Q & A
by Colleen Hillerup

Buffy sat the little girl at the kitchen table. “Can I have my sippy cup?”

“Meredith, you’re too old for that sippy cup.” She couldn’t resist the tiny pout. “Oh, okay. But you drink all your milk.”

“Yes mommy.” She took a little drink. “Mommy, how did you meet daddy?”

[He tried to kill me.] “At school, honey.”

“And he was really, really nice. Right?”

[He was a homicidal vampire with a nutcase girlfriend.] “Yes, baby. Drink your milk.”

“What did you do on your first date?”

[Got drunk and watched him cheat at kitten poker.] “We went out to a club with your Uncle Clem.”

“Oh.” She took another drink, as Buffy stacked the dishes. “When did you know you loved daddy, mommy?”

[When I yanked down his zipper, jumped on him and looked into his eyes. Not that I’d admit it to either of us.] “Oh, honey, I just knew.”

“And then you got married right away, right?”

[And then I treated him like garbage for the better part of a year. Until he finally snapped.] “Not right away. We didn’t want to rush things.”

“And then you decided to have me,” the little girl grinned, knowing that every important story would inevitably lead to her.

[The souled vampire manual had a few blank pages.] “Sure, honey. Mommy and Daddy wanted to make someone else special to love.”

“And you were both very, very happy.”

[Oh, yes.] “Oh, yes.”

The little girl climbed down from the chair, and pulled her mother down to her level. Putting her little arms around Buffy’s neck, she said, “I love you, Mommy. Do you love me?”

[I love you both so much I think I’d die again if anything happened to either of you. I love you both so much that sometimes I think my heart will burst right out of my chest. I love you both so much I would kill to protect you.] “Yes, Sweetheart. I love you and daddy very, very much.”

Q&A #2
by Colleen Hillerup

“Wake up, daddy!” The little girl climbed onto her father’s chest and yelled into his face.

Spike opened one bleary eye. “Hello, cutie. Let daddy sleep. Please.” He looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand. “Meredith, it’s only noon. How many times do mommy and daddy have to tell you?”

“Don’t wake daddy up when sun’s up.” She jumped up and down. “Come play with me, daddy.”

“Where’s mommy?”

“Doing laundry in the basement. I was helping.”

“And why aren’t you helping now?” He tried to pull the blankets over his head, but little hands pulled them back.

“I want to play.” She threw her arms around him. “I want to play with daddy.”

“Oh, bloody hell, Meredith ...”

“Bloody hell,” she called out in a sing song voice. “Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell ...”

Spike gently placed his hand over his daughter’s mouth. “Shh, pet. Mommy will hear. Mommy wouldn’t be very happy with daddy.”

“I’ve got some blood.” She climbed onto the floor and picked up her sippy cup. “It’s yummy.”

“Meredith, love, where did you get that? Show daddy.” He took the cup from her hand, opened the lid, and sniffed at the red liquid. “Ah,” he sighed. “Cherry koolaid.” He handed her drink back. “Who told you this was blood, pet?”

“Auntie Dawn. I said I wanted blood like daddy, and she gave me some.”

“Oh, joy. Where’s Auntie Dawn now?”

“At the mall. Will she buy me a present, daddy?”

“Dunno.” He lay back down. “Go drink your, um, blood, pet, and let daddy sleep.”

“You a vampire, daddy?” She lay on the bed beside him. “What’s a vampire?”

That caught him off guard. They had managed to keep her pretty well protected, up to this point. “Who told you about vampires, love?” he asked, sitting up beside her.

“Auntie Dawn says the Count is a vampire. Can you count, daddy?” She demonstrated. “Vun, two, three ... uh, uh, uh.”

He sunk back down. “Tell Auntie Dawn to keep her opinions to herself. Daddy is not a muppet.” He groaned. “Please go help mommy, pet. Let daddy sleep.”

She heard her mother calling from the hallway. “Meredith. Where are you? You better not be waking up your father.”

“Bye bye.” She picked up her cup and climbed off the bed. “Love you daddy.” She ran out the door.

“Love you too, pet,” he sighed, falling back into unconciousness.

Q & A #3
by Colleen Hillerup

Meredith rolled with delight in the backyard grass. Everything was fresh, green and alive. Buffy laughed at her daughter, for the sheer joy of it. It was a perfect sunny, summer morning.

The little girl lay on her stomach, her chin propped on her hands. “Mommy, I want daddy to come play with me. Can he come out and play?”

“You know he can’t, sweetie.” She sat down on the lawn beside her daughter. “I’ll play with you.”

Meredith frowned. “But I want you and daddy. Why can’t daddy come out with us?”

“Come here.” She pulled her daughter onto her lap. “I’ll try to explain. You know what you always want to take to playgroup, but we won’t let you?”

Meredith thought for a moment. “My goldfish?”

“Okay. That’s true, but ...” She kissed the little girl on the forehead. “What snack can’t you take to playgroup?”

“Peanut butter crackers?”

“Right. And why can’t you take peanut butter to group?”

Meredith knew the answer to that one. “Because it could make Annie very, very sick. She could even,” her voice dropped dramatically, “die.”

She hugged the child closer. “Honey, sun is like peanut butter to daddy. It can make him very, very sick.”

The little girl considered that. Her eyebrows knit together. “Even die?”

“Oh, sweetie.” Buffy felt tears sting the back of her eyes. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep daddy very, very safe.”

“He can have my Hello Kitty umbrella.”

“I’m sure he’d be very thankful that you offered.”

*****

After lunch, Meredith rubbed her eyes and yawned. Buffy carried her up the stairs, and lay her on the big bed beside her father. The little girl snuggled beside Spike and went to sleep.
Buffy was born to protect the world. Sometimes it seemed the world could be contained in one little room.

Q & A #4
by Colleen Hillerup

Spike sat on the living room floor, surrounded by little coloured blocks. He worked on constructing his castle, while his daughter was content to stick two pieces together and pull them apart again. “Daddy,” she asked, “why don’t I have a nana?”

“What, pet?”

“Lily’s nana bakes her cookies. Is Auntie Willow my nana?”

“Lily. One of the girls at playgroup?” he asked. Meredith nodded. “No, Willow is your Auntie Willow. You don’t have a nana. Not here, anyway.” He stood and picked a picture frame from the book shelf. “You know who this is, don’t you, love?”

“That’s Granny Joyce. She looks nice. Do you know her?”

“I knew Joyce. She was a beautiful lady. She treated your daddy right well, when no one else would.” He pointed to the photo. “And that little girl is your mommy. Joyce was mommy’s mommy. She was your nana.”

Meredith laughed. “You’re silly, daddy. Mommy’s not a little girl.”

“Not now, no. But she was. Just like daddy was a little boy. Long, long ago.”

The child was overcome by giggles. “You weren’t a little boy. That’s funny.”

Spike picked her up and placed her on his lap. “I was a little boy. I had a father who loved me very much, but we lost him when I was very young. He was your papa. My mother was your nana, too.” He brushed the blonde hair from her face with his fingers. “She would have loved you so much. I think she’d finally be proud of me.”

“Daddy,” Meredith whispered, “Did they die?”

“Long ago, pet. Long ago.”

She counted on her fingers. “Your mommy. Your daddy. Grandma Joyce. That’s three. Did mommy have a daddy?”

“She has a dad, of sorts, I suppose. She doesn’t hear from him much.”

“Doesn’t he love us?” She looked up at her father. Not for the first time with her, he was at a loss for words.

“Let’s play Legos, pet.”

Q & A #5

“That’s pretty.”

“Thanks, Meredith. Glad you like it. It’s your wallpaper.” Xander held the next strip at the top of the wall, matching the design beside it. “Hey, kid, can you hand me that big brush by your foot?”

“Okay.” The little girl picked up the smoothing brush and handed it to her Uncle Xander. She watched him ease the air bubbles out of the paper.

“You can sit down again.”

“Okay.” She sat on the floor and stared at him. “Uncle Xander, is God your kid?”

“What? Huh?” He dropped the brush on the ground. “What?”

“Mommy and Daddy say you’re the godfather.”

“Oh.” He stopped what he was doing and squatted beside Meredith. “No, honey. Not God’s father. I’m your godfather. I’m a really good friend of your mommy’s and she asked me to be your godfather. Look out for you. Keep an eye on you.”

“Daddy’s friend too, right?”

He patted her head. “Sure kid. Whatever.” He stood up, attending to the next strip of paper.

“How come you don’t have a little girl? She could play with me.”

“I don’t have a wife, so I don’t have a little girl. If I had a little girl, or a little boy, I’m sure they’d like playing with you.” Having wet the paper in the tray, he held it against the wall.

“Why don’t you have a wife? What’s a wife?”

“A wife. Someone to love and have a family with.” He smoothed the paper with his hand. “I don’t have a wife because I blew it. Now Uncle Giles has a wife and I don’t.” He handled the paper a little too roughly. “Sorry, kid. I’ll have to cut another piece.” He pulled the ripped paper from the wall and looked down at her. “You know, for a little girl you ask big questions. Your daddy should be getting up soon. Why don’t you check on him.”

“Okay.” She started out her bedroom door, but turned back to him. “What’s a wanker Harris?” She laughed and ran out the door.

“I may have to stake her father yet.”

Q & A #6
by Colleen Hillerup

She guided the buggy through the heavily laden aisles. Her daughter’s little legs dangled from the front of the cart; her feet swinging the tiny running shoes. “Can I have some chocolate bars?”

“No, honey. Not good for a little girl.”

“Can I have some Sugar Pops?”

“No, sweetie. We’re getting Cheerios.”

“Can I have some Pop Tarts?”

“No, baby, too much sugar.”

Aisle after aisle the questions continued, desires left unmet. Buffy was determined to raise her child to be healthy and strong, despite the temptations of the modern supermarket. Despite how much she wanted these things too.

“Cookies, mommy. I want cookies. Please?”

“Sweetheart, Auntie Willow bakes enough cookies. And they’re better than these. So, no.”

Finally, weekly ordeal at an end, they headed back towards the checkout lane.

“But mommy,” Meredith exclaimed in a too loud voice, “We didn’t get any blood for daddy!”

“Not here, honey. The special butcher shop. You remember.”

“But I want to get daddy blood now!”

The grocery clerk turned his head and stared. ‘Oh, great,’ Buffy thought. She tried to improvise. “Blood sausage. She wants to get her daddy some blood sausage. He’s, um, British. You know how they love that stuff.” She looked down at her daughter. “But they don’t have that here.”

The clerk was delighted to help. “Sure we do. In the deli meat section. I’ll take you over and show you.”

“Oh, great,” she replied without enthusiam. “Thanks.”

Groceries paid for, including the unwanted sausage, Buffy looked down at her daughter. “That thing is disgusting. Your father better eat it. Next week, daddy can do the shopping.”

Q & A #7

Spike picked up the remote control and clicked off the TV. “That’s enough for tonight, pet.”

“Why?” Meredith protested from her comfortable position, stretched out between her father and the back of the couch. “I like that show. Can’t we watch more TV?”

“Too violent.” He shifted and drew his arms around her. “Nothing fit on for a little princess like yourself.”

“What’s violet?”

“Violent. People hurtin’ each other. Killin’ each other. Terrible things you don’t want ta see.”

“Like when the man shot the lady and there was blood?” She snuggled against him.

“That’s right, love. Nasty things.” He stood up, picked her off the couch and flung her over his shoulder. “Time for bed.”

“No bed. I want to play with you.” She struggled, but he held her fast. “You drink blood, daddy? Is it nasty?”

“Only pig’s blood. And it’s nasty for little girls. Now up the stairs you go.”

“Daddy, what’s a Slayer?”

He stopped his ascent. “What, pet? Where did you hear that?”

“I heard you call mommy ‘Slayer’. I thought her name was Buffy.”

“It’s just a nickname, love.” He hugged her close. “You needn’t worry about it. We’ll explain when you’re older.”

“Okay.” They started back up the staircase. “Mommy can be Slayer, and I can be Princess.”

“Right, Princess. I think you got the better end of the deal.”

Q & A 8

“Auntie Dawn, does mommy have a job?” She stood next to the computer, where her aunt was struggling with copious notes and a deadlined assignment.

“Yes, honey. Mommy has a job. She goes out every night. You know that.” She rifled through her note cards.

“Does daddy have a job?”

“Daddy helps mommy. That’s why they go out together. They work for some people in England, who finally pay your mommy, now that daddy and Uncle Giles had a nice talk with them.”

“What does mommy do?”

She put down the notes. “I told you before, Meredith. Mommy is sort of like a police man. She helps people.”

“Oh, yeah.” She tried to climb onto her aunt’s lap.

“Honey, I know I’m supposed to be watching you, but I have a big assignment due tomorrow. Want me to put on your Elmo tape?”

“No. I want to be with you.” She put her arms around an exasperated Dawn’s neck. “Will you be with us always and forever?”

“Aw, sweetie.” She hugged her little niece. “I can’t do that. I’m living here ‘til I finish school. But then I have to go out and find my way in the big world.”

Meredith started to cry. “But who will look after me when mommy’s working? I want you to stay.”

“Shhhh, sweetie. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere yet. And you have other people who watch you now, don’t you? You have your babysitters, and sometimes Auntie Willow.”

Meredith perked up at the name. “I like Auntie Willow. She’s funny. She makes pretty lights for me.” She hopped down onto the floor. “Oops. She said not to tell.”

“Lights? What do you mean by lights? Meredith?”

But the little girl pursed her lips tight and shook her head.

“Sweetie, grownups shouldn’t tell you not to tell. You can always tell your mommy or daddy anything.”

The child was confused. “But daddy said not to tell mommy he said ‘bloody hell’.”

Dawn stroked Meredith’s hair. “I think as long as you don’t say ‘bloody hell’, mommy won’t mind. But tell me more about Auntie Willow’s lights.”

“I want to watch Elmo now. You work.”

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll put on Elmo.” She hit ‘save’ and walked away from the computer. ‘Lights’? What did she mean by ‘lights’?

Q & A #9

“That’s great news. Next week? What about ...”

Meredith tugged on her father’s shirt. “Who is it?”

“Hold on a sec.” He covered the phone mouthpiece. “It’s Uncle Giles, pet. All the way from England. Now let me talk.” He tried to restart the conversation. “So when do you get in?”

“Daddy,” she said loudly. “What’s England?”

“Hold on, Rupe.” He was firmer this time. “It’s where Uncle Giles lives. Now please, pet. Go play with your toys. Daddy wants to talk.”

“Okay.” She wandered off.

“Sorry about that. Meredith’s a tad tired. Should be puttin’ her down soon. So, is Anya coming?” Suddenly there was a blast from the stereo.

“I wanna be sedated ....”

“Honey, turn that down.” The music cranked up louder. “Meredith, stop it.” No response. “Sorry, Rupe, could you hold on?” he shouted into the mouthpiece. He ran over to the stereo and shut off the CD. “Meredith, what’s got into you? Come here.” He pulled her back to the phone, holding tightly to her arm. “Sorry. I can’t talk. Can you email the details to Dawn? Thanks.”

“Daddy, I want to talk to Uncle Giles.”

“Sure, luv.” She was beaming up at him. “Rupe, Meredith wants to say something.” He held the receiver to her ear. She continued to smile. “Meredith, say goodnight to Uncle Giles.” She giggled, but she didn’t talk. “Bloody hell. Sorry. She’s still acting up. I’ll tell Buffy you’re coming. Right. She’s usually not like this. She’s just tired.” She was pulling on his shirt tail again. “Night.”

He picked his daughter up. “That was very rude, Meredith. You shouldn’t interrupt when grownups are trying to talk.”

“Play with me?” She rubbed her eyes with her fists.

“No. Bed time.” He carried her up the stairs. “And no stories tonight for the naughty girl.”

“I’m not a naughty girl,” she mumbled. “You don’t love me.”

“You know full well daddy loves you. Daddy’s disappointed in you. But daddy loves you. Maybe one story. Just a short one. Tiny, really.”

She snuggled against him as he took her to her room. “Okay.”

Q & A 10

“Why is it so loud, daddy?” Meredith covered her ears and shouted as she stared at the big jet taxiing down the runway.

“Because it has such big engines. It has to be strong enough to carry all the people into the sky.”

“It’s so big. Why is it so big? I see them sometimes, and they’re really little.”

Spike picked his daughter up as they looked out the airport window. “That’s because they’re so far away when they’re up in the sky. They only look tiny. They’re really this big.”

“The lights are pretty. I like lights.”

“That’s so they can land the planes in the dark, like tonight.”

“Oh.” She looked around the airport. “Where’s mommy?”

“Mommy went to the washroom. Remember? You said you didn’t have to go.” He cocked his head to the side. “Do you?”

“Nope. Not now. Where’s Uncle Rupert and Auntie Anya? Are they here yet?”

“Not yet.” He walked into the terminal and pointed up to the electronic sign. “See? That says that their plane has been delayed. They’ll be another fifteen minutes at least, and they have yet to come through customs.”

“What’s customs?”

“That’s where they check your suitcases and passports and such when you come from another country. Uncle Rupert and Auntie Anya are coming from far across the sea.” He pointed to the board. “See, there’s flights from the Netherlands, and Canada, and Brazil coming in. At least, that’s where they come from originally.”

“And England. They come from England.” She hugged him. “Are you from England? Can we go?”

“You know daddy’s from England. And I’d love to take you, you and your mom. Maybe someday, if we can cough a few extra bob from the council of wankers.” He put her on the ground. “There’s a spot on the bench. Let’s sit down and wait.” He took her hand and led her to a seat, where they both waited for Buffy. “Uncle Rupert and Auntie Anya have a surprise for you.”

Her eyes lit up. “Is it a pony?”

“No, it’s not a pony. Something even better.” He saw her coming across the floor. “Look, here’s mommy back.”

“Yay!” She ran to her, reaching up her arms. “Mommy, can you take me to the bathroom?”

Q & A #11
by Colleen Hillerup

He was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea, nibbling on Digestive biscuits and scanning Spike’s copy of “Demons of East Africa”, when he felt a little pat on his knee. He looked down into a sad little face. “Hello, Meredith. What’s wrong?”

“Daddy’s sleeping, and Mommy went out and Auntie Dawn’s at school and Auntie Anya’s busy. Can you help me, Uncle Giles?”

“I’ll try, dear. What do you want?” He lay his hand on the top of her head.

“I’m thirsty.”

“I do think I can help you with that.” He lay his cookie on the table beside the book and stood up. Reaching into the cupboard, he took down a glass.

“No, not that one. I want my sippy cup.”

“Sippy cup?”

She pointed to the top of the counter. “I think Mommy put it there.”

He picked up the small plastic cup with the white cover. “Aren’t you a little old for this?”

“No, I’m not old. I want my sippy cup.” She put on a smile more plastic than the cup. “Please?”

“Alright. The sippy cup it is, then.” He opened the refrigerator door. “What would you like? Orange juice? Water?”

“I want some blood.”

He froze, startled. “You want some blood.”

“Yes, please.”

“Mommy and Daddy give you blood to drink.”

“It was Auntie Dawn’s idea, but Daddy says it’s okay. Please?” she asked a bit louder.

“I’m going to have a long talk with your father.” He reached towards the blood at the back of the fridge, picking it up.

He almost dropped it when she shrieked, “Noooo. That’s Daddy’s blood. I want my blood.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Meredith. What exactly is it you want?”

“I want my blood.” She pointed to a pitcher at the front of the top shelf. “See? My blood.”

He pulled the pitcher out of the fridge, sniffed it to assure himself that it was only cherry Koolaid, poured it into the cup and closed the lid. He handed it to her and she drank it happily. Wiping red drips from her chin, she said, “Thank you, Uncle Giles.”

“You’re quite welcome, dear.” He sat back down and picked up the book, as she ran back into the living room. “My children,” he said to no one in particular, “will be satisfied with milk.”

Q & A #12
by Colleen Hillerup

The door was open a crack, so Meredith pushed it wider. “Hi, Auntie Anya,” she said to the woman sitting on the bed.

“Hi Meredith.”

“Can I play with Nigel?” She walked towards her parents’ friend, trying to get a closer look at the baby.

“Not right now. He’s eating.”

Meredith looked at Anya’s hands holding the infant. “Where’s his bottle?”

“He doesn’t use a bottle.”

“Thank you Meredith, but he doesn’t have a sippy cup.” She held up her hand and presented the object in question. “Does he want to borrow mine?”

“He’s too little for that. He gets his milk from me. From my body.” Anya pushed her little finger into the corner of the baby’s mouth, to break the suction, and sat him in her lap, her hand holding him under his chin. With her other hand, she rubbed his little back.

Meredith’s eyes widened as she saw little drops of white liquid seep from Anya’s exposed breast. “Are you a cow?”

“I most certainly am not. I may have been a vengeance demon, twice, but I was never a cow.” Nigel gave a satisfying burp, and Anya wiped his mouth with the corner of his receiving blanket. “Hasn’t your mother told you how babies are fed? Or don’t you watch it on television?”

Meredith blinked. “I just know bottles.”

“Well then, pretend I have bottles.” She lay the baby on the bed beside her, as she adjusted herself and prepared to nurse on the other side. “Two very adequate bottles.”

“Can he talk?”

“No, he can’t.” She picked him up and held him to her breast as he latched on. “He’s a baby. Baby’s don’t talk.”

“He talks to me. He says he loves you.”

Anya smiled, her ‘I’d pat you on the head patronizingly but my hands are full’ smile. “That’s very sweet, Meredith. You tell him I love him too.”
“Okay.” Meredith stared at the baby. “He says he’s glad.” She headed for the door, but stopped and turned around. “And change his diaper.” She disappeared into the hallway.

Anya shook her head. “Kids.”

Q & A #13
by Colleen Hillerup

“Babies are stupid.” Meredith gave her rag doll a good shake, then dropped it on the ground.

“Poor pet. Not having much fun with Nigel?” Spike picked up the doll and handed it back to his daughter. “No need to take it out on Miss Nancy.”

“He just lies there, and cries sometimes. He’s stupid. I don’t think he’s better than a pony. He doesn’t talk much.”

“He’s only a baby. He barely says ‘goo’. Wait. I want to show you something, love.” Spike pulled an album off the living room bookshelf. “Look at this picture. Do you know who that is?”

She glanced at the photograph. “Stupid baby.”

“Actually, pet, that’s you. Baby Meredith.”

The little girl looked more closely at the image. “That’s not me. I’m big.”

“You weren’t then. You were just a little bit that only wanted to eat, sleep, cry and get her nappies changed.” He put the album on the coffee table. “I’ll show you something else.”
He picked up his daughter and held her in front of the mirror.

Meredith laughed. “I like it when you make me fly.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I know it’s funny that you can’t see daddy. But look at you. Look how big you are. In a few years, Nigel will be big too.”

Meredith smiled. “Then can he play with me?”

“Right.” He put her down. “Next time he visits, he’ll be running around and playing. In the meantime, he’s a little baby, and very good for cuddling. I’m sure if you asked Auntie Anya, she’d let you hold him if you sit on the couch very quietly and she helps you.”

“Okay.” She started to run off.

“Pet?” She stopped and turned back to him. “I suggest you not call him stupid in front of Auntie Anya and Uncle Giles. Doubt they’d take too kindly to it.”

“Okay. I’ll call him nice baby.”

Spike smiled. “That’s my girl.”

“But he’s still stupid.”

Q & A #14
by Colleen Hillerup

Meredith came bouncing into the living room, stopping when she saw her mother. “Oh,” she said. “It’s the stu ... it’s the nice baby.”

“Hey, Sweetie,” Buffy called. “Want to play with Nigel?”

She looked at her mother, and the little bundle she held on her lap. “That’s Auntie Anya’s baby. She should play with it. ‘Sides, he doesn’t play.”

“Sure he does. Come and sit beside me.” She watched her daughter climb up onto the couch, a look of studious concentration on her face.

“Show me.”

“Take your forefinger, no the pointer one, that’s right, and move it back and forth in front of his eyes. See how he watches it?”

Meredith moved her finger slowly and was delighted by the baby’s attention to it. “He sees me. I think he likes it.”

“Now, take that same finger and touch the baby’s little hand.”

When she reached out to the infant, he grasped her finger. “He’s really strong!”

“Yep. Babies can surprise you. You did.”

Meredith was fascinated. “I did?”

“Every day.” She shifted a bit on the couch. “Honey, sit there against the corner of the sofa. Like that, right. Now, put your arms out, and Mommy will let you hold Nigel, if you’re very careful.”

“No.” Meredith was frightened. “Anya will be mad at me. I’m just a little kid.”

“Auntie Anya and Uncle Giles went to a movie. But they won’t be mad. I’m here, and I know you wouldn’t hurt him.” She placed the infant on her daughter’s lap, keeping her hands close. “There, see. Hold your arm under his head, that’s good, and there. See, he’s fine.”

Meredith stared at the baby, not moving an inch. “He loves me.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Mommy, he’s really soft, and warm. I like him.”

“Of course you do, honey. He’s a sweet little thing.”

“Yes, he’s a sweet little thing.” She smiled down at the baby. “Mommy, can I have a little brother?”

Q & A #16
by Colleen Hillerup

She was curled up in the corner of the living room couch, sulking, when he came in from the kitchen. “What’s wrong, pet?”

Her lower lip trembled. “When is Nigel coming back?”

He sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry you miss the baby. But Uncle Giles and Auntie Anya had to take him home to England. You know they couldn’t stay.”

“But I want him.” Her little eyes were misting with tears. “Can we go see him?”

“I wish we could, love. I really do. But England is far, far away, and Mommy and Daddy have work to do here.” He stroked her soft blonde hair. “Maybe someday.”

“But he’ll be big. He won’t be him.”

“He’ll look different, yes. Babies grow up very quickly.” He held her against his chest. “But next time you see him, he’ll be able to run and play with you. You’ll have so much fun.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, pet.”

“He’s not a stupid baby.”

“I know.” The timer dinged in the kitchen, and Spike took his daughter from his lap and set her on the couch. “I have to go, sweetheart. I’m making chocolate brownies for Mommy to have when she gets home. You know how hungry she gets when... when she’d been working. Don’t want them to burn.” He placed his hand on the top of her head. “I’ll cut you a nice big piece.”

“Okay,” she sniffed. She watched him head back towards the kitchen.

She looked on the couch for her Nancy, but it was lying on the floor near the bookcase. She was too sad to get up. Sure that no one was looking, she watched the doll rise from the floor, float across the room, and into her arms. She hugged it close.

Q & A #17
by Colleen Hillerup

Meredith knelt by the side of the bed, hands folded, her father sitting on the edge. Buffy leaned against the doorframe, watching them.

“Alright, pet,” he said. “Now I lay me down to...”

“Sleep.”

“I pray the lord my soul to...”

“Keep.”

“Guide me through the coming...”

“Night.”

“Be with me at morning...”

“Light. Bless Mommy, and Daddy, and Auntie Dawn, and Uncle Giles and Auntie Anya and Nigel and Uncle Xander.” She hopped up onto the bed and climbed under the covers.

“What about Auntie Willow, love? Did you forget her?” her father asked, raising his eyebrow.

The little girl closed her eyes. “And Auntie Willow.” She opened them again, looking up into her parents’ faces. “Night Daddy. Night Mommy.” She reached around on her bed. “Where’s Nancy?”

Buffy picked her up from the dresser and handed her to her daughter. “Here you go, sweetie.”

“Thank you, Mommy.” She hugged the doll to her chest. “I can’t sleep without her.”

“I know that, pet.” Spike kissed his daughter on the forehead. “Goodnight, sweet Meredith. Night, Miss Nancy.”

Buffy kissed her too, then arm in arm they walked out the door, shutting off the light.

Meredith snuggled under her comforter. “Hi, Auntie Willow,” she whispered.

“Hello Meredith,” the voice answered in her head. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes. Will you tell me a story?”

“Of course, honey. Once there were three bears who lived in the forest...”

Q & A #18
by Colleen Hillerup

“Mommy said we could have a freezie.”

“Cool.” The little boy looked around the kitchen. “Where’s your dishwasher?”

“What’s that?” Meredith pulled the fridge door open.

“The thing that washes your dishes, stupid.”

“You mean Daddy?” Meredith pulled a chair over to the open refrigerator, climbed on top and pulled open the freezer door. She reached in and took two frozen treats from the compartment, handing one to her friend.

“That’s not a freezie. That’s a popsicle. Dumb girl.”

Meredith snatched it from his hand. “Take that back.”

The child contemplated the popsicle. “Okay. You’re just a girl. Not dumb.”

She handed it back. “Okay.”

He sucked on his treat, and walked over a door. “Where’s that go?”

Meredith climbed off the chair, and closed the fridge. “That goes downstairs. I’m not supposed to go without a grownup.”

“Wuss.” The boy pulled on the handle, opened the door and started down the stairs. “Fraidy cat coming?”

“Okay,” she pouted, under duress. She followed him into the basement.

“Hey,” he asked, “what’s this?”

“That’s Mommy’s weights.”

“Right. You mean your Dad’s weights.” He reached down and tugged on the bar. “Your Mom couldn’t lift this.”

“She can too. My Mommy’s strong.”

“And you’re nuts.” He looked at the flat weights on the bar. “Hey, that’s even more than my dad’s. Your dad can’t lift that. No way your mom could.”

“My Mommy can to lift that. And my Mommy can beat up your Daddy.”

“You take that back, stupid girl.”

“Will not.”

The boy dropped his popsicle on the floor and pulled back his fist.

“Jackson!” He stopped at Buffy’s voice. “I think you should leave. Now.”

“Mommy,” Meredith snivelled, “he says you can’t lift up your weight.”

“Really?” She knelt down and looked at her daughter. “What have I told you about coming down here?”

The little girl hung her head. “You said don’t.”

“I said don’t. I want you to go up to your room and wait for me.”

“I’m sorry, Mommy.” Eyes filled with guilty tears, the child walked up the stairs.

“And time for you to go, Jackson. Don’t come back.” Buffy walked over to the weight. “Let me get this out of your way.” She picked the heavy bar easily in one hand and set it to the side. Jackson’s jaw hung open. “It’s wrong to pick on people, especially when you know you’re stronger than they are. It took me a long time to learn that.”

The boy stared at her, then ran up the stairs. She heard the back door slam. Regretfully, she trudged up after him, hating the thought of disciplining her daughter. ‘She would pick Spike’s naptime.’

Q & A #19

“Watcha doin’?” Meredith tried to climb onto her aunt’s lap. “School stuff?”

“Nope.” The little girl was pushing her away from the keyboard. “Hey. Stop that. I’m talking to somebody.”

Meredith stepped away and looked up at Dawn. “I don’t hear anybody talking.”

“Not with our mouths, silly. On the internet. We’re typing to each other.”

“Show me.”

“See, I type in here: ‘Hey, Eric. My little niece is being a pain. So, what were you saying about your mom?’ and he talks back. Types back.”

“I want to try.”

“You can’t type. You can’t even spell.” When the little girl pouted, Dawn sat her in her lap. “Watch me.”

‘Sorry, Eric. She won’t leave. Babysitting sucks.’

“Please?” Meredith begged.

“Okay. I’m going to say hi from you. Then will you quit bugging me?” The child nodded, and Dawn typed, ‘Meredith says hi.’.

The words came back, ‘Hi Meredith.’

The little girl squealed with glee. “That’s me! I’m Meredith!”

“Yep, you sure are. Now go play with your toys.”

She climbed down off her aunt’s lap and sat down in the corner of the living room, surrounded by little plastic farm animals.

‘Bye, yourself,’ the screen read.

Dawn typed, ‘Why? Are you leaving?’

‘No,’ he answered, ‘you said goodbye. Scroll up.’

‘Weird. I didn’t type that.’

‘Guess your keyboard’s haunted then. Anyway, Mom comes into my room without knocking, and ...’

Meredith smiled.

Q & A #20

Spike took her foot in his hand. “You have the most beautiful toes.”

“I have the most sore toes. Rub my foot? Pretty please?” Buffy smiled as he knelt at the end of the bed, working out the knots with his strong and nimble fingers. “Oh, that feels so good.”

“You think that’s good, pet,” he kissed the arch gently, “wait until I work my way up a little higher.”

Her eyes opened as he sucked on her ankle. “I thought we’d never get the baby to sleep. This time alone is so ...”

“Mommy.” Meredith stood in the bedroom doorway, rubbing her eyes. “I can’t sleep. There’s monsters under my bed.”

“Oh, poor baby. Come to daddy.” Spike held out his arms and his daughter jumped onto the bed and into them. “Is my girl frightened of a few monsters?” She cuddled close to his chest, her thumb firmly planted in her mouth, and nodded.

“Meredith, honey,” Buffy explained, “there are no ...” She pulled herself up, reluctantly, pulling her robe over her nightgown. “I’d better go check.”

“Right. Shout out if you need me.” Spike watched his wife head out the door. “Was it a very big monster, love?”

She nodded her head again. Removing her thumb, she added, “He was going to eat me.”

“Was he now?” Spike cradled her tightly. “My baby is very sweet, but no monster will ever harm her. Her mommy and daddy look over her and protect her, so she need never be afraid.”

Buffy trudged back into the room. “No monsters. Nothing I could find, anyway. You can go back to bed, honey.”

Meredith’s face crumpled with fear. “I’m afraid. I don’t want to sleep in there. I want to sleep here.”

Buffy and Spike shared a look of resignation. “I’ll see you later,” Spike said, taking his favourite pillow and heading towards his daughter’s room.

“I love you, Mommy.” Meredith cuddled against her frustrated mother, as they both fell back to sleep.

Q & A #21
by Colleen Hillerup

The ridge overlooking Sunnydale was dotted with blankets and lawn chairs. Buffy, Spike and Meredith were surrounded by a lake of people. Families sat together, young couples reclined, holding hands. The air was thick with anticipation.

Meredith was bouncing up and down on her blanket. “Is it going to start now? How about now?”

“Any second now, sweetheart.” Spike reached out and took Buffy’s fingers, smiling up at her. Their daughter sitting between them on the blanket, it was a perfect evening. They had managed to find a decent spot to set up, even though they came later than most families, the sun’s rays already dipping low in the sky. On the verge of pitch darkness, the show was about to begin.

“Look, there’s Dawn.” Buffy waved towards her sister and Dawn’s date, but the couple didn’t turn around. She knew there were people here she would recognize, but the darkness precluded it.

“I’m glad you don’t have to work, Mommy.” Meredith put her arms around her mother’s neck.

“I wouldn’t miss this. I’ll go out later for a bit, but right now, my time is yours. Yours and Daddy’s.” Spike gave her hand a squeeze.

Spike’s ears perked up. “I think it’s starting.”

With a whistle, the rocket streaked into the sky. It burst forth with a tremendous boom. Meredith shrieked and covered her ears. “It’s too loud. I don’t like it. I want to go home.”

“Look, pet.” Spike pointed to the sky as the colours lit the darkness in a cascade.

“Pretty,” Meredith uttered, her ears firmly covered. “But it smells bad.”

With the next blast, louder than the first, Meredith buried her head against her father’s chest. “Make it stop!” she cried.

“Shhh, love. It’s okay. Look.” Again the little girl peeked up at the sky.

“Oh, that’s so nice, Daddy. Why can’t it be pretty and quiet?”

“It has to explode to make the pretty lights. That’s how it works. You need the bad part to get to the good part.”

Buffy smiled at him. “Yep, honey. Sometimes you do.” She put her arms around her daughter. “Cover your ears, but keep looking up. You’ve only been seeing the ends of the lights.”

Meredith stoically covered her ears and looked up. This time she saw the firework burst in its entirety. “Oh, that’s so beautiful.” She crawled into her father’s lap. “Is Auntie Willow here?”

“Probably somewhere. Why, sweetheart?”

“Cause I think she’d like this.” She snuggled next to her father, until, even with the noise, she’d fallen asleep.

Q & A #22
by Colleen Hillerup

Meredith was working intently on the coffee table, her paper spread out before her and a plethora of brightly coloured crayons in disarray around it. Buffy stood over her, surveying her work. “That’s really good, sweetheart.” She pointed to the paper. “That’s a very good tree.”

The little face screwed up in disgust with her mother’s ignorance. “That’s not a tree, silly. That’s you.”

“Oh.” Buffy looked closer. “Of course it is.”

“That’s your green shirt and your brown pants.”

Buffy squatted down beside the table, deciding it would be safer to let her daughter describe her own work. “And what’s that part?”

The little girl forced exasperated air through her lips. “That’s daddy.”

“Oh, right. I should have known by all the black.” She pointed to the centre of the drawing. “That’s you, isn’t it? Your favourite blue dress.”

Meredith beamed. “You got it right. That’s good, mommy.” She put down her crayon had threw her arms around her mother’s neck. “You get a kiss.” She pressed her lips against Buffy’s cheek.

“Thank you.” She watched the little girl go back to the paper. “And what’s that part?”

“That’s our doggie.”

“Honey, we don’t have a doggie.”

“I want one.” She drew something in her mother’s arms. “And that’s my baby brother.”

“Oh, Meredith.” She placed her hand on her daughter’s head, stoking her hair. “Don’t count on that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it probably will never happen. My Meredith is a special little girl. One of a kind.”

“I want a baby brother. It could maybe be.”

“Okay.” She sat on the carpet beside her. “Maybe.” She looked back at the picture. “Why do you have so much of this colour? Our hair, the dog, the walls.”

Meredith smiled. “I like the yellow crayon.”

Q & A #23
by Colleen Hillerup

Buffy picked up the receiver from the ringing phone. “Oh, hey. How are you?”

Meredith tugged at the edge of her mother’s t-shirt. “Mommy, Auntie Dawn put my sippy cup in the cupboard and I can’t reach it.”

“Wait a sec.” Buffy put her hand over the receiver and looked down. “I’ll be with you soon, honey. Mommy’s talking on the phone.” She returned to the caller. “And Sam?”

The child tugged again. “Mommy, who is it?”

“Uncle Riley, honey. Long distance. Let Mommy talk.”

“Who’s Uncle Riley?” Meredith was growing impatient. So was her mother.

“Mommy’s friend.” She spoke into the receiver. “Oh, that’s great. When will you get in? You have to come for supper.”

“But I’m thirsty now.”

“Honey, be a good girl. It’s naughty to interrupt on the phone.” Buffy was exasperated. “I’m sorry, Riley. No, Spike won’t mind. Water under the bridge. Are you bringing Erin?”

“Who’s Erin?”

She bent down and put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Honey, wait a minute, and Mommy will tell you. I’ll get your drink. Just let me talk.” She stood up. “Oh, that’s great. Meredith’s baby crazy. She’ll love that. When are you getting in?”

Meredith gave up and wandered into the kitchen. She looked up at the cup on the high shelf, and watched it float down and into her hand. She stood on a chair and filled the cup in the kitchen sink. Sipping through the lid, walked back into the living room. “I got my cup myself, Mommy,” she stated.

“Oh, that’s good, sweetie.” She continued her conversation. “So, what brings you to Sunnydale? Really? How’s the government treating you?”

Meredith sulked as she worked on her drink.

Q & A #24
by Colleen Hillerup

“Mommy, oh Mommy!” Meredith took her mother’s hand and tried to pull her out the back door.

“What is it honey? What’s wrong?” Buffy was concerned. There was genuine fear in her daughter’s voice. “What’s outside?”

“Come and see. Please, Mommy. Right now.”

Buffy hesitated. There were many things to fear in Sunnydale. Even on a sunny summer morning. “Tell Mommy what it is, sweetheart.”

“Come now!” She tugged on her mother’s hand, and Buffy reluctantly followed her. Meredith led her to a place on the grass beside the house. She pointed down. There were tears in her eyes. “Oh, Mommy, help it. Please.”

The little bird lay still in the grass, its neck twisted. “Did you touch it, baby?”

“No Mommy. It might bite me. Help it, please.”

“That was a good girl.” Buffy picked her gardening gloves off the side of the porch railing, put them on and picked up the bird. It lay cradled in her palm, hardly more than a fledgling. She sighed. “Sweetheart, it’s too late. The little birdy’s gone.”

Meredith was confused. “It’s right there.”

“Honey, the bird is dead. I can’t help it now.” She sat it back on the grass. “No one can help it now.”

The tears in the little girl’s eyes spilled over, as her face puckered in grief. “But I don’t want it to be dead. How did it die, Mommy?”

“I’m not sure, sweetie, but I think it hit a window. The birdies think the glass isn’t there, and when they hit it, they get hurt, or killed.” She pulled off the gloves and wrapped her daughter in her arms. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could make it better.” She carried her daughter into the house. “I have an idea. Let’s get a shoebox and give the little fellow a proper burial.”

“In the ground? Will that make it alive again?”

“No, sweetheart. Nothing can make it alive again. But it will keep the cats from getting at it.”

“Okay.” She cuddled her mother close. “Mommy, can we wait until tonight? So daddy can help?”

Buffy kissed her daughter’s cheek. “I think he’d like that.” ‘Though,’ she thought, ‘I think he’d rather protect you from things like this a little longer. I know I would.’

Q & A #25
by Colleen Hillerup

“Meredith Summers.” The nurse called out the name and Spike stood, taking his daughter’s hand.

“No, Daddy,” the little girl cried. “I don’t want to.”

He knelt down, looking into her eyes. “Have to, pet. I’d spare you this if I could, but I can’t.” He picked her up in his arms and carried her towards the cubicle, while she struggled and cried.

Spike sat his daughter on the examining table. She was still protesting as the nurse left. “Don’t make me Daddy. Take me home. Please take me home.”

Her cries were breaking his heart, but he stood firm. “You need this sweetheart. So you can go to school with the other little boys and girls. It won’t be so bad. Daddy’s here.”

When the doctor walked into the room, her tears started afresh. The doctor looked dismayed. “I don’t know why they always get this way with me. The nurse gives the shots.” He looked towards Spike. “Any problems?”

“No, she’s been fine.”

“I’m not fine.” Meredith shouted. “My tummy hurts. I should go home.”

“Really?” the doctor asked. “Maybe I should check that out.”

“First she’s mentioned it.” Spike studied his daughter. “Your tummy really hurt, sweetheart?”

She weakened under her father’s gaze. “I think so. Sort of.” She sniffed back her tears. “No.” Her face crumbled up again, preparing for a fresh flood. “But I don’t want to get a needle.”

“Nobody does.” The doctor smiled at Spike. “I’ll send in the nurse.”

Spike took Meredith from the table and sat her on his lap in his chair. “Is it okay if she sits here?”

“Sure.” The doctor left as the nurse entered.

“Okay, Sweetie. This won’t hurt a bit.” The nurse filled the syringe and pinched the child’s skin, pressing the point of the needle into her arm. Meredith screamed.

“Daddy, Daddy, it hurts so much. Make her stop. Make her stop.”

Spike clenched his teeth, trying to overcome his natural impulse to attack the nurse. She was just doing her job. Hurting his daughter. Causing her pain. He concentrated on holding his little girl.

As Meredith screamed, “I want Mommy,” he felt a tear trickle from the corner of his eye. So much easier when he didn’t care about anyone but himself.

He wouldn’t trade this for the world.

Q & A #26
by Colleen Hillerup

“Whoa. Do you ever look lame.” Jackson stood at the edge of the Summer’s front yard, commenting on Meredith’s appearance.

The little girl smoothed down the ruffles on her skirt. “My daddy says I look pretty.”

“What’s with the curly hair, and the ribbons? You look like a, like a girl. Just a stupid girl.”

Meredith frowned. “Not a stupid girl.” She spoke up louder, as she lifted her head with defiance. “And my Mommy told me not to talk to you.” She paused, considering the proper epithet. “Stupid boy.”

“Yeah, brave girl, standing on your parent’s porch. Come over here and say that.” His smile was mean. “Chicken.”

“I’m supposed to wait here. For Mommy.”

“Oh, right. Hide behind your mama.” He wiggled his hips, in a parody of what he considered femininity. “Meredith is a mama’s girl. Meredith is a mama’s girl.”

“Am not.” Meredith practically flew off the porch as she ran towards the trouble maker. Her patent leather shoes squished through the newly watered grass of the lawn. She grabbed Jackson and pushed him over, as they rolled in the grass and wet soil.

The boy was taken aback by the attack, but only for a moment. He was about to push the little girl’s face into the dirt, when he looked up at the porch. Buffy Summers stood there, hands on her hips, face a mask of cold fury. He let go of the child and ran, as fast as he could.

“Meredith Anne Summers. You come here. Now.”

The small child pulled herself up from the lawn and slunk back to the front door. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“You should be.” Buffy stared down at her daughter. “You knew I was taking you to Sears for your portrait. You knew I told you not to get messy. Now look at you. I leave you for one minute, and you get into a fight. I told you to stay away from Jackson. You’re filthy. Now, come into the house and get cleaned up, and I’ll find you another dress.” She took the child’s grubby little hand. “What was the fight about, anyway?”

“He said I was a mama’s girl.” Her lip quivered. “I’m sorry. I got mad.” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not a mama’s girl, am I Mommy?”

“You’re my girl, honey, but no, you’re not a mama’s girl.” She walked her into the house, thinking, ‘Definitely a daddy’s girl.’

Q & A #27
by Colleen Hillerup

It was nearly sundown when Meredith climbed up on her father’s bed. “Hi, Daddy,” she said. “Wake up.”

He rubbed his eyes and stretched. “Hey, sweetie. Where’s your mom?”

“Making dinner. Spaghetti. Again.” She smiled. “I like spaghetti.”

“I know you do. Give Daddy a mo, and I’ll be right down.” He sat up, running his fingers through his curly brown hair. He reached for the t-shirt he’d dropped on the floor.

“Daddy, do you want me to be happy?”

He paused, the shirt partially over his head. “Now that’s a loaded question, pet.” He pulled it on. “Happy in what way?”

“If I had a little brother I would be very happy.” She looked up at him, with her sweet, artificially innocent smile.

“That again.” He stood up, adjusting the waist band on his track pants. “How about a baby sister?”

“Okay.” She was surprised how easy it had been.

“No, love. Don’t mean you’re getting one. I ...” He sat on the edge of the bed. “My dearest darling, we would love to give you a brother or sister. But you’re our little miracle, and I don’t fancy it’s going to happen twice.”

She screwed her forehead in concentration, trying to understand. “Why don’t you want me to be happy? Don’t you like me?”

He swept her into his arms. “Like you? I love you. You’re sunshine and roses, and the light of my soul. You’re the most precious gift your mom could ever give me. You’re my sweet girl.”

She nestled her head against his chest. “Then why can’t I have a baby brother?”

“You know what, pet?” He stood up and threw her over his shoulder, as she convulsed with giggles. He carried her down the stairs that way. “I thought your mother was stubborn. But you win the prize.”

“And for my prize, I want ...”

“A baby brother. I know.” He placed her on the floor at the foot of the stairs.

“Okay. Thank you. I was going to say a puppy.” She ran in the kitchen. “Mommy, Daddy says I can have a baby brother.”

Buffy came out of the kitchen, her hands on her hips, glaring at Spike.

“I didn’t,” he said, throwing up his hands. “Maybe it’s time we thought about that puppy.”