“Oh my God! I can’t believe you actually snuck this by me...” Buffy looked around at the women gathered in her mother’s living room. She’d had no idea whatsoever that a baby shower had been in the works for her (and the baby, of course), so when she walked through her front door after a rather long day at work she was surprised to see all of her friends, her mother, and her employer waiting for her.

“Buffy, you really didn’t think that we’d pass up a tradition like this, did you?” Joyce walked over and helped her daughter with her bag and coat and ushered her to a comfortable seat placed at the centre of the room. “Now sit down and put your feet up--I’ll go get you a cold drink, then we can start the fun.”

The young woman watched her mother disappear into the kitchen, then turned to those who were gathered around her: there was her boss, Pauline, and--of course--Willow, Tara, and Anya. “You guys all knew about this, and managed to keep it from me?” She turned to Anya in particular. “Especially you! You’re the worst when it comes to secrets. How did you manage?”

The ex-vengeance demon frowned and glared at Willow. “Hmph. Threats were made. Involving certain long-eared rodents.” She shivered, remembering the redheaded witch’s words of warning. Keeping secrets was easy when you ran the risk of being invaded by rabbits every time you had sex. Stupid, cruel witch. If only I still had some of my powers, she‘d think twice about threatening me... She shivered at the thought of rabbits hopping about on her pristine floors, their little noses twitching evilly as they taunted her with their mere presence.

Buffy’s eyes turned to her left, where an assortment of brightly wrapped presents, baskets and bags were stacked. She leaned over and, stretching, tried to peek into a bag that had baby rabbits on it. Definitely not from Anya, she mused.

“Buffy Summers! You keep your hands to yourself--absolutely no peeking until those gifts are ready to be opened!”

Really, you’d think her daughter was eight, the way she still acted around presents... Joyce handed her daughter a glass of juice and sat in a folding chair to her right. She picked up a small gift bag and handed it to the expectant mother. “Now, every gift has a number on it. As the party moves on, you get to pick numbers out of this bag--that will let you know which gifts to open. But first, let’s start with a game...”

***

Two hours, five games, and a couple of platefuls of hors-d’oeuvres later, Buffy sat back in the recliner and exhaled deeply. She’d received such a varied assortment of gifts, all wonderful in their own way. Willow and Tara had given her a baby monitor--the one with the pad that you put underneath the baby to monitor life signs; her boss had given her a basket of stuff, including a handmade blanket, some tiny sleepers and a rattle; and her mom and Giles had bought her a musical rocker. But it was Anya’s gift (and why was she surprised--really, why was she?) that had shocked the whole gathering. She had given Buffy a black and red see-through negligee with some aromatic massage oil (and some other ’toys’ that the Slayer had kept hidden in the wrapping). After the collective gasp and deafening silence, the ex-demon found herself obliged to explain her gift.

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair that everyone forgets about the mother at these silly get-togethers. I mean, just because she’ll have a baby it won’t mean that she won’t want any orgasms anymore. Really--she’ll need them more than ever. Orgasms are relaxing and pleasurable and will provide much needed down-time in between feeding and diaper changing.” She nodded and smiled to herself.

Buffy opened her mouth and shut it a few times before deciding on how to respond to Anya’s little speech. “You know what, Anya? In the weirdest and wackiest way possible, you’re probably right. It might not make any sense right now, but I’m sure that after the baby’s born I’ll appreciate the... gifts you got me.” Leaning over, she hugged the ex-demon. “Thank you.”

She’d opened the gifts from everyone who was present, and no one (save for her mother, from the look on her face) seemed to know who the last one was from. The fact that the gift didn’t have a number on it also piqued her interest--it was obviously meant to be opened last.

Anya, not being very good with suspense, broke the silence. “Well, don’t just sit there staring at it! Open it up--this excitement is causing strange feelings in my stomach and I don’t like it!”

Shaking her head, smirk on her lips, Buffy acquiesced to the request. On top of the box was a plain white envelope, much different than the assortment of colourful baby cards she’d received with her other gifts. No pastel colours, no flowers, no rattles or pacifiers. Just a standard white 8 x 11 envelope. She tore it open, only to find a note written on lined paper. Ok, whoever this is from isn’t into cutesy things...

Now, she’d come close to crying a few times over the course of the party, especially when she’d laid eyes on the blanket that Pauline had crocheted her, but this note broke her not-so-firm resolve.

She read and re-read the short note through tears, until she felt everyone’s eyes on her. Sniffling, she apologized before stuffing the note in her blouse pocket. “Sorry...” She looked at her mother, who only gave her a knowing smile. Of course she’s in on this... Turning back to the large box, she began to slowly unwrap it, trying to make this moment last as long as possible. She had no idea what the vampire had bought her--she’d looked at so many baby things in the newspapers...

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that befell her when the wrapping was finally removed. A collective gasp went around the room at the sight of the brand new stroller that was contained in the box.

Willow was the first to speak up. “Oh, Buffy! Isn’t that the one that we were looking at when we went shopping a few months ago? The one where we were wondering who’d be crazy enough to pay...”

“Yeah.” The Slayer was in a daze as she sat back and stared at the box. Part of her wanted to refuse the gift--it was really too much, honestly. Who needed cup holders and all-terrain wheels, and three storage compartments... But the other part of her--the one who’d been staring at the stroller for months upon months--was doing backflips and whooping noises. “This is the one.”

Anya brusquely shattered the quiet moment. “Well, it’s nice to know that you have a man who’s willing to spend lots of money on you.” She stared back at all the weird looks she was getting. “What? It’s the truth. Xander spends lots of money on me, and it makes me happy...”

“Bu.. but how do you know who sent it?” Tara was confused. Did she miss something? She was usually on the ball, but Anya’s non-linear thought patterns often sped light years ahead of her own.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? She’s opened all our gifts, so it had to be someone who didn’t want to be here. There wasn’t a card--nothing cute like we girls spent valuable time and effort looking for, and the wrapping doesn’t have anything to do with babies. It almost looks like Christmas paper... Who else would this be from, but a man?” Were these people all stupid? Women shouldn’t have to be around for a millennium to figure this stuff out...

No one had an answer to the ex-demon’s rhetorical question. Once again, Anya was ten steps ahead of everyone. Her quirks made her come off as a ditz, but more often than not, she was more perceptive than the lot of them put together. They all sat back, sipping their drinks or examining the door prizes they’d won, happy that Buffy had someone who cared for her.

***

When all their guests had left, Buffy and Joyce sat at the kitchen table, chatting about the gifts that she’d received.

“You knew about the stroller, didn’t you?”

Joyce sighed. “Yes, I did. Spike actually gave me the money to go out and buy it for him--I don‘t think he‘s quite ready to be seen buying baby stuff yet. He wrapped it himself, though.”

Buffy giggled. “I kinda figured that out myself. I think he used up two rolls of tape--you’d think that 3M sponsored the present, or something. That and...” A bang, coming from upstairs, stopped her in mid-sentence. “Did you hear that?”

“That would be another present, one from Rupert and me.” Joyce winced at the language that was coming from upstairs. She’d made Spike promise to sneak in and be quiet, but that vow was now shot to hell.

“But didn’t you guys get me the swing?” Was that Spike, upstairs? No one, not even Giles, could swear a blue streak like him.

“That was a bit of a... side present, I guess you’d call it. Your other present, which was supposed to be a secret until later, is upstairs--either being put together or broken into little pieces, from the sound of it.”

Using the table for leverage, Buffy stood up. “Well, let’s go see what Mr. Pottymouth is up to. The sight alone of him putting something together is worth it.” She turned to her Mother, evil grin in place. “You don’t happen to have any film left on that disposable camera, do you?”

***

“Look, if you think this is so bloody funny, you can put the fu... stupid thing together...” Even in his piss-poor mood, Spike hadn’t forgotten his vow to try to curb the worst of his cursing before the baby’s arrival.

He threw a two-sided leaflet at the Slayer, who was sitting on the floor beside him laughing. “The English instructions are useless, as are the French and Spanish ones. Maybe if I could make out the Korean ones, I’d be able to get this bleeding thing put together before the bit’s born...”

Buffy took the paper in hand and looked it over. Not the easiest to follow, but after the whole dorm-room Ikea incident, they were a cinch. “Look, why don’t we just take everything apart, set it all out and try again. You guys always do this--guess it doesn’t matter if you were born yesterday or over a century ago--you just try to put stuff together and only use the instructions as a backup plan...” She wrenched the Allen key from his hand and begun to pull the screws out of the base. “You know, if we follow the instructions step by step, we’ll be done in an hour, tops.”

She then turned towards her mother, who was still standing in the doorway. “And you... I can’t believe you and Giles actually went out and bought a crib! I’m sure the one in LA would have done--you didn’t have to go out and spend lots of money on a new one.”

Spike sat back on his haunch and watched the young woman skilfully deconstruct his attempt at putting the crib together and nag her mother at the same time. Multitasking was definitely a woman’s strong point, he observed wryly.

“Honey, we wanted to get you a nice gift...”

“But the rocker was nice!”

“...and we didn’t trust a used crib. It may have looked sturdy, but who knows what it’s been through? For all you know, someone might have crazy-glued it together.” Joyce sighed, watching her daughter sort all the rungs and hardware into neat little piles--she’d never thought she’d add ‘well organized’ to Buffy’s attributes. “We just want what’s best for the baby--you can at least acknowledge that my first grandchild will be more spoiled than anyone else’s...”

Buffy chuckled as she opened the last of the plastic bags with her teeth. How the hell had Spike gotten so much done without the 1 1/2” screws? “I know, Mom. It’s just I feel weird that everyone’s spending so much money on stuff. I’m not going to turn any of it down, but I just feel awkward.” Addressing the vampire, she pointed to one of the piles of wooden lengths. “See those? Put them together like this (she pointed to a drawing on the instructions) with those screws over there...” She handed him the Allen key and turned her attention back to her Mother. “You know what I mean, though, don’t you?”

If Joyce had ever had any doubts as to her daughter’s ability to manage a household, this little scenario quashed them all. Watching Buffy take charge of a project and see it through in a logical, organized manner and getting her boyfriend to follow instructions (/*cough* orders *cough*) without a word, well... it made her feel proud. “Yes, I know exactly what you’re talking about, but you don’t have to worry. No one feels pressured into helping you--we’re doing it because we want to. Your job is to just sit back and let yourself get pampered. Oh, and oversee the assembly of furniture, obviously.”

“Well, someone’s got to make sure that the baby doesn’t have to crawl into the crib from underneath the mattress...”

Spike looked up from his corner of the room and scowled. “Look, ‘s not my fault the bloody things are more complicated than I thought. It’s supposed to be simple, innit? ‘Here, put these four sides together and put the baby in the middle’...” He continued to grumble as he screwed in the last set of bolts. “It’d also be nice if they provided some tools that were longer than an inch long. Who the hell’s supposed to be able to use this bloody thing, anyway? A five year-old?”

“Well, I think this is my cue to bow out for now. I’ll go down and make us some supper--how does chicken fettuccini sound?” No way was Joyce staying around long enough to get hooked into the assembly team--she’d done it often enough that she more than deserved a ‘get out of jail free’ card on this one. Heck, the Ikea incident at Buffy’s dorm should have absolved her of a lifetime of furniture assembly...

“Ooh! Yum! Yes, go and fix dinner--we’ll be ok on our own!”

Spike remained silent, still trying to figure out what the hell the crib company was thinking when the only tool they’d provided was a miniature wrench...

***

“It’s a nice crib, once it’s assembled correctly--isn’t it?” Buffy couldn’t help but throw in a little jab as she and Spike sat back in the baby’s room after having assembled her ‘surprise’ present.

“Hmph--you just watch it, Slayer. Might not be that good at putting together baby furniture, but I’ve never heard you complain about my massages...” Spike didn’t mind the teasing, but figured he had to fight back a little, at least--for image‘s sake. He helped Buffy scoot in between his legs, with her back to him. Letting his hands do their magic on the knots in her muscles, he asked her if she’d had a nice party.

“Oh, it was so much fun! Willow and Tara got me a baby monitor--one I hadn’t seen anywhere. I don’t know where they got it, but it’s really neat--it comes with a pad that you put under the baby’s sheets that monitors the breathing, or heartbeat or something. Anyway, if the baby stops breathing it lets you know. Um, what else... Oh yeah--Pauline gave me a bunch of different stuff, like clothes and a cute toy and this really nice blanket that she knitted or crocheted or something--it’s yellow, since we don’t know if the baby’s a girl or a boy. And she gave me a ton of bibs--she said something about needing as many as I can get my hands on. Mom agreed, and they began to exchange baby stories. And Anya...”

Spike felt Buffy’s back tense up before her head bent forward, slowly shaking from side to side. “I was so embarrassed. You should see what she bought. She actually got me some sexy lingerie, some massage oil and some ‘toys‘... I managed to leave the toys in the bag without anyone noticing, but I’d pulled out the garter belt before seeing what it was. Do you know what her reasoning was? She said that I’d need plenty of orgasms after the baby was born, to keep relaxed... I swear, sex is all that girl ever thinks about.”

“Makes sense to me, luv. I can’t imagine finding the time for the massage oil, but the kinky knickers? Think of it--you’ll have your body back like it was before,” he trailed a finger down along her side, skimming her breast, and nuzzled the side of her neck, “and I’m sure you’ll be feeling right sexy again.” He turned her around to face him, and pressed his lips against hers for a long, slow kiss. Breaking away, he waggled his eyebrows.

“And what’s this about toys, then?”

Author's Note: Well, I have to admit this one came faster than I expected, but slower than I'd hoped (if that makes any sense). There's supposed to be a Christmas chapter coming up soon, but I don't know if I'll have it done by Xmas... Anyway, please read and review, as always :)