Part Two

*Acktha Meirah Sancta Leiborum. Sisti eloribum firum cabristi.* "Yachsta Moirah–wha!" Tara jerked bolt upright in bed, panting heavily. She glanced furtively around her new room in the apartment she now shared with Willow. There was nothing mystical in the air, and nothing to see in the darkness. So why was I casting a spell? What kind of spell was that anyway? Tara had never involuntarily cast a spell before. So why now? And who -or what- had made her? Something strange was going on, and she wanted to know what it was. It could be important.

Now incapable of sleep, the blonde witch climbed out of bed, pulled on her long, faded blue robe, and slipped out into the living room where the "library" was. Combined, Willow and Tara had a good sized collection of books. She nearly stumbled over Miss Kitty in the darkness as she moved quietly passed the couch. The kitten gave her robe hem an indignant swipe before stalking over to sit below the shelf where Amy's cage was kept. The former-witch-turned-rat continued to run on her wheel. Tara decided it might be wise to turn on the small reading light by the couch.

Making it to the open kitchen area without further incident, Tara poured herself a glass of Coke and pulled one of her oldest books off the shelf and began flipping through the pages. There must be something here on that spell. It sounded vaguely familiar.

Slowly she flipped through the topics, waiting for something to pop out at her. Dragons. Dream Spells. Drain Unclogging. Enchanted Animals. European Garlic Recipes.....

"Sure," his houseguest replied, opening the cabinet above the counter and pulling out the small bottle of spice. "Though I don't remember oregano as a required ingredient."

"And when was the last time you ate an omelette?" the Brit arched an eyebrow at his friend.

Angel chuckled. "Touche. Are you almost finished?"

"Nearly," Wesley nodded as he sprinkled the herb into the pan. "The orange juice is squeezed, the toast is buttered, there's jam on the  table, and Cordelia should be here any moment with the coffee and blood."

"Remind me again why we let Cordelia get the coffee?" The vampire mused aloud as he leaned against the counter in Wesley's rather small kitchen, in what was a rather small apartment. Angel had moved in with Wesley as soon as Cordelia was well enough to be by herself for the reasons that it would seem improper -or so he said to her- and because living with her would have driven him nuts. Wesley's "flat," as he called it, was full of old books and only had two windows. One in the kitchen and one in the bedroom. So Angel happily camped out on the couch in what served as a both living and dining room.

Wesley laughed. "Because while she can't make it to save her life, she does know where to buy it already made."

As if in response to Wesley's comment, the doorbell buzzed.

"Come in," he called out.

The door creaked open and Cordelia practically flew into the apartment. "Good morning," she sang out, unusually bright and  cheery for nine in the morning. She carried two bags. One read Burke's Butcher: We Chop while you Shop. The other one said simply, Starbucks. "There's nothing like the smell of a Cappuccino and Type-O in the morning."

Angel and Wesley exchanged amused and confused glances. Angel just shrugged and took the Burke's bag from her. "Thanks, Cordelia. You're in a good mood this morning."

The dark-haired women grinned. "This is the "new and improved" me, remember? I'm here to make people feel better."

"That's it, she's poisoned the coffee," Wesley exclaimed as he scraped the last omelette onto the platter. "Once we drink it we'll both die horrible, convulsing deaths, and she'll take every last penny we have."

"Not likely," Angel grinned. "We're so poor we aren't worth the trouble."

"Thanks, guys," Cordelia replied with friendly sarcasm. "I'm trying to be upbeat about our whole situation and you two are making jokes. Here," she pulled a thick newsprint pamphlet out of her purse and tossed it at her employer. "It's a listing of office spaces for rent. And this," she overhanded another one at his head, which he deftly caught. "Is apartments. At least one of you can do something useful this morning."

"Hey, I cooked," Wesley replied indignantly. "That should count for something." He set the omelettes down on the table and took a seat. His colleagues joined him.

"Mmmm, this is good," Cordelia looked a little surprised. "I didn't know you could actually cook."

"Despite popular belief, I am an adequate chef," he replied. "Now, down to business. What are we going to do about getting Angel Investigations up and running again?"

Angel frowned. "The problem isn't just finding a new office. Even if we could get a new place, we don't have the money."

"Money....isn't...everything," Cordelia seemed to be half-forcing out the words. "I mean. We can get other jobs to make the money right? I can act, or get some other part time job. Wesley can do something, and Angel can....organize," she finished lamely.

The fact that the actress-wanna-be was willing to get any kind of other job besides acting and helping people just illustrated to everyone in the room the desperation of their situation. Suddenly the room was very gloomy.

Finally Angel nodded. "You're right. And just because we don't have an office doesn't mean we aren't still in business."

"Wow! Optimism from Mr. Gloom-and-doom!" the most fashionable of the three exclaimed, then looked guilty. "Whoops, sorry. Bad sarcasm. Evil sarcasm."

"It's all right, Cordelia," Angel sighed and stood up from the table, picking up the two books as he did. "I'll start looking for space. Wesley, I want you to see if we can get a small loan so we can start paying this off. Cordelia,"

"Yes?" she looked up expectantly.

A small smile twitched on Angel's lips. "Don't you have an audition this afternoon?"

She nodded. "Actually, I do. They're holding auditions for models for this really big fashion show."

"A modeling job?" Wesley looked curious. "Not your usual type of work."

"Oh, I know," Cordelia flashed him a smile. "But it's a good way to get seen, and these are some of the biggest names in fashion. Besides," she looked especially pleased, "it'll be fun toget to wear clothes I'll never be able to afford again. And it doesn't require any real acting ability."

"Are you sure?" Angel asked. Cordelia was always fairly blind when it came to her own acting ability.

She smiled, a little abashed. "Well, I haven't exactly been pulling in starring roles on the stage."

Neither of the men could argue with her.

"Umm, well...let's get going then," Wesley broke the silence. "I'll clear the table."

"All right," Angel nodded. "See you tonight."

Buffy shrugged. "My weapons. And I hate all this "take it easy" crap. How am I supposed to be the Slayer if I'm not allowed to do anything gymnastic."

"What else did your OB-GYN say?" her friend asked as they went inside and up the stairs to the apartment. Buffy's second pre-natal appointment had been that morning, and it hadn't made her feel particularly perky.

"Just about what you'd expect," the Slayer replied. Her voice took on a sarcastic lecturing tone. "I shouldn't eat junk food, or do anything athletic that's too bouncy or might crunch the womb. How I especially needed to take it easy since I'd been beaten up so early on in the pregnancy. She went on and on for hours!"

"That's her job," Willow said calmly, setting the box down on what was now Buffy's bed in the back right room. Her's was the back left, and Tara's was the front left.  "Besides, you were pretty badly hurt. And you didn't heal as fast as usual. You're lucky you didn't lose the baby."

"I know," the blonde sighed. "And Giles thinks it was my condition that slowed down my healing powers. But things aren't going to get any easier anytime soon."

"True," Willow nodded. "At least you've got us and your mom to help out."

Buffy shifted her weight uneasily. "Actually, Mom doesn't know yet."

"What?" the red-head stared at her best friend. "Buffy, you're already two months pregnant. You've known for a month and you haven't told your mother?!"

"No I haven't," the Slayer snapped. "We're going out to dinner tonight. I thought I'd tell her then."

"Okay. I can see why you'd want to put it off. I don't think I could  tell my mother something like that," Willow cringed. "Mine doesn't  know about Tara."

Buffy gave her a sympathetic smile. "Well, this looks like everything. What time are we supposed to be at Giles'?"

"Four o'clock."

The blonde glanced at her watch. "Great, we have time for lunch. I'm starving!"

Willow chuckled. "Sure. But you hadn't finished telling me about sonograms."

"I don't know how you can find this stuff fascinating," Buffy wailed. "But I'll tell you while we eat."

"Okay," the witch agreed with a laugh. "Now what was it like?" she asked as she grabbed her wallet off the end table.

Buffy sighed and shook her head as they left the apartment. "Slimy, cold, and it tickled. If I'd known how annoying it is to have strange people running their hands all over your stomach coated in cold goop I never would have slept with Riley. "

"What is it this time?" Anya sighed.

Giles ignored her bored tone of voice. He was used to it by now. "Our friend the Vei-rogk demon wasn't alone."

Willow looked concerned. "We didn't sense any others. Not even a little ity-bitty one."

"I know," the former librarian rubbed his eyes as he spoke. "But I've been reading in the book where we first found mention of them, and I've found a passage that I believe warrants great concern."

"Well, what does it say?" Buffy asked.

Giles opened the book and flipped to the appropriate page. "It says here that Vei-rogk demons never live singly. They always live in groups of at least twelve, and one is only found alone if it is scouting out new nesting and hunting grounds for his clan."

"Which means we can expect more," the Slayer sighed. "Is there any other useful information in that book?"

"Not much," the Brit shook his head. "Only that they often enlist the aid of less intelligent demons and vampires by offering their protection and a share of their prey."

"Which we definitely found out already," Xander spoke up with a grimace. He remembered all too well their nearly disastrous raid on the first demon's lair.

"So what do we do?" Riley asked, voicing the obvious.

"Well," Giles continued. "We need to find a way to track the movements of the Vei-rogk. It is essential that we know when they enter the area. We also need to find out more information on them. There must be a way to stop them besides risking our lives trying to close on one of them while hoping a spell is ready at the same time."

"I can handle any demons that come along," Buffy cut in.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," her former watcher shook his head. "But I'm afraid I can't let you do that. It would be putting both you and your child at risk."

The blonde Slayer sighed. "I know, I know," she groaned impatiently. "Maybe we'll get lucky and they won't show up in the next seven months."

"Don't count on it," Xander quipped. "So how do we track them?"

"That's the difficult question right now," Giles stood and went to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of tea. "We know that they can detect magic that is tracking them. It was pure luck that this one didn't detect Willow and Tara's tracking spell. I'm not sure what we can do."

"Umm, I have an idea," Tara spoke up timidly.

"Well by all means let's hear it," the Brit looked intrigued.

"I know that they can detect magic aimed at them," the dark-blonde witch looked around earnestly. "But I don't think they would detect a tracking spell that wasn't following them."

"And how would that help us?" Riley asked. "I don't see what that has to do with finding these things."

Buffy glared at her boyfriend. "Shut up and let her finish."

Tara continued. "As Mr. Giles just read, the Vei-rogk often enlist other demons who are physically stronger than they are. The demons Xander, Riley, and Buffy saw in the first one's lair are all ones we've seen before. And we know those can be tracked magically."

"So we could find them by looking for a large mixed group of usually independent demon groups!" Willow bounced excitedly on the couch where she sat next to her girlfriend. "That's a great idea!"

"Yes," Giles nodded, smiling. "I think that just might work. Can you modify a tracking spell to look for such a group?"

Tara blushed. "I finished it last night."

"Wonderful," the older man said, clearly pleased.

"Wait a minute," Xander cut him off from saying more. He looked at Tara. "I thought you didn't know a lot about demons and stuff. How come you're the expert all of a sudden?"

Tara's face turned an even brighter red. "I've just been studying Mr. Giles' books."

"Something the rest of you should do more often, I might add," said the Brit. "Now back to business. We still have the task of dividing up patrolling duties for the next few months."

Buffy frowned. "I'm perfectly capable of patrolling, Giles. It's not like it requires much in the way of effort. Most of the time all I do is end up walking the cemetery for a few hours."

"Now, Buffy," his voice took on it's watcher-lecturing-Slayer tone. It was one she hadn't heard in over a year. "Until the Vei-rogk are dealt with we cannot risk the life of a Slayer. Not to mention your offspring. I haven't seen anything in the Chronicles about a Slayer ever having children. This is entirely unprecedented, and until we know more it just isn't acceptable."

"Fine," the Slayer threw her hands in the air. "You win. But I'm still in charge of this thing here so I have some say in how things are run." Giles just nodded. Buffy's friends wisely remained silent. "Good. I want three teams. No one goes out alone. And I want at least one person capable of performing the protecting spell in each group. Does that makes sense so far?"

The others nodded, and Tara spoke. "I can teach it tonight. It won't take very long."

The Slayer continued. "Then the groups are as follows: Tara and Xander, Willow and Riley, and Giles and Anya."  The new teams glanced at each other, but no one made comment. "Willow and Giles will learn the spell first. I want all of us to learn it if possible. The other three should work on combat. These guys aren't very strong, so staking them shouldn't be a problem. It's their goons I'm worried about."

When she said nothing more, Giles retook control of the meeting. "Now then, I want to hear more about this altered tracking spell, and we should get started on learning the protection spell. So if you can please stay Tara, and Willow. I think that's everything."

As the meeting broke up, Riley slipped through people to Buffy's side. "Hey, gorgeous. Want me to walk you home?"

The blonde shook her head. "Thanks, but I'm going to my Mom's, remember? We're going out to dinner."

"Oh," the former army soldier was clearly disappointed. "All right. See you tomorrow?"

Buffy smiled as he kissed her briefly. "Of course. Good night," she said before opening the door and heading out into the late afternoon sun.

She turned at the sound of feet on the stairs. Her mother came down in jeans and a pretty, simple green sweater top. The restaurant they had chosen wasn't particularly fancy, and it had been one of their favorites when Buffy was younger. Her mother smiled. "You look nice tonight," she said to her daughter.

Buffy smiled. "So do you, Mom. Is that a new top?"

Joyce nodded, clearly pleased. "It is actually. I felt like trying something new."

"Well it's great," the Slayer said, getting off the couch. "Let's go."

The mother and daughter didn't talk much on the way to Little Ricco's Italian Restaurant. Buffy felt a little guilty for having only talked to her mother once since the accident, and it was clear she had worried. The college student didn't look forward to springing another shock on her. It was only a ten minute drive, and they parked, went inside, and got a table. Once drinks and food were ordered, an uneasy silence fell over the Summers' table.

"So," her mother began. "How have you been since...you know?"

"Good," Buffy replied. "I mean I'm fine. Haven't hurt in weeks."

"Well, that's good," Joyce said. "And how is Riley?"

You would pick that question to ask, mom. "He's good. He has a  summer job teaching camping survival at the summer camp just outside  of town during the day." Her mom would know soon enough what he was doing at night. Or rather, what he had been doing on nights previous.

"So you don't get to spend much time with him then?" her mother asked, obviously wanting more information on her daughter's life.

Buffy shook her head. "Not as much as I did during school." Which is true in more than one way. "But I still see him after work."

"That's nice," the older woman smiled. "So what are you going to be taking this coming semester, dear?"

The Slayer relaxed as her mother's questioning veered off the track of males. And things we do with them, Buffy thought to herself. "I'm taking a drawing class, and one on Ancient Civilizations, college algebra because everyone has to take it, and Giles convinced me it would be useful to take Latin."

Mrs. Summers blanked for a moment, then chuckled. "Only in your profession would it be useful to take what's considered a dead language." She must have seen the stunned look on her daughter's face, because she continued. "I know I wasn't very supportive when I first found out you were the Slayer, Buffy. I was frightened, and I didn't understand. But I think I've gotten used to it now."

Buffy smiled. "I'm glad, Mom. So, tell me what you've been up to at the Gallery."

The Slayer happily listened to her mother talk about the goings on at the art gallery; the new people, the one's who had left, the new  works  they were getting in. Joyce talked until their paglia e fieno and lasagna arrived, and continued until they were almost done eating.  Finally she paused. "I've been talking all night. It's your turn. How are your friends?"

Buffy finished a bite of paglia e fieno before answering. "Everyone's great. Xander's still got his job with the ice cream company. Willow's been working part time at the used book store. And Giles is, well, Giles," she shrugged, at a loss for a better description.

"No more major demons then?"

"Nope," she shook her head emphatically. "Not a one. It's been a very quiet summer."

"That's always nice to hear," Joyce looked relieved. "Well, shall we have some dessert?"

"Of course," the Slayer grinned. "What would dinner at Ricco's be without Tiramisu?"

Her mother just laughed and called the waiter over to order dessert, which came quickly. She watched Buffy with great interest. It made the Slayer nervous. Finally she had to speak, "What is it?"

Joyce flushed. "Oh, sorry. It's just...are you getting enough to eat? You seem famished."

"Oh," Buffy swallowed. This is it. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

She's just going to keep pushing, Buffy's mind told her. She sighed, and gave in. "Actually, Mom. There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"I thought so," Mrs. Summers nodded. "You had that look on your face, and you've been acting...different all night. Call it mother's instincts."

Buffy couldn't help but smile a little. I hope I have them. "I'm  not really sure how to say this, Mom, but....well...." I can't  believe I'm waffling. What happened to the old Slayer confidence?

"Oh no!" her mother exclaimed before Buffy could say another word.

"What?!" Damn...I'm dead!

"Riley broke up with you didn't he?" Joyce looked extremely concerned and sympathetic.

Buffy wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream. "No, Mom. It's nothing  like that."

"Oh, what a relief," the older woman sighed. "What is it honey?"

"I'm....pregnant." Her voice sounded small, even to Buffy.

She hadn't realized her mother's jaw could drop that low. It was even lower than when she'd found out what a Slayer did.

"Mom?"

The dam broke.

This morning Buffy had the apartment to herself while Willow was at work and Tara was at the local library doing research on some project. It was a typical, sunny California morning, and she didn't have anything urgent to do, so the blonde was lounging on the couch, magazine and snack in hand. It was the first time she had really been alone in weeks, and she was extremely grateful for the opportunity.

Ding Dong.

Damn! Who could that be? Buffy sighed. "Who is it?" she called out.

"It's me, Riley," came the muffled voice behind the door.

At eleven in the morning? Buffy wondered to herself. Shouldn't he be teaching campers? "Come in," she said reluctantly. So much for a morning to myself.

Riley opened the door and Buffy stared at the balancing act in front of her. He must have been carrying at least ten books, and a large paper bag. He grinned when he saw her stunned expression. "Just a little homework," he smiled. "The final exam's only seven months away after all."

The Slayer moaned under her breath. Like she needed reminding. "Riley, I thought you had work today."

The tall blond set the stack of books down on the coffee table in front of the couch and leaned over, kissing her fully on the lips. Buffy couldn't help but smile a little. "The campers don't have regular activities today. They went on a hiking trip. So I got the day off and thought I'd spend it with you."

"Reading whatever these books are," the blonde girl picked up the first book on top of the pile. Bradley vs Lamaze, what's this about  anyway? Wrestling? She picked up another one, called `Surviving your Toddler.'

Riley laughed. "Well I know I don't know that much about this whole parenting thing. I figured we could learn about it together."

But why today? her mind wailed. My one morning of quiet! "Okay. Where do we start?"

Riley pulled one book out of the middle of the stack and handed it to her. `Expecting your First Child.' Buffy opened it and read the cover flap. The author was a mother of eight. Probably doesn't even remember what it was like the first time, the Slayer growled silently. But she just forced herself to smile and said "Thank you, Riley. I'm sure these will be a lot of help."

The smile on the muscular man's face widened with pleasure. "And that's not all. I brought lunch."

Buffy brightened a little at the concept of food. It disgusted her how hungry she was all the time now, but she'd been assured that it was natural and she should eat if she was hungry. "What is it?" she asked.

Riley opened the bag and pulled out the "feast." Buffy's happy mood dropped. Salad. It was salad. Or rather, lettuce and bean sprouts. And low-cal low-fat ranch dressing. And apple juice.

"Thanks," was all she said, though she felt like screaming. This was not her idea of sustenance. "Riley, I'm really not up for this right now. Is there any chance we could do this later?"

"Depends on how much later," he chuckled. "We can't put this off forever."

"Riley, I'm really not in the mood for this," Buffy glared at him. "Mom wasn't too happy with me last night, and I'd just like to be alone."

Riley's smile faded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be obnoxious. Are you sure you're okay? What did your mother say to you?"

"It's not important right now, okay? Just leave, please." Now that my peace of mind is nonexistent. She just didn't want to deal with all of it right now. It was overwhelming.

"Okay," said her rather stunned boyfriend. "But call if you need me. I love you."

Buffy sighed. "I know, and I will."

Riley stood there awkwardly for a moment, nodded once, and then left looking extremely dejected.

Buffy felt guilty for making him feel bad. I could have been nicer. What's wrong with me lately? With a shrug she decided to put it out of her mind for now and return to her magazine.

The "lunch" remained uneaten.

Go to Part Three