Disclaimer: Do not own or claim rights to BtVS or NCIS
A/N 1: This is in response to Suzanne's Challenge, #4633 – Whispers of Willow
A/N 2: To make it fit, I have adjusted the timelines. The NCIS stands as is, while Buffy has been moved up so that Season 1 of NCIS coincides with Season 2 Buffy, both occurring in 2003. Specifically, this is starts roughly somewhere between Halloween and What's My Line Pt 1.~~~~~
“What are those?” Xander asked, peering at the cards Willow had pulled out of a box.
“Home blood type testing kits. It's cool – you just need a bit of blood and some water, and do the test, and it tells you your type,” Willow explained, gushing just a little.
“Huh. I already know mine. B+,” Xander offered.
“How do you know your blood type?” Buffy asked, surprised.
“Oh, you know. I got tested a few years ago. They told me because it's supposed to be a rare-ish type, and I need to be able to tell people if I need blood.”
“So why do you have so many, Willow?”
“Oh, I wanted to test my parents as well. You know, just one of those things.”
“Coolies. Just so long as you don't expect me to do that. I like my blood safely on the inside, thank you.”
Xander looked at Buffy in confusion. “Um, you're the Slayer, right? You fight the forces of darkness just about every night?”
“You seriously expect to keep your blood on the inside?”
“As much as possible, hence the no-voluntary-bloodletting,” the little blonde agreed amiably.
“Why so sad, my Willow-girl?” Xander asked as he slung an arm around her shoulder.
Willow looked around the lunch room nervously. “I need you to help me with something this afternoon, after school.”
“You know I'd do anything for you,” he reassured his friend, concern tinting his voice. “What do you need?”
She bit her lip. “Do you remember those blood typing kits I got?” When Xander nodded, she went on. “Well, I tested myself, and came up as A+ blood type. Well, Mom and Dad are still in Argentina, and I couldn't wait, so I got into their medical records and both Mom and Dad have O group blood, and that means I can't possibly be their child, because two O group parents can't give birth to an A group child, or any blood type than O group, because it's not genetically possible for them to do so, and that means that they aren't my parents, or maybe one of them is my parent, but the other one isn't, and does that mean that one of them cheated on the other? And I want to find my birth certificate to see if they put my real parents' names on it, and to see if I can find my real parents, because I just want to know who they are, and where I come from, and what my real name is, and will you help me please? I need to get into the attic, and I don't really want to go there by myself. Will you help me please?”
Xander stared at her for a moment, stunned. “Um. Okay. Still getting over that one. You really excelled that time, Will,” he grinned. “So basically your parents aren't your parents, or maybe not, at least, or something, and you want me to help you go through stuff in your attic?” When his redheaded friend nodded, he smiled again. “Sure, no problems. This afternoon, was it?”
“Yep. That's okay?” she asked anxiously.
“Cool. Break in at the Rosenberg residence.”
Willow looked at him. “It's not a break in if it involves the person living there.”
“You spoil all my fun,” he pouted.~~~~~
Xander sneezed. “So what are we looking for here?”
“Well, you're more here for moral support. And maybe moving heavy boxes. It should be here somewhere...” she trailed off, checking boxes. “Ah! Here.” She pulled a box forward, and opened it. “Okay... And here's my birth certificate!” she grinned. “Willow Danielle Rosenberg, born May 25, 1987. Mother is Sheila Myer and, oh, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I have a father!”
“Of course you do, Will. Otherwise you wouldn't be here,” her friend countered, grinning.
“Duh. No, I mean, my father is actually named here. Oh, it says he's a Marine. Hey – that means I can find him,” she grinned. “I can find my real Dad!”
Xander grinned and hugged her. “That's brilliant, Will. Oh, and hey! You can get your licence now, too.”
“Yeah. Hey, have you seen your birth certificate? Won't you need that for your licence?”
“Yes and no. Or should that be 'no and yes?'” He frowned in thought. “Um, 'no', I haven't seen my birth certificate, and 'yes', I will need it.” He smiled. “Want to return the favour?”
Willow bit her lip. “Will it be, you know, okay to go over?”
“Oh, yeah. Mom's at work, and Dad's bar has happy hour from three o'clock onwards today. The house will be empty until about nine tonight.”
“Let's go then,” the redhead grinned.~~~~~
“Welcome to the penthouse suite of La Casa Harris,” Xander grandly announced, waving his arm to include the whole of the attic. “You'll notice the Bohemian atmosphere, and casual setting,” he added, looking at the scattered and badly stacked boxes. “Hm, now if I were a box of important identification documents, where would I be hiding?” he mused. After a moment, he started pulling boxes out, and setting them aside. “Frankly, in this house, I'm going to start at the hardest to find, and go from there.”
“Such an optimist,” Willow mocked.
“I prefer the term 'realist', thank you very much.” He selected a somewhat battered looking box, and opened it, shuffling through items. “Ha! Oh ye of little faith,” he gloated as he pulled out a file. “This is my birth stuff. And here is my birth certificate. Good. And my mother's name is Jessica Anne Hayes, and my father is … oh.”
Willow looked at her friend in concern. He was just sitting there, looking at the paper, stunned. “Well? What is it?”
“My father's name is Anthony DiNozzo. Huh. Says he's from Long Island, NY.”
“But, that's good? Maybe? That means that … he … isn't your father. Isn't that good?”
“Yeah. It's good. It means I'm not a Harris, and that's definitely of the good. Hey, you want to go looking for two men, instead of one?”
“Sure,” Willow smiled at her best male friend. “Only it's probably going to take longer to find a normal person than someone in the army.”
“Marines, Will. You said he was a Marine, and that's definitely not army,” he grinned. “So. Research party? You do the research, and I party?”
“I do the research, and you do your homework, mister.”
“Aw, Will,” the brunet whined.~~~~~
The investigator snatched up the phone. “Gibbs,” he all but snarled.
“Oh. Um. Ah, would that be Leroy Jethro Gibbs?”
The sound of a girl's voice, soft and hesitant, jerked him back. “Speaking,” he replied, calmer. “How can I help you?”
“Um, well, it's kind of like this. I was doing a blood test to check my blood type, because I like doing things like that, because I like science and school, and stuff, but my blood type came out as A group, and I found out my parents are both O group, because it's on the medical records they keep at home, which means they're universal donors, or is that right? Isn't it O-negative the universal donor? And they are both O-positive, so I went looking for my birth certificate, because I'd never actually seen it before and it said my father's name was Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and he was in the Marines, and I did some checking, and you're the first Leroy Jethro Gibbs that I could find who was in the Marines, which isn't the army, 'cause Xander said it wasn't, and he knows these things, and I was wondering if you were my Dad?”
He sat there, stunned by the speed and volume of words that had just flowed out of the young girl. Even as he was working his way through her speech, the phone was taken over by someone else.
“Sorry about that. I would have grabbed the phone a minute ago, but I was too far away,” the boy's voice was wry, and a little embarrassed. “Er, though what she said was right. I just don't think you would have had a chance to understand that, did you?”
“She thinks I'm her father.”
“Okay. Well, congratulations, you just mastered Willow-babble. It's an intense course, and only the best survive. That would be you and me,” the boy joked.
“I have a babbler here, too.”
“Ah, a past master. Okay. So what do we do next? 'Cause Will has an awfully official looking piece of paper here with your name on it.”
“Who's her mother, and when was she born?”
“Yeah, I guess that would help. Well, I know her as Sheila Rosenberg, but that's her married name. Just a sec.” Gibbs heard the sound of someone fetching something, and his supposed daughter's voice in the background. It seemed like they were having something of an argument about who should handle this, and he thought the pair had came to an agreement that he should handle her family, while she would handle his family.
“Okay, here we go. Sheila Myer. And Will was born on May 25, 1987. So that would mean the deed was done in, er,” Gibbs heard a muffled conversation, “um August 1986. Does that sound right?”
“'The deed was done?'”
“Heh. Well, it's either me discussing my best friend's illegitimate conception with her possible Dad, or Willow-babble times major freak out. Your choice.”
Gibbs chuckled. “You got balls, kid.”
“Oh, no. Just a really inappropriate sense of humour. So. August 1986, with the redheaded Sheila Myer. Ring any bells.”
Gibbs shook his head. “Even if it didn't the fact she was a redhead pretty much seals the deal.”
“Ah. You have a thing for the scarlet locks.”
Gibbs shook his head. “I think I have your father in my team,” he grinned.
“Who? Anthony DiNozzo?”
When he didn't get a response, Xander tried again. “You still there?”
“Who did you say your father was?”
“Er. Anthony DiNozzo. From New York State. Why?”
“When were you born?”
Gibbs put the phone down and called across to his team mate. “DiNozzo, get over here.” When the younger man was standing in front of him, he went on. “Where you getting any girls pregnant in early 1986?”
“Me? No. I was fifteen. I would have tried, but never got quite that far.”
“What's your father's name?”
“Anthony Senior. Why?”
He picked up the phone again. “What was your name, kid?”
“Xander. Um, Alexander Harris, sir.”
“Never an officer, kid. Don't call me 'sir'. What was your mother's name?”
“Jessica Hayes. Why do you need to know this?”
Gibbs put the phone down again. “Any way of finding out if your dad was having an affair with a woman named Jessica Hayes in early 1986? You may just have a baby brother.”
“Son of a bitch! Bastard just couldn't keep it in his pants. Huh. Knowing dear old Dad, it may just be easier and quicker to get a sibling DNA test done. How'd you even find this kid?”
“I said I thought I had his dad in my team. He offered up the name. It could be bogus, he's speaking on behalf of his friend, who thinks she's my daughter.” He shrugged. “The names and timing fit.” He thought about it for a moment, letting it sink in, finally, that he might just have a daughter out there.
The sound of Xander's voice brought him back to reality, and he lifted the phone to his ear again. “I'm here. Settle down there, okay?”
“You just disappeared. What's going on? You were asking all those questions, and they have nothing to do with Will, or being her Dad, and why are you even asking me about my parents when that's not what this call is all about -”
“And I'm back again,” Willow interrupted. “Sorry about that. We both tend to babble when we freak out, and Xander was really freaking out there, and I kind of thought you'd had enough of that for one day. So. Tell.”
“You both do it,” he muttered in disbelief.
“Yep,” came the sunny reply. “So, spill. What's this about Xander's Dad?”
“In the weirdest of coincidences, I may have his half-brother on my team. Look,” Gibbs decided, “tell me where you are, and we will both come out to discuss this properly.”
“We're in Sunnydale. That's a couple of hours north of LA. We've got an airport, but it's probably better to just fly into LA and drive out to Sunnydale. Um. It's kind of better to get here in daylight. If you think you'll get here after dark, call us before you go anywhere, okay? Or better yet, stay in LA and come see us the next day. Um. Okay, so is that okay?”
“You got a problem there?”
“A bit of a gang problem. People stay in at night, and the motels aren't really that good. So.”
“Okay, I'll call you back as soon as I can to let you know when we can get there.”
“Great. I'll give you my home number, and I'll also give you the library's number. We spend a lot of time there. It's a, um, study club we're in. And Giles can take a message. He's the librarian, and he's in charge of the, um club. So he knows us all. Okay?” With that, she recited the numbers, and hung up.
“Well?” Xander demanded.
“He thinks he works with your brother,” she explained, feeling somewhat faint from the day's revelations. “They're coming out here to talk to us. Oh, no. Mom and Dad won't be back for another month. And they can't meet your parents. What are we going to do?
Xander shrugged. “Talk to Giles? We kind of have to, anyway. You gave your Dad his number.” He bit his lip. This had gone much further than he had ever expected.
A/N: Okay, so colour me silly, but I used the wrong years for Willow and Xander. I've corrected it, but to be clear, Willow's DOB is 25 May, 1987, and Xander's is November, 1986. This makes them 16 and 17 respectively in December 2003 (roughly the starting time for this story.) Just to orient the story, Buffy would be turning 17 in January 2004 (instead of January 1998, the original timeline of Buffy Season 2.)