TITLE: Girl on Film
SERIES: Ice and Fire (Part 9/12)
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! :-)

Cordelia pulled another gift from the rapidly diminishing pile under the Christmas tree.

"Who's next?" she asked, as she turned it over to read the label. "Well, who would have guessed? It's another one for Miri."

She passed the lumpy shape, wrapped in bright red Santa Claus paper, over to Miri. The child pounced on it with glee, tearing paper with enthusiasm. The shredded wrapping was soon pulled away to reveal a teddy bear.

He was a deliberately battered chap, with an arm in a sling and a bandage on his head. He also came ready for further action with a wooden crutch and a supply of extra bandages. Miri studied him thoughtfully for a moment, then hugged him tightly.

"Poor, sick bear," she said sadly. "He needs lots of hugs and love."

"I'm sure you can look after him really well," Willow assured her.

Miri nodded. "He just needs kisses to make it better."

"What are you going to call him, Kitten?" Susan asked. Miri already had an extensive collection of soft toy animals, each with its own name and personality. It was getting harder and harder to find her daughter something new and different each year. So as soon as she had seen this one - part of a fundraising project for an accident response service - she'd bought him on the spot and he's been living hidden in a cupboard since August. She could have chosen a doctor in scrubs or a rescue bear rappelling down a cliff to save the victim at the bottom, but she had felt sorry for this poor injured fellow herself and been sure Miri would react the same way.

Miri looked at the bear again, then gently touched the bandage with one finger. "Grandad," she said firmly. "It's Grandad."

"What?" Giles spluttered.

"He's got a banged head, Grandad," Miri explained. "Just like you."

Giles gave his son a dirty look. "Who's been telling stories? I haven't had a concussion in years."

Wesley had the grace to look a little guilty. "Sorry, Dad. But when the storybooks get boring, there's nothing more interesting than Gran and Grandad stories."

It was Buffy's turn to glare at Wesley. "Are you saying you tell your daughter about fighting vampires and demons as _bedtime stories_?" she demanded, her voice rising on the last words.

"Good stories," Miri said in satisfaction. "Gran, you and Grandad _always_ beat the bad things." She nodded and went back to hugging her new toy. "Good stories."

"I'm not sure..." Giles began.

Wesley interrupted him. "We edit appropriately, Dad. Don't worry. But when she asks for _real_ stories, where else do you expect me to get my information from?"

Brianna chuckled. "Besides, he's just retelling the tales you told us when _we_ wanted real stories. Right, Wes?"

Her brother nodded, grateful for the back up. Giles sighed. "I suppose this means 'Giles gets knocked unconscious' stories are going to be told to children for generations?"

"Yep," Brianna agreed cheerfully. "I'm going to have to practice before our baby comes."

"I hope you also have a collection of 'Giles saves the day' stories to tell," Buffy told her children warningly. "Because I _know_ I told you those, too."

"Lots," Wesley promised.

"Don't worry, Grandad," Miri said, looking up again. She stood up and walked over to him. She handed 'Grandad Bear' over for a moment and climbed into his lap. "I'll look after you and make you all better."

"Thank you, Miri," Giles said weakly as he gave the toy back to her. "I'm glad you will."

"Next present?" Cordelia asked.

At several nods, she handed out another round of gifts, taking special care to leave behind the large box wrapped in shiny gold paper, just as she had been instructed.

"Angel." She passed over a flat box with a red ribbon on it.

"Gunn." Something long and thin that looked suspiciously like a knife or dagger.

"Joy." A weird shaped _something_, clumsily wrapped in a patchwork of different pieces of Christmas paper. "From Miri," Cordy added unnecessarily.

She picked up another parcel, clearly a paperback, and looked at the name on it in surprise. "Spike."

"Huh?" He glanced up from where he was sitting beside Dawn, trying not to look too bored.

"Present for you," Cordelia informed him and tossed it over.

He caught it easily, turning it over to find a gift tag. It was a Halloween one, with a grinning pumpkin on a black background. A white sticker had been placed over the word 'Halloween' and scribbled in its place was 'Holidays' in Dawn's familiar handwriting.

Startled, and more than a little touched, he tore off the wrapping - also black but with narrow with red stripes on it. Inside he found a paperback book. He turned it over and found himself confronted by a scantily clad woman swooning in the arms of a very bad artist's rendition of a stereotypical Hollywood movie vampire. In embossed red letters across the bottom, the title screamed 'My Boyfriend is a Vampire'.

"_What_ is this?" he finally managed to ask.

"Pulp romance," Dawn answered with a chuckle. "One of the people in my writers' circle gave it to me. She's trying to convert me to reading that 'paranormal stuff she knows I don't believe in'. For some strange reason she thought that might convert me." Dawn gave him a wicked look. "Actually I spent most of my time laughing about how totally _wrong_ the author got her vampires. I thought it might amuse you."

Spike didn't look impressed.

"Okay," Dawn admitted. "And I didn't want it sullying up my bookcase."

"So you gave it to me."

Dawn sighed heavily. "It's a _joke_, Spike. Read it. Laugh. Think up ways to go and show the author how wrong she is."

He smiled. "Okay, luv." He opened it and skimmed over the first page. "That might be fun."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Any more presents, Cordy?" she asked, changing the subject. "Surely we must be all gifted out by now."

"Just one," Cordelia answered, dragging out the box that had been carefully saved for last. "It's for Buffy and Giles."

Angel reached across and intercepted the box. He and Brianna stood and together presented it to her parents.

"Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad." Bree smiled at them as Giles automatically accepted the parcel, arms dropping a little as he found the box was heavier than he had expected. "After endless mucking about, they finally got this to us. We thought it wasn't going to arrive in time for Christmas."

"But what is it?" Buffy asked, sounding a little bewildered.

Her daughter laughed outright. "I'm not telling you that."

"That's why you open it," Angel added. "To find out what's inside."

Buffy gave him a look. "Well, duh." She turned on the sofa so that she was facing her husband, leaving just enough space between them for the box. "Put it down, Rupert, and we'll open it together."

Giles would have carefully removed the paper and folded it up neatly for later use. Buffy's preference, on the other hand, was to tear the wrapping off as fast as possible to find out what was inside. After being married for so long, they still hadn't found a workable compromise.

This time, Buffy's impatience won.

The paper hit the floor in record time and Giles and Buffy were soon looking at a beautifully constructed box of polished wood. It had brass hinges and a delicate, matching brass lock. The key was tied to the lock, a burgundy and gold tassel knotted around the top of the key and providing a bright spot of colour.

Buffy laughed. "It's going to be like one of those presents you gave us when you were little. Lots and lots of layers and a penny inside."

"Open it," Brianna said simply.

This time Giles took over the opening duties, untying the key and slipping it into the lock. It turned easily and he lifted the lid with care. Buffy leaned over to peer inside.

Nestled inside the box, on a lining of blue velvet, was a book. Bound in soft-tooled burgundy leather, it had two letters embossed in gold on the cover. A delicate uncial 'B' intertwined with an 'A' in the same alphabet.

"Oh," Giles whispered softly.

"Is this what I think it is?" Buffy asked, looking up at her daughter and son-in-law.

"Open it," Angel said simply.

So Giles lifted the cover.

A woman dressed all in white, with lace in her hair and love in her eyes, smiled up at him from the photograph on the front page. The man standing at her side, tall and handsome in his old-fashioned black suit, had eyes only for her.

"Oh," Buffy gasped. "Oh, sweetheart."

"You like?" Brianna asked.

Buffy reached out to touch the photograph, her fingers stopping just before they reached the surface. She trailed the line of her daughter's face in the air.

"I love it," Buffy told her softly.

"But what is it?" Joy finally burst out from across the room. "The rest of us can't see. We can just hear you guys being all mushy."

Giles had been staring at the photograph ever since he had opened the book's cover. At Joy's words he finally looked up. "It's Bree and Angel's wedding album."

Buffy turned another page and she was looking at herself. She must have been the proudest mother-of-the-bride ever that day. In the photo, she was standing beside Angel, while Brianna had her hand resting lightly on Giles' arm.

Feeling the page move, Giles looked down again and smiled at the second image revealed. "You were beautiful that day," he told Buffy softly. "Almost as beautiful as the day I married you."

Buffy felt tears building in her eyes and she looked up at the blurry image of her husband's face. He smiled back, leaned over and kissed her.

"Enough with the mushy," Cordelia said firmly. "The rest of us want to see too." She gave Angel an amused look. "So did threatening that photographer with the fires of Hell actually work? Seven months after the wedding is way late for finally getting the albums done."

He laughed. "No, it was the threat not to pay him that did the trick. Suddenly, he was working on our job to the exclusion of all else. We've got everyone else's reprints and stuff at home, as well as our own album. But we really wanted them ready in time so we could give Buffy and Giles theirs for Christmas."

"Thank you," Giles said simply.

Buffy's eyes were still bright with tears. "It's a wonderful gift."

"Aunt Cordy's right," Wesley said, coming to stand behind his parents. "The rest of us want to look, too."

Soon, the album was laid out on the carpet, and everyone was peering over each other's shoulders to get a change to see the photographs. Buffy wouldn't let anyone except Giles touch the book, and she was doing the honours of turning the pages.

At one photograph, Giles reached out and laid his hand over hers, stopping her from going on. It was an image of Brianna alone, standing in her old bedroom in her parents' house before the wedding. The photographer had posed her so that she was looking into the long mirror with the carved frame that Dawn had given her on her fifth birthday. The Brianna-in-the-mirror was smiling softly as if there was something hidden behind the glass and silver that only she could see.

"What are you thinking?" Buffy asked softly.

"An eight year old in her mother's wedding dress," Giles answered.

Brianna gave a bark of laughter. "Oh, please don't bring that up!"

"What?" Angel asked immediately.

"No," Brianna begged.

"You were beautiful," her father said quietly. "Trying to walk in your mother's shoes, with her dress all wrapped around your legs, her veil draped around your shoulders like a scarf. You were the most amazing thing I had ever seen."

"I wish I'd seen you," Angel said with a chuckle.

"No, you don't. Nothing fitted, I nearly broke my ankle and I must have looked totally stupid."

"You were beautiful," Giles repeated. "I look at this photo and that's the image I expect to see in the mirror."

"Oh, Daddy." Brianna's voice was wobbly, caught between tears and embarrassment.

"Beautiful," Giles insisted.

"This is all a load of total bollocks!" Spike's voice cut across the room, breaking the moment totally.

Buffy turned and glared at him, but he didn't even notice. He was waving the paperback around, looking totally incensed. "_I_ could do better than this."

Buffy's expression eased the tiniest fraction when she realised he wasn't talking about either Brianna or the wedding photos. "Better than what?" she demanded coldly.

"This rubbish." He waved the book in her face. "This bint doesn't know a thing about vampires, she can't write to save herself and her prose is so purple it's heading into the ultraviolet."

"So do better," Buffy snapped.

Spike stopped ranting for a moment to actually look at her. "You know what?" he asked rhetorically. "I think I just might."

Dawn laughed. "Go on, then, William the Bloody Awful Poet. I dare you. You write a decent book and I promise I'll get my agent to take a look at getting it published."

"Done," he agreed instantly.

"Done," Dawn repeated a little less exuberantly. She had the feeling she'd just created a monster.

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