You sigh. "I forgive you, Briar. Just... try not to do it again, okay?"
"'kay." Her smile turns solemn, and she raises her right hand, palm forward, while holding her left hand over her heart. "I promise."
The two of you stay like that for a moment. Then you snort, reach out a single finger, and lightly poke the fairy in her tiny little stomach. "Stop making that creepy face, will you?"
"I was trying to be serious, jerk," Briar mutters, swatting your offending digit with featherlight force. "See if I get you anything nice for your birthday."
"Yeah, whatever." You lean back, pull the sheets halfway up over your head, and shut your eyes. "I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when breakfast is ready."
Briar makes some comment you don't quite catch through the fuzzy material of your blankets, though the tone sounds fairly rude. Tired as you are from your interrupted slumber, it's not long at all before you drift off once again.
Right before you sink back into dreamland, something small and warm briefly touches your face.
Your birthday arrives. Due in part to Cordelia's influence, you ended up inviting half the students from your year, and from the look of things when you hit the beach, Cordy took it upon herself to bring the other half. There must be a hundred kids running around - you find yourself immensely glad that you didn't try to throw this party at your house. It never would have held even a quarter this many hyped-up seven year olds. Fortunately, there's close to thirty adults as well - your parents, Uncle Rory, several moms and dads, the caterers (you KNOW your folks didn't hire them), and one other.
The Clown.
You're not sure who hired the fantastically made-up, riotously-dressed entertainer, but the moment you first lay eyes on him, you dislike what you see - and it only gets worse when he breaks out his routine. You're not entirely certain why. He's not a bad performer - quite the opposite, really. The man is a natural acrobat, he does things with balloon animals you'd never considered possible, his sleight of hand tricks are second to none, and his jokes? They're actually funny. There's just something about him that puts you on edge.
It might be his laugh. High-pitched, raucous, slightly unhinged - it reminds you of Zant. For that matter, so does the flopping, jittery dancing about.
All in all, you don't think you'll be asking your parents to hire this guy for your next birthday party.
The morning passes in a whirl of clownish antics, party games, wading, and some actual swimming from the braver or sportier kids. Then comes lunch, a grand beach barbeque, followed by the cake and presents. Considering the sheer size of the guest list, you make a stunning haul. A new set of training clothes from your folks. Cordelia got you a cellphone with a year-long paid subscription. From Larry, you receive a personalized Raiders jersey and a new football, and Amy gives you a pendant - one that makes you, and something deep within your consciousness, do a double-take.
Two back-to-back crescents, conjoined by a narrowing bridge, and each holding a perfect circle within its long, curving arms. Above and below, curved shapes vaguely resembling half-budded blossoms, each mirroring the other. Taken as a whole, it could be a masked face, a warrior's helm and besagews over the breastplate, or a hooded figure grasping at unknown forces or treasures.
The Gerudo Crest. How did she-
Briar. It has to be. She's probably the only other being on the entire planet who knows what that symbol is, and what it means.
After staring at the pendant for a long moment, you quietly thank Amy, and then slip it on over your head.
Following the last of the long line of gifts - you absently wonder where you're going to find room for everything - the Clown re-emerges from wherever he vanished off to, launching into the second phase of his act. As all other eyes are drawn towards the painted lunatic, you look around, and note that Larry has lingered by the barbeque to get another burger - his third, you believe - and Cordelia is still polishing off her piece of your cake in a neat, adult-like manner while she chatters with her circle of minions, and Amy.
Collecting your three closest human friends for a private chat isn't that hard.
"What's up, Alex?" Larry asks, taking a bite from his burger.
"Yeah," Cordelia adds. "We're missing the creepy clown's pretty awesome magic show, so this better be good."
You take a breath, and consider again how best to demonstrate to these two that magic is real.
OOC: Actually, everything that has a soul or an "essence" has its own mana reserve, it's just that Buffyverse magic-users tend not to directly develop theirs, because it's quicker and easier (hello, Dark Side!) to call on gods and demons to do the heavy lifting. Alex's mana reserve is unusually large for a human of his age, and will become more so as he ages and trains, but he's nowhere near godly levels yet. Donating from your own reserves to fuel somebody else's magic is still entirely possible - that's part of what group-cast ritual spells are for - but unless you have EX-rank transfinite reserves, you'll inevitably end up exhausting your batteries. And since Alex is on the Hellmouth, odds are good that such a thing would happen at the worst possible time.