Fiction- AtHwA12- Sleeping Arrangements

Title: All That Heaven Will Allow

Chapter Title: Chapter Eleven- Sleeping Arrangements

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to BtVS. They belong to Whedon & Mutant Enemy. I also do not own the rights to Charmed. They belong to the WB. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: Angst, Action, Humor

Pairing: canon pairings in both shows

Summary: Slayer dreams and Whitelighter-Witch hybrid powers collide when the veil between worlds come close to collapsing. Can baby Wyatt survive life on the Hellmouth?

Spoilers/ Time line: Season 4 (after “Harsh Light Of Day”) of Buffy and Season 6 (after “Forget Me... Not”) Of Charmed.

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This was one of my contributions started for NaNoWriMo 2012. The story was by no means completed in that month and I am looking forward to continuing it.

A/N2: There is a definite time difference between these two worlds and the seasons that I am using. This will hopefully, be explained within the fiction itself.

All That Heaven Will Allow

Chapter Eleven

Sleeping Arrangements

Long used to hosting Scooby meetings at her house now, because it was just an extension of hanging out with her friends, Buffy had everyone quickly organized. Whatever Xander had said to Anya outside had calmed the ex demon considerably and from the twinkle in Oz's eyes, they might get to hear about it. Or not. The werewolf had developed better hearing during his human time only as a result of his affliction. Which Oz hadn't minded too much, it was useful after all. Of course that didn't feel as good, now hearing the nuances of the sucky in the band's playing, of which he was lead guitarist.

“Okay,” Buffy sighed as she fidgeted slightly in her seat. “Wills, what did you,” she noticed Anya's mouth drop open and turned to give the other blond in the room a tight smile, “and Anya discover?” The inclusion was enough to stop the protest or comment of whatever it might have been that Anya was going to make.

“Oh, well, it's nothing really,” Willow began, cuddling with Oz, tilting her head to the side. “I mean, not in the sense of finding something. But we have a way to find something.”

“Huh?” Buffy grunted, waiting for the clarity that she would hope would come.

“What she means is that she realized that the spell we performed can be mutated to track the magical signature of the infant that you rescued from the Hellmouth,” Anya was the one to provide that clarity, though with less harsh bluntness than normal. “Although I could have told you that ages ago. Again, because someone didn't bother to ask,” she huffed and Buffy hid a smile.

“Ahn,” Xander seemed to automatically step in these days to explain or argue or find some way to silence her protests, which was good because the others seemed to just naturally fall back to wishing for a blunt object in their hands to deal with the newly re-humanned girl.

“Remember we talked about this?” he reminded her. Anya sighed as she rolled her head back on her neck to stare up at the ceiling.

“Yes and it was decided that I'm to blame because I'm not forthright enough to provide others with information before they ask for it, when I never know what's going to be welcome because my mode of speech is different than everyone else's. Which I don't know why is such an important point to this conversation,” she complained. “If the ambassadors of feuding countries can manage to sit down and communicate without problem, then why should I have to change how I talk to accommodate all of you?” She drew a breath and Buffy could see that the others were gearing up to take offense, if they hadn't already. But as usual, it was Oz with his cool and collectedness that diffused the situation.

“Isn't that one of Xander's functions?” he teased. “That's what he's been doing, right? Explaining and clarifying? Translating?”

Anya appeared taken back for a moment and then beamed up at her boyfriend. “Why yes, he has. Although perhaps he might benefit from watching some CSPAN. Very informative, you know?”

“Okay, I thought I was doing a pretty good job, especially with the learning curve we've got,” Xander defended himself, humor restored. “But we'll table that discussion for later and get back to the main agenda, all right?”

“I suddenly find myself turned on by your attempt to emulate the politicians that run this nation or at least the talking heads that fill the screen during important political debates,” Anya announced and suddenly the weirded out factor was back in full force.

“We'll talk about it, uh that, later Ahn, focus,” Xander urged and then with a slightly abashed look, turned to the others and clapped his hands together. “Okay, magical baby. Let's run with that.”

“Yes, Willow,” Giles nodded, turning back to the redheaded female. “You can track Wyatt's magical... residue, as it were?”

“Uh huh,” Willow nodded. “See, we were trying that first spell and were trying to locate precisely where the baby would be arriving and the spell lit up.”

“It was very pretty,” Anya added. “All the purples and blues and yellows.”

“And the turquoise,” Willow chuckled, for once in unusual agreement with the ex-demon. “We're pretty sure that was Wyatt.”

“Why would you think that?” Giles wondered idly, or perhaps not so much, but his British stiff upper lip kept him from appearing too excited.

“Because we found Buffy at the Hellmouth and since there hasn't been any magic going on there, it was pretty easy to track her going in and then coming back out and when she came back out she had this brilliant blue with her, so...” Willow shrugged.

“What color was I?” Buffy wondered. “And why was I? I don't do magic.”

“It's an extension of the Slayer gift,” Giles hypothesized though the others didn't realize that, since he sounded so sure of himself. “A natural by product of the way you were gifted with your abilities.”

“So I'm not magic?” Buffy deciphered and it was Giles, Anya and Willow that nodded.

“It was very faint,” Anya pointed out kindly. “Just the barest hint of red.”

“I was red?” Buffy scrunched her face up as she thought about it. “Is that good or bad?” she wondered, looking to her mentor and then friend for an answer.

“I wouldn't necessarily assume that it's bad Buffy,” Giles soothed as he removed his glasses from his face and a handkerchief from his pocket. Settling back to clean his glasses once more, because everyone knew what dust magnets they were, he continued. “This is just a trace on the magic that was performed on you, truly on every Slayer. It's an indication of the ancient magic users and not a reflection of you.”

“Oh, okay,” Buffy accepted. She turned back to Willow. “So Wyatt is blue? How does that help?”

“Well we,” Willow gestured to herself and Anya, “saw that there was only one blue signature of that exact shade. So we might be able to start searching for the same shade of blue elsewhere, until we find it and then we can figure out where to go from there.”

“Of course, she's not adding that it's going to take a long time,” Anya put in. “Not to mention the cost of the ingredients for repeated spell use. And there are going to be concentrated areas of magic users that will need special attention. Not to say anything about the infant being from another world or dimension.” She ticked the things off on her fingers as the problems seemed to come more easily than the solutions did.

“Be that as it may,” Giles sighed, “I'm quite sure we'll manage. Willow, make a list of the ingredients and we'll get started on the spell casting as soon as possible. We can also go through other means, I'm sure. I would suggest going global to start to see if we can narrow down an area to look and if that's too much, perhaps continental.”

“We're gonna need some maps then,” Willow nodded, happy to contribute.

“Okay, since that's taken care of, or will be,” Buffy announced, “then we have something more important to discuss.”

“What's that?” Xander wondered and Buffy regarded them all as seriously as she could, evaluating her friends in the light of new criteria.

“Who's gonna babysit?” she announced, followed by a wicked grin.

AtHwA~AtHwA

After the debate, in which Anya and Oz had immediately protested, one much calmer than the other, which was no problem, since Buffy had dismissed them instantly because of Wyatt's almost predilection to mistrust or be afraid of them, there had been discussion as to what they would do to care for the child.

Schedules had been drawn up and Buffy was happy with what they had figured out. As she lay in bed, slightly regretful that she hadn't gone out for a patrol, but knowing that the other events of the day and evening took precedence, she took deep calming breaths. There had been several creatures, monsters that she had defeated in the actual Hellmouth itself. So if that ever opened up again, then yay, several less things that could come out of it.

Looking after Wyatt was going to be a challenge, for all of them. But she was sure they could do it. He felt... important, somehow. They needed to do this. Like their safety, their world might depend on it. And since she was a champion of humanity, then right now it fell to her. But there was just something amazing about holding that baby. Something Buffy had never thought to encounter. And it wasn't, she was pretty sure, that he was just a baby and was bringing up longings for one. She had sorta dealt with that through Angel. And through her Slaying. Knowing that it was probably never in the cards for her.

But when she held Wyatt and protected him, kept him safe, know that even if in just a small part, he was loved, she felt whole. She felt like anything was possible. And it was nice to see that. To look down into his face and know that if she kept him safe and got him home to his family, then maybe he would have a chance at a good life. It was something she knew, academically that fighting monsters was making the world better for the people, the humanity that inhabited it. There wasn't a lot she could do about the mundane badness of life. But if she kept doing her job and the Slayer that followed kept it up and so on and so forth, then maybe humanity would have the chance to get it right someday.

She was just starting to drift off when she heard the baby start to whimper softly, from his drawer bed in her mother's room. She had checked on them when she had come up after the meeting had broken up, both mother and guest sound asleep. They could have put him in the spare bedroom but it was full of extra shipments for her mother's gallery. She waited a moment, as Wyatt's cry started to slowly escalate, wondering if her mother would wake. It didn't seem like it and she was just about to climb out of bed, when she heard and felt the tingle that she was starting to equate with Wyatt's teleportation power.

The next thing she knew, she had just pushed off the bed covers, when Wyatt was sitting up at her side, crying hard. Instantly her arms went around him, to steady and comfort him. “Oh, Wyatt, shh shh baby. Whatsa matter?” She rubbed at his back as he leaned forward, banging his head on her chest. “Ooh, oh, don't do that honey.” She quickly repositioned both of them so that she was now cradling him. “Did you have a bad dream? Are you hungry?” She frowned as he continued to cry and tried to think her way logically through what he as a baby might need. “Uh, diaper? Did you get wet again?” She continued to rub his back gently, while with her other hand, gingerly felt at the diaper that did seem fuller than before.

“Okay, little guy, I got this,” she soothed. “Though why Mom didn't wake up... But then, you know, this woulda probably been a lot more effective than those bezoar eggs they gave out in high school.” She climbed out of bed with the baby in her arms, rambling about nonsensical topics as she padded down to her mother's room to retrieve the diapers.

“Quiet now,” she warned softly as Wyatt whimpered into her shoulder. “Mom has to work in the morning. She's not a night owl like us, little guy.” Wyatt responded by stuffing some of Buffy's Yummy Sushi pajamas that she had left behind on her last laundry run, into his mouth and gumming at them. “Hungry too, huh? Okay.”

Quiet wasn't enough as her mother rolled over and lifted her head. “Hmm? Buffy?”

“It's okay mom,' Buffy assured the woman. “Wyatt needs a change. I got it. Go back to sleep.”

“”kay,” Joyce murmured and settled back down into her bed. Buffy pulled a few diapers from the packet they'd been using as well as the wipes and cream and padded out of the bedroom to the bathroom. She laid Wyatt down on the rug in front of the counter and tickled at his tummy before opening up his pajamas.

“Good thing I can see pretty well in the dark,” she quietly teased the little guy as he kicked his legs free. “Don't wanna blind you by turning on the light. Okay, let's see the damage.”

Luckily he was just wet and after she had changed him, rose to dispose of the diaper and wash her hands. Wyatt, now redressed, pushed himself over and up into a sitting position, before lifting his arms to her and making more noises that weren't quite upset sounds, but not too happy either. Buffy could have sworn that he was almost talking to her. But there weren't any grown up words in there at all.

“Are you telling me a story?” she grinned as she bent over to pick him up, the memory playing in her mind. It was something her mother always said to her when she was young and talking nonsense when she played with her dolls. She had seen her mother do it as well, when babies would babble. Wyatt seemed calmer now though still slightly agitated as she made her way downstairs. “You keep talking kiddo,” she encouraged. “I'll have you sayin' Buffy before you know it!”

She turned at the bottom of the stairs and headed to the kitchen. “Hope I can read the directions right,” she said through a yawn. “You can wait a sec for a bottle, right?” Wyatt kicked his feet and held up his hand.

“Maa!” he cried and Buffy blinked several times. Well, that was as clear as day.

“Oh honey,” she cooed, brining him up closer to her face. “Do you miss your mommy? I sure don't blame you. I'm a poor substitute. But we'll take care of you, sweetheart.”

Wyatt snuffled some more as Buffy found the grocery bag. She smiled as she noted that her mother had taken time to write out the instructions in large bold block print on a pad of paper. Several things were underlined, like not using the microwave to heat the bottle and also testing it on her wrist first. “Nice of Mom to think ahead, huh little guy?” She was relieved to read that she could let the water heat up from the tap instead of having to boil it on the stove. Thanking several times, her Slayer blessed dexterity, that she was able to put together a bottle with mostly one hand, she soon had what she hoped was an acceptable midnight snack for the baby. Now to see if he'd take it.

He wasn't as interested in the bottle as he was the first time Joyce offered it to him, but Buffy figured that that was probably normal. After all, he had been fed earlier when he was desperately hungry, so that was good. And there was a bottle now if he wanted it. Guess babies were pretty self centered and it figured that Wyatt would figure he'd be taken care of. It was just surprising to Buffy that he had gone to her.

As she finally settled into a slightly awkward position so that Wyatt could drink easily, she thought a little more about that. Was it a sign of trust? Was it because she had been the one to rescue him? Well, he had rescued them just as much, before falling asleep before their climb back up out of the pit. Getting them back to the way out. How had he known how to go there? Was he like a mind reading super baby as well? She'd have to remember to mention that to Giles when she saw him. Maybe knowing exactly what his powers were would help them to find the rest of his family.

She continued to silently muse until Wyatt had drank the majority of the bottle and then pushed it away. “Maa,” he cried again, and Buffy instantly focused on the little guy once more.

“I'm sorry baby, I know,” she hushed him, bringing her lips to his forehead. “I want to get you home, but we don't know how sweetie. Unless you can do it yourself, it's gonna take time.”

As if he could understand her Wyatt snuggled deeper in her arms and Buffy very carefully set the bottle on the side table. Standing, she carried the sleepy baby back up to her mother's room. Joyce seemed a little more alert than previously as she lifted her head yet again to watch her daughter deposit the baby back in his make shift bed.

“Okay, go to sleep now,” Buffy crooned as she adjusted the top blanket. “Sleep Wyatt. Sleeeeeepy.”

“Buffy,” her mother's voice was wry though quiet. “Go to bed honey. He'll drop off on his own.”

“Okay Mom,” she agreed, since of the three in the room, who was the ranking expert on babies? She pressed one more kiss to Wyatt's forehead and rose up. She exited the room, though she felt a little unsettled. She made it back to her room and into her bed, just getting the blankets adjusted when Wyatt transported himself back to her side like he had done earlier. Buffy's eyebrows went up as she regarded him. “You little imp,” she chuckled. “It's beddy bye time now.” She lifted him up and padded out of the room and back to her mother's.

“Buffy?” her mother questioned, sitting up in her bed now. “My goodness, he likes you, hmmm?”

“Yep,” Buffy agreed as she put him back in the drawer. “You gonna stay there, young man?” she asked as sternly as she could, but Wyatt went right back into her arms as Buffy quickly adjusted to the sudden weight. Her mother's tired chuckle told her this might be a problem.

“I suppose you could take the drawer back to your room,” Joyce suggested sleepily.

“All right,” Buffy huffed, though she was far from upset. She pursed her lips at Wyatt and quickly set him in the drawers and then lifted it up. “Ha, fooled you,” she teased softly as Wyatt giggled. “Good night Mom.”

“m'night Buffy,” Joyce chuckled back. “G'night Wyatt.”

It took a moment fro Buffy to get them settled. She had originally set the drawer on the floor next to her bed, but Wyatt's mouth dropping had her changing her mind. She lifted him up to her bed, thankful it wasn't a teeny tiny mattress like in her dorm room. She shoved the drawer to the side closer to the wall and climbed in after him. She looked down at him as she fixed the blankets so she would be covered. “Just so I don't roll over and squish you, okay baby?”

She smoothed his blanket over him and when he caught her finger, smiled as she propped her head up to watch as he finally drifted off again. Once assured that he was safe and warm and dry, Buffy allowed herself some rest at last.

AtHwA~AtHwA

Phoebe sat in her elder sister's room. After the horrifying and tumultuous events of the day and the day that repeated and then this night, Piper had been running on empty and beyond. Emotionally drained and about to fall apart. She had finally collapsed after Sandra the Elder's visit. At her limit or worse, she and Paige had worried that she was pushing too hard. It would not help get Wyatt back if his mother killed herself in the effort. Paige had orbed her down to her bed from the attic and then went back to working on possible solutions while Phoebe had sat with her older sister.

There wasn't anything she could really do, other than rally at her sister's side, to try and lend Piper some of her emotional strength. There was a well there that she never knew existed until times like these tested her. She knew the pain of losing a child, even if she understood that the child had never really belonged to her. Her son had been loved, but even that had not been enough to save him. She couldn't understand intellectually the devastation of losing Wyatt.

She understood it on an emotional level.

Such as she was feeling now as Piper moved through dreams that must seem a nightmare. As much as her waking hours had been. But then, there was a shift. Phoebe lifted her head from the seat in the corner, though Piper had not moved. She wondered if her sister was waking, as things seemed a little lighter, if that was the right word, than they had a moment ago.

Piper did not move or make a sound, but the lightening continued. Until at last Phoebe felt the easing and heard her sister's soft sigh,

“Wyatt.”

Chapter 12- Fueling Up