White Rabbit
A/N: A new plotbunny bit me on the butt this evening, and I'm disappearing for a week into another country, so it needed writing out. I know Baby Steps and Skylar need updates, but I like this idea and shall probably continue. Let me know what you think .
Genna Hannah Calloway was by no means a normal little girl and she knew it. Her mommy staked vampires, her daddy was a vampire and she hated peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. In fact, Genna Hannah Angel hated her foods touching. It was, Mommy said a lot, her 'thing', which Genna didn't think was that bad a thing. Genna knew she was special and there were several indicators of that. One was her friendship band with beads that looked like a piece of DNA with much squishing, according to her Aunt Fred. Another was that Genna had braids done by Daddy every morning and not all daddies could do braids. And thirdly, Genna's real name was Genesis for beginnings because Genna was extra special as she wasn't sposed to exist. They all seemed like pretty good reasons that Genna was very very special.
"All done, Gen," Spike snapped the elastic around the end of Genna's silky brown plait and grazed her cheek with his knuckles, the corners of his mouth turning up when his daughter grinned up at him. A lopsided smile curved her lips and a dimple deepened in her left cheek. Genna looked sweet and innocent but devilry glinted in her bright blue eyes, his eyes beneath Faith's sooty lashes.
"Can I play weapons today, Daddy?" Genna scrunched up her nose, screwed up her eyes and gave Daddy her extra widest smile in her 'please' face. "Weapons are fun," she said, examining her right sock. She frowned. "Daddy, my sock is down," she instructed him, pointing. Obediently, Spike hitched the sock back up to the proper place, around Genna's ankle. It was a bright pink sock, because Genna loved bright pink and also because it was a Tuesday and Genna loved Tuesdays because Tuesdays were weapons days with Uncle Wanker. Therefore Tuesdays were pink sock days, infinitely better than Wednesdays, which were common purple. Purple, in Genna's opinion, didn't even count.
"Maybe, Genomylove," Spike grinned at his daughter's look of disgust at the indefinite answer. "Possibly," he allowed, tickling her left foot, the one without the sneaker yet. Genna wiggled, giggling, but held up one hand imperiously.
"Maybe is not an answer, Daddy," she informed him, folding her arms across her small chest and fixing him with the best imitation of his 'no more ice- cream' look. "And I am Miss Genna," she added proudly. Spike cocked his head on one side, and looked hard at the small girl seated on the chair.
"Oh really?" he asked, amusement creeping into his voice. He reached out and grabbed her left foot, pulling off the pink sock. Genna squirmed, shouting with laughter as he pretended to eat her foot, tickling it.
"What's going on?" Faith yawned sleepily, smiling at her husband and daughter from the doorway. Spike picked Genna up upside down by the ankles, and carried her over.
"I discovered a new demon," he told Faith seriously, laughter glinting in his eyes. "It's called-"
"Bloody sodding wanker!" Genna yelled, furious, her face turning red. "Daddy, put me DOWN!" When Genna Calloway was mad, demons feared her, and Genna didn't like being upside down.
"Sounds impressive," Faith remarked, one eyebrow arching at Spike for the language. "How do you kill it?"
"You bash it," Genna said, with a hint of her mother's nonchalance within the indignant response; still hanging upside down from her father's firm grip on her ankles. "Bash him, Mommy."
Faith grinned at Spike, scooping the little girl into her arms. "Maybe I will." Spike's lips twitched as he tried to keep a straight face.
"Do you think she can play weapons with the wanker?" he asked off-handedly, picking Genna's sneaker off the floor and handing it to Faith. She kissed the top of Genna's head, and slipped the sneaker onto Gen's foot.
"Angel, Spike," she reminded, with a reproving look over the top of the little girl's head. He attempted to look apologetic, but grinned at his daughter proudly.
"I guess so," Faith said thoughtfully, her eyes betraying the mirth she was struggling to contain. "You can play." She let Genna slide to the floor.
"Yes!" Genna punched the air with a loud, joyful yell, running towards her room. "Bloody hell, Uncle Wanker, we get to play!"
Faith and Spike winced. "Not so loud," they called in unison after their disappearing daughter.
"What are you doing, my Lizzie-Beth?" Wes asked, his voice gentle. The little girl looked up, startled.
"I was compiling records," she answered seriously, pushing a piece of reddish hair out of her eyes, twirling the high desk chair around to face him as she sat cross-legged. The piles of dusty leather-bound books stacked around her were taller than she was. Elizabeth could often be found within such book-nests. She closed the book in front of her and laid it neatly in her lap. "I was cross referencing fairy tales and the Assyrian demonology," she added, without batting an eyelash. Goldilocks and the Three Bears and other stories could now clearly be seen printed on the front of the book in her lap. "There are common reference points," she said gravely. Wesley's lips twitched, but he tried to hide the laughter, giving her an approving smile. His Elizabeth was old beyond her years, already adept at handling old languages, cross referencing books, and of course, magic.
She watched his face with her big dark eyes, her red hair loose around her pale face.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," she said politely, placing the book on the desk with a wistful look towards it, as if she wanted to continue with her self-set task. "It was interesting."
"Oh my Beth," Wes laughed softly, plucking her out of the big chair, and holding her close tightly, nestling his chin in the soft baby hair and breathing in her unique Elizabeth-smell. "Don't ever grow up." She pulled back in his arms, a faint look of surprise crossing her delicate features.
"Daddy, everyone has to grow up," she said reproachfully. She cocked her head on one side, thinking it over. "Of course, in the Thentomolgical cultures, age is irrelevant." Wes grinned affectionately, and ruffled the top of her hair.
"Has Leigh put on the kettle, love?" he asked with a low chuckle as he let her slide to the floor. Elizabeth nodded, clambering back into the chair.
"Yes, Daddy. She's in the kitchen," she answered absently, opening the book once more.
The au-pair smiled at him as he came through the kitchen entrance, and handed him a mug of tea. "Seen her this morning?' she asked, her light Southern accent coloured with disbelief. "She was up early." Wes smiled in answer, and sipped the steaming tea, savouring it.
"She's a Watcher in the making," Leigh added, looking past him to where Elizabeth was smartly telling her puppy, Jameson not to chew the carpets or 'you'll be sent away for your own good'. Wesley frowned, a dark look settling over his face. Hurriedly, Leigh turned away, busying herself with a corner of the sink.
"School soon," she changed the topic, glancing back at Lizzie. Wesley nodded.
"Yes. I imagine she'll love it," he said, warmth filling his voice. "But she'll race through anything a teacher will give her. She was three when she started reading those texts," he looked back at her, trying unsuccessfully to stop Jameson tugging at the sofa cushions.
"Heya, sweetie," the door banged, and Elizabeth launched herself into Cordelia's arms, looking less like a college professor and more like a little girl.
"Cordy," she yelled, flinging her arms around the dark-haired Seer's neck. Cordelia hugged her, and grinned. "I know where I'm welcome," she said smugly to Wesley, as he walked over.
"What's the matter?" he asked mildly, blowing on his tea. She grimaced, pulling a funny face at Elizabeth.
"The telepaths have gone ker-plooey," she answered, shifting Elizabeth so she sat across her hip. "You're kinda needed. They're speaking a weird language, which Angel assures me is one of the ones you know, only it's uber old and of the wacky."
"Might I be of some service?" Elizabeth asked courteously, the serious look settling on her face as Cordelia set her on the ground. "I am well versed in some of the more diverse old languages."
"My daughter, Oxford class of eighteen," Wesley laughed, running a hand through her long, gleaming hair. "All right, Beth-child." Elizabeth smiled, pleased. There was magic where Daddy worked, and magic, Elizabeth knew from her vast years of experience, meant fun.
A/N: Who Genna and Elizabeth are, how they relate to one another, and the main gist of the story has yet to be explained. Questions, comments, please review!!
2nd A/N: I actually wrote this a week ago, before going to Turkey, and didn't post. So please review! I'm starved of reviews.
A/N: A new plotbunny bit me on the butt this evening, and I'm disappearing for a week into another country, so it needed writing out. I know Baby Steps and Skylar need updates, but I like this idea and shall probably continue. Let me know what you think .
Genna Hannah Calloway was by no means a normal little girl and she knew it. Her mommy staked vampires, her daddy was a vampire and she hated peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. In fact, Genna Hannah Angel hated her foods touching. It was, Mommy said a lot, her 'thing', which Genna didn't think was that bad a thing. Genna knew she was special and there were several indicators of that. One was her friendship band with beads that looked like a piece of DNA with much squishing, according to her Aunt Fred. Another was that Genna had braids done by Daddy every morning and not all daddies could do braids. And thirdly, Genna's real name was Genesis for beginnings because Genna was extra special as she wasn't sposed to exist. They all seemed like pretty good reasons that Genna was very very special.
"All done, Gen," Spike snapped the elastic around the end of Genna's silky brown plait and grazed her cheek with his knuckles, the corners of his mouth turning up when his daughter grinned up at him. A lopsided smile curved her lips and a dimple deepened in her left cheek. Genna looked sweet and innocent but devilry glinted in her bright blue eyes, his eyes beneath Faith's sooty lashes.
"Can I play weapons today, Daddy?" Genna scrunched up her nose, screwed up her eyes and gave Daddy her extra widest smile in her 'please' face. "Weapons are fun," she said, examining her right sock. She frowned. "Daddy, my sock is down," she instructed him, pointing. Obediently, Spike hitched the sock back up to the proper place, around Genna's ankle. It was a bright pink sock, because Genna loved bright pink and also because it was a Tuesday and Genna loved Tuesdays because Tuesdays were weapons days with Uncle Wanker. Therefore Tuesdays were pink sock days, infinitely better than Wednesdays, which were common purple. Purple, in Genna's opinion, didn't even count.
"Maybe, Genomylove," Spike grinned at his daughter's look of disgust at the indefinite answer. "Possibly," he allowed, tickling her left foot, the one without the sneaker yet. Genna wiggled, giggling, but held up one hand imperiously.
"Maybe is not an answer, Daddy," she informed him, folding her arms across her small chest and fixing him with the best imitation of his 'no more ice- cream' look. "And I am Miss Genna," she added proudly. Spike cocked his head on one side, and looked hard at the small girl seated on the chair.
"Oh really?" he asked, amusement creeping into his voice. He reached out and grabbed her left foot, pulling off the pink sock. Genna squirmed, shouting with laughter as he pretended to eat her foot, tickling it.
"What's going on?" Faith yawned sleepily, smiling at her husband and daughter from the doorway. Spike picked Genna up upside down by the ankles, and carried her over.
"I discovered a new demon," he told Faith seriously, laughter glinting in his eyes. "It's called-"
"Bloody sodding wanker!" Genna yelled, furious, her face turning red. "Daddy, put me DOWN!" When Genna Calloway was mad, demons feared her, and Genna didn't like being upside down.
"Sounds impressive," Faith remarked, one eyebrow arching at Spike for the language. "How do you kill it?"
"You bash it," Genna said, with a hint of her mother's nonchalance within the indignant response; still hanging upside down from her father's firm grip on her ankles. "Bash him, Mommy."
Faith grinned at Spike, scooping the little girl into her arms. "Maybe I will." Spike's lips twitched as he tried to keep a straight face.
"Do you think she can play weapons with the wanker?" he asked off-handedly, picking Genna's sneaker off the floor and handing it to Faith. She kissed the top of Genna's head, and slipped the sneaker onto Gen's foot.
"Angel, Spike," she reminded, with a reproving look over the top of the little girl's head. He attempted to look apologetic, but grinned at his daughter proudly.
"I guess so," Faith said thoughtfully, her eyes betraying the mirth she was struggling to contain. "You can play." She let Genna slide to the floor.
"Yes!" Genna punched the air with a loud, joyful yell, running towards her room. "Bloody hell, Uncle Wanker, we get to play!"
Faith and Spike winced. "Not so loud," they called in unison after their disappearing daughter.
"What are you doing, my Lizzie-Beth?" Wes asked, his voice gentle. The little girl looked up, startled.
"I was compiling records," she answered seriously, pushing a piece of reddish hair out of her eyes, twirling the high desk chair around to face him as she sat cross-legged. The piles of dusty leather-bound books stacked around her were taller than she was. Elizabeth could often be found within such book-nests. She closed the book in front of her and laid it neatly in her lap. "I was cross referencing fairy tales and the Assyrian demonology," she added, without batting an eyelash. Goldilocks and the Three Bears and other stories could now clearly be seen printed on the front of the book in her lap. "There are common reference points," she said gravely. Wesley's lips twitched, but he tried to hide the laughter, giving her an approving smile. His Elizabeth was old beyond her years, already adept at handling old languages, cross referencing books, and of course, magic.
She watched his face with her big dark eyes, her red hair loose around her pale face.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," she said politely, placing the book on the desk with a wistful look towards it, as if she wanted to continue with her self-set task. "It was interesting."
"Oh my Beth," Wes laughed softly, plucking her out of the big chair, and holding her close tightly, nestling his chin in the soft baby hair and breathing in her unique Elizabeth-smell. "Don't ever grow up." She pulled back in his arms, a faint look of surprise crossing her delicate features.
"Daddy, everyone has to grow up," she said reproachfully. She cocked her head on one side, thinking it over. "Of course, in the Thentomolgical cultures, age is irrelevant." Wes grinned affectionately, and ruffled the top of her hair.
"Has Leigh put on the kettle, love?" he asked with a low chuckle as he let her slide to the floor. Elizabeth nodded, clambering back into the chair.
"Yes, Daddy. She's in the kitchen," she answered absently, opening the book once more.
The au-pair smiled at him as he came through the kitchen entrance, and handed him a mug of tea. "Seen her this morning?' she asked, her light Southern accent coloured with disbelief. "She was up early." Wes smiled in answer, and sipped the steaming tea, savouring it.
"She's a Watcher in the making," Leigh added, looking past him to where Elizabeth was smartly telling her puppy, Jameson not to chew the carpets or 'you'll be sent away for your own good'. Wesley frowned, a dark look settling over his face. Hurriedly, Leigh turned away, busying herself with a corner of the sink.
"School soon," she changed the topic, glancing back at Lizzie. Wesley nodded.
"Yes. I imagine she'll love it," he said, warmth filling his voice. "But she'll race through anything a teacher will give her. She was three when she started reading those texts," he looked back at her, trying unsuccessfully to stop Jameson tugging at the sofa cushions.
"Heya, sweetie," the door banged, and Elizabeth launched herself into Cordelia's arms, looking less like a college professor and more like a little girl.
"Cordy," she yelled, flinging her arms around the dark-haired Seer's neck. Cordelia hugged her, and grinned. "I know where I'm welcome," she said smugly to Wesley, as he walked over.
"What's the matter?" he asked mildly, blowing on his tea. She grimaced, pulling a funny face at Elizabeth.
"The telepaths have gone ker-plooey," she answered, shifting Elizabeth so she sat across her hip. "You're kinda needed. They're speaking a weird language, which Angel assures me is one of the ones you know, only it's uber old and of the wacky."
"Might I be of some service?" Elizabeth asked courteously, the serious look settling on her face as Cordelia set her on the ground. "I am well versed in some of the more diverse old languages."
"My daughter, Oxford class of eighteen," Wesley laughed, running a hand through her long, gleaming hair. "All right, Beth-child." Elizabeth smiled, pleased. There was magic where Daddy worked, and magic, Elizabeth knew from her vast years of experience, meant fun.
A/N: Who Genna and Elizabeth are, how they relate to one another, and the main gist of the story has yet to be explained. Questions, comments, please review!!
2nd A/N: I actually wrote this a week ago, before going to Turkey, and didn't post. So please review! I'm starved of reviews.