When you're pregnant with a half-alien, half witch/Whitelighter baby, regular prenatal care just wasn't going to cut it. Which was why Isabel and Wyatt had been making regular trips to the more alien friendly future for the last nine months
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"Somebody needs to help me eat these," he said, waving his phone at the large pile of Twinkies on the waiting room coffee table. Well, the large ziggurat of Twinkies; every so often he'd stop thumbing the glowy blue button on his phone and use the results to add a couple more levels to his creation.
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Okay, so he wasn't entirely without targets for sarcasm.
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"This is why I'm not having children. Or, possibly hiring a surrogate to have them for me."
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Xander started building a drawbridge.
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