Part 3: Daddy
"Swayer!" Dylan chirped happily from her high chair, a bowl of cereal turned over and spread out on the tray before her. "Swayer! Swayer! Swayer!"
Buffy shook her head at the small child, her hand up over her eyes as if she couldn't see her, then maybe Dylan would stop calling her that. Shortly after they had come back to Sunnydale, the child had started to speak, simple words and usually incorrectly, but it was speech nonetheless. In fact, she had turned into a parrot as of late, repeating any words that were easy enough for her to pronounce.
Buffy had spent a better part of a day trying to get her to say Mommy, but Dylan wasn't having any of that. She would just cock her head slightly to the side and stare at her with those big, bewildering blue eyes as if she had sprung another head.
When she did that, Buffy couldn't help but wonder how none of her friends had noticed how much she actually looked like Spike, though she had a sneaking suspicion that Tara knew. After that first night, whenever the witch was around both Dylan and Spike, she would look from one to another, as if she were comparing features. The slayer had some ideas that a certain blabber-mouth sister of hers might have had something to do with that, but, if Tara did know, she was keeping the knowledge to herself.
She also didn't think it would be long before Giles would at least start to suspect something. He was already trying to find an in to grill her about the father and his 'lack' of participation in the child's life. He once had said something about it when Spike had been at the Magic Box, answering his questions about his new soul, and Buffy had heard the vampire growl lowly and give the Watcher icy stares from behind his back. With a simple look, Buffy had been able to shut him up, but Giles was no idiot. He knew that they were sharing some sort of secret, but he just wasn't sure of what.
Anya was blissfully unaware of anything not having to do with the Magic Box, Xander, or Jessie. If the topic of conversation didn't concern any of them, she would simply ignore it. And Xander, well....Xander basically had lived on the river of Denial and was receiving his mail there.
Buffy sighed as she bent down in front of the child, picked up the disregarded bowl and began to put the cereal back inside. "Mommy, Dylan," she corrected, going about the task. "I'm Mommy, not Slayer."
She could kill Spike for calling her that now. After all her efforts to get the child to call her Mommy, he had come in her home that afternoon, picked the child up, and then had said something to Buffy about patrolling, but he called her slayer. Now apparently Dylan thought that was what she was suppose to call her, too.
"Swayer," she giggled again at her mother's aggravation. She was so Spike's kid, it wasn't even funny.
Buffy groaned as she stood up and took the bowl over to the sink to be cleaned with the other dirty dishes from the day's worth of cooking her mother had been doing. It was Thanksgiving, and dinner at the Summers' household was to start at seven sharp, with the whole gang there to celebrate the holiday with the two newest members. Of course, by seven Dylan would be a little ball of energy, not really caring if the grown-ups wanted to have a nice meal or not. Well, she had volunteered Dawn to 'corral' the child, which she seemed to be so good at. Her sister didn't mind, but just wait until the teen was in the middle of her meal and she would have to go chase down the child who was an escape artist when it came to high chairs and baby pens. And Dylan never walked; she ran, and ran fast. Even Buffy had trouble keeping up with her sometimes without breaking into slayer speed. This was definitely a Thanksgiving Dawn wasn't going to forget for a long time.
Buffy couldn't even remember where she had spent last Thanksgiving-was it Israel or Greece?-but she would have never dreamed that she would be spending the next one at home in Sunnydale, with her family and friends. The very thought brought a smile to her face. Lost in her own thoughts, Buffy didn't hear the front door open and shut, and jumped a little in surprise when her mother walked into the kitchen carrying two large bags of groceries.
"Hi, Honey," she said with a large smile laying the bags on the island.
"Gran!" Dylan squealed from her chair when she saw Joyce.
The middle age woman looked over at the child, her face warm at the word that Dylan had learned would make the kind woman smile at her. They both knew the child would have no idea what it meant until she was older, but she liked it none the less.
"And how's my precious granddaughter? Being good for her Mommy?" she asked bending over and kissing the child's head that was covered in light blonde hair.
"Swayer!" Dylan corrected.
Joyce laughed quietly to herself as Buffy groaned even louder. "Still can't get her to stop calling you that hum?" her mother asked in a sympathetic tone when she walked over to the oven to check on the turkey.
"No," Buffy sighed, finishing the last dish and then picking the child up from the high chair. "And I think she does it because she knows it aggravates me."
Her mother chuckled even louder than before as she took the lid off the turkey pan, surveyed the bird, then slid it back inside the oven. "Don't worry so much about it, Honey. When you were her age, you called everyone Hank. It was the only word you could say," she said, smiling at the memory. "And Dawn could only say broom."
"Well, Dylan can say a lot of words, and I think she could say Mommy if she wanted to," her daughter answered, bouncing the child on her side. "Do you know Dawn actually got her to say Aunt Dawn the other day? Two words, and she said it crystal clear. Now you can't tell me she can't say Mommy."
"She will," Joyce reassured. "And she'll be speaking in complete sentences before you know it. At the rate she's going, she's going to be a real chatter box and we'll never get her to be quiet."
"Just like your Daddy, huh, Dylan," Buffy said to the child.
Joyce's face fell slightly from the mention of him. They had been home for nearly two months now, and Buffy still hadn't told her everything that had happened like she had promised she would. She hadn't even told the others about him yet, though she could see it was starting to wear on him, on all of them.
"Speaking of which, what time did Spike say he would be here?" Joyce asked as she turned around so her daughter wouldn't see her face.
"In a little while," Buffy answered, still keeping her attention on her child, though she noticed her mother's movements. After a few moments of silence, she said, "You're wondering about when I'm going to tell them, aren't you?"
"Did I say anything?" Joyce asked, in a tone that clearly stated that was what she was wondering about.
"Mom, we've been over this..."
"I know. It's just-Buffy, how long do you think you can keep it a secret? Dylan is talking now, and it's not like you can tell her to keep quiet about who her father is."
"I know. I know. But, I just....That is I don't....I don't know how to tell them, Mom. I mean, it was hard enough telling you and Dawn. Giles is going to blow a fuse when he finds out. And Xander...I don't even want to think about Xander. I would kind of like my child to be able to remember her father being something other then a big pile of dust in a Shot Vac."
"No one said telling them was going to be easy, Buffy. But you knew when you came back that you would have to eventually."
The blonde dropped her head slightly knowing what her mother was telling her was true. She didn't want Dylan to be ashamed of who she is, but still, the thought of telling them scared her to death. Why couldn't she just face a good old apocalypse? That would have been a lot easier.
"Soon, Mom. I swear I'll tell them soon," she said quietly.
********
Dawn couldn't help but wonder how a kid with such short legs could be so fast. She had come downstairs to help her mother and sister a few minutes before, and apparently was now on the clock in baby-sitting Dylan. In less than a minute, the child had wormed her way out of Giles' grip, and was now making a mad dash for the dinning room where Buffy and Joyce were working to get ready. With Giles and Dawn in tow, Dylan giggled wildly, like she often did, as she started to round the table, passed Joyce and ran straight at her mother. With her quick reflexes, Buffy put the platter she was holding down on the table, and scooped up the child before she passed her.
The child struggled in Buffy's grip when Dawn and Giles jogged to a slow stop in front of her. "I thought I told you to watch her," she said in annoyed tone, handing Dylan back over to her sister.
Dawn sighed as she shifted the child's weight for a better grip. "Don't blame me on this one. It was all Giles' here. He's the one that let her go."
"I didn't think she could get away so fast," Giles defended. "You didn't tell me she could move like that."
"Yeah, well, now you know," Dawn said moving past her sister and heading back into the living room. "We have one very important rule in the house. When you're watching Dylan, you watch Dylan."
"Yes, well, I'm sorry I did not realize an eleven-month-old could qualify for the Olympics," he said dryly as he followed her back into the living room, where Tara sat on the couch, holding Dylan's stuffed dog nervously.
"Should children be able to move that fast so young?" she asked quietly. Giles sat down in the arm chair and Dylan and Dawn rested beside the witch.
"No, it is very unusual, but should be expected with Buffy being her mother," he explained, leaning back and making himself more comfortable after the chase. "We can probably look forward to Dylan being able to do a lot of things that children her age shouldn't be able to do. Her grasp of speech is an example of that. It shows real intelligence."
"Yeah, she's already way smarter than Buffy," Dawn said with an evil grin. "No matter what Buffy does, she somehow manages to unlock that baby crib whenever she wants to. She's a regular Houdini when it comes to stuff like that."
The girl struggled in Dawn's grasp, doing her best to slide back down on the floor to where she could stand again. The teen did her best to keep her in her lap, but Dylan did not want to be held, she wanted to be able to walk around and get under everyone's feet. Dawn looked to Tara for any sort of help she might provide, and the witch held up the dog she had been holding.
"Dylan," she said softly, getting the child's attention. "You want your dog?"
"Willow!" the baby answered, reaching out of the stuffed animal.
Tara's eyes widened and her face paled at the name. Dawn's face also paled as she reached up covered her mouth. "W-what did s-she say?" the blonde asked, stuttering even more at the mention of the other girl.
"Oh, Tara, I'm sorry I forgot to tell you," the teen said, before she reached over and took the dog and gave it to the fussy child. "Dylan, she, um, kind of named her dog that. We don't know where it came from, honest. Me and Mom and Buffy were like all blown away the other day when she started to cry for Willow. Just right out of the blue like that. I'm so sorry, Tara. I should have told you."
"It's alright, Dawn," she tried to the sooth the babbling girl. "Just took me by surprise is all."
"Tara!" Dylan said brightly, clinging onto the animal for dear life.
Thankful for the distraction, Dawn held her close and whispered to her, "That's right. That's Tara. And who's that man over there?"
Dylan studied Giles for a moment and smiled as the answer came to her. "Giz!"
"Giles," he corrected.
"Would you rather go back to Stalker?" Dawn asked with a grin. A few days ago, Dylan had tried to call Giles by Watcher, like Spike often did, and failed miserably.
"Giz is fine," he said deadpan, remembering the look on the woman's face in the Magic Shop when the child had called him that.
Both Tara and Dawn giggled at the memory, when the front door opened and Xander and his family appeared.
"We're here," he called playfully as they entered.
The young man was carrying a dessert; and, while balancing it in one hand, helped Anya with her coat as she did her best to balance her eight-month-old on one side of her body, and slide the coat off the other. By the time he had successfully gotten it off, Buffy had appeared from the dinning room to give them a proper welcome.
"Hey, guys," she said with a large smile.
"Hey, Buffster," the young man answered, giving her a small kiss on the cheek. "Happy Thanksgiving."
"Happy Thanksgiving," Buffy answered before looking back at Anya and Jessie. Anya looked as if she didn't know quite what to say, so she said, "Hi. We brought pie."
Buffy shook her head slightly, wondering exactly where that had come from, then said, "Pie's good." She then saw the dessert in Xander's hand and took it from him. "Here, I'll put it back in the kitchen with the others."
When she disappeared back through the dinning room, Anya reared back and hit Xander lightly in the chest. He winced for a moment, as she explained, "I told you they would have pie already."
Xander shook his head at his wife and walked into the living room where the others were still seated. He stood at the side of the couch where Tara and Dawn were seated, as Anya came into the living room and looked pointedly at Giles, as if she expected him to give up the arm chair for her. She just stood there over him, holding the baby at her side like Buffy often did with Dylan, waiting for him to move. After several seconds, he grumbled something about going and checking on Buffy and Joyce, got up, and let the now happy ex-vengeance take the seat with her daughter. Her husband had made a point of ignoring the situation while Giles gave him a look, but went to rest against one of the walls instead of doing as he said.
"So, how's my favorite Summers girls?" Xander asked.
"Doing good," Dawn answered holding the child close to her. "I think Dylan's training for a marathon or something like that, but good."
"She is a fast little bugger," he agreed, not even realize he had picked up the word from Giles, or perhaps even Spike. "Buffy gave her to me to watch the other day, and she was like all over the house in no time."
"Yes," Anya said. "It was amusing to watch him run after her, and he was unable to keep up."
"You could have helped, you know," Xander pointed out.
"But I was tending to our own child. You were the one who volunteered to watch someone else's," she told him, before returning to cooing over Jessie. That kid was going to be so spoiled.
"Here, let me see her," Xander said reaching for Dylan. Still clinging to her dog, she looked at the person who held her strangely, as if she almost didn't remember who he was. Like everyone else, he got a kick out of hearing her call him by his name, which she usually pronounced as Xaner or Ander, but she was trying. "Hey, Dylan. Who am I?" he asked.
She cocked her head to the side like a bird and studied him for a moment like she had Giles, her little mouth dropped open slightly. When she still hadn't answered in after several moments had passed, he said, "Xannnnn?"
"Xaner!" she said happily, finally connecting to what he wanted to call him. He was about to congratulate her on remembering, when she shouted, "Whelp!"
Dawn barely managed to bite back a laugh, as Xander looked horrified and the others surprised. He turned to Dawn, his cheek slightly red, and said, "I'm guessing a certain bleach blond blood sucker's been hanging around."
"Could be worse," Dawn said, not hiding the tight smile on her face. "She could have called you Stalker like she did Giles the other day."
*******
Buffy stood in the kitchen, slicing the final carrot for the giant bowl of salad that her mother was making, when the back door opened. She glanced over at the back door to find the blond vampire coming in, a large brown bag tucked safely into his grip. Even though she had told him it was supposed to be more of a formal family gathering, in other words come nicely dressed, he had still shown up in his black jeans, matching t-shirt, and that black duster. Some things would never change, she guessed.
"'ello, love," Spike said coming inside, the duster swirling around him like a cape.
"You're late," was Buffy's greeting. She was trying to sound annoyed with him, but she was glad that he had finally got there. At least now she would have someone to talk to who she didn't feel she had to hold back on anything, like she did with the others. "Did you bring the wine like I asked?"
"Of course, pet," he said with his cocky little grin, putting the brown bag on the counter next to her.
"And it isn't that box wine stuff, right?" she asked suspiciously with a raised eyebrow.
"Why? It's not like anyone but the Watcher would notice."
"Spike."
He reached into the bag and pulled out a large, dark green bottle with a label in French for his answer. For some reason she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe it was that box wine he had just poured into some old bottle, but she wouldn't say anything if it were. Just blame it on a bad year or something.
"Swayer!" a tiny voice rang in through the door to living room.
Spike bit back at a smile, but not very well, as Buffy sighed. "I could kill you for teaching her that," she scolded, pointing the sharp end of the knife at him as if it were her finger.
"How was I suppose to know she'd like that better then Mommy?" he asked not holding back his amusement of the situation.
"Because she's your daughter," she sneered.
"WHAT?!"
Buffy froze as she still faced the bleach blond that looked as if he didn't know whether to run or laugh. She knew who the voice belonged to, and she was silently praying that maybe if she just focused on Spike long enough, she would have only imagined him saying that word. But the air was thick and charged, and she knew no matter how much she wished she had only dreamed him hearing it, that Xander Harris was now in on her little secret.
With a pale, white face, she slowly turned towards the door between the living room and kitchen and found her best friend standing there. His jaw was dropped as low as humanly possible, and she had no idea that eyes could bulge out that much. He looked as if he had swallowed his own tongue as he stared at her, his eyes pleading with her to have just been kidding. When she had no answer for him, he turned back into the living room still dazed.
"Xander?" Dawn asked from the couch, bouncing Dylan in her lap. "What's the matter?"
"Yes, you look like you did when I told you I was pregnant," Anya added, holding her own child. Jessie wiggled in her mother's arms at being mentioned, but the ex-demon just shifted her and she calmed down quickly.
"Buffy….baby….bad," he muttered as he shuffled over to his wife.
The slayer dropped the knife she had been using and raced after her friend before he could tell them what he had heard. How they missed it was beyond her, but, from the conversation, they still didn't know. She knew she had to tell them now, but she wanted to be the one, not Xander. Well, apparently soon came a lot faster then she had hoped.
"Xander," Buffy called, hurrying after him with Spike close behind.
"Swayer!" Dylan called happily to her mother. "Daddy!"
The room fell into a deafening silence.
**********