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Title: The F.G.U.
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks.
Rating: Up to NC-17
Summary: See chapter one



Part six......

Ten months later...



Buffy groaned and buried her face in her pillow.

"She can't be hungry again," she whined, irritably.

Spike leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder. "I'll
go," he whispered. "Try and go back to sleep."

"I knew there was a reason I love you so much,"
Buffy mumbled, pushing away a twinge of guilt
for not jumping out of bed to provide maternal
comfort to the daughter she'd nursed less than an
hour ago.

Sleep was a precious commodity these days. She
couldn't even remember the last time she'd had
a full night's worth.

Motherhood was turning out to be more difficult
than she'd imagined. The tiny life that had been
entrusted to her was a demanding little soul that
needed constant attention.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Emily's needs were few and quite basic; frequently
changed diapers..a full tummy...and an unending
supply of love.

Spike handled most of the diaper duty, and
never complained about it, even when the job
was a particularly smelly one. In his eyes, every-
thing his baby girl did was wonderfully clever.

Everything.

He was recording every day of their child's life
in a 'baby book' that he'd found in the store where
they'd gone shopping for cribs, car seats, and
strollers.

Every tiny yawn, every burp, every wave of
her little fist...all of it went into the book, cap-
tured for posterity. Nothing was too small or
insignificant, and he'd taken it to the ridiculous
extreme of writing down the time and date of
the baby's first soiled diaper.


Buffy was in charge of the 'full tummy' require-
ment. Her healthy young body was producing
enough milk for two babies, so much so that
Emily would drift off and leave her mother
with an uncomfortably engorged breast.

She hated using the pump that the hospital had
provided, prompting Spike to offer her the relief
she sought.

Once the baby's needs had been satisfied, he'd
change her and return her to her crib. After
climbing back into bed, he'd gather up the
heavy mound of Buffy's swollen breast, nursing
at it until it was empty.

It caused a curious combination of feelings
within her that ranged from nurturing tender-
ness, to raging sexual arousal.


The unending supply of love and devotion was
something they shared equally in providing.

But, while Buffy loved the baby completely,
Spike worshiped her. As far as he was con-
cerned, she was the most beautiful baby to
ever draw a breath, and no one had best try
and tell him differently.

He was endlessly fascinated by her, and spent
countless hours just holding her, studying
every nuance of her sweet face.

Buffy would sometimes stand in the open door-
way of the nursery, watching him as he walked
their daughter around the room, introducing her
to all her stuffed animals, and talking to her as
though she understood everything he said.

In fact, Spike doted on the baby so completely that
Buffy would feel an occasional pang of envy and
sadness when she'd realized that her own father
had never loved her the same way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Still half asleep, Spike leaned over Emily's
crib and scooped her up, wrapping her in a thin
cotton blanket. "What's the matter, princess?" he
asked, pacing around the room with her. "Tummy
bothering you?"

"If she could speak," a chipper voice informed
him, "she would tell you that she feels quite well,
but merely wanted some company."

Instinctively clutching the baby closer, he whipped
around and found himself face to face with.....

"Mrs. Potter, I presume?" he said, relaxing his
hold on Emily's small body. He had no trouble
recognizing the woman. Buffy had described
her perfectly.

"I am indeed," the woman replied. "And most
pleased to meet you at last." Placing her tapestry
bag on the floor, she moved closer and placed one
hand on the baby's back.

Emily immediately quieted, snuggling her little
face against her father's shoulder.

Spike was amazed...and grateful. "You should come
around more often."

Mrs. Potter smiled. "I've always had a way with
babies. May I?" she asked, holding out her arms.

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Spike transferred the infant
into the woman's arms without hesitating.

Cradling the baby securely against her bosom,
Mrs. Potter walked over to the antique rocking
chair and settled down in it.

"Well, just look at you," she murmured, setting
the rocker in motion. "I must say, your mother and
father did a lovely job." She looked at Spike. "She's
quite perfect, isn't she?"

He nodded in whole hearted agreement. "THAT'S
what I keep saying, but everyone else tries to tell
me that nobody's perfect."

"Well, shows what THEY know, hmm?" She looked
back down at the nearly asleep baby. "She's a
beautiful, healthy and very happy little girl. If that's
not perfection, then I can't imagine what is."

"Of course she's beautiful," Spike said. "She
looks like her mother."

"Yes, she does. But, she has her father's eyes,
doesn't she? Such a lovely shade of blue. I've always
thought so." She glanced up at him. "However, I must
tell you that she's also inherited your temper and impulse
control problem."

Spike frowned. "I don't have an impulse control...."

Mrs. Potter cleared her throat sharply, raising her
eyebrows.

He backed down. "I'm working on it."

"This child," Mrs. Potter said, "is a very special
gift, given to you two because you have proved
yourselves to be worthy and deserving of her. I
expect no less than your most sincere efforts." She
gave him a stern look. "Is this understood?"

Spike felt put on the spot in a way he hadn't
been since being called on the carpet by his
mother for some transgression. "Yes...ma'am."

Returning her gaze to the baby in her arms, Mrs.
Potter lifted her and pressed a gentle kiss to
her forehead. "There now, darling," she said
quietly, "safe as houses you'll be. Your mother
and father will take wonderful care of you." She
cut another quick glance at Spike, who nodded
in reply. "They'll make sure you're warm in the
winter and cool in the summer...that you have
plenty of NOURISHING food...they'll play with
you, and read you lovely stories...and someday,
much sooner than they would like, out the door
you'll go to school. And I will always be close by,
you have my promise."

Rising to her feet, she gave the baby back to
her father, and picked up her bag.

"Now," she said briskly, "remember...to the
dentist every six months, and the doctor at least
once a year. Make certain she eats properly...not
too many sweets, and that she's well bundled in
cold weather. She'll be prone to ear infections, the
poor darling, so keep a sharp watch for them. See
to it that she's always restrained snugly in an
automobile, and that she wears a safety helmet when
you teach her to ride a bicycle. Try not to panic
when she's learning to walk. Every baby gets a
few bumps and bruises when they start toddling.
Fix the lock on the basement door...swimming
lessons before she goes anywhere near a body
of water larger than her bathtub....oh, and when
she's four, she'll want a kitten. Let her have one."

Wishing he had a piece of paper to write all this
information down, Spike just nodded at every
pronouncement.

"I shall be checking in from time to time," Mrs.
Potter continued. "and Buffy knows how to get in
touch with me if necessary."

Although she was ready to take her leave, she
paused another moment and took in the sight
before her. "You know...you're going to be just
fine, all of you," she said, her mouth curving in a
tender smile. "I always knew you'd be a wonderful
father, William. I'm very proud of you."

Before he could gather his wits to respond,
the woman was gone, leaving behind a faint
scent of lavender....the fragrance his mother
had been so fond of. His.....

"Nah....can't be," he said to the baby, shaking his
head. "Besides...my mum's name was Anne Penmar,
not Abigail...Potter...."

His words trailed off when he felt the ghost of a kiss
whisper across his cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


As tired as she was, she wasn't drifting back
to sleep. After fifteen minutes of trying, Buffy
kicked off the blankets and went to the bathroom.

On her way back to bed, she paused at the
nursery door and looked in.

Spike was standing in the middle of the room,
wearing nothing but a pair of black silk pajama
pants and holding a tiny bundle, wrapped up in
a pink cotton receiving blanket, against his
shoulder.

And a fussy little bundle it was.

"S'all right, princess," he murmured, gently
patting her back. "Tell Daddy what you want,
and he'll get it for you."

Buffy smiled and leaned against the side of
the door. She could watch this particular
scenario for hours and never get tired of it.
It was such a kick to watch Sunnydale's most
notorious "big bad" soothing a cranky baby.

Not that his behavior had surprised her. Spike
had always had a nurturing side when it came to
the women in his life, a facet of his personality
that could probably be traced all the way back to
his relationship with his invalid mother. Buffy had
noticed it first with Drusilla, and then...to a
slightly lesser degree...with Dawn.

"What's that song you're humming?" she
asked, joining her little family in the middle of the
room. "It's pretty."

Spike smiled and cuddled the baby closer as
her fussiness calmed and she fell back to sleep.
"Just an old folk song," he murmured. "Something
my mother used to sing to me."

Buffy leaned against him, stroking the baby's
soft cap of light brown hair. "I think she likes it."

Spike nodded, gazing out the window. "I always did."



~~The End~~





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