and I felt his little body against me, alive and real and warm. He was here! I couldn’t say a thing, just closed my eyes and focused on his tiny weight. I felt a cool hand brush my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to find Spike’s bright blue eyes shiny with tears near mine.
“Oh, pet, you were brilliant. He’s beautiful.” With feather-light fingers, Spike touched the baby’s head, and then, he leaned over and kissed me on the mouth.
The anesthesiologist offered to take our picture, and Spike passed over his phone. I didn’t remember smiling, not really. All I knew was that even though I had no idea what happened next, our son was here, and our lives would never be the same.
67. The morning after you were born
My eyes opened an immeasurable amount of time later. Blinking, I took in the new hospital room, the monitors, the warmth on my legs, and the IV. Dawn was a sleeping lump on an uncomfortable looking cot to my right, her head denting the pillow.
When I turned my head to the left, I saw that the blinds were shut tight, the hint of the sunrise peeking through the cracks. But the potential danger wasn’t what made me hold my breath. Spike was lounging back in the chair next to me, his arms cradling the tiny bundle of our sleeping son. My vampire was gazing at the life in his arms with such gentle awe. I didn’t want to interrupt the beautiful image of them together by speaking, so I watched them.
Spike, of course, knew I was awake and spoke first, his voice a deep rumble, his usual vibrating energy subdued and calm, his preternatural angles softened. “He’s so perfect. So tiny.” He brushed a finger over the baby’s forehead. “So soft and new.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. “He is.”
“How are you feeling, pet? They said you lost a lot of blood with the surgery.” His blue eyes met mine. I could tell he was tired and worried by the strain in his eyes, but beyond the exhaustion and anxiety was something akin to contentment.
Dropping my eyes, I scanned my body. “Tired. Warm. Good. These things wrapped around my legs are so cozy and warm. And the pain meds must be phenomenal.” I regarded Spike again. “I don’t remember much of anything. It’s all a blur.”
“You don’t remember feeding him,” the corner of his mouth went up just a fraction, “or yelling at the nurse to bring you food?”
My eyebrows drew together. “I was hungry. You try not eating for over 24 hours.”
The baby stirred in Spike’s arms. “I think he’s waking. Want to try to feed him?”
I couldn’t wait to feel the weight of our son in my arms again. I fumbled around the controls on the bed and pushed an up button so that I slowly rose. Shifting around, I got comfortable, and Spike held the baby while he passed me the breastfeeding pillow. I snuggled it awkwardly around my waist and then accepted the swaddled baby into my arms. Spike made sure I had hold of him before letting go, and the baby moved more but didn’t cry.
I took the moment to study baby Asher. The first thing I thought was that his name didn’t seem to fit him. . . not yet. The second thing I noticed, I said out loud. “He has so much hair. And it’s darker than I thought it would be.” I let my fingers touch the soft strands.
“I had darker hair on my father’s side of the family, and your sister has dark hair,” Spike whispered. “Not sure why he has so much though.”
“The heartburn thing is true?”
The baby let out a louder cry, and I adjusted the hospital gown, baring one breast and bringing the baby’s mouth close to my nipple. The nurse had shown me, but like all the other memories, it was a bit blurry. I struggled to adjust the baby’s head just right to get his mouth over the nipple and the feeling of the latch eluded me. I glanced at Spike in panic, and though he looked confused, too, he helped me adjust the pillow and the baby and my breast until at last, I felt a tug and the baby began suckling. Relieved, I awkwardly held the same position in case I knocked him off somehow.
Minutes passed and then anxiety got the best of me. “How do I know if he’s getting anything? And oh, my god, how am I going to do this with Giles in the house?”
Spike was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching us with the same soft expression. “You smell different; it’s the milk.”
“So, I smell like a cow?”
He chuckled. “No, pet. You smell different is all. It’s not a bad smell. Kind of sweet. Cows. . . don’t smell good.” I wanted to know how he knew what cows smelled like because the way he said it made it sound like there was a story behind it, but I’d ask later. Right now, I was focused on the baby. “And he’s getting plenty. Hear that noise he’s making? And see his throat moving? He’s swallowing, pet. Remember what we learned? He doesn’t need much. Not yet.”
“He has a tiny stomach. I remember.” I watched the baby for the signs that Spike had pointed out. Satisfied that he was right, I relaxed back a little, and miracle of miracles, the baby stayed latched. “What about Giles? I can’t be popping out a boob all over the place when he’s there. How come I didn’t think about that before we agreed for him to come?”
Short hair tousled, Dawn sat up abruptly, rubbing an eye as the blanket fell off her shoulder. “W-what’s happening? What time is it? What about Giles?”
“Morning, pigeon. Buffy’s fretting about feeding the baby in front of Rupert.”
She shifted her body in our direction, taking care not to topple the cot. “Oh. That’ll be a little awkward, but I’m sure Giles has seen breasts before. Jenny’s. Mom’s. That other lady that didn’t stay long. What was her name?”
“Olivia. And I’m actually not one hundred percent sure he saw Mom’s.” I winced at the memory of what I heard from Giles and my mom’s thoughts. “They did it in the middle of the street on a cop car. Under the influence of the mystical candy stuff.”
“Didn’t make time to undress then, eh, pet?”
“Can we not talk about Mom and Giles having sex?” I looked around the room for a clock. “How much time has it been?”
Spike pulled his phone out of his pocket. “No idea, but it’s been enough time to switch. And you brought it up.”
“No, I didn’t! Dawn did!” I carefully moved the baby around and brought out my other breast. Spike helped again, but he needed to do less, and the latch was achieved with greater grace.
“I did,” Dawn confirmed and yawned, running her fingers through her hair. “My whole point was that Giles has seen breasts. He’s not going to freak and run out of the house if he accidentally sees yours.”
“How do you know? He’s Mr. Proper British Guy.”
Spike shook his head. “Never thought I’d say this, but your Watcher – ”
“Has grown on you and now you’re done trying to get a rise out of him?”
He suddenly stared at the sheet covering my legs. “Maybe. Maybe not. If the moment’s right, he’s still an easy mark.”
Dawn swung her legs over the edge of the cot, her eyes sparkling. “Spike is total besties with Giles.”
He looked down his nose at her. “Now, I wouldn’t go that far, Nibblet.” I swear if he could blush, he’d be bright red, and I decided to rescue him for now.
“I should have bought one of those breastfeeding cover thingies,” I lamented. “But I thought it would be too hot.”
“That’s the beauty of online shopping,” Dawn said, holding up her phone. She punched around on the phone before bringing it over to me. “You still have Babies ‘R’ Us gift cards, right?”
“Yeah!” I peered at the browser she was showing me; there were lots of breastfeeding covers. “I should order a couple. Pick me some?”
“Sure thing. I’ll see if there are any in-store, too, and get them for you.” She straightened her wrinkled peasant blouse. “I’m a bit wrinkly, but I guess there’s a benefit to sleeping in your clothes.”
Dawn washed her face and brushed her teeth in the bathroom. Right as she was leaving, Giles and Willow showed up at the same time. And of course, I was still breastfeeding. Dawn gave me a pointed look, and I could tell she was holding back a laugh. Damn it.
Luckily, Asher was finished with his meal and had popped off on his own. As I covered up, he yawned, making a small sound in the back of his throat right before his mouth closed, and I swear it was the cutest thing I’d ever seen or heard. I couldn’t wait for him to do it again.
Willow squealed, realized how loud she was, and lowered her volume to a small whispery “Ooo.” She peered over at him from the side rail of the hospital bed, her fingers curling around the smooth metal. “Oh, Buffy. He’s adorable.”
“Thanks,” I said with a small smile.
“How are you, Buffy?” Giles asked, hanging back a little with a pensive expression on his face.
“I’m good. Tired. I imagine you are, too.” He had to have hopped on the first flight and traveled like a madman to get to New Orleans.
“Yes, but well worth the lack of sleep.” His smile was gentle.
“Want to hold him?”
The pensive expression became one that hinted at fear. “I don’t know.” He paced toward the sink. “I should wash my hands.”
I tried to sit forward and winced. Pain meds would be needed soon. Spike reached over and scooped up the baby with tenderness. As Giles dried his hands off, Spike brought the now sleeping baby to him. Giles held out his arms, and Spike eased Asher in place, moving his hand from the baby’s head last. Asher was nestled safely against Giles’s body.
“See. You got him.” I beamed.
Giles couldn’t take his eyes from the baby. “Yes, yes. It would seem that I do.” There was reverence in his voice. He slowly searched around him. “I should probably sit.” Spike grabbed his chair and angled it around, and Giles sank slowly down as he continued to soak in the tiny baby’s appearance. “I assume he’s got all his fingers and toes.”
“Counted them myself.” There was pride in Spike’s voice.
“Ah, good then.”
Willow squatted next to Giles, so she could watch the baby sleep, too. “I can’t tell who he looks like.”
“Well, Buffy obviously,” Spike said right away.
Willow frowned stubbornly at him. “You know he’s yours, too. Pratt genes are in this little guy’s DNA.”
Spike softened. “I know.”
“Have you decided whether you’ll circumcise him?” Giles asked.
Spike and I made eye contact, and I shrugged, letting him take this one. We’d had a few heated debates about it after the birthing and newborn care class. “We’ve decided to.”
Spike had initially been against it; he had been circumcised as a young child, but no one ever told him why. He said that it was probably due to inaccurate beliefs about STDs and masturbation at the time. Being circumcised had made him different than his classmates in school, and it was my suspicion that he had probably been bullied, which at least partly explained how he described himself when he was alive and how he’d handled being made into a vampire. It was also my suspicion that Angel and Dru had made fun of him for his difference, too. This made my heart ache for him.
I’d done some research online and talked to my OB, but the rationale was still confusing for me. There were some horror stories online about men who had complications from not being circumcised, but there was uncertain evidence that circumcision helped anything. In the end, our fights/discussions had boiled down to a yes for circumcision, mostly so Asher could look like Spike and prevent anything awful from happening. We couldn’t prevent terrible things from happening in his life, but this was one small thing we could do.
“For a lot of reasons,” I added with a tone that said that was all there was to say.
Giles was unfazed. “You should do what makes sense to you.”
It hit me that this was not what I expected from Giles regarding Spike, regarding Spike and me and us raising a family. The memory of Giles wanting to stay blind to our love, and the memory of him wanting Spike dead were still so powerful in my mind. And yet, he’d championed us trying to have a child via a spell and bought us a house, and he was here now to help and support and love. It was strange, but I wanted so much to embrace it wholeheartedly and without the belief that maybe it would turn around again. Maybe someday I would, and maybe I should accept it for what it was now.
Deciding to change the subject, I asked, “Willow, how’s the moving going?”
“Great. Movers are scheduled, and Oz says he has it all under control, but he is way too laid back sometimes. You know what I mean? And oh. You don’t need to worry about any of this! You just had a baby.” She waved her arms at the room. “Your space of Zen.”
I snorted. “Well, when I get to go home, I’m hoping to find a space of Zen. Like in my own comfy bed. With the crying baby, of course.”
“With the sweetest, cutest, most adorable baby.” Willow squatted down again, gazing with adoration at the baby.
“A baby who needs a nappy change.” A wave of panic crossed over Spike’s face. Diapering and re-swaddling his own baby were apparently very intimidating.
Giles lowered his head and sniffed at the baby’s midsection. “Oh, yes. Good call, Spike.”
“I’ll just page the nurse.” I hunted around under the sheets for the button. “The swaddle they use is really confusing.” Well, it’d been confusing in the middle of the night after the birth anyway, and I didn’t want a repeat of our class. “We need to break out the Velcro ones.” I pushed the button, and a low dinging sound pinged in the distance.
The nurse came right in, her bright brown eyes and wide smile full of positive energy and warmth, a stark contrast to my second labor nurse. “Yes? What can I do for you?”
Giles held the sleeping baby up just slightly. “Nappy change needed.”
“We actually mostly were wondering if you could help us re-swaddle until we can locate the swaddles we brought,” I piped up.
The nurse gently picked up our son and brought him over to the hospital bassinet. “Of course, I can help with that, and I can help again later, too. Once we get your catheter out, I’ll help you stand so you can watch.”
“I’d like to help,” Spike said, watching the baby like a hawk.
The nurse smiled with patience; she must see this kind of protectiveness all the time. “Why don’t you hand me a diaper and some wipes?”
As my vampire nervously went to assist, I was struck by how lucky I was to have a father so willing to jump in. Come to think of it, that’s the way he’d always been – jumping into the fray with me even when I didn’t want him to. Giles was right; I relied on him and had for as long as I could remember. I wasn’t going to take that for granted.
68. The night of Auntie Willow and Uncle Oz’s wedding
Dawn, Giles, and I arrived at Melrose Mansion after the sun was fully set. Wrapped in his swaddle and a light muslin blanket, baby Asher slept in my arms. Giles was wheeling the stroller with the infant car seat attached, so I could lay the baby down if I got tired of holding him. I couldn’t imagine that. I’d gotten used to the little guy cuddled up against my chest when Spike wasn’t around. I guess you could say the bond was strong now.
“Wow,” Dawn breathed, looking all around the beautifully lit first floor of the mansion that Willow and Oz had rented on the edge of the French Quarter.
We were all staying the night there after the ceremony. The mansion had a California flavor in the midst of the French city, and Willow thought it was perfect because it reminded her of home. She’d shown me photos, and the pool in the backyard was picturesque and the perfect place for the ceremony and reception.
Somehow, the photos hadn’t done it justice. The inside of the mansion was spacious and immaculate with light colors and beautiful modern furnishings, and I could glimpse the twinkling strings of white lights through the windows overlooking the backyard.
I hadn’t seen Spike all day because he’d been working on making sure the bar at the mansion was fully stocked with the special liquor, beer, and wine Oz and Willow wanted, and once he was at the mansion, he’d sorta been stuck because of the sun.
Giles slung the overstuffed diaper bag into the car seat and straightened his suit jacket and tie. “It’s a lovely space.”
“It’s gorgeous. Thanks for your help, Giles.” Asher shifted in my arms but kept sleeping, so I said, “I’m going to go check on Willow. Want to come with, Dawnie?” Willow had asked me to be her maid of honor, and I really had fallen down on the job. She said it didn’t matter because I’d just had a baby, but I had a few tricks up my sleeve that I was excited about.
“Sure!” Dawn was excited to see Willow in her fitted wedding dress; she and Willow had gone dress shopping together, and they’d enthusiastically included me through FaceTime.
I went to try to search through the diaper bag, but the baby opened his mouth and then made a little smacking noise, so I stopped, waiting until he settled in again. Giles and Dawn both watched with me. Then, I asked my sister, “Mind grabbing the bag?”
“Not at all,” she whispered back, heaving the diaper bag over her shoulder.
“I’ll just find. . . Spike,” Giles said more to himself than us before parking the stroller out of the way and wandering off toward the back of the mansion. He had stayed with us for a month after the baby was born, and he and Spike’s bond had grown even stronger. I’d wake up in the middle of the night with my breasts full of milk to find them watching old British television shows together while taking turns snuggling the sleeping baby.
Dawn and I found Willow in the room designated for the bride to get ready. Carrie was with her, helping her arrange a short veil around her shoulders. My best friend studied herself in the mirror. Her white dress was simple and form-fitting with lace sleeves and a cinched, corset-like back that enhanced the appearance of her waist and hips. Her hair was in soft, loose curls, and I could tell she’d been growing it out because the length fell to just past her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed, and her green eyes were glowing with joy and perhaps a tiny bit of nervousness. . . well, maybe a lot of nervousness. She smiled brightly when she saw us in the mirror and turned, immediately focusing on the baby.
Her finger stroking the edge of the blanket, she sighed in happiness. “I still can’t believe how perfect he is.”
I softened and studied my son. “Yeah. He’s really such a sweet, easy baby.” He’d just turned three months old and was now sleeping through the night. The first time he hadn’t woken up at two or three in the morning, Spike went into an absolute panic and raced to peer into his crib and check his vitals with all his enhanced senses.
“He doesn’t even really cry except when he’s hungry,” Dawn agreed.
“That’s because his daddy anticipates his every need. Benefit of being a vampire.” I wasn’t sure why, but my milk hadn’t come in well, maybe due to the C-section, and we’d had to supplement with formula after a week on the pediatrician’s recommendation. I was sad that I wasn’t producing enough and felt a bit like a failure when Asher lost too much weight, but Spike reassured me that he could smell the milk and that the baby was getting nutrition from me. This had alleviated a lot of my fears, and Willow had come up with a recipe for lactation cookies with brewer’s yeast. The cookies were really helping increase my supply. Breastfeeding was hard work. No one told you that during the newborn care class, and no one tells you how hungry it makes you. I swear I was hungrier while breastfeeding than during the whole pregnancy.
I hugged Asher closer, relishing the warmth of his little body. I studied Willow. “How are you doing? Nervous? Excited? You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Willow said brightly. “I’ve been feeling kinda anxious, but not in I’m-worried-about-my-future-with-Oz kinda way. I set up wards around the mansion. George is overseeing those, so I don’t have to worry about them. And although it’s probably bad luck, I’ve been in touch with Oz all day. Neither of us is freaking out or ditching anyone. He keeps sending me funny texts – photos of Devon in silly poses while they get ready.” Devon was going to be Oz’s best man and was going to DJ the evening’s reception.
I could tell from her eyes and the wrinkle between her brows that she was more nervous than she was letting on, so I reassured her, “First of all, you don’t have to be anxious. We haven’t broadcast the wedding to a bunch of demons, and you haven’t been wreaking vengeance for over a thousand years. So, the odds of someone coming out of the woodwork to hurt you are slim. And second, you’re a lot older, sure of yourself, and know what you want. You’re not barely twenty or twenty-one and just starting out in life. Neither is Oz. Third of all, you guys have been through a lot together and based this relationship on friendship. You have the whole package. . . love and passion. And you’re best friends.”
She bit her lip, the tension in her eyes easing and her shoulders lifting a little. “You’re right.”
Dawn, of course, knew exactly where Willow’s fears lay, but Carrie had no idea the subtext of the conversation. Still, she had a thought. “I know there’s a lot I don’t know, but I do know a little about Xander and Anya. Buffy’s right. The way Oz looks at you and the way you are with one another. . . I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“See. You don’t,” Dawn added, pulling the diaper bag off her shoulder. She glanced at me. “Gifts?”
“Oh, yes!” I agreed. Presents would distract my friend.
Dawn pulled out the small bag I’d thrown the gifts into earlier and presented it to Willow. She blushed and accepted the package. Pulling out the tissue, she found the powder blue garter first.
She laughed. “What’s this?”
“That’s your something blue and new. You didn’t have one, and it’s a tradition or so I’ve heard,” I explained. I hadn’t been to many weddings.
Carrie helped Willow pull it on over her sparkly sandal. Then, Willow tugged it up under her dress. “It’s perfect.” She brought the small box out next. “What’s this?”
I grinned. “Your something old and borrowed.”
Willow tilted the box lid back. “Ohhh. They’re beautiful.” She touched one of the simple white freshwater pearl studs.
“They were my high school graduation present from Mom. Her mom gave them to her at her high school graduation.” The earrings were one of the only things we’d saved from Sunnydale beside photos.
“Much better than these cheap sparkly things.” She gestured at the rhinestone earrings she was wearing. “Thank you.” Her eyes suddenly welled with tears.
That was not the reaction I was expecting. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I’m so grateful for all of you.” She glanced at all three of us and even the baby. “You’re my family. But part of me wishes my mom was here.” Now that, I totally understood. Even though Willow’s mom was awful toward her, this was one of those milestones we’d talked about. She hadn’t heard from her parents since they’d ditched her in Sunnydale during the year of the First Evil.
Dawn swooped in and gave Willow a long hug, and I took her hand and squeezed. Asher really was a baby roadblock to hugs. I was still trying to figure out how to maneuver with him in my arms.
“Makes total sense to me,” Carrie said softly. “My mum hasn’t been in my life in a long time either.”
Asher made a snuffling sound in his sleep. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy’s not going anywhere,” I whispered.
Willow laughed through her tears, which she was trying to blot up with a tissue before her mascara ran. Then, she touched the baby’s soft head. His initial dark hair was falling out, so he was half-bald. “We’re going to make sure he’s surrounded by love.”
“Um, guys, what time are we supposed to be out there?” Dawn asked.
We’d run a little late gathering up stuff for the baby. Really, it was so hard to leave the house now. I swear that I packed everything but the kitchen sink in case we needed it for the evening. The pack-and-play was in the car for our first overnight away from home, too.
“Oop.” Willow sniffed and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Now.” She pulled off her earrings and slipped on the pearls. “They really are perfect.”
Then, we hurried out toward the pool area where the ceremony was taking place. Xander was grinning by the door, waiting to walk Willow down the aisle. Dawn eased the baby out of my arms, and Carrie handed us bouquets of flowers. Then, my sister and Carrie headed to join the guests. I enveloped my friend in the big hug I’d wanted to give her earlier. Xander joined us, wrapping his arms around us both.
Drawing back, I smiled at my two closest friends from Sunnydale. “I love you both. And I’m so happy for you, Willow. Oz is a keeper. Let’s go get you married.”
“Love all around.” Xander kissed the redhead’s temple.
Willow returned my expression as Xander took her arm. “I love you both, too, and I know how lucky I am.”
Music began playing – not the bridal march or Pachelbel Canon, but some beautiful old song that one of the witches in the coven from Falls Church wrote and was performing. That was my cue, so I headed out the doors to the small set up by the pool. As I meandered toward the witch, Stacy, who would marry Willow and Oz, I smiled and took in the guests. I glimpsed Katie, Liz, Kishan, Michael, Carrie, Crystal, Leah, and Alex. Dawn was sitting between George and Giles, who had relieved my sister of the baby. There were also friends of Willow and Oz who had traveled in from out of town. I couldn’t wait to meet them all. I didn’t see Spike but didn’t let myself frown. I knew he was here somewhere. I felt his reassuring presence in the familiar tingle at the back of my neck.
Dressed in navy tuxes, Oz and Devon were already standing near Stacy. They all smiled at me, and I nodded at Oz before taking my place on the left. The music shifted then to a lilting happy tune that heralded Willow’s entrance. I couldn’t help but glance between her and Oz and grinned at how they stared at one another with such love and adoration. When Willow reached the front, she embraced Xander, who moved to take a seat next to Carrie. Then, Willow took Oz’s hand in hers, and he kissed her cheek.
When the couple was situated, Stacy began the ceremony. There were the traditional vows and a devotion spell and a wrapping of hands, and to be honest, I didn’t pay attention to the details – just the beauty of my friends loving each other and making a lifelong commitment. I had no doubt that they were both going to be very happy.
The ceremony ended with an exchange of rings, and in the one bit of Jewish tradition, Oz stomped on a cloth-covered glass with his right foot, shattering it.
We all shouted, “Mazel tov!” as they both grinned at one another and kissed, her hand caressing his cheek.
As everyone applauded, I scanned the crowd, searching for Spike. I knew he was there, but I couldn’t find him.
Willow caught my pensive expression and held her hand up to silence the crowd, and Oz motioned everyone to sit back in their chairs. As everyone quieted, I glanced at my friend in confusion, but she merely said quite loudly and with faux irritation and a half-frown/half-smile, “Buffy’s looking for Spike!”
With a broad grin on his face, Xander popped up in the audience, “Right! She needs him.”
“Wait. What?” I was so confused. This was so not about me. This was about Willow and Oz. What was happening?
Willow beamed at me; she didn’t seem to be able to fake feelings anymore. “Well, fine! Why doesn’t she just go marry him?”
Spike appeared from the reception area, wearing his own navy tuxedo, something I’d never imagined him wearing, but he looked so handsome, I didn’t care. His blue eyes found and held mine, and he smiled at me with so much love that my heart thundered in my chest. When he knelt in front of me and took my hand, the tears spilled over my cheeks. He kissed the back of my hand and looked up at me.
“Don’t cry, pet. I love you.” His words were a nervous whisper, and I nodded my “okay.” Then, he said with a slightly greater volume, “Just say, ‘Yes,’ and make me the happiest man on earth.”
I laughed through my tears; he’d said the same words so long ago that I’d almost forgotten them. I gently kissed him and then drew back to give him my response. “Yes. A thousand times, yes!”
The crowd cheered.
Spike stood and pulled me into a tight embrace, ignoring our onlookers as if we were the only two people in the universe. I inhaled his familiar scent and sighed with contentment when he laid his head atop mine and rubbed a small circle at the base of my spine. I was going to marry my person. Somehow, my mind couldn’t compute. Was this real?
He released me, and I opened my eyes to find Dawn standing next to me. “May I be your maid of honor?”
I was even more confused. “Huh? Of course!”
“Come on then!” She grabbed me by the hand and hurried me back down the aisle.
I peered back at Spike who smiled and nodded. “What is happening?” I whispered at my sister as we made it through the doors of the house.
“You can’t wear a navy swing dress to your own wedding,” she chirped.
But the navy swing dress covered my baby belly. I’d healed quickly from the C-section thanks to Slayer healing powers, but the belly with its stretchy skin and dark linea nigra, well that was something that didn’t just instantly go away. Swing dresses were my friend.
Willow and Oz joined us, holding hands, and Oz smiled. “She’s right.”
“That’s why. . .” Willow hurried to the hall closet and opened the door, producing a simple, strapless white wedding gown. In many ways, it was an echo of Willow’s with the cinched back and lace overlay.
“Oh, my god.” I didn’t know what to say.
Dawn fidgeted with anxiety. “Is it okay?”
“It’s just so fast!” I was having a hard time processing. “And it’s not my day.”
Willow held the dress back. “We want to share our day. . . with you and Spike, and Buffy, he wants to marry you. He asked us how we thought he should propose, and we encouraged him.”
“H-how long?” The question came out of nowhere. I wasn’t making a lot of sense.
“Since we got back from Texas,” Oz said, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looked so serene – so perfectly Oz.
“Since the day they got engaged and we registered for the baby,” Dawn added.
Giles burst through the door, appearing a bit flustered with his glasses in one hand. “I’m ready!”
“Ready for what?” I asked dumbly.
He donned his glasses and made direct eye contact, his expression tender. “To walk you down the aisle, Buffy. You asked me.” He shuffled his feet, and his eyes flicked away. “I mean, I know it was long ago, but you’re like a daughter to me. I-I would be honored.”
I flung my arms around him, which was decidedly less awkward without the baby in my belly or in my arms. “Oh, Giles.”
He grunted as I squeezed him a little too hard. He gasped, “I take it that’s a ‘yes.’”
I let him go. “Oops. Sorry. Yes! I mean, please walk me down the aisle.”
“Does that mean – ?” Dawn let the question trail off.
My heart squeezed as I thought of the vampire waiting for me. “If you’re okay with it – ?” I asked Oz and Willow.
“Yes! We wouldn’t have it any other way!” Willow strode forward and took my hand.
“Yay!” Dawn said with giddy excitement, her blue eyes bright.
“Wait. Where’s Asher?” I asked as I let Willow lead me toward her dressing room.
“Don’t worry about that. Someone special is taking care of him,” Willow said as we entered the room. “Dawn, fire up the curling iron and bring me my makeup bag.”
“Aye aye, captain.” Dawn saluted as she hurried toward the bathroom.
My mouth twisted to one side. “What’s wrong with my makeup?”
Thirty minutes later, I was wearing the beautiful dress, my hair was down and curling around my shoulders with a few strands up on each side and held in place with my new hand-beaded hair clip, and my makeup was completely redone. Dawn loaned me the pearl drop necklace that Mom had given her, and I wore sandals that matched Willow’s on my feet because heels hurt my feet since the baby was born (oh, the irony that my chunky boots were still in storage). Under the dress, I had a pair of Spanx thanks to Willow, and between that and the corset back to the dress, the remnants of my baby belly were well hidden. I tried not to cry as I stared in the mirror. My cheeks and eyes seemed lit from within, and I looked more alive than I’d looked in three months. Somehow, I didn’t think the light was from the makeup job.
Willow passed me a tissue and gave me a side hug. “Let’s go get you married.”
I shook my head at our reflection and felt the déjà vu of the scene. “Is this real?”
“Yes, it is!” Willow loaned me her bouquet and gave mine to Dawn.
“I love you guys,” I said softly.
“We love you.”
Before I knew it, music was playing, and Dawn glided down the aisle in front of me and Giles. My hand was tucked in the crook of Giles’s arm, his warm hand firmly atop mine, and as we stepped out together, Leah popped up from the left followed by a beaming Charlotte. Charlotte was here! Where had she come from? Willow and Oz didn’t know Charlotte and Shane and hadn’t invited them to the wedding – or so I thought. I glanced to the left and saw Shane with a smile on his face as he cradled a now awake baby Asher, who yawned and blinked at me. I returned Shane’s expression, and he nodded at me. There were a lot of knowing nods here tonight.
Leah suddenly hugged my legs to get my attention and then held up a basket of red rose petals. Looking to Charlotte for permission, the younger girl bounded up the aisle, tossing handfuls into the air as she went and slowing down only with Charlotte’s gentle restraint. I couldn’t help but grin.
Spike waited for me with a fierceness in his eyes – his only marker of nervousness, and I couldn’t wait to slip my hand into his to reassure him. Xander stood to his right with a blessing in his eyes. Giles kissed the top of my head and released me.
As I wrapped my fingers around Spike’s, I took in the strange man in judge’s robes standing in front of me. He was an older gentleman with sparkling brown eyes, who somehow looked a little familiar.
He smiled at me and said quietly so only Spike and I could hear, “I’m Judge Durbin, and I heard the two of you wanted to get married. I usually do this in the courthouse, but your soon-to-be husband was quite persuasive. We’ll sort out the paperwork after the ceremony; it’s a little backward in terms of the typical protocol, but I am in charge, so. . .” Alarm ran through me. What had Spike done? “Don’t be concerned. I do weddings of this sort all the time. I used to reside in Sunnydale, after all.”
My mouth fell open in shock. “Oh?” What was he talking about? Demon marriage?
The judge offered no other explanation, instead spreading his hands toward everyone and announcing the start of the ceremony.
Again, the words were a blur, and Spike and I grounded each other through each step of the traditional exchange of vows. I couldn’t stop peering up at him and staring into his eyes. No one had ever loved me the way he did, and I hoped that my eyes were shining with the same love back because I felt almost overwhelmed by the emotion.
Then, Dawn appropriated my bouquet, and Xander passed Spike two rings, platinum with a beautiful filigree design etched into each band. The metal felt cool and right as Spike slipped the smaller of the two over the knuckle on my left ring finger. My hands were shaking as I put his on for him. As soon as his ring was on, he twined our fingers together and held me steady.
When Judge Durbin pronounced us man and wife, Spike’s lips captured mine in a passionate kiss, and our friends and family clapped and hooted again in joy.
As with everything, Spike and I had done things a little bit opposite of the norm. I wouldn’t trade how we did it for the world. I was married to him, we had a beautiful son, and we were surrounded by friends and loved ones.
And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to really believe that I. . . we deserved to have everything.
Epilogue 1: Two Years Later
Lounging on the floor, Spike was reading a book, or well, he was pretending to read a book because said book was a giant version of “Good Night, Moon,” which was open and upside down on his lap.
From across the room, a little voice was singing a nonsense song. “Ah, doot-do-do. Ah, doot-do-do. Ah, doot-do-do.”
From the doorway, I watched from the recliner with a bemused expression on my face as our chubby-cheeked toddler ambled around the very messy vampire/playroom, his hands on his thighs as he pretended to ignore his Dada.
“Gumbo smells delicious.” Even in another part of the house, the scent of one of my favorite dishes filled the air; Spike had been cooking while I was at work.
“The witch and wolf are coming over in a few with Sophie.” Sophie was their one-year-old daughter; Willow had been very grateful to not be pregnant with several at once. Spike lifted an eyebrow at me. “How was patrol last night? And work this morning?”
“Ah-doot-do-do.”
We hadn’t spoken because Spike worked last night, and I’d needed the sleep to open the coffee shop after the slayage last night. “Good. Emily and I did most of the heavy lifting while Katie and Liz were bait.” (They hated being the bait; they even drew up a petition against being the bait. This made me and Willow laugh and laugh, especially because Kishan, Michael, and George were so annoyed.)
“Huh. Like for Dru?”
I twisted my mouth to one side. “Sorta. But not.” He was referring to the time his ex came to town when Asher was an infant.
He studied me. “There’s a story in there, eh?”
“Ah, doot-do-do.”
“Yeah. But for during naptime. Stupid slippery hellmouth. And Crystal says, ‘Hi.’ Leah sent her latest horse drawing for Asher.” In the past year, Leah had been back to spending Friday nights with us. She and Asher were quite close – almost closer than she and her brother, which Crystal was amused by. I nodded toward Spike’s lap. “Good book?”
Spike smirked as Asher, who had stealthily edged his father’s way, suddenly pounced on him with a loud, “Ha!” Spike threw the book aside and scooped our son up, holding him high and then lifting him up and down in rapid succession so that shrieks of childish laughter filled the room. Spike’s chuckle wove with the sounds of joy, and I couldn’t hold back then, rushing to join my family on the floor. Spike let Asher rest on his chest with his little arms and legs hanging over the side.
Asher’s green eyes lit with happiness as I tumbled to the rug, and he lifted his small head for a kiss, which I gladly deposited, inhaling the sweet scent of babyhood that still lingered though he seemed to grow bigger every day. He made a smacking noise into the air like the sound of a kiss in return.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi!” Asher replied. “Mama,” he labeled me. This was only recent – his recognition that the words he’d been saying for months applied to me and his dad as separate entities from himself.
“I am your mama.” I nuzzled my nose against his tiny one. “I love you.”
“I youuuuu,” he crooned with a big smile. Then, he pushed himself up as I dragged a pillow off the sofa to prop up against. Climbing off Spike, Asher retrieved the cast aside book, flipped it around so it was right side up, and opened the first page, studying the illustrations in quiet contemplation. He reminded me of Spike when he did that. It wasn’t me that was the lover of the written word, and Spike spent hours reading to him. Books were one of the only things that slowed his seemingly infinite toddler energy.
I stroked my son’s soft curls – the honey-blonde curls he’d gotten from his father. “I can’t believe he’s two.”
Spike gazed at his son in adoration. “Two years went fast.” I figured a year must go incredibly fast for someone his age because the years were definitely going faster for me in my thirties.
There was the sound of the board book scrapping over Asher’s pants as he turned the page.
I glanced at Spike. “Are you glad we did it?”
His eyes were filled with curiosity. “Did what, love?”
“Had him? Did IVF? The whole thing? It was a lot, you know?” I sometimes wondered if having our son turned our lives upside down in a way that made him miss the way we were before – going on all-night patrols together, eating out at restaurants, having sex whenever and wherever, traveling the world on missions. We had our nights out, but they were often separate or with our son in tow. “And I sometimes wonder if – ”
Spike interrupted me, “No regrets. I can’t imagine us being without him.”
“Oh.” I smiled at him. “Me either.” I bit my lip as Spike watched me. My eyes moved to the baby’s small neck as his head bent over, absorbed in his task. Love filled my heart, but something else niggled there, too. Asher turned the page again to the images of the kittens and mittens.
“Penny for your thoughts.” There was something about the way Spike said those words that made my eyes mist over.
I shrugged one shoulder. “Our other embryo.”
Spike sat up and moved closer to me so that our hips were touching; my body came alive at his touch the way it always – still – did. “What about him?” He nudged my arm with his.
I placed my hand in his upturned, offered one. His cooler skin was my comfort. “Are we doing the right thing?” We’d talked about it before, but there was a place in my heart that ached when I thought of that potential little life still frozen in Colorado. To the outsider, they were just a bunch of cells, but to me, they were a human life – our other baby. Though our love might be endless, the realities were a bit different. For one thing, we couldn’t financially afford another child. We’d also talked about how we couldn’t bring another child into this crazy life we led; we were doing good to keep our one little guy out of the hands of never-do-wells who might harm him. The last two years had taught us that. Still, I was continuing to pay the embryo storage fees and would for the foreseeable future. Who knows what the future would bring? My sense was that our family was complete, but I certainly never really expected to be married to a vampire I adored and to have a precious son with said husband.
Spike’s thumb stroked the soft spot on my hand between the thumb and index finger, and I laid my head on his shoulder. “I think so? And if it makes you feel any better, you’re not alone.” His voice was soft and deep with emotion, and his response told me that he understood what I wasn’t saying, too.
Asher clapped the book shut and twisted around to face us both. His expression was priceless; I could tell he was trying to understand what he was seeing and sensing from us. With his hands braced on the ground, he stood up, bottom in the air first. Then, he walked slowly toward us until he couldn’t go further because we were so close together. With abruptness, he turned and plopped down on us both, leaned back to make sure we were both watching, and giggled with joy.
I laughed, and Spike lightly tickled our son’s tummy so that the giggles were half-real, half-fake.
The doorbell rang. Spike reluctantly moved away from our family snuggles. “That’d be the company. I heard the car, and now I hear Soph.”
“You hungry, my little bunny?” I asked as my stomach growled, and I emulated Spike’s movements.
His eyes brightened, and he popped up. “Eat?” He held his arms up. Eating was never a problem with Asher; Sophie, on the other hand, had acid reflux, and Willow was worn out. It’d been all over her face last night; still, she’d made the most of getting out of the house even if it was to help us with Slayer business.
I scooped up my son, his small body wedged against mine as he wrapped his legs around my hip. “Let’s go see little Sophie!”
“So!!!” Asher cried out. That was the best way he knew to say her name.
“Remember to be quiet if Sophie’s sleeping.” I lifted my index finger to my lips. Spike had heard the baby, but babies, as we’d learned, were sometimes notoriously loud sleepers.
Asher looked at me with wide eyes and copied my finger movement. “Shhhh.”
I nodded sagely. “Shhhh is right.”
We headed into the living room where Spike was holding the front door open and standing in the shadows to avoid the late afternoon sun. A redheaded Oz was carrying the newborn car seat with the shade up but no cover. A bag with the folded-up pack-and-play was slung over his shoulder. Summer in New Orleans was too hot to cover a baby with one of those car seat covers.
“Hey, Buff. Ash.” Oz gave my son a nod and half-smile, and Asher grinned.
“Hi,” he greeted Oz, the syllable starting loud and ending soft as he remembered. “Shhhh.” Asher loved the werewolf, especially when he intentionally sprung a few wolfie hairs and made faces at him. Oz’s control over his wolf these days was astounding. He thought his wife was powerful, but I thought he didn’t give himself enough credit.
A diaper backpack strapped on, Willow found her way inside, and Spike swiftly shut the door. “It’s okay, Asher. Sophie’s wide awake. She’s waiting for her bottle.” (Willow was exclusively pumping, which probably also contributed to her exhaustion, but also gave her some freedom as long as she scheduled pumping outside of the-need-for-magic-assistance time.) Oz continued, “Where’s Snowball?”
Our white, short-haired cat shied away from Oz; we weren’t sure why other than maybe his wolfy-ness. Spike shrugged. “She’s probably under the bed in our room or in Asher’s closet.”
“Good. Poor cat.” Oz easily moved his fingers around like he was twirling a baton and revealed the bright-eyed Sophie. She had Willow and Oz’s scarlet hair, fair skin, and Oz’s blue eyes. She gurgled at us.
Asher made a noise to indicate he wanted down, and then, he ran over to the baby, came up short, and lightly touched her waving hand. “Hi.”
“He’s so sweet, Buffy. Very gentle,” Willow observed as she gave me a brief hug.
“He’s had a good role model in the lil Bit.” Spike shook hands with Oz.
“He means Leah,” I clarified.
“That’s true,” my best friend acknowledged. “Where’s Dawnie?”
I gave Spike side eye and lowered my voice. “She’s actually hanging out with Shane.”
Spike, of course, heard me and rolled his eyes before scooping Asher out of my arms. Our son practically launched himself into my husband’s embrace.
“Gonna borrow the microwave,” Oz said, tugging the diaper bag off Willow’s shoulder, so we could continue our conversation. “Feed Sophie.”
“Thanks.” Willow kissed her husband’s cheek and watched the guys head into the kitchen before turning back to me with shining eyes. She loved the juicy gossip. “So, she’s hanging out with Shane now?”
“I think she was serious about playing the field. She and George haven’t been together in a while; I don’t think he’s dropped his candle for her, but they have an understanding. And Shane and Charlotte just got here.” Shane had taken an English teaching job at Tulane; Shane and Spike had grown very close, and they were each other’s only family in the States. Charlotte was newly enrolled in one of the city’s best private schools. Dawn had finished her master’s degree, lived in her own apartment in River Ridge, and was working as a communications consultant at a local hospital. She was often called in to deal with the supernatural cases – demons who came in for treatment. Her niche was growing, and she was considering going back to school for a degree in counseling. In her spare time, she and Willow were still working on her portal-opening skills.
“Poor George. How’s Spike taking this more serious turn with Shane?”
I wasn’t sure how Spike was taking it, and I wondered if he and Shane had discussed it. No doubt they had because my husband was being way too blasé about it. “I think Dawn has made her intentions clear. She’s not ready to settle down.”
“You do realize what this means.” Willow frowned, her emerald eyes big.
I laughed at her aghast expression. “What?”
“We’re officially old.”
“But no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it comes, it comes.” Somehow, despite my constant worry about my son (as was a mother’s prerogative), I didn’t freak out as much about the rug being pulled out from under me. There would be scary times, but I’d been through enough of them now to know that we’d make it through and that I wasn’t alone in having to deal with them.
Willow bobbed her head once. “Right. We got the shoe drop-age handled as long as we have each other.”
“I like this infinitely better.” I hooked my arm in Willow’s.
“Me, too. And in other news, Xander texted me photos. You’ll never guess what of.” Willow held up her phone and jogged it awake.
“Lemme see!” Willow pulled up the texts, clicked on a picture, and passed me the phone. I scrolled through them: beautiful photos of a variety of engagement rings. “He’s finally doing it.”
“Getting engaged again. I never thought he would. It took him so long to get over Anya.” Willow poked at the screen even as the cell was still in my hands. “I love that one. It reminds me of Carrie for some reason.”
“Ooo. That’s gorgeous.” Looking at diamond rings reminded me that Spike hadn’t bought me a traditional engagement ring; I really didn’t care. All that mattered was that we were together. My heart beat a little harder with love for him.
Said vampire poked his head around the corner. “You birds coming? Gumbo’s ready.”
“Yep,” I said, smiling at him and feeling that familiar desire to take him where he stood, no matter who was around. I could control myself – for now.
Sophie let out a screech, and Willow disentangled herself from my arm and hurried toward the kitchen, bringing her phone with her.
As I approached Spike with my arms outstretched, he drew me close, kissing me full on the mouth and letting me know with his movements and the way he lingered that he knew what my body was telegraphing. “Later, pet,” he growled so low I could barely hear him.
“Sooner than later,” I returned, gazing into his brilliant blue eyes, which echoed my desire.
“Mama!” Asher called, straining to see me from around the back of the highchair where he perched. “Gum-o! Eat!”
I laughed; I seemed to do that a lot these days. “We’re coming!”
Epilogue 2: Dear son
So, you turned eighteen today, and I’ve spent the better part of the past weekend reading over what I wrote over the first year of your life. I was nervous about revealing too much when I started, but I think by the time I finished the story, I’d relaxed into the writing. I didn’t hold back as much. You’ll see. At the same time, you shouldn’t have to squint and half-close your eyes at any parts. Promise.
If you read this and have questions, ask me or your dad. We don’t want you to ever be worried about asking us anything. We want you to know this story – the story of the creation of you. You were loved before you were even here. Though your dad and I made mistakes with one another and weren’t perfect before or after you came into this world, you should know that we both wanted you. We did more than wait for you like those elephant parents in that book we used to read to you when you were younger. We fought for you; we will always fight for you.
That doesn’t mean you should feel like you owe us something. That’s not my intention with this. Maybe some of your Pop Pop rubbed off on me, but I wanted to document the who, what, where, when, and why of how you came to be. (And maybe Pop Pop helped. . . just a little.) Though your dad and I went to a clinic in Colorado for help in having you, you were created out of love. I want you to always remember that.
You’re turning eighteen, and there’s a whole world out there to experience – a world that isn’t always pretty. Your dad and I don’t want you to live in fear. You’re going to stumble. Things aren’t always going to go your way. Scary stuff is going to happen. Your heart will get broken. You may feel like your world – your life is ending. (I know you already know this.)
What matters is what you do next, how you make sense of what’s happening, and how you own your piece whatever that piece might be.
Trust me when I say that I know without a doubt that you’ll figure out what to do with whatever happens – good, bad or in between. Whatever way you need us, your father and I and the rest of your family will be there to support you while you sort it out. You may feel alone, but you won’t be. It’s not always gloom and doom, but there is sometimes darkness before the light, and I know many good things are coming your way, too.
All that said, your dad and I are so incredibly proud of you. You’re a beautiful person inside and out; you’re compassionate, observant, and generous like your dad; you work hard; and you always try. You are one of the brightest parts of our life. We love you without measure. Happy birthday, Ash.
Love,
Mom 11:05 PM
8-4-18