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Future Imperfect by Lilachigh
 
Chp 10 Were they blind?
 
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Future Imperfect

Chp 10 Were they blind?



Joyce Summers-Green was bored, bored, bored! And miserable. She sat on the porch swing, one bare foot tucked under her, the other kicking backwards and forwards against the porch railings, sending the swing spinning, first one way, then the other.

Staying with Granny and Grandad had been fun at first. It was cool to learn that Grandad was a vampire and that being a witch wasn’t as dreadful as Mom made it sound all the time. But Billy was being odd and sometimes her brain hurt, as if it was pressing on the inside of her skull.

And she missed Mom and Dad. She spun the swing round again, pretending that she didn’t have that burning sensation in her eyes and nose that meant she was going to cry. She never cried. But she did miss her parents. Even when Mommy was all tight-lipped cross, telling her off and Daddy sighed and told her to control herself and not do magic because it upset Mom, they were still always there.

She wasn’t at all sure that they loved her: not like they loved Billy. They thought Twin was a normal little boy who liked boy things like baseball and model aeroplanes. Dumbass was a word Joyce had learnt at school recently. It was a good word for her parents who could be so stupid where Twin was concerned.

Not that she’d ever tell on him, of course, and it was only recently that she’d realised he could do the cool thought and feeling thingy. But they’d never guessed he was the one who’d stolen all the chocolate chip cookies last year and NOT HER! Even when she’d told them she hadn’t magiced them out of the tin, they hadn’t believed her and sent her to her room for lying.

Which, of course, was another dumbass thing to do because she just took herself off somewhere else. That time she’d gone to the world where everyone floated through the air. That had been cool.

She wondered now if she would ever be allowed to go home. Billy would. She knew that. But then Billy wouldn’t go without her. Joyce worried at her thumbnail. Was that still true? Would Billy go home without her? He missed Mom and Dad, too. Perhaps she’d have to stay here forever as punishment for being a witch, even if Granny said it wasn’t a naughty thing to be.

She scowled violently. She was always being told no to do things, but no one ever told her why not. Joyce spun the swing around faster and faster. She liked being a witch! She didn’t want to be a normal girl! There, she’d said it. Normal was boring.

It was a sultry afternoon again; there had been storms all week, crashing thunder and lightning hissing through the sky. Joyce had had a really great idea for her and Billy to go up into the clouds to see what the thunder looked like close up. You might even get to see where the lightning started from. But Billy had just given her that poop-face expression of his and told her she was stupid, that thunder couldn’t be seen.

“Bet it so could,” she muttered now, wishing it wasn’t so hot. She made a little snow shower fall on her head for a few moments, then heard Granny yelling, “Joyce! Stop that!” from the bedroom window and flicked the snow away with a guilty finger.

Grandad Spike was having his afternoon lie down in a darkened room. It was something to do with being a vampire and not liking the sunlight. But there wasn’t any at the moment and Joyce didn’t completely understand why Granny had to lie down with him, because Granny was a Slayer, not a vampire. Still, why ever she did, the rest obviously made her feel good because she always had a funny little smile on her face when she came downstairs again.

Joyce sighed. Grown-ups were difficult. Spells and magic were far easier.
It was hot, so why not make it cold? She was hungry – why did she have to wait for Granny to cook her meal. Why couldn’t she just wave her hand – and hey! Cheeseburger!

She was munching when her twin appeared from behind the house and swung up to sit astride the porch railings. “You’ll get grounded if Granny finds you doing that,” he said smugly.

Joyce stuck out her tongue, waving the slice of pickle that was lying on it at him. “Go tell them, then!” she jeered. “I don’t care.”

Billy’s bright blue eyes went blank for a second; as if he was thinking of something important. Joyce stared at him. Twin was acting odd. “Mom’s worried,” he said suddenly.

Joyce felt her heart give a little skip and she banished the rest of her burger into thin air. “What do you mean? Worried about me doing witching again?”

Billy frowned. “No, it’s a different sort of worry.”

“You’re making it up! We’re too far away for you to feel her thoughts.”

Billy shrugged. “I know but I still can. Maybe she’s super worried today.”

“Is Daddy cross, too?”

Billy’s eyes went blank again, then he looked puzzled. “I don’t know. There’s a “that was a great golf swing” sort of feeling and a “I hate golf; thank god I never have to play it” feeling, all at the same time.”

Joyce jumped out of the swing and joined her twin sitting on the rail. “But he’s not worried or cross about us?”

Billy shook his blond head. He was surprised that he could ‘feel’ across so many miles. Usually he had to be close to people to know what was in their minds. Perhaps it was because it was Mom and Dad that he could do this. Or – was he getting better at it? No, that couldn’t be true otherwise he wouldn’t have two different feelings for the same person.

“What did Mom say when you spoke to her last night?”

Joyce shrugged. “Just about us being good, not annoying Granny and Grandad, usual stuff. She’d made some new curtains for the family room and baked Dad an angel cake, then she hung up really fast which annoyed Granny because she wanted to speak to her.” The hazel eyes sharpened and she frowned. “One thing was weird. Mom giggled when she told me about the cake.”

Billy stared at her and, for a brief second, plunged inside her mind to check she wasn’t keeping anything secret. Then he zoomed out again because he knew twin would be upset if she realised what he was doing and anyway, they never had secrets from each other. Well, okay, the fact that he could make people change their minds was a big secret, but he felt that this was one he couldn’t share. Not at the moment.

He checked on Granny and Grandad again, but all he got was the whirling purple and pink cloud he always got from them during the afternoon when Grandad was having his lie down. Billy sighed. Grown-ups could be so boring! There was nothing to do here.

“Let’s go watch TV,” he said.

“It isn’t working,” Joyce yawned. “I think the power’s gone off again. Granny says it’s the storm. It should have broken two days ago but it’s still circling round and round. Maybe there’ll be a tornado I wish you’d let us go and have a closer look.”

Billy pulled a face. “That’s stupid. You can’t go messing about looking at lightning, J. You’ll get all burnt up. Or get me burnt up.’

“Someone’s coming,” Joyce said, ignoring him. A long black convertible was gliding slowly up the drive. “Granny’s got a visitor.”

Billy groaned. “Oh no. Come on. Let’s hide. We’ll have to hand round cookies and be polite and they’ll say ‘Oh are these the grandkids. My they’ve got your ears and nose and some old auntie’s hands and ask what we want to do when we grow up.“

“We could go somewhere cool. I mean cold as well as cool. How about Greenland?”

Billy sighed and was just about to grab her hand and pull her around the side of the house when a tall man with black hair got out of the car, slamming the door shut. He stopped when he saw them – stopped, Billy thought with a private smile – as if he’d just walked into a door. Bam!

Angel hadn’t really believed it, even when Shanny had sat opposite him and handed over the little photo of Connor. There had to be some sort of mistake. How could his son be the father of Spike’s grandchildren? It was ridiculous.

All he’d wanted then was for Shanny, with her remarkable resemblance to Buffy’s mother, to leave. He’d told her, yes, OK, he’d do a little work on her problem and let her know the outcome. He thought he’d suggested that she didn’t mention this to anyone, least of all her parents. Then, after she’d gone, with the feeling of her fingers warm against his, he’d shut himself into his room and sat, staring blankly at the wall, remembering…

He’d toyed briefly with the idea of contacting Connor, then dismissed it. If he had two grandchildren, he needed to see them. Whatever excuse he made to Buffy and Spike, he had to see them for himself. He knew that he would know. There surely had to be some resemblance to Connor, some family sense that he would know.

The thought of seeing Buffy again had made him hesitate, but not for long. He had a legitimate reason. Or rather an illegitimate one! After the splitting of the Shanshu prophecy between him and Spike, after he’d realised that the two people he still loved were destined to be together, he hadn’t gone out of his way to stay in touch.

What was the point? They would age and die. He wouldn’t. He could walk in the sunlight, Spike couldn’t. Spike could father a child. Hell, Angel had already been there, done that, changed the diapers! He’d been first with Buffy and first to be a father. He could afford to make their lives easier by standing back and not getting involved.

When they’d become grandparents, he – yes, OK, he’d admit it – he’d been jealous. He and Buffy were the two who had planned fat grandchildren. OK, fat grandchildren who would never have been born, but even so…. The thought that Spike had beaten him rankled.

But now. He was a grandfather too! Of the same kids!

But even as he drove the hundreds of miles to visit the two people he knew he had to consult, he hadn’t truly believed it. Not until he got out of the car and saw the two children standing on the porch, watching him.

He found he was smiling. The girl was Buffy all over again; long blonde hair pulled back in two braids, sharp, greeny-hazel eyes that summed you up and found you wanting. There was nothing of Connor in her looks. The boy, standing one pace behind her - yes, Spike’s eyes but the fine blond curls weren’t Spike’s. Angel stared at the way the hair lay, the shape of Billy’s head, the tilt of his chin. Oh God, his fingers could trace that chin, the line of that mouth, instinctively. He’d lain awake, night after night, gazing at them in adoration. He remembered drawing that face over and over again when -

Why in heaven’s name hadn’t Buffy and Spike seen the resemblance? Was it because the resemblance was slightly blurred on a boy? Were they both blind? Dru used to call her Grandmother, he remembered, wincing. He wondered with a shudder, how Darla would have reacted to being a real grandmother with a grandson who resembled her so much.

Upstairs, Buffy came out of the shower, towelling her short hair dry. She’d pulled on shorts and T-shirt and gazed in loving exasperation at where her lover lay, star-fished across the bed on his stomach, his pale skin banded with shade from the slats of the blinds inside the curtains.

“Are you getting up at all today?”

“Can’t. You killed me, woman.”

“No staying power, that’s the trouble with vamps. Just because you’re getting older and less – ” She shrieked as a hand shot out and dragged her down onto the bed. Even after all these years, she tended to forget how fast he could react.

“No, you idiot – let me up. I’ve got to check on the twins.”

“Come back to bed,” Spike said drowsily. “What trouble can they get into in half an hour?”

Buffy kissed his shoulder and pulled herself free. “Knowing our witchy granddaughter, that is a very stupid thing to say,” she commented. “I used to think Billy would keep her out of bad trouble, but if you’re right about him, I don’t think I can rely on that happening any more.”

She sat down at the dressing-table and tried to brush her hair into some sort of order, wondering how she’d ever managed when it was long.

“Did Shanny say she’d be home tonight when the twins ring her and David?” Spike asked, sighing as he sat up and reached for his jeans.

“Nope. I told you, I never even got to speak to her. When Joyce tried to pass the phone to me, Shanny made some excuse to her and rang off. Typical. That girl thinks she can avoid any problem by running away. It drives me crazy! I think we’re going to have to go and – what’s up?”

She had turned to look at him because it was always weird speaking to an empty mirror. He was sitting on the side of the bed, head tilted to one side, an odd expression on his face – anger, affection, fear….

“Spike?”

“Can’t you smell him? Sense him?” He vamped out briefly, then shimmered back to human face and nodded towards the window. “Check it out, Buffy. I think an old friend has come to call.”

Puzzled, Buffy looked at him for a moment, then pushed the curtain and blinds aside and gazed down into the yard. The twins were sitting on the top porch railing, shoulder to shoulder, and standing facing them, looking stunned and bemused, the sun blazing down on his unprotected head, was a man she hadn’t seen for over twenty years, her first love, Angel.

To be continued.
 
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