Title: His Girls
Summary: In the happier times, there are no stages to be worked through - there's only Life.
Warnings: Extreme schmoop lies within. The baby's only gotten cuter, so be forewarned.
Timeline: Post-Not Fade Away. Sequel to "To Be Born Again"
Word Count: 500
Author's Note: Why yes, the babyfic has run away with me! I'm sure it's just a phase. There's only so much schmoop I can take before I melt into a puddle of goo and fade away. Lovely banner is by the talented
She awoke to his fingers nimbly unbuttoning her nightgown.
“Spike, what are you doing?”
“Don’t call her that,” she grumbled.
“It’s her name.”
“No, it’s not. Charlotte. Char-lotte.”
Squinting, Buffy finally spied her daughter in the crook of his arm. Reaching for her, she settled back against the headboard and guided her tiny mouth to her nipple. Frowning, she asked, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He shrugged. “You were tired. Figured I could work it out myself.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Never heard you complain when I sucked you off while you were sleeping before, now did I?”
Buffy dropped the groceries on the counter, calling, “Hey, I’m home! What’s everybody want for dinner - oomph!”
She laughed and pulled her daughter off her leg, frowning at the smears of red staining the floral fabric of her skirt. Charlotte grinned toothily, raspberry jam dribbling down her chin.
“Looks like someone’s been spoiling her appetite,” Buffy chastised, grabbing a dishcloth and rubbing her chin clean.
Charlotte barked and bit the cloth just as Spike ran into the kitchen, growling through his fangs, lines of jam running from his mouth.
“Spike, stop encouraging her to play Big Bad with you.”
“Spike, what are you doing?” Buffy narrowed her eyes.
“Nothing,” he scoffed. “Come on, Charlie, let’s go play. Give your mum some peace and quiet.”
He pointed Charlie towards the living room, walking backwards away from Buffy with one arm hidden behind him.
“Spike,” Buffy said, her voice dropping low. “You better not… Spike, put those scissors down!”
“Oh, give over. Her hair needs trimmin’!”
“Cut off one of those blonde curls and I will end you.”
“At least let me gel it back for her!”
“I wants the gel, Mommy,” Charlie cried, pushing her hair back. “Hair like Daddy!”
“You’re covered in bumps, lil scrapper,” Spike said, duct-taping the mittens tight around Charlie’s wrists. “No scratching, you hear?”
“But it itches!”
“I don’t care if it burns like hellfire. No scratching. Now hold still.” He squirted a dollop of calamine lotion into his palm and rubbed the red abrasions on her forearms.
Charlie squirmed, whining, “It itches, Daddy.”
“Hold still or I’ll chain you down,” he growled.
“No, you won’t!” Charlie giggled. “Mommy won’t let you.”
“Mommy will if you don’t let Daddy finish so he can do me next,” Buffy grumbled, scratching the red bumps on her arms.
Charlie banged her way through the front door and ran up the stairs.
“You get back here, young lady!” Buffy yelled.
“What’d she do now?” Spike asked.
“She punched Jimmy Saunders in the nose at school today.”
He snorted. “Wonder where she got that from.”
“She’s in second grade! She can’t go around hitting kids.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
Not bothering to knock, he walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. “So what’d Jimmy boy do?”
“He tried to kiss me. So I punched him just like you told me to.”
He smiled proudly. “That’s my girl.”