Future Imperfect by Lilachigh

The story so far: Many years have passed since Buffy wondered about what her grandchildren would be like. Now she is faced with eight year old twins, Joyce and Billy, sent by Shanny, their mother so that their grandparents, Buffy and Spike, can warn them about the dangers that could confront them. Spike, given part of the Shanshu prophecy after the Apocalypse, is still a vampire but aging, like a human. He also was able to father their miracle daughter, Shanny. But when the twins were five, Shanny stopped Buffy and Spike having any contact with them. She was determined they would grow up normal children. Sadly, as Joyce is an extremely powerful little witch, her hopes have been dashed!

Chp 2 The Biggest Bad

Buffy stared at her granddaughter hovering in the doorway – her pyjamas were bright with pictures of the latest TV comic star – some sort of bear with wings - but they were too small and too young for her. Her feet and ankles looked white and thin poking out from the bottom of the legs and Buffy suddenly grinned as she realised that those feet were exactly the same shape and colour as Spike's!

"Joyce, walk properly," she said. "You're not a humming-bird. You don't have to hover. You should be in bed asleep."

Joyce drifted to the floor then ran over and clambered into Spike's lap. He rubbed his chin across her tangled blonde hair as she snuggled against his chest.

"And what's all this rubbish about us not loving your mother," Buffy went on.

"It's what Mom says," Joyce muttered defiantly.

"Well, that's something we'll have to sort out with her," Buffy replied. "She's completely wrong and I expect you misunderstood her. But what's important now is you and Billy."

"Is this the right time to start in with the explanations, pet?" Spike said softly. "They've only just arrived. They probably don't even remember us very well or know why they're here."

"Yes we do," Joyce said, sitting up straighter. "We've been sent away from home because I'm bad."

"What!" Buffy and Spike spoke at the same time.

Joyce shrugged, slid off Spike's lap and stood in front of them, "I'm bad, and Dad says I'm the biggest bad he's ever known and he's known a lot."

"That's true," Spike muttered under his breath.

Buffy's lips twitched. Joyce was leaning against the table, her head tilted to one side, eight years old and with an attitude that brought memories flooding back. There was nothing to remind Buffy of the little girl's parents; everything in her cocky, pugnacious approach to life was inherited from Spike.

She took a deep breath. "Joyce, sweetheart, you and Billy haven't been sent away from home because you're bad – "

"Not Twin," Joyce interrupted anxiously. "Don't be cross with him. Billy's not bad. But he had to come because we go everywhere together. Mom said he could stay at home, but he just got in the car when it was time to go."

"Your Mom and Dad know you have – well, problems. They thought Granddad and me would be the best people to talk to you about them, that's all. No one thinks you're bad."

Joyce didn't look convinced. She flicked her finger against her thumb and made a little scarlet mouse with emerald spots run across the floor. She watched her grandparents out of the corner of her eye, but to her surprise, neither of them flinched or looked surprised. She flicked her finger again and a much larger mouse appeared.

"Joyce – before you get to the rats and leopard stage, do you want to know about what you're doing," Buffy asked briskly.

"It's a very bad habit, very silly and dangerous," the little girl said, repeating something that had obviously been said to her many times. "Mom says I mustn't do it. Auntie Willow gets all upset."

"Do you see a lot of Auntie Willow?"

Joyce nodded. "When we were little she was round at our house visiting Mom all the time, then she went to live abroad for a while after I took her to a funny place where everyone had green faces and lots of lots of arms. She didn't like that at all. I thought it was cool."

Buffy glanced at Spike in despair. Poor Willow – she had been so thrilled when Shanny was born, so delighted to be her god-mother…even though, as she'd often said, being Jewish excluded her from the actual Christening….

….

…"Buffy, she's perfect! Adorable. Aren't you, Shanny, aren't you adorable?" Willow tickled the little girl and made cooing noises at her.

Buffy prowled across to the window and stared out at the dusky grey sky. Pinpoints of emerald and scarlet showed where the house was surrounded by some of the demon army who'd been tracking them across Europe.

She threw a glance back at Willow and smiled. It had been a very long time since she'd seen her friend looking this happy. After Kennedy had died in the first weeks of the European Demon War, the witch had retreated into herself. She used whatever magic she could to help the cause, but so many of the demons they were fighting seemed untouched by her brand of witchcraft.

"We think she's adorable, and she'd been even more gorgeous if she didn't cry at all the wrong times," Buffy said with a sigh. "It's difficult to creep up on a monster in a stealthy fashion when Shanny starts wailing for her next meal. But she's learning. She's much quieter than she used to be."

Willow finished changing the baby, dressed her in the jeans and sweat shirt she always wore and tucked her into the travelling backpack that Spike had made. Dawn usually wore this to carry Shanny, but Dawn had gone back to London with Giles to plan a second front so Willow had been promoted to Shanny carrier.

"You didn't think of sending her to England with Dawn?"

Buffy turned back to the window. Spike was somewhere out there in the Roman night, trying to discover what plans the demons had and she was getting nervous because he'd been gone a long time now with no word.

"No, we want her with us. Oh, I know Dawn and Giles would protect her with their lives, but she's our daughter, Will. We love her so much and she belongs with us."

Willow frowned and ran her fingers through her short ragged red hair. When Kennedy had died, she'd cut it to about an inch all over. She didn't want to look pretty any more, or even attractive. Tara, Kennedy, everyone who loved her died. There would be no one else.

"She's almost two now, isn't she? Seeing things, hearing things. They must make an impression on her mind. Buffy, I don't know anything about babies, but is it right to have her here, in the middle of the fighting and killing?"

Buffy shrugged and checked the street once more. Where was Spike? Every second he was out of her sight was a nightmare for her. Since they'd found each other again, since he'd been given half of the Shansu prophecy by the PTBs – that although he would remain a vampire he would age like a human being and be able to father a child – Buffy had had the feeling that this marvellous gift could be taken away just as easily as it had been given.

"Come on Will, Shanny's the daughter of a Slayer and a vampire. She's going to see a lot of weird things in her life. Not much point in pretending the opposite, is there?"

Willow gently pushed the brown curls away from the toddler's eyes. Shanny needed to have her hair cut, or at least tied back with a ribbon. Two big brown eyes gazed up at her. Willow sighed. She adored the little girl, but worried about her constantly. She was so quiet. You would find her playing quietly by herself in a corner of the room while her parents discussed battle tactics.

Willow glanced across at Buffy, saw her face change from strained and concerned to joyful and guessed that meant Spike was nearby.

The door was thrust open and the vampire stalked in, leather coat swinging. Shanny's gaze swung round to watch as her mother and father flung their arms around each other and kissed. For a long minute they had eyes for no one but each other, then Spike said, "And how's my other best girl?" and bent down to kiss and hug his daughter.

Buffy watched, smiling, as Spike picked up their daughter and danced round the room with her. Was Will right? Should she have sent Shanny back to England with Dawn? But surely the best place for a child was with her parents. Life couldn't go on being so difficult. The demon army would be beaten eventually and then she and Spike could settle down together and bring up their daughter properly in a world where monsters and hell things no longer existed….

But Willow's memory had gone flashing back to her own childhood and parents who adored each other. She knew in her head that they loved her, but had never really been able to dissuade herself that she was somehow very much in the way.

She sighed. Well, Shansu would always have her Auntie Willow in her life. She would never let her down. Ever…

…..

…"Mom told Auntie Willow it was up to her to teach me self control when we came back from the green-face world. Then they had a big row, because Auntie Willow said it was impossible," Joyce said now. "So she went away. And Mom cried because I'm so bad Auntie Willow didn't want to stay."

Spike tried not to smile. He knew Buffy would bloody well slay him if he made a joke of all this. But he could see the funny side, that was the trouble. Shanny, his darling Shanny, had broken his heart as well as her mother's, but this child had stolen it away and refused to give it back.

He could just picture Red sounding indignant and mortified that she couldn't teach the little girl how to control herself. For Joyce was trespassing on the witch's territory. He supposed it would be a bit like Andrew besting him in a fist fight. He'd never get over it. Never live it down. No wonder Willow had gone to Europe.

He remembered what she had said to Buffy when she'd paid a flying visit to them before she left.

"Joyce scares me, Buffy. She's eight years old and has more power now than I've ever had. I don't know where it comes from and I don't know what to say to her. She's way beyond me and she scares me silly. And she terrifies her parents. Shanny thinks it's all my fault, that I've taught her – "

There was a catch in her voice. She loved Shanny so much, she was the daughter she'd never had. Her anger was more than Willow could bear.

"But I haven't. I've never said a word to her. The only spell Joyce has ever seen was when I made her teddy-bear dance in her crib and she was doing that herself two days later and she couldn't even talk! I'm going to Europe to see Giles. He might have some ideas. I'm all out."

Now as Spike watched, Buffy pulled Joyce towards her, placing her between her knees and holding her shoulders firmly. "Listen, sweetheart. What you can do isn't wrong – not like telling a lie or stealing is wrong. It's called witchcraft and usually you learn to do it when you're way older than you are. Auntie Willow was about sixteen or seventeen when she started."

Joyce rolled her eyes and Spike choked behind his hand as Buffy's indignant expression crossed his granddaughter's face. "Jeez, Gran, I know I'm a witch," she said with the ill-concealed impatience of the young talking to the very brain dead old.

"Oh, how do you know?"

Spike heard a soft sound on the stairs and whirled round. Blue eyes met sapphire, the blond curls were identical, but the hard, flat planes of the older face were softened to chubby cheeks in the boy who stood there in the doorway. A warm, charming smile curved full lips.

"I told her, of course," Billy said and for the first time, a shiver of nerves ran down Spike's back.

'You OK?' the thought flashed into Joyce's head and she replied in the same silent way.

'Yes.' She and Billy often spoke like this to each other, without words. They'd done it when they were babies and couldn't speak properly and now it was just second nature. But they'd both learnt to conceal this ability from grown-ups. Their mom and dad had got very upset when they guessed what they were doing. Joyce knew their parents now thought the twins had 'grown out of it', as if getting taller made any difference to what she and twin did.

"Billy – " Buffy held out her hand and her grandson wriggled onto her knee, hitching up his pants which were in danger of sliding down over skinny hipbones. "How did you know Joyce was a witch, sweetheart?'

Billy smiled up into the hazel-green eyes above his head, his own clear and innocent. "I don't know, Grandma. Seemed kinda obvious, I suppose. She could do all these really neat tricks and there were books in the basement that explained a lot of things. So I told Twin what she was to stop her getting upset because she thought she was being bad.'

Buffy flashed Spike a quick glance. The vampire's rapport with his grandson had never been has absolute as that with Joyce. She knew the reasons. The little boy might look like Spike, but he'd inherited very little of the vampire's character. He seemed a sunny, sweet-natured child who could charm the birds off the trees if he chose.

Now Spike was staring at Billy, a frown on his face. "Can you do magic, too?"

Billy shrugged. "It's boring. All Twin does is snap her fingers and anything she wants appears. It gets us in all sorts of trouble. We had to hide the lion cubs in my room until she could send them back to Africa. No, I like making things. You should see my model aeroplanes, Granddad! I've done them all from kits. They're cool." He tactfully didn't add that quite often when the house was empty, Joyce would make the planes whirl round his room, the little propellers spinning, the jet engines roaring.

"Billy's a poophead," Joyce said scornfully. "All he wants to do is hang out with the boys at school and play baseball. Him and Dad are always playing catch in the yard. That's boring!"

"T'isn't!"

"T'is!'

Buffy let Billy slide off her lap and stood up. "Ok, kids, bed time. It's too late to talk about this any more tonight. Tomorrow, Granddad and I will explain a lot of things that you need to know."

'They want to talk about us,' Billy said inside Joyce's head as they clambered up the stairs to their room.

'Guess so. They're old; they don't think quickly like we do.'

'Did you tell them about the weird lady with the painted face?'

'No. They wouldn't understand.' Joyce crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head. She wasn't scared, but she hoped the strange woman wouldn't find her here at Granny's house. It was a long way from home. Perhaps the magic wouldn't reach this far.

Downstairs, Buffy reached out her hand and Spike flung himself down on the sofa next to her. "Bloody hell, pet, what the heck's going on with those two?"

Buffy groaned. "They were communicating without talking. I could sense it. I did that once with Xander and Willow. I thought it was a Slayer thing, but Joyce isn't a Slayer. I would know if she was."

Spike wrapped his arm round her thin shoulders and hugged her. "Well, sweetheart, I've got no idea what Billy is, but he isn't a Slayer, either!"

"He looks just like you."

"So, he's cursed with the family good looks. Still doesn't make him a Slayer."

"Maybe he's just a normal little boy."

Her beloved vampire pulled a face, got up and wandered out into the kitchen to heat some blood in the microwave. He'd refrained from eating in front of the twins so far, but knew he couldn't hide what he was from them for long. Tomorrow would be a difficult day. How would they react when they were told he was a vampire?

Spike swallowed a mouthful of gore. How exactly did you tell two eight-year-olds that their grandfather was a vampire? Was Buffy going to explain about the Shansu prophecy and what it meant to them all? How the hell could they understand when he didn't really get all the implications himself?

Buffy had followed him into the kitchen. Gently, she touched his shoulder as he stood gazing out into the dark, wind-filled yard. "You're worrying about telling them, aren't you?" she said. "You're not that bothered about Joyce's powers or what Billy might be, are you? It's more than that."

Spike shrugged. "We all know Joyce is a witch. What did Red call her? - 'the most powerful witch she'd ever met' and she hasn't even started developing her abilities yet. If that's even half true, then I reckon she'll cope with whatever we throw at her about witchcraft and Slayers. But vampires – "

He tossed the empty blood packet into the bin and restlessly opened the back door and strode out into the moonlit yard, desperate for the feel of the cool night air.

"Spike – "

He whirled round. "Don't you see, pet? Shanny has them carrying stakes in their pockets and they both wear crosses round their necks. They don't know what they're for yet, but tomorrow you're going to tell them. And the first thing they need to know is that their grandfather used to be one of the evil undead and that it's only a poxy prophecy that's stopping them or anyone else from being able to turn me to dust if they had the chance."

Buffy cupped his face between her hands and ran her thumbs over his cheekbones, tracing the line of his mouth, easing the frown line between his eyebrows.

"I know it's going to be difficult," she said softly. "But they're not stupid kids: they sense something is different about our family. I think they'll be happier when they know. Children don't like secrets. I remember when Dad left, Mom didn't tell me for ages. It was all, "oh he's away on work' and 'he'll be home next week'. I knew it wasn't the truth and not knowing was even worse than when they eventually told me they'd separated."

Spike kissed her palm as it slid over his mouth. God, his girl was still so sexy. All these years and she could still make his body sing with joy and anticipation.

"Bloody hell, Slayer. I'll let you do all the talking tomorrow. Your speeches are much better than mine. It's a pity in some ways that we never had to tell Shanny. We'd have a better idea of just what to say to the twins. But she just grew up, watching and learning. Do you know, pet, I don't even know when she saw her first vampire staked….."

…

….. The graveyard was cold. Shanny Summers shivered as she sat under a bush. She was six years old. Birthday Girl said the sticker on her T-shirt. She hugged the stuffed pig that Mommy had given her. He was cute. But she wouldn't give him a name because her toys often got lost or left behind when they had to move fast. It wasn't so sad if they didn't have names.

There'd been a party earlier. No kids came. She didn't know any.

She shivered again. She'd forgotten her jacket and Mommy would be cross. You had to 'always be prepared', but Shanny wasn't sure 'xactly what those words meant.

There'd been cake and ice-cream. Lots of people had patted her head and said how much she'd grown and then stood in groups talking to each other about 'the battle' and 'the second front' and 'the big board'.

Uncle Andrew had played dolls with her for a while, but then, just before she got to blow out the candles on her cake, someone had rushed in, shouting, and he'd had to go on a 'patrol' with Mommy and Daddy.

She was supposed to have gone to bed but it was her birthday and she wanted Mommy and Daddy to watch her blow out the candles! So in all the confusion, she'd slipped out of the room and followed them. But she'd forgotten her jacket and Mommy would yell.

She knew she had to be quiet. She was always a good girl and quiet because if you weren't the monsters came and ate you all up.

Mommy and Daddy and Uncle Andrew and another big man had come into this graveyard. Mommy and Daddy were there, a little way away, but they didn't know she was under this bush. And even as she watched, the ground in front of her heaved, the earth breaking away in great lumps. She shrank back, wanting to yell for Mommy, but remembering that you must never scream.

A big thing came clambering out of the ground and then another. Their faces were all lumpy and bumpy and they'd seen her and their mouths with great sharp teeth were coming towards her and Mommy and Daddy came running - Daddy's face was all lumpy, too - they were kicking and punching and she was holding dear pig so tight it's head tore away from its body as Shanny Summers, six years old, watched her parents thrust wooden stakes into the monsters' chests and their dust drifted down through the leaves and settled over her where she stayed, not screaming, still hidden from view, knowing now that wherever she went, the monsters would always find her…

…

…."I think she was about ten," Buffy said, frowning. "Killing vamps never seemed to bother her, did it? She'd heard all about Slayers and the Prophecy and Hellmouths by then. I just think it's a shame she hasn't told Joyce and Billy."

"We'll do it tomorrow, love. We'll find a way to make them understand and not be scared." Spike wrapped his arms round her and they stood, gazing up at the moon as it sailed between the clouds. And upstairs, a little girl twitched and turned in her sleep as a dark woman with a painted face appeared again and beckoned with a bony finger for her to follow….

To be continued

Author's Note: Do let me know if you are enjoying this new story.