June, 1986.

It was odd to think about how much Sloane's life had changed in two short years. Sure, the monsters were a part of it that she definitely hadn't expected, but that didn't stay with her as much as the love did. Things got testy last summer with the Mind Flayer's big return that honestly, Sloane expected, but no one agreed with her until it was too late. Well, Nancy always believed her -- she had gotten quite sharp since she started journalism. She had always been sharp, Sloane thought, but it was about time people started listening to her.

"Is it dumb to think that I wanna marry you?" Sloane asked as she opened the passenger door of Nancy's car. They were still in their caps and gowns, but Sloane didn't care about that too much. Being a fresh eighteen-year-old about to leave a small town, there were bigger things to look forward to than this. This was for her parents who never loved her but honestly, never expected her to graduate either. However, her favorite middle finger to them was saying she was going to be a groupie for a rock band in New York. (She wasn't, of course). The only groupie she was going to be was Nancy's while she studied with Jonathan in New York -- with the three of them sharing an apartment of course. Sloane still hadn't let Jonathan think she liked him and she fully planned on keeping it that way.

"No," Nancy hardly hesitated with her answer, which surprised the blonde, "No, it's not crazy. I mean, not yet, obviously, it's not even legal, I don't think."

Sloane laughed a bubbly giggle, "Well, when it is, then."

"You think we'll be alive to see it?"

"I will literally become a congresswoman just so I can legalize it," the girl chuckled, "Fuck it, I'll just be president."

"President's should probably go to college," Nancy mumbled as she smiled, pulling the girl in for a kiss as they leaned over the center console, her hand gently gripping her chin. "And maybe not have a history of monster fighting."

She scoffed, "It's not a history, it was only twice. Besides, you did most of the actual fighting, I just gasped dramatically and held onto you. Who has time for fighting? I'm not looking to break a nail."

Nancy laughed, but there was no mockery behind it, just love, "Please never stop being you. I love you."

Sloane kissed her again, "I love you, too."

November, 1989

"Why are we doing this?" Jonathan asked with a teasing smile as he leaned in the bathroom doorway while Nancy held a razor in her hand and Sloane sat on the sink with a knowing grin.

"Because! Elliot and my parents are visiting for Thanksgiving 'n I wanna give 'em a good scare!" Sloane exclaimed as she grabbed the scissors off of the counter. Her hair was in two high pigtails and she took the scissors and cut them off just above the hair ties with a maniacal laugh while Jonathan shook his head. Nancy only smiled. "Besides, I wanna be able to tell our kids that their mama shaved her head when she was in her twenties. Isn't that badass?"

"It's pretty badass," the boy shrugged as he gave up, walking away to leave the girls to their fun.

Once he was gone, Nancy got shy, a small smile ghosting the corners of her mouth as she looked almost afraid to say something. After a moment of sifting through Sloane's incredibly short hair, she asked, "Our kids?"

"Yeah, our kids," Sloane said with a scoff, "Duh, who else is gonna have kids with a psycho like me?"

"You are not a psycho," Nancy laughed, shaking her head as she plugged in the electric razor, "Just a little coo-coo. But, who isn't these days?"

"You," Sloane said right away, "If anything, you keep me sane. If it wasn't for you or Jonathan, I probably would have gone on a total bender already. Well, another total bender."

Nancy laughed as she took the razor and Sloane's hair began to fall into the sink below, "Please, you were sixteen that does not count as a bender. Sure, your solutions were... interesting, but if you think about it, one big mental break and your parents never really punished you again, so..."

"Nancy Wheeler you are terrible!" Sloane gasped, a small laugh escaping her mouth, "You can't say shit like that! Even if it's true. Ugh, should we ask Elliot to bring Steve to give my parents a double scare? I want mom to have a heart attack at our kitchen table."

"Dude, Steve and Elliot broke up," the girl furrowed her brow, moving towards the back of her head, "Do you and Elliot even talk? Besides, Abby is already coming, we don't have enough room in this apartment for that many people."

"No!" Sloane exclaimed, "When? He never told me! Oh, my God, I'm gonna kill him when he gets here. How did you know this?"

The girl shrugged, "Steve and I talk. Hey, you look pretty good bald."

"Wow," Sloane gawked, "There's no way you're already done."

"I'm not, but it looks promising."

"Do you still love me even if I'm bald?" Sloane asked with a small pout.

Nancy nodded, pressing a small kiss to her nose, "Of course."

August, 1998

"Joyce, baby, breakfast is ready," Sloane called down the hallway, waiting for the small pitter-patter of her daughter getting out of bed. The summer was reaching its dog-days, but that didn't stop the humid New York morning from invading their home. Sloane had her hair up and was still in her pajamas when Nancy joined her in the kitchen -- except this woman was dressed much more professionally than the other.

"Hey, love, I'm gonna head off to work," Nancy said, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Shit, wait, is the little one up?"

Sloane shrugged, "I'll go grab her. She's not a morning person, just like her mother."

"I swear if it was possible for you two to be blood-related, you would be," the girl scoffed, "Well when you get her up, tell her mommy had to leave and that she loves her very much."

"Will do," the woman confirmed, giving her partner a kiss before leaving the kitchen. Behind her, she heard the front door close as she moved down the hall to her daughter's room, "Joyce, you better be out of bed I made pancakes -- oh, no, how did you find scissors?"

The six-year-old girl now had bangs and Sloane sure understood what Nancy had meant when she said they could be blood-related. Apparently, impulsively cutting hair carried down the generations without the need of a literal bloodline. The woman ran and pulled the scissors out of her daughter's hands, placing them on the desk as she hoisted the girl into her arms.

"I wanted to look like mommy," was all Joyce said in her defense as her mother took her into the bathroom, grabbing the pair of shears they kept in there for when Sloane was too lazy to head to a salon (which was all the time).

"Hm, mommy is pretty stylish," Sloane nodded as she went to fix the mess her daughter had created, "But your mommy is also a grown-up! I know you watch mama cut her own hair, but that's because I've been doing this a lot longer than you. Why don't you let me make your hair look like mommy's, okay?"

The little girl nodded and Sloane sighed, stepping back to look at her work, "You know, this isn't the worst thing I've ever seen."

The girl looked at her quizzically and Sloane shrugged, "Yeah, mama shaved her head once. Mommy had to help with that one, but it looked pretty good."

"Can I shave my head?" Joyce asked and immediately the woman shook her head.

"No, no, not until you're at least sixteen," she affirmed, "Ah, much better, look how cute you are!"

Joyce looked in the mirror, critiquing her work. After a moment the girl said, "I liked mine better."

All Sloane could do was sigh, "Breakfast. Now."

The girl hopped off the counter and headed towards the kitchen and Sloane chuckled to herself, shaking her head. She saw so much of herself in that girl and they had only had her for three years, she could only imagine how much the girl would take after her when she was a teenager. As she watched the girl go, she realized how much her life had changed from when she was younger. Sloane always thought she would die before she turned twenty-five -- now she was heading into her thirties with a family of her own. Funny, how that works itself out, isn't it? The one thing she never planned on having, though, was the happiness. The happiness was the best part.

THE END