Title: From Here

Author: mistymidnight

Rating: Meh...PG-13? Or T, or whatever the politically correct rating is these days.

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, as always, owns the characters and BtVS (and AtS). Gidgetgirl owns the plot of the fic.

Spoilers/Timeline: Takes place after season four (BtVS) and season one (AtS), but does not follow the canon of seasons five and two.

Summary: A slayer, a witch, an ex-demon, and an eternal snob--mothers?

Author's Notes: Okay, throw me a flipping bone here, people! This story has the most hits of all my fics (262), but only 18 reviews. Do the math!

Reviewers with questions:

YelloSparkStardust: Wes knows Cordy's pregnant and he knows it's his, but they haven't talked about anything regarding the baby yet.

Sun-chan1: That's a good question about abortion. Let's just say that the story would not be so interesting if no one was having kids. (grammar?) In other words, I'm graciously letting you draw your own conclusion 'cause I'm too lazy to address it in the plot.

The Name Game, Check-Ups, and Ice Cream Motivation

Buffy stared at the Cocoa Crispies floating around in the formerly white milk of her cereal bowl. She swirled her spoon around in the cereal and then turned her attention back to the newspaper funnies. She watched out of the corner of her eye as her mother came in, dressed jeans and a sweater, and sat down next to her at the counter.

"How are you feeling this morning?" Joyce asked. She glanced at the microwave clock, which read 12:22, and added, "Or should I say, 'this afternoon'?"

Buffy shoved a spoonful of cereal into her mouth. "Chocolatey."

Joyce sighed. "Buffy, I'm serious."

"I'm okay."

"That's good."

There was a brief silence before Joyce asked, "Have you been thinking about names?"

The question caught Buffy off-guard. "Huh?"

"Names for the baby."

"Oh. Not so much." She turned her attention from the conversation back to the funnies.

"The baby will be here before you know it."

"I know, Mom, I know. Just keep reminding me about how I'm hurdling toward hours of painful labor."

Joyce sighed again and smoothed her daughter's hair. "I just mean…it's good to think about these things, Buffy."

"Fine." Buffy was not in the mood to argue. Might as well get this over with for now. "If it's a boy, I'll name him…Sonny"—from the cereal box—"and if it's a girl, I'll name her, uh, Cathy"—from the funnies.

Joyce rolled her eyes. "Okay, I get it. I won't bring it up again." She got up to get herself a glass of orange juice, then turned back and grinned playfully at her daughter. "Today."

"Okay. Today's the day. I'm gonna do it."

Cordelia took a deep breath, looked at herself in the mirror, and then began, "Wesley, I—"

She shook her head in frustration. "I can't, Dennis!" she wailed. "I—I can't…" She took another deep breath, steeled herself for the imaginary conversation, and tried again.

"Well," the doctor said, returning to the room, "everything looks fine here. Would you like to know the sex of the baby?"

Tara glanced at Willow, who shook her head.

"No, thank you," Tara said, giving Willow's hand a reassuring squeeze. We want to be surprised."

"Okay, An, I'll consider Emmanuella if you'll at least think about Chloe."

"I don't want to think about Chloe. It's a horrible French name. The French are un-American."

Xander sighed. "Okay, fine, don't think about it. Just don't reject it completely."

"I do reject it!" Anya insisted, the pitch of her voice getting higher with every word. "In fact, I'm exercising my rights as an American and vetoing it. Stupid French name."

"Fine, then I veto Emmanuella."

Anya glared. "Fine. We'll see."

Xander studied her for a second. "What do you mean, 'we'll see'?"

Anya stared back at him, before saying, "Well, I don't really have a good threat yet. But just you wait."

"Do you think we made the right decision?"

Tara looked at her girlfriend. "About what, sweetie?"

"About the knowing the baby's sex." Willow took Tara's hand and held it as the two of them walked down the sidewalk, back toward their dorm. "It's just…I kinda want to know, don't you?"

Tara stopped. "If you really want to know, we can go back and ask."

Willow considered for a moment, then shook her head. "No," she said, and the pair resumed walking down the sidewalk. They'd gone a few steps when Willow stopped. "I mean, yes. No, wait. No."

"Sweetie, listen to me," Tara said gently, taking both Willow's hands. "I don't mind if you want to know the sex. I don't even mind knowing. If you want to know, we can go back and find out. But I thought you said yourself that nothing else matters as long as the baby is healthy. You know we'll love it the same if it's a girl as we would if it's a boy."

Willow smiled. "You're right," she said, resuming the walk. "Let's wait and be surprised."

"All right, Dennis, I'm gonna do it. And remember what I said about this ice cream."

The freezer door opened, and a pint of cookie dough ice cream floated in the air for a minute, before it was placed in the back of the freezer and covered with a package of frozen chicken fingers.

"Right," Cordelia nodded. "No matter how much I beg, no matter what I do, don't let me have any of that ice cream—"

The lights in the kitchen flicked on, the off.

Cordelia groaned. "Or any ice cream—"

The freezer door shut.

"—until I've talked to Wesley."She picked up her purse and opened the door. "Here goes nothing."

I swear, I liked the original draft of this chapter better, but my computer deleted it (darn computer. No, wait, I take it back!). Oh, well. REVIEW, please.