Part Three

Part Three

~**~

Giles' car stopped in front of a terribly middle-class home, in a hopelessly white-bread neighborhood. Mrs. Jamison had been telling them about her daughter's bohemian college career on the way over, and Willow seemed intrigued by the girl's cheerful but blatant rebelliousness. Buffy, on the other hand, was too busy watching her friend switching back and forth between Xander and Sarah to pay much attention to the actual narrative. He would ramble on, waving his hands for emphasis, and then suddenly interrupt himself with a question, which he would then in turn answer. There was no doubt in any of these exchanges where Xander ended, and Sarah began. It was mind-boggling, and Buffy was not a girl whose mind could easily be boggled.

"So anyway, she and Daniel decided to get married after they'd lived together for two years, and…" Sarah noticed the car had stopped, and looked out the window. "Are you sure this is the right address?" she asked Giles in dismay. The Watcher answered affirmatively, and the woman's expression fell. "This is just what I feared." She climbed out of the car, giving directions. "All of you stay out here – this has to be private."

Xander returned to speak. "Uhm, Mrs. J – I can't really stay out here."

She smiled indulgently. "Of course not, dear. I meant the rest of them. I can't do this without you. In fact, you'd better do the talking, to start with. I'll join in when Kelli seems ready."

Xander took back over, and strode with determination to the front door. A pretty young woman who looked to be around thirty answered, baby on her hip. Her welcoming smile turned quickly to a startled expression, and she pulled the young man in, closing the door behind him.

"This should be interesting," Giles muttered, expressing the feeling they all shared.

~**~

Xander fidgeted nervously after knocking. "Don't fidget," Sarah whispered to him, "It makes people not trust you." So he concentrated on standing still and looking as honorable as humanly possible.

The door swung open, and the woman that answered smiled in a carefully distant way. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Kelli Denton?" Xander asked, still straining to hold his body still in a trust-worthy way. When she smiled a bit more freely and nodded, he looked in her eyes. "I'm here with a message from your mother, Sarah." The woman gasped and dragged him through the door, shutting and locking it behind him.

Once she had him inside, Kelli lost all expression of welcome. "What kind of a scam is this?" she demanded angrily. "My mother died over ten years ago, soon after my wedding."

"I know," Xander said, praying this girl wasn't a "hit first, ask questions later" type, like Buffy tended to be. "She was in an auto accident, on her way over here to talk to you about something important. She didn't tell me what it was, though."

All the tension went out of the young woman's body, and she looked incredibly sad. "So you really don't have a message from her, you're just here to torment me." She sank into an overstuffed couch, and the baby in her arms squirmed loose and worked her way to the floor, sitting for a moment in consideration of what to do with her newfound freedom. The mother looked at Xander with tear-filled eyes. "You have no idea how much I miss her – how hard it's been to do all this without her advice and help. You had to get my hopes up. Thanks, loads," Kelli finished bitterly.

Xander saw the picture on the top of the piano – a middle-aged couple, the woman smiling serenely. She had silver blond hair and smoky grey eyes, and he knew already why he'd liked Sarah so much – even her photo projected warmth. "Kelli?" he said, hesitantly – except it wasn't Xander talking.

The other woman was still studying her knees. "Yeah?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. That's why they call them 'accidents'."

The teary face rose slowly. "How'd you do that?" she demanded, anger and fear fighting for dominance in her voice.

"Do what?" Sarah countered.

"There – you did it again! You sound just like her – almost." Fear seemed to be winning.

"Because it is me, sweetheart. Through no fault of his own, as far as I know, Alexander here happened to be on the receiving end when my spirit came through the portal. He's what people call 'possessed'. Although we're more or less both in here together right now – I've never been very good at taking over."

"Yeah," Xander quipped, "Sort of a spiritual time-share, but we both drew the same week." In spite of herself, Kelli grinned briefly.

"He's a nice young man, isn't he?" Sarah looked around. "Reminds me of what you used to be like – nice, but not very much the *same* as most people." She sat down primly on the edge of a chair. "Do you still draw, sweetie?"

"Do I -? Huh?" Kelli stood up suddenly, sweeping the baby off the ground and away from the wall socket she was studying. "As if I have time." She tucked the distressed little girl onto her hip, jiggling the child to stop her tears, and sat again. "It's all I can do to keep up with this one and her brother. I haven't drawn in years."

"What about the poetry? Do you still write? I saved that piece you had published in the *Times*, you know, even though I never did understand it."

Kelli seemed to have forgotten her mother was currently housed in a teenaged boy's body. "Geez, Mom – all I write these days are grocery lists. I didn't think you cared for my 'creative urges' as you used to call them."

Sarah looked sad. "I was just jealous. Did you know that I wanted to be a writer?" Kelli shook her head slowly. "Yes. Your father didn't really approve, though. He was fine as long as it was a hobby, but when I got a letter from a publisher about my novel, he blew his top. I was in the process of leaving him when I had the accident. I wanted to come warn you never to give up on your dreams, to keep trying to sell your comic strip and poetry, and then I was going to New York to talk to the publisher. I didn't make it, on either count."

"And now," Kelli looked down at her daughter, "I've become exactly what you tried to warn me about, huh?" She looked up at her mother from under her lashes. "You know, Dad never did tell us why you had all your suitcases with you when you were hit." She looked at her knees again. "He died two years ago – cancer."

Sarah sighed. "That's too bad. He wasn't a bad man, honey. He just didn't understand. It's hard for someone who got all his joy from working with his hands according to someone else's plans, like your father did, to understand the 'creative urge'." Kelli's little smile breezed across her face again at the familiar phrase. Her mother caught her eye, and the younger woman gasped. The tall dark haired young man had somehow managed to look just like a petite middle-aged blonde woman with grey eyes. She blinked, and the boy was there again. Her mother's cadences shook her back to attention. "It's not too late, for you, anyway. Daniel loved your talent, and I think he'd still support you. You can work on your stuff during the baby's naps, when the little boy…" She trailed off, looking around.

"He's at preschool," Kelli offered.

"When the boy's at preschool," Sarah finished.

"His name is Jeffery, mom. He looks a lot like you. And this," she patted the now dozing baby on the back, "is Sarah."

Xander's body stood up and walked over to the couch. Sarah stroked her namesake gently. "You owe it to them, honey. You can't be the very best mom if you aren't everything you really want to be. Promise?"

Kelli's eyes were watery. "I promise."

Xander shuddered heavily, and Kelli hopped to her feet, apparently ready to catch him if he fainted. He shook his head and looked into her teary eyes.

"She's gone now, isn't she?" Kelli asked. He nodded. "Thank you," she said, smiling through her tears.

"You had a really cool mom," Xander grinned at her, trying to lose the empty feeling Sarah's departure had left inside him. Suddenly, he shuddered again. Kelli reached for his arm.

"Alexander? Alexander, are you alright?"

Hard, cold brown eyes stared out from Xander's face as he shook the woman's hand free.

"He's not here right now," he growled, in a vaguely accented voice.

~**~