The drive from the LA airport to the mansion on the outskirts of
Sunnydale couldn't have been more than forty-five minutes, but for
Margaret Avery, loving mother of three teenage girls and professional
complainers, it seemed like ten hours. In addition to Nicole's "I
hate California! The air here is bad for my skin. Mom, tell Mary to
close the window!" and Mary's "Why couldn't we just send a card from
Chicago? We'll hardly know anyone there. And tell Nicole that the
rest of us actually need to breath!" she had to deal with Jane's
constant whining about the price she was paying for accompanying the
family on this trip: time away from her boyfriend. Frankly, Margaret
couldn't help feeling relieved at the short separation between her
eldest daughter and Larry the Punk, though she would no doubt feel
it's consequences when she got Jane's phone bill at the end of the
weekend.
And to top it off she had to deal with the eternal classic from all
three angels: "how long till we get there?"
As they pulled into the driveway of the large mansion Margaret
marveled at how Frank's grandmother managed to live there all alone,
with none of her five children--all grandparents by now--living
anywhere in the area, and barely even in the same state. It was only
one of the reasons Margaret thought her a bit cuckoo, to be polite.
What made the old lady stubbornly refuse to move to a nursing home
and closer to her children, and their children, and their children,
in fact? But no, she insisted on staying in that little town, an
invisible dot on the map of the United States, in a dreary old
mansion she inherited from a friend once upon a time. Besides that,
old Nana Buffy was strange in many ways. No one could argue with the
fact that at times her ramblings made no sense at all. Frank was
always patient when she ambled on about demons and ghouls and slayers
and whatnot, and she and the girls would listen half-heartedly and
put it a nod once in a while.
The whole reunion was a bit of a nuisance, really, but it meant a lot
to Frank, who met the full assembly of his large family on rare
occasions, seeing as he had sixteen cousins and each of them had
their own families scattered throughout the States. Nana's 100th
birthday was the perfect excuse for a family reunion, and Margaret
figured that the head count would amount to about seventy. She
herself wasn't a fan of these grandiose occasions, especially when
she hardly knew anyone there, but it was only one night and a trip to
California besides.
The mansion was decorated beautifully, she had to admit, and they
were greeted inside by Frank's brother Henry, who had organized the
whole event. After warm hugs and kisses he led them to a few rooms
upstairs.
"You came in straight from the airport? Take some time to rest up and
change, and come down at around five p.m... It's good to see you,
Frank... Is that you, Mary? My, how you've grown!"
Mary blushed and hid behind her mother. Yes, Margaret rolled her
eyes, now she remembers to be shy and timid.
Nana Buffy didn't come up to meet them. She was probably downstairs,
Margaret imagined--why make the long trip up and down the stairs more
times than necessary? She briefly considered going down to say hi but
dismissed the thought. She would see enough of Nana tonight, and she
doubted the old woman would even remember her. Besides, the girls
were calling for help with their dresses--the one benefit they had
gotten out of this weekend, though her credit card had suffered
terribly--and a mother's job was never done.
***
Nicole adjusted the skirt of her dress with a last look in the mirror
before heading downstairs. She was sick of Jane's voice in the
background on the cell with her boyfriend, reluctant to admit that
maybe she was slightly jealous of her sister. Jane was seventeen, and
although she herself was only one year younger, sometimes it seemed
to Nicole like she would never quite catch up.
She perked up as she caught a glance of a tall blond head, forgetting
her thoughts and considering there might be hope for tonight—and
immediately shuddered at the thought. Disgusting! The guy was
probably her cousin! His eyes turned to her and she blushed,
embarrassed at her thoughts. She straightened her back, forcing
herself to look cool, set her gloved hand on the wooden banister and
proceeded to drift down the stairs demurely. It was unbelievable what
a huge event they were making out of this, she mused. Nobody even
knew Nana Buffy, not really, she was barely coherent at the best of
days, and yet all these people were here to celebrate in her honor.
And the old woman probably didn't even recognize they were there.
Well, they were, and despite all her previous resistance, Nicole
discovered she did enjoy the luxurious benefits of the weekend, which
included staying at the ancient mansion--God knew how Nana had
purchased it or how much money she had--and the opportunity to wear a
fancy dress, most likely one she'd have to reuse at her prom because
her mother had spent an obscene amount of money on it. But this was a
black-tie event, and it was fun to dress up for once, even if it was
absurdly expensive. Not that the family's financial condition was bad
or anything, knock-on-wood, but this wasn't a movie premier either.
She was startled out of her thoughts by the tall blond cousin she saw
earlier.
"Nicole, right?"
... and he was good looking too. Damn.
"Yeah," she replied, with a puzzled frown. "Have we met?"
"The barbecue at Tom and Helen's, about seven years ago, remember?
New York City? I'm Chris."
"Chris!" It clicked into place. "Of course I remember you! You were
the kid in the pink trunks."
His face held a pained expression. "Don't remind me."
She chuckled. "Christmas present from mommy?"
"From your parents, actually."
She winced. "Sorry."
"It's cool." He smiled. "No childhood traumas."
"So, who's are you?" she asked, aware that this wasn't the politest
way to start a conversation but that it was the only way to keep
track.
He understood. "Nana Buffy's Laura's Michael's. From Michigan."
"Buffy's Grace's Frank's, Chicago."
He gave her an amused look. "This can't be normal, right?"
She returned his gaze with a giggle. "No way, it's too weird. How
many people here do you know?"
"About a two dozen, I guess, including you."
She snorted. "You beat me. I can name ten people in the room, tops."
"It's not so bad, though. Just think how useful a big family can be
when it comes to wedding presents."
"By the time I'm married," she sighed skeptically, "this family will
be scattered in so many states they won't bother to send cards.
Believe me, once Nana hits the dirt, no one will keep in touch."
"You're probably right," he agreed. "We hardly get together as it is.
Do you think Buffy's glad we're all here?"
"Her kids, maybe; the rest of us, I don't know. She's so cut off from
everybody. I'm pretty sure she won't know my name. I've only met her
four times."
"I've met her three. Poor woman," he said, in the low tone of one
gossiping in company. "She kept talking about demons the whole time I
was in the room. Completely wacko."
"Demons? I got angels. I guess that's better, but I was still pretty
uncomfortable."
"Why do you think she's like that?"
"My guess?" she said knowingly. "She was a very boring little girl
who had a very boring childhood and watched too much--what do you
call it?--TV, and now she's old and unstable and she thinks her
fantasy stories actually happened."
He burst out laughing. "I could see that happening. She looks the old-
fashioned type."
"Are you kidding? Those weird dresses she wears are so out dated,
early 30's at least."
"I'd hate to end up like that," he said seriously.
She raised an eyebrow. "Wearing dresses from the thirties?" That
earned her a chuckle, but then she got serious. "I know what you
mean. It's got to be so dull and lonely... fifty years alone, after
her husband died, without so much as a single affair, and suddenly
she's a hundred years old and losing her mind, with a couple of nasty
great-grandchildren laughing at her behind her back."
"Ouch," he grimaced. "We're horrible, aren't we?"
"The worst. Should we go say hi?"
"Well, yeah, now that I feel all guilty," he said accusingly.
As they made their way to the main ballroom, they were joined by a
few other teenagers. Needless to say, the long introductions were
getting tiresome.
"I'm Helen, Buffy's Joan's Ronnie's."
"Lila, Buffy's Steve's Jenny's."
"David, Buffy's Laura's Denise's."
"Julie, Buffy's Joan's Ellen's."
By the time they were done they had reached the ballroom and were
greeted with a scene out of a fairy tale.
"Oh. My. God." Were the only words that could come out of Nicole's
mouth.
"I second that," David added.
"Incredible," said Lila with awe.
The walls of the great room were lined with buffet tables featuring
food of every size and shape, delicately designed, a feast fit for
kings. While one table might be heaped with salads, the next would
have trays and trays of fish, the next meat, drinks, cookies, enough
to feed a country at least. But the main attraction stood in the
center of the room upon a low dais: A four-tiered iced cake designed
as a family tree, adorned with real photos, starting with Buffy and
her husband at the top, her five children fitted on the second layer,
her grandchildren on the third and all the great grandchildren making
up the base. The whole thing stood taller than a man.
"Ooh"ing and "ahh"ing, the group drew near the cake and inspected it
closely.
"I thought pictures in Nana's day were black and white!" Helen
exclaimed.
"My God, she was pretty!" Lila sighed.
"I would kill for hair like that." Julie stated. "Look at them! What
an adorable pair of blondes!"
Nicole stared at the old photo of her great grandmother who returned
back the look from the picture, a bright smile on her face, a twinkle
in her eyes, leaning back into the chest of her husband who was
grinning proudly. They were both blonds. Something didn't fit...
She frowned. "What was his name?"
"Riley," replied Chris. "My dad says I resemble him, what do you
think?"
"Yeah, kind of, I guess."
"What a lucky girl," Lila commented, indicating picture-Buffy.
"Why?" Nicole questioned.
The other girls stared at her and back at the couple in the
photo. "Did you see the guy? Tall, blond and handsome!"
"Looks like a gentleman, too," said Julie.
"Nah, I bet he swept her off her feet!" giggled Helen.
"Really?" Nicole wondered. "Doesn't strike me as a sweeper." She
leaned closer to study Riley. He was good looking, she admitted, in
an old-fashioned all-American way. Broad chest, strong arms, a
stable, honest, cheerful face. She must have imagined something was
wrong. Figures he'd be the guy that a simple, normal girl like Buffy
would fall for.
"No, you're right," she admitted. "They seem to fit together
perfectly. Lucky girl..." she trailed off.
With a last look at the cake they stepped though the entrance of a
great hall. The stony floor and walls were cold but the room radiated
a sort of heat. On the deep couch in front of the fireplace sat
Buffy.
Nicole's heart pinched as she thought of the sunny young woman from
the picture compared to the hunched white-haired figure that sank in
the deep cushions. She watched Nana meekly address her cousins, who
each left with a different expression on their faces, mostly of pity.
She was the last to greet her.
"Hi, Nana."
"What?" Buffy said in a daze. She looked up at her son who stood over
her protectively. "What did she say?"
Steve looked at Nicole. "You have to speak louder or she won't hear
you well."
"Hi Nana, it's Nicole," she tried again.
Buffy blinked. "Nicole? You look different... I remember when you
were a little girl you had light hair."
"Well, it grew dark," Nicole said, surprised that she'd remembered
her at all.
"No, no, it's not that simple...not good... Come here," she
commanded. Nicole obediently leaned in. Nana peered at her closely
and her eyes softened. "More and more like..." She looked frightened.
Nicole lifted her gaze up to Steve with worry. "Is she okay?"
"She's probably just getting tired, that's all. Rest, Mom, Nicole
will get you a drink."
"No--" Buffy's tone was surprisingly sharp. "Too much... you're an
angel Nicole, an angel, of an angel... We need to protect the family
from the demons."
Steve rolled his eyes. "Just ignore her, Nicole, she's been this way
all night. She wasn't thrilled about this whole party."
"Thrilled!" Buffy snorted derisively. "It's dangerous! You have to
find Willow's girl!"
"Who's Willow's girl?" Nicole inquired.
"Nobody, she's been talking about her since yesterday."
"I'm not that daft!" Buffy protested weakly. "Willow's girl has to be
here because they're coming..."
"Who?" Nicole said with a tinge of excitement.
Buffy slowly raised her fist to clench a cross medallion hanging from
a chain around her neck. "The vampires..."
Nicole's interest evaporated, and she was filled with pity for the
miserable old lady who was lost in her own nightmares. Fantasies. "It
was nice seeing you, Nana," she said helplessly and hurried away.
When she rejoined her group of friends they were talking about
Nana. "Why do I feel like I've just met the Pope?" mused David.
"Because, like the Pope, she's an old unintelligible person who
preaches about the apocalypse," replied Chris.
"She really freaked out when she saw my hair was dark," said Nicole.
"And she kept mentioning this girl and a tree..." Julie put in.
"Right! Willow's girl," Nicole explained knowingly. "To help fight
the vampires."
They all laughed, and Chris started saying, "suppose it's all true.
Suppose goblins exist and Hellmouths open and close and vampires are
real. Explain to me why any self respecting vampire would crash a
little old lady's birthday par--"
He was cut short by an enormous bang as the two doors to the room
swung aside. "Hello, everybody!" came a cheerful voice in a cockney
accent. "Hope I'm not too late!"
The teens look around and at each other, wide-eyed. "Who's that?"
whispered Helen. No one knew.
"I'm sorry," Nicole's father said politely, "are you sure you're in
the right place?"
The stranger had bleached hair and a long brown duster. He looked
around and surveyed the faces in front of them. "Pretty sure, yeah.
Too many blond heads here for you not to be Fish Boy's brats."
"I'm sorry?" Frank said indignantly.
"You heard me, Finn. It is Finn, right?" Frank was about to reply
when the stranger interrupted him. "Never could stand the name, or,
matter of fact, the man. So where is the guest of honor?" Frank
looked confused, as did most of the people in the room. "Buffy, you
dolts, the founder of your clan, the head of the tribe, the big mama,
where is she?"
Frank seemed to have lost control over the situation. Everybody
looked at the other guy. "Oh, come on! You're not going to tell me?"
He laughed incredulously. He raised two fingers to his mouth and blew
a long sharp whistle. In marched aggressively thirty or so grown men
who looked eager for battle. The stranger leaned menacingly towards
Frank. "Tell me where she is."
Bravely, Frank said, "I think you'd better leave before I call he
cops."
"Oh, for heaven sake!" The man rolled his eyes with exasperation. He
snapped his fingers. "Show them."
As one, the thirty men's faces transformed into gruesomely twisted
overhanging foreheads, and they bared fanged teeth. The crowd started
screaming. Nicole's heart caught in her throat. Impossible.
Beside her, Lila was squeezing her hand so hard she almost cut off
the circulation. Chris's face was chalk white, and Helen and David
were clinging to the wall. Julie had run off.
The whole group was in absolute panic when a loud voice rang across
the room and shocked them all into silence. "Spike." Buffy's voice
was rusty and hoarse but it vibrated with determination.
"Slayer!" He shouted happily. "Long time no see!"
She looked at him unwaveringly, and then said plainly: "Fuck you."
"That's no way to greet an old friend!" he protested.
"You look so... exactly... the same."
"Actually, I go with black hair nowadays. I only bleached to make you
feel old. Did it work?" he asked with a self satisfied smirk.
"Fuck you," she grumbled again.
"Oh, Slayer," he said disappointedly. "Don't make it easy for me to
make jokes about your being senile! It's hard enough trying not to
mention your height. Amazing how much you've shrunk."
"Can I say `Fuck you' enough times?"
"While I enjoy your witty conversation as ever, we both know why I'm
here."
Buffy sank against the doorframe to support her. In a feeble voice
she spit, "Bastard."
He chuckled. "You're very unimaginative today, Buffy, I must say I'm
disappointed." He strolled around the room slowly, taking in all the
faces, muttering to himself occasionally. "Slight resemblance...
Farmer Boy's chin, perhaps... definitely the right build... and here,
here," he eyed Frank with interest. Nicole's heart skipped a beat.
Spike circled her father like a vulture. "No resemblance at all, to
either one of them, but I can smell his blood..." he licked his lips.
"Don't touch him!" Nicole burst. Everyone froze and turned to look at
her, and Spike let out a chortle of surprise.
"Well, well, if it isn't genetics in action!" He exclaimed, and
turned to Buffy with an appreciating glance. Oddly, it looked almost
as if she had a pleading expression on her face. Spike kept
going. "She's a female version of him!" The smile he directed at her
was very secretive. "I always knew it had to happen, always wondered…
did it happen more than once? Was it a spur of the moment thing, or
did it build up? Was it your first child, or your fourth or fifth? I
could spend hours now, catching up."
Nicole was terrified. Spike was standing almost on top of her,
staring into her face. "Absolutely unbelievable... And nobody's ever
noticed? A black haired brat in the midst of this Aryan
tribe? ...unbelievable..." A cruel spark lit his eyes. "I'll be sure
to tell him that I killed her." Nicole was rooted to her spot in
terror and couldn't budge. He turned back to her and patted her
cheek. "Don't worry, angel. As a special favor to your great-
grandfather, I'll kill you last."
"Vator!" Cried a strong feminine voice from the entrance of the
building. A panting girl ran into the room, intoning in as steady a
voice as she could manage. "Kol koreh bamidbar lechol ha'aretz, ve hu
hagadol mila tova bli yom sagur glimot, sheker almin ke yaniach etom
velo vyrbie kalow! Etmol bachamsh tipesh! Yashar yea'se!"
A flash of white light blinded everybody's eyes, and the partygoers
screamed in panic. It was a full minute before Nicole regained her
eyesight, and it was to a scene of chaos. Instead of thirty hostile
men, or at least she kept telling herself they were men, there were
only about five left, and their leader was caught up in a ferocious
battle with a fighter she didn't recognize. Taking the opportunity
where everyone was distracted Nicole searched frantically for her
parents and sisters.
Catching sight of her younger sister Mary she yelled, "over here!"
Sobbing, Mary ran over and Nicole gave her a tight hug and guided her
out to the hall. Just before they reached the door a warrior smashed
his fist against the entryway with a sneer, blocking their passage.
Without thinking Nicole slammed her knee into his groin and shoved
him back, grabbed Mary's arm and ran out.
"Stay here, okay?" she said urgently, trying to keep her voice from
trembling. "I'm gonna go find Mom and Dad."
Not waiting for Mary's reply Nicole stepped back inside the main
dining room, where she was shocked to find nothing remaining of the
hostile men. The room was unexpectedly dirty and there were a few out-
of-place piles of dust on the floor. The party crowd had formed into
a ring surrounding the two remaining combatants, Spike and a young
blonde girl. Nicole thought she looked vaguely familiar, but
dismissed it as she spotted her parents in the far corner of the
room. She hurried towards them.
"Mom, Dad, are you okay? I got Mary outside, she's hysterical."
"Watch," Frank murmured with amazement. Nicole turned to the two
warriors in the center of the room, fighting expertly with flawless
techniques. It was breathtaking and terrifying both at once. Their
moves were sharp, calculated, precise, and aimed to injure, yet both
of them seemed to be enjoying the fight immensely.
"Who are they?" Nicole breathed, but she got no response. She left
the room to bring in her sister reassuringly, and for about five
minutes everyone gazed at the battle, the room completely silent but
the muffled sounds of punches and kicks hitting leather.
Finally, as if reaching a mutually agreed upon signal, they stopped.
The blonde girl bent down, caught her breath. "I can take you down
now, you know," she stated.
Spike backed off wearily. "I know," he acknowledged.
"You gonna mess with my family again?" she warned with a tired grin.
Nicole gasped as he snarled harshly, and then his mask faded into a
normal looking face, also smiling. "I've been looking forward to this
event for the past seventy years. I honestly didn't think she'd make
it in time."
"Well," spoke up the redhead that had burst into the room only
moments before. Nicole's gaze swung to her. "My grandmother was never
that punctual either, but she always made it in the end."
The blonde also looked at the younger woman. "Do you still talk to
her?" she inquired hopefully.
The redhead grinned. "You don't need an Ouiji board to contact a dead
witch."
Spike actually laughed, and turned to his opponent. "God, I've missed
you."
"Really?" she raised an eyebrow.
"That chip was in my head so fucking long I got used to having you
around. But you know I wouldn't hesitate at the chance to kill you."
"And you know that if you try anything right now your ash will
scatter very prettily when I blow my candles."
He dipped his head. The whole room was still silent with shock, and
Nicole's nagging feeling that she knew the woman's face from
somewhere returned.
Spike retreated to the door and said, "I guess this is goodbye, then."
"No," the woman corrected him with a recognizable twinkle in her
eye. "Till next time."
It surprised Nicole that he threw once last look at her and
exclaimed, "bloody hell, Slayer, this is killing me! Could you just
fill me in on the details--"
"Two words, Spike," she cut him off with a smirk.
"Yeah, well, fuck you too, Buffy."
And he left, leaving the room staring at the not-so-strange-anymore
blonde girl, identical to the smiling portrait decorating the cake,
in stunned silence.
Slowly she turned in a circle, taking in all the shocked expressions
around her. Finally she made a face. "Stop it, you're creeping me
out. Steve, honey, how many times have I told you to stand up
straight? Don't gawk, Joan, you've seen me before." She continued
with a pained expression. "Grace, I've told you to never, ever, under
any circumstance wear pink! Won't you listen to me on my birthday at
least?"
"Mom?" Steve uttered.
With an amused smile, Buffy walked over and stood on her tiptoes to
gently place a kiss on his forehead. "Yeah, honey, it's me."
"You're beautiful, Grandma!" Frank blurted, and Nicole started at
seeing her father act like a little boy.
"Why, thank you, Frankie," Buffy said with an impish grin. "That's
very sweet."
He blushed. Nicole's great aunt Grace started to stammer. "Mom, what--
how can this--it can't--it can't really be true!"
"My stories?" Buffy sighed. "I should have kept my mouth shut, but at
my age you just want to be remembered for all the good things you've
done... or maybe I should have fed you with storied during your
childhood, so you'd be prepared." Despite being one of the smallest
sized persons in the room, her voice rang with clear
authority. "Either way, it's out now, so why don't you all sit down,
and let me tell you my story."
Uncertainly, guests began to sit down on whatever seat was available,
older people on the few sofas and the youngest on the floor. Buffy
watched them all with a slightly astonished look, radiating
pride. "There are just so many of you..." she trailed of helplessly,
and then laughed with joy. "I never would have imagined this when I
was young. Never in a million years. It's absolutely incredible.
Riley should have seen this!"
Her expression sobered somewhat. "Him. Your father, your grandfather,
your great-grandfather. You'd have liked him, Chris. He played great
ball."
Chris stared with astonishment. "You remember my name?"
Buffy chuckled. "I know everything about all of you. I listen when my
children give me news. It's just such an effort to talk, nowadays...
And not many people to talk to. You wouldn't believe how many
imaginary conversations I've held with my old friends. I talk to
Xander about Andrew's comic antique comic book collection and to
Willow about Kate's singing. I can tell Anya would have loved your
boyfriend, Jane, just from hearing your Dad complain about him. And
Giles... there's a little Giles in my head that keeps laughing every
time I see one my grandchildren ducking responsibility."
Some people lowered their heads. "No, no, it's not an accusation. God
knows you got it from me. Don't feel bad about laughing at crazy old
me behind my back either, I won't come back to haunt you after I'm
gone. I don't think I can. Can I?" She frowned at the redhead.
"Probably, yes, but my grandmother'd be pretty disappointed not to
see you."
"Well, I hope she's not just waiting around for me to die," Buffy
quipped. "From what I've seen tonight, I'm still useful around here."
"Where did you learn how to fight like that?" questioned Helen, wide
eyed.
"Here goes," Buffy said, and took a deep breath. "Most of you will
recognize bits of this from my so called ramblings. I admit it: I'm
getting senile, and I don't always control what comes out of my
mouth. Many years ago I was chosen to become a Slayer, the protector
of this world against the forces of darkness: demons, vampires, evil
spirits and the like. I was expected to die by the age of twenty, but
these genes you share are powerful stuff and I survived. When I
stopped being a Slayer the demons still chased after me and my best
friend Willow, who happened to be a witch, cast this spell to get
them off my back. There was a curse and a prophecy--I can't explain
it too well, as I barely understood myself--but it would leave me
vulnerable on my hundredth birthday. Which, as you all know, is
today. And Spike, who still doesn't look a day over twenty seven,
fuck him, tried to use the opportunity to get back at me for some
stuff."
"Stuff?" some distant relative whom Nicole didn't recognize asked.
"I tried to kill him."
"Well, that would explain it, then."
"Hey! It was fair. He tried to kill me too."
"Buffy," Willow's granddaughter said softly. "We're running out of
time."
Buffy nodded regretfully. "I feel like Cinderella. How long?"
"About ten, fifteen minutes."
"Okay," she muttered. "If you'd all please form into some sort of
line, by families maybe...?"
Slowly the crowd shifted as family members found each other and
waited for their turn to speak with this godlike woman who appeared
from the past. Nicole's family, being one of the youngest, waited in
the back. She watched tearful exchanges and desperate hugs, jokes and
laughter and whispered confessions. Julie, who had thought Riley was
handsome, now came back with a tight smile and choked out, "she
thinks I look like her mother."
And Chris, when he came back, proudly said that Buffy affirmed his
resemblance to Riley.
Who do I look like? thought Nicole. Amongst the many blondes in the
room her tall, dark form stuck out like... well, like a tall dark
form in a room full of blondes.
"Frankie," Buffy greeted Nicole's father with a smile. "I feel like I
should have a lollypop for you."
"I can't believe it's really you," said Frank.
Nicole's mother stood timidly off at the side, and Buffy beckoned to
her. "Margaret, I can't commend you enough. Taking care of three
teenagers and this rascal is probably more than I could handle."
"From what I've seen tonight, there isn't a lot you can't handle."
Buffy beamed and then glanced at Willow's granddaughter, who was
signaling her watch pointedly. With a sigh she advanced towards the
family members, giving each a hug and some whispered words. It was
understood that she was to remain alone in the room while the spell
took effect, and everyone moved to leave the room when she called
out, "Nicole."
Nicole stopped in her tracks, surprised. "Yeah?"
"Come here," she gestured.
Nicole's family went out the door while she came closer to her great-
grandmother.
"You really didn't think you'd get anything more personal than `you
look fantastic'?"
Nicole shook her head. "You don't know me that well, I wouldn't
expect--"
"I know you, Nicole." Buffy's eyes gleamed mysteriously. "I saw how
you took Mary out of the room and kicked that vamp's ass. It was very
impressive."
"Really?" Nicole asked, her throat tightening. It had scared her to
death, but she responded without thinking.
"It reminded me of myself," Buffy admitted.
Nicole took that as the highest compliment Buffy could have
offered. "It's amazing. We look like we're the same age."
"I know!" Buffy squealed. "It's so awesome!"
Nicole hesitated before deciding to take a plunge. "There's something
I wanted to ask you."
Buffy sobered. "I know. That's why I called you back in here."
"What did Spike mean when he said I'm `a female version of him'? I
don't look like anyone else in this family."
"That's because most of them resemble my side of the family." Buffy
took Nicole's hand, and spoke quietly, seriously. "There was a man I
knew when I was your age. I loved him more than life itself, but due
to circumstances beyond our control we could never be together. We
managed to stay away from each other, but after I married Riley, we
met one time, and..." Buffy trailed off. She didn't need to finish
the sentence. "His name was Angel."
"So that's why you always called me angel."
"Yes. That and you almost fell when you tried to climb the Archangel
Raphael statue in the garden when you were little."
Nicole giggled. "Really?"
"Oh, yes. It was quite a sight."
Nicole laughed, and then asked hesitantly, "Do I remind you of him?"
Buffy's eyes were sad, but proud. "When I saw you knee that sucker
tonight? More than you could ever know."
There was a knock on the door and the redheaded woman entered. "Your
time's up."
Nicole gave Buffy a last hug. "Goodbye."
Buffy laughter rang out cheerfully in the room. "I'm not dead yet."
She squeezed her tightly and then turned to her friend's
granddaughter. "I'm ready."
Nicole stepped out side the room and was greeted with curious
looks. "What did she say?" Chris asked.
"Basically," Nicole replied, the corner of her lips tugging up with
amusement, "that she was not, in fact, a boring little girl with a
boring childhood who watched too much TV."
--without so much as an affair, she added silently to herself.
"Amen to that," said Helen, and they all agreed.
***
Margaret Avery wasn't surprised at the excited chatted that filled
the car on the drive back to the airport. It was ironic, she figured,
that the same girls who had thought Sunnydale was the mother-ship of
boredom were now attempting to persuade their parents to move there
permanently. "Because you know, Mom, I heard the California air is
really good for your skin because of the proximity to the
ocean." "And Larry--" the Punk, Margaret couldn't help adding under
her breath--"always says he has friends in California that he wants
to reconnect with." The two older sisters were merely annoying her at
present, but Mary had apparently already decided on a career change,
this before starting a career. Out goes the worshipful veterinarian,
which was, Margaret reflected, to be expected--and in came science
fiction novelist. Mary was currently pestering all four other
inhabitants of the car on the many ways to kill a vampire. Of course,
after the extensive conversations they'd all had with Nana Buffy on
the subject, Margaret was surprised they didn't all have garlic
running out their pores.
All in all, she decided, the reunion didn't turn out half as bad as
she'd imagined. One might even say there were a few pleasant
surprises.
Margaret remembered her own family reunion pending in a month and
groaned.
Compared to this, it was hard to imagine how Grandpa Oz's seventieth
anniversary could be anything but dull.
***
The End! Hope you enjoyed it, tell me if you did. Happy Passover,
everybody, and for anyone having a Seder tonight, remember: you can
eat 5000 calories without noticing, so pay attention.
BTW, if anyone's interested: On How I Come Up With Names For Demons:
Being entirely unimaginative when it comes to naming fantasy demons,
countries, names and words, I usually take a word I know in Hebrew
that sounds bad in English and write it down. So here, roughly, is
what Willow's granddaughter says in the spell:
'A voice cried in the desertto all the land, and he is the big good
wort without day closed capes, lie graveyard he will lay down!
Yesterday at five stupid! He shall do right!'
Okay, it's dumb. It amuses me.
Sunnydale couldn't have been more than forty-five minutes, but for
Margaret Avery, loving mother of three teenage girls and professional
complainers, it seemed like ten hours. In addition to Nicole's "I
hate California! The air here is bad for my skin. Mom, tell Mary to
close the window!" and Mary's "Why couldn't we just send a card from
Chicago? We'll hardly know anyone there. And tell Nicole that the
rest of us actually need to breath!" she had to deal with Jane's
constant whining about the price she was paying for accompanying the
family on this trip: time away from her boyfriend. Frankly, Margaret
couldn't help feeling relieved at the short separation between her
eldest daughter and Larry the Punk, though she would no doubt feel
it's consequences when she got Jane's phone bill at the end of the
weekend.
And to top it off she had to deal with the eternal classic from all
three angels: "how long till we get there?"
As they pulled into the driveway of the large mansion Margaret
marveled at how Frank's grandmother managed to live there all alone,
with none of her five children--all grandparents by now--living
anywhere in the area, and barely even in the same state. It was only
one of the reasons Margaret thought her a bit cuckoo, to be polite.
What made the old lady stubbornly refuse to move to a nursing home
and closer to her children, and their children, and their children,
in fact? But no, she insisted on staying in that little town, an
invisible dot on the map of the United States, in a dreary old
mansion she inherited from a friend once upon a time. Besides that,
old Nana Buffy was strange in many ways. No one could argue with the
fact that at times her ramblings made no sense at all. Frank was
always patient when she ambled on about demons and ghouls and slayers
and whatnot, and she and the girls would listen half-heartedly and
put it a nod once in a while.
The whole reunion was a bit of a nuisance, really, but it meant a lot
to Frank, who met the full assembly of his large family on rare
occasions, seeing as he had sixteen cousins and each of them had
their own families scattered throughout the States. Nana's 100th
birthday was the perfect excuse for a family reunion, and Margaret
figured that the head count would amount to about seventy. She
herself wasn't a fan of these grandiose occasions, especially when
she hardly knew anyone there, but it was only one night and a trip to
California besides.
The mansion was decorated beautifully, she had to admit, and they
were greeted inside by Frank's brother Henry, who had organized the
whole event. After warm hugs and kisses he led them to a few rooms
upstairs.
"You came in straight from the airport? Take some time to rest up and
change, and come down at around five p.m... It's good to see you,
Frank... Is that you, Mary? My, how you've grown!"
Mary blushed and hid behind her mother. Yes, Margaret rolled her
eyes, now she remembers to be shy and timid.
Nana Buffy didn't come up to meet them. She was probably downstairs,
Margaret imagined--why make the long trip up and down the stairs more
times than necessary? She briefly considered going down to say hi but
dismissed the thought. She would see enough of Nana tonight, and she
doubted the old woman would even remember her. Besides, the girls
were calling for help with their dresses--the one benefit they had
gotten out of this weekend, though her credit card had suffered
terribly--and a mother's job was never done.
***
Nicole adjusted the skirt of her dress with a last look in the mirror
before heading downstairs. She was sick of Jane's voice in the
background on the cell with her boyfriend, reluctant to admit that
maybe she was slightly jealous of her sister. Jane was seventeen, and
although she herself was only one year younger, sometimes it seemed
to Nicole like she would never quite catch up.
She perked up as she caught a glance of a tall blond head, forgetting
her thoughts and considering there might be hope for tonight—and
immediately shuddered at the thought. Disgusting! The guy was
probably her cousin! His eyes turned to her and she blushed,
embarrassed at her thoughts. She straightened her back, forcing
herself to look cool, set her gloved hand on the wooden banister and
proceeded to drift down the stairs demurely. It was unbelievable what
a huge event they were making out of this, she mused. Nobody even
knew Nana Buffy, not really, she was barely coherent at the best of
days, and yet all these people were here to celebrate in her honor.
And the old woman probably didn't even recognize they were there.
Well, they were, and despite all her previous resistance, Nicole
discovered she did enjoy the luxurious benefits of the weekend, which
included staying at the ancient mansion--God knew how Nana had
purchased it or how much money she had--and the opportunity to wear a
fancy dress, most likely one she'd have to reuse at her prom because
her mother had spent an obscene amount of money on it. But this was a
black-tie event, and it was fun to dress up for once, even if it was
absurdly expensive. Not that the family's financial condition was bad
or anything, knock-on-wood, but this wasn't a movie premier either.
She was startled out of her thoughts by the tall blond cousin she saw
earlier.
"Nicole, right?"
... and he was good looking too. Damn.
"Yeah," she replied, with a puzzled frown. "Have we met?"
"The barbecue at Tom and Helen's, about seven years ago, remember?
New York City? I'm Chris."
"Chris!" It clicked into place. "Of course I remember you! You were
the kid in the pink trunks."
His face held a pained expression. "Don't remind me."
She chuckled. "Christmas present from mommy?"
"From your parents, actually."
She winced. "Sorry."
"It's cool." He smiled. "No childhood traumas."
"So, who's are you?" she asked, aware that this wasn't the politest
way to start a conversation but that it was the only way to keep
track.
He understood. "Nana Buffy's Laura's Michael's. From Michigan."
"Buffy's Grace's Frank's, Chicago."
He gave her an amused look. "This can't be normal, right?"
She returned his gaze with a giggle. "No way, it's too weird. How
many people here do you know?"
"About a two dozen, I guess, including you."
She snorted. "You beat me. I can name ten people in the room, tops."
"It's not so bad, though. Just think how useful a big family can be
when it comes to wedding presents."
"By the time I'm married," she sighed skeptically, "this family will
be scattered in so many states they won't bother to send cards.
Believe me, once Nana hits the dirt, no one will keep in touch."
"You're probably right," he agreed. "We hardly get together as it is.
Do you think Buffy's glad we're all here?"
"Her kids, maybe; the rest of us, I don't know. She's so cut off from
everybody. I'm pretty sure she won't know my name. I've only met her
four times."
"I've met her three. Poor woman," he said, in the low tone of one
gossiping in company. "She kept talking about demons the whole time I
was in the room. Completely wacko."
"Demons? I got angels. I guess that's better, but I was still pretty
uncomfortable."
"Why do you think she's like that?"
"My guess?" she said knowingly. "She was a very boring little girl
who had a very boring childhood and watched too much--what do you
call it?--TV, and now she's old and unstable and she thinks her
fantasy stories actually happened."
He burst out laughing. "I could see that happening. She looks the old-
fashioned type."
"Are you kidding? Those weird dresses she wears are so out dated,
early 30's at least."
"I'd hate to end up like that," he said seriously.
She raised an eyebrow. "Wearing dresses from the thirties?" That
earned her a chuckle, but then she got serious. "I know what you
mean. It's got to be so dull and lonely... fifty years alone, after
her husband died, without so much as a single affair, and suddenly
she's a hundred years old and losing her mind, with a couple of nasty
great-grandchildren laughing at her behind her back."
"Ouch," he grimaced. "We're horrible, aren't we?"
"The worst. Should we go say hi?"
"Well, yeah, now that I feel all guilty," he said accusingly.
As they made their way to the main ballroom, they were joined by a
few other teenagers. Needless to say, the long introductions were
getting tiresome.
"I'm Helen, Buffy's Joan's Ronnie's."
"Lila, Buffy's Steve's Jenny's."
"David, Buffy's Laura's Denise's."
"Julie, Buffy's Joan's Ellen's."
By the time they were done they had reached the ballroom and were
greeted with a scene out of a fairy tale.
"Oh. My. God." Were the only words that could come out of Nicole's
mouth.
"I second that," David added.
"Incredible," said Lila with awe.
The walls of the great room were lined with buffet tables featuring
food of every size and shape, delicately designed, a feast fit for
kings. While one table might be heaped with salads, the next would
have trays and trays of fish, the next meat, drinks, cookies, enough
to feed a country at least. But the main attraction stood in the
center of the room upon a low dais: A four-tiered iced cake designed
as a family tree, adorned with real photos, starting with Buffy and
her husband at the top, her five children fitted on the second layer,
her grandchildren on the third and all the great grandchildren making
up the base. The whole thing stood taller than a man.
"Ooh"ing and "ahh"ing, the group drew near the cake and inspected it
closely.
"I thought pictures in Nana's day were black and white!" Helen
exclaimed.
"My God, she was pretty!" Lila sighed.
"I would kill for hair like that." Julie stated. "Look at them! What
an adorable pair of blondes!"
Nicole stared at the old photo of her great grandmother who returned
back the look from the picture, a bright smile on her face, a twinkle
in her eyes, leaning back into the chest of her husband who was
grinning proudly. They were both blonds. Something didn't fit...
She frowned. "What was his name?"
"Riley," replied Chris. "My dad says I resemble him, what do you
think?"
"Yeah, kind of, I guess."
"What a lucky girl," Lila commented, indicating picture-Buffy.
"Why?" Nicole questioned.
The other girls stared at her and back at the couple in the
photo. "Did you see the guy? Tall, blond and handsome!"
"Looks like a gentleman, too," said Julie.
"Nah, I bet he swept her off her feet!" giggled Helen.
"Really?" Nicole wondered. "Doesn't strike me as a sweeper." She
leaned closer to study Riley. He was good looking, she admitted, in
an old-fashioned all-American way. Broad chest, strong arms, a
stable, honest, cheerful face. She must have imagined something was
wrong. Figures he'd be the guy that a simple, normal girl like Buffy
would fall for.
"No, you're right," she admitted. "They seem to fit together
perfectly. Lucky girl..." she trailed off.
With a last look at the cake they stepped though the entrance of a
great hall. The stony floor and walls were cold but the room radiated
a sort of heat. On the deep couch in front of the fireplace sat
Buffy.
Nicole's heart pinched as she thought of the sunny young woman from
the picture compared to the hunched white-haired figure that sank in
the deep cushions. She watched Nana meekly address her cousins, who
each left with a different expression on their faces, mostly of pity.
She was the last to greet her.
"Hi, Nana."
"What?" Buffy said in a daze. She looked up at her son who stood over
her protectively. "What did she say?"
Steve looked at Nicole. "You have to speak louder or she won't hear
you well."
"Hi Nana, it's Nicole," she tried again.
Buffy blinked. "Nicole? You look different... I remember when you
were a little girl you had light hair."
"Well, it grew dark," Nicole said, surprised that she'd remembered
her at all.
"No, no, it's not that simple...not good... Come here," she
commanded. Nicole obediently leaned in. Nana peered at her closely
and her eyes softened. "More and more like..." She looked frightened.
Nicole lifted her gaze up to Steve with worry. "Is she okay?"
"She's probably just getting tired, that's all. Rest, Mom, Nicole
will get you a drink."
"No--" Buffy's tone was surprisingly sharp. "Too much... you're an
angel Nicole, an angel, of an angel... We need to protect the family
from the demons."
Steve rolled his eyes. "Just ignore her, Nicole, she's been this way
all night. She wasn't thrilled about this whole party."
"Thrilled!" Buffy snorted derisively. "It's dangerous! You have to
find Willow's girl!"
"Who's Willow's girl?" Nicole inquired.
"Nobody, she's been talking about her since yesterday."
"I'm not that daft!" Buffy protested weakly. "Willow's girl has to be
here because they're coming..."
"Who?" Nicole said with a tinge of excitement.
Buffy slowly raised her fist to clench a cross medallion hanging from
a chain around her neck. "The vampires..."
Nicole's interest evaporated, and she was filled with pity for the
miserable old lady who was lost in her own nightmares. Fantasies. "It
was nice seeing you, Nana," she said helplessly and hurried away.
When she rejoined her group of friends they were talking about
Nana. "Why do I feel like I've just met the Pope?" mused David.
"Because, like the Pope, she's an old unintelligible person who
preaches about the apocalypse," replied Chris.
"She really freaked out when she saw my hair was dark," said Nicole.
"And she kept mentioning this girl and a tree..." Julie put in.
"Right! Willow's girl," Nicole explained knowingly. "To help fight
the vampires."
They all laughed, and Chris started saying, "suppose it's all true.
Suppose goblins exist and Hellmouths open and close and vampires are
real. Explain to me why any self respecting vampire would crash a
little old lady's birthday par--"
He was cut short by an enormous bang as the two doors to the room
swung aside. "Hello, everybody!" came a cheerful voice in a cockney
accent. "Hope I'm not too late!"
The teens look around and at each other, wide-eyed. "Who's that?"
whispered Helen. No one knew.
"I'm sorry," Nicole's father said politely, "are you sure you're in
the right place?"
The stranger had bleached hair and a long brown duster. He looked
around and surveyed the faces in front of them. "Pretty sure, yeah.
Too many blond heads here for you not to be Fish Boy's brats."
"I'm sorry?" Frank said indignantly.
"You heard me, Finn. It is Finn, right?" Frank was about to reply
when the stranger interrupted him. "Never could stand the name, or,
matter of fact, the man. So where is the guest of honor?" Frank
looked confused, as did most of the people in the room. "Buffy, you
dolts, the founder of your clan, the head of the tribe, the big mama,
where is she?"
Frank seemed to have lost control over the situation. Everybody
looked at the other guy. "Oh, come on! You're not going to tell me?"
He laughed incredulously. He raised two fingers to his mouth and blew
a long sharp whistle. In marched aggressively thirty or so grown men
who looked eager for battle. The stranger leaned menacingly towards
Frank. "Tell me where she is."
Bravely, Frank said, "I think you'd better leave before I call he
cops."
"Oh, for heaven sake!" The man rolled his eyes with exasperation. He
snapped his fingers. "Show them."
As one, the thirty men's faces transformed into gruesomely twisted
overhanging foreheads, and they bared fanged teeth. The crowd started
screaming. Nicole's heart caught in her throat. Impossible.
Beside her, Lila was squeezing her hand so hard she almost cut off
the circulation. Chris's face was chalk white, and Helen and David
were clinging to the wall. Julie had run off.
The whole group was in absolute panic when a loud voice rang across
the room and shocked them all into silence. "Spike." Buffy's voice
was rusty and hoarse but it vibrated with determination.
"Slayer!" He shouted happily. "Long time no see!"
She looked at him unwaveringly, and then said plainly: "Fuck you."
"That's no way to greet an old friend!" he protested.
"You look so... exactly... the same."
"Actually, I go with black hair nowadays. I only bleached to make you
feel old. Did it work?" he asked with a self satisfied smirk.
"Fuck you," she grumbled again.
"Oh, Slayer," he said disappointedly. "Don't make it easy for me to
make jokes about your being senile! It's hard enough trying not to
mention your height. Amazing how much you've shrunk."
"Can I say `Fuck you' enough times?"
"While I enjoy your witty conversation as ever, we both know why I'm
here."
Buffy sank against the doorframe to support her. In a feeble voice
she spit, "Bastard."
He chuckled. "You're very unimaginative today, Buffy, I must say I'm
disappointed." He strolled around the room slowly, taking in all the
faces, muttering to himself occasionally. "Slight resemblance...
Farmer Boy's chin, perhaps... definitely the right build... and here,
here," he eyed Frank with interest. Nicole's heart skipped a beat.
Spike circled her father like a vulture. "No resemblance at all, to
either one of them, but I can smell his blood..." he licked his lips.
"Don't touch him!" Nicole burst. Everyone froze and turned to look at
her, and Spike let out a chortle of surprise.
"Well, well, if it isn't genetics in action!" He exclaimed, and
turned to Buffy with an appreciating glance. Oddly, it looked almost
as if she had a pleading expression on her face. Spike kept
going. "She's a female version of him!" The smile he directed at her
was very secretive. "I always knew it had to happen, always wondered…
did it happen more than once? Was it a spur of the moment thing, or
did it build up? Was it your first child, or your fourth or fifth? I
could spend hours now, catching up."
Nicole was terrified. Spike was standing almost on top of her,
staring into her face. "Absolutely unbelievable... And nobody's ever
noticed? A black haired brat in the midst of this Aryan
tribe? ...unbelievable..." A cruel spark lit his eyes. "I'll be sure
to tell him that I killed her." Nicole was rooted to her spot in
terror and couldn't budge. He turned back to her and patted her
cheek. "Don't worry, angel. As a special favor to your great-
grandfather, I'll kill you last."
"Vator!" Cried a strong feminine voice from the entrance of the
building. A panting girl ran into the room, intoning in as steady a
voice as she could manage. "Kol koreh bamidbar lechol ha'aretz, ve hu
hagadol mila tova bli yom sagur glimot, sheker almin ke yaniach etom
velo vyrbie kalow! Etmol bachamsh tipesh! Yashar yea'se!"
A flash of white light blinded everybody's eyes, and the partygoers
screamed in panic. It was a full minute before Nicole regained her
eyesight, and it was to a scene of chaos. Instead of thirty hostile
men, or at least she kept telling herself they were men, there were
only about five left, and their leader was caught up in a ferocious
battle with a fighter she didn't recognize. Taking the opportunity
where everyone was distracted Nicole searched frantically for her
parents and sisters.
Catching sight of her younger sister Mary she yelled, "over here!"
Sobbing, Mary ran over and Nicole gave her a tight hug and guided her
out to the hall. Just before they reached the door a warrior smashed
his fist against the entryway with a sneer, blocking their passage.
Without thinking Nicole slammed her knee into his groin and shoved
him back, grabbed Mary's arm and ran out.
"Stay here, okay?" she said urgently, trying to keep her voice from
trembling. "I'm gonna go find Mom and Dad."
Not waiting for Mary's reply Nicole stepped back inside the main
dining room, where she was shocked to find nothing remaining of the
hostile men. The room was unexpectedly dirty and there were a few out-
of-place piles of dust on the floor. The party crowd had formed into
a ring surrounding the two remaining combatants, Spike and a young
blonde girl. Nicole thought she looked vaguely familiar, but
dismissed it as she spotted her parents in the far corner of the
room. She hurried towards them.
"Mom, Dad, are you okay? I got Mary outside, she's hysterical."
"Watch," Frank murmured with amazement. Nicole turned to the two
warriors in the center of the room, fighting expertly with flawless
techniques. It was breathtaking and terrifying both at once. Their
moves were sharp, calculated, precise, and aimed to injure, yet both
of them seemed to be enjoying the fight immensely.
"Who are they?" Nicole breathed, but she got no response. She left
the room to bring in her sister reassuringly, and for about five
minutes everyone gazed at the battle, the room completely silent but
the muffled sounds of punches and kicks hitting leather.
Finally, as if reaching a mutually agreed upon signal, they stopped.
The blonde girl bent down, caught her breath. "I can take you down
now, you know," she stated.
Spike backed off wearily. "I know," he acknowledged.
"You gonna mess with my family again?" she warned with a tired grin.
Nicole gasped as he snarled harshly, and then his mask faded into a
normal looking face, also smiling. "I've been looking forward to this
event for the past seventy years. I honestly didn't think she'd make
it in time."
"Well," spoke up the redhead that had burst into the room only
moments before. Nicole's gaze swung to her. "My grandmother was never
that punctual either, but she always made it in the end."
The blonde also looked at the younger woman. "Do you still talk to
her?" she inquired hopefully.
The redhead grinned. "You don't need an Ouiji board to contact a dead
witch."
Spike actually laughed, and turned to his opponent. "God, I've missed
you."
"Really?" she raised an eyebrow.
"That chip was in my head so fucking long I got used to having you
around. But you know I wouldn't hesitate at the chance to kill you."
"And you know that if you try anything right now your ash will
scatter very prettily when I blow my candles."
He dipped his head. The whole room was still silent with shock, and
Nicole's nagging feeling that she knew the woman's face from
somewhere returned.
Spike retreated to the door and said, "I guess this is goodbye, then."
"No," the woman corrected him with a recognizable twinkle in her
eye. "Till next time."
It surprised Nicole that he threw once last look at her and
exclaimed, "bloody hell, Slayer, this is killing me! Could you just
fill me in on the details--"
"Two words, Spike," she cut him off with a smirk.
"Yeah, well, fuck you too, Buffy."
And he left, leaving the room staring at the not-so-strange-anymore
blonde girl, identical to the smiling portrait decorating the cake,
in stunned silence.
Slowly she turned in a circle, taking in all the shocked expressions
around her. Finally she made a face. "Stop it, you're creeping me
out. Steve, honey, how many times have I told you to stand up
straight? Don't gawk, Joan, you've seen me before." She continued
with a pained expression. "Grace, I've told you to never, ever, under
any circumstance wear pink! Won't you listen to me on my birthday at
least?"
"Mom?" Steve uttered.
With an amused smile, Buffy walked over and stood on her tiptoes to
gently place a kiss on his forehead. "Yeah, honey, it's me."
"You're beautiful, Grandma!" Frank blurted, and Nicole started at
seeing her father act like a little boy.
"Why, thank you, Frankie," Buffy said with an impish grin. "That's
very sweet."
He blushed. Nicole's great aunt Grace started to stammer. "Mom, what--
how can this--it can't--it can't really be true!"
"My stories?" Buffy sighed. "I should have kept my mouth shut, but at
my age you just want to be remembered for all the good things you've
done... or maybe I should have fed you with storied during your
childhood, so you'd be prepared." Despite being one of the smallest
sized persons in the room, her voice rang with clear
authority. "Either way, it's out now, so why don't you all sit down,
and let me tell you my story."
Uncertainly, guests began to sit down on whatever seat was available,
older people on the few sofas and the youngest on the floor. Buffy
watched them all with a slightly astonished look, radiating
pride. "There are just so many of you..." she trailed of helplessly,
and then laughed with joy. "I never would have imagined this when I
was young. Never in a million years. It's absolutely incredible.
Riley should have seen this!"
Her expression sobered somewhat. "Him. Your father, your grandfather,
your great-grandfather. You'd have liked him, Chris. He played great
ball."
Chris stared with astonishment. "You remember my name?"
Buffy chuckled. "I know everything about all of you. I listen when my
children give me news. It's just such an effort to talk, nowadays...
And not many people to talk to. You wouldn't believe how many
imaginary conversations I've held with my old friends. I talk to
Xander about Andrew's comic antique comic book collection and to
Willow about Kate's singing. I can tell Anya would have loved your
boyfriend, Jane, just from hearing your Dad complain about him. And
Giles... there's a little Giles in my head that keeps laughing every
time I see one my grandchildren ducking responsibility."
Some people lowered their heads. "No, no, it's not an accusation. God
knows you got it from me. Don't feel bad about laughing at crazy old
me behind my back either, I won't come back to haunt you after I'm
gone. I don't think I can. Can I?" She frowned at the redhead.
"Probably, yes, but my grandmother'd be pretty disappointed not to
see you."
"Well, I hope she's not just waiting around for me to die," Buffy
quipped. "From what I've seen tonight, I'm still useful around here."
"Where did you learn how to fight like that?" questioned Helen, wide
eyed.
"Here goes," Buffy said, and took a deep breath. "Most of you will
recognize bits of this from my so called ramblings. I admit it: I'm
getting senile, and I don't always control what comes out of my
mouth. Many years ago I was chosen to become a Slayer, the protector
of this world against the forces of darkness: demons, vampires, evil
spirits and the like. I was expected to die by the age of twenty, but
these genes you share are powerful stuff and I survived. When I
stopped being a Slayer the demons still chased after me and my best
friend Willow, who happened to be a witch, cast this spell to get
them off my back. There was a curse and a prophecy--I can't explain
it too well, as I barely understood myself--but it would leave me
vulnerable on my hundredth birthday. Which, as you all know, is
today. And Spike, who still doesn't look a day over twenty seven,
fuck him, tried to use the opportunity to get back at me for some
stuff."
"Stuff?" some distant relative whom Nicole didn't recognize asked.
"I tried to kill him."
"Well, that would explain it, then."
"Hey! It was fair. He tried to kill me too."
"Buffy," Willow's granddaughter said softly. "We're running out of
time."
Buffy nodded regretfully. "I feel like Cinderella. How long?"
"About ten, fifteen minutes."
"Okay," she muttered. "If you'd all please form into some sort of
line, by families maybe...?"
Slowly the crowd shifted as family members found each other and
waited for their turn to speak with this godlike woman who appeared
from the past. Nicole's family, being one of the youngest, waited in
the back. She watched tearful exchanges and desperate hugs, jokes and
laughter and whispered confessions. Julie, who had thought Riley was
handsome, now came back with a tight smile and choked out, "she
thinks I look like her mother."
And Chris, when he came back, proudly said that Buffy affirmed his
resemblance to Riley.
Who do I look like? thought Nicole. Amongst the many blondes in the
room her tall, dark form stuck out like... well, like a tall dark
form in a room full of blondes.
"Frankie," Buffy greeted Nicole's father with a smile. "I feel like I
should have a lollypop for you."
"I can't believe it's really you," said Frank.
Nicole's mother stood timidly off at the side, and Buffy beckoned to
her. "Margaret, I can't commend you enough. Taking care of three
teenagers and this rascal is probably more than I could handle."
"From what I've seen tonight, there isn't a lot you can't handle."
Buffy beamed and then glanced at Willow's granddaughter, who was
signaling her watch pointedly. With a sigh she advanced towards the
family members, giving each a hug and some whispered words. It was
understood that she was to remain alone in the room while the spell
took effect, and everyone moved to leave the room when she called
out, "Nicole."
Nicole stopped in her tracks, surprised. "Yeah?"
"Come here," she gestured.
Nicole's family went out the door while she came closer to her great-
grandmother.
"You really didn't think you'd get anything more personal than `you
look fantastic'?"
Nicole shook her head. "You don't know me that well, I wouldn't
expect--"
"I know you, Nicole." Buffy's eyes gleamed mysteriously. "I saw how
you took Mary out of the room and kicked that vamp's ass. It was very
impressive."
"Really?" Nicole asked, her throat tightening. It had scared her to
death, but she responded without thinking.
"It reminded me of myself," Buffy admitted.
Nicole took that as the highest compliment Buffy could have
offered. "It's amazing. We look like we're the same age."
"I know!" Buffy squealed. "It's so awesome!"
Nicole hesitated before deciding to take a plunge. "There's something
I wanted to ask you."
Buffy sobered. "I know. That's why I called you back in here."
"What did Spike mean when he said I'm `a female version of him'? I
don't look like anyone else in this family."
"That's because most of them resemble my side of the family." Buffy
took Nicole's hand, and spoke quietly, seriously. "There was a man I
knew when I was your age. I loved him more than life itself, but due
to circumstances beyond our control we could never be together. We
managed to stay away from each other, but after I married Riley, we
met one time, and..." Buffy trailed off. She didn't need to finish
the sentence. "His name was Angel."
"So that's why you always called me angel."
"Yes. That and you almost fell when you tried to climb the Archangel
Raphael statue in the garden when you were little."
Nicole giggled. "Really?"
"Oh, yes. It was quite a sight."
Nicole laughed, and then asked hesitantly, "Do I remind you of him?"
Buffy's eyes were sad, but proud. "When I saw you knee that sucker
tonight? More than you could ever know."
There was a knock on the door and the redheaded woman entered. "Your
time's up."
Nicole gave Buffy a last hug. "Goodbye."
Buffy laughter rang out cheerfully in the room. "I'm not dead yet."
She squeezed her tightly and then turned to her friend's
granddaughter. "I'm ready."
Nicole stepped out side the room and was greeted with curious
looks. "What did she say?" Chris asked.
"Basically," Nicole replied, the corner of her lips tugging up with
amusement, "that she was not, in fact, a boring little girl with a
boring childhood who watched too much TV."
--without so much as an affair, she added silently to herself.
"Amen to that," said Helen, and they all agreed.
***
Margaret Avery wasn't surprised at the excited chatted that filled
the car on the drive back to the airport. It was ironic, she figured,
that the same girls who had thought Sunnydale was the mother-ship of
boredom were now attempting to persuade their parents to move there
permanently. "Because you know, Mom, I heard the California air is
really good for your skin because of the proximity to the
ocean." "And Larry--" the Punk, Margaret couldn't help adding under
her breath--"always says he has friends in California that he wants
to reconnect with." The two older sisters were merely annoying her at
present, but Mary had apparently already decided on a career change,
this before starting a career. Out goes the worshipful veterinarian,
which was, Margaret reflected, to be expected--and in came science
fiction novelist. Mary was currently pestering all four other
inhabitants of the car on the many ways to kill a vampire. Of course,
after the extensive conversations they'd all had with Nana Buffy on
the subject, Margaret was surprised they didn't all have garlic
running out their pores.
All in all, she decided, the reunion didn't turn out half as bad as
she'd imagined. One might even say there were a few pleasant
surprises.
Margaret remembered her own family reunion pending in a month and
groaned.
Compared to this, it was hard to imagine how Grandpa Oz's seventieth
anniversary could be anything but dull.
***
The End! Hope you enjoyed it, tell me if you did. Happy Passover,
everybody, and for anyone having a Seder tonight, remember: you can
eat 5000 calories without noticing, so pay attention.
BTW, if anyone's interested: On How I Come Up With Names For Demons:
Being entirely unimaginative when it comes to naming fantasy demons,
countries, names and words, I usually take a word I know in Hebrew
that sounds bad in English and write it down. So here, roughly, is
what Willow's granddaughter says in the spell:
'A voice cried in the desertto all the land, and he is the big good
wort without day closed capes, lie graveyard he will lay down!
Yesterday at five stupid! He shall do right!'
Okay, it's dumb. It amuses me.