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CHAPTER 32 -- EPILOUGE

Author’s Note: Well, this is it! I owe this entire story to Carol, who’s idea this whole story was. I’m so grateful she let me take her idea and make it my own. I’m so very proud of this story (my longest). But, alas, all good things must come to a Spuffy-happy end. What’s next for me you may ask? (If you could care less, then just skip this part) Well, I’ll be working on some non-AU stories, fixing some old ideas that I’ve had for a while. So look for me at Spuffy Realm and Buffy and Spike Central. I’m currently playing around with a Spuffy AU idea that has the Scoobies as kids in flashbacks.
Thanks to baby spikes for the motivation, Essi and her friend’s patient hamster, Cordykitten, BuffyandSpikeForever, Beth, hotlippedjen, and everyone else who reviewed!

Oh, hey, I read this fanfic and now I can’t remember who wrote it, what it was called, or where I found it. It was all the Scoobies as kids. They’re in Mr. Giles 2nd or 3rd grade class. Buffy’s new, and her and Spike instantly hate each other (he keeps yanking her pigtail). Spike is Giles’ son. Their class puts on the Wizard of Oz for their class play. Buffy get the role of Dorothy and Spike as the Tinman. She has to kiss him on the cheek in the play. If anyone has any info on this story -- it would be greatly appreciated!

So, without further ado, the last chapter of Game of Love:

1 1/2 years later . . .

He came in through the door, escaping the overwhelming heat of summer and welcoming the cool rush of air-conditioning. She was sitting on the couch, folding cotton candy pink onesies and matching miniature socks no longer than his pinky.

She looked up at him, bright hazel eyes shining.

“Hey,” she greeted as he stopped in front of her to press his lips against hers, “You’re home early.”

“Got through the last appointment quick and Tara agreed to stay and take care of the details. Had to come home to my two favorite girls. Speaking of two . . .” he glanced around the room.

Buffy pointed behind him, towards the kitchen, “Just got cleaned up after her lunch.”

Spike spun around. Within sight of the living room where his wife sat, was Liv’s highchair. There his daughter was perched, playing with an empty bowl and wooden spoon. She put the bowl on her head and beat the spoon against the little tabletop in front her, blowing raspberries.

By some random act of God, two naturally non-blondes had a fair haired baby girl. And she was beautiful, with a pout that rivaled her mother’s. At the sight of her father, she immediately began her incessant intelligible chatter. Flailing her little arms and legs towards her father, bouncing her diapered bottom up and down in her chair.

Buffy passed him going into the kitchen. Lifting her daughter up out of her chair, she set her down on the wood floor and moved to put away the highchair.

The baby crawled across the floor, making little pitter patter sounds as her tiny palms slapped the kitchen floor, sliding her chubby legs behind her, booking it for the couch that she liked to hold onto as she attempted to walk.

“And where do you think you’re going, my love?” Scooping her up from the floor, Spike lifted his baby into the air. Liv laughed, clapping her hands.

Settling her down in his arms, the baby yawned at her father, her little face scrunching up, showing signs of her approaching naptime. Displeasure in losing her battle with sleep, but content to settle her flailing limbs in her father’s embrace, Liv settled down within minutes. Her eyes slowly blinked as Spike rocked her in his arms, humming softly and whispering words of love, until Liv’s miniature lashes closed in sweet slumber.

Quietly ascending the stairs, he turned into Liv’s room, settling her into the pink and white crib. She began to fuss and Spike rubbed her tummy until she drifted back to sleep. Leaning down to place a kiss on her head, Spike ran his hand over her wispy curls, “Sweet dreams, princess.”

He shut off the light as he left the room. Walking across the hall he flipped on the lights in his and Buffy’s bedroom. Sitting down on the bed, Spike pulled off his shirt, throwing it across the room into the hamper. Leaning down he began to untie his boots, having forgotten to take them off downstairs in his haste to see his daughter.

A gleam of something silver caught his eye. Leaning back on his hands, he stared at the shiny object. On the dresser, next to the bed was a framed black and white picture. It was of Buffy -- the one Spike had taken of her after their first night together. She was laying on her stomach, a red quilt pooled low on her waist. She was snuggled softly into the pillow, a sleepy, content smile on her lips.

He was brought out of his reverie by a movement in the doorway. Buffy stood watching him. Smiling, she crawled onto the bed, throwing her leg over so she was straddling him. He put his hands on her hips, slightly rounded from carrying his child.

She wound her arms around his neck, “After Liv’s nap we’re meeting at Xander and Anya’s for the baby shower.”

Spike leaned his head back, groaning, “Will those two ever stop procreating?”

Buffy laughed, “Number three and counting. She wanted the baby shower early this time. I think she’s trying to make it so we forget and won’t know the difference when she makes us buy more stuff for her closer to the birth.”

Her husband rolled his eyes, “Considering the number of free pictures I have to take of all of Harris’ kids, we shouldn’t have to get those brats of theirs anything.”

“Yeah, but think of how nice it’ll be in a few years. When Liv gets older and we give her a sister or brother, they’ll be bunches of kids running around during the holidays. Willow and Tara are getting married and they’re already thinking about adoption. We’ll all be one great big family.” Buffy dream was so contagious that Spike found himself imagining next Christmas with everyone.

But, first thing’s first.

Spike nuzzled Buffy’s neck, “Who says Liv has to be older?”

“Spike, she’s still in diapers!” Buffy objected, but made no move to push him away.

“She’ll be just about getting out of them by the time you deliver.” Spike’s hands continued to roam over her body. “You haven’t taken your pill for today have you?”

Buffy returned his smirk, shaking her head no.

“Don’t,” he requested, reclining them back on the bed.

Buffy pulled back, studying her husband, “Do you always get what you want?” she asked challengingly, a teasing smile playing over her lips.

He roamed his eyes over her, thinking back over the past several years. The day they met in college, the afternoon he walked into her shop, the magazine shoot, the day he asked her to marry him, their wedding, Liv’s birth . . . And smiled, “Always,”

THE END





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