“Do you doubt Spike is the father?” Anya asked, wiping down the glass counter.
“I don't know,” Giles admitted with a shrug. “The blue eyes are a physical give away, and then there are the DNA results. But the fact that he's taken care of this child for almost five months, the way she reaches out to him in times of stress... There is no doubt that he has played a fatherly role. I think at this age an infant would show discomfort and even distrust to a person who has never held him or her before. There's much evidence that Margaret finds comfort in Spike.”
Xander nearly choked on his cruller. “You're actually giving Captain Peroxide the benefit of the doubt? What would Buffy think if she knew something like this was going on, right in her territory? Don't you think she'd be disgusted?”
The Watcher shook his head. “I cannot even begin to imagine how Buffy would feel about all of this. But she's not here, and Margaret is. Whether this was Spike's doing -- which I doubt – or any other assumption we can think of, she is still just a child. Just as a child may be conceived from a tryst, a loveless marriage, or even rape, that child is just a child. I do hope that each and every one of you remind yourselves of that.” A dark look came over his features, and he looked directly at Willow, and then glanced at Xander. “Any harm done to this baby and I will take necessary measures.”
“Whoa, Giles,” the dark haired man cut in, raising his hands in the air. He was indiscreet as he exchanged worried looks with Willow. “Sounding a little possessed there, or I dunno, maybe enthralled?”
Anya slammed her bottle of bleach on the counter. “He's acting like a fucking human being, Xander! Maybe you should try it!”
A tense silence blanketed the group. Anya's hands shook as she knelt on the floor to pick up the fallen spray bottle.
“Things have been uneasy lately, ever since...” Willow shook her head. “Why don't I do a spell? Something that'll clear the air?”
Giles froze. “Willow--”
“Tara and I did a protection spell. You can't do anything to harm us,” the ex-demon deadpanned.
Willow's eyes grew wide. “Tara?”
Tara swallowed, nodding sharply. “I-It's true. You haven't been very rational lately, Willow. We can st-still figure out disagreements without magick. P-Please don't lose sense of yourself.”
Xander stood, nearly knocking over his chair. “You guys are all acting insane!”
“Didn't every one of us act the same way when Dawn was dropped into our lives---when the facade had been lifted?” Giles asked quietly. “Children, get a hold of yourselves. Go home. Stop over-thinking and we will deal with things properly and in due time.”
“I'm going to stay here and count the money,” Anya announced. “It makes me feel better. The store is closed. Everyone else can get out.”
“Ahn--” Xander begged.
She shot him a withering look. “Xander, it hurts to even look at you right now. Have you ever thought that maybe one day we would have children of our own? This is the daughter of your best friend, may she rest peacefully wherever she might be! Do you block it out of your mind everyday who you're engaged to?”
Willow's mouth dropped. “Engaged?”
Anya dropped her head in her hands. “Well, shit.”
“We were going to wait until things calmed down a little,” Xander said quietly.
“Which I found illogical, because we live on a hellmouth and things don't ever just calm down--” Anya ranted.
Xander's face twisted into a grimace. “That's not what I meant, Anya. Buffy died—”
“Almost five months ago! I get it! We're all grieving. But did you ever wonder about how every single thought that passes through your head starts and ends with her? Buffy this and Buffy that! What would Buffy think? Well you know what, she can't give her honest, valued opinion—because she's gone! I can't even compete with a ghost even when I try to make clear my morals, especially about this child! And yes, Xander, I do have morals, despite being an ex-vengeance demon. Not everything is so black and white.” She took a deep breath and huffed. “Don't even say anything. I am so angry with you. It doesn't help that I'm practically thousands of years old but this human body decides for me that it will release icky hormones that make me yell at you and make me leak out my life force and be even more sensitive to your stupid humanity!”
Xander slumped, a pained look on his face.
“Let's go, Xan,” Willow said softly as everyone began to file out of the store and go in separate directions, aside from Anya who stomped her way down into the basement. “Espresso Pump?”
A crestfallen look had settled on his features. “Whatever. Sure,” he sighed.
“Don't worry,” Willow said softly. “I'm sure when we get around to getting Buffy back, she'll be on our side on all of this. Just stinks that we're going to have to bring her back from a hell dimension and toss her into all of this mess.”
Xander sounded as if he'd given up. “You weren't really thinking of using Margaret for the ritual, were you?”
Willow gave him a guilty look. “I did. I... It wasn't right.” She pursed her lips. “I guess I'm just projecting. I'm getting all kinds of heebie jeebies about all of this. And with the way Dawn and Spike and now Giles, Anya, and even Tara are going to such lengths to protect this baby... There's something ominous about all that. I thought Giles would be the last person to even consider it.”
“What if he's doing all of this out of grief?” Xander asked. “However you look at it, we've got... Well, we've got a mini Buffy around. You saw how paternal he was being with her.”
Willow nodded. “Dawn, too. I think it's kind of unhealthy.”
Xander let loose a few tears, wiping them with the back of his hand. “What Anya said... I do do that a lot of the time, you know.”
Willow looked at him. “What?”
“Pretty much deny that for over a thousand years longer than she's been human she was a vengeance demon.” His face crumpled. “God, I feel like I'm one of those bible-thumpers. There's just . . . Something that was ingrained in me when we were introduced to Buffy's calling that right is right and wrong is wrong. Vamp bad, human good. Spell-casted beer bad, bear claws good.”
“I know what you mean,” Willow said softly. “But I still can't help thinking something is really wrong. I gotta figure out a way to have Tara lift the protection spells. It might be for our own good that we identify just where Margaret came from and whether or not she's actually a threat.”
Xander nodded. “Whatever you've got planned, consider me enlisted.” They'd arrived in front of the Espresso Pump. “I think I should go home and grovel.”
Willow's bottom lip quivered. “Me, too.”
~~
It was late in the evening when the phone rang. Willow and Tara had had a tense conversation a couple hours beforehand and were now lying as far as physically possible as they could in Joyce's old queen sized bed. Willow sat up and took the receiver from its cradle.
“Hello?” she asked softly.
“Hi,” Anya said on the other line. “I received the last Urn of Osiris in the mail.”
“Wow,” Willow breathed, feeling a little lightheaded from nerves. “Okay. Let's have a Scooby meeting tomorrow at the Magic Box. We'll have to try to keep Giles out of the store. We should have everything now.”
“What about the vino de madre?” Anya asked.
“I've taken care of it,” she said softly.
“Alright. Eight after closing?”
“Sounds good,” Willow said, hanging up the phone. She glanced at Tara, who looked back at her. She longed to reach out and touch her. “Anya got the last thing we've needed for the spell.”
Tara nodded silently, turning on her side and closing her eyes.
Willow sighed, fingering the Lethe's Bramble she'd had sitting in her palm. She'd bought it with high hopes that it would ease the tension between herself and her lover until she realized that Tara had performed a collective protection spell. It made her feel insecure, helpless, and angry--more so than she had back in high school when she hadn't totally made a reputation for herself as a powerful witch.
Willow sighed and closed her eyes. The least she could do was use her powers to benefit herself, and not at all with any accompanying bad karma. She'd put some agrimony leaves in a sachet under her pillow to promote restful sleep. She wanted to be sure that she was well rested and clear headed for tomorrow evening's meeting.
~~
“Watcher, I was gonna do a quick patrol around Restfield if you could bring Dawn and Margaret over to Revello for a few,” Spike piped up from his perch on a ladder in The Magic Box.
“Of course,” Giles said, offering a polite smile.
The vampire lifted his lips into one of his own. “Thanks. Dawn wanted to spend time with Em at the house. She'll be picking 'er up from Clem's shortly and bringin' 'er here.”
“Clem?” Giles asked curiously.
“Ah,” Spike muttered, shifting uncomfortably, “he's a loose-skinned demon named Clement. Doesn' mean no harm. Watches Margaret while I'm asleep during the day. Been there for us ever since the stork dropped 'er in.” He shrugged his duster on, giving a little wave as he headed for the door. “Thanks again, Rupes.”
Dawn arrived a little after sundown, pushing a stroller. She smiled at Giles. “Hey! Hope you don't mind if we get going now. I have tons of homework and I want to finish it all so I can play with Margarine.”
Giles raised his eyebrows. “Margarine?”
She grinned, nodding. “I like to call her that. She likes it.”
Giles smiled and removed the baby seat from the stroller and buckled Margaret into his backseat. He smiled when she reached for his glasses. Dawn got into the front seat, placing her backpack and the baby's diaper bag on the floor.
When they got to the house, Dawn rushed upstairs while Giles kept Margaret company in the living room. He'd found her small collection of board books in the diaper bag.
Margaret watched in curiosity, cooing. Giles turned his head and smiled. “Any of these your favorite?” he asked.
She reached out her tiny fingers, and Giles came to her on the couch, unstrapping her from her seat. Books in hand, he sat her on his lap, watching as she grabbed for the Fuzzy Baby Animals book.
Giles frowned as he turned the pages for her. “This is preposterous. Ducks don't have fur.”
Margaret giggled, fisting the patch of fur on the page.
They'd gone through all of the books nearly thrice when a knock sounded on the door. Giles cradled Margaret to his shoulder, a swell of affection filling him when she laid her head on his shoulder. He stood, looking through the peephole.
“Hey,” Willow said as he opened the door.
“Willow,” Giles said, surprised, “I'm surprised you're home so late.”
“I-I've actually been studying for a quiz. Things have been really distracting lately so I haven't been my usual studious self,” the redhead said, staring at the baby strangely. She paused. “She really does look like Buffy,” she murmured.
Giles nodded, smiling. “Indeed she does,” he agreed. “Except I think she may have more of an interest in books than my charge did.” He chuckled.
Willow gave a shaky smile. “I'm just getting some study materials from upstairs. I-I'll be right back.”
Giles closed the front door and retook his seat on the couch. Margaret yawned in the crook of his arm.
The redhead returned downstairs with a camel-colored messenger bag. At the foot of the stairs, she made a sudden stop.
Giles looked up, raising his eyebrows. “Forget something?”
Willow's eyes went black. “In frigore!” she commanded.
Time went to a slow crawl, except for Willow, who hurried to the Watcher on the couch. She knelt in front of him and the baby, removing a syringe and glass vial from her purse.
“This isn't magic, so hopefully this means she won't need protecting,” Willow said softly, shakily as she wrapped one of her scarves tightly around the child's wrist. She located a bulging vein close to her thumb, quickly inserting the syringe and slowly pulling blood into the plunger. She took a deep breath as she removed the needle, tying the scarf tightly around the wound to stop the bleeding before she deposited the blood into the vial.
“Sana,” she whispered, Margaret's wrist glowing gold. She tucked a twig of Lethe's Bramble under Giles' couch cushion before backing away to the door. “Eximo!” she cried, restoring time to its normal pace.
Giles shook his head, disoriented. “Willow?”
“Yes?” she whispered fearfully.
“Did you find everything you needed?”
She nodded, swallowing hard. “I did. See you later, Giles.” She left quickly, slamming the door behind her.
Giles looked down at the sleeping Margaret, frowning when he saw the scarf around her wrist.
~~
Willow arrived at the Magic Box, still trembling from her transgression.
“Hey,” Tara said gently. “D-Did you find the vino de madre in the bedroom?”
She nodded. “Yep, we're all good. I left it in the closet for safekeeping but I'd forgotten where. Just took a simple locating spell,” she said, trying to sound as perky as possible.
Xander crossed his arms, his hands noticeably shaking. “So when are we doing this?”
Willow blew out a shaky breath. “Next full moon.” She lowered her eyes. “Next Tuesday.”
--
Writer's notes: Buffy makes her first appearance next chapter. Thanks for all your patience.
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