TITLE: Golden Slumbers
SERIES: Ice and Fire (Part 6/12)
AUTHOR: Kerry Blackwell
DISCLAIMER: All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX and Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. I own only my genius (yeah, right!)
FEEDBACK: Well, I'm certainly not going to complain! :-)

Fred lay on her side and watched it dance. She could easily explain the mechanics of combustion, discuss the chemical reactions involved and the physics behind the way the flame flickered. What she couldn't - wouldn't - do was try to put into words how watching that small light made her feel.

She hated this part of Christmas, hated it with a passion. Falling asleep on Christmas Eve was her own private hell. The one she never told anyone about, pretending time had healed old wounds, just like the old adage said it did.

But some hurts were too big to heal without leaving scars, and sometimes - like on Christmas Eve - those scars _hurt_.

Memory shouldn't stay so vivid after thirty years. It should fade, soften into nostalgia and remembered love. For most of the year it did, but this night was always different.

Once, she'd found a copy of _A Christmas Carol_ fallen behind a bookcase. It had to have belonged to Wesley; it was leather bound, the spine cracked and the pages yellowed with age and repeated readings. If it had been hers it would have been a tatty old paperback, and besides, she'd never particularly liked Dickens anyway.

She'd burned it.

Each year, she felt like she got her own visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past. She didn't need some old book gloating about it, especially since she didn't believe she had Scrooge's sins on her conscience.

She would lie awake in her bed and find she could remember every detail of their three Christmases.

Their first one together, in his apartment only three months after they were married. Everything was new, everything an adventure. They had talked and laughed and made love on the floor beside the Christmas tree, surrounded by torn wrapping paper.

The second, a little quieter than the first, in the house they had bought together. Peace and joy and plans for the future. Talk of a baby, bright hopes and overwhelming love.

But always, always she remembered the third Christmas. Crouched in a back alley in the pouring rain, holding her husband, her love, as he died in her arms. A mugging, for God's sake. Not a vampire or a demon, not saving the world from unthinkable evil. Just being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Fred hugged the pillow to her chest, trying to keep the memory at bay, knowing from long experience she'd just have to watch it again, all the way to the end.

"I still miss you," she whispered softly. "I love you, Wesley."

There was never a reply, and after the first ten years she'd stopped listening for one. She blew the candle out and, just like she did every year, silently cried herself to sleep.

She didn't hear a voice whisper back, equally softly. "I love you, Fred."

*

Wesley flopped onto the bed fully dressed and heaved a heart-felt sigh of relief. "She's finally asleep."

Susan set the candle down safely on the bedside table and chuckled softly. "She's had a... a _productive_ day. I thought she might have worked herself up to the point she'd be awake all night."

"Thankfully not. They're both asleep and since Aunt Cordy put them next door, we'll know if either of them wakes up. Hopefully, they won't."

"Miri was in your parent's bed at some ungodly hour last year," Susan pointed out.

"I know. But she's so delighted with her 'princess room' I'm hoping she'll stay there for a while."

"She was rather taken with the idea, wasn't she?" Susan commented with a chuckle. Cordelia had put Miri and Jeremy in one of the little turreted bedrooms, and Miri had quickly decided she was a princess in her own castle tower. The fact that her parents were in a completely normal bedroom next door had escaped her attention entirely.

Wesley considered sitting up to pull off his shoes, but decided to leave his feet where they were for a while. "So long as she doesn't decide she's Rapunzel everything should be fine," he said tiredly, only half- joking.

Susan gave her husband a sympathetic look. "Exhausted, love?"

"Done in," he agreed with a ghost of a grin. "I totally adore my family - and that's the entire extended version - but they can be exhausting."

Susan had changed for the night, but instead of climbing under the covers she curled up beside her husband on top of the bedspread. Even with the electricity out, the house was still cozy warm and likely to stay that way for several hours yet.

He automatically scooped her into his arms, their bodies moulding against each other until she was lying on her side, spooned up against him.

"You do realise," she said softly, "that half the problem is that when your family has surprises to share, they are _big_ ones."

Wesley chuckled, his breath brushing the back of her head. "You mean like my twin sister being pregnant with her 300 year old husband or that my aunt appears to be enjoying being stalked by someone who can technically be considered to be my brother-in-law's grandson?"

Susan laughed. "Either. Both." She rolled over so that she was facing him. "My life was normal before I met you."

"Anyone whose grandmother got busted for supplying pot to the members of her bridge club in the old folk's home can't really claim that."

"So my Granny's got a record," Susan retorted. "_You_, my dear, have a family that includes..." She carefully began ticking things off on her fingers. "A former Vampire Slayer and her former Watcher - who are your parents I might add. An ex-vampire who, as far as I know, is the only vampire ever to become human again. Two lesbian witches. A seer and her handsome prince who, while he wasn't actually a frog, was certainly cursed. An ex-vengeance demon. A slightly insane, but totally delightful physicist. Oh yeah, and it looks like you're going to pick up another vampire, this time one who has a very, very out-of- date Billy Idol fixation." She shook her head. "I didn't even know who Billy Idol _was_ before I met you. The man died before I was born."

"So did Spike," Wesley pointed out involuntarily, and wasn't surprised when Susan swung a fake punch at him. "And you forgot that Aunt Dawn is still technically the Key and Hazel is also a witch."

"See, you just proved my point for me. You are all _weird_."

He chuckled. "If you remember, Mrs Giles, _you_ proposed to me."

"I had to," Susan retorted. "You'd never have found the courage to do it."

"I would have, too," Wesley protested.

"I wanted to catch you before I needed a walker to make it down the aisle." She poked him in the ribs and stuck her tongue out at him.

He rolled over until he was lying on top of her, holding her wrists in one hand, tickling her mercilessly with the other. "Surrender, woman, before you wake the kids."

Between desperate, gasping laughter, Susan shook her head. "Never. You'll have to make me."

Laughing himself, Wesley bent his head and kissed her into silence. In a second, the fight was forgotten as her back arched and she pressed her mouth into his kiss. Wesley smiled as his tongue touched hers. It worked every time.

Then he stopped thinking altogether.

*

Willow and Tara were already in bed, cuddled up together. Cordelia's candle had been blown out and the room was dark, only a smaller, slightly less dense square showing where the window was.

"Jeremy liked the lights," Willow said sleepily.

"That was really good of you, sweetie. I think two screaming children would have been too much."

"Wait for next year." Willow shook her head, her hair brushing scratchily against the pillow. "Can you imagine Brianna with a baby? I can't."

Tara smiled, just made sure her lover didn't realise it. "That's what you said about Wesley when he and Susan announced she was pregnant with Miri."

"I know," Willow admitted. "But I couldn't."

"That's why pregnancy takes nine months," Tara said wisely. "To give everyone the time to get used to it. People think it's to let the baby grow and give the parents time to get ready, but it's not. It's really so doting aunts have time to get used to the idea and are all ready to spoil the baby rotten when it comes."

Willow's voice brightened perceptibly. "Tara, we'll have to buy presents!"

"Yes, we will," Tara agreed with a laugh.

"Mmm," Willow declared happily.

She settled into a more comfortable shape, and when she spoke again, her voice was thoughtful. "Is that why everyone had so much trouble adjusting to Hazel? Because they didn't have nine months to get used to the idea of her coming."

"Honey, we didn't have nine months," Tara reminded her. "The adoption agency rang us up on Friday and we collected her on Monday. We had trouble too, remember?"

"But we'd been on the waiting list for ages," Willow said. "Doesn't that count?"

"Not really," Tara answered. She levered herself up on one elbow and looked down at the dark shape that was Willow. "Will, don't you know how we got Hazel?"

"They picked us," Willow answered sleepily.

Tara shook her head. "Come on, do you know what the chances were of a couple like us getting a baby, back then when gays were still on the fringe and there were so many straight couples wanting to adopt?"

Willow was wide awake now. "I thought we got an open-minded agency worker."

"We sort of did," Tara agreed. "She was a friend of Rupert's. I think she'd had some connection with the Council. She realised how much potential power Hazel had and she pulled a _lot_ of strings to make sure we got her."

"What are you saying?" Willow's voice was small and suddenly unsure.

"It wasn't about us being gay or not being gay. It was about us being witches. Ones that knew about the need for training and control..."

"The hard way," Willow broke in bitterly.

"Which is the only sure way," Tara told her firmly. "That's why we got Hazel. So she'd grow up with people who knew about witchcraft; people who could train her properly and knew about the dangers and responsibilities as well as the power itself."

"How come I didn't know about this?"

"I thought you did," Tara said in surprise. "How come you didn't know about it?"

Willow smiled. "Because you're the sensible, pay-attention one and I was probably too busy cooing over our new baby's gorgeous eyes."

"Probably," Tara agreed. "Are you mad about it?"

"Of course not." Willow shook her head. "Just kind of amazed that Hazel's nineteen now and I completely missed out on knowing something that important."

"In a way, it's _not_ important," Tara said unexpectedly. "Hazel's _our_ daughter. Nothing can change that."

"Nothing," Willow agreed, snuggling back up to her lover. "So what colour eyes do you think Bree and Angel's baby will have?"

"Brown, probably," Tara said, snuggling back. "It's a dominant colour."

"We'll have to buy lots of presents," Willow sighed happily.

"Lots and lots," Tara agreed.

*

Gunn was asleep. Snoring.

*

Joy was already in bed, while Hazel was still brushing out her hair. They had set their candle on the table between the two beds and it cast enough light for them to see each other, but little more than that.

"So, spill," Joy demanded.

Hazel paused in her brushing, trying to see her friend's expression and failing. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Joy sighed theatrically. "About the boyfriend."

Hazel put down her brush beside the candle and climbed onto her bed. She leaned back against the wall and pulled her knees up. She tugged the quilt loose from the blankets and folded herself up inside its warmth. "Potential boyfriend," she reminded the older girl.

"Whatever," Joy said dismissively. "Spill."

If there had been enough light, Joy would have seen Hazel blush. As it was, she could hear the embarrassment in the other girl's voice.

"It's going to sound really stupid." Hazel pulled the quilt tighter around herself. "I've never met him."

"But you've seen him around, right?" Joy offered.

"Not exactly," Hazel admitted.

Joy frowned. "So how do you know him?"

"I read his book," Hazel whispered.

There was a long, long silence. "You huh?" Joy managed finally.

"He writes fantasy novels," Hazel muttered. "I read his newest book. It's about magic and witches and stuff. And it's real."

"Huh?" Joy said again.

"Only a real witch or warlock would know, but he knows all about real magic. I'm sure he can do magic himself."

Joy was still trying to take this in. "So you've got a crush on some guy you know nothing about because he wrote a good book?"

Hazel was shaking her head, starting to look determined rather than embarrassed. "It's not like that. It's like he wrote the book for me. It's looking for me. He's looking for me."

Joy went back to her staple response for this conversation. "I say again, huh?"

"I found some stuff about it in the Moms' books. Sometimes, that's how witches and warlocks find their life partners. Through some other medium that is spelled so only the right person will understand." She struggled to explain something she didn't fully comprehend herself. "When I read the book, it was like he was talking to me. Just to _me_. I _have_ to find him."

"So this is some kind of magical thing?" Joy tried. "You know me. I'm about as magical as a block of wood. You mean it's like he sent out a personal ad only you can read? He's seen you, then?"

Probably not," Hazel admitted with a shake of her head. "But it doesn't matter."

"So you want to meet this guy you've never met and whose never met you? Cause you're supposed to be the loves of each other's lives?" Joy sounded worried and she knew it. It didn't matter because she _was_ worried. "Hazel, it sounds kind of suspicious to me."

"It's magic," Hazel said desperately and Joy realised exactly how serious she was. Very, very serious.

"Okay," she said slowly. "I'll see what I can do to help. But you have to promise me something."

"What?" Hazel asked nervously.

Joy tried to sound a lot more years older than her friend than she really was. "That you _do not_ do anything about this on your own. You let us help you." The candlelight was quite enough for her to see the hesitation on Hazel's face. "Promise and I'll make sure you get to meet him," she said firmly.

"Promise," Hazel whispered finally.

Joy didn't even try to hide her sigh of relief. "All right. I'll ask Aunt Dawn if she can use her book contacts to help us track down this guy. Then she can try to arrange for you to meet him. But when you do that, you have to promise to take..." Joy hesitated, thinking about it. "To take Dad and Angel and Gunn with you. And your moms cause they're powerful witches. Maybe even my Mom, cause she can still kick butt with the best of them. And Spike if you meet him at night. Then, if this is a trap, you have _lots_ of backup."

"Isn't that overkill?" Hazel sounded horrified. "All those people will scare him off."

"That's the deal," Joy said firmly, hoping Hazel wouldn't realise she didn't exactly have the sole authority to be making this agreement. "You have huge power, Haze. If he's for real, he'll understand everyone loves you and they're being careful. But what if this is some skank doing a spell on you to get that power?"

"Oh." Hazel sounded about ten years old. "I hadn't thought of that."

"That's what friends are for," Joy reminded her. "And hey, maybe he'll be everything you're imagining. Happy ever afters do happen sometimes."

"Yeah," Hazel agreed softly. "Look at my Moms. And your parents."

"And Wes and Susan. Bree and Angel. Cordy and Alex."

"Xander and Anya," Hazel added. Suddenly she laughed. "What about Dawn and Spike, do you think?"

Joy laughed back. "I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Now go to sleep and we'll worry about this further later."

*

Dawn wasn't surprised when she heard footsteps in the hallway outside her bedroom door. She was a little more surprised that Spike actually bothered to knock, quietly so that no-one else would hear. She was warm and snug in the big bed and had no intention whatsoever of getting up.

"Come in," she hissed, knowing he'd hear her.

He door opened and he slipped inside, a ghostly white face atop a black silhouette.

"Hello, luv," he said cheerfully, sitting down on the end of her bed. "It got kind of lonely in the basement, so I thought I'd call in on you."

"Why am I not surprised?" she asked ironically.

"Because you know me so well, pet." It was a statement rather than a question and Dawn found herself laughing.

"I'm certainly beginning to," she agreed. "So you're here. Now what?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You look kind of lonely all by yourself in that big bed. Want some company?"

"In your dreams," Dawn retorted cheerfully.

The eyebrows went up again and this time he threw his best sexy leer for good measure. "You have the starring role in all my dreams, luv."

She groaned. "Oh, Spike, please. At least get a new line."

He pouted, his very best kill-em-in-the-aisles, show-off-the- cheekbones pout. He knew the candlelight would work to his advantage, casting shadows in all the right places. The thing was, he also knew, deep down inside, that with Dawn it wouldn't make a scrap's worth of difference. And while he'd never admit it, he wouldn't want to change that at all.

He tried anyway. "I thought you liked my lines, luv."

She rolled her eyes. "Try something new, Spike."

"You want new?" He stood up, leaving the bed and moving to sit on the floor between her and the candle. It was a _very_ long time since he'd done this. So long ago he'd been _alive_. So technically she was getting old rather than new, but that was just a quibble.

It took her a moment to work out what he was doing.

"What's with the hand waving?" she asked and he gave her his best glare.

"You're looking in the wrong direction, Nibblet."

Confused, Dawn looked around the room until her eyes fell on the shadows on the wall behind her. She shrieked with laughter, immediately clapping her hand over her mouth.

"Spike," she muttered between giggles. "Grow up. Rabbits on the wall indeed." She laughed even harder. "Imagine if Anya was here."

He leaned back against the small table, looking up at her. "Joy thinks we're having, and I quote, smoochies," he said suddenly.

"And you told her we're not." It was a flat statement, but she didn't sound particularly convinced.

"Of course not," he informed her cheerfully. For a moment, he looked unusually vulnerable. "I was kind of hoping we could make her right."

Dawn looked down at him, feeling her heart lurch the way it so often did around him. _I'm nuts,_ she thought absently. _Falling in love with a vampire._ A moment later honesty forced her to add, _But I did that a long time ago._

"Am I second best?" she asked abruptly. "Just a Buffy replacement, because Giles beat you and got her instead?"

She was startled to see his face change, the demon coming out as he looked up at her furiously. "Don't you _ever_ sell yourself so short, Dawn Summers! I love you. You, not anyone else and especially not your annoying sister!"

"You love me?" she repeated. "You never said that."

He gave her a disgusted look. "What the hell do you think all this has been about?"

"You want to sleep with me," Dawn said matter-of-factly. "Although I'm not really sure why. It's not like I'm all that young any more."

He growled. No other word for it. A low, furious growl. "Well, of course I want to sleep with you," he agreed. "But mostly I want to marry you!" He shook his head. "How can you be so blind, Bit?"

She was still staring at him, her expression comprised equally of disbelief and delight. Then, slowly, she began to smile.

"Come and get your 'smoochies', Spike. We'll discuss the rest later."

*

Brianna was lying on her back, breathing heavily. Angel lay beside her, propped up on one elbow and watching the candlelight play across her face.

"I love you," he whispered.

She smiled, a soft, sated, cat-got-the-cream smile. "Love you, too," she answered. She let out a deep breath, took another one in. "Well, that was fun."

He chuckled. "I kind of got that from all the moaning and muffled screams."

"Like you can talk," she retorted. "I _really_ hope Gunn is a sound sleeper.

"One of the soundest," he assured her. "Anyway, I think he probably knows by now that babies don't really grow under cabbage leaves."

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, leaving him confused.

"Whatever for?"

"Letting it slip about the baby. I know it was supposed to be tomorrow's announcement."

He leaned over and kissed her on the lips. "Don't be silly. It doesn't matter."

"Really?"

"Totally."

"Everyone took it very well, I thought."

This time, Angel laughed. "We told them we're having a _baby_, Bree. In this family of swarming children, what's not to like?"

"I know," she agreed softly. "But I was still a little scared."

"Why?"

"I thought Dad might be unhappy. What did he say to you?"

Angel thought back to that amazing moment between himself and Rupert Giles. He had learned a long time ago that it is impossible to _earn_ forgiveness. But to be granted it as a gift, that was something astounding.

Angel wrapped his arms around his wife, pulling her close. "I'll tell you," he said softly.

*

"Buffy, love, would you _please_ blow out the candle and come to bed."

Buffy, pacing back and forth across the room, didn't pause for a second. "Bree and Angel are having a baby," she said for the tenth time. She paced some more. "And Dawn and _Spike_." It was probably more like the twentieth time for that one. She stopped finally and looked at her husband. "I think there was an apocalypse and we missed it."

Giles laughed. "We're getting another grandchild and you call it an apocalypse?"

"Okay, so that's good news," Buffy conceded almost reluctantly. "Just kind of unexpected." She started walking again. "But Dawn and _Spike_."

"Dawn is more than old enough to make her own decisions," Giles pointed out mildly. "She was old enough to make her own decisions that day she left for college." He paused, before adding gently, "A lot more ready than you."

"I know that," Buffy admitted. "But it's _Spike_. Huge mistake."

Giles shook his head. "Spike was a huge mistake for _you_. I freely admit that he's far from my favourite person on the planet, but I think he might be right for Dawn."

Buffy frowned. "I don't like it."

"So lump it," Giles said flatly. "Get used to the idea and smile." He said up and patted the bed beside him. "Now, blow out the candle and come to bed." She still hesitated. "Besides, if he causes trouble, we'll ask Melanie to come to stake him."

Buffy chuckled as he had intended. Melanie, the current Slayer, was almost as much trouble for her poor Watcher as Buffy had been for Giles. Buffy loved the girl greatly and spoke with her often, much to the Council's chagrin. But, of course, the Council of Watchers had never been the same since it had first met Buffy Summers.

"Okay," Buffy agreed cheerfully. "Now we've got a backup plan, I'm happy."

"So blow out the candle and come to bed," Giles repeated.

"What do I get if I do?"

"I'll let you tickle me," Giles offered magnanimously.

"Oh, yay for me." Buffy had plunged the room into darkness and attacked him almost before she had finished speaking.

"Remember," Giles warned her, "Cordy and Alex are in the room next door."

"Then you'll just have to be quiet," Buffy said wickedly, starting her campaign on his right side just below his ribs.

He gasped, rolling over and trying to grab her, but she danced away.

He followed, like any good Watcher should.

*

Cordelia blew out the candle and snuggled up with Alex. "I think everything is going very well," she said happily.

He smiled and kissed her. "Let's see? An unexpected family bombshell, a surprise vampire for the holidays and a major power cut. Yes, I think everything is going fine."

She kissed him back. "Shut up, you. You know what I mean."

"I was serious," he insisted. "For this family, that _is_ fine."

"Shut up," she said again, following up with another kiss.

Not much else was said after that.

*

From the outside, the house was dark, peaceful and still.

There was not a single light in the windows.

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