Re: FF: Fever Chapter one

["Christeen Demons" <Shyfox30@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Heh, It's promising to get interesting.:-) Stay tuned.
> Shyfox! I am so happy to be seeing more of your work! This new
> Sappho's Spell fic looks to be great! I can't wait for the next part!
>
> Nathan Campbell
> NathanCampbell@xxxxxxxxxxxx
>
> When sun sprays the earth
> with straight-falling flames,
> a cricket rubs his wings,
> scraping up thin sweet song.
> -Sappho
>
>
> Christeen Demons wrote:
> Fever
>
>
> Chapter one: Mother and Child reunion


_________________________________________________________________
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Disclaimer:  We all know the drill.  Characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer 
belong to Joss
whedon, mutant enemy, and I guess Upn.

Subtext:  You bet.  Willow and Buffy Rosenberg Summers are very happily 
married.  If this isn't your cup of tea...run...run away.:-)

This takes place somewhere in the seventh month of Willow's pregnancy...in 
the sappho's spell universe.


Fever


Chapter one:  Mother and Child reunion

No I would not give you false hope,
On this strange and mournful day.
But the mother and child reunion,
Is only a motion away.
Paul Simon

Willow sighed unhappily as she looked at her very pregnant form in the 
changing room mirror.  "You get any bigger Mrs. Summers, you're going to 
beat the blue whale out for largest mammal."  Willow told herself snidely, 
sticking her tongue out at her reflection.

Clothes shopping.  She hated clothes shopping, especially now that her body 
had decided that looking like an overblown balloon was a really good look 
for her.  But she needed new clothes...clothes that fit, and Buffy had 
suggested that a trip to the mall with her mother might be the perfect 
opportunity for the two of them to bond again, and deal with
some of the tension and pain of the past.

It might actually be working if her mother hadn't insisted on helping her 
pick out outfits, something Willow hadn't allowed since high school and 
Cordelia's constant harping on her mother's helping her see the 'softer side 
of Sears'.  Not to mention they had totally different
ideas of what style was.

"What do you think of this one, dear?"  Sheila Rosenberg asked, entering the 
stall from behind her and nearly scaring her into a heart attack with the 
hideously ugly, yellow jumpsuit that she had found from somewhere in the 
recesses of the stacks, no doubt.  "Isn't this cute?"

'No that isn't cute.  It looks like something a duck threw up.'  Sheila, 
hopelessly clueless as ever, missed the barely restrained eyerolling as 
Willow shook her head doubtfully at her mother in the mirror.

"I don't think Buffy would like me in that."  Willow replied instead, 
thinking that it was hard enough, in her opinion, to imagine why Buffy was 
still attracted to her big as a house form now.  If she wore 
that...'thing'...she wouldn't blame her wife if she ran off into the
night screaming.

Sheila stared at her in apparent confusion, as if she couldn't quite imagine 
the concept, then looked back at the 'treasure' in her hand.  'Well...maybe 
Buffy doesn't like yellow.' She considered briefly, wondering why they had 
painted the nursery that color if that was the case, then mentally shrugged. 
  "Well...they have it in other colors, dear.  Do you think she'd like it in 
light blue instead?"  Sheila wondered aloud, then wandered off to find it, 
before Willow could reply.

"But..."  Willow replied, to thin air, then growled in frustration.  'This 
is Buffy's idea of allowing us to bond?!!!'  She cursed her missing spouse, 
who she wished was here with her instead.  She certainly would have had more 
fun.  'This is torture!' She thought, gritting her teeth, then stopped 
herself, realizing her hormones were getting in the way and took a deep 
breath.

'Relax.'  She scolded herself, mentally.  'So she's not the most fashionably 
conscious person in the universe.  You knew that before you came here, so 
don't hold it against her. What's really bothering you?'  She asked her 
reflexion, which stared back at her pensively.

She didn't have to hunt around for an answer.  She knew it was all of the 
unresolved issues between them, the ones they had yet to discuss and which 
hovered around them like infected sores ready to burst at any moment.  It 
wasn't that she blamed her mother any more for what happened, she had 
forgiven her while Buffy was still in a coma.  But she
still felt the need to talk to her about it, and figure out why she had 
changed her mind, while her father still lived in the land of denial.

She knew that her parents had fought over it, that they had even seperated, 
her mother moving into a motel for the time being and she felt mildly guilty 
for the strain the situation had placed on her parents marriage, but she 
couldn't accept the blame her father seemed
determined to lay at her feet.  He had made his own choices, he'd made his 
own bed, and now he'd have to sleep in it.  Her ability to forgive him had 
been washed away when she'd learned what he'd tried to do to Buffy, to the 
both of them really.  The feeling of resentment had settled into her stomach 
like a stone, resolute and unmovable.  Hurting her was one thing...she could 
forgive that in a way, but hurting Buffy...well, there was just no going 
back now.

Pushing her heavier thoughts away for the moment, she looked at the pile of 
clothes in front of her that had grown in leaps and bounds thanks to her 
mother's 'help' and started seperating them into two seperate piles...the 
ones that she was going to keep, and the ones
that she was going to leave behind, abandoned in the dressing room.

'There'  She beamed at the much smaller pile of clothes, which she gathered 
into her arms. 'That should do it.'  She was satisfied by her choices, 
content that at the very least Buffy might like some of them, and now she 
was done with the self-heaped torture.  'Now, if
only I can pry mom away...'  She thought, envisioning Sheila hunting down 
still more of her 'treasures', and shuddered.

*****

"I'm glad we've gotten the chance to do this Willow."  Sheila said, as they 
walked down the main aisle of the mall, glancing at shops as she walked by.  
She'd only been a little upset at having to stop her invasion of Sears, the 
knowledge that Willow had been in
serious need of a bathroom spurring her on, not even noticing that the pile 
of clothes that Willow had bought was slimmed of it's additions, 
although...now that she thought about it...didn't they have a bathroom in 
Sears?

They had hunted down a bathroom on one of the side aisles, much to Willow's 
relief, she hadn't just used it as a reason to get out of there, she really 
had to go, and then mildly talked about what they were going to do next.  
Sheila suggested more shopping, which
had caused Willow to involuntarily shudder, and Willow had suggested window 
shopping, wanting to see more of the mall, it wasn't often that she got out 
here, after all.

"It was nice of Buffy to suggest this, and let me go in her place."  Sheila 
continued, to which Willow nodded, remembering the feel of shock that had 
run through her when Buffy had slipped two hundred dollars into her hand and 
said to have fun.  When Willow had looked at her, eyes boggling at the 
amount of money just given to her, Buffy had
shrugged sheepishly and muttered, 'Tips.'  Willow smiled, remembering how 
embarrased Buffy had looked, filled with warmth at how Buffy was always 
looking out for her, taking care of her, and wanting to give her anything 
that she needed.  When pressed Buffy would shrug and say offhandedly, 'Gotta 
take care of my girl.', but she knew it filled the Slayer with a greater 
pleasure just to be there for her. Clueing in that her mother was still 
talking, Willow honed back into the conversation.  "It's just that we 
haven't really had a chance to
talk lately."

Willow nodded slowly.  "Yeah...I know.."  she agreed, glancing up awkwardly 
at her mother.  'Are we finally going to talk about it?'  She wondered, 
feeling her stomach clench. It was what she wanted, and yet...she didn't 
know if she was ready for it.  So, she turned
to her only recourse...babbling.  "But with school...and...wow...the 
baby..." her eyes widened, feeling her stomach for the reality check that 
offered.  It was so hard to believe sometimes, if she didn't actually reach 
down and feel it, of course her baby moving around
inside her was also a really big clue.  "...and Buffy..." her body 
_expression_ expansive to include all that they had been through in recent 
months.  "It's been really...busy."

'And the understatement of the year award goes to...Willow 
Rosenberg-Summers.'  She could actually hear the cheering in her mind, and 
had to bite back a smile.  The smell of the food court up ahead started 
teasing her nose, and ergo her stomach, and she suddenly
realized that she was hungry.

"Hey."  she said, quickly, placing a hand on her mother's arm, causing her 
to stop quick.  "There's a buffet here...do you wanna...get something to 
eat?"  She asked, her stomach rumbling greedily as she felt her baby kick in 
assent.

"You're hungry?"  Sheila asked, feeling suddenly worried.  "You're not in 
any danger of passing out are you?"  She flashed back to when she was 
pregnant, feeling nauseous and faint all through her pregnancy.  Some 
women's morning sickness lasted only three months...hers had lasted the 
whole term.

'She's doing a great job of being the overprotective Grandma.'  Willow 
thought, her hormones kicking in again.  'Buffy would be proud.'  "Nope.  
I'm just hungry."  She answered calmly.  Then added, quite innocently, as 
she felt another response from her hungry child.  "I think Buffy Junior is 
too."

Sheila was briefly taken aback by the joke, not 'quite' used to the reality 
of her baby having a baby fathered by another woman.  The science of that, 
quite frankly boggled her mind. She couldn't imagine how they had managed it 
really, though Willow had said something
about a spell...not that she believed in witchcraft, but the evidence of it 
was staring her in the face.  And, as the great Sherlock Holmes once said, 
take away all other rational possibilities, and whatever was left, no matter 
how improbable, had to be the answer.

Blinking off the uncertainty, she put her total focus on her daughter and 
her grandchild.  "Well, I can't have my grandchild going hungry, now can I?  
I remember how hungry you used to get all the time"  she said, softly, a 
touch of remembrance in her face as she placed a trembling hand on Willow's 
abdomen.

Willow placed a hand over her mother's, a tremulous smile on her lips, as 
her mother acknowledged for the first time the baby inside her as her 
family.  "Still am."  She managed through the lump in her throat.

Sheila Rosenberg took a long look at the woman her daughter had become and 
gulped back a wave of emotion herself.  "Come on...let's go eat."

*****

Willow wrinkled her nose at the salad in front of her, cursing the little 
voice in the back of her head, which sounded remarkably like Buffy, which 
had insisted that she eat it.  'It's healthy...it's good for the baby...you 
can have spare ribs afterwards.'  It teased, cajoled,
and even bribed, until she'd been forced to pick up the salad, just to shut 
it up.

'There...are you happy?'  She'd thought back to it, grousingly, picturing in 
her mind an image of a brown bunny rabbit wrinkling it's nose.  'I so can't 
wait to have this baby.'  She'd thought irritably, walking over to the 
table, where her mother already sat, eating a chicken salad sandwhich.  
Sheila had looked up at her in question, but upon seeing the disgruntled 
look on her daughter's face, wisely chose not to comment on her choice of 
food.

"Everything all right?"  Sheila asked, taking a sip of iced tea as she 
waited for an answer.

"Yeah."  Willow grumbled, reluctantly starting to eat the leafy green 
vegetables.  "I'm just sick of all these salads."  After eating salad for 
seven months she swore that if she never ate salad again after the baby came 
it would be too soon.

Sheila raised a bemused eyebrow, after watching Willow pick at her salad for 
a few minutes, she knew she was hungry.  "You know...you could have gotten 
something else."

Willow looked at her and shrugged.  "It's good for the baby."  She repeated 
the voice's mantra, telling herself to stop being so finicky and just hurry 
up and eat it so she could get to something else already.

The topic looked like something Willow really wasn't interested in pursuing, 
so Sheila searched blindly for another one.  "How's school going?  You 
are...still going right?" Sheila asked, suddenly worried that her pregnant 
daughter had dropped out...after all, it
wasn't as if she'd know the difference, she thought, scolding herself for 
the absence she had taken in her daughters life.

"Yes...of course."  Willow replied, looking at her mother as if she'd lost 
her mind.  'What does she think, that I'd just drop out?'  Willow thought, 
feeling somewhat offended.  "I mean...my grades slipped a little when 
Buffy...but they're getting better again.  Buffy has
to retake some this summer, but she'll be all caught up by the time fall 
classes start again."

Sheila nodded, feeling like she'd slipped somehow.  "What about Buffy?  Is 
she liking her new job?"  She couldn't help bouncing from topic to topic, 
wanting so desperately to catch up with her daughter's life.  She couldn't 
blame anyone else but herself for missing the
aspects of her daughters life she was now playing catch up with. Badly too 
she mused.

Willow nodded, feeling like she was getting somewhat back on track in the 
conversation. "She loves it...she says it reminds her of..."  Her eyes 
widened as she thought about what she was about to say, that Buffy had 
compared it to Slaying, except, no vamps, just mostly morons coming over 
from the bad side of the 'neighborhood'. No...she couldn't say that. 
"...well, and the tips are good."

"Good...good."  Sheila nodded, concentrating on her sandwich for a moment as 
she tried to think of another topic.  "Have you decided what you're going to 
name the baby yet? And what about trust funds, have you given any 
consideration about those yet, Willow? It's very important to make sure the 
baby is taken care of."

Willow kind of felt like she was conducting an interview with her own 
mother.  'All of these questions...when will they end?'  She thought in 
frustration.  She had envisioned a nice leisurely chat, not the third 
inquisition.  "Ummm...no...we're going to wait until she's born, name her 
when we see her...and I'm not sure, but I think Joyce is looking into that." 
  Willow paused for breath, hoping she wasn't about to be bombarded with 
more questions. She decided that it was her turn.  "How's the motel?"  She 
asked, causing her mother to
look up at her in surprise.  "Is it comfortable?"  She had wanted to stay 
away from any topic that might lead into a discussion about Ira, but asking 
about the motel was just asking for trouble.

"It's fine."  Sheila responded, her voice normal.  "It's clean."

"We would've...invited you to stay with us...but there really wasn't 
room...and I didn't want to cause any more friction between you and 
d...Ira."  She consciously stopped herself from calling him Dad, which 
Sheila noticed right away, but stopped short of saying what the problem was.

It hurt, hearing Ira's name mentioned.  They had so many years spent 
together between them, and yet now it was like he was a stranger.  His 
actions no longer made sense to her anymore.  And when she thought about the 
way she had reacted when she'd found out, neither did hers.  She supposed 
that they were both spooked, clinging to their belief's and
their religion because they were too afraid to deal with reality.  And 
Willow had been the one to suffer because of it.  "Do you want to talk about 
it?"  She asked, knowing that she didn't have to elaborate on what 'it' was.

It was funny.  Up until now Willow had thought that she was ready for this 
conversation, but now that it was here, sitting between them like a jolly, 
pink elephant, she discovered that she wasn't as ready as she had thought.  
"Not really."  She mumbled, taking a sip of water, wishing silently that 
they could go back to the inane conversation of a few minutes before.

The words broke Sheila's heart.  Was there really no way to get past the 
tension between them?  No way to tear down the wall that had been thrust 
up...a wall designed to protect Willow from her parents.  She knew that she 
was to blame, her and Ira both, that she could
have been supportive from the beginning, like Joyce had been, she'd missed 
so many special things.  The first exciting days and months of her 
daughter's pregnancy, her daughter's wedding, Willow hadn't even been able 
to have her own father guide her down the aisle.  It made her want to weep.  
"He'll come around.  I know he will...he won't want
to miss out on his granddaughter's life...like he missed out on his 
daughter's."  The statement was both an acknowledgement of her guilt, and a 
plea to be let back in, but she could tell from the suddenly resolved, and 
hard look on her daughter's face that she had just pushed the wrong button.

"I don't care.  It doesn't matter anymore if he 'comes around' or not."  
Willow said, her voice an uncharacteristic growl as all the pain Ira had 
caused came flooding back.

"Willow...he's your father."  Sheila said, shocked at the venom in her 
daughter's tone.

Willow took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, to try to get her point 
of view across to her mother.  "Mom, if you want to keep him in your life, 
that's up to you..."  It wasn't as if she was suggesting she divorce him or 
anything.  "...but as far as I'm concerned...he's
burned that bridge."

"What could he have done that's so bad?"  Sheila asked, wondering why Willow 
would forgive her and not her father.

"I don't want to talk about it."  Willow said tightly, urging her mother to 
drop it.  It wasn't as if she could tell her that he'd had Buffy locked up 
in an insane asylum, with the intent to drive them apart.  That really would 
destroy her parents marriage.

"Willow..."  Sheila pressed, wanting to get to the bottom of this.

"No!"  Willow slammed her fork to the table, her temper finally getting to 
the better of it. "Just drop it all right?!"  Her voice carried louder than 
she had intended, bringing curious stares from the nearby diners.  Feeling 
the need to get away from her mother's insistent
questions, Willow got up and walked out of the restuarant, not waiting for 
her mother, who sat there dumbfounded for a few moments, before she 
scrambled up to pay the bill, anxious to follow her.

*****

Willow sped through the mall, trying to keep ahead of her mother, and 
futilely trying to stop the rampaging emotions that were filling her body 
with rage.  'Great Willow...just great.  Way to overreact.'  She thought, 
wiping the streaming tears from her face, not
paying attention to the people that stopped to gawk at her as she raced by.  
In fact, she was going so fast that when she turned a corner, that she 
practically bowled an old lady over, their bodies colliding in the aisles.  
It was a mere matter of luck that kept them on their
feet, and Willow was apologizing profusely as she helped her to a nearby 
bench.

"I'm so sorry. I was going too fast."  She apologized as they sat on the 
bench.

"Completely my fault dear, I wasn't looking where I was going."  The old 
woman stopped, taking a good long look at her, through brilliant hazel eyes. 
  "Don't I know you dear...you remind me of one of my students...but I can't 
quite...Willow...Willow Rosenberg?  My
you've...blossomed."

Willow blinked, trying to remember where she knew her from.  Then it hit 
her.  High school, junior year...english class.  "Mrs. Kravitz?"  Willow 
broke out into a smile, her whole face lighting up.  She had really loved 
English class...or more importantly...had loved watching Buffy in English 
class.

"Well...what have you been up to dear?"  Mrs Kravitz asked, smiling benignly 
at her.

"Well...besides the obvious..."  Willow started, looking down at her belly, 
earning a warm chuckle from her old teacher.  "I'm in college 
now...and...ooh, I got married."  She said, flashing her wedding ring at 
her.

"Congratulations...who's the lucky fella?" Mrs. Kravitz asked, a warm 
twinkle in her eyes.

"Uhhh, actually...do you remember Buffy Summers?"  Willow asked, feeling her 
face starting to flush already.

"Yes...but..."  Her eyes, clouded over looking as if she were trying to 
connec the dots. Then cleared, as if inspiration struck.  "Oh yes, I 
remember now.  I read about you two getting hitched in the paper.  And I bet 
it was a beautiful wedding, held on the beach and everything."

Willow nodded, blushing.  "Well, it seems you're very happy...but you 
weren't very happy a few minutes ago.  Do you mind if I ask why?"  Mrs 
Kravitz asked, her voice rich with concern.

Willow supposed the tear tracks were still drying on her cheeks, and she 
reached up to rub the traces.  "It's a long story...I don't want to trouble 
you with it."

"No trouble at all, Willow.  If you want to tell it, I'd be happy to 
listen."  Mrs Kravitz responded kindly, and before Willow knew it, she was 
spilling the whole sordid story to the woman.

"...and I keep snapping at everyone.  And it seems like my hormones control 
my brain a lot more than I do."  Willow finished up, looking into the kind, 
friendly face of Mrs Kravitz, not quite able to believe she had just blabbed 
it all out like that.

"Well...that's what being pregnant is all about my dear...you've got to take 
the bad with the good."  Mrs. Kravitz said, sympathetically, patting her 
hand.

"Yeah, and that's another thing."  Willow said, ready to start off on a 
whole new tangent. "I'm so nervous...I mean I'm really nervous 
about...well...you know...I've never done this before...and I haven't told 
anyone about it because...well...because I don't want to seem
like I'm this great big baby...and Buffy handles pain so well...but I'm so 
afraid I won't and..."  The old woman's eyes opened wide as Willow's words 
burst forth, threatening to bury her in an avalanche of sound.

"Yes...yes...it's what every woman fears...and trust me I've delivered two 
myself, but once you look into the eyes of your newborn baby you'll find 
that all the pain in the world has been worth it."  Mrs. Kravitz said 
sagely.

"Yeah, it's just the getting there part that's worrying me."  Willow smiled, 
nervously.

"You'll do just fine dear...just remember to breathe."  The old woman said, 
patting her literally and figuratively on the head.

Willow was just about to thank her when she heard her mother calling her 
name.  "There you are."  Sheila called, panting for breath as she hustled up 
to the two women, the younger of the two looking up at her mother 
sheepishly.  "I've been looking for you everywhere."  Sheila paused, taking 
a breath.  She had been frantic, looking from shop to
shop for any sign of her daughter. She didn't know what she would do if she 
had to go back to the Summers' house without her.  When she had spotted her 
sitting on this bench, the relief she had felt has almost knocked her off 
her feet.  "Willow, I'm so sorry I upset you."

"No, I'm sorry, Mom."  Willow, who had been settled by her chat with Mrs. 
Kravitz responded.  "I shouldn't have left the way I did.   That was 
childish of me...not to mention stupid.  Where did I think I was going 
anyway?  It's not like I drove here."  Willow chuckled, mirthlessly.

"Willow..."  Sheila started, but Willow cut her off.

"I just want to go home."  Willow responded, feeling tired and worn out.  
"My back is killing me."  She rubbed at the small of her back, but it didn't 
seem to alleviate the nagging pain that was driving her crazy.

"All right."  Sheila responded, then looked at the old woman watching the 
exchange with interested eyes.  "Um..."  Sheila said, hunting her memory for 
the woman's identity.  She knew that she knew her from somewhere, she just 
couldn't place her.

"Mrs. Kravitz...I was your daughter's English teacher."  The old woman 
enlightened, her eyes sparkling.

"Oh...well...Thank you...for..."

"It was no problem, dear really.  I enjoyed running into Willow again...she 
was one of my favorite students, you know."   Mrs Kravitz sais, noticing the 
way Willow blushed with the compliment.  Sheila smiled at the sentiment, 
then gathered the shopping bags. "Ready?"  She asked, seeing Willow's 
assenting nod, and waved goodbye to Mrs. Kravitz.

"Thanks for the...pep talk." Willow said, feeling much better about the 
situation.

"Any time, dear."  Mrs Kravitz said, the smile never leaving her face.  "So 
long."

*****

"oooh...yeah...just a little to the left..."

"I think you're getting just a little too much enjoyment out of this."

'Too much enjoyment?  Was she kidding?' The thought made it across her 
brain, but she didn't verbalize it.  Instead..."Down a little..."  She said, 
her voice tinged with urgency. "Yeah, that's it...just like that."

A warm chuckle filled the room as Buffy watched her wife wiggle with 
pleasure.

"You guys really need to get a room."  Xander complained, watching the 
action unfolding with wide-eyed wonder.

Buffy lifted hazel blue eyes up to stare at him, then winked as she grinned. 
  "You're just jealous."  she retorted, kissing a nearby shoulder in 
emphasis.

They were curled up comfortably on the couch, Buffy sitting behind her wife 
so she could have better access to her back, which she was taking great 
pleasure in massaging, feeling the tension eke out of her wife's spine and 
shoulders, until she resembled a jellyfish.

'I guess clothes shopping is hard work.'  Buffy thought, a smile quirking on 
her lips as she remembered how Willow had practically begged her to give her 
a massage.  Not that she'd needed it, Buffy thought ruefully, she just loved 
to touch her wife's back, feeling the
softness of it underneath her hands, but she also loved seeing that puppy 
dog _expression_ on her wife's face.  The way the soulful green eyes pleaded 
with her, and the little elfin mouth curled into a pout.

'Ah, this is the life.'  Buffy mused, seriously content with her life as it 
was at this point.  It just seemed to her that her life couldn't get any 
better...true there was the baby's birth to look forward to, everyone 
gearing up for that big day, and she admitted that she couldn't
wait to hold her baby in her arms, and feel the wonder of it.  But for 
now..as it was, her life was perfect.  'Better stop thinking like that.'  
She thought cynically, 'That's usually when you get yourself into trouble.'

"Hey...there was a whole hand on skin thing happening just a second ago."  
Willow muttered, feeling Buffy's unmoving hand on the small of her back.  
"You sleeping?"  She asked, craving the resuming of those hands on her 
muscles.

"Just thinking."  Buffy replied, offhandedly, continuing her hands motions, 
in gentle circles.

"Hmm."  Willow purred.  "You are so good at that."

Buffy blushed at her wife's praise, then kissed the back of her neck.  
"Thank you." She murmured into the rich red locks.

"mmm...welcome."  Willow muttered sleepily.

"They are so cute together."  Joyce said, from the doorway in which she was 
standing in, watching the couple interact.

"They're...in love."  Sheila mumbled, bearing witness to a sensitive scene 
that she hadn't been privy to before.  "For a long time now.  How did I miss 
it?"

Joyce regarded Sheila for a long moment, eyeing her curiously.  Something 
that she had been wanting to ask for a long time tiptoed to her tongue but 
she wasn't sure she should ask it...after all, it really wasn't any of her 
business...but then again..."Do you mind if I ask
you a personal question?"  Joyce asked, as she made her way back into the 
kitchen.

"Sure."  Sheila asked, sitting down at the kitchen table while Joyce handed 
her a steaming cup of coffee.

"What changed your mind?"  Joyce asked, point blank.

Sheila paused for a second, not sure she understood the question.  "I'm not 
sure what you mean?"

"You were against their relationship and the baby from the moment you found 
out about it. What changed?"  Joyce couldn't help feeling a twinge of anger 
at the woman who had abandoned her own daughter after hearing the news...and 
now all she wanted to know was why.

'She stared at her hands trying to figure out what to say. How do you 
encompass such a level of uncertainty.  Her daughter..with another woman? 
Sweet, small, innocent child in the arms and bed of another...female. And 
pregnant from that joining. Which flew in the
face of the most absolutes of her beliefs in this world. How do you say all 
that? "Fear." She finally croaked out.

Joyce took a breath, pausing to let that sink in.  She could understand 
it...in a way.  Hadn't she had her own case of flying off the handle.  Her 
total overreaction to finding out Buffy was the slayer flooded her mind 
again.  'If you walk out that door, don't even think about
coming back.'  Hadn't she done the exact same thing Ira and Sheila had done 
with Willow? It was only through that experience that she had learned not to 
do it again a second time. "I can understand that...in a way..."  She 
started, opening up that door for Sheila to see.
"When I first found out that Buffy was...is...the Slayer...I reacted the 
same damn way."

Sheila looked at her cautiously, a glimmer of hope starting to shine from 
the recesses of her eyes.  "What happened?"  She asked, her curiosity 
getting the better of her.

Joyce shrugged, the old guilt flaring up like a torch.  "I gave her an 
ultimatum."  Joyce said simply.  "I told her that if she left, not to come 
back."  Sheila winced, and Joyce had to nod in agreement.  "Not one of my 
prouder moments, I can tell you.  But...she...had something to do...and she 
did it."  Buffy was a lot stronger than she'd ever given her credit for 
before then...a lot stronger than her mother.  She'd stuck to her 
convictions, and carried out her assigned task, even though it had shattered 
her heart to do it.  "She ran away for
three months...nobody could find her, even though we all looked.  But she 
came back at the end of summer, and when she told me the whole story..."  
Joyce shrugged, remembering how painful that conversation had been.  "I 
swore to her some way we would work it all out...and I swore to myself never 
to react that badly again."

Sheila marveled at what the other woman had been through.  "I guess you had 
one up on us...we...never expected anything...like this."

Joyce's eyes twinkled.  "Takes a lot of getting used to...expecting the 
unexpected."

"Why did I change my mind?"  Sheila asked, thinking about the question long 
and hard. "When we heard about Buffy's accident on the news...we 
were...shocked.  Or at least...I was..."  Ira had been...the epitome of 
self-righteousness.  Talking about how they should go to the hospital and 
bring their daughter home.  But when Sheila had seen the
devestation in her daughter's eyes, in every line of her daughter's face, 
she had realized what they had been doing to her.  "I saw how much pain she 
was in. I couldn't stand seeing my little girl like that.  It broke my 
heart."

Joyce could sympathize with the answer, but she wasn't done...not yet.  She 
knew there had to be something else...something deeper.  "Why didn't it 
break your heart earlier? What kept you from believing when she simply told 
you? Why did it take my own daughter, nearly dying to protect her love, for 
you to believe your daughter?"  She asked,
in staccato, letting the anger in her show.

"Pain." She shrugged. "Maybe it was the pain she had. I could delude myself 
with the ideas of a 'crush' or maybe infatuation. But they can't create that 
kind of pain she had inside. Inside and out."

"Have you talked with Willow about any of this?"  Joyce asked, knowing the 
relationship was still strained.

Sheila shook her head.  "I've tried...but...the words just seem to come out 
all wrong.  And there is so much anger...so much resentment...especially at 
her father."

Joyce barely refrained from giving her opinion of that man, knowing that it 
would do more harm than good at this point.  "Keep trying.  A relationship 
with your daughter is important to have...and it won't be easy...and it will 
take time.  The relationship wasn't harmed over night.  But I would...keep 
trying."

*****

The old woman sat, gently rocking back and forth in her rocking chair her 
eyes seeing nothing and everything as her hands busily knitted brightly 
colored yarn together into a pattern.  It was going to be a caftan when she 
was done...she thought it would look lovely
hanging over the couch in the living room.

The only sound came from an antique stenograph which played old records with 
a haunting melody.  The old woman hummed along to the tune, picking up words 
and singing them just slightly off key.  "Have you ever seen a dream 
walking, well I did. Have you ever seen a dream talking, well I did."

Footsteps interrupted the melody, but the old woman seemed not to hear them, 
continuing to loop and thread the yarn with quick and nimble fingers.  They 
stopped, two inches from her right, and the woman behind the footsteps spoke 
up hesitantly.  "So sorry to bother you...but the others were 
wondering...did you get it?"

Green eyes flashed briefly. "It's all right dear. This isn't buisness so 
we're all a little less formal."  The woman standing visibly relaxed, as 
long as it wasn't business there was little danger.  "As for the answer to 
your question...of course."

...to be continued.




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