The Penny Series

Ficlet 27) Epilogue: 1 Penny + 1 Penny = 3 Pennies
Summary: For large increments of one, you get three.

It begins:

Have you ever felt as if the ground beneath you fell away, leaving you breathless, excited, and not a little bit terrified? Well, with the exception of the ground bit, the rest is true.

“It's pink,” Buffy stated for the third time in as many minutes, and it still hadn't sunk in.

How? Why? he thought, before it finally clicked. Oh God, it's pink.

“Can you remember the last time I had it?” she asked desperately.

To the day, but how had it escaped his notice? “Two months and six days,” he announced with trepidation.

“I'm not prepared for this… goldfish, remember?” Buffy rambled, before switching gears on him. “You're creepy sometimes, you know that, Angel?”

“Vampire, heightened sense of smell. I take interest in all things blood.”

“Well yeah, gross, but how could this happen? Vampires are dead; there's no need for birth control.”

He was just about to say something when she butted in, pointing her finger threateningly at him. “And don't you dare imply that there was someone else or I swear I'll stake you.”

He grinned, “I would have known if you'd cheated on me- by the guy's scent and the fact that you're a terrible liar.”

She smacked him on his arm and stuck her tongue out at him. “Okay just so that's settled, because I'm not going to have you brooding over me having slept with some jerk to get my jollies while you were away.”

He sobered then and took her hand between his own, rubbing their palms with the pad of his thumb. “We're pregnant, Buffy.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing softly. “Do you have any idea how this happened?”

“Well as I remember,” he drawled flashing her a wolfish grin, “you couldn't keep your hands off of me.”

“Oh you, you sex fiend, it wasn't me!” Buffy declared, outraged, whipping around to smack him on the arm.

She stood and placed the offending stick on the coffee table as she began pacing back and forth, getting more and more distraught every time she passed him.

Finally Buffy stopped before him and said, almost panicky, “It's not that I don't want to have your baby, but what if it's evil vampire junior without the soul? What if instead of having a baby we have a little demon? How do you parent a demon? Is it possible? Oh God, this isn't a normal pregnancy, is it?” Buffy put her hands on her stomach and peered down at it. “Do you think it'll grow faster or slower because it's undead?”

Standing, he gently removed her hands from her flat tummy and put them on his shoulders before scooping her into his arms and hugging her fiercely. “We'll talk to Giles tomorrow. I don't understand it either, but we'll figure out what is going on. Maybe Doyle will be able to get a flash into the future or a vision…”

“He only gets those when there's danger, so I guess we'd be happier without a vision on our behalf then, hun?” Buffy joked miserably.

He hugged her tighter, patting her head and running his fingers through her hair. “Everything will be fine, Buffy. Come on, let me tuck you in.”

Buffy nodded, burying her face into his neck. Pained, he pulled away and cupped her face, pressing soft kisses along her nose and her lips. She melted against him and returned his kiss with fervor. He took a step back, running his hands along her arms to the tips of her fingers before linking their hands together. With one last lingering kiss on her mouth, he led her upstairs to their bedroom.

They were quiet and pensive when they entered their private haven, and in the silence he heard a strange noise. It was soft and faint but incessant, not unlike the sound of Buffy's heart beating in her chest. He'd been hearing it for quite some time. It was very subtle, almost unnoticeable except when they were quiet and near sleep. Now, with his knowledge of their pregnancy, a thought came to mind.

“Buffy, do you hear that?” he asked excitedly, placing a hard kiss on her lips. “I finally figured out what that noise was I told you about weeks ago.”

Dazed, Buffy glanced up at him, her fingers touching her lips lightly. “What are you talking about now, Angel?”

“That noise! sai said with a silly grin, “It's our baby's heartbeat. It's barely noticeable; I hear it at night when I'm watching you sleep. It has to be, what else could that little thump thump be?” Reverently, he placed his hands on her flat tummy, caressing just above where their baby grew in Buffy's womb. “We're having a child, I can't believe it.”

“A heartbeat? So it's not a hybrid vamp-human embryo? We're actually having a child?” Buffy asked, her fears leaving her in a whoosh of breath.

She brought her hands up to cover his and hold them to her stomach. They stood there quietly in awe, their concerns momentarily eclipsed by the knowledge of a heartbeat. He fell to his knees so he could be eye level with their unborn child. Pressing soft, pliant kisses to her charmingly flat tummy, he tugged her shirt up higher to reach her bare skin.

Buffy moaned, tugging his hair gently, before insistently pulling him up by his chin. She brought him level with her tightly pebbled nipples, making him smile. He took her upturned peak into his mouth, running the edges of his blunt teeth over the sensitive tip. A crying mewl slipped from her throat, sending a wave of pure sensation to his turgid cock.

“One day I will taste the milk your breasts produce for our son or daughter,” he mumbled softly, nuzzling his way to the neglected nipple. Taking its pert point between his lips, he rolled its newly neglected counterpart through his fingers.

“Part of me can‘t wait,” Buffy sighed, stretching beneath his talented hands and mouth. “But a part of me wonders what you'll think of me when I'm all fat and grotesque and waddling around like a duck.”

Amused at her description, he ran his hands around and down her back before squeezing her butt in response. “You'll be the most beautiful woman in the world. I won't be able to take my eyes off of you.”

Buffy laughed, a tinkling little sound, and dragged him up from his kneeling position. “You're such a terrible liar,” she teased, busily stripping off his clothes.

First the row of buttons on his shirt was undone, and then the shirt disappeared. Her hands fumbled with his belt, and she hauled him closer, so that his erection nudged against her warm hip. When he stood nude before her, he brought her tiny hand to his cock and cupped her fingers around his girth, groaning harshly at the exquisite touch.

“Only you can do this to me, Buffy, only you,” he groaned, falling silent under her dexterous handling. He loved the weight of her small hand gripping him.

A great possessive feeling coursed through him as he tenderly unwrapped his wife, taking the time to explore each newly exposed patch of skin with wet kisses and cool hands. He undid the tethers and bows on the sides of her skirt, intoxicated by her.

“You're exquisite,” he told her, awed by the fact that she was his, and his alone. “Only time could make you more beautiful in my eyes.”

Buffy laughed, sending a jolt to his penis, still held within her fist. “Even when I'm nine months pregnant?”

“Do you doubt it?” he asked, nuzzling her neck, pressing soft cool kisses on her heated skin.

She moaned, arching under his caresses. “What would you do if I said maybe?”

“Tease you for hours,” he replied quickly, picking her up and placing her gently on the mattress before climbing up after her. “Wait until you're weeping and begging me to let you come, and only then would I bring you over the edge.”

“Sounds lovely,” Buffy grinned, sitting up on her hands and knees. “But how do you propose to do that when I have you under my will, subjected to my every whim?”

He smirked and lay back, pulling Buffy on top of him. Raising his arms over his head, he grinned seductively and stretched out beneath her slight weight. “Do your worst,” he challenged.

Buffy chuckled and licked a long, wet trail from the base of his neck down to his belly button, where her tongue dipped inside and swirled around once. A low rumbling growl slipped past his throat, his hips lifting to seek solace between the damp warmth of her thighs. She rubbed against him, teasing him with lingering but unfulfilling passes as she kneaded his chest. Her breasts felt full and weighty in his hands as he fondled their tightly budded points.

Mewling, Buffy brought her hands to hold his in place then let go as she pulled away to kiss down his flesh. Wet languid strokes fell on his hips and thighs, purposefully missing the one place he wanted her most.

“Buffy,” he growled pleadingly, gripping the sheets in tightly clenched fists.

She laughed again, her breath tickling his tingling skin as she worked her way down his legs. Her palms skimmed over his calves to cup behind his knees before traveling back up to stroke the insides of his thighs, touching his quivering cock with her nails. He jumped at her touch and fell back with a heartfelt groan as Buffy took him between her lips.

His world fractured momentarily at the feel of being held in her mouth with her tongue swirling around him. A needy moan left him as he scrambled for purchase in her hair, thrusting up so that Buffy engulfed more of him. His long fingers caressed her supple neck, urging her to take him deep into her throat, and she did. With an exuberant yelp, he was swallowed wholly into her moist, succulent warmth.

After a few moments she pulled away and climbed up his body, raking her nails over his pale chest as she seated herself on top of him. There she wiggled until he slipped between her parted legs, seeking entrance into her silky depths. She sighed blissfully as she glided over him, her inner walls rippling softly around him, becoming accustomed to his size.

Buffy grunted, wiping a sweaty lock of hair from her face before finding purchase at his sides and starting to rise and fall against him. He held her hips, pulling her towards him as he thrust upwards into the warm recesses of her sheath. Buffy's nails sank into his sides, finding leverage and quickening her pace.

His thumb pressed downwards, searching briefly through her damp curls for her aching clit. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, and Buffy cried out, shifting dramatically as her back bowed and her head flew backwards. Steadily they built a rhythm together, rising rapidly towards release.

“Mine?” he asked, leaning up to suckle on one bouncing nipple.

“Always,” Buffy answered, quickening her tempo, grinding her hips down onto him, taking him as deeply as she could into herself until she quivered and shattered around him.

He moaned appreciatively and flipped them over, stroking inside her deeper than before. She was still aroused, and every thrust made Buffy tremble. His head fell forward onto her shoulder, and a deep, tickling growl rumbled from his chest into hers as he squashed their bodies together. He pistoned wildly, a tightening in his balls foretelling his coming orgasm. With a final lunge, he roared his release against her skin, nipping forcefully at her collarbone.

Collapsing against her as he came down from the scintillating release, he nuzzled the bite mark with his nose. He soothed it with languid passes of his rough, broad tongue. Momentarily worn out, he kissed his way up her neck. Pushing himself up onto his hands, he licked her lips, urging them to part beneath his mouth. Her hand ran softly against his jaw as she opened up beneath him to let him slip inside.

She sighed, wrapping her hands around his neck and drawing him closer. He kissed her gently, recuperating along with her after the mind blowing releases they'd just shared. He lapped at the side of her mouth while she tugged his lower lip between her teeth, nibbling lightly at him. They eased apart with a sigh and cuddled, spooning against each other. He hugged her to him, wrapping himself around of her as she stretched to pull the sheets over them.

His hand covered her belly protectively, cradling the life of their unborn child as they fell into a light sleep in each other's arms.

*****

One Month Later:

“Angel!” Buffy called from the kitchen desperately.

Worried, he sprang out of his chair in the living room and raced towards the sound of her panicked voice. Hurtling around the corner of the hallway, he literally tripped over himself to get to her.

Stumbling to a halt before her, he panted, “What's wrong?”

Buffy motioned to the refrigerator in distress. “Are you kidding me? There's no chocolate mint chip ice cream! It's horrible! The sign of an impending apocalypse. We better call Giles! He'll go nuts! Look up really old books and read us all the signs that the next big bad is coming!”

“The next big bad isn't coming because you don't have ice cream, Buffy,” he said exasperatedly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“But chocolate mint chip! I have none! It's bad! Way bad!”

A smile formed, despite the mild heart attack he had had a few minutes ago. “Is this your way of asking me to go get you some?”

She nodded frantically. “Yes! I've got this awful craving that needs to be satisfied!”

“Don't blame this one on the baby,” he scolded with a grin. “I know for a fact you had these ‘cravings' before you got pregnant.”

Pouting, Buffy stomped her foot and wrapped her arms around her waist. “Please? I want some.”

Giving her a look, he walked over to the fridge, opened the freezer and peered inside. To his incredulity there weren't any of the various flavors of ice cream he had stocked in there five days ago. He even went so far as to move the bags of emergency human plasma out of the way to see if she had hidden the rest behind them in hopes of getting more of her favorite flavor. Sighing, he didn't see anything behind the bags of blood but some mini-pizzas.

“How in the world did you finish off six quarts in five days? I could possibly understand five quarts in five days,” he said in amusement, looking over his shoulder at her. “That'd be one a day. But six? Where'd it all go?”

Buffy looked at him in mock outrage. Her hands came to rest on her hips as she glared at him frostily. “I am eating for two, you know.”

Closing the freezer door, he walked over to her and placed his hands on her slightly rounded tummy, kissing her hello.

“His heartbeat gets louder every day,” he whispered against her lips with a proud smile.

“His?” she drawled questioningly. “You can tell gender now?”

“Or hers,” he amended, chagrined.

“That's better,” Buffy sighed happily, standing up on tiptoe to reach his cheek, where she placed a kiss.

“Will you be staying here or coming with me?” he asked finally, moving his hands from the soft protruding curve of her abdomen up her ribs to cup her heavy breasts.

“Hmm… Angel,” she sighed. “No…”

“No?” he asked, shocked, leaning away from her.

A smug look glimmered in his eyes as he pinched her sensitive nipples very gently, feeling them harden instantly at his attentions. Buffy bit her lip and shook her head a couple of times.

Brushing his thumbs over her pearled points, he raised a brow at her incredulously. “No? I would think you'd want to pick out other things now, with me, rather then send me out and have to wait long periods of time because you forgot that one thing you needed me to get the last time.”

“But it amuses me,” Buffy pouted. “And I have a studly to watch on television… it's my Johnny.”

Growling softly, he lifted her chin. “Your Johnn

“Yes,” Buffy replied sweetly, “Depp is gorgeous, and I want him.”

“Hmm…” he purred seductively, their lips a mere breath apart, “makes a mental note to kill the competition.”

Buffy laughed, and kissed him on the lips. “See, I knew you'd understand. Hormones!”

“Yeah right,” he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I love you, Buffy… baby…” He kissed her once and grabbed the keys from the rack on the wall.

As he walked past her again, he ran his hand lightly over her extended stomach, blowing her a kiss. “I'll be back soon,” he called over his shoulder as he left the kitchen out the garage entrance.

*****

Six days and eight hours later:

“Buffy it's past dawn. Come on, you should get to bed. It's late,” he cajoled, attempting to get her to leave the bathroom.

“It's only eight in the morning, Angel,” Buffy countered, slipping out of her clothes. “Besides, my hair feels dirty. I'm going to wash it.”

“Well when you've been up since 4 PM, 8 AM is pretty late. I'm tired, but I can't go to bed when you might trip and fall in the shower.”

Buffy ran her palms over her fuller breasts, hefting their weight in her hands. “It'd be like going to bed at 10 PM when you woke up at 6 AM, Angel. It's not that bad,” she said, looking at herself as she squeezed them between her fingers, pinching the engorged nipples gently to test their sensitivity.

“You don't play fair,” he groaned, aroused at the sight.

She looked up from her examination of her body, flashing him a wicked smile. “Now why would I do that?”

“To be kind?” he asked gruffly. “Or you could try not to make me combust into a pile of ashes on the spot?”

“You're right, that would be messy,” Buffy said, flashing him a quick smile as she brushed past him to reach the shower.

He grabbed her hand before she slipped away. “I'll wash your hair in the tub if you promise to come to bed right afterward.”

She looked down at his tight blue jeans and laughed softly, running her hands around his waist to press his erection between them so that it lay against her slightly expanded belly. The intimacy of the ache ihe idea of making love to her while she carried his baby, nearly undid him.

Without moving a muscle he kissed her ear, nibbling on its lobe before tracking his way to her upturned mouth and darting his tongue inside. Buffy groaned softly, her hands moving round to knead his ass as she pulled him closer. Her lips parted under his assault, and she slipped her tongue inside his mouth, changing where the play took place.

He suckled on her tongue, pulling it between his lips as he reached with his hands to mold her swollen breasts, lifting them higher than where gravity normally held them before releasing their sensual weight. Buffy's fingers raked up his spine, tracing the muscles in his back. When he started to purr, she pulled away, breaking off the connection to his skin in slow increments.

“You have yourself a deal,” Buffy murmured with a flirtatious wink.

Giving her a scintillating pout, he sighed dramatically and turned the nozzles on in the tub.

The water warmed, and he grabbed the plastic bowl that sat at the side of the tub. Motioning Buffy forward, he yanked his towel off the rack by the shower and folded it on the floor so that her knees wouldn't get sore.

She kissed his cheek before shifting herself so that she slowly sank to the ground. “Thanks,” she sarelirelieved that he helped her down when the movement got worse than awkward.

“Lean over the edge now,” he ordered her gently, running his fingers through her dry hair once before he took the bowl. He put it under the warm spray and then poured it over her head.

“Hmmm,” Buffy moaned appreciatively at the warmth tingling her scalp. “That feels so good.”

“Hold your breath,” he warned, turning another bowl of water over her head, all the while shifting his fingers through her tresses.

When her hair was wet, he set aside the bowl and left Buffy momentarily to get her shampoo and conditioner. He loved the new shampoo and conditioner she had found. The shampoo smelled of blackcurrants and berries, and the conditioner was scented with fig and hints of sandalwood and jasmine. Flipping the lid of the shampoo up, he breathed in the fragrance before pouring a fair amount of it into his hand and closing the lid.

“I love this smell,” he told her, putting the bottle by the sink.

“Should I get another bottle of it?” Buffy asked, leaning on her hands as she glanced behind at him.

“Oh no,” he stated quickly. “No, no, no, I love the fact that you can't settle down on any one scent, makes fun for guessing.”

He lathered his hands and worked the soap carefully into her hair, hugging the back of her shivering form to his chest. A small moan left her as he massaged her scalp with strong, firm strokes of his fingertips. Soon her hair was a mass of white foam, and he took up the bowl once again to dump water onto her head.

“That feels nice,” Buffy murmured, her voice muffled by the water's splash against her locks.

“Good,” he replied. A grateful sigh left her as the warm water touched the back of her head again, heating her neck.

The shivering decreased so that it was almost imperceptible, but he could feel every tremble against his belly. He rinsed quickly and ran his fingers through her hair with the conditioner next, making sure to capture every strand in a cocoon of creamy, enriching nutrients before leaving her to take her towel from the rack.

“Hurry, Angel,” Buffy begged, “my knees are getting sore, and I'm cold.”

“One second,” he told her, pulling the hair dryer out before returning to her shivering form.

She breathed in deeply when his fingers splayed in her tresses once more, sighing audibly before shifting her weight. The smile he flashed her was tinged with pity as he hurried to rinse her hair one last time. With infinite care, he helped Buffy to her feet and wrapped the large fluffy towel around her shoulders, wrapping the ends over her hair and squeezing the water out.

“Hmm,” she hummed softly as he tugged her hair, the towel clutched firmly around the wet locks.

“Feel good?” he asked, picking up the hairdryer and plugging it in.

Buffy nodded. “Yes, it feels wonderful.”

He kissed the top of her head and turned the hairdryer on low before picking up a comb and handing it to her. He dried as she combed, and soon her hair was a fluffy curtain around her once more. With a wicked grin, he set aside the appliance and pressed his arousal against her bare butt, rubbing her through the roughness of his jeans.

*****

Three Weeks Later:

“Ow, ow, ow, ow!” Buffy screeched, drawing up, her hand going to the small of her back.

He glanced up from where he sat on the floor rubbing her feet. “Shh, shh. It'll be all right, it's just a little back pain, that's all. Nothing abnormal for our second trimester.”

She looked up from under her lashes and glared at him. “Our second trimester?”

He had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, technically, your second trimester.”

“That's better,” Buffy stated, flopping back against the couch. “Oh God,” she groaned, stretching out beneath his hands and wiggling her feet. “Oh uh…um…yum… Ah God, that feels incredible! Where did you learn to do that, Angel?”

“Well I use to pleasure pregnant women all the time in the early 1900s. I studied with an expectant midwife; she was about ten-twelve months along?” He smirked, pressing his thumbs into her instep and pushing hard.

Buffy grunted in pleasure, before grimacing as another sharp pain made her back muscles twitch. After a moment's pause, she smacked him upside the head.

“Buffhe yhe yelped, looking up from her bare footsies. “What was that for?”

“For being such a wretched liar, trying to make me jealous,” she accused. “Not going to happen, buster. No woman is going to be allowed to look at you twice ever again.”

“Buff-” he started but didn't finish because Buffy's eyes grew round. She jerked her feet out of his hands and sat upright as quickly as she could. orriorried, he watched her with trepidation. “Buffy, what happened?” he asked fearfully, placing his hands beside hers on her stomach.

Her muscles twitched in a fluttering spasm under his hands, and Buffy squealed. He was already horribly shaken, and her cry, though joyful, nearly shocked him out of his skin. Nervously, he caressed her distended tummy, his eyes avidly searching her face for signs of something wrong.

“Did you feel it? Did you feel it, Angel?” Buffy exclaimed excitedly, holding her belly for a brief second then grabbing his hands to hold them more tightly against her.

“Feel what? Buffy, feel what!”

“You didn't feel it?” she asked disappointedly. “Well that's okay, I'm sure it's going to happen again.”

“What happened?” he asked in growing agitation. “Buffy, do I need to call the doctor?”

Perplexed, Buffy glanced up at him. “What are you going on aboungelngel, it's the baby, she's kicking!”

“Kicking?” he gulped.

Pleased, Buffy nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder to gaze at his quaking hands on her rounded belly. “If you keep shaking like that, Angel, it's no wonder you couldn't feel it.”

She stayed his hands with hers and waited. An air of expectation heightened their senses. He could hear every beat of their hearts echoing in his ears; his hands grew slick, and his mouth went dry. Logically, he knew she'd been pregnant for about four months, but he had grown used to hearing the second heartbeat thudding gently in his wife's body as she carried their unborn child. It had become normal, but kicking wasn't normal; kicking meant the baby was cognizant.

When nothing happened, he reluctantly drew his hands away, disappointment marring his brow. “I guess that's it for today,” he said sadly.

Buffy looked at him for a moment with sympathy then winced, her hands going to the small of her back once more. “I doubt it,” she grimaced, “Junior here is giving me fits--- oh! Angel!”

His hands were on her tummy again, a smile lighting up his face as the baby kicked against his palm. “Buffy, look, it's a miracle.”

She nodded, smiling happily down at him, enjoying his wonder at it all. Her hand went to the nape of his neck, her fingers delving into his soft brown locks. “Our miracle,” Buffy concurred.

For as long as the frantic movement lasted he was fascinated, his attention riveted on the activity underneath his palms. He lifted her shirt and placed warm kisses over the mound, feeling protective, proud, and a little bit scared all at once. How was he going to measure up as a parent?

*****

Two months later:

Buffy pouted in front of the full length mirror and didn't see him come up behind her. He wrapped his fingers determinedly around hers, stopping her perusal of her ever changing body. Stepping up behind her, he pressed her back against the wall of his chest, bringing her arms up around his neck so he could brush wet kisses to the side of her neck.

“Don't, Buffy,” he commanded sternly.

“Don't what?” Buffy asked breathily, averting her gaze from the mirror to his behind her.

He growled. “That,” he spat, nodding his head toward the mirror. “You're beautiful.”

Buffy sighed and turned back, gazing at herself in the mirror. “I don't know what you see, but it's not what I see.”

“What do you see?”

“I see a dowdy pregnant woman with stretch marks,” she criticized.

“Nope,” he rejected immediately. “That's not what's there in the mirror at all.”

His hands cradled her elbows before sliding down under her arms. They glided over the outer curves of her breasts, where they hovered as he spoke. “I see my gorgeous wife. A beautiful woman, with many more strengths than weaknesses. I see her natural grace more so now that her body's changes have made her step seem lighter than before.”

“You always say the prettiest things, but I'm waddling, Angel; there's nothing light about it. I'm fatter by the day. I can't even fit in the maternity dress I bought a month ago! A month! Angel!”

When she made a move to turn around and continue pleading her case, he held her firmly around the shoulders. “You're pregnant, Buffy, not fat, and outgrowing your maternity clothes is expected, not a crime of fashion,” he reassured her, caressing the hollows underneath her plump breasts, his thumbs curving upward to brush the sensitive skin there.

Her breath caught then shuddered. Slowly, Buffy pulled her arms down and crossed them over the top of her stomach. The swiftness with which she hid herself from him tugged at his heart. Shaking his head at her, he grabbed her hands and clasped them firmly in his grip as he walked around her.

“Look at me, Buffy,” he commanded, insisting on her undivided attention. “Our baby is inside you; we created this life from love and trust, and now you're blossoming in its wake. It's not grotesque or unflattering, but wondrous and extraordinary.”

“But how can it be wondrous and extraordinary if I feel like an ugly pumpkin?” Buffy asked, chewing on her lower lip.

He laughed, a sudden unexpected burst of mirth, while he clasped his hands around the family he'd protect forever. “Ugly pumpkin? You? Never! And I hate the fact that you think you are, when you're not, Buffy, not even close.”

Buffy provocatively glided her hands around his waist, reaching down to grab his ass. “You haven't made love to me in a week, Angel, what am I supposed to think?”

Catching her earlobe between his teeth, he softly asked, “Are you saying that just because I haven't loved you well and good in the past few nights, you're doubting your sex appeal? Buffy, trust me, these past few nights when you fell asleep on me have been hell.”

She glanced up at him from under her lashes, noting the contented, lazy smile that drifted over his features as he idly rubbed her belly in soft, circular motions. “Sheer hell?” she asked hopefully, and he laughed again.

“Yeah,” he agreed wistfully, “but I didn't have the heart to wake you, especially now when you get tired so easily.”

Buffy pressed as close to him as she could get with her added girth. Eagerly, she asked, “Will you make love to me now?”

“We can't now,” he said, disappointment coloring his tone.

“Why not?” Buffy sniffled, rubbing her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt.

“Because you've been planning this date with Willow for two weeks, and you're going to go have fun. If you're up to it later, we'll make love then, I promise,” he answered, kissing the tip of her nose.

“I'm going to hold you to that, buster,” she groused, huffing in frustration. She looked for all the world like she'd been cheated, when he actually believed the opposite. The fact remained that she was easily tired out and often fell asleep in his arms in the middle of whatever they happened to be doing at the time.

He grinned, and sketched a slight bow, “As my Penny Lady wishes, so shall it be. Come, I shall escort you to your handmaiden, Miss Willow, before rejoining the men on the jousting field.”

“I wish that I could slay still right now,” Buffy said serenely as he pulled a soft cashmere sweater over her head.

“However because you can't, I am exceedingly grateful,” he told her, with a handsome, charming smile on his face.

“Men!” Buffy said, curling into him as her fingers jabbed his sides playfully. “Just like you to get all macho manly on me.”

And he had too. They had had a knock down drag out fight over it near the end of her fourth month. She was restless, but he wasn't about to let her out of his sight at night, let alone let her slay. A menstruating slayer made the vampires in the area edgy, but he'd be damned if they got a whiff of her carrying their child. So instead Faith patrolled every night, covering as much ground as possible. Sometimes he went out with Faith, but often he'd sneak away from Buffy's side to patrol, and he and Faith would cross paths. When that happened, they'd usually end up going their own separate ways.

But every night that he did go out, before he started, he escorted Buffy to Giles' apartment or Willow'sm. Sm. She seldom bitched about it, and tonight she was excited to go. He'd go patrolling and make use of the time she and Willow had allotted for girl talk and baby things. Maybe he'd crash at Oz's for awhile and do the guy thing and rant with a delighted smile over every little thing Buffy did. It was quite possible that he'd head to Giles and work out under the watcher's shrewd eye, and try to improve his fighting style.

Hence the jousting field.

A wide grin covered his lips as he hugged her closer to him. “Shall I help you get ready?” he asked, pulling away from her to get some undergarments from her drawers before helping her slip into them.

Next he grabbed some of her new clothes out of the closet. He was partial to the lavender silk two piece dress and he took it off its hangers before returning to her. Buffy was watching him glide towards her, with her back to the mirror.

She was shaking her head fondly at him, with a smirk on her face. “You sure do love that outfit, don't you?”

“What can I say?” he teased, drawing the top over her head and gently stuffing her arms into the spaghetti strap sleeves. “I am prone to gorgeous pregnant women wearing silky lavender things-”

“That have been known to overly stimulate your wife's breasts and come with instant access due to its easy removal.”

He chuckled, helping her shimmy the flowing crinkle skirt over her hips. Giving her belly button a kiss, he stood up and took her hand in his. “Good thing the shoes that match are in the car; come, I shall fetch them for you.”

Her laugh tinkled in the air as she followed him out of their bedroom and down the hall, causing him to smile.

*****

Four days, nine hours, and twenty-two minutes later:

He entered her with one gradual thrust, being ever so careful with her. His mouth lay hot against her plump breast, his hands encircling their baby, his eyes dark with lust and love as he filled her to the brim. Buffy cried out, arching her hips, wordlessly demanding what she wanted.

She wanted him.

Her pert nipple pebbled tightly in his mouth as he laved it with long, slow sweeps of his tongue. She sighed his name, her voice breathy, full of emotion. He could hear the tears Buffy held back as he made love to her. Gently, oh so gently, he penetrated her, building them up bit by bit towards that shiny edge of orgasm.

Her breath scorched his skin when she whimpered at the acute sensations rolling through them. The baby kicked against his groin, stilling him. He paused, looking down, even as she cried out throatily, her fingernails raking over his flat nipples, down his chest, to dig into his hips in one fluid line of motion.

“Angel,” Buffy mewled plaintively, wiggling under him, stirring him once more.

Grinning in a purely masculine way, he leaned over to lick her pearled nipple. He glanced back down to watch himself slide back into her molten depths, feeling her velvety walls ripple around him. Looking up, he withdrew from inside her clinging sheath, searching for and finding her mouth.

He entered her again and again, drawing out every movement of his hips. Her legs gripped his butt, and she used her feet to push him into her farther. A deep husky chuckle escaped him when he felt her fingers grip him and tug him more quickly into her. The moment he kept that pace on his own, Buffy's fingers trailed upward to circle her slick weeping clitoris.

His fingers replaced hers, and shifting his weight to his hip he brought her hand to his mouth to suckle off all the juices still clinging to them. Buffy panted his name breathlessly, breaking off into a shout of pleasure when he simultaneously nibbled on them and pinched her little bundle of nerves between his fingers. He kissed her, muffling those keening mewls as she rippled around him, trapping him deep inside her dripping core. Groaning harshly, he ejaculated, coming with her at the same time.

They lay together, panting loudly. He rolled off of her, ever mindful of the baby, then kissed her sweetly on the lips.

“Hmm…” he whispered, “tasty.”

Buffy laughed, “Pig. I guess I love you in spite of everything.”

“I love you,” he told her quietly, nuzzling her jaw.

“Always, my Penny Maestro.”

“Forever, Penny Lady,” he murmured against her ear, “is the whole point.”

*****

Five Weeks and Two Days Later:

Giles frowned through the partition dividing the kitchen from the living room. “Say again?”

He looked up from where he was rubbing Buffy's swelling tummy to look at the man. Just as he was about to speak Buffy interrupted him. “I'm telling you, Giles, there are times when Angs tes temperature spikes above room temperature.”

“Impossible,” Giles said, disgruntled, setting the teapot down loudly on the stove. “He's a vampire.”

“Could this have anything to do with why Buffy got pregnant?” he asked, his hands running soothingly over her rounded belly.

That seemed to make the gray-haired man pause and then immediately whip off his glasses and clean them furiously. “I think that might explain a lot if it was.”

“How so?”

“Well,” Giles started, “if your spike in temperature is directly related to Buffy's pregnancy, then I would have to say that you getting hotter may make your sperm viable, if you will, and therefore able to impregnate her.”

“But why is he getting hot at all?” Buffy piped up, leaning back against the couch to see her watcher coming into the living room.

Giles handed each of them a cup of tea before retreating into the kitchen to get his own and the pot. He called out from the kitchen, “That's something I think Angel would know!”

“What would Angel possibly know?” Buffy asked looking as bewildered as she sounded.

“I think Angel should answer that one himself,” Giles murmured, sitting down beside Buffy.

Her head lolled onto his shoulder, and the older man wrapped his arm around her paternally, giving her a light kiss on the cheek.

She gazed back down at him, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Well?”

“I think Giles is hinting at the tasks I didle Ile I was away,” he said looking straightforwardly at the British man.

“Indeed,” Giles agreed, nodding his head, giving Buffy's arm a fond squeeze. “I am curious to know what your wish was at the time of your completion of the fourth task. I think that would give us some insight, because it is obvious that you wished for something beyond the ownership of your soul.”

He smiled then, glancing at Buffy. “I did,” he said simply.

“What did you wish for, Angel?” Buffy asked breathlessly.

“That you would always be happy or find a way to be happy.”

“Ah,” Giles said, taking a sip of tea. “Well then, there's your answer. Buffy wanted to bear your children, and I think if I'm not mistaken she might have turned you the slightest bit more human by wishing so.”

“Do you think?”

“Only time will tell,” Giles nodded in agreement, the moment Buffy's attention wavered flicking over to the vampire in question.

She squealed in delight, and he laughed and helped her off the couch and into his embrace. He snuggled into her warm neck and placed feverish kisses along its length.

“Buffy,” he said, as if that one word held it all.

And it did.

*****

Twenty-four Days and Eighteen Minutes Later:

His heart was in his mouth, clamoring in distress. Over the phone he could hear Willow's voice telling Faith to hit the receiver button and cancel the call.

“Come on, Faith, I swear to you Angel doesn't need to be called. Hang up the phone, Buffy's doing fine!” came Willow's muffled voice.

“She's not either!” Faith shouted back, “I swear to God, B looked like she was about to keel over. It's not natural.”

“Faith,” Willow admonished, “False labor isn't unnatural, just unexpected. It's not the real deal! Buffy is not in labor, I repeat not in labor, so hang up that phone before Angel picks it up. You're going to scare him half to death!”

The phone clicked off, leaving him surrounded in silence.

His knees felt weak, his hands shaky. He collapsed with a thud on the stool, knocking over his sketchbook so that it fell open face up on the floor.

With trembling hands, he picked it up, glancing down at his latest drawing. The book was almost full from the last nine months of portraying Buffy in a variety of poses as her pregnancy advanced. He smoothed his eraser over the smudge of charcoal he'd made in his haste to reach the phone.

His control was shot, and there was no way he'd be able to finish it now. Quaking, he shut the portfolio and stood up. He ran shaking fingers through his hair, and a moment later he was grabbing his keys and out the door. He had to pick Buffy up. Now.

*****

Delivery Day:

Six hours and thirteen minutes left…

Willow had insisted on hosting a baby shower now. He didn't understand it at all. Why hadn't she held it before she was nine months along and nearing ten? He was jumpy; every ounce of his being was in tune with every nuance of hers.

It didn't make much sense to him. Their connection hadn't been this intense since the beginning. Time had dulled it to a white noise, but now it was back full force and crawling along his skin, itching to be recognized.

He walked over to her, placing his hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. Buffy felt the edginess too, and that caused him to smile lightly and brave one electrifying kiss. It sizzled, making him tingle from head to toes.

Cordelia came up and handed them the first present, giving them a defiant stare. “It's nothing special, so don't make a big deal out of it.”

However, Buffy ripped open the gift and shrieked in delight. She waddled over to Cordy as quickly as possible, wrapping her in a bear hug. “It's perfect!” Buffy said, taking the plastic wrap off and pulling the pink baby blanket out.

It looked super soft and fluffy from where he sat. Buffy held it up for him to see, waving the snout in his direction. Turned out to be a cheeky pink pig with a blanket attached to its only body part: the head.

“It certainly is a good gift,” he agreed, coming up beside Buffy and taking the pig blanket to examine it. “It will work for a boy or a girl.”

Heh. Pigs in a blanket.

He handed it back to Buffy who cooed and rubbed it against her cheek.

“I thought so too,” Cordelia said, tugging on her shirt sleeves.

Willow giggled beside Oz, calling out to where the parents-to-be stood behind them. “Hey! Oz and I have gifts for you too!”

“So you're going to make me waddle my way over there?” Buffy retorted, smiling from ear to ear. “Some friend you are.”

Willow held up her hands and grabbed Buffy's when they came in reach, pulling her down between herself and Oz on the couch. Oz handed Buffy a small present wrapped in a paper grocery bag.

“Saving trees,” Oz said, answering the unspoken question when expectant father knelt at Buffy's feet.

“What do you think is inside it, Angel?” Buffy asked, nudging him with her foot so he'd take a piece of the wrapping paper from her.

“I just hope it isn't socks,” he replied noncommittally.

“Ye'll not be wanting t' open mine, then,” Doyle piped up cheekily, looking up from his book.

She giggled at that and tore the rest of the paper bag away, revealing a purple sling for the baby to ride in when Buffy or he were walking around and needed their hands. He shook Oz's hand, pumping once, then took the gift and wrappings away from Buffy.

“Oh that was clever,” Buffy gushed, “I wouldn't have thought of one of those until it was too late.”

“Oz is- hey are you all right?” Willow asked with a worried frown as Buffy hissed and closed her eyes, her body arching away from the couch.

Anxiously, he rubbed the sides of her huge belly, whispering in ic tic to her until she sat back and nodded her head. She'd been in pain this morning, too; he had woken up beside her, tracing the tears of pain from her eyes. Something was wrong. He knew it.

“I'm fine, Willow. It's just back pain.”

“Some back pain,” the redhead replied dubiously.

Buffy shook her head and waved away their concern. Giles handed her another cup of raspberry tea, stroking her hair softly.

“Are you quite all right there, Buffy?” Giles asked, concerned about her welfare.

“Yes!” Buffy exclaimed in exasperation. “I'm fine. There's no need to fret.”

At that she handed Oz's gift to him and plucked the next one from Willow's hands. Greedily, she tore open the paper and squealed as she launched, if that was the word, herself into her friend's arms. Buffy kissed Red on the cheeks a few times before turning and sho him him the gift.

“It's a picture frame, with dividers and baby decorations,” he said, nodding to it.

“Isn't it cute?” Buffy asked, giving it to him to place on the coffee table.

Faith sauntered over then and lounged on the back of the couch. She dismissively handed him the gift bag with tissue paper, watching Buffy through narrowed eyes. “Hey, B,” she greeted.

“Hey, F,” Buffy joked back.

Faith shook her head, nodding at him. “Go on, your little missus is opening them all, but this one is directed for the daddy in the family.”

“What is it?” Buffy inquired, bracing a hand on his shoulder so she could watch him open the present from very close range.

He shrugged, pulling out the coll til tissue paper, and peeked inside. Inside was a small baseball bat, glove, ball, and booties. Perfect for a little boy. His eyes glazed with excitement as he pulled them out to show Buffy.

“But what if it's a girl?” she asked dubiously.

“Not a problem, Buff,” Faith answered, leaning behind the back of the couch to retrieve something before stretching forward and giving her an identical bag. “There's one here from Jeeves. He took me shopping.”

“Thank you, Giles!” Buffy piped up, weeding the tissue paper out of the bag to get to the goodies beneath.

She laid the first object on her belly, rubbing the fabric gently betwixt her fingers, preoccupied. As she was going for the second little ballet slipper, Buffy gasped, clutching the bag between her fists until the blood left her hands.

“Buffy!” he shouted in alarm.

Buffy half sobbed, half collapsed into his arms, and he struggled to hold her upright as Willow and Faith dragged her back onto the couch to keep them both from falling. Willow clutched Buffy's sleeve, while Faith held her by the cloth at her neck even as Oz steadied them with his hands. Giles came running from the den where he'd been in giddy delight at the thought of perusing all of his old books.

The graying man skidded to a halt, and whispered a good British rendition of, “Dear God,” which was something like, “Oh crap,” in modern Amercian.

“Don't panic, everyone; it could be a false alarm,” he said, his hands pausing in the middle of whipping off his glasses to clean them. “Better to call the-”

Buffy's water broke then.

Shit.

He swallowed.

Willow looked up at Giles silence with a worried frown, “Giles, are you all right? You're looking a bit green.”

“Yeah, and muffin butt here is looking kind of paler than usual too, Red,” Faith observed, tucking a lock of Buffy's hair behind her ear.

Wetness soaked through his jeans, and the couch was sopping wet as well. It was trickling down Buffy's legs…

Oh dear God… he thought, dazed… Buffy's in labor…

Darkness rimmed the edges of his vision when Oz gave a shout and darted off the couch. He could barely make out the words the boy was saying when he looked back at them.

“Old men!” Faith ranted, her hands on her hips, before demanding, “Angel, would you call the doctor then?”

He looked at the watcher and noted wryly that Giles had fainted. A hint of a smile… well at least he wasn't the first to go down… then he fainted.

“Damn it, I'll do it myself,” Faith cursed stomping out.

“Hurry,” Buffy pleaded with a groan.

“Don't ye worry, peaches,” Doyle said soothingly, helping her stand. “Faith's got 't under control.”

*****

Fifteen minutes and forty-eight seconds ininining…

Buffy shrieked, tossing her head back and forth on the sweaty pillow. Shaking his aching hand, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek. He'd be lucky to make it through the birthing process without his hands being bruised, but he let her grip his hand and squeeze painfully.

He was doing his best to hide his worry, but it creased his brow despite his efforts with the pain in his fist. If someone had any mercy at all, they'd let him take her place. It hurt him to watch her in pain, and he grimaced, biting his lip with every contraction.

She'd have a few minutes reprieve before the next one hit. Gently, he wiped her brow, wondering what the hell was taking so long. Buffy smiled wanly at him, cuddling the coolness of his hands, running them over her fevered skin in between giving apologetic kisses on his palm.

The heart rate monitors for both of them, the baby and Buffy, chirped bleatingly as Dr. Lisa Diaz supervised the situation. She was coaching Buffy into breathing right so she'd be more relaxed between contractions.

A few contractions more had him whimpering. His grip on the railing of the bed was just as white knuckled as her grip on him. When the latest one was over, he listened to Diaz's voice and followed the instructions that she gave Buffy on her breathing. He was never putting her through this again. Never.

Everything was going fine until one of the monitors screeched out an alarm. Startled, he glanced at it to see the baby's heartbeat falter, slowing down drastically. The noise was so loud it drowned out their heartbeats. But then the doctor was there, urging Buffy to push as the next contraction came. At the height of it she looked up from her spot between Buffy's upturned legs yelling, “We need to do a caesarean-section now. Nurse!”

Fear clutched his throat as he saw Diaz squirt a needle once before sticking it in Buffy's abdomen. “This is so you won't feel anything, Buffy. Just relax, breathe easy.”

A drape was put over Buffy's stomach so that he couldn't see what was going on. “It's going to be okay,” he mumbled. He was going into shock.

No, this couldn't be happening. Not now, oh please not now, he thought desperately. Not to them, not to my wife and child. Please… please… please… don't die… I need you…

“Buffy,” he gurgled brokenly. The doctor's concentration was focused solely on the task at hand.

“Mr. O'Connor,” Diaz warned under her breath.

Panicking, he refocused his gaze on Buffy's face, studiously ignoring the doctor. He could smell Buffy's blood, and it made him sick to his stomach. Buffy cast her worried eyes up at him and managed a smile for him, but that didn't make him feel better. Worse even in fact.

“She's hemorrhaging! Nurse Murray, I need blood for a transfusion! Now!”

She barked more orders, but he barely heard them as he swallowed thickly, his fingers clenching around Buffy's hand. “Stay with me,” he whispered, tears clogging his throat and making his words hoarse.

He watched anxiously as the nurse came back with what the doctor called out for. His heart lodged in his throat. He looked quickly down at her drowsy countenance, and his fear went up another notch. He shook her shoulder at the same moment that her heart rate monitor slowed down.

“God, no. No. No. Buffy!” he shouted, tearful trails falling down his face.

“She's lost too much blood,” he heard Diaz tell Murray under her breath re sre swearing roundly. “Mr. O'Connor, we can't save both of them,” she said, still working busily. “There isn't enough time. I'm going to ask you to make a very difficult decision. Do you want us to save your wife or the child?”

“Both, damn it!” he lamented raggedly, breaking into a sob.

“Mr. O'Connor, I suggest you leave the room. James will see you out,” Doctor Diaz said, her voice firm with authority.

“The hell I will!” he growled. “Save them.”

“Mr. O'Connor, please,” Murray persuaded, “you don't want to be here for this.”

“Buffy,” he croaked, burying his face in her hair as he caressed her arm. “You promised me always. Don't break it.”

“Mr. O'Connor, you're not helping your wife right now. We need you to leave and let us help her.”

“No, I won't leave her,” he growled swiftly.

The heartbeats on both monitors dropped again.

He was going to lose them…

“I love you,” he whimpered.

“Murray, I need you now!” Diaz shouted impatiently.

“Strong is fighting,” he told her… them… “Fight now… for me… for us…”

He thought he saw the faintest trace of a smile on her lips, and his hope soared. Caressing her softly, he watched for any sign of consciousness from her.

The doctor straightened up, the baby still in her hands. With quick, efficient movements she tied and cut the cord, cleared the throat of mucus and smacked the baby's back.

His whole world focused on that bloody pink form. Tension tightened his shoulders as he held himself stiffly, almost detached. But the relief was momentous when the baby started wailing pitifully. He sagged against the railed bed and wept.

“It's a girl,” Dr. Diaz announced in tired relief. “I'm going to try to save your wife now, but there isn't much hope, Mr. O'Connor. This might be an exercise in heartbreak.”

Nurse Murray took his daughter and left for the natal wing of the hospital. Nurse James then stepped up, handing over items when necessary. Machines continued to wail incessantly until they were shut off with force, leaving only hers on.

“Come on Buffy,” he whispered almost inaudibly. “Don't leave us, Penny Lady, we need you.”

Time seemed to stop, and his whole being pulsed with fear. His heart lumped painfully in his throat as her heartbeat remained masked by frantically woeful bleeps. He nuzzled his nose against her cheek, crying. Tears rolled down his chin, hitting her face in soft little plops.

He whispered her name over and over again, running his hands along her skin. She was still warm. Still warm. She wasn't dead. Buffy wasn't dead. Her breathing was labored, shallow and thin, but she wasn't dead.

“I love you,” he wept bitterly, peppering her face with kisses.

The operating room was suddenly silent.

Frozen, he lookp. Hp. Hope seared his gut before plummeting at the sight of Diaz and James covered in Buffy's blood. “Is,” he choked, “is she…”

“Alive?” Dr. Diaz smiled, “Barely. Get her to ICU. We were lucky. Mr. O‘Connor, move aside.”

He clasped Buffy's hand in his, squeezing lightly as they wheeled her away. “When will I get to see either of them?”

“When they're stable. Your daughter will be ready for you as soon as she's cleaned up and taken care of, but Mrs. O'Connor I can't be sure about.”

“I'm not leaving her side,” he growled, taking a step forward to where they were moving her bed out.

“You can't do anything for her right now, but you can hold your baby girl,” Diaz said sensibly.

He nodded meekly, sagging as the adrenaline left him in a rush. They were okay. Both of them. They were going to be okay. That's when the body-wracking shudders set in, and he stumbled, blinded by a renewal of tears.

“Never again,” he swore, covering his mouth with his hands as he slumped against the wall, wiping away his tears.

*****

It ends:

Three hours later they let him into Buffy's room in the Intensive Care Unit, where he stood cradling the life that they brought into this world. Pacing the room from the door to the bed to the window and back, he made a circuit around the room, rocking their daughter.

He wasn't going to name her until Buffy woke and they chose one together. A fierce protectiveness grew in his heart, overwhelming him as he watched them both sleep. They were his, and he wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt them. Not as long as there was a breath in his body.

While Buffy was sleeping off the drugs they'd pumped her full of, he'd started breathing… probably because his heart had jolted awake after 250 years plus of existence the moment he picked up his baby girl. He'd been shocked and a little bit nervous about the whole thing. When Doyle had asked what was wrong, he'd shrugged it off, preferring to wait until Buffy woke up to tell her first.

“She's already daddy's little girl, isn't she?” came Buffy's sleepy voice.

He spun around too quickly, and the baby fussed. “Want to hold her?” he asked, wetting his lips.

Buffy held out her arms and he placed the infant in them gently, lightly touching the downy hair on her fragile head.

“Have you named her?” she askcouncounting fingers and toes.

“I almost lost you,” he said miserably. "Both of you."

She held him then, wrapping her free arm around his neck. “I love you,” she whispered fiercely as he hugged her tightly.

Their daughter started protesting at the close confines, which made Buffy laugh tiredly before handing her back to him.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Like I've been torn apart and then shredded like so much confetti.”

Shaking his head at her, he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “You did good.”

Buffy looked down at the infant in his arms and smiled proudly. “I did, didn't I?”

He nodded, letting his mouth hover over hers.

“But then again you did too,” she continued breathlessly, their lips now separated by a fraction of an inch.

“Shut up, Mrs. O'Connor,” he said, kissing her.

When they pulled apart, she sighed. “What are we going to call daddy's little girl?”

“I waited for you to wake up-”

“I know.”

He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, well, what if I chose the wrong one out of the ones we were thinking of for a little girl?”

“I would have staked you,” Buffy said readily.

“Yeah, uh,” he looked down.

“Angel?” Buffy asked worriedly. “What's wrong?”

Taking her hand in his he placed it ovis his heart, where it thumped rapidly against her palm. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, and she licked her lips.

“Oh my God. Oh my God! Angel!” Buffy exclaimed excitedly. “Your heart is beating.”

“I'm alive,” he agreed, his grin widening at her excitement. “And I think I have you to thank for that.”

“So girl names?” she whispered breathily, running her hand over his chest in amazement.

“Kathy-Lee, Kylie-Anna, and Kira-Leah,” he ticked off. “We narrowed it down to those three.”

“Then got stuck,” Buffy laughed, tracing her fingers down his chest to linger sweetly over their baby's head.

He switched the baby to his other arm and settled back against the headboard. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he said, “I think she looks like a Kira-Leah. Don't you?”

“Hmm, yes,” Buffy concurred, patting his thigh and scooting over to make more room for him beside her. “And we can always name our other girls Kathy-Lee and Kylie-Anna.”

“What do you mean other girls?” he asked defensively. “We're not having anymore. I'm not going to lose you.”

“Angel.”

“No, Buffy, I can't do all this again. I can't.”

“A son or two?” Buffy interjected, biting her lip when he shook his head vehemently. “But Angel-”

“No. Kira-Leah is it, Buffy. You almost died,” he shuddered, closing his eyes.

A few minutes passed where she rested her head against his shoulder, curling a strand of hair around her finger. “I love you, Angel, and we‘ll talk about this later,” she said quietly, just as the door opened and a nurse came through.

He glowered at her but kept quiet as the nurse checked Buffy's vitals, clucking her tongue.

“How are you, Mrs. O'Connor?” the nurse asked, looking at her clipboard. “It's nice to see you awake. Your recovery is amazing to say the least. We'll be moving you into the maternity ward, where Dr. Diaz will come and talk to you.”

Buffy looked at him then and smirked knowingly. Three cheers for slayer healing.

“I'm all right,” she confirmed. “When will I be moving?”

“As soon as your new room is ready.”

Buffy encircled her arms around his bicep relaxing against him. “What do you think about Ryan f boy boy?”

He pointed a finger at her warningly and growled. “Don't start.”

“Start what?” Buffy asked coyly.

“That,” he said, waving his finger at her. “This three penny family isn't becoming four ever.”

“Then I guess I'm going to have to find me another Penny Maestro,” she threatened sweetly.

“Try it, Penny Lady, and I'll,” he broke off suddenly, unsure of how to end it.

She pulled his head down to hers so she could whisper in his ear. “You'll try what exactly? This?” Then she told him what she was thinking. When he growled she giggled, and licked his ear. “Interested?”

-The End.-