by AntigoneUnbound » Tue May 04, 2004 11:35 pm
AS TIME GOES BY
Part 3
Synopsis: Set in spring of 2003, this story abandons much of Season 6. The nerds were vanquished and our girls are together. Oh--and there seems to be a baby.
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, ownership, random wanking…
Note 1: In this section, I play a little with one of the fundamental underpinnings of a certain faith. Please trust me that I mean no disrespect whatsoever. If anyone feels that I have been disrespectful, regardless of my stated intention, please let me know.
Note 2: Trust me: all questions will be answered. For now, I’m fleshing out the past few months, but in so doing, I’ll explain what happened the year before as well.
Note 3: To quote that masterpiece of romanticized antebellum South: “I don’t know nothing ’bout birthin’ no babies.” I’m trying to get it right, but I may miss a few details.
*****
“Tara, I don’t wish to sound harsh, but you can’t take that child home with you.” As she watched her mate turn to face Giles and gaze at him without speaking, Willow thought that the Watcher had never uttered a more doomed sentence. Only the tightening of her jaw told Willow that her girlfriend was anything besides calm and serene.
Finally, Tara replied, “Actually, Giles, we can.”
This was the group’s first indication that Tara would not be taking many orders where this child was concerned.
It quickly became clear that she and Tara were--there was no other word for it--mothers to this child. The infant eventually let herself be held by other members of the group, but only for brief periods of time. At night, she slept only in the crib that Buffy had dragged down from the attic and set up in Willow and Tara’s room that first night.
“Do you want us to find our own place?” Willow asked Buffy, as they tugged the fitted sheet over the mattress. “We’ve been talking about it for awhile anyway; you know, wondering if we were overstaying our welcome by a year or two…”
But Buffy had her own resolve face, and she used it now. “Will, we still don’t know jack about this baby, aside from the fact that ‘Jack’ probably wouldn’t be a good name. To be honest, I’d feel better if we were all under one roof.”
Willow had heaved an internal sigh of relief. Frankly, she wasn’t sure how they could have managed to find a new home in the midst of taking care of a mystical infant. Buffy had raised a good point, however, and not just about the safety to be found in numbers.
“We need to call her something,” she told Tara on the second night. “We can’t just keep calling her…‘her.’”
“You’re right,” Tara agreed, gazing down at the tiny bundle in her arms. “But what?”
“Well…You always said you wanted to name a girl ‘Amanda,’” Willow said slowly.
Tara turned to look at her, and her expression was difficult to read. “I know, Sweetie…But this feels different. Like, really different.”
“You’re afraid she won’t…she won’t stay, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what I feel, Willow. All I know is that when I picture ‘Amanda,’ it’s another child.”
“I get that,” Willow replied. “So--what name does make you picture this child?”
But Tara just shook her head slowly. “I don’t know…”
Willow broached the subject with the group the next day. Giles, not surprisingly, had cautioned against naming the infant at all.
“You don’t know anything about this child. You don’t know where she came from, or what her purpose is. You don’t know…” And here he trailed off.
“We don’t know how long she’ll be here,” Tara finished for him. He nodded, almost apologetically.
“We do know, though, that she’s been delivered to this dimension and for whatever reason is deeply attached to Tara and Willow,” Buffy chimed in. “And from what we can tell, she’s a normal human baby, at least physically. Now, I seem to remember from freshman psychology…Well, I remember a number of things, not the least of which was that Maggie Walsh had some serious control issues. But I also remember that all of the 'higher' social creatures need names, or some form of manifest identity. Otherwise, their sense of self takes a hit. And I for one do not want to be responsible for a baby’s impaired self-image. Massive architectural damage in the name of fighting evil, sure…But not compromised ego development.”
Willow grinned, recognizing Buffy’s comments for the support they were. She also felt a twinge of sadness, though; freshman psychology reminded her of Riley…Riley and his departure for the Special Ops duty in some country that was low on amenities and high on demon-provoked insurrection. After awhile, he had acknowledged what Buffy had suspected for a few months: he was bisexual, and quite interested in Graham.
“I told him to go figure it out,” she later told Willow. “But I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon. It’s probably for the best, though,” she added, as Willow began to offer words of comfort. “That wholesome thing was starting to wear me down.”
Turning her attention back to the issue of baby names, Willow spoke up decisively. “We’re going to name her, and that’s that. However long she’s with us…” And here she turned to Tara. “…we’re going to treat her like the baby she is. We’re going to protect her, and feed her, and watch over her.”
And love her. Willow felt, rather than heard, the words emanate from Tara. She took her beloved’s hand, and smiled her agreement.
The conversation that followed was much as one might anticipate, based on the characters involved. Buffy, for all that she had traveled through the realms of darkness and vanquished creatures of unspeakable evil, tended toward names of almost hideous cuteness.
“You would really name a child ‘Barbie,’” Willow marveled. “Truly, you are a troubled woman.”
“Well, her full name would be ‘Barbara,’” the Slayer protested. “‘Barbie’ would just be her nickname.”
“I think it’s sweet name,” Tara offered, as, Buffy turned to her with a huge smile, “for a plastic doll with boobs three times the size of her feet.” Looking back at Willow, she added, “We will not be throwing a Barbie on the shrimp,” and seemed inordinately proud of the bad pun.
Giles suggested ‘Hermione,’ which elicited vast oceans of American dismissal. “Why wait for grade school?” Dawn asked. “Why not just laugh at her and knock her to the ground right now?”
Anya’s ideas were thinly-veiled, to put it mildly. “‘Anna’ is a wonderful name,” she said decisively. “Very time-honored. There’s also ‘Annie,’ ‘Enya,’ and just plain ‘Ann.’ They’re all classics, really.”
Xander, surprisingly, hadn’t offered up any specific names. Instead, he was peering at the baby intently. Finally, he looked at Willow and then Tara.
“What does she look like?” he asked simply. At the questioning glances, he explained, “Don’t make her fit the name; make the name fit her.”
Willow stared at him until he began to squirm. “What--do I have something in my nose?” He gave a self-conscious swipe at both nostrils.
“No; it’s just that this is twice in three days that you’ve had a really good suggestion, and I’m…” She stopped, realizing how it would sound.
“Shocked? Awed? Yeah--me too,” he shrugged.
As Tara gazed at the sleeping infant, she commented, “Well, she has a head of dark hair; that’s one thing.”
“How about ‘Raven’?” Giles suggested.
“A little too E. A. Poe for me,” Willow mused. “We have enough midnights dreary as it is.”
“Hey.” Dawn’s voice was excited. “I know ‘Kieran’ means small dark one in Celtic. I mean, you hear it more for boys than girls, but still…” Turning to Willow, she asked, “Can I borrow your laptop for a minute?” With the nodded permission, she began a search for baby names. After a moment, she said, “Well, there’s ‘Kiera,’ with the same meaning. And then…” She paused, scrolling down. “There’s also the same name, spelled ‘K-y-r-a,’ and that means ‘sun.’” She looked at Willow, who was looking at her mate, who was looking at the baby.
Tara nodded slowly at this. “Dark one, and sun…She feels like both to me.” She glanced up at Willow. “I’m thinking ‘Kyra.’ What about you?”
Willow knelt to touch the infant’s silky black hair. “I think we got ourselves a name, Sweetie.” Gazing into Tara’s eyes, she felt a surge of love and protectiveness that left her almost dizzy.
And we got ourselves a baby, she thought to herself. But Tara’s answering kiss on her cheek told her that her beloved had heard her.
*****
Two weeks after Kyra’s appearance, Willow looked at Tara and said simply, “There are things I need to do; things only I can do.” And Tara nodded her agreement, and her approval. Willow turned away from her and squared her shoulders.
“For I shall call upon my power, and with it, give form to nothingness,” she intoned. “I shall create life where once there was none.” So saying, she cracked the knuckles on both hands and settled down to her computer.
The first thing she did was issue a birth certificate. Tara was the biological mother, having given birth to Kyra at home with Anya Jenkins as midwife. Her alleged role pleased the former vengeance demon a great deal.
“You were a real trooper,” she commended Tara, punching her lightly on the arm.
The decision to give the child Tara’s mother’s name had been a simple one. “My mother was one of the two greatest gifts in my life up to this point,” Tara had said quietly. “And for whatever reason--for however long--Kyra feels like the third.” Willow, who had actually been thinking the same thing, kissed Tara by way of response.
Dawn came in just as Willow was about to send the document to print. “Can I take a look?” she asked, peering over Willow’s shoulder without waiting for permission. After a moment, she wheeled to face Tara.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “How did you stand it? How did you even survive?”
“What?” Tara asked in alarm. In response, Dawn pointed to the document on the screen, where Tara learned that she had given birth to an 80-pound, 5-ounce infant.
“And you keep hounding me for sex,” she said accusingly to Willow. “As if that isn’t what got me into that mess in the first place.”
Willow quickly corrected the typo. “Thanks,” she muttered to Dawn, as she made sure that Kyra had in fact been 19 inches and not 109.
Such logistical matters were fairly simple for someone of Willow’s almost infinite computer skills. “Quite the hackage package,” Tara commended her, as Willow produced yet another form confirming her legal adoption of Kyra as a second parent.
Far more sobering, though, were the emotional realities and the mystical implications. Tara had felt from the beginning that Kyra had been sent to them intentionally; that, for whatever reason, they were meant to be Kyra’s mothers. Willow was somewhat more uncertain as she pondered it all, though the crying roulette game had definitely left an impression. Her doubts were put to rest, however, a week after Kyra had joined them.
Tara was preparing the formula for her evening feeding, shaking a couple of drops onto the inside of her wrist to check for temperature, and pressing the bottom of the plastic liner against the side of the bottle to force any air out through the nipple. “Gas is just never fun,” she commented, and Willow had to agree. Kyra apparently found this prologue entirely too long, and cried out her impatience for the story to commence in earnest.
Willow, who’d been rocking Kyra in a vain attempt to soothe her, glanced over at Tara to see how the preparations were coming--and stopped cold.
“Your shirt…” was all she managed to say.
Tara gave her a quizzical look, then peered down at her light blue pullover--which was now noticeably darker in two spots.
She stared at Willow, stunned beyond words. Then, eyes widening even further, she pointed and said, “Your shirt.”
But Willow had felt it even as Tara spoke. The inspection was a cursory one; confirmatory, not exploratory.
“Willow--we’re lactating!”
“That seems…noteworthy,” Willow managed. “And painful, too,” she added, as the fullness in her breasts became more pronounced.
The group had received this news with a mixture of excitement and disbelief.
“It’s like she’s totally yours,” Dawn breathed, her voice filled with awe. “Both of yours…This is just too cool.”
“Giles,” Willow asked, “is there any record of anything like this ever occurring?”
“I’ve scanned several texts, but I’ve found no discussion of such a birth or such maternal circumstances. I must confess, this is all quite perplexing.” The Watcher shook his head.
“Giles, that sentence took at least fifteen seconds to say,” Xander commented, sighing in faux exasperation. “Now try this: ‘No.’ See? Compare, and save.”
“Actually, Jesus of Nazareth was the product of a lesbian relationship,” Anya said, matter-of-factly.
This effectively brought all conversation to an end.
Finally, Buffy broke the silence. “Jesus. The Jesus,” she said simply, tilting her head as if considering the possibility that Anya might be, among so many other things, mentally unstable.
“Sure,” the ex-demon confirmed, seemingly taken aback by all the hoo-ha. “Good carpenter. Infinitely loving and kind. A very welcome guest for all functions involving wine, bread, and fishes. I’m surprised you don’t know this.”
“And just where did you happen upon such…unique information?” Giles asked slowly, his expression suggesting that he half-hoped she wouldn’t supply the answer.
“It’s common knowledge in most dimensions,” Anya replied easily. “And it should be here. You’ve heard of the rosary, right?”
“The rosary?” Tara echoed, looking at Willow in abject confusion.
“Sure--you know: ‘Hail Mary, full of grace.’ Well, the ‘G’ in ‘grace’ should be capitalized.” She paused, waiting for the others to hop, jump, or at least stumble onto the Clue Train. When they didn’t, she sighed.
“Grace wasn’t an abstract concept; she was Mary’s partner.”
The names were different, but the slack-jawed expressions in the room were largely identical. Finally, Xander said hesitantly, “And Mary was...full of her?”
“That’s the scoop. Oh, He was definitely a holy man. Just a very different nativity scene. Word on the street is that Saint Peter wasn’t too cool with the women-loving-women part. I think his wife had left him for one of the other apostle’s sisters,” she added thughtfully.
It was much later when Willow and Tara, left with Kyra bundled snuggly into a soft blanket embroidered with penguins. (“No rabbits, frogs, or horses,” Tara had clarified the day before as she selected the item in question. “Check.”)
“So we don’t know where she came from, or why she’s here,” Willow summarized. “What we do know is that she’s connected to us in some incredibly powerful way, because she cries when somebody else tries to hold her…And because we’re both producing milk.” She stopped and looked at Tara. “Is this freaking you out at all?”
“More than I can really convey,” Tara replied. “The only thing I feel more than freaked is…right. I mean, this feels right. There’s absolutely no reason why it should, and it absolutely does.”
Willow looked down at the tiny creature nestled in her arms. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It absolutely does.”
*****
To Be Continued
Edited by: [url=http://p081.ezboard.com/bthekittenthewitchesandthebadwardrobe36671.showUserPublicProfile?gAntigoneUnbound[/url] at: 5/6/04 5:55 am
Thank you for the update. Edited to add - Married life is very good, much better this week because last week was very hard. It is nice to be back together again. Sandra's Dad died last week and she spent a while in Boston for the funeral. How are you? 
at: 4/29/04 7:31 pm
at: 4/30/04 7:38 pm
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