Title: Witch Hazel
Series: Magic Season (10/12)
Author: Kerry Blackwell-Dustin
Email: magicbox@whitehats.co.nz
Pairing: B/G, W/T, S/Dawn
Further disclaimers etc in part 0
Miriam hurtled down the giant spiral slide at a rate that appeared to be approaching the speed of sound.
She had tried out almost every apparatus in the monster park and the big slide was her favourite by far. The swings had been summarily dismissed as baby stuff', while the climbing bars had been fun but provided little challenge. She did like the obstacle course and had made her way through that several times. Susan had had the foresight to bring a change of clothes for her daughter; so Miri had jeans and a warm sweater to play in, while her best Christmas dress was draped safely over the back seat of the car.
"Catch me, Hazel!" she shrieked as she rounded the last corner.
She flew off the end of the slide at a rate of knots, slamming into Hazel and knocking them both to the luridly green safety turf.
Miri giggled happily while Hazel tried desperately to get her breath back. "You caught me," the girl told Hazel seriously.
"You flattened me," Hazel managed to respond in a hoarse voice.
"I did," Miri agreed with satisfaction. "It was really cool." She turned beguiling eyes on the older girl. "Can we do it again."
"No, you cannot," Susan interjected firmly. "Hazel isn't your landing pad, you know."
Miriam pouted beautifully, an expression obviously inherited from her grandmother, and Hazel felt herself weakening. Susan, however, was clearly immune to her child's wiles. She held out Miri's coat, no hint of her amusement showing on her face.
"It's time to go home," she said firmly. "Coat, Miri."
The pout turned into a frown that was much less attractive. "I want to stay and play," Miriam declared and turned her back on her mother, clearly heading back to the steps up to the top of the slide.
"Miriam Frances Giles," Susan warned in a low voice.
Miri stopped. She didn't turn around again, but her body language was clear - did she do as she was told or did she try to assert her grown-up, six year old independence by defying her mother?
After a short internal struggle, the girl turned and came back. She held out her arms meekly and let Susan help her into her coat. Once all the buttons were done up, she trudged from the covered playground back to the car with a heavy step, the picture of martyred innocence.
Susan and Hazel followed a few steps behind. Susan was chuckling quietly. "I hate to think what she's going to be like at sixteen," she confided to Hazel. "I think she'll have driven both Wes and me insane by then, don't you?"
Hazel really didn't know what to say in reply. At sixteen she had been a studious, well, geek for lack of a better world. Caught up in the magic that was knowledge and learning the knowledge of magic, she'd had little time for much else. Miri didn't seem to be the same type at all. Willow and Tara had been worried about spells going wrong or their daughter getting into the wrong books too soon. Wesley and Susan were more likely to be concerned about boys, cars and missed curfews.
Susan saw the look on her face and laughed out loud. "Don't worry, Hazel. It was a rhetorical question."
Miri was waiting for them when they reached the car, all signs of attempted rebellion vanished. She gave her mother her most persuasive look. "Can we come back tomorrow, Mommy?" she asked. "Daddy and Jemmy could come too. And Hazel," she added as a sudden afterthought.
Susan unlocked the doors and helped Miriam into her seat with a chuckle. "I thought we were going to see the fish tomorrow."
Miri's face lit. "Yay," she chortled happily, the playground forgotten for the moment. "Pretty fishes." She let herself be buckled into her seat without an argument. "And Hazel will come too?"
Hazel nodded. "I promised already, didn't I?"
She was rewarded by a brilliant smile that made her stomach lurch and confirmed her already formed but unspoken wish to have lots of children of her own. She loved her mothers dearly, but had often wished for brothers and sisters. Her children would have lots of each - as well as plenty of friends and family to help look after them and save Hazel and their as yet unknown father avoid from having physical and nervous breakdowns.
Miriam gazed wistfully back at the playground, full of other children still getting to swing and slide and climb. Susan caught a glimpse of her expression in the rear view mirror and set about distracting her.
"When we get back to Auntie Dawn's, honey, it might be time to open our Christmas presents," she said temptingly.
The magic word 'presents' had exactly the effect she had been intending. Miri was off; for the thirty minutes it took to get back to Dawn's house Susan and Hazel were regaled with tales of what Santa was going to be bringing Miri, what Miri had made for Jeremy and more details than they would ever want to know about the tea cosy Miri had made in craft class for Grandad.
"It's a hat for his teapot," she explained in case either Hazel or her mother didn't know what a tea cosy was. "And it's blue and green and red and yellow and we made it with wool and felt and glue and Ms Brown said mine was the best of all and I said I had a _real_ English grandad to give it to and she said that was very special and wasn't I lucky and..."
"I sometimes think the kid doesn't need to breathe," Susan confided softly to Hazel as Miriam continued to talk non-stop. "But so far she hasn't caught fire while out in the sunlight, so I'm not panicking yet."
Hazel laughed, and settled back to enjoy the drive, only half listening to Miriam's chatter.
As they turned into Dawn's street, Hazel felt a funny little lurch in her stomach, as if there was something out there trying to touch her. Her skin prickled, like tiny little feet dancing across it. She tensed, imagining spiders walking all over her. But as she reached out with her senses, trying to find the intruder, the sensation eased into a gentle caress, the touch of a hand sliding gently across her skin.
She reached further, trying to find who or what was doing this, but as soon as she focussed on it, tried to trace it, it faded away. If she relaxed, it came back, warm and welcoming.
"Hazel?"
It was Susan's voice, sounding anxious and worried. It took Hazel a moment to realise they were parked in Dawn's driveway, Miriam was already out of the car and staring at Hazel with wide eyes while Susan leaned over her, talking about something Hazel had missed completely.
"Susan," she whispered, and as she spoke the world slotted back into sharp focus again.
"Are you all right? You kind of spaced out halfway down the street. Should I get your moms? Can I help you inside?"
Hazel shook her head. Susan's worried queries seemed absurd; she felt better than she had in her entire life. Like... She wasn't sure what it was like yet; it was still too new, but whatever it was, if felt _right_.
"I'm fine," she promised. "Really." To prove her point she jumped out of the car and swung Miri up into her arms. "I'm okay kiddo, promise."
Miriam laughed, but swiftly sobered again. "You looked funny, Hazel," she said in a serious voice. "But not ha ha funny."
"I felt funny for a moment," Hazel admitted. "But I'm fine now." She set Miri on her feet again and gave her a conspiratorial grin. "What say we go inside and check out those presents?"
"Presents," Miriam agreed happily and led the way into the house.
Susan still looked worried. "Hazel..." she began, then shook her head. "Let's go inside. Whatever happens, happens."
Hazel gave her a curious look, not understanding, but then that lurching thing happened in her stomach again, this time bringing with it the illusion of strong arms wrapping her in their embrace.
She stopped, enjoying the feeling, but once again it disappeared when she tried to trace it. It wasn't as if the whatever-it-was was withdrawing from her when she looked for it; it was more like a connection that hadn't been properly made yet. Like a faulty fuse wire or a bad phone line, where the connection came and went sporadically.
She didn't know that inside the living room, a man had stopped speaking mid-sentence. He turned towards the door and waited, anticipation and desperate, disbelieving hope on his face.
Outside, Hazel laughed suddenly, the sound bright and joyful. She spun around to face Susan, who was looking anxious again. "He's here, isn't he?" she asked. She bit her lip and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly a little girl again, but the smile never dimmed. If anything, it grew even brighter. "He's here," she repeated.
Before Susan could say anything - an affirmation or a denial, warning or encouragement - Hazel had sprinted past Miriam, thrown open the door and raced through the hall to the living room.
She skidded to a halt in the doorway.
He was sitting near her mothers; at her precipitous entrance he rose to his feet and stood, watching her as if she was a miracle.
Looking at him, Hazel saw a myriad of images, shifting and changing. A man in his thirties overlaid them all, dark-haired and amber-eyed with a fine mouth and fit athletic body. He was dressed causally in jeans, an opened necked shirt and hand-knitted sweater, but there was an old-world kind of grace about him.
There were other images as well, although Hazel somehow knew that they were all the same man. There was a boy of about ten with shaggy hair and a dirty face. An older man who reminded her of her Uncle Giles, quintessentially English and exuding a sense of warmth and wisdom. Another version of the same man stood with an owl on his shoulder and old, old eyes as he watched a kingdom fall. And flicking in and out amongst all these snapshots were the curved beak and intelligent golden eyes of a raptor.
She blinked and the images faded without quite disappearing completely. The young man stood there, still watching her with those hope-filled amber eyes.
Hazel knew Tara and Willow were watching her; all her extended family and friends waiting to see what would happen next and to leap to her defence if they felt it was warranted. She knew they were there, she could almost tell what they were thinking and feeling, but all she was truly aware of was the man across the room.
She started walking in his direction and with every step that lurching, warming feeling of familiarity and belonging grew stronger and stronger. A step away from him she stopped and managed with difficulty to turn her head and smile at her mothers.
Then she took that last step into his arms, into trust and warmth and love and home.
For an instant he was still, then his arms slid around her, feeling just the way they had on the path outside, and he bent his head and buried his face in her hair.
"You came to me," he murmured and his voice was hoarse and choked. "You came."
Hazel found herself stroking his hair. "Of course I came," she whispered reassuringly. "However could I not?"
Smiling, Hazel cupped his face in her hands and kissed her soulmate for the first of countless times.
Buffy was nestled up against her husband, watching with a soft smile on her face. "I think our extended family just got extended again," she whispered and he squeezed her shoulder and nodded in agreement.