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. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Katherine'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 Katherine 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 knowing her own father had never loved her the same way. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Still half asleep, Spike leaned over Katherine'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 Katherine'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. Katherine 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...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. "I always did." ~~The End~~