Disclaimer: Don't own or claim rights to Buffy or NCIS
A/N: Tri-Emperor of The Twilight, over on fanfiction.net, made the comment: Man it's a good thing Willow moved to D.C. before she started going crazy with magic, can you imagine Gibbs finding out his "Princess" nearly nuked the earth? As I replied, I don't really need more ideas. Too late...~~~~~
Willow sagged against the doorway, grateful to be finally home. Well, her parents' home, anyway. She had slipped in, and planned to gather a few things before returning to Buffy's house. At least, she planned to return to Buffy's house. Except that that was where she and Tara had lived, and where Tara had died, and there were just so many memories tied up in that house that she wasn't sure if it would be possible for her to live there anymore. Not that she could live here anymore, not the way her parents looked at her, remote disgust in their eyes after her 'breakdown' a few months ago. All Buffy and Xander had told them was that she had gone to England for a 'mental health break.' Apparently, her parents had taken that to mean that she had cracked up (which she had) and had apparently decided she was no longer the perfect daughter they had raised her to be. Where she would go if she couldn't stay at Buffy's, she wasn't quite sure. Her head jerked when she heard her parents' raised voices below her. She crept out to the balcony, and stood there, listening, a little guiltily, to their fight.
“Well, obviously her addictive personality is an inherited condition,” she heard her father argue. “She certainly didn't get it from her upbringing.”
“You'd better not be blaming me for that,” her mother retorted angrily. “It must be from the sperm donor,” the woman announced.
“I daresay,” Ira dismissed. “Whatever possessed you to sleep with that … soldier ...” Willow could hear her father's distate, “is beyond me.”
“I was drunk,” Sheila sneered. “It's not like you were offering anything. You only ever wanted me as a convenient cover for your 'alternative lifestyle' so you could live a mainstream life.”
“And it was such a hardship for you,” Ira retorted. “God! You just wanted some excuse to go to all those 'conferences' so you could pick up random men.”
“Don't you pick at my sex life!”
Feeling faint, Willow slid to the floor and listened to the train-wreck of her parents' fight. She couldn't ever remember anything like this happening when she was home. It seemed that they kept all of this hidden for her, though she couldn't really blame them. After all, she had plenty of secrets that she kept from them. Horrific secrets.
“Do you at least have any idea where he is now? You could always check on him, and determine just how much his genetics have influenced her current condition.”
“Oh, please. What am I? Stupid? Of course I kept his details. He left the Marines in the nineties, and joined,” Willow heard a computer start up. “Oh, here... He joined the Naval Investigative Service after he left the Marines.” After a few minutes, her mother continued. “It's called Naval Criminal Investigative Service, now. He's some kind of detective. Well, obviously she gets her intellect from me.”
“Environmental factors obviously had a heavy impact on her intellect,” Ira argued.
“Oh, whatever,” Sheila dismissed. “I'll get someone to do a background on the man, see what they can dig up.” There was another pause, then, “So what's for dinner?”
Willow hurried back to her room, and closed the door. With any luck, her parents would never know she'd been in the house. She waited for them to leave, then hurried down to the den to find her mother had left the computer on. 'Nothing like making it easy for me,' she decided. She sat at the desk, and laid her hands on the keyboard, and closed her eyes, before gasping. Her eyes flew open, and she backed away from the desk.
“No,” she murmured. “No. I'm doing this right,” she decided. She clenched her fists, then straightened out her hands, and sat back down at the desk. “Alright, Willow, you can do this. You may be a few years out of the loop, but it's not like Mom's a super security type person. You can do this.” With that, she typed in a password. With a snort of disgust, she watched the computer let her in on her first try. “Oh, please. Your birthday? That's just lame, Mom. Okay. Where would you be?” she muttered, looking at the screen. She frowned, then shook her head as she clicked on the open file. There, before her, was a document featuring her mother's notes on one Jethro Gibbs, formerly of the US Marines, now a Special Agent of NCIS.
When Xander got home that evening, he found a very nervous Willow pacing the floor of his apartment. She was so occupied with whatever was disturbing her that she hadn't noticed his arrival, and he watched her pace, wringing her hands. He had to admit that she was looking better than when she'd left Sunnydale in Giles' custody. The last few months in England, undergoing her mystical rehab, had done her a lot of good, but now it seemed that something had set her back, because that tight look had returned.
Willow stopped her pacing immediately, and flew to him. “Oh, Xander, you're here. Oh, thank the goddess you're here. I really need you. I need to tell you something, and I need to ask you something, but I know you have a lot to do, and I can't just ask you to do something for me, because it's going to take a lot, and you have lots to do already, and I don't now if I can do it without you, but I really need to do it, and -”
Xander stopped the flow of babble by the simple expedient of covering his friend's mouth. Blue eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in a scowl, and then Xander had to rip his hand away from Willow's mouth, and the tongue that had smeared itself across his palm. He grimaced. “Oh, yuck, Will. I was just trying to get you to calm down so you could actually talk. Did you have to do that?”
Willow grinned. “Yes. Yes, I did.” All of a sudden, her heart felt light. It felt like she hadn't joked around with her best friend in years. Hopefully it hadn't been that long. Her smile faded.
Xander's eyes narrowed as he watched her expression change. “So,” he began cheerily, “what's the what?”
“Oh,” Willow gasped. “Um, I kind of need your help.” She bit her lip, uncertain how to start, when she decided to just speak. “I just found out that Ira Rosenberg isn't my father, so I want to go to Washington, to DC, to find my father and talk to him, just to see what he's like, and to let him know he's got a daughter, but I don't think I can do this without you, so I was wondering if you would come with me, but I know you have work, and I don't really want to impose, but I really do want you with me when -”
This time Xander took the hopefully safer option of laying just one finger against his friend's lips. When she was silent, he walked to the phone and dialled a number from memory. “Hey, Frank, it's Xander... Yeah, look, I was just wanting to see if I could get some time off... Yeah. Family thing... Um, two weeks?” he asked, glancing at Willow for confirmation. Eyes wide, she nodded hurriedly. “Yeah, two weeks... Great. I owe you, Frank. I really appreciate it.... Okay, see you then.” With that, Xander hung up and turned back to Willow, smiling. “So we have two weeks to do this. Do we have tickets yet?”
Willow covered her mouth with her hands, and tried to keep the tears from falling. “Oh, Xander. What did I do to deserve you?”
“You're my Willow. That's all you need to do.” Xander led her to the table and sat her down before getting a drink from the fridge for her. “So. Ira Rosenberg is not your father.”~~~~~
Tony looked up when he glimpsed two people enter the bullpen, and saw a couple, early twenties standing in front of him. He eyed the tall, dark-haired male briefly before moving his gaze to the very pretty redhead. He smiled as he stood and extended his hand. “Hi. Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. How can I help you?”
The man smoothly inserted himself between Tony and the redhead, and shook his hand, smirking slightly. “We're looking for Agent Gibbs. Can you point us in the right direction?”
Tony glanced over to Gibbs, who nodded. “I'm Special Agent Gibbs. And you are?”
The man moved closer to Gibbs. “I'm Xander, and this is Willow,” he introduced, quickly looking around. “Uh, is there anywhere we can talk in private?”
“Why do we need a private conversation?” Gibbs asked.
Xander rolled his eyes. “Look, I really don't care if shout it from the rooftops after we've left. Can we just have a little privacy first? Tell you people after you've heard what we have to say.”
Gibbs scowled at the younger man, but Xander didn't seem too impressed, as he just stood there, waiting for Gibbs to give in. Finally, he stood and led the way to the elevator. Once the three were in and the elevator moving, Gibbs hit the stop button, causing the car to shudder to a halt. “Talk,” he instructed curtly.
Xander raised an eyebrow at Gibbs, before looking to Willow. She raised limpid eyes to her best friend, who returned a quizzical gaze with both eyebrows lifted. Willow upped the strength on her look, at which Xander just smiled softly, and turned back to Gibbs. “Okay, then. Well, about twenty-two years ago you had a one-night-stand,” Xander began.
Gibbs looked at Willow, frowning in thought. “Sheila … Myers? Meisner? Murphy?”
“Myers,” Willow answered softly.
Xander cocked his head. “Interesting,” he offered. “Not a common occurrence?”
Gibbs shook his head. “I only cheated on my wife the once. I was a long way from home, drunk, and missing Shannon. I have no excuse for what I did.”
“Well, no. But what's done is done. Is it going to be a problem?”
Gibbs gave Xander a long look. “No,” he replied, hitting the stop button again, then another button.
“So where are we going?”
Xander and Willow followed Gibbs into a lab to the dulcet sounds of what Xander decided was a heavy metal band at full volume. Gibbs seemed comfortable enough in the lab to announce his presence by turning the music right down.
The Goth scientist spun around. “Gibbs! You're here! Why are you here? I don't have any results for you. Of course I don't have any results for you – you don't have a case for me to have any results to give you. And you haven't even brought me a Caff-Pow. Why are you here, Gibbs? Oooh... People,” she cooed.
Xander looked at the floor, trying to control his laughter, while Willow looked around the lab in awe. “Abby,” Gibbs began, “I need you to do a DNA test for me.”
“Sure,” Abby chirped. “But you do remember that these things take time. Brilliant I may be. Miracle worker I am not.”
“Yes, Abs, I know these things take time. Of course, the sooner you start, the sooner you'll have results for me.”
“So,” she grinned. “Who's the victim?”
Willow raised her hand. “Uh, that would be me.”
“She's a little young for you, isn't she, Gibbs?” Abby asked as she pulled out a swab. “God! She's young enough to be your daughter, isn't she? Who am I comparing her DNA to?” she added as she capped the swab.
Gibbs opened his mouth, ready to give a sample. Abby looked up, and her mouth fell open when she realised what she was looking at. “Oh. My. God.”