Title: Revelations
Summary: Response to Vic's challenge to have a character explaining the birds & the bees to someone else's kid.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Archived at: www.angelfire.com/tv2/legendmf, eventually.
Thanks to: the evil mastermind Vic, Pete, Jen, and Dot, as always.
"My parents want grandchildren," Fred announced. She heaved a big sigh.
Gunn looked up from his newspaper. "So, what ya gonna do? Steal some?"
Fred shrugged. She dropped into the seat opposite him at the table and toyed with the edge of the tablecloth. "I don't have a husband. Or a boyfriend. I don't even want kids, really. You're right. Stealing would be the easiest way."
Angel's voice rose up from another part of the hotel. "FRED! WHAT'S GOING ON?!"
Rubbing her forehead, Fred stood. "Did I mention that they sent my cousin over to convince me?"
***
Cordelia crouched in front of the small blonde girl on the steps. She said in a sugary voice, "What's your name, little one?"
"Stinkbomb," the girl said proudly.
"Huh," Cordelia said. She turned to the others, who were gathered behind her in the lobby. "Well, I'm done. I have to go out. Birthday shopping to do." She picked up her black purse, smoothed her satin skirt, and walked towards the door.
"Okay," Fred said nervously. She ran her fingers through her hair. Cordelia waved, then left.
Angel nodded. "I have to go out, too."
Fred shot him a betrayed look.
Taking off his glasses, Wesley frowned at Angel. He took a piece of soft cloth from his pocket and began polishing his glasses. "That's interesting," he said in a measured tone, "considering it's daylight."
Angel protested, "I have to see a man."
"About a dog?" Wesley inquired.
"About a -" Angel slumped. "Oh, all right. Children make me jittery."
"Angel, you have faced demons, vampires, spells,"
"Machines that go 'ping'," Gunn prompted.
Wesley nodded. "Machines that go — yes, thank you, Gunn." Gunn snickered. Wesley continued huffily, "As I was saying, you have faced many foes without flinching, yet the thought of entertaining a child for a few hours perturbs you?"
"Could be days," Fred muttered.
Wesley froze. He took a deep breath, put the cloth back in his pocket, and settled his glasses firmly on his nose. "Days?"
"Mom and Dad didn't say," Fred said helplessly. "They just said my aunt and uncle went on holidays, and Mom will be back to pick her up later. And, 'have fun'."
"I see," Wesley said. He looked over at the girl, who was picking at loose threads in the carpet on the stairs. She wore a pink skirt and a black top with the words "J.LO SUCKS" in gold writing. "What's her name?"
"Stinkbomb," the girl repeated. Her mouth set in a stubborn line. "Or Fang. That's it."
Wesley raised an eyebrow at Fred. She shrugged, frowning. "The last time I saw her, she was two. I don't know how to handle her."
Angel said, "Can we know her real name, at least? And how come Cordy got to escape?"
"Cordelia moves quickly," Fred told him, voice rising nervously. "It's Violet. Often pronounced 'Violent', unless she's past the whole biting and kicking stage. Easier to call her Stinkbomb."
"Great! This keeps getting better and better," Gunn said. "I hope she's past the whole thermonuclear devices stage, too."
Wesley looked at Fred. She stepped backwards, shaking her head, giving control to him. "Let's begin with some food. Ah, excuse me, Stinkbomb?"
They tried breakfast.
Stinkbomb burst into tears at the sight of scrambled eggs. "She visited a farm last week, I think," Fred told the others, after spending ten minutes trying to calm her sobs.
Cereal and orange juice just weren't good choices.
Bacon got them a lecture on saturated fats. "Hasn't made the bacon/pig connection yet?" Angel asked.
"Hasn't made the bacon/pig connection," Fred confirmed.
Stinkbomb tested the aerodynamic potential of Fred's pancakes by skimming them into the kitchen.
Sausages weren't popular, either. Stinkbomb held one up and inspected it. Gunn ducked, exposing the stains on the wall where she'd thrown her orange juice and cereal. When nothing came his way, he cautiously raised his head and looked over the top of the table. Stinkbomb pointed at him, then waggled the sausage. "Where do babies come from?"
Gunn glanced at Fred. "This kid's meant to make you want to have kids?"
"Or kill myself. Six of one. . ." Fred admitted.
"Where do babies come from?" Stinkbomb insisted. She pointed the sausage at Angel, then Wesley, then Gunn. Gunn ducked again.
"How about we go exploring?" said Wesley, ever resourceful.
After they cleaned up, they climbed the stairs. Wesley began to explain the layout and history of the hotel. Ignoring him, Stinkbomb stopped on a landing and jabbed Fred in the ribs. "Where were you?" Wesley grimaced and stopped talking.
"What do you mean, honey?" Fred asked. When Stinkbomb glared, she quickly amended, "-Stinkbomb?"
"Where were you for so long?"
Wesley and Fred exchanged glances.
Wesley said, "Holiday."
Fred said, "Working."
Gunn said, "Hospital."
Angel said, "Convent."
"Fine, don't tell me," Stinkbomb said. She flounced ahead of them.
"Wait!" Fred called. She ran up a flight of stairs, then paused. "Convent?!"
"Sorry," said Angel.
Fred raced after Stinkbomb. She caught up with her in the old laundry room. Stinkbomb was staring out the window. Fred leaned on the windowsill next to her. "I went a long way away, Stinkbomb. I couldn't get back. Angel, Wesley, Gunn and Cordelia, all helped me."
"That's good," Stinkbomb said seriously. "You should help people." She smiled at Fred. Fred reached over to ruffle her hair. "Where do babies come from?"
Fred stopped. "Let's find the others, okay?"
They went to the gardens.
"Where do babies come from?"
They found some paint and wrote their names on the walls of the most dilapidated hotel room.
"Where do babies come from?"
They told stories about horses and Leonardo DiCaprio.
"Where do babies come from?"
Desperate, they told stories about ghosts, murders, and blood.
"Where do babies come from?"
They left the room and conferred. "We'll have to tell her something," Angel said. He frowned. "I'm not doing it."
"I don't know what to say," Fred agreed.
Gunn grinned. "Don't look at me. I wouldn't know." He whistled a jaunty tune and turned casually towards Wesley.
"Oh, all right," Wesley said. He pointed at each of them in turn. "But you people have to be in the room with me. You don't escape that easily."
They filed back into the room. Stinkbomb looked up from her pile of shredded newspaper, a politely enquiring expression on her face. "Are you gonna tell me now?"
Wesley knelt in front of her. His knees cracked. "Ow." He stood, painfully, and sat back down. Angel leaned against the wall, as close to the door as he could get. Gunn stood behind Angel. Fred gave Wesley a helpless smile. Wesley tried to put a gentle, receptive expression on his face, but it felt like he looked constipated. "Stinkbomb," he began, "when a man and a woman love each other very much-"
Stinkbomb shook her head. "Not a man and a man? My uncle George and uncle Lionel have three kids."
"All right," Wesley regrouped. "Two men, or two women, can be parents, but to make a baby, you need a man and a woman."
"Okay," Stinkbomb said suspiciously.
"So, as I was saying, when a man and a woman love each other very much-"
"Where's their woman, then?"
"Pardon?"
"They must've had a woman, too. Where is she?"
"I don't know. Perhaps you should ask them."
"Can I call them?"
Flushing, Wesley was aware of three muffled snickers behind him. "Not just now, Stinkbomb."
"Okay. So, how are babies made?"
"The man and the woman get into bed together."
"With the lights on or off? I heard Dad say everyone looks the same in the dark. Do they need the lights on so they know who they're making a baby with?"
Wesley cringed. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "No, that doesn't really matter. Uh, the man's seed-"
"Flower seed?"
Gunn spluttered, "His *seed*?"
Wesley stood. "All right, you try," he snapped. "I'd like to see you do any better. Without using any euphemisms."
"Ohhhhh, no, English," Gunn said. He paled. "That ain't gonna happen."
Cordelia's voice came from the lobby. "Hellooooooo? Where are you guys?"
Wesley slumped. "Oh, thank God!"
"It's our good friend Cordelia!" Angel cried.
Fred threw the door open. "Up here, Cordelia!" They all beamed at each other.
Stinkbomb scowled. "Are you gonna tell me, or not?"
"Just a minute," Fred said. She ushered the others outside the room. They all heaved deep breaths as if they'd been running a marathon.
Cordelia met them on the landing. She waved a handful of shopping bags. "What's up?"
"We have a situation, Cordelia," Angel said.
"Demon? Werewolf? Lemme guess, the kid's possessed?"
"Practically," said Wesley. "She wants to know the facts of life."
Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "Facts of life?"
"The birds and the bees," Gunn said helpfully.
Fred blurted, "Sex!"
Cordelia nodded slowly. She looked at each of them in turn. "Birds have sex with bees?"
"Cordelia, please," Wesley said, anguished. "Can you assist us?"
"Sure." Cordy shrugged. She dropped her bags and went inside the room.
The four on the landing listened closely.
They heard Cordy's voice whisper, then Stinkbomb exclaimed, "He does *what*?"
Whisper, whisper. "And that goes in *where*?!"
Whisper, whisper. "How does everything fit?"
Whisper, whisper. "It comes out of *what*?!"
Whisper, whisper. "EWWWWWWWWWWWW!!"
The door was thrown open. Stinkbomb barrelled out of the room and down the stairs, screeching, terror in her eyes. Cordelia followed, grinning. "I think she understands."
"I think she does," Fred agreed, eyes wide. "I better go get her."
They all followed Stinkbomb down the stairs. They found her sitting in the kitchen again, staring at a sausage. "Wow," she said softly, lost in thought.
A voice called out in the lobby again. "Winifred? Are you there, dear?"
"Mom!" Fred said in relief.
Babbling meaningless endearments, they ushered Stinkbomb into the lobby. Fred threw herself into her mother's arms. Stinkbomb looked up at Fred and smiled brightly. "This has been the *coolest* day, Aunt Winifred! When can I come again?"
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