Fiction- Hair Of The Dog

Hair Of The Dog

Author: Restive Nature (aka Bavite)

Genre: Crossover of BtVS and Indiana Jones movies

Type: Standalone

Disclaimer: Joyce, Willow and Buffy belong to the Whedon-verse. The Drs. Jones belong to George Lucas. However, the poodle belongs to me.

Summary: A family visit over the Christmas holidays brings out a secret that Buffy wishes she’d never learned.

A/N- Fic For All Pairing #434 Buffy/ Indiana Jones

December 23rd, 1998

Oh, great uncle Henry!" Joyce exclaimed, embracing the older gentleman that stood on her front porch. The arms that returned the embrace were frail looking, hiding a deceptive strength and vitality of a man half his age. "I’m so glad you could make it for Christmas."

"And give up the chance at seeing my favorite nieces? Never," Henry Jones Senior joked in his softly accented, cultured voice. Joyce stepped back inside and waved him in. The smile stayed put on her face when she saw the surprise that Uncle Henry had brought with him.

"Indy!" she cried out in delight.

"Hey Joycie," Indiana Jones smirked. His arms were weighted down with their luggage, so he stepped in and let it drop. But before they could hug, another shriek caught his attention. He and Joyce both turned to look up the stairs at the completely stunned blonde hovering there, a redheaded girl peeking anxiously over her shoulder.

"Oh my God!" the blonde shrieked again as she vaulted down the stairs at top speed to throw herself into the suave man’s arms. "Indy! You’re here."

"Hello to you too short stuff," he gasped out. Damn! When had his cousin’s daughter gotten so strong? Suddenly clued in to the fact that she was nearly cracking his ribs, Buffy quickly stepped back, embarrassed.

"Sorry," she apologized sheepishly. But he waved off her concern. He’d earned much worse in the line of duty and in the name of artifact hunting. But ever the ladies man; he caught sight of the other girl that had slowly followed Buffy down the steps.

"And who’s this pretty girl?" he questioned with a lopsided grin. Buffy’s grin matched his own as she bounced over to the nervous girl and pulled her forward so that Henry could see her as well.

"This is the bestest of my best buds," Buffy began. "Willow Rosenburg." She turned to look at her friend. "Wills, this is my mom’s cousin Indiana Jones and his dad, Henry Jones." Neither one should have been surprised when Willow gasped in recognition of their names.

"The archeologists?" she blurted out. Indy half-turned to chuckle at his father.

"Hear that Dad?" he teased. "We’re famous if someone in this dinky town has heard of us.

"Now Junior," Henry chided half-heartedly. Truth be told, he was enjoying the girl’s hesitant confusion. As was Joyce, judging by the grin on her face.

"It’s so nice to meet you," Willow managed to stumble over her confusion. "I read all about your exploits in my pre-intro to archeology books for college."

"Don’t believe half of it," Indy shrugged trying to appear modest. He took the hand that Willow was holding out to him, turning the intended handshake into an old world gesture, bringing her knuckles to his lips. As everyone seemed to expect, Willow turned nearly as red as the flaming hair atop her head and tucked her chin into her chest as she mumbled something.

"Would anyone care for anything to drink?" Joyce broke in, gesturing for everyone to sit. She helped Henry to the easy chair as Buffy and Indy took seats on the sofa. Willow perched on the arm of the sofa, unsure whether she should stay longer and intrude on this family time. Buffy gave her arm a quick squeeze of encouragement. "I’ve got eggnog, coffee… some wassail?" she offered temptingly.

"Ah, a cup of wassail sounds just about right," Henry sighed deeply. Joyce nodded and turned to look inquiringly at Indy.

"Have to go with Dad on this one," he smiled. Although the weather in Sunnydale wasn’t as warm as some of the climates he’d endured, it was the season for warm drinks in front of a roaring fire. And the older they got, the more they seemed to embrace these little traditions. But before Buffy could speak up, Joyce had already decided.

"And eggnog for you girls," she said in her ‘supermom, no nonsense from you’ tone of voice. She spun around to head into the kitchen. Buffy pouted for one brief second then turned a speculative, gleaming eye on her cousin.

"So what’d you bring me?" she demanded of both men. Henry just chuckled while Indy looked confused.

"Why would we bring you something?" he demanded. The pout was instantly back. Indy could see where many younger men might fall for it and jump to do her bidding. But he’d had many long years of practice at being immune to it.

"Cause you love me and every time you visit you shower me with pretty things of the sparkly kind," Buffy replied in a tiny voice, fluttering her eyelashes at the still handsome man. Indy chuckled; knowing she had him pegged. But apparently she was just as aware that her puppy dog eyes weren’t going to get her anywhere as her hand shot out, straight into his coat pocket.

"Hey," he protested good-naturedly, glad that the present was actually in the other pocket. He pulled her hand out and pushed it back to her lap. "Isn’t Christmas supposed to be the spirit of giving?"

"And receiving," Buffy chortled. She held her hand out, palm up. "Now gimme!"

"Buffy!" Willow chided, embarrassed for her friend. But Henry just laughed and shook his head at her.

"Not to worry dear," he reassured her. "They’ve been like this since Buffy was a little girl." He gestured to the bags Indy had left in the doorway. "That’s why one of those bags is chock full of Christmas gifts for our girl." He couldn’t suppress his amusement, as Buffy’s eyes grew large and darted back and forth between her cousin and the bags.

"Way to go distracting her Dad," Indiana guffawed. "Hmm," he pretended to think it over. "Will Buffy go for the bag of gifts she can’t open until tomorrow, or will she wait for me to finally give her the little worthless trinket I just happened to pick up on our last sojourn down South."

"Ooh, not fair," Buffy moaned. But finally, wisdom won out. Better a gift in the hand versus the wrath of Mom for getting into the presents early. She turned back to Indy, both hands out now. "Gimme!"

"Buffy!" Joyce scolded as she re-entered the living room, tray in hand bearing the beverages. "I thought I raised you with better manners than that!"

"Sorry Mom," she offered, biting her lip. Indy’s eyes sparkled as he finally reached into his coat pocket and pulled forth the little bauble he and his father had thought Buffy would enjoy. Of course it wasn’t little, nor was it precisely worthless. But in their old age, they were finding that they’d much rather spoil the only constant women in their lives than turn over every find they made to the museum.

He settled it into Buffy’s waiting hand as everyone oohed and aahed over it. The necklace was a series of interlinked stones, each one graduated. It was chunky and old, but there was a mystical, ethereal quality to it when one first beheld it. Buffy let out a long breath, her lips widening as she held it up to the light.

"It’s wonderful," she exclaimed. Holding it carefully, she turned to embrace Indy. "Thank you so much." He returned the hug and then she slipped off the couch to give his father a hug and a peck on the cheek. While she had slipped down to her knees so that Henry could place it around her neck for her, Indiana caught Joyce’s eye briefly. She nodded at him, understanding immediately. She knew exactly what gesture Indiana was going to make and it didn’t bother her at all. Her cousin and uncle were always thoughtful enough to pass on some of the more artistic finds to her gallery. That was more than enough for her.

Buffy returned to the sofa, proudly displaying her new necklace. Willow leaned over to have a better look at it. "Oh my… Buffy, it’s great." She glanced up at Henry. "Is it Egyptian?"

"Very good," Henry nodded. He leaned forward, ready to impart the history behind the piece. And though Indy was sure that his father had found a kindred spirit in this young girl, he interrupted. Or they’d be here all night listening to Dr. Jones rambling on.

"And because I think beauty should always be shared," Indy interrupted, his hand once more slipping into his coat. He pulled out another necklace and held it towards Willow. "Merry Christmas Willow. Or maybe assuming by your last name, Happy Hanukkah."

Now it was Willow’s turn for her eyes to go wide. "Oh n-no," she stammered, holding her hands up as if to ward him off. "I couldn’t."

Buffy hadn’t seen the interplay between Indy and her mom, but with one glance at her beaming mother, knew that it was all right. Joyce would never begrudge anyone giving Willow, who was almost like a second daughter to her, anything. She nudged her friend. "Go ahead Wills," she urged. "You can’t refuse a Hanukkah gift." She glanced at Uncle Henry, her lips pursing in amusement. "’Cause you know, not everyone worships Santa Claus."

"Smart girl," Henry snorted under his breath. "The things I could tell you about that old devil.." he trailed off as four pairs of very interested eyes were pinned in him. He coughed nervously and took a drink of the warmed wassail in his hands. The moment was broken and Indy took the chance to press the gift into Willow’s hand.

"Go ahead," he echoed Buffy. "It’ll do our hearts good. It’s not as if Dad or I would wear it." Everyone laughed at that and finally Willow took it with a shy smile. She unwrapped the tissue-laden necklace, pleased to discover that it was very similar to Buffy’s. Her friend helped her don it and she turned to the gentleman.

"Thank you Dr. Jones and… Dr. Jones," she nodded at each one. Indiana’s smile grew.

"Call me Indy," he invited broadly. "Everyone else does."

*****

Later that evening

"Oh this has been so much fun," Willow sighed as she held her aching sides. They’d all been laughing at the stories the Drs. Jones had been providing about their misadventures in the world of archeology. The tamer stories, of course, but the women didn’t need to know that.

"It has been," Buffy agreed. Though she and Willow had only been allowed eggnog or milk, the adults had been steadily drinking their way through the wassail that Joyce had made and all three were now slightly tipsy. She glanced up at the clock, realizing that it was way later than she had supposed. Willow’s eyes followed hers and she let out a muffled squeak.

"Oh, I gotta go," she mumbled. "Mom and Dad will be upset I'm so late."

Buffy simply nodded. "I’ll walk you home, okay?" She glanced over at her mother who nodded, fully aware of her daughter’s plan to keep her friend safe from the big baddies that roamed the street, regardless of the sanctity of the season the humans were celebrating.

"Oh dear," Henry sighed, glancing up at the clock as well. "Perhaps Junior should drive you home," he suggested. "It’s not proper for young ladies to have to walk home in the dark."

"Oh no, it’s okay," Buffy protested, having planned on doing a quick patrol after dropping Willow off at home. "Sunnydale is really small and Willow doesn’t live that far away."

"Nonsense," Henry waved his hand at her. "I’m sure Miss Rosenburg’s parents would feel much better for their daughter to arrive home swiftly." Indy nodded, already searching for the car keys. Willow and Buffy swapped mildly perturbed looks, but it was clearly understood that they couldn’t give Buffy’s secret away. So they gave in gracefully. Buffy jumped up from her position on the floor to retrieve their coats. Maybe she’d just sneak out later and so a quick sweep of one of the cemeteries.

Willow, ever the soul of generosity and courtesy, made her way to Henry’s side. "Thank you again for the necklace Dr. Jones."

"Not at all dear," he sighed, patting her hand. "I quite enjoyed our conversation. Perhaps if you’d care to, and don’t mind humoring an old man, we could do it again before Junior and I leave?"

"Oh I’d like that," Willow assured him. "But you’d probably get tired of all my questions."

"Nonsense," Henry blustered. "It’s a sharp, intelligent, engaged mind that constantly questions. And I’m happy to provide what knowledge I can."

"Oh," Willow nodded, happy to find someone who was a thirsty for information as she was. She smiled impishly then. "In that case, I have one more question before I go. In case I don’t see you again."

"Go ahead," Henry offered, waiting patiently.

"Well," Willow shrugged one shoulder, seeing that Indy and Buffy had returned from the foyer. "Your son said that everyone calls him Indy. But you don’t. Why is that?" She bit her lip when she heard the slightly aggrieved groan coming from Indiana.

"She just had to ask that, didn’t she?" Indy mumbled.

"Simple," Henry beamed. "He’s named after me." He pointed to himself. "Henry Jones," then his finger shifted in the direction of his son, "Junior!"

"I hate that name," Indy grumbled. Willow blinked a few times, the wheels turning in her head.

"So where’d you come up with Indiana?"

Once again Henry answered. "That was the dog’s name."

"You’re named after a dog!" Buffy shrieked then fell into a fit of laughter.

Indy glowered at her, then reached out to tug at her hair. "I wouldn’t be so smug there short stuff. After all, it’s a predicament that we share."

"Huh?" Buffy’s laughter stopped short. She glanced around the room, suddenly trying to understand why her mother was trying to hide her face in the bottom of her wassail cup.

"Uh, it means that…"her mother was beet red and stumbling over her words.

"Oh Joyce," Indy mocked chidingly. "How could you never have told Buffy who she was named after?"

"But… but," Buffy protested. She took a step forward, her face stony. "You always said that you named me Buffy ‘cause-!"

"I know what I told you," Joyce cut in awkwardly. "And it just seemed better than the truth."

"Which is what?" she demanded, aggrieved. Joyce sighed and set her cup down on the coffee table.

"The truth is that… one night in college…" she began hesitantly. The look on her daughter’s face told her that she needed to spill. Immediately! It all came out in a rush. "Some friends and I were drunk and we ended up playing ‘Truth or Dare’. When it was my turn, I took dare. And my best friend dared me to name my first child after her French poodle, Buffy. I agreed. Years later, when I was pregnant, she reminded me of it and I thought she was serious. So… we named you Buffy. After that, it was too late to change it and well.. your father and I grew to like it."

"Oh my God!" Buffy hissed as everyone around them broke out into laughter. "You named me after a… a… poodle!" She couldn’t believe it. She was mortified. All the teasing she had taken… all the grief… and all this time… "A poodle?"

"Well it could be worse," Willow offered tentatively. She wasn’t at all surprised when Buffy rounded on her with a glare known to make Vampires shudder in their boots.

"How?" Buffy demanded tersely. "How could it be worse?"

"Well, at least you weren’t a boy," she offered, sending everyone into new peals of amusement.

"Yeah," Buffy scoffed. "Thank God for small favors." She finally turned and gestured to her cousin. "Let’s go dog boy."

"After you poodle-kins," Indy returned with a wide, sweeping gesture.

"Dog boy!"

"Poodle-kins!"

"Dog boy!"

""Poodle-kins"

Joyce and Henry shared a bemused look as their children led Willow out the front door, arguing good-naturedly the whole way. Willow paused before pulling the door shut behind her. "Thanks again and Merry Christmas Mrs. Summers, Dr. Jones."

"And a Merry Christmas to you too!"

"And Happy Hanukkah!"