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Author's Chapter Notes:
Things are going to get a little hairy for the happy family now.
Changeling
Chapter Ten

Spike went to Joy’s room early Halloween morning to wake her for their trip, and he was surprised when his knock wasn’t greeted with her usual sleepy voice.

“Hi, Papa!” she chirped happily when he opened the door. “I’m all ready!”

“I can see that you are, Widget!” Spike had to laugh. Joy was fully dressed in her travel clothes: jeans and T-shirt topped by a hooded sweatshirt. She’d even put on her own sneakers. Although, he noticed, her shoes were on the wrong feet. “Do you want some help with your hair?”

“Yes! Papa, which barrettes do you think I should wear?”

After deliberating over the relative merits of yellow barrettes with daisies versus pink barrettes with sparkles, Joy decided on plain red ones because they wouldn’t stick up and interfere with her cat mask later on. Then Spike sat behind Joy on her bed to brush her long brown hair into two pig-tails which he fastened with red elastics to match the barrettes. As usual, Joy enjoyed the ritual of having her hair brushed, humming to herself as Spike carefully untangled the knots one by one and then drew the brush through her hair in a deliberate, rhythmic way that was always relaxing.

“Papa,” Joy said, as she stood up to admire Spike’s handiwork in her mirror. “What does ‘sedated’ mean?”

“Sedated? Why do you need to…?” Spike’s voice trailed off as he looked at Joy, first in confusion and then with sudden clarity. “Widget, you’ve been listening to my music haven’t you? I thought that tune you were humming sounded familiar!”

“Yes, Papa, I listen to it all the time,” Joy answered. “Don’t you remember? You made a copy for me. So what does it mean?”

“The bloke who wrote the song was worn out from traveling all over,” Spike began. “I’m not sure I can really explain what the song means,” Spike began, “but sedated means sleepy, like you feel after a bath and a cup of hot milk.”

“That’s so silly, Papa. Who wants to feel sleepy?”

“Well, I don’t’ think the Ramones had four-year olds in mind when they wrote that tune, Widget.”

“Why not? You always say that I’m old enough to rock and roll.”

“And you are!” Spike answered, clipping her last barrette into place. “But punk music is all about the beat, Widg. You don’t need to worry about the words to enjoy it. Now, if you’re satisfied with your coiffure, little one, we should start breakfast. Your Mum is bound to wake up any minute, and she’ll be looking for her coffee.”

Joy smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “You did a good job, Papa. You even got my barrettes straight this time.” Then her expression was suddenly serious. “Can you see me in the mirror, Papa?”

“Yes, Widg, I can see you.” Spike replied. “I can see you and your mischievous grin. What are you…?” Before Spike could finish asking his question Joy leapt into his arms.

Squealing happily, Joy clung to her father as she gazed into the mirror. “So you can see me floating in the air?”

“Yes, I can see you.”

“Can you float me downstairs?”

“Yes, Widget.”

“And after breakfast do we get to go to California to see Auntie Dawnie for Hall’ween?”

“Yes, at 10 o’clock.”

Spike waited for a beat. Silence.

“Any more questions?

“No, that’s all.”

“Good, shall we float then?”


*********

Willow tapped her foot outside the door of the Watchers' Council, holding a cardboard tray full of coffees. She’d long since stopped using magic for trivial things, but she thought wistfully of the “bad old days” as she waited for the elderly doorman to make his way slowly across the wide entry hall to open the door for her.

“Thanks so much,” she said as he ushered her into the vestibule. “My badge is in my purse. I’ll get it for you as soon as I put these down.”

“No need, Ms Rosenberg,” he answered. “I know who you are.”

“Yes, but what if I am using a glamour to disguise my appearance? What if I’m not really who I appear to be?”

He chuckled. “No worries, Miss, you installed powerful wards years ago to detect glamours of that sort. Otherwise I wouldn’t be so foolish as to let you pass without inspecting your ID. Go on up, now. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see those coffees. I gather pub night was particularly festive.”

Willow smiled. “Festive is one way to describe it. It dissolved into the usual competition about who’s faced the nastiest demon while working for the Council. It was torture to keep my mouth shut.”

“Then why didn’t you speak up, Miss?” the doorman asked.

“Because I didn’t want to win again,” she explained. “I’ve purchased more than my share of rounds. I figured I’d let someone else have the honors for a change.”

“Good thinking, Miss. Shall I ring for the lift?”

“Yes, thank you, I’d better get up there. I doubt they’ll accomplish anything until I’ve delivered the caffeine.”

“Right then, Miss. Have a good day.”

As the lift carried her to the eleventh floor, Willow happily recalled the reason she hadn’t arrived at the pub until well after the nastiest demon contest had begun. She’d worked late, again, untangling a mysterious glitch that occurred when some non-human Council staff traveled inter-dimensionally. Solving the puzzle had become a bit of an obsession and she was relieved to finally have an answer. Going to the gathering had felt like a private celebration, because she had yet to tell anyone about her solution. “Shop talk”, with the one exception of near death experiences with nasty demons, is strictly forbidden on pub night. Willow was looking forward to filling her colleagues in on the fruits of her research. She’d also need their help to devise the new protocols that would prevent future problems.

The doors of the lift opened on the eleventh floor and Willow walked down a long corridor lined with books on her way to the Dimensional Travel Division. She stopped briefly in an alcove housing staff mailboxes. Then, juggling her mail and the coffee, turned to start down the hall again. She stopped when she noticed a flashing light on the bulky, nearly antique FAX machine. A moment’s investigation revealed that the machine was out of paper. Several minutes later, she’d refilled the paper tray. Curious now about what had been Faxed, Willow pushed the button to print everything in the machine’s memory. After a lot of whirring and buzzing, the machine spat out two pieces of paper.

Remembering the rapidly cooling coffees, Willow grabbed both Faxes and headed down the hall again. The first FAX was an ad for replacement toner cartridges dated June 14th. She glanced at the second FAX long enough to see that it was an inter-dimensional travel plan and scanned down the page for the travelers names.

“Oh, dear Goddess,” Willow shrieked, as the coffees flew out of her hands.

Tbc…





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