Title: And Baby Makes Three
Series: Magic Season (2/12)
Author: Kerry Blackwell-Dustin
Email: magicbox@whitehats.co.nz
Pairing: B/G, W/T, S/Dawn
Further disclaimers etc in part 0
Note: Sionell is pronounced "Sh-nell", along the same line as Siobhan.
Buffy flopped onto Dawn's sofa and grinned up at her long-time best friend. "Oooh, this feels good."
Willow sank down beside her and sighed. "We're getting old, Buffy."
Buffy nodded, a reflective expression on her face. "It's been a good life though, hasn't it, Will?" She gave a little snort, almost a laugh. "I mean, okay so there were demons and monsters and apocalypses, and blood and guts and goo and vampires and…"
"…lions and tigers, oh my!" Willow interjected with wicked smile and Buffy chuckled.
"I don't remember any tigers, but wasn't there a lion-demon once?"
"Technically it was a griffon," said Giles as he came in from the kitchen carrying a tray of coffee mugs, all steaming invitingly. "Head of an eagle, body of a lion."
"I remember that one," Dawn added as she followed with a plate of Christmas-decorated cookies. "I was so disappointed to find out something that cute-looking was evil."
"But fortunately also very stupid," Buffy said, remembering. She gave her sister an amused look. "You're lucky you still have fingers, you know."
Instinctively, Dawn curled the fingers of her free hand, as if she was just checking they were all really there. "It was _cute_," she defended herself. "And I was just a kid."
"Nearly a fingerless kid."
"Yeah, yeah," Dawn muttered. She picked up one of the cookies and stuffed it into her sister's mouth to prevent any further remarks.
Buffy chewed appreciatively and her eyes sparkled as she watched Dawn help Giles distribute mugs of coffee and cocoa. She knew exactly what her sister's motivation had been, but wasn't going to argue over it. Or at least, not unless it earned her another cookie. They were obviously Tara-made and totally delicious. And now that she'd thought of it…
She swallowed the last crumbs, accepted a cup of coffee from Rupert and asked, "Where's Tara?"
"She and Hazel went for a walk," Willow answered. "Dawn was out of milk and they volunteered to go and get some more."
"I think they really just wanted an excuse to go outside," Dawn added with a grin.
Willow made a point of shuddering theatrically. "Yeah, they seem to _like_ the cold. There's snow on the ground out there, you know."
"That's just your thin Sunnydale blood talking," a new voice interjected as Spike walked into the room. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of snow, Red."
"Exactly," Giles agreed, still not sure if he was happy about the fact that he and Spike seemed to agree on a lot of things these days. He rose and peered out the window. A neat lawn spread out on a gentle downwards slope until it reached the sidewalk. It was covered in a fine layer of snow, thin enough that the grass still showed through in places, and the road beyond was wet but clear of any snow itself. "Not much," he added. "Although looking at the sky, I'd say there should be more tonight."
"Remind you of the old country, mate?" Spike asked, half-curiously, half-sarcastically.
Giles turned away from the window and shrugged unexpectedly. "I don't know any more. I think a large part of me is American now."
Spike looked at Dawn with a scowl. "Know what you mean, Rupes," he muttered. He looked up, his gaze on Buffy now, his expression deliberately innocent. "It's these damn Summers women. They corrupt a man."
For a second Buffy looked like she was going to argue, then she began to laugh. "Right, Spike. Like _we_ corrupt _you_." She turned to look at her husband, still standing beside the window. "And as for snow and the 'old country', Rupert gets all cold and shivery whenever we go to England in the winter now."
Spike threw Giles a conspiratorial look. "That's my point, Slayer," he explained, ignoring the fact that Buffy hadn't been the Slayer for twenty years or more. "You force poor old Rupert to live in sunny Sunnyhell and suddenly he can't face a good English winter. It's _your_ fault."
Buffy gave him a steady look. "You do know I can still kick ass with the best of them, don't you Spike? _And_ I still carry a stake." But the edge that would have meant she was serious was missing from her voice and she knew Spike knew it. She had no intention of admitting it to anyone – except possibly Rupert – but the camaraderie that had grown out of Dawn and Spike getting together was something she cherished. This was how it should have been all those years ago; the relationship between herself and Spike a very weird but precious friendship and nothing more.
And if you couldn't insult your friends, who could you insult?
"I'm shaking in my boots," Spike promised her earnestly.
She didn't believe it for a second, but she grinned regardless. "Make sure it stays that way."
Dawn was studying her boyfriend's feet. "That's kind of hard, Buff, when he's currently sans shoes." She flicked a glance up at his face. "Have you been in my nail polish drawer again, Spike? Because I preferred the black to this whatever-it-is colour."
Spike looked down at his toes. "Ocean Mist," he answered helpfully. "Didn't quite have the effect I was hoping for."
Willow had put her hands over her ears. "I _so_ don't want to hear this," she insisted. "Can't we talk about something else? _Anything_ else?"
Joy, who had listened to the entire exchange with an amused look on her face, grinned. "So, Auntie Willow, did you know that facial tattoos and backless jeans are supposed to be all the rage next year?"
For an instant Willow looked positively pained, then, as she realised she'd walked right into that one, she began to laugh. "Just you wait, Joy Giles. I'll get you one day."
Joy chuckled. "I'm quaking in my stylish yet affordable boots," she promised without the smallest grain of truth. "In fact…" She trailed into silence as she saw the dark, distressed looks on the faces around her.
The grin faded into a worried frown. "What did I say?" she asked nervously. "Whatever it was, I didn't mean it, I promise."
"It's all right, sweetheart, you didn't say anything," Buffy assured her after a long moment that filled the room with a heavy silence, in which those that had been present remembered a long gone day when life had turned to song and lies to ashes.
"Yes, I did," Joy protested in a tight, nervous voice. "Your voice has gone all shaky and Dad looks like…" She shook her head and swallowed. "You all look really bad. What did I say?"
To her surprise, it was Spike that answered, his eyes on Buffy. "It's all right, pet," he promised. "What you said just reminded us of a bad time, that's all."
Giles had walked back to the sofa to stand behind Buffy. He rested his hands on her shoulder and his face was unusually dark.
"Yes, I did," Joy insisted almost hysterically. "Look at you all. Auntie Willow, you look like you're going to be sick. I'm sorry. Whatever it was, I'm really, really sorry."
Buffy closed her eyes. Everything in her that was a mother wanted to jump up and wrap her daughter in her arms and tell her that everything was all right. But another part of her, a part that was memories and yesterday held her still in old, remembered pain. She was grateful for Rupert's supportive presence behind her, holding her in today where the memories didn't hurt the same way.
"Joy," Giles began softly…
And the doorbell rang.
Buffy breathed out a long, shaky breath. "Saved by the bell," she whispered so softly only Rupert could hear. Willow turned her head to look at her, her eyes wide and full of sorrow, but Buffy shook her head, trying her best to smile.
Joy looked around the room at the adults, all remembering something painful she didn't understand; something that had obviously been censored from the family stories she had been told as a child. "I'll get that, shall I?" she asked rhetorically.
*****
The snow was beginning to fall more heavily as she opened the door. Her older sister was standing on the doorstep, her arms full of squirming baby. Angel was still back at the car, dragging out bags of baby things and the dismantled pieces of a portable cot. A stroller was lying on the ground, gathering a light coating of snow.
Joy's grin made Brianna turn her head to watch her husband. She chuckled. "He's _so_ into the fatherhood thing," she said. "Just about every time he goes out he comes home with some new toy or outfit or piece of furniture. I've given up telling him to stop; now I just let him carry everything."
Joy carefully folded back the blanket to expose her niece's not-so- smiling face. The baby's face was screwed up into a horrible scowl and she look like she was going to start screaming at any moment.
"Yeah," Brianna agreed without Joy needing to say a word. "Little missy is _not_ happy. She was sound asleep in the car and she didn't like being woken up when we stopped.
"Poor Nelly," Joy said sympathetically. "Did Mommy and Daddy make you wake up and face the relatives."
Angel, somehow managing to carry everything, reached them in time to hear Joy's words. He scowled himself, showing exactly whom his daughter had inherited the expression from.
"Don't call her that," he said more sharply than perhaps he had intended. "Her name's Sionell."
"Which, like I already told you when she was born," Joy retorted, "no- one will ever be able to spell or pronounce."
"She'll be fine," Brianna said quickly before an argument could start. "And Angel's right, Joy. She's going to be called by her full name. If she wants to change or shorten it when she's older, that's for her to choose. In the meantime, she's Sionell."
"I still think…" Joy began, undeterred, but she was interrupted by Sionell herself.
Deciding she wasn't getting a proper share of attention, or being brought in from the cold, the youngest member of the Giles family let out a roar that echoed around the hallway and proceeded to cry in great choking sobs.
As if the racket was a magical summoning, Buffy appeared in the hall, took in the scene with a glance and gave them all a disgusted look.
"For goodness sake, bring that child in out of the cold," she ordered. She bullied them all inside with ruthless efficiency – half the group were her offspring after all – and shut the door firmly.
Sionell was still crying and before Brianna could react Buffy had claimed her granddaughter and was expertly rocking the baby gently against her chest. "What's the matter, sweet thing?" she crooned as Sionell cried. "Aren't Mommy and Daddy looking after you right?"
Brianna was immediately affronted and Angel scowled.
"Of course we do," Brianna told her mother flatly. "She's just cranky because she was sleeping in the car and woke up when we stopped."
Buffy chuckled. "She obviously takes after both her parents then."
"Not funny, Buffy," Angel growled. He'd finally got his collection of baby accessories stacked in the hallway and he was staring at Buffy with an unamused expression on his face.
Buffy patted Sionell on the back absently as the baby continued to cry, remembering back to those first months with a new baby – or babies as it had been in her and Rupert's case. This new parent thing was a serious business.
"Sorry," she offered apologetically. "I didn't mean anything by it." She smiled at her daughter and son-in-law. "Nell has wonderful parents…" The smile turned into a wicked grin. "And if you're really lucky she might even appreciate it by the time she's… oh, about twenty one."
"Sionell," Angel corrected automatically, but he was looking mollified.
"No nicknames or short names," Joy explained with an air of superiority. "We were just discussing it."
"Okay," Buffy agreed easily, wondering how long that would last. She and Rupert had spent years trying to insure Brianna stayed Brianna, but as soon as their daughter went to junior high she became Bree. From that time onwards she had been Bree as much as she'd been Brianna.
Sionell was still crying, despite Buffy's best attempts to calm her. "Do you want to come in and see everyone now, or settle into your room and maybe feed this howling little lady?" she asked.
"Room and baby feeding," Bree answered firmly. "It's an hour past her usual time anyway, which is probably half her problem."
Buffy nodded and reluctantly handed back her granddaughter. "Joy, do you know where Dawn's put Bree and Angel?"
"Yeah," Joy agreed. "I'll show them." She helped Angel gather up his pile of necessities as Brianna tried to settle Sionell with an equal lack of success.
"Go on then," Buffy told them. "When you're done, you're to come back down and tell us all the news. And what were you doing in Madison anyway?" she added.
"Minor haunting," Angel said dismissively. "But it was a college friend of Brianna's, so we said we'd take care of it."
"In and out in fifteen minutes," Brianna added. "Sionell didn't even wake up."
"Well, she sure has now," Joy said firmly. "Come on, and I'll show you to your room."
The group trooped up the stairs, accompanied by Sionell's wails, and Buffy went back to join her husband and family.
Grandchildren, she reflected, have to be your reward for surviving your children.
*****
Angel watched his wife feed their daughter and contemplated, as he had an uncountable number of times before, just how lucky he was. It was a damn good thing his soul was no longer anchored only by a flawed gypsy curse, because if it had been he'd have lost it a million times by now.
Brianna looked up, recognised what he was thinking and smiled at him before returning her attention to Sionell.
The baby was still fussing a little, not settling to her mother's breast with the single-minded concentration she usually showed. Without thought, Angel brushed a hand gently across her downy head and started to sing softly an old lullaby from the previous century that always seemed to work wonders.
Sure enough, Sionell calmed and began to feed properly.
Brianna looked up at her husband again, and this time she laughed.
"What?" he demanded defensively.
She chuckled again. "Our daughter has terrible taste," she answered. "Because there are three sure things in life: death, taxes and the fact that you, my love, cannot sing."
"Sionell likes it," he protested.
His wife nodded, a loving smile on her face. "That's what I'm worried about."