But on tonight, of all nights, it meant something completely different.

Giles held Xander's arm in a grip rivaled only by that of the Slayer, who was holding the opposite one. He struggled against them, nonetheless, trying to break free. "Xander, you remember what I told you."

"I don't care."

"You do too." Buffy squeezed his arm harder. "Don't lie, Xander."

"I should be there."

"You need to be here." She nodded in the direction of the chairs along the wall where Connor sat, his eyes wide with fear. Oz sat next to him, holding his hand, his own eyes wide with nervousness.

Xander sighed and nodded. His heart tightened even more and he looked away from the double doors that lead to the source of his worry.

"Dad?"

Both Xander and Oz turned to Connor, then both looked away. Finally, Oz smiled, "Yeah?"

"Is Mom going to be okay?"

"She'll be fine. Hey, I hear they have pretty good ice cream here, do you want to come with me and check it out?"

"No."

"Please?" Looking up at Oz, Connor considered for a long moment before finally nodding. Oz cast a quick look at Xander. "You know, there should be no way he has your love for food and your stubbornness where Willow is concerned, and yet he does. Why is that?"

"Lucky?"

Rolling his eyes, Oz took his son's hand and guided him down the hall. Taking advantage of the fact that Buffy and Giles no longer held him, Xander sprinted for the double doors, only to be knocked onto his bottom as they swung open.

The doctor stood there, humor dancing in his eyes. "Mr. Harris?"

Xander scrambled to his feet and nodded. "I'm Mr. Harris."

"Would you come with me please?"

He nodded again, his head bobbing like a toy dog in the back of a car. He followed the older man down the hall, his breathing shallow. "Is…is she okay?"

"There were complications, as we told you there would be. She lost some blood, she was disoriented and she was unable to have the drugs."

"I see."

"But she made it through fine." He patted Xander's shoulder as they reached a room near the end of the hall. "Go say hello."

Xander pushed the heavy door open; his eyes focused on the woman in the hospital bed. Her hair was damp and stringy, her face was thin and seemed bruised. Her eyes were sunken and had dark circles beneath them.

She was the most beautiful thing on the earth.

The soft cry caught his attention and his gaze dropped from her sparkling green eyes to the small head cradled against her breast. He heard a contented sigh then the quiet sound of suckling as small lips found her nipple and began to feast.

"Xander, aren't you going to come say hello to your daughter?"

His knees trembled and he had to grip the edge of the bed to support himself as he moved to her side. Dark hair covered the small head and her wrinkled, red skin was as soft as the velvet dress Willow had worn to homecoming a million years ago. "We have a daughter, Willow."

"Yes we do." She smiled up at him, the tiredness fading from her. "Would you like to help me name her?"

Xander's hand stroked the dark hair back as he stared down at the child - his child - their child. "Willow, do you know how long I've wanted this, wished for this? It seems like forever ago that I fell in love with you."

"It was forever ago, Xander." She watched his hand as it gently stroked the tiny head. "I think we should name her though, before everyone comes in and offers us advice that we don't want to hear."

He sat on the edge of the hospital bed and stared down at the newest woman in his life, the one woman Willow wouldn't mind competing for his affection. "I think we should name her Isabel Terese Harris." He looked into her eyes and smiled. "What do you think?"

"I think it's wonderful." Willow raised her chin, inviting him to kiss her. His lips found hers and, with all the passion and love that he had, Xander kissed his wife.

Isabel, pulling away from Willow's breast looked up at her parents with wide eyes and smiled then, like her father, cried out for attention.

A sharp, piercing cry that, in Sunnydale, usually meant only one thing.

But tonight, it meant something completely different.