Just the Truth

 

by Lizerrrbeathan

 

*

(Sequel to Justice Just Us)              

 

 

One

 

*

 

“O.K....what is it?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“What is it, what’s going on?”

 

No reply. Buffy didn’t turn around to look at his non committal non verbal hum, not yet, instead she was distracted by the visage, by the creation, by the creature that was groomed and loomed atop her head.

 

She leaned forward to look more closely at her hair. It was pulled back tight and twisted up into an odd little figure eight with the top cresting over the top of her head..like a...a what? Like the light bulb of an idea going off or something. She scrunched her face up at modern English hairwear.

 

“I can’t believe I let Alexia talk me into this ‘do...more of a...do not....”

 

Spike chuckled and looked over the top of the yellowed newspaper he was reading to look at the thing in question. He caught his breath slightly and never, ever would he ever get used to seeing her, being near her and the sweet softness and shine of her soul seeping into him, calming, softening, smiling, and oh yes he had to smile. It didn’t matter if she wore a tote bag from a convention of plumbers on her head–she was stunning. Her beauty had matured over the years, her cheek bones were more pronounced and her eyes were always in the ever deep. but she had aged only marginally since they had met and some part of him always breathed more than a bit of relief at that and not because it mattered to him what she looked like, but because it eased the ticking of the clock that was always there, always measuring out this blink of a moment on earth with her...because it meant more time...more time.

 

He breathed in the sight of her for a moment, he breathed her in to fill his senses like a spontaneous refreshing drink of cool water and then he sighed slightly as he remembered that he was supposed to be pissed off at her and then went back to his paper.

 

“Hmmm...”

 

Was all he said.

 

“Was that a ‘hmmm or a ‘yumm’–like a yummy sound?”

 

Pause and then:

 

“Hymmm...”

 

Couldn’t help it–even when he was feeling tight with her; he had to play...just couldn’t help it.

 

Buffy lowered her head to hide her growing smile. She was supposed to be perturbed with him...with this mood of his, with his deliberate remoteness all day and now this...this stalling, this dragging of the heels when they should be heading out the door to be the first ones there tonight.

 

He had been behaving all day like a little kid with a big voice booming: ‘but I don’t wanna go to Aunties–her breath SMELLS...I wanna go OUT.’ And so she was supposed to be a little angry with him at him and she had been trying all day to let him know all about it so he would soften first, but when he did something like that out of the blue, when he opened up his heart to look at hers and out pops a classic moment in chocolate and flowers...well, she melted.

 

She was a lucky, lucky woman. She heard her friends complain, oh yes, she heard the rift often enough about the effort of dragging husband, of dragging sweetie into a romantic moment, and begging for just some small display of real affection that wasn’t forced or on schedule with anniversary or birthday and she would force herself to remain silent, to just nod her head and remain mute and all because of moments like the one Spike had just given her. A small sweet moment that could feed her for days.

 

These moments were priceless because he did that kind of thing all the time and without even thinking about it. He did it without calculation or intent--just spontaneous, just pouring from him because he loved her so.

 

She drew in a deep breath and pulled the feel of him into her and filled her senses with his signature sweetness, with the intoxicating energy that was him and she felt him relax a bit behind her. Twenty two years of marriage, thirty years of knowing each other and he still made her heart twitter and yonder bits yearn and lean in his direction. They were a living example that if love was attended to, respected and nurtured it grew, doubled, nay trebled into a triumphal arch to mark the years.

 

She turned away from her dressing table and looked at him sprawled out in one of the two easy chairs they kept side by side next to the fireplace in the master bedroom.

 

He had the paper up over his face and it covered most of his upper body but she could see that he was still in his black jeans and white T shirt. He was no where near ready for the recital.

 

She looked at him, at his feet actually--his toes were making little scrunches in like clenching a fist and then relaxing out, just a little foot fist clench and finger waggle and just what would Freud have to say about the subliminal message of that?

 

He lay there sprawled like an insolent teenager and if not for this small anxiety dance with the toes...she might have thought he was just being sullen.

 

“What is it Spike?”

“Hmmm?”

 

“Why the passive aggressive passion play?” She asked it kindly, but she spoke the truth too because that was the only way to be with each other. There was just no time for anything else ever.

 

He shifted in his chair but said nothing.

 

“This is Tildy’s big night, I know you want to be there...and you know it would hurt her if you didn’t come or if we’re late and so why are you making me drag you into your dress clothes? Cuz, news flash, you may be all about ‘come the revolution’--but guess what? You are not going to your daughters recital dressed like that. Tonight is all about being bigtime card carrying top members of the Bourgeois, babycakes.”

 

To this he rattled the paper and turned a page as if that was his vote and private Norma Rae.

 

She stopped herself here from drawing in her breath and crossing her arms and using the ‘Now see here voice’ that she knew he disliked...well, not exactly disliked...according to him there was nothing about her he disliked and dammit, that might be true, and so maybe this was something she had grown to dislike in herself an so instead she took a note from his book, from the way they had learned to be with each other and so now she stood almost silently and moved softly across the throw rungs on the wood floor (which was a bit of a trick in this tight dress) until she reached him and then she paused for a moment and then sat down on the stool where his feet were doing that squinching thing and she gently stroked the top of one foot and felt the warmth of her hand move into him and she could feel him welcome her. So...o.k., he was being tight but not untouchable. He calmed down, she could feel whatever inner tension gripping him ease a bit and then she grasped both of his feet firmly and pressed firmly but gently, thumb over the middle of the top of each foot and forefinger under the pad of each and pressed until she felt him relax into her and sigh.

 

“Ah Buffy...luv...” He said from behind the paper.

 

“Hmmm?’ She asked softly; half of her attention was on finding the deep thread of the energy running through him..there, there it is--some precious sweet gold and like a bear tapping into honey deep in tree she smiled.

 

“Ah...” There was the sound of his back cracking and then his neck and then he murmured, his voice deep and rough.

 

“Buffy, my love...as much as I love you for that and appreciate it too, if you don’t stop soon you’ll find all your worries about your hair will have been for...naught...as I’d like nothing better than to wrap my fingers in it and tear that dress off...”

 

And then he cocked his head and eyed the bodice of her gown, calculated the tensile strength of the blue stain fortress and offered like a battle plan:

 

“Right down the middle, I think...”

 

She drew in her breath sharply and gripped his feet tight tighter as if that would stop him.

 

“You wouldn’t dare and ‘nought’ what kind of word is ‘nought’? Did you mean nougat? Like in a candy bar? Something sweet?”

 

He laughed and lowered the paper and now they were looking into each others eyes and even though he was still chuckling that look in his eye said he would do it. Oh yes, he would.

 

Her breathing became uneven and she moved her hands from his feet up to his ankles and they simply looked into each other for a long feast.

 

“Much as that sounds...um...”

 

“Fun?” Spike supplied simply.

 

“Uh...”

 

“An up yours for the revolution...” It was crude but he said it softly, lovingly and--

 

“--Damn it, Spike...we had all day to ourselves which is rare enough as you know, to do the yum whatever and now, NOW, you get your motor macho?”

 

He leaned back and looked at her through half slitted eyes.

 

“Must be the new hairdo...and that dress maybe–looks like the juicy bits wanna pop out and you know me...civil servant an’ all; tis my duty to set you free from the unconscionable restraint.”

 

It had been about a week since they had the time to be together like...well that...and so yeah, Buffy was breathing a little hard too, but there was still this unresolved bit of tension between them, there was this buzz of a bee in his bonnet and it flavored their play talk with a bit of a sting and they had both learned long ago to never go to bed angry, and certainly never to have sex when they were even a little pissed off at the other. Sure they could get aggressive in the act...but never with a twitch of something unspoken in the mix. They both ran too hot and fast for that to be anywhere involved and so she had to poke at this thing now until it popped...cuz yeah...she wanted to make love with her husband, but not with this fog in the air between them and the clock ticking besides and so she managed to say.

 

“Can...you just hold onto that thought for the evening...and then we can come straight back and work this out...whatever is going on... ”

 

And with the mentioning of the coming evening he drew a little away from her again and her brow pulled together. So that’s it, is it? Something about tonight.

 

“Spike...seriously, tell me what’s the what? You’ve been tight all day and it isn’t like you to put the mute on the action sequence and now we’re gearing up to a big evening, and I’m getting a more than a little worried, so please...spill...”

 

He sighed and looked down at the paper and shook his head a bit.

 

“I’m...I...” he hesitated and then he said in an even voice: “I don’t like him.”

 

Buffy looked at him...didn’t like who? And she cast her mind around for the new him in their lives and then suddenly it all came together with a clang and she almost smiled...but bit it back.

 

“I saw that...” he accused lightly and then shook his head and added: “--knew you wouldn’t get it...”

 

“Oh I think I do.”

 

“No you don’t.”

 

“Oh yes I do.”

 

“Oh no you...” and then he stopped himself and looked toward heaven as if appeal for intervention.

 

“Our daughter...” Buffy began and then she corrected herself with: “...your daughter, your dear sweet Tildy, the sparkling light in our lives, well, one of the sparkling lights...but this is the first daughter to...have a gentleman caller.”

 

“Humph!” Spike almost barked and then ground out: “Gentleman...caller...” as if that said it all and dang if it didn’t.

 

“He is perfectly presentable...”

 

“Too perfect by halves...”

 

“He is handsome, he has nice manners...”

 

“Huh! Handsome...huh! Smooth...”

 

And dare she say this last?

 

“And Tildy...likes him...”

 

And now Spike gulped and looked up into Buffy’s lovely deep green eyes, so deep they went down into the earth into an almost brown and dare he say it?

 

“It’s more than that...Buffy....I think she loves him.”

 

Buffy’s face become soft and quiet–so Spike had noticed had he? Of course he had. She thought he had been hiding this information from himself--in denial perhaps...but no. Well that was no surprise; not really, Spike liked the truth didn’t he? Almost to a fault some times, but before she could respond he asked softly but with puzzled intent.

 

“Why did you invite him to our table the night? You know I don’t like him–ah, ah! You know I don’t.” He stopped and was now looking into her as if what she had done might be bordering very close to some deep personal betrayal.

 

“Spike...” and here she leaned in and touched his knee. “I think it would be unnatural for a father to not dislike his daughters first real...” Couldn’t say ‘boyfriend’ even though Carl was young he hardly seemed a boy. And besides, what was going on between Tildy and Carl still wasn’t quite clear.

 

“That isn’t it.” Spike said.

 

“Isn’t it?” Buffy asked just as softly. She was trying to keep this light for him, not wanting to hurt him but he held all their children so tight inside his heart, she had often wondered what he would do when they founds mates, especially his girls and he...they...would have to time share.

 

“She is never ever gonna love you less...no one could...” she reached out and stroked his cheek and he pulled back just a bit to say.

 

“That’s not it, Buffy...I don’t think that’s it. I want her to be happy..it’s just, she’s so young...and he is so...smooth...too smooth...”

 

Buffy thought about that, she had learned long ago to trust Spike’s intuition and so her brows drew together and she asked “What are you picking up from him–because I haven’t read anything bad.”

 

“That’s jus’ it. Can’t pick much of anything up can I? He is...” and here Spike shook his head again and said simply. “Smooth...”

 

“Yes we have established that he is smooth–some call it charm.”

 

“Yeah! That’s it...that’s it exactly–he is charming!” Spike said it like a dreadful accusation and now Buffy did bite her lip to keep from smiling and now he did start to pull back and his face went stony and she stopped smiling.

 

“O.K. whoa...whoa–stop, do not go to the fortress...you really are mad aren’t you?”

 

“Seems like we only get to see all the kids all together on Holiday and special occasions these days...and...” here his voice drifted off and he simply stared at her.

 

“You can’t stop life from living...we both know that only too well...”

 

“S’not it. Well, maybe it is in part...but, Buffy my love...why didn’t you ask me first? Feels like you knew what I thought–most always do–and then went ahead and did whatever you want anyway.”

 

He stopped himself from saying that it had seemed like the old way they had been together...that it was the very thing at the center of what had almost blown them apart and what they had worked so hard on understanding and softening. And this thing here, might seem a small thing in the small picture but it was big in the big picture because it had hit that terrible button of dogmatic Buffy knowing best and doing without him.

 

His stomach clenched at the thought of how she had drugged him and locked him up when the twins...when the twins...and now he shook his head–couldn’t finish that thought and so he said.

 

“Didn’t know that feeling was still inside me, I swear I didn’t...but you going on and doing whattal will me or nil me...well, that leads to a dangerous place for us Buffy and so when anything comes near it...well...”

 

He looked up at her now, his eyes soft and searching and asked again.

 

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

 

Oh god, now her stomach clenched. The question seemed too deep, too penetrating and he wasn’t just talking about this, about Tildy’s young man, was he? No...he was asking, after all these years, he was asking her about the other thing...that terrible time. She lowered her gaze as she looked inside herself.

 

Why had she done it? Why? The truth? Because she knew him so well she often felt she needed to protect him from himself, from his own emotions? In so many ways their gender roles were reversed, which worked very well for them and so here and often she felt the need to be the logical one, well, to her it felt like logic, to her it often felt like she needed to be the one to counter his emotional responses with reason and as if he was reading her mind, understanding her soul so well, he said.

 

“Just because I’m feeling something, just because it gets messy...doesn’t mean...it doesn’t have value...doesn’t mean I should be discounted–or that we can’t use what I’m feeling in the mix when making a decision.”

 

Always when Buffy’s emotions were moved she found it difficult to speak, to find the words...and so how in the world could she say she was sorry for doing what she really felt was right? And not this, not this event...but was he really talking about the terrible thing from long ago? Yes he was and many other things like it and they had forgiven each other–they truly had...but still it was there woven into their lives together like a touchstone and a teaching tool.

 

And so now around all the words racing in her mind, ‘round all the things intelligence and mind might supply came the truth and in an almost choking voice Buffy breathed.

 

“I can’t loose you Spike...I can’t. I couldn’t. Just couldn’t...it would have ended me, and worse, losing you would have hurt the world in way I don’t think it could have come back from...I...think it would still end me now...and...your feelings–well, you can be so intense, god knows what you might do....and so maybe I act first sometimes before you do...” And here her voice trailed off and he picked up the thread with:

 

“...Something rash?” Spike asked softly and to this Buffy simply nodded. Spike looked at her for a long moment and then said softly.

 

“You need to let me be meself, my love...you must let me let it out and be wrong or right or somewhere in between but if I’m feeling it, then that is part of us too...and it needs to come out...the emotion of the thing indicates direction. Like a magnet or compass...it means something, else it wouldn’t be there.”

 

“I know that...I do...and god, Spike how can I say I’m sorry for something that I’m not sorry for exactly but I am so sorry happened. You know what it was like..we were together in it...”

 

He was there all right and it was still here with him, with them both. Life went on and they did as well as anyone might hope for them from the outside but on the inside it was a constant shared tragedy that was a part of every waking moment, every prayer and hope and heartbeat and their act of mutual forgiveness bound them together in a way that was exclusive and eternal.

 

“I know luv, I know..and it makes me sad to bring it up, I am...I’ve been wondering all day...why I’ve been feeling so...out with the idea...of him being there with us tonight...of that person being being close to Tildy, coz him being there seems like our nod of approval and I don’t approve, not by any road. And I thought about what you said already...the Father angle...losing my little girl and the...threat of that and maybe that...brought up the other thing...but not in all...”

 

“What do you want...what do you feel right now Spike? What do you need from me?” She asked softly tears welling in her eyes.

 

“Ah love...shh, now...shh...I need you to remember that when I’m feeling something this strong it must be for a good reason–even if I don’t know what that reason is yet.”

 

“And how do I know that if you don’t tell me?”

 

He simply looked at her.

 

“I mean, we know each other and certainly can feel each other but you have been pulling your words away from me recently and please don’t do that.”

 

That was fair enough and true too and see how a mis-communication can fester and grow if not attended.

 

“O.K....alright, that’s fair, and thank you pet, thanks for opening up–I know it can be hard on you. But you still haven’t answered the other question.” and now he asked his voice a little lighter now. “Why did you ask that smooth git to our table the night? Now instead of relaxing and being with me family, I have to resist the urge to go all fang all the time with that, that gentleman. That upper class elitism–all that tut, tut and stretched vowel jaw drop–“

 

“O.K...O.K. I get it...he’s smooth.”

 

“Huh.” Spike snorted the sound but said nothing else and instead watched her and waited for her to think it out.

 

“I asked him to come...because Tildy asked me to. She asked me to ask him...and you know how proud she is...she would never want to use her family...name or position...she is always trying so hard to be herself first...they all are...but she, well, it seems she struggles the most...and...” And here Buffy’s voice wound down as she looked inside herself and said simply.

 

“I think I asked him because she wanted it and I didn’t ask you because I guess I’d know you’d say no...and...” And here she paused as she felt it out. “The kids all love you...it is so easy between you all...no, no I know they love me too and you know how much I love them...but I don’t always know if they can feel how much I love them–“

 

“They can pet, they do–“

 

“Shh now, you got me going, so lemme finish this when I can–maybe I did it, I might have done it to please her, Spike, to make her happy. So maybe I shut out the rest of what that might mean.”

 

Pause and then he asked softly.

 

“Ah...so...you made an emotional decision then? I think I like that.”

 

She looked up quickly but his face, his eyes were so soft she fell into them.

 

“I’m sorry, I am...I don’t think I was completely aware...but I think I was doing it more to please Tildy...to show her I loved her...than to control you...it might have been mixed up in it...but I don’t think it was the main thing...”

 

Spike simply nodded and then reached over and took her hand and there it was, that smooth honey gold love flowing between them that could heal every wound, every hurt and only the truth and courage and the faith they had in each other in long standing could let this healing happen so quickly.

 

That sat there for a moment letting the flow move sweetly through the other binding them once again into a common purpose. Love alive on earth.

 

As his calm support moved through her, it gave Buffy a chance to think a little more about the evening ahead and yes they both had been looking forward to this for a long time...seeing all the kids all around the table and clamoring in the house again. It would be wonderful...waking up to have breakfast with each other...wonderful...

 

It was a family outing...an important night...Paul and Alexia would be there and Sol was flying in and might not make it to the performance but should be there for the reception...and it was...damn it. Spike was right. Damn it! All the family would be back together for the first time since Christmas and tonight was about family and she had brought Carl Rigstachdt, a stranger really, into the initial reunion and all because she had wanted to please her daughter. Sometimes she felt she had been over strict with them or emotionally remote...since the twins and--

 

“Oh...god Spike, did I make a mistake? This is a family night...it’s just she wanted it so bad...and...” She looked up and he saw this concern ran very deep inside her. To love her children to let them know they were loved and safe and always, always do the right thing. Well...what was the right thing exactly? There was what happened and being as honest as one could and she was, she was and so where was the real mistake?

 

Did she love her children so much she might be capable of letting them have the thing that might be bad for them? And every parent wanted to gift the child, to ease the way in the world and at the same time walk the line of letting them walk for themselves. Buffy was honest and true and now that he understood what she had been thinking, what she had been feeling, well...he could empathize with her.

 

“Not..mistake, per se...but you know how it is—every little bump is a wake up call of sorts and so we work it out when it’s small, but not a mistake per se, no pet...just...well...we’ve known each other so long and through heaven and hell and so maybe we think we know all the workings of each other all the time...and while that is true in the main...not in the all...and so I see why you did what you did, and seeing it was...well, an emotional decision..I’m inclined to not call it a mistake, I have to trust what you’re feeling too, as I suspect that goes both ways so let’s wait an see where it leads us the night...something interesting might happen.”

 

Buffy looked down and drew in a breath and shook her head and said.

 

“O.K., it’s done...but I’ll watch that in the future...”

 

“I know pet, and truth spoken as long as you’re stretched out on the rack I may as well join you and confess...I could have been..less...”

 

“Obtuse?”

 

“Well...”

 

“Inscrutable?”

 

“Hmm..I was thinking, purblind...”

 

“Showoff...”

 

“Always...” and here he leaned forward and kissed her so softly she had to lean into him to get more.

 

He leaned back chuckling.

 

“What? What’s this? You might muss me hair.”

 

“No one else but me is gonna be seeing the hairs I wanna muss...”

 

He choked and laughed and grabbed her around the waist and pulled her onto his lap while she gabbled:

 

“Right? Right? Mr. Purblind...let’s just see how purblind you can stay when I do this...”

 

She was doing a throaty laugh now and she was funny--no one knew how funny she could be during sex and Spike loved that, both his singular knowledge and the fact of it and so now he squeezed her until she squealed and then she leaned back and was pawing at the zipper of his jeans as she mused lightly:

 

“No one sees the purblind short hairs but me...”

 

“Always..forever...” He laughed and his eyes were sweet and moist and she leaned in and kissed him, drank him in until the laugh cross faded into a panting, moaning and he was gripping her waist, her hips and she was saying breathlessly.

 

“Shhh...right here, on the chair...I’ll be fast..I’ll just borrow this for a little while--you won’t even know where it went...”

 

And then she raised herself a bit to give her the space to insert the head of his erect member up and into the flower of her.

 

“That’s...ah...god Buffy...oh god...” he moaned as she pressed herself hard and fast down around him sealing the deal and him too inside her...

 

“You won’t even know....ah...oh, oh God..um...where it went...”

 

She breathed and bit her lower lip as she pushed down harder until their flesh met. She loved, loved the size and feel and girth of him inside her filling up all the spaces that cried empty without you. She would never, ever tell him this, but had she fallen in love with this first? Had she fallen in love with the size and shape of him first? Being a guy, he would probably love to hear that, but being Spike, he might not and so she loved that too...the contradiction and so had it been his erect member inside her or had it been his eyes or no his heart, absolutely his heart...or...he bucked up hard into her and she stifled a sharp moan and then leaned her head down to kiss him breathless as she repeated:

 

“...So fast...um...ah...you won’t even know where it went...”

 

”God...oh god...now...now...that’s...that’s....unlikely...” He managed between breaths and kisses and then she gripped him tight and kissed him hard to keep his moan inside her mouth. To keep him all to herself. For just a little while longer. Damn, they were going to be late.

 

But better.

 

*

 

Two

 

*

 

Xander Harris would not pace, oh no he would not.

 

He might glance at his watch once more, once again, take a deep breath, squint his eyes at

the street, at the curb side of the drive up to the conservatory, he might mutter and shake his head even. But he would not pace. Simply had to draw the line somewhere.

 

They were late.

 

And in the ordinary context of things it might be considered inconvenient and a fret to Tildy and Alexia if they were an ordinary family but they were not.

 

As the first and second president of the World Peace Council, they had created a framework for a new system of world government to exists in harmony with each other in a real way and they were beyond the pale of ordinary imagination by now and heroic in stature to a great deal of the world and where often that kind of image might be distorted for purpose of propaganda, he knew in a first hand way and from way back to the beginning that it was not. Distorted that is. They were heros in every way that mattered public and private in a mad world. And so, in short, when they showed up together in public and at a formal do it was a very big deal and still a security risk. Even now, with Spike out of office now for several years and on the philanthropic side of the world works–not to mention the detective work they still both did in private–Vampire and Slayer and world leaders were still a temptation to those who wanted the world to fall back and back and into the dark and just where in the hell were they?

 

Buffy knew better of course and so this had to be about Spike. Xander was sure this was about Spike. Spike and his loose cannon unpredictable way and damn it if Xander didn’t think the Vampire threw a wrench into the works sometimes just to hear the clang.

 

And ordinarily Xander wouldn’t have worried overmuch–but this was about Tildy and it seemed unlikely that either of them would do anything to spoil the evening...to, god forbid, hold the curtain for them, because they would, oh yes the house would hold the curtain because there was no way the conservatory was going to begin the recital without two of the star guests in the house and of course this put added pressure on Tildy and because it seemed so unlike them to increase the pressure on their already taxed family–Xander was worried.

 

He punched the speed dial to Spike’s phone, nothing...then Buffy’s, nada and then to Margie the Slayer riding shotgun with Gamma the limo driver. Both were Slayers of course and there were two slayers assigned to each of the children for the length of their stay in the city while in public and that’s just the way it was gonna be per Xander Harris Security Advisor and with Vi’s agreement. Margie was one of Vi’s most trusted protegees’s because anything less and Buffy and Spike would have eaten her up as a table scrap and why wasn’t she answering.?

 

Cell phone dead zone? He would give them two more minutes just two, before he called in the connection to the satellites and an a number three alert.

 

Just then he saw Alxia poised on the inside of the building behind the glass door looking out on the street. Her dark hair was pulled back and piled atop her head for the evening and so it was easy to see her tight, worried expression. She had the small delicate features of a china doll and of the four children, she most resembled Buffy. She was the youngest of the four children but held much of the responsibility of the political future of the family in her small hands. She reminded him somewhat of Buffy at that age, not only in the cast of her features but in the strength of her will. She was sixteen...so young, but with a will of iron. Well maybe Alexia didn’t have Buffy’s will–who could? Only Spike could match Buffy’s will. But Alexia was playing in the same game as her parents and now she seemed to be looking as concerned as Xander felt.

 

He caught her eye and her face broke into a wide and unforced delighted smile. She opened the door to step out into the night, beaming at him as he called out:

 

“Alex–“

 

“–Xander!” She finished on an exclamation point that was their own private joke in club Alexander because neither one wanted the burden and temptation of the full name and so they broke it down into halves.

 

She fairly leapt into his arms and he hugged her hard. She was still like a child in so many ways and oh it was hard to watch her grow up so fast. How did Buffy and Spike bear it?

 

With his and Vi’s children growing so quickly themselves eight and nine years old now and looking at Alexia–he could see how fast that could happen. Well if Beatrice and Theo turned out half as well as Buffy and Spike’s brood–he would be so, so happy.

 

He hugged her hard and then pushed her back to ask so softly only her ears could hear.

 

“Where are they?”

 

Alexia looked around as if they might have materialized in thin air in the moment she had greeted her favorite uncle–which, given the family ways, wasn’t entirely impossible.

 

“Dunno...I left the house hours and hours ago to stay with Tildy....boy, those musician types are real creeps...I dunno how she takes that crap without smacking a few cello backsides–“

 

“As much as I want to catch up–Alexia...I’m, I’m concerned about your Mom and Dad–they should have been here almost forty five minutes ago.”

 

“Yeah, I know...all I can say is they better get here before curtain or I will never let them hear the end of it, oh no, I will not. Imagine putting Tildy in this position.”

 

“She doesn’t know does she?”

 

“God no–I mean, I hope not. But if they have to hold the house and somebody starts complaining about the reason why...but you know what? So what? If they can’t hold the house for my Mom and Dad–fuck em.”

 

“What?”

 

“Oh, they can all just sod off...”

 

Xander drew in a breath and to keep himself from smiling at the brazen words she wouldn’t dare to say in her parents presence regardless of how often Spike set the pace and example–he took her elbow and led her a few feet down the stairs and away from wondering, wandering ears.

 

“That is only part of it–I’m going three alert if they don’t get here or I hear from them in...”

 

He looked at his watch.

 

“About one minute from now.”

 

“Oh now, Uncle Xander don’t...they are all right...and they would feel awful if you had to do that–“

 

“--I would feel awful doing it and even worse if it’s needed–“

 

“–They’re O.K....I...I know it, I would know if something was wrong, I think we all would.”

 

But then she bit her lower lip and that small worried gesture seemed to diminish her point dramatically.

 

“They are just running late, that’s all.”

 

Just then Xander and Alexia’s cell phone’s chirped almost simultaneously.

 

As Xander’s was in his hand, he was on line first while Alexia reached into her small clutch purse.

 

“Yes.” Xander said calmly.

 

“Hey Xander...”

 

It was Buffy. Xander let out a deep breath...it was Buffy.

“Buffy. Should I be relieved or punching an alert button?”

 

“Sorry..so, so sorry...” Buffy was saying and as he was turning to nod at Alexia, he heard her greeting the person on the other end of her phone.

 

“Dad? WHERE are you? I hope you know what night it is an’ all. What? You order out for pizza and were just kicking it back to watch Kurosawa’s The Shadow Warrior for the fourth time? Nothing much going on the night, right?”

 

Xander winced as Alexia laid into Spike–the concern she had been hiding was now evident in her overreaction.

 

“--Hey, I’ll get sarcastic if the situation warrants it–“ Alexia was almost shouting.

 

Meanwhile Buffy was talking in his ear.

 

“We were caught in a dead zone–phones just wouldn’t work–I was getting ready to do the mind to mind thing–is that Alexia yelling at her Father? Don’t let her yell at her Father, wait, put her on...”

 

“Buffy--”

 

“--We’ll be there in a quick minute–hand me to Alexia you can talk with Spike.”

 

“Alexia, your Mother wants to talk with you, here, switch with me, I need to talk to your Dad.”

 

Alexia paused in mid rant, drew in a breath, sighed and then handed her purple phone to Xander and he in turn gave her his slim silver one.

 

“Hi Mom?” Alexia asked softly, quickly morphing into meek, sweet daughter. “No I wasn’t yelling at Dad...but it’s probably his fault...oh...oh...yeah, it is a tricky hairstyle–oh, so this is my fault?”

 

Xander stepped away from her and back up the steps but with his eye still on the street...just in case. Always, always, just in case.

 

“Spike.” Xander said brightly. “Just because you don’t have blood pressure is no reason to play with everyone’s elses’.”

 

“Funny, Harris...and for the record...it is my fault, regardless of what Buffy is telling Alexia...but something needed to get worked out.”

 

Pause and then Xander said.

 

“Alright...just please call me before you leave the house next time if you think you are running late somewhere...”

 

He could feel Spike begin to voice a protest and then stop himself and say briefly.

 

“Right. You’re right.”

 

“I’m sorry what was that?”

 

“You want to drag this out?”

 

“No, no, I simply could not believe what I heard.”

 

“I said, you’re right...you’ve a lot on your plate and you and Vi have more to worry about than the whereabouts of the likes of we lot. We will all make it easier on you in the future.”

 

“Ah...well, thanks Spike, that’s appreciated. ” Xander held the phone away from his ear and stared at it as if it were an alien device spouting star squawks. That must have been some little thing that got worked out to alter an elemental Spike trait so completely...or...

 

“Harris, you there?”

 

“Don’t take this the wrong way Spike, but given the situation of the evening and the situation in general–“

 

“You wanna know if it’s really me? ” Xander could hear the controlled laughter behind Spike’s words.

 

“Given the current state of technology and the ease of manufactured voices, not to mention messy, inconvenient body swaps--yeah, code word please.”

 

Slight pause and then.

 

“Saints Say Beth and Elle” Spike said and his voice was soft and even and an almost invocation.

 

A soft sweet shiver rippled from Xanders ear to his heart at the sound of the little girls names spoken aloud and he nodded.

 

“Hey Spike.”

 

“Hey Xander...” there was a pause as they both tasted the sparkling light the invocation created and then Spike said apropos of nothing. “...found something interesting in the news today. Old news...actually...”

 

“Oh yeah? Don’t mention it over the air–“

 

“No, we’ll talk later...” Spike agreed

 

“Yeah...look I gotta go...seems a couple of late arrival state dignitary hot shots just pulled up in the councils rented limo.”

 

“Pain in the ass royals?”

 

“Nah, worse...”

 

“Ah.. well...that can only mean--.”

 

And here Xander’s attention swung to the black limo as the passenger door swung open on the curb side and out stepped Spike as he snapped his phone shut.

 

“--Us.” He finished brightly.

 

“The one and only pain in my ass.”

 

“Well, at least we have a monogamous relationship Harris.”

 

“I walked right into that didn’t I?”

 

Instead of answering, Spike smiled sweetly and stepped back to help his wife out of the car.

 

Alexia and Xander stepped back on automatic reverence to look and indeed it was something akin to watching royalty emerge.

 

Her golden hair twisted high to reveal her long neck and bright brimming eyes and bare shoulders over a deep dark blue satin gown and Xander had to repress a whistle. Alexia clapped her hands and exclaimed:

 

“Mom! Mom! You are throw down gorgeous! If you are late because of the hair do--it is so absolutely worth it–and I get the cred for it, not the blame.”

 

“Absolutely, honey, oh you look so beautiful, here turn around...oh, god Spike, look at her.”

 

He was shaking his head but and all he could say was.

 

“You look lovely, cabbage...”

 

Alexia stopped spinning and came over to kiss him on the cheek.

 

“You look handsome Dad, you both look great. Now can we get going?”

 

“Where is Paul?” Spike asked.

 

“He’s inside hob nobbing–he says you’ll get here when you get here and everybody can just wait and Sol hasn’t arrived yet, but the plane is on time, so he should be here soon and Uncle Xander and I are the only ones worrying and watching your backs–“

 

“Ta Hinny..” Spike said softly.

 

Pause and then Alexia said softly; “You’re welcome.”

 

“Is that for me too?” Xander asked innocently

 

“Yes Hinny... “ Buffy said sweetly as she took Xander’s arm and they all walked up the steps and into the Theatre together.

 

*

 

Three

 

*

Tildy looked at her reflection in the make-up mirror.

 

Five minutes before curtain and everyone else had left and were pacing the halls or waiting in the wings or the green room, but she, Matilda the Tildy (As Da sung out) was still in the make-up room looking at herself in the mirror and wondering about her hair color. Her hair color of all things. Talking about locking the barn after the horses have been stolen.

 

She gently touched the side of the dark blonde hair pulled back in a bun and sighed. Maybe she should have lightened it...or put some brighter blonde streaks in–but no, she had vetoed that because Mom had the bright blonde bird exotica stuffed, mounted and in a coveted place in world LEGEND, for goodness sake and not because her Mother was competitive with her children, she definitely was not; but because, Tildy admitted to herself, going blonder would put Tildy in a terrible place for comparison. It was Tildy who was the competitive one, albeit on the secret side, and to her credit, she knew it.

 

She believed she would look like she was trying to glom on to Mom’s image and never even come close to the mark and so she didn’t even want to try and she didn’t go darker either, because that was Alexia’s terrain...what with her white, bright flawless skin, dark eyes and dark brown hair.

 

Mom said, Alexia was a throw back to Aunt Dawn and the dark looks come from Grandpa Summers side of the family tree...course Dad never mentioned his side much. But Dad had dark blonde hair (like hers and Paul) and Sol was ever bright in blonde but that was O.K. because he was a boy and looking like Mom would be a joy to him and not a burden. (Oh yeah, she had read Freud). Alexia was the only dark one in the family and so even if there were no photos from Da’s long ago familial connection (though she knew Paul was doing research on that–for the private book for the family) it seemed there was more than enough of the Nordic there to keep the blonde alive but what actually came through from his side was anybody’s guess, because he wasn’t telling.

 

Demon seed, demon seed, Tiiildeeey is a demon weed...

 

That terrible, terrible taunt, that way children could have of terrorizing each other with a wild shot that accidently hit a place that went right into viscera. And gut wounds were the worst to heal (or so said Mom) And didn’t Tildy know it? Didn’t her brothers and her sister and herself know that?

 

The kids that had taunted them hadn’t known what they were saying...Tildy hadn’t known either...all she knew was that it hurt. The way they said it...hurt.

 

And she had held in the pain, held back the tears and would never let Tommy Tweedlebutt (that’s what Sol had called him) know he had hit her so hard, so deep inside.

 

And sure it could have been worse, if they hadn’t had the home life they had, it could have become unbearable, but she and her brothers and sister were raised with such love, it poured from her Mom and Dad into them all and most times the healing power of it balanced the occasional open assault and common sidelong acid glance that would have certainly bred a paranoid brood in a less stable household.

 

But love was a tangible thing in their home and so back then and even to this day certain of their friends, the real ones, had loved to come and stay and hang out, or just because, well maybe because the place always felt so fine. The air so light. There was never any doubt that her parents loved each other and there was never any fear about the family breaking up, not the way many of their friends–(who even knew both parents); were always afraid, and not the way so many kids were always on edge and just waiting for the boot and the kick to the curb.

 

So many of their friends were afraid and often for good reason and while Tildy was never afraid that her parents would leave each other, she had other fears. In a word: rejection. Rejection in the world, from her peers...ah well...everybody’ got something.

 

Paul laughed it off–said the whispers were jealous, that’s what and maybe that was true too, because who didn’t want to be around loving people? Who didn’t want to live in a happy laughing home? Everyone wanted that, everyone. And so Tildy should be happy, should be grateful for this stunning gift and she was also aware that this need to please the public and not herself was an indication of a possibly grave deficit in her character but just what could she do about it? It seemed as if she had always been this way and now she loved this old school, it’s ancient traditions, it’s clubs and being part of something large and stretching back into history. Most of her friends had a family crest and a butler and oh this was stupid. Would she trade Da and Ma for any of that? No she would not...so what was this really about?.

 

Even though she was here on a scholarship program–few people knew about that and so she had often been pointed out as the local curiosity, the spawn of her parents celebrity, the token at the university to ease the anti demon criticism. She was aware that many here thought of her as the ultimate PC concession. Da and Mom had said she could leave anytime, find another school...but she wanted this school...she wanted the best school...because she...she wanted...she wanted...something large and nameless...and gleaming, something bright and terrible and wonderful too and it was something still just beyond her imagination but it had something to do with being the best she could possible be and so that meant being here...being among these people, the best in the country or so they thought and dammit if their own good opinion of themselves didn’t influence her mind.

 

Thank god, she had her Mom and Dad to balance the equation out, she was young but self aware enough to recognize that. To see Da always work to whittle the Sirs and such down to seeing them in their underwear. But didn’t she resent that a bit too? Them standing in the way of her vision of herself crowned and castled? It was her parents perfection that opposed her, it was their love that kept the world real and constantly smashing the fantasy of royal entitlement. A Vampire, an en-souled demon and The Slayer. The story, no, the reality of them broke the piggy bank of every institution that endeavored to keep people in their place.

 

According to Ma and Da–there were no ‘places’ and you can have everything you want in life. And with their living example in your face it was hard to sit and sulk about how things couldn’t happen.

 

It was how much they loved each other and their family and friends and the world too that did several things at once. It gave them all the hint and headstart that love could and did conquer every obstacle. It made them all think that anything was possible, that they could do anything with their lives they wanted and so at the same time, fantasy was demolished and put in direct proportion with the hard work of getting it done. Why fantasize when you can have the real thing? And the real thing meant hard work. Joyful work too, but still getting down and into it...Mom and Dad had always emphasized that you could not reach the goal unless you started stepping and weren’t they the collector’s special issue postage stamp this past year? Oh yes, they were.

 

Tildy patted her hair again and sighed.

 

Sure her parents had disagreements, they were both strong minded valiant spirits, and so of course there had been the occasional raised voice in exacerbation. But they never fought openly, (except for that once) never turned on each, never played the mind games Tildy had learned that other people, out there in the world, played. And so she and her siblings had been well fortified to walk out into the world, as emotionally secure as such a home could provide and they knew of course about Dad as a vampire, as a demon with a soul and they had been instructed as to the distinctions, the strata of angels and demons and we souls walking the earth so they would not grow up thinking all demons were like Dad.

 

But the words didn’t mean anything, not back then, because Dad was...well, Da and Da was great.

 

Da was funny and gave great warm hugs and was always there with an open ear and the kind of good advice that actually worked so well their friends often sought him out and asked after him. ‘How’s yer Da?’ Oh he’s fine, he’s great. Da is great. ‘Can I come over after to see him an’ all?’ Oh aye...sure...and did they come to see her and her brothers and sister or Da and Ma? The immediate family weren’t the only ones that loved to watch her parents, that lived to drink in glow of them like a portable torch they could carry into the world to see where they were going and wasn’t that true? Isn’t that how it works?

 

Because living in the home, in the bosom of being able to see Mom look at Dad like that when he washed the dishes or something and then come up behind him and kiss his neck until he purred...well, that was all just home life. And it was fine.

 

Out in the world is where it got challenged. And so if her parents were instrumental in drawing friends into their lives weren’t they also at the hub and apex of the other thing? And with both examples of good friends and bad companions, why, why, why did Tildy focus on the ones who didn’t want to accept her?

 

Demon seed...demon weeeeed...

 

Ah...childhood...the power of what happens during childhood shapes a life and that is that.

 

Demon seed, demon seed, Tiiiildy is a demon weeeeed....

 

Tildy would have blown Tommy Tweedlebutt and his buddies and what he said about her and her sister and brothers out her mind except for one thing. She had a crush on him. Her secret was, she liked Tommy Tweedlebutt and so when Sol went running at him and tackled him to the ground to beat the tar out him for throwing black paint on little Alexia, it was Tildy who pulled Sol off Tommy crying.

 

‘Ooohh eeeh! Our Sol! Give over, give over!” And she had fallen on Sol’s back pulling, and pulling and pounding him a little too until Paul had arrived in the nick of it all to pick them up from school, he had come with two of the ‘Big Girls’ as the kids called them and that, as they say, was the end of that.

 

In the car on the drive home Sol had turned to Tildy and asked her loudly but his eyes were soft in the way he got when he was puzzled or scared or hurt and asked.

 

“Why did you go for me, our Tildy? Din’t you see what that pissant threw on our Alexia? Made her cry, he did, she loves that blue dress, din’t you see her hopping about the house in it all day yesterday–couldn’t wait to wear it and that, that tweedelbutt does that–“

 

“Good for you our Sol, good on you.” Said Paul firmly from the front seat.

 

“Why Tildy, why did you go for me?” Sol asked again and then Tildy remembered the car going dead quiet like before a storm and, and she didn’t know ‘why’ back then, she didn’t understand herself enough to know the whole or the part of and so she said tightly.

 

“Not supposed to fight.”

 

Silence.

 

“Ma and Da said not to touch anybody if they call us names...they said it....”

 

“Sure...but this is different...right Paul?”

 

Paul looked over the seat at his younger brother and pushed his hand through his blonde hair and agreed.

 

“Oh aye, it is ‘an all–right you are, coz some things are beyond the pale.”

 

“Mom’s not gonna like it–she’s gonna be mad.” Tildy had insisted.

 

Silence as they all thought about that and then Alexia began to cry softly and not in the obvious out loud way either, like she did sometimes in her ‘boo hoo’ voice to get attention and so Tildy knew it was real.

 

It was hard little sounds, like it hurt her to make them.

 

Her little hands were patting the black paint...drying now on the front of her blue dress and her face had puckered up tight and finally she couldn’t hold the loss of it in anymore and she had begun to cry.

 

“Bloody hell...” Paul muttered

 

And so startled were they by the pain and depth of Alexia’s sobbing into hiccuping that no one said anything to Paul about using the bad words.

 

Mom and Dad had a bad fight that night. A very bad fight.

 

And because they never fought, at least, not loud enough to hear, or for them to know, it loomed large in all their minds and for all their lives. One of the few fights Tildy ever remembered them having.

 

Mom had wanted to pull them out of the school right away, just take them away from a place that couldn’t supervise the schoolyard...she had wanted to go down there and ‘smack somebody’ and Tildy couldn’t remember her Dad’s response but she guessed that it had been something along the lines of ‘they all can’t live in castle with a moat around it could they? Not for the rest of their lives?’

 

‘Why not?’ Mom had hollered so loud it had shaken the house to silence.

 

The kids had been huddled upstairs all together in Paul’s room where he had turned the telly on to distract them–but who was he kidding? No one wanted to watch Monty Python, not when Mom and Dad were fighting and all because of Sol. Sol jumping on Tommy, no that wasn’t right, because of Tommy throwing that black paint on little Alexia and calling her:

 

‘Demon seed, demon weed...”

 

Yes that’s what he had said, it had been terrible and still Tildy had went for Sol to help Tommy. She had. Didn’t make any sense and now Mom and Dad were fighting in a way they had never, ever heard before or ever would again.

 

Mom was yelling about moving to America and Tildy didn’t want to move to America, she liked it here...and Dad said something like ‘fine, we all can go to the states but we still have to go to school somewhere’–and then her Mom had screamed at her Da:

 

“I’M SCARED OUT OF MY MIND EVERY TIME THEY LEAVE THE HOUSE, SPIKE! Don’t you understand that? Didn’t you see what that, that monster did to my baby? Don’t you understand what that means? What poison is in their heads? It was like seeing them all get bit by a snake–putting that terrible thought into my babies! Please Spike, don’t you know that I can barely let them go out the door every day and now if I have to build a wall around us and keep them locked in–that’s what we have to do....I can’t...I can’t...”

 

And here their Mom, their calm, even tempered, wise, laughing, everbright broke down into sobs so heartbreaking all the kids rose to their feet and unthinking headed toward the sound.

 

Children can’t bear to hear the sound of their Mother’s heart breaking and by the time they got to the landing they heard their Da crying too, crying and crooning softly and saying things like:

 

“Ah Buffy, ah my love...my love....shhh...shhh...I know lamb, I know...”

 

And when Tildy had gotten to the staircase they all looked out between the rungs of the staircase beneath the banister and watched their Da hold their Ma in his lap there on the floor and he was stroking her hair and kissing her head and rocking her in his arms and saying:

 

“It’s all right...lass, it is as you say...we’ll do as you say...shhh....shhh....love you Buffy...shhh...’tis all right...shhh...”

 

And then as if of one mind they all stopped at the same time and watched and even though Mom was crying in a most terrible way, like her whole body hurt her and she was shaking in Dad’s arms too...and they were gonna get pulled out of school...even though it seemed like it was the end of their world just a moment ago–it was gonna be all right now...because they weren’t yelling at each other anymore.

 

Mom and Dad loved each other again and Tildy knew then, that was the only thing she wanted in the whole world–was for Mom and Dad to love each other always.

 

Paul had herded them back up the stairs, but Tildy had lingered at the top of the stars looking down at them there still on the floor...and somehow being on the floor made the whole thing even bigger in her child’s mind if that was possible.

 

Sitting on the floor.

 

*

 

They had gone back to Paul’s room and strangely Paul now turned the telly off and Tildy, Sol and Alexia sat on the day bed, backs up against the pillows while Paul read to them. He read this wonderful book about a wolf, a magnificent wolf and years later Tildy had realized that it was: ‘The Call of the Wild.’

 

Years later she had wondered about Paul selecting that particular story to read to them that night. Paul was special, Paul was deep, our Paul. So Paul had read to them because they still felt the need to stay together and hadn’t wanted to split up into their bedrooms yet. Alexia and Tildy slept in the same room...mostly because they liked it that way and even though Paul being a few years older than Sol and so liked having his own room, there was this extra day bed up against the wall for Sol to come sleep, when he got lonely or scared, in the deep night and, yeah, he was too big a boy to go into Ma and Da’s room...but not too big for brothers.

 

Mom and Dad never came up to their upstairs bedroom that night. And they still hadn’t had their tea yet or supper either and even Paul was too scared to go downstairs–not coz they were scared of their parents; but of breaking the peace. The sweet peace that comes after yelling and hard voices throwing hard thoughts. Like a miracle flower falling from the sky no one wanted to walk near it for fear of treading upon it.

 

Tildy guessed that Mom and Dad must have stayed in the guest room downstairs so the kids wouldn’t hear Mom crying. But Dad came up an hour later or so...quietly tapped on Paul’s door and then pushed it open with his foot. He entered quietly carrying a large tray of sandwiches, chips and milk. Paul pulled the table aside and then Dad placed the tray on the floor. ‘Picnic style’ he said or something like it. And when he and Paul quietly handed out the plates of food and napkins and all, Tildy snuck a look into his face and noted his swollen red eyes.

 

Dad had been weeping too and somehow the sight and feeling of their Dad, their Dad hero strong and super fast, their Da, ready with a joke that could make you laugh so hard you peed a little in your pants, their Da who was top drawer at solving every squabble, every problem with equanimity and wisdom, somehow the sight of his dry red puffed eyes and solemn face hit as hard as Mom’s deep broken sobbing. It was the same pain. Come from the same place...and what one felt was shared by the other and so they were never alone in anything.

 

It was then, when Tildy truly, deeply understood how much her Mom and Dad loved each other.

 

They loved their kids, she knew she was loved, they felt it, they all knew it to be a real thing, an alive thing, and a precious thing...but Ma and Da were bound up first and foremost in each other. And if anything came close to being a deep flaw in the family, ironically, that might be it.

 

But as the years went by and as she understood more and more of her parents shared history, how could it be any other way? But living with the evidence, with the reality of such love made them all and certainly Tildy herself...want something like that for herself.

 

To look for it. Live for it. Long for it.

 

And so now here she was in front of the mirror judging herself and finding herself lacking until she had to laugh. Just what was she doing to herself? Because she was doing it to herself wasn’t she? People can call me names, there were ghosts from the past, there were scrapes and bruises but as her Da would say; there are no victims, only volunteers.

 

She closed her eyes to find the deep place, the sweet space, the reason, the feeling behind the music, to find the beginning of why she wanted to play and there...there it was...

 

Music was her way of bringing something of what her parents had given to her out and into the world to share. People could be cruel, and people could call you names and throw paint...but not one of them...not one of them would ever, never do anything like that to anyone...if they had been loved just a little like how her Ma and Da loved them all. Now she could live with that treasure in silence or opt to share it as best she could. To help spread it around. If only she could ring the bell of that a bit and make it sound anything like what it felt like to be around her Ma and Da when they hugged each other...oh dear god, that was it...that’s what it’s all about.

 

She wanted to ring that bell.

 

And besides

 

She was Tildy Summers(secret surname)Ashley-Pitt; she was the daughter of Elizabeth and William, Buffy and Spike and fuck ‘em all if they can’t take a joke.

 

Oh this was funny, she was weeping a little...and were they happy or sad tears? So much depended on how she performed tonight or did it? Ma and Da and Paul and Sol and Alexia and maybe even Carl would love her no matter what and so what terrible thing could touch her?

 

She laughed and wiped her eyes and never mind the mascara and then she went out to wait in the wings, for her moment at the end of the program.

*

 

Four

 

*

 

It was half way through the first presentation...a cellist in quartet, playing Mozart when the air shifted slightly and both Spike and Buffy felt it at the same time.

 

Like a slight draft of dry sweet grass or summer flowers perhaps and they both turned to each other and smiled. They took each others hand Buffy was suddenly so filled with a bubble of happiness she had to express it. She leaned forward and kissed Spike on the cheek. She felt the slow soft thing grow between them as it did when they touched and they both sighed and relaxed back into their chairs to enjoy the music and soon as it as finished and the applause begun the turned to each other and said at the same time.

 

“Sol is here...”

 

“Where is he exactly?” Buffy asked “Can you tell?”

 

Spike turned part way around to look over his right shoulder and then turned back to Buffy.

 

 

“Somewhere up there, over to the right in the last row...I think he has someone with him.”

 

“Oh.” Buffy said as she thought about Sol bringing a date. He came direct from the flight–so either he had prearranged this...or this person came with him...well that was...interesting.

 

But the next set was beginning now and now there was only 1,2.3.4,–6 more pieces to go before Tildy. Her heart fluttered in her chest a bit. Nervous for her child...Tildy was good, Spike said she was very good...but still, with all the people, the press and cable t.v.–yeah, there was no small amount of pressure on the girl AND she was going last. Like a finale or something–no, no pressure. Not. But Sol was here so the part of her that had been waiting, always waiting, relaxed. All her children were all together in the same building and soon they would all be at the same table and then in the same house.

 

She sighed.

 

She heard Spike chuckle but then he tightened his fingers round hers and raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand and then she smiled and placed her other hand on top of his and together they waited for their sweet, shy, tiger striped kitty Tildy to turn into Tiger.

 

*

 

Sol had been away for almost four months but besides that he hadn’t heard Tildy play in almost forever. Now Dad and Mom had gone on and on about how she was developing but nothing they said could have prepared him for the this.

 

She entered the stage amidst gentle polite welcoming applause, but there was a slight shifting in the seats, Sol could feel it–a general leaning forward in scepticism; i.e. judging force. Oh, ‘ello old friend, JF.

 

Sol shook his head a bit and pushed his bright sun bleached curls back off his face. Damn, he’d have to tie his hair back before greeting the paters. Not because they would care...but he and his siblings were always on defensive duty which meant mind the loose ends, loose lips and any news that the press or the rags or the internet might pick up to spread around.

 

Da said never mind the bollocks–but it was more complicated than that. Sol and his brother and sisters had taken it upon themselves, well, to sorta look out for their parents and protect them when they could. Which was ironic, but really, honestly, Mom and Da ran through the world like children sometimes, most times living on love and faith and while that was all good and fun..it was hard to watch sometimes. Were they completely oblivious to what some people said behind their backs? They couldn’t be and yet they lived like it didn’t matter.

 

Sol sighed. Well, it was a good way to live and wasn’t he trying to find his own way to that kind of light? There was a reason why his Ma and Da were such good parents and it wasn’t luck or looking at them through rose colored glasses, it was because they had each found themselves before they had married. Oh he knew they had severe challenges after, but they survived them because they knew who they were before they married. And didn’t that too set an example for each of them? Certainly Sol wanted that peace of sitting quiet in the center of himself. Oh aye, he wanted it and hadn’t he gone half way ‘round the world looking? Just didn’t know what he was looking for until he stumbled upon it way up in the mountains. And what if his passion and talent for climbing was inside him as a divine gift only to get him to his recent shocking discovery? Sol suspected that family members and friends were agents and adjuncts for each more often not. Speaking of which.

 

Sol looked out now at Tildy crossing the stage to the piano.

 

She was wearing a loose fitting sky blue dress that made him cock his head and wonder what that color reminded him of. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back into a severe bun that left her profile that so much like Da’s (‘cept feminized thank god) open to scrutiny and her neck bare and vulnerable.

 

Sol’s heart accelerated somewhat as she seated herself at the piano and of course he had the jitters for his sister, but his fears were eased a bit by her confident manner of how...she glowed. Huh...how about that? Tildy glowed. Tildy had stage presence...who would have known? He was the mountain climber and seeker into the odd ends of the world, but this took enormous courage too. Or a calling. Which was it for Tildy?

 

From the first chords struck on the piano and by the thrill shiver sent trilling through the room like sweet electric life–he knew it was a calling.

 

It was Chopin, she was playing one of his nocturnes--Sol couldn’t remember which one. It was one of the ones that appeared deceptively simple but had layers and movements beneath movements, a calm serene moment sitting on top of a spinning world. Life. Love.

 

And Tildy had it all....plus she added something of herself to it too...satisfaction and joy and the maybe heartbreak-to-be in the longing, in the outstretched arms ...

 

Sol closed his eyes, and let the music in, let the music move him back to the mountains, to the sky, to the clouds...to the wide open embrace of Mother Earth. To that thing that called him and only felt anything close to being answered in a panorama that knocked him breathless. In something so large it was impossible to comprehend and this same impossibility was as close to the truth as he ever hoped to understand at his young age.

 

Tildy was looking for something true inside the music and so in turn he was guided to re-experience his own quest. The music grounded him and helped him fly too. Oh, this is what he wanted...it was inside the music, he wanted love, not just now and again, he wanted love as a constant companion, he wanted this sweet stream of perfection almost, almost remembered. Heaven on earth. Oh, Tilly, Tilly girl...who knew? Who knew she had that inside her?

 

After the final chords reverberated down into a hush, everyone was left waiting listening, wanting to catch every drop of sound, of this feeling, before it faded forever into vapor.

 

And then applause...mad, stunning throng of applause and everyone in the place was on their feet.

 

Given the hooty, toot, toot, nose in the air nature of these old school ‘prove it to me’ conservatory types, it was something.

 

Sol scanned the audience looking for his Mom and Dad...but everyone was standing and he couldn’t see.

 

And then the crowd shifted slightly and his searching eye unerringly zoned in on them. Everyone around them was applauding and they were standing too but their bodies were still, their arms were wrapped around each others waists and he watched them watch the stage, he watched them watch Tildy come forward, a little shocked at the reaction and then curtsey. (so old school–but it’s what Tildy wanted) and then leave the stage only to come back on with the rest of the students in the recital for a general bow for them all.

 

Before the next round of applause was complete Sol took in a deep breath and turned to the young Chinese woman at his side.

 

“Let’s go out side and get some air–don’t you need some air? I wanna take it all in and be quiet for a few minutes.”

 

And she simply nodded her head, her long black hair falling a little onto her face and then followed Sol out of the Theatre.

 

*

 

Five

 

*

 

Din of bodies, press of bodies tight, hugging her tight--congratulating her and she nodded and nodded but all she really wanted was Ma and Da. Where were they?

 

Tildy was working her way backstage to get out to the reception area...but if they were coming back to see her...well they might miss each other...someone was grabbing her now and spinning her around like a child and when the twirling stopped she looked up into Carl Rigstchadt’s bright laughing face.

 

“Oh you showed them Windy Tildy, oh yes you did! I am so happy for you sweet pie! Here, can I shake your hand or has it been declared a national treasure yet?”

 

“Oh Carl, Oh Carl...it was fine wasn’t it?”

“Fine! Fine! A fine is what you pay, a fine is a penalty for crossing a line–you soared over all the lines, my dove–into the very stratus...well done, ole girl, I say...well done....”

 

Tildy liked it much better when he was calling her ‘sweet pie’ and ‘my dove...but–

–And then Alexia was there flying into her arms and crying oh our Tildy! Our Tildy!” And then Alexia leaned back and placed both hands on either side of Tildy’s face and looked her sister in the eye and then leaned in and hugged her hard again and whispered in her ear.

 

“You wore the blue dress–don’t think I don’t remember, coz I do, thank you our Tildy...”

 

And then Tildy was crying too and Carl was bellowing.

 

“What’s this? What’s this weeping? Women!”

 

Alexia pulled back and then punched Carl playfully on the arm.

 

“Oh, knock it off Carl–it’s the good kind.” And then she turned and told Tildy; “You made Mom and Dad cry...”

“What? In public? NO!”

 

“Yes! You had barely started playing and they both just lost it. Well, you know, not falling down in the aisles beating on their chest losing it..but yeah...”

“Where are they?” Tildy asked scanning the crowd

 

Alexia gestured in vague way toward the front of the house.

 

“You know them, they don’t wanna make a big deal of themselves; seems like they wanted to be quiet and take it in; ‘sides I think they wanted you to have this moment to yourself.

 

“Not bloody likely–“

 

“–Tildy!”

“–I’m gonna go get them.” Tildy said and then continued with: “I’ll just be getting my bag first, then...”

And then she made her way into the green room.

 

And then three things began to converge simultaneously toward an Apex.

 

The first thing was:

 

Buffy and Spike with Gamma and Margie as Slayer breakwaters through the crowd entered through the stage door from the audience aisle. Buffy and Spike walked in tandem with their arms wound around each other. Spike in his dark blue suit with crisp white shirt and Buffy in her dark blue dress of satin, made, even unobtrusively, quite an entrance. As eyes turned toward the historic pair–

The second thing was:

 

--Carl took Alexia’s arm and turned her toward him and said.

“Alexia...look, Alexia...ah...I’ve been wondering...” he stammered and when she continued to look up at him her brows pulling together waiting for him to finish the sentence, but really looking around the room at the same time too, he finally came out with: “Look your parents are here...”

“Well that’s a good call...” she said dryly and then turned to go re-greet them leaving, Carl tall and lanky and not looking at all sophisticated in the moment to stare after her.

 

The third thing was:

Tildy was in the green room in front of the mirror gathering up the flowers Mom and Dad had sent and the cards from her Sister and Brothers and then looked up into the full length mirror parked on an angle and reflecting out into the backstage area–she saw Carl’s reflection in the mirror as he talked to Alexia, she watched him look down at her sister and his face was so warm and kind and just now he had such a look about him, it made her heart soften to see it. It was such a look of love...kinda like how her Dad sometimes looked at her Mom...

Love.

 

Then world slowed down bit; just whirred to an almost a dead stop, as slowly now, puzzled now, she turned and stood in the doorway to look directly at Carl and yes, there he was standing straight and tall and handsome and so beautiful it punched the breath out of her body and there was a sweet soft look on his face as he was touching Alexia’s arm. Tildy looked to Alexia whose eyes kept darting all about...she wasn’t looking at Carl at all, Alexia didn’t even see him...

 

Alexia left Carl’s side now and crossed to their Mom and Dad

 

And then Tildy followed Carl’s line of vision to her Mom and Dad near the stage door.

And Alexia.

Tildy stepped out into the backstage area to get a better look and saw Alexia standing next to their Mom; Alexia was looking up at Ma’s hair...they were smiling and oblivious...

But Spike was not.

Spike, always on alert, and especially in public, had felt the energy, he had felt the heat of that look being directed toward one of his own and so he had followed the energy thread back to...Carl Rigstchadt.

Carl Rigstchadt looking at Alexia..

And then Spike had a terrible sinking feeling and: ’Oh no’; he thought.

 

The eloquent lawyer, the politician, the world leader now thought: ‘Oh no...’

He hadn’t liked the boy by any road, so it was no loss to him; and if he was set that way on Alexia and Alexia didn’t know he was alive, so to speak, that might mean his mark had never been for Tildy(unless he had been deceiving her)–well that would explain a few things about what he had been feeling about the git and it would certainly explain why the balance between Tildy and Carl had felt off to him and while it’s true he didn’t like the lad... Tildy did.

And Carl...loved Alexia. The lad...this young man (he corrected) loved his sixteen year old daughter and he might have killed him for it (really) temperance and self training all out the window except for something interesting. Alexia didn’t love him back and Spike felt a pang of sympathy for the young man (entwined with great relief of course).

 

Spike shook his head and looked around the crowded room.

 

Where was our Tildy?

His eyes searched the crowd and then he caught a flash of sky blue and then Tildy turning and pushing her way through the crowd to slip through a side exit and out of sight.

 

Oh Matilda...oh pet, had she seen what he had seen? He pursed his lips together and frowned a bit.

 

Well, his worries about Carl Rigstchadt after Tildy were over and replaced now with a deeper concern.

 

His daughters heart.

 

*

 

Six

 

*

 

Sol was outside looking up at the night sky when he caught a flash of light blue out of the corner of his eye and when he turned–was that Tildy?

 

Tildy running to the parking lot?

 

Puzzled, he turned to the young woman at his side and said:

 

“Excuse me a minute, Su...I think my sister is running away.”

And then he loped easily out to the parking lot, scanned the vehicles and spotted Tildy at the boot of a PT Cruiser. Figures she would get a car like that.

 

But his heart brightened at the sight of her and with a large smile he jogged toward her calling out.

 

“What? Why not just get a real antique, like a jalopy or whattal, go retro, not neo, coz, this thing isn’t like real time traveling–“

She straightened and looked over to him as he ran up and then he stopped his patter in mid pat when he saw her face he hurried the rest of the way but for a different reason.

 

“Tildy...what is it? What’s happened?”

 

Tildy felt dizzy and strange, like she was falling, falling through the world, but mostly she felt a fool, she felt a right fool and all she knew was that she had to get out of the theatre to get some air–couldn’t let Mom and Dad see her lose it and she had no idea of where she was going really or what she was doing. She turned to look at the car and saw the large bouquet of flowers in the boot...had she been carrying them all this time?

 

“I...nothing...I just wanted to put my flowers in the car...didn’t want to forget them...later...with everything...”

 

Sol looked into her, his brows pulling together said slowly.

 

“You came running out to put your flowers in the car?”

 

She looked up at him and managed to deadpan.

 

“They are really great flowers.”

And then slowly Sol smiled, he looked at the flowers and then at her and then said softly.

 

“Clearly, they are the best of all flowers.”

And then slowly they came together in a heartfelt hug. It was a long bear-like hug. A Sol-like hug. He always hugged like an American–Mom said. Just grabbing on to somebody until he or she or it felt how much he loved them and then finally let go. And because he was in such excellent physical condition–that could be a minute.

 

At the end of the hug, Sol kissed Tildy’s temple and stepped back and whispered:

 

“You were in the space beyond wonderful, Til, you have a calling.”

To this she simply nodded and looked down, hiding her eyes.

 

“So, it was all a bit much in there, was it? The reaction? Had to make a run for it, did you?”

And seizing on that notion to misdirect him, Tildy confirmed.

 

“Yeah...it was all suddenly...just too much...”

“Your life changed tonight, Til, but please don’t be scared...you have something wonderful to share...and now people wanna give back something of what you gave them...so a breath of fresh air is good...but...”

 

“I wasn’t really running away...well I was running...but I just needed to get out...it felt...unreal...in there...” and here Tildy found she could speak the truth (under cover) and so under Sol’s steady dark eyes she continued.

 

“When I’m playing it was so real, realer than real...and then it became...strange...I see you needed some air too...”

“Oh aye...can’t deny it.” Sol laughed.

 

And then they stood there looking at each other for a long moment and Tildy said.

 

“You look good Sol, you do...you look calmer...somehow, more at peace–climbing the Himalaya’s must agree with you.”

Sol chuckled and then almost whispered; “It was amazing, Til...I....well...it’s too much to go into now...and in part it involves Da...so let’s concentrate on you the night, right?”

“That means I gotta go back inside, doesn’t it?” And she had such a look of genuine dread, Sol felt the need to joke her out of it.

 

“It does if you wanna get paid for your performance–they’re putting the feedbag on aren’t they? All these blue blooded snoots? Should be, what with this high priced fund raiser and they should bloody pay us to be here thank you very much, coz you know 75% of them are in there to ogle us–“

“In three words–get over it!” Tildy advised him

 

Sol looked at her sharply and then laughed.

 

“Yeah...all right, it is as you say...get over it–say I don’t suppose you have a spare monkey suit in your bag of tricks for me to wear the night? Didn’t want to miss your performance and so I didn’t risk taking time to change–we were hung over in New Deli–“

 

“Don’t even think about it–Dad would be so disappointed if you didn’t make a spectacle of yourself by showing up in–what is that any way? A serpa suit?”

“Something like that. Time to go back in, pet.” Sol said sagely.

 

Tildy took in a deep breath and looked up at the building.

 

“My life changed tonight, Sol...”

“Yes, it did...”

“Don’t know if I wanna go in to face it...”

There was a pause and then Sol said.

 

“Well, there is Ma and Da, you know...won’t exactly be alone...”

“Yeah...yes...let’s go find Ma and Da.”

 

*

 

Buffy had a keen eye and a wise perceptive heart where her children were involved and an unerring intuition where her husband was concerned and right now, right this minute at this high point of celebration and merry making and all reunited, all back to the bosom, looking around the table at all the bright smiling faces, she knew something was definitely wrong.

 

“Carl, Tildy tells me that you have an unusual theory about the original energetic purpose of Stonehenge?” Spike asked Carl kindly.

 

Definitely wrong.

 

And then Carl, almost simpering in his desire to please Spike, to entertain the table and to be with this particular family, dropped the tut, tut facade, he lost the smoothy, smooth and talked from his heart. He stuttered, stammered and who wouldn’t under Spike ice blue gaze when he did that thing he did with ‘the I’m looking right into you’ look, but he bravely pressed on and instead of getting his back up, the way he had in the past with Spike–Carl was opening up and taking the risk of making himself seem foolish and it was all because something in Spike had...shifted.

 

Buffy knew it. She could feel it. And it was more than the conversation they had earlier in the evening, this was something else, something...

 

Buffy’s eyes went to her left to Tildy, who was sitting next to Carl, who was sitting next to Alexia, and then it was Paul and then Sol and then the strange, quiet little Chinese girl, (who sat there like a potted plant or something–‘just give me a little water, please’ and so oddly unanimated and just what was she doing with effervescent Sol?) and then Xander next to Spike and then back to herself.

 

A nice round table of the people closest to her heart (well, except Carl and the Chinese girl) and it was a wonderful night and it was wonderful and healing to the heart to have them all here together...but there was this thing, this feeling of several somethings’ happening beneath the surface and that something was going to bust soon.

Buffy looked at Tildy and she was looking down at her plate again, staring at her salad. Buffy looked at Tildy’s salad; green lettuce, tomatoes, maybe some bacon...nothing that seemed more compelling than the beautiful young man seated on Tildy’s left..

 

Buffy looked at Carl, who was talking now in an animated way about a possible vortex in the middle of Stonehenge and his desire to re-create the ceremony.

 

“But wouldn’t you also have to re-create the original conditions?” Spike asked, “make sure the formation is exactly the same, something just a little bit off, and it could go wonky on you, and you could end up fused inside a rock somewhere in the Ozarks.”

Carl seemed a bit chastened at having missed something so obvious and where in the past, Tildy might have stepped in to support Carl...there was now a gap, a silence and so Paul–ever the peace maker offered.

 

“Dad...he’s just talking...everything starts with a dream...you know...just day dreaming...”

Spike smiled at Paul.

 

“Oh of course...of course, I’m only trouble shooting the target, because I think you have something there, Carl, I’m taking your notion seriously. Have you been granted your thesis theme yet?”

Carl was stunned and then stuttered...”Ah...no...no...I’m being told, that I’m off base, quite in the wrong room–“

“–Well, I may have access to some information that can make your proposal more credible...perhaps if I spoke with–“

“–Oh sir...could you? Would you? I would be extremely grateful, eternally so...”

“Yeah...well...we’ll see about ‘eternally grateful’–thas’ a bloody long time and a little too close to infinity to suit us both...”

 

And then there was a laugh around the table at that and it was all good–except, Buffy noted.

 

Tildy wasn’t laughing. She was barely alert enough to listen to the conversation.

 

Buffy looked at Spike and he felt her gaze of course and so he turned to look into the eyes and at her quiet questioning glance she watched a cloud cross his mind. All right...so she wasn’t wrong...there was something.

 

In answer she felt Spikes hand slip over hers and when she looked down at their hands, she saw his finer pointing toward Carl...and Alexia.

 

Buffy looked up to where he had indicated and yes, there was Carl chatting with Alexia...Alexia was smiling and nodding but it was clear Alexia wanted to talk to Paul too...to bring him into the conversation, but Paul was head to head with his beloved brother Sol. They hadn’t seen each other in months and months and so it was understandable that they were engrossed in the progress of each others lives.

 

Buffy looked back to Carl looking at Alexia looking at Paul and bam, slam it was right there written all over Carl’s face. He was absolutely besotted with Alexia and Alexia seemed clueless to it all and then Buffy swung back to Tildy who was poking her tomato now with a fork and picking it up to stare at it as if she had just pulled it from under a microscope and simply couldn’t believe her eyes.

 

Buffy felt Spike stroking the tops of her fingers gently, lovingly, saying nothing.

 

It was so important to Buffy to keep her children safe, to keep them all be happy and healthy, it was so important, but how, just how could anyone protect a person from the heart? One could love, two could love each other, and she and Spike were lucky, no, strike that, willing enough to do that...but as Spike had said many times in their life so far together. Some things are a personal road and would you want to carry your child so much, so often, that he or she never had the strength to walk?

 

Everyone had their own path to walk in the world and watching her children choose their paths often felt like she and Spike sitting at the base of a tree and watching the branches grow out wild into the sky.

 

But wonderful things happened too, like Tildy finding her voice in music, Paul quickly becoming a respected scholar, historian and working toward being an archeologist, Alexia was driven and completely driving herself into public service, because, god knows, Spike and she had never pushed any of them. In fact they had said...’you have a home, you will always have a home, we have enough money, we have room to spare if you don’t want to work a day in your life, or travel beyond four blocks it’s all right with us.’ But so that they would be strong in their own best nature they never got in their children’s way either. Or certainly tried not to. Buffy and Spike loved to discover what dreams were alive in them all and guide and assist as best they could...but never say thee nay.

 

And so now Tildy was hurting and there seemed nothing Spike or she could do about it–except love her.

 

At that moment Professor Stans bustled up to stand between Buffy and Spike, his hands reaching up to adjust his glasses and beaming, beaming, beaming.

 

“Excellent news, excellent, just wonderful, I am very pleased to announce that we have just received an offer for several of our young students and Matilda is certainly among them, to go on a concert tour of Great Britain as a sorting out, shall we say, as a trial, as it were, and if all goes well, then Europe. This sponsor is a top drawer agent and he has high hopes, high hopes indeed for the success and timing of the tour. And then after Europe...well, my friends, dare I say it? The world!”

Buffy and Spike looked at each other with equal parts of joy and stunned sorrow–another of their chicks to fly off and away...

 

There were cries around the table of: “Jolly good! And ‘well done Til...’ and then Sol was saying:

 

“Well, you thought you’re life was changing and there you have it–this is wonderful, Til–“

Carl cut in brightly with:

 

“--Oh that’s smashing, ole girl, absolutely brilliant! You will lay them out!”

 

And then Tildy asked suddenly:

 

“You won’t miss me, Carl?”

He looked perplexed for a moment and then brightened and said.

 

“Oh, of course, but not for long, right? Alexia and I will come to all your ports of call and cheer you on from the rafters, isn’t that so? Lexy?”

“Well of course...” Alexia said in a distracted way but she was looking more closely at her sister and asked softly. “What is it Tildy?”

Tildy said a bit tightly. “Everybody seems to have everything figured out for me and well...just run me down with it all, why don’t you?” Her voice rose a bit and Buffy said softly in a bit of a caution.

 

“No one is trying to make to do anything, Tildy–you can do whatever you want.”

And then Tildy said so tightly the edges of her words cut at her Mother.

 

“Can I Mom? Can I really do just anything I want?”

Dead silence at the table.

 

“Tildy...” Spike said softly

 

“No Dad, you and Mom have always said that we can do whatever we want–but that isn’t really true, is it? I can’t have everything the way I want, can I?” Tildy asked stridently..

 

Buffy looked down at her lap, and breathed deep to ease the sudden small thorn struck into her heart by the harshness in her daughters voice.

 

“Tildy,” Spike looked at Buffy for a moment, closed his eyes, counted to five and then said firmly.

 

“You are taking that out of context, and yes you can have everything you want in life, perhaps not in the package you imagine, but yes, you can, and if something is not happening they way you wanted, then I suggest that you don’t need it the way you imagine you did. I strongly suggest you examine the object versus the intention. Have you been focusing on the object, on the thing in your hand, or why you want the thing in your hand? Something better, something closer to want you want may be coming your way, and perhaps, it’s already here and more suited to heart’s desire or perhaps you simply don’t want this thing bad enough, do you?”

 

 

“Don’t talk like a lawyer to me, Da, I’m not on trial here!”

 

 

Tildy’s voice was sharp and thin and it barely squeaked out past the tears she was fighting to hold in. Spikes eyes softened, he put his left arm around his wife’s chair and leaned in toward his daughter to say softly.

 

“Aren’t you my dove?”

 

Tildy blinked at him and he continued with.

 

“Every day is a trial in this world, my dove, every thought, every deed is measured and counted and you walked into the fire tonight pet, brave as any St. Joan and came through a true woman and shooting star and no mistake and so that makes you are a new player in a new game now and not a child and always on trial...but you can do it, pet...you can, you have...just reach out and take it...”

 

Spike looked at Buffy then, and she at him and then they both turned to Tildy and waited.

 

It was too much...she wanted to throw herself down on the floor and rant until she got what she wanted, she wanted to hurt everyone they way she was hurting and Da had never raised his voice to her before or any his children and to hear him speak so sternly to her on this night of all nights was suddenly too much. She couldn’t hear what he was saying...only the reprimand in his voice. Tildy’s face began to crumple and desperate to escape she got up from the table and walked as quickly away as she could so no one would see her cry.

 

The silence at the table was deadly and then Carl said softly.

 

“Whatever in the world is wrong?”

 

“Oh Carl, you’re an idiot.” Alexia said softly.

 

Ah, so she had noticed the Von Rigstchadt adoration...or was it more? Spike wondered.

 

“Well, as long as one shoe has dropped, this seem the perfect time to drop the other.” Sol said brightly.

 

Everyone looked at him.

 

Sol was talking now.

 

“Mom, Da, we haven’t talked about this yet, but I’ve been fairly bursting to tell you...I came, well stumbled, really onto a secluded Tibetan monastery; and I can hardly find the words to describe the tremendous peace and...feeling of sanctuary in hiding, I had when I was there...except to say, I...I think I stumbled upon Shambala...”

There was a pause and then Paul whispered:

 

“Shambala...no one stumbles upon Shambala...”

Sol said nothing to that, but simply smiled and waited as everyone thought about what that implied.

 

Spike could feel Buffy holding her breath as they waited for the rest, Sol had something more to say...uh oh...here it came.

 

“And so...I’m going back...for a while...don’t know how long really, but I’m leaving almost right away...look, I know this is sudden, but my flight back is in a couple of days and I know this may sound crazy, Da...but I think you and Mom should come back with me. I feel you are both obliged to come.”

“To...to Tibet?” Asked Buffy, her head still reeling from the previous scene of separation and now she was playing another one.

 

“Please, please, do not tell me you are becoming a monk.” Spike said

 

“Not that there is anything wrong with that.” Offered Xander helpfully.

 

There was a soft laugh that broke some of the tension and Sol smiled at Xander.

 

“Thanks Uncle Xander...and Da, you did just say I could do anything I wanted...”

“I did.” Spike agreed.

 

And then there was a silence that said: ‘well there you have it.’

And then Alexia’s brow pulled together and she asked.

“O.K. alright...if you are on your way to being a monk, and I’ll believe that when I see it–then who, exactly, is that?”

And here Alexia pointed at the small Chinese girl who, up until that point has just sat quietly waiting for her moment to speak, so to speak.

 

‘Indeed’ said the new silence, who is that?

 

“Well, that’s a part of the puzzle, isn’t it then? The Master who took me under his wing, sent her back with me with a message for Mom and Dad–haven’t been able to pry it out of her. At first I didn’t think she speak English, but she does all right, just likes to pretend, right, Su?”

And now everybody looked at Su in expectation.

 

Su looked up then and took in four deep breaths each one ending on an exhalation puff and then her face seemed to come to life, to fill and form and become...well, more specific somehow. She was filling with animas and so she looked more alive, perhaps, and now she turned her dark almond shaped eyes to Buffy and smiled softly, warmly and then she turned the same gaze to Spike, looked him in the eye, and then brought her hands together prayer fashion and said softly.

 

“Hello old friend, my teacher, I am so happy to see you again.”

And then she bowed her head slightly in his direction and looked up into his eyes and waited for his response.

 

Spike drew back and stiffened in his chair which put Buffy on alert but when the girl simply looked at them with love, he relaxed and after a long moment of looking at her he said softly.

 

“Hello Su Yuan, I am so pleased to see you again.”

There was a moment of stillness as the two looked into each other’s eyes and then Su Yuan said simply.

 

“You have taught me so much, my friend and I wish to exchange the kindness...”

Spike nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

 

“Da...” Paul asked softly. “Da, what does this mean?”

 

“It means your Mother and I are going to Tibet.”

 

*

 

Seven

 

*

 

When no one came after her, when no one came to check on her, to see how she was faring–Tildy had two choices, leave, just go and get in her car and, and then what? Punish Mom and Dad? Punish everybody..for..for what? Punish them because she could? Because they hurt her...because, because...Carl didn’t love her, because she didn’t get what she wanted? Punish them because they would forgive her? Punish them for loving her and because Carl did not?

 

 

Punish them because she didn’t get what she wanted...and what did she want? What had she been asking for? Not for that look on Mom’s face...oh yes, she had seen what her sharp words had done to her Mother...she had always been canny to the way her Mom responded to any of her children’s sharp words. It had felt like drawing blood, saying that to her Ma.

 

 

She was feeling a little sick to her stomach.

 

 

The taste of what she had said was left in her mouth and was making her nauseous and so she wandered into the restroom to sit near a toilet...just in case. Well she couldn’t leave if she was going to be sick, could she then? No, she couldn’t leave.

 

 

No, she had to stay.

 

She looked around the restroom...she knew it of course...it was the conservatory rest room where the girls would hang sometimes between class to nap or read. She looked at the marble walls...light tan with threads of pink running through the slabs like veins bringing blood. Threads of pink keeping the whole thing alive. Huh...never noticed that before. The walls looked so cool, and she had the crazy notion to go and rest her cheek upon the wall to cool this fever from her mind and body and suddenly she remembered sitting on the sofa, next to her Da, right up close, so close she could rest her cheek, rest herself on him and his cool nature could ease her hot moods and the terrible furnace in her cooking the list of what all she wanted and NOW.

 

She would stay, she wanted to stay, mostly because the thought of leaving brought more pain than the thought of staying and that was because she loved her family and quite simply, did not want them to feel bad. In the end and with all said and done, she didn’t want to put her pain, her loss into them for them to carry and she did not wish this terrible empty spinning vortex on anyone. She did not want anyone to feel this.

 

So, Tildy wasn’t going to run away and she already deeply regretted the scene she had made, and she felt was struck deeper in her heart than her Da imagined and certainly more than the manifestation of a childish tantrum would communicate and just what had Da meant about her not wanting it bad enough? To have a mate was all she wanted.

 

What had she wanted? What had she been asking?

 

The answer was easy.

 

Love.

 

Love...love like what her Ma and Da had...but what did they have and why was it special?

 

The way they looked at each other...the small touches and laughter and...and..that feeling she had around them, that feeling they generated, of being connected, connected right to the source of anything and everything that mattered. To be connected right into your purpose for being alive, for being given the gift of breath and then sudden smack of a shock and a thought she had never had before.

 

 

It was Ma and Da’s purpose...it was their first best job to love each other.

 

 

That’s what she had longed for...that is what she wanted even now, under all this confusion.

 

 

That is what she had been asking for ever since she was a child. She wanted to be connected to love in a way that mattered and made a difference in the world. To do her job. Which of course led to the next question; what was her job?

 

 

The answer seemed so obvious her first instinct was to throw stones at it. To hit the piano with a soft tomato because what if music had gotten between her and Carl?

 

 

Her life had changed tonight, that was clear and Da was right too...she was on trial and honestly too confused and hurting to be able to think straight or feel much more than wanting her Mother’s arms around her. Ma.

 

She had to go back to Ma and make it O.K. She simply couldn’t think about anything more right now...or she might do something stupid, something like cutting off her nose to spite her face and then bright light BANG. NOW she knew what that dusty old phrase meant too.

She sighed and took one more look in the mirror, left the rest room and nodded and smiled as best she could to the people who came up t her to touch her or hug her and all this love, all this love from strangers and what about that? She accepted the congratulations from the assortment of people with a soft nod and thanks and made her way back to The Table.

 

Huh. As she approached, she could see that Mom and Dad were absent, Carl was absent too but the rest were there. That Chinese girl, Sol’s friend looked different though–Tildy did a double take at her and then sat down.

 

They all looked up and nodded and thank god, for Uncle Xander who could name something and make it funny too.

 

“There she is–our little barn stormer, hey Tildy girl, feeling better?”

“Yes..I am...guess I’m a bit nervy about, you know...everything, the future and what is a barn stormer by the way Uncle Xander?”

“A barn stormer is you pearly girl, a daredevil out there riding the wings of a plane–like those old first model putt, putt and how in the world is that flying jobs? That’s you, a pioneer...” and then he smiled and looked around the table and added:

 

“You are all pioneers...I’m so glad to know you...and that goes for you too, Su Yuan.”

 

To which Su Yuan simply smiled and the others laughed gently.

 

“Vi is watching the cable version of this at home...it was too much of a security risk for her to be here along with Buffy and Spike...but she will want to meet you Su Yuan, before you leave...if that’s o.k.”

Su Yuan smiled and said.

“I would be honored...as long as all is good with my gracious hosts. I do not wish to add to trouble.” She said in the best English she could muster.

“We’re fine...” Tildy said softly and then added with some forced humor. “It’s me...and I had better learn to control my moods–or people will start thinking I’m a diva or something.”

“You can be a Diva if you want.” Alexia said brightly.

 

“You can be anything you want.” Deadpanned Paul.

 

Tildy looked at him and then shook her head..

 

Siblings. Trust your brothers and sister to never let you get away with shining shite...and so now she said.

“Well...that’s good to know...I’ll note that in me diary, shall I? I’m strung out more than I thought I was and now all this talk of traveling on tour...well, I don’t think I want to go.”

“No. No, Tildy you can’t mean that!” Said Paul in a puff.

 

 “Silly Tilly! A gift like yours–well gawd girl, why not spread the joy?’ Sol asked loudly and then Alexia asked softly:

 

“What are you thinking Tildy?”

 

“I’m thinking about Mom and Dad...Sol is always off, Paul will be leaving soon for Central America for his dig and Alexia, you’ll be in school and deep in it too–you’ll have little time to visit because you’ll have to keep her grades up, you know you will, Alexia....and Mom...well, now, I’m not trying to put this on anybody...but she really misses all of us when we’re not there...I’m not sure how she will feel–if we all are off somewheres.”

Silence for a moment and then Paul asked softly.

 

“Is that really it? Or is this happening too fast? Maybe you don’t feel ready?”

“Some of both maybe. It took everything in me to do that tonight and how can I be strong enough to do that all the time–“

“–Away from Mom and Dad, you mean.” Sol said succinctly.

 

“What do you mean?” Tildy asked and when no one answered she asked again. “What do you mean?”

“You lean on them Tilly...” Sol said soflty.

 

“--I don’t.” Tildy said swiftly and when no one said anything Tildy turned to Alexia and asked “Do I?”

Instead of answering that question Paul said soflty.

 

“We all lean on them...they are amazing...but we want to do them proud too don’t we then? And you were amazing tonight, Tildy...and what can be done once can be done again and again...Mom and Dad, well it would be so easy to just let them become our first best food, to just stay and live off how they love each other and us too...but wouldn’t it be even better if we became their hit spin off series, so to speak? We have all been cooked just right, right? So now we go off into the world and spread the food around? Right?”

 

Tildy knew that was true, she felt that in her music but there was this other thing, the simple thing.

 

“I would miss them.”

Silence to that, yeah, they all got that.

 

“Where are they by the way?” Tildy asked

 

“Well, it would seem they are in...negotiations...” Xander said.

 

“Was’ that mean?” Tildy asked.

 

And then in answer Xander pointed the dance floor by the small string orchestra set up to play for the patrons. Buffy and Spike were dancing together on the dance floor. They glided and moved together like water around the other dancers on the floor and while they flowed, they also seemed to be having an animated discussion.

 

“Wonder what world problem they are solving now.” Xander mused.

 

*

 

“All I’m saying, luv, is I have, ingrained in me from times past, the correct way one waltzes, hand on the small of her back, like so...”

And here Spike’s palm pressed a little more firmly into the deep place on her back that he knew she liked until her breath become little puffs.

 

“See? And hands clasped together like so...”

 

And here he entwined their palms together in the grip that had been sealed in fire so long ago. They let themselves sigh into the sweet contact again and then looked into each others eyes.

 

“See isn’t this good? For the flow of the energy, that is...for the whole feng shui of waltzing depends on the man leading...”

“Oh, come on, Spike since when are you a stickler for tradition? Lemme lead, come on, it looks like fun...”

And then his eyes got dark in that way that gave her the quiver shivers and he leaned into her ear to whisper.

 

“Didn’t you just pounce on me the night? I have a distinct memory of having been ridden and quite merrily beneath some cowgirl or whatnot wild American Rose riding bronco...”

And then he kissed her ear tenderly and slipped his tongue inside until he felt her tremble and then pulled back a bit to say softly...I’m just putting the kettle on, luv...my turn to lead...just relax and admit it you like it....”

She pulled back from him, smiling and more than a little flushed.

 

“I could say the same to you...”

“Oh, I admit it...I do...I love, how you hold my shoulders down and then open yourself to sink so, so slow down–“

 

“–Spike...” She warned softly.

 

“--Or fast...either one...and I’m talking real low and with the music playing right behind us and me talking into your hair concoction, no one can read my lips–“

“–So you aren’t going to let me lead?” Buffy murmured

 

“You lead me always, Buffy, in all things...I’m just leading this waltz...” Spike said softly

“Well, when you put it like that...” Buffy chuckled and then he laughed too and pulled back to look into her eyes and they danced that way in peace for a few moments and then Buffy said softly.

 

“We have to talk about it...”

“Yeah...” Spike replied.

 

“She is The Slayer, the one you killed during the Boxer Rebellion, isn’t she?”

“Back again, back again...yeah...”

“Why did she thank you?”

 

Spike thought a moment and then said.

 

“You know the answer to that better than me, luv.”

They danced for a bit and then Buffy said.

 

“We have been through so much it has taken us all the way out to the edge and into a new way of looking at the world, hasn’t it? My enemy, my friend.”

“Yeah...” Spike agreed.

 

“There gets to a point, in every warriors life, when one battle only leads to another one and every peace becomes temporary...because hard feelings from somewhere back there from the fight fester and grow and so war never brings peace.”

“War never brings peace. So then what?” Spike asked half in agreement and half because he really wanted to know, because he was perpetually struggling with the same question.

 

“It means we are going to Tibet to see if somebody knows something we don’t.”

 

“Shambalah...” whispered Spike. “A demon in Shambalah...it is supposed to be so full of light it’s off our matrix...in a world of it’s own, a demon made welcome in Shambalah...wonder how Shambalah shifted down–“

“-Maybe it’s you who’s come up.” Buffy said softly.

 

“We...we have...you lead me in all things Buffy, ‘is true, have I ever said thank you?”

Buffy seemed to consider this and then indicated the four young people seated at the table.

 

“At least four...no six times, you have thanked me six times...”

 

Spike pulled her to him and kissed the side of her head, but said nothing and then they both turned to look at their children and Spike said softly.

 

“And then there’s our Tildy...”

 

“She has to go on that tour, Spike, she has to go and...I think she’s afraid...”

 

“Yeah...and she loves Carl, pet...”

 

“I saw and Carl...well...”

 

“Is an idiot.”

 

“No...no...don’t–“

 

“--Not to love our Tildy?” Exclaimed Spike

Buffy didn’t bother to point out that just a slim few hours ago he would traded all the hair on his head to not have Carl Von Rigstchdt love their daughter...and Spike was vain about his hair, so instead she said:

 

“He’s looking at Alexia–“

 

“Well, that isn’t going to happen...”

 

And when Buffy said nothing to that Spike leaned forward and asked.

 

“Is it?”

 

Buffy, his wife, his beloved, the mother of his children; shrugged and instead said:

 

“Also, if we go to Tibet...Tildy will have nothing to lean upon, as she goes through this...heartache, except her music. It may be very good for her to need her music more than us, Spike. I don’t want to manipulate the situation...but I’m understanding Giles more, and more as time goes on. I hated when he left me after I came back...but if he hadn’t...would I have come to you?”

 

Spike thought about that for a moment and then said.

 

“She has a gift with the music–a calling; Sol says, and she may not know it yet...but I think she wants it more than Carl...”

“Maybe more than Carl...” Buffy corrected him...”but not more than love. What if her music just brings her closer to a man who is more like her?”

 

They danced for a bit more and then Spike said a little sulkily.

 

“Can’t say as that I’m fond of her finding any man...”

 

“And not let her have anything like this?” and here Buffy slowed to a stop and Spike stopped and they looked at each other.

 

“No...you’re right...it is as you say, luv...all we can do is hope they are shining bright enough to bring them all something brilliant and good.”

Which is all any parent could ever hope, and then Spike’s eye was caught by Paul signaling to him from the table.

 

“There’s our Paul...always at the helm, Tildy’s back...she looks a little more relaxed.”

“She is gonna hate us for this you know...”

“Probably...”

“Embarrassing her in front of all her snooty friends–“

“Ah pet, it does me good to hear you admit it–“

“Still, most everybody has left for the evening, we are among the last...” Buffy said as she eyed the room, summing up the situation.

 

“Let’s give her something to remember all the way into her dotage, eh luv....let’s do it...”

 

Spike said eagerly and then Buffy catching his excitement agreed easily. He was so easy to love, it was so easy to be loved by him...

 

“Yes, Spike...and Spike...”

And here she called out to him and he turned back to her with a question in his eyes.

 

“Give us a kiss...” Buffy said in her best Liverpudlian which was to say, a terrible mangle, but Spike smiled a smile that seemed to say; ‘all right, you asked...’

 

And then with their hearts tripping over themselves to get to the other...he reached for her and bent her back gently, undid the clasp holding her hair up in the do and with her golden hair falling down in tangle, he kissed her, until her arms wound up around his neck and she pulled him in tight to her gasping.

The lights were dim on the dance floor...but yeah, that little spectacle would be kinda hard to miss...but wait that was just the warm up because now Spike and Buffy righted themselves and she patted his cheek with a soft smile and then headed to the table looking at Tildy with a strange little mischievous smile on her face.

 

In turn, Spike went to the orchestra and slipped them three hundred dollars (this was a fund raiser after all) to play a certain tune. He whispered the request in the conductors ear, who nodded and then the conductor leaned forward to instruct the assembled musicians as Spike began crossing the floor to the table where Buffy was heading.

 

“Mom...no child, no matter how mature...should see their parents smack like that.” Alexia said, but she was smiling too, they all were.

 

Buffy smiled and started to say something but then the orchestra began to play and the slow heart wrenching melancholy but sweetly healing strains of music began filling the room.

 

“Oh wait...they’re playing our song...” Buffy said as she turned around to greet Spike as he walked up to her. There were little canary feathers sticking out of the corners his kitty cat mouth.

 

They all listened and of course, Tildy was the first one to pick up the melody and say:

 

“Oh no you didn’t...oh no you. Did. Not!” She exclaimed

 

And then the familiar strains of ‘Waltzing Maltilda’ was recognizable to all and sundry.

 

Alexia clapped her hands together in glee.

 

“Oh Da, sing it! Sing it!”

And thus invited (didn’t take much) he did:

‘“Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong

Under the shade of a Coolibah tree,

And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled

‘Who’ll come a-waltzing Maltilda with me?”’

 

It was the old play game and it was her Da singing and twirling her around the room and she was maybe four, five, six and he was making her feel special, the only one in the whole world until she got too old for the game, and thought it was kid stuff and embarrassing and now here it was back with bows and whistles too on this terrible day, on this wonderful day.

 

Spike came up to Tildy and extended his arm to her...and what could she do?

 

What did she want to do?

 

She stood up and they all hooted and stood up too and so her Mother took one elbow and her Da took her arm and then with the others singing along; her Da, The Vampire, The Demon waltzed her grandly around the room of the still grander conservatory in her sky blue dress.

 

‘Down came a jumbuck to drink at that billabong,

Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee,

And he sang as he shoved that jumbuck in his tucker bag,

“You’ll come a waltzing Maltilda with me...”’

 

Her Da was spinning her about and part of her wanted to stop the moment, just stop the moment and cling to him and cry like a little girl and that same time she didn’t–she wanted the movement, the feeling of flying and to feel jolly even if for a little bit and. too soon, too soon, he twirled her to a stop and just as her heart was about to sag and dip her Ma was there, taking her in her arms and waltzing her around the room too...

 

‘Waltzing Maltilda, waltzing Maltilda,

You’ll come a waltzing Maltilda with me!’

 

 

Her Mom was waltzing her around and they were both laughing and then they were both crying and suddenly Tildy couldn’t keep it in:

 

“Ah Ma! He doesn’t love me Ma...he doesn’t.”

And her Mother slowed down the waltz a bit, to hug her tighter and she didn’t try to say it would be O.K. didn’t try to make it small or even bigger than it was...just held her until Tildy calmed somewhat and then her Mom said softly up to her ear

 

“I’m so happy for you honey, I’m so happy you have the guts to love him, your Father and I are so happy for you, we are so grateful you were born through us...”

It was a strange thing for her Mother to say, who seldom said such things...so it went inside her and made her want to cry even harder, but for different reasons.

 

And then it was Alexia waltzing her around and they turned it into a merry tromp and then Sol, who of course had to twirl her till her head was spinning and then finally...Paul.

 

Lovely, lovely Paul....he waltzed her quietly around and as the melody was coming to a close he gestured for the whole family to join in and they all came together with her in the center singing like a bunch of drunken sailors traveling from Saturday night into the reverence of Sunday morning and ending in a forever family circle as a whispered prayer.

 

Just us...

 

*

 

*

 

Epilogue

 

*

 

Safe to say, Paul had a thing or two to write in his journal tonight, but for the life of him he couldn’t seem to pick up the pen to do it.

 

He had raced to the family home after the recital to get it all down on paper, while it was fresh in his mind and experience because he knew even now, that he would be the family historian. He knew himself well enough to know that he saw his parents clearly and cleanly because had been given the amazing gift of being able to forgive them when he was still a very young boy.

 

He had been blessed with the ability to see their souls ever since he was a young child and so he had been in constant awe and admiration of their beauty both in singular and plural and he had needed that insight dearly because they had neglected him so dreadfully.

 

He had no single memory of being touched, cuddled or kissed before the age of six or so...not until Sol had come into their lives and while this may have been fodder for the creation of a zombie or serial murderer it had not happened that way simply because he could see the spirits of his Mother and Father. And the reality of their brilliant glowing true selves alongside the lack of affection could only manifest one question, why?

 

And when he looked into why, why, why and saw the pain they were in, it was easy, so easy to forgive them. Years and years, oh my, decades later Paul would become a teacher and this lesson learned as a child would become the cornerstone of everything he wrote.

 

In short it was this, substitute the word forgive with the word understand and then see what happens. Because when he focused on understanding his Mom and Da...forgiveness happened as easily as seasons change. It was a natural progression. And understanding one’s parents was practice for understanding the world.

 

He could write none of this at the moment however, because the house was filling with the sounds of laughter and happy clinks in the kitchen that meant food was being pulled out, libation poured and all were settling into keeping the party going. Keeping the moment moving and spinning into daylight probably.

 

Oh dear god, how he loved his family...how, how to put that on paper?

 

“Paul! Pauly? You up there?” It was Da hollering up the stair.

 

“Paul, come on down, pumpkin, Grampa Giles is on his way over, he was watching on cable and when he called, your Dad invited him over and anyone from the reception that wanted to come–seems, we’re having a party, pumpkin...”

 

 

Paul smiled...he was well into his twenties and his Ma just called him ‘pumkin.’ He wiped his eyes...what was he blubbering about?

 

“I’m going up to get him and drag his arse down–“

“--Spike...oh, all right...go get him, just don’t bruise him, Sally’s coming over.”

That got Paul’s attention and he hollered out without stopping to think,

 

“Sally? Sally Henderson?”

He got up and went to the landing to look down at his Ma and Da looking up at him, smiling and smiling and for a moment he was hit with such a blast of their brightness the breath was knocked out of him and he stared down at them, dizzy stars spinning around them all.

 

“What is it lad?” Spike asked, sudden concern in his voice

 

“No...nothing...I’m fine...I’m...I love you both, you know that right?” he said softly.

 

His Da looked up at him, his eyes bright with tears but said nothing and then his Mom said softly with her voice shaking more than a little:

 

“Thank you Pumpkin, thank you..”

 

“Oh...Buffy, luv...you simply must stop calling him that...what if you slip and say that in front of Ms. Sally Henderson, say? What will she think of our strapping young Paul then?”

“She is an American, I’m sure she will understand all about how names get changed in translation–“

“Mom! Um...so Sally is coming?”

 

Paul asked as he trotted down the steps, pen and paper left behind and blank for the moment. Sometimes one had to stop and enjoy the party so one had something juicy to write.

 

As he hit the floor his Mom and Da sandwiched Paul between them and with arms wrapped around beloved they walked him into the light of the kitchen where a cheer of welcome burst over him like a wave.

 

*

          

 

the end for now...

love you all...

Lizerrrbeathan

 

Back to the Skein

*