Throwback

By Gidgetgirl

Chapter Six

Cordelia let the water drain slowly out of the bathtub. Who would have guessed that Angel had a first rate bathroom hidden away in his basement bedroom? Ever since she and Wes had taken to sleeping in the spare office rooms, she’d been grumbling about the lack of accommodations, but with a bathroom like this, she could get used to things.

Upstairs, she heard a crash.

Liam’s home, she thought. The little boy had a penchant for destruction that absolutely amazed her. He was so full of energy, and most of the time so cheerful, that she could hardly see Angel in him at all.

Sighing, Cordelia pulled on a pair of pajamas and a robe and went upstairs to see what Liam had broken.

When she came into the room, Wes sighed with relief.

“BOOM,” Liam shouted, waving his hands around madly.

Cordelia tried not to giggle, but when Liam smiled Angel’s rare smile, she lost it.

Liam looked up at her, hands on his hips and a grumpy expression on his face. “You shouldn’t laugh,” he told her, brooding. “It’s not supposed to be funny. I’m mean. Grrrrrrr. I’m a fierce warrior. Grrrrrrr.”

Wesley rolled his eyes and shifted the sleeping Faith in his arms. Cordelia smiled softly. Had Angel really ever been this cute little boy?

Seeing he had an audience in Cordelia, Liam lost his brooding expression and began hamming it up. “We were eating, and Wes was a prat, and Faith and I played with the knives, but then we went outside and there were all of these men with ugly faces, way uglier than even Faith’s, and they went Grrrr, and I went Grrrrr, and then we beat them up.” Panting from the sheer number of words that had flown from his mouth, the little boy took a deep breath.

Cordelia turned to look at Wes. “Went grrrr?” she asked him, arching one eyebrow delicately. “As in… you know,” she trailed off and brought her index fingers up to her mouth, posing them as ridiculously large fangs. Liam imitated her motion.

Wes shook his head discretely. He wasn’t sure why Liam hadn’t retained Angel’s powers when Faith had obviously kept her slayer skills. Thinking of the way she’d fought, the fierceness in her eyes and the heartbreaking words she’d uttered, Wesley held the little girl a little tighter. He had a feeling that Faith hadn’t been held much.

Cordelia looked at Wesley holding the sleeping girl, and she grinned. She was willing to bet that within two weeks, the little girl would have him wrapped around her little finger.

Seeing that he was losing his audience, Liam tugged on the bottom of Cordelia’s shirt. “Wesley isn’t your bitch,” he informed Cordelia loftily. Liam screwed his forehead up in concentration. “But he might be Faith’s.” Not even pausing, the little boy went into another long string of words. “Faith had sticks, and she punched them through the chests of the bad men, and they exploded, BOOM, into dust, and one of them hit me and Faith got mad, but I didn’t cry or nothin’, not even when it hurt real bad, and Faith hurt them and then she got herself all hurt too, and Wesley wasn’t a pussy. Not at all.”

Wesley, thankful for the fact the Liam had finally said something positive about him, didn’t bother to correct the boy’s language.

Cordy looked at Faith, concerned despite herself.

“She’s fine,” Wesley said softly, even though he knew in his gut that Faith wasn’t fine, not yet.

“Well, Liam,” Cordy said, yawning, “don’t you think it’s bed time?”

Liam looked at her, the brooding look settling back over his face. “No,” he said, stifling a yawn himself. He narrowed his eyes at Cordelia. “You made me do that,” he accused sleepily.

Cordy rolled her eyes. “Let me get out my yawn-creator,” she said, but the sarcasm was lost on the little boy. “Tell you what,” she whispered, thinking of the sleeping Faith. “Wesley will tell you a story, and then it’s time for bed.”

Wesley looked at her. Leave it to Cordelia to promise Liam that he would do something.

“I’ll put Faith down,” Cordelia said, stepping forward to take the little slayer. Wes reluctantly placed the child gently in Cordelia’s arms. She stirred in her sleep.

“Wes?” Faith asked, her little voice sleepy and a little panicked.

Surprised and touched, Wes leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “It’s all right, little luv,” he said. His voice comforted her. Faith yawned and snuggled into Cordelia’s arms, and the seer carried her to bed.

Liam looked up at Wes. “Tell me a story,” he commanded. “A story about knives and blood and sheep.”

“Sheep?” Wes asked.

“Yes, Not-a-Pussy,” Liam said, his hair falling into his eyes a little bit. “I want a story with sheep. They should be singing sheep with glaives.”

“What did you call me?” Wes asked.

“Not-a-Pussy,” Liam replied.

“Don’t call me that,” Wes said, “and don’t use that language if you want a story.”

“Would you rather I call you Pussy?” Liam asked.

“No,” Wesley admitted, “and it doesn’t sound as if you want a story very much.”

“I’ll be good,” Liam promised, and Wesley set his mind to thinking about a story involving knives, blood, and singing sheep with glaives.

Upstairs, Cordelia tucked Faith into bed, amazed at the innocent expression on the child’s face.

Faith’s eyes fluttered open. “Mama?” Faith asked sleepily.

Cordelia didn’t feel even the least bit compelled to give the child a quippy or sarcastic reply. “No,” she said softly. “Sweetie, it’s Cordy.”

“Didn’t want her anyway,” Faith muttered. “Sticks and stones.”

Cordy smoothed the hair out of the little girl’s face.

“Don’t leave,” Faith said suddenly. Surprised, Cordelia sat on the bed beside her.

“I won’t,” she promised, bewildered at the fact that she meant it.

Faith fell back into sleep with Cordy at her side.

Chapter Seven

Wesley hung up the phone and stepped carefully around Faith, who was currently gouging a hole in the floor with a knife. Where she’d gotten the knife, he didn’t know, and as soon as he could build up the strength, he’d take it away from her, but right now, he had slightly bigger problems. Besides, the child was perfectly capable of handling a knife, as scary as that notion was.

Wes approached Cordelia and cleared his throat. “I found the last ingredient for the reversal spell,” he said.

“That would be of the good,” Cordy said. She paused for a moment. “You have Oh Dear Face. Why do you have Oh Dear Face?”

Wes cleared his throat again. “Because the cantyon grass roots must be fresh to work, and they come in season in cyclical fashion…” Wes trailed off.

Cordy waved her nail file at him. “And in English, that would mean?”

“It won’t be even remotely possible to complete the spell for another six months,” Wes said, wincing in anticipation of Cordelia’s response.

“Well that certainly sucks, Brit Boy,” Cordy said.

“Well that certainly sucks,” a small voice echoed.

Cordy looked down at Liam and smiled despite herself. She was half starting to think she liked him better this way.

“Faith has a knife,” Liam said, cheerfully tattling. “I want a knife too.”

“No knife,” Cordelia said firmly. “Nothing that can be used for stabbing, poking, prodding, branding, shooting, decapitating, or other maimworthy purposes.”

“What’s branding mean?” Liam asked, fascinated, his dark brown hair falling into his baby face.

“You could use a haircut,” Cordy said, tousling his hair. Liam wrinkled his little nose and leaned away from her. He did not like the sound of that.

“We should take them to get haircuts, Wes,” Cordy said. “And some more clothes. If they’re going to be this way for another six months, they need some new clothes. Besides, grown up Angel left us with all of his nice credit cards.”

Liam narrowed his eyes at Cordy suspiciously.

“Wes, get that knife away from her before she impales something,” Cordy said, mentally thinking of putting Liam in Gap Kids clothing and Faith in some kind of stylish mini-Cordy clothing.

Wesley walked over and knelt down next to Faith. “Hand it over, baby girl,” he said, the term of endearment slipping easily off his tongue.

Faith turned to look at him, batted her eyelashes innocently, and grinned. “No,” she said simply, tightening her hold on the knife.

Wesley put some mean in his voice. “Don’t make me take it away from you,” he said.

Little Faith snorted. “As if you could,” she muttered.

Wes held out his hand. “Now, Faith.” Grudgingly, Faith handed him the knife, and pleased that she’d done what he had told her to for once, Wes sat the knife out of her reach and picked her up, swinging her around as he did.

Her little kid laughter filled the room, and for the moment, Wes was very pleased with himself.

An hour later, he wasn’t in such a good mood. Why in the world he had thought taking the children to get haircuts was going to be painless, he didn’t know. As the barber approached Liam with a pair of scissors, the little boy screamed bloody murder.

“Get away from me with those things, you bloody, sodding prat!” Liam screeched, jumping out of the barber chair and balling his hands into little fists.

Cordelia gave Wesley a look. She had one guess as to where Liam had heard those very British sounding curse words. Already, the boy was starting to lose his Irish accent.

The barber gave Wesley a very pained look, and Wes sighed. Walking over to the little boy, he picked him up and sat down in the barber’s chair, Liam wrapped firmly in his arms. Holding the little boy as still as he could, Wes nodded to the barber.

Off to the side, Cordelia snorted with laughter at the sight before her. If Angel retained his memories once he became himself again, he was going to be pretty embarrassed between the streaking and the tantrums.

Finally giving up, Liam sat in Wesley’s lap, his bottom lip jutting out and a brooding expression settling over his face as the barber snipped away at his too-long hair.

Cordy looked down when Faith tugged on her legs, and she was shocked when the little girl held up her arms to be held. Moving on instinct, Cordy picked the little girl up and settled her against her hip.

“You aren’t going to throw a fit when it’s your turn, are you?” Cordy asked her, hoping she’d made a good choice when she’d told Wesley she’d handle Faith if he’d take Liam for haircut duty.

Faith considered the question, a thoughtful expression settling over her four-year-old face. “I don’t know,” the little girl said candidly.

“How about you don’t,” Cordy suggested hopefully. Faith didn’t say a word, and Cordelia had a feeling that wasn’t a good sign.

Five minutes later, Liam had a fairly good haircut, and Wes had several new bruises from holding the little hellion still.

“You look very handsome,” Cordy told him, still holding Faith in her arms.

“Do I look fierce?” Liam asked her, smiling hopefully. Cordelia swallowed a laugh. With his cherub cheeks and dark lashes, the little boy looked about as fierce as a puppy, but she didn’t want to crush his spirits.

“Fiercer than Wes,” she said, shooting the former Watcher a teasing look. Wesley rolled his eyes in an easy motion, but he grinned at her despite himself.

“I look fiercer than Wesley?” Liam asked. “Did you hear that, Faith? I look fiercer than Wes!”

“Your turn, little missy,” the barber told Faith, smiling at her. Faith buried her head in Cordelia’s shoulder.

The barber laughed. “She’s a little doll, that one. Tell her I won’t hurt her. We’ll just give her little locks a trim, and she’ll be done.”

“If he touches me,” Faith whispered in Cordy’s ear. “I’ll kick him where it hurts.”

“No you won’t,” Cordy whispered back. A stubborn expression covered Faith’s face. “Sweetie,” Cordy said, completely forgetting that the child she held was actually Faith, “we just want to cut your hair a little, make it pretty.”

Faith thought it over for a moment. Then she leaned in and whispered in Cordy’s ear. “Will it look like yours?” she asked.

Cordelia looked at Faith’s dark locks. “Maybe,” she whispered back, running her hand over the little girl’s hair softly.

“Okay,” Faith said loudly, “but I still might kick him where it hurts.”

Startled, the barber took a step back.

Ten minutes later, Faith’s hair was evenly trimmed, and the little girl hopped out of the barber’s seat and ran straight into a man with dark hair who looked strangely familiar.

“Who are you?” the little girl asked, putting her hands on her hips and staring up at him boldly.

“Lindsey,” the man replied mildly, trying not to be amused by the pip-squeak spitfire in front of him.

“That’s a stupid name,” Liam informed him, wriggling out of Wesley’s grasp to run over and talk to the man as well.

“What’s your name?” Lindsey asked the little boy, recognizing Wesley and Cordelia as two of Angel’s partners and wondering who the children were.

“Liam,” the child told him proudly, “and this is Fai-”

Wes cut him off. “Faye,” he said, not wanting Lindsey to make the connection between the assassin Wolfram and Hart had sent after Angel and the child in front of him.

Luckily for Wes, Faith didn’t object to the name. She’d been called many names in her life, and most of them hadn’t been quite so G-rated as Faye.

Ignoring Wes, Liam, and Cordelia for a moment, Faith stared up at the man in front of her, and the expression on her face wavered for a moment, as if she were deciding whether or not to speak.

“Are you a good man?” she asked finally, staring up at him, no fear on her face.

“Sometimes,” Lindsey replied mildly, trying to ignore the fact that the child’s question had rocked him to the bones. “Are you a good girl?”

“Never,” Faith replied wickedly. “Just ask Wesley.”

With that, Wes picked Faith up in one arm, and Liam up in another, and he and Cordy quickly walked out the door.

“Wolfram and Hart,” Cordy said, under her breath. “And the suckfest continues.”

“And the suckfest continues,” Liam belted out, well over his brood session.

“I never got to kick anyone where it hurts,” Faith said in complaint, as if she had missed out on some fun.

“Kick this, impale that,” Cordy muttered under her breath, but there was no heat in her voice. She was more or less falling in love with both little ones, and she couldn’t have denied it if she’d wanted to.

Wesley cleared his voice. “I’ve been thinking,” he said.

“That’s never a good thing,” Liam said in a stage whisper to Faith. The little girl giggled.

“The two of us can hardly run Angel Investigations by ourselves and look after the children for the next six months, and if Wolfram and Hart figures out what’s going on…” Wes trailed off.

“So what do we do?” Cordy asked, narrowing her eyes at the two children Wes held. They had their little heads together, and they looked like they were plotting something.

Wes wasn’t happy with the option they had left, but he couldn’t see any way around it. “Sunnydale,” he said.

Cordelia took a deep breath.

From Wesley’s arms, Faith and Liam giggled. They were definitely plotting something.

Chapter Eight

“Are we there yet?” the female voice asked.

Wesley sighed. They’d been over this. “Cordelia, for the last time, we’re still twenty miles away from Sunnydale,” Wes gritted out between his teeth. Traveling with the pretty seer was one thing, but traveling with Cordelia and two four year old tornados intent on destroying anything and everything in their path was something completely different.

“I don’t think we’re there yet,” Liam told Cordy helpfully from the back seat, unbuckling his seat belt and crouching on the seat like he was getting ready to pounce on something.

“Seat belt, Liam,” Wes said from the driver’s seat. He was getting to a point where he could almost anticipate what the children were going to do next.

Liam ignored him. “Are there wenches in Sunnydale?” he asked suddenly, genuinely curious.

“Liam!” Wes scolded, no real bite in his voice as he tried not to smile at the little boy’s cheerful question. He had to remind himself that Liam was from a different world, a different time.

Cordelia looked at Wes. “Wench,” she said slowly. “I’m guessing that’s the nineteenth century Irish version of a skankcapades veteran?”

“Skankcapades,” Liam echoed cheerfully. “What’s a skank?”

“A slut,” Faith said matter of factly.

“Faith,” Cordy said in warning, turning to give the girl a look. Faith was looking out the window, a frown settling over her face for a moment.

“The world is full of sluts,” Faith said. “I’m a slut.” She paused a moment, and her voice changed. The child was clearly imitating someone. “Dirty little slut,” she muttered, looking out the window.

Cordy met Wesley’s eyes, horrified. The more time she spent with the child, the more Cordelia’s heart ached for the little girl, and the harder it was to think harshly of Faith the woman. Cordelia had been ignored as a child, pampered from a safe distance, but nothing like what Faith had been through. What kind of monster told a four year old child that she was a slut?

“Never be clean,” Faith murmured, her voice hard around the edges. “Dirty little slut.”

I guess we all have our scars, Cordelia thought, her stomach lurching at some of her own memories. She shook her head and looked out the window. Faith had too many scars, physical and otherwise.

“Let’s sing,” Cordy suggested, trying to keep herself from getting too reflective. Wes groaned, and she shot him an evil grin. Singing would keep the kiddos entertained, and it would annoy Wes, both of which were high on Cordy’s list of car trip priorities.

“Seat belt, Liam,” Wes barked out, putting a little mean in his voice.

“I know a song,” Liam said quickly, speaking in a very loud voice and liking the way it sounded in Wesley’s small car.

Faith looked at him sideways. “You’re bluffing,” she said, turning a little smile on him. “You don’t know any songs.”

“Do so,” Liam said.

“Do not,” Faith countered smoothly.

“Seat belt,” Wes said. He was getting a headache.

“DO SO!” Liam yelled. Faith grinned at him, and he smiled back at her. There was little the two of them loved to do more than bicker with each other, especially because they knew it gave the adults a headache.

“Prove it,” Faith challenged Liam, letting the ghosts of her past slip out of her mind.

Liam looked around, his eyes darting back and forth. At the moment, he couldn’t remember a single song. Too full of little boy bravado to admit that Faith was right, he puffed out his chest and made up a song of his own.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh,” he sang, rapidly trying to think of words to sing. “Wench, wench, wench, wench.” Cordelia snorted with laughter, and encouraged, Liam started hamming it up. “This is the wench song,” he sang in his little boy voice. “Wench, wench, wench. It’s a song about wenches. And sheep.” Liam continued making up lyrics.

“Sheep?” Wesley asked, forgetting all about Liam’s seat belt for a moment.

“That’s not a real song,” Faith said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her Liam was such a funny boy.

“This is so a real sooooooong,” Liam sang. “About wenches and sheep. Sheep with glaives.” He took a deep breath and then boomed out the end of his song in a half yell, half singing voice. “Sheep with glaives… and WENCHES!”

From the front seat, Cordelia clapped. “It beats Barry Manilow,” she said.

Wesley couldn’t argue with that. Braking as he approached a stop light, Wes turned around, grabbed Liam’s shoulder, and in one smooth move, fixed it so the little boy was sitting on his bottom in the seat.

“Seat belt,” Wes said, his voice low and full of warning and his face very close to Liam’s.

Wide eyed, Liam buckled his seat belt, and when Wes turned around, he began another verse of the Wench/Sheep With Glaives song.

They were only seventeen miles from Sunnydale. With any luck, they’d be there within half an hour.

Wes grinned as he imagined Buffy’s reaction, and more importantly, Giles’ reaction to their small charges.

Wes had come to a sort of truce with the terrible twosome. Somehow, he imagined that the Scoobies wouldn’t have quite so easy a time with it. Little Faith and Liam were more than a handful.

“Sheep with glaives,” Cordelia sang along with Liam, grinning at Wes as the British man flinched.

Just twenty-eight more minutes, Wes told himself. He passed a car and began speeding slightly. The time for slow driving had passed, and Wes was ready for this trip to be over. Nothing was going to slow him down.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Faith said in a tiny voice from the back seat.

“Why didn’t you go at the restaurant?” Wes asked, stepping a little on the accelerator.

“What’s it to you?” Faith asked, squirming in her seat a little. “I have to go now.”

Wes sped up a little more, and with a sigh, he took the first exit he saw.

The sound of sirens made Wes want to impale himself with some incredibly dull object.

Groaning, he pulled over to the side of the road.

“Wes,” Faith said. “I have to go.”

The officer approached the car. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?” he asked.

Wes bit his tongue to keep a sharp retort from spilling out of his mouth.

“Faith has to go to the bathroom,” Liam announced candidly, taking a quick break from his singing.

Faith squirmed as the officer looked at her. She wasn’t going to have an accident. She was a big girl, and only babies had accidents. Dirty girls had accidents.

Look what you did, you dirty little slut. You worthless piece of shit.

Faith squirmed, trying to push the voice out of her memory. She wished that Liam would start singing again. When Liam was singing about wenches and sheep, sometimes the memories left Faith alone.

The officer gave Wes a sympathetic look. “I’ll let you go this time,” he said, “but only because your little girl looks like a sweetheart.”

“I know eight ways to kill someone with my bare hands,” Faith said brightly, but as soon as the man’s words really registered, she couldn’t speak again. The policeman had thought she was Wesley’s little girl.

The officer was silent for a moment and then spoke again.

“She looks like her mother,” the officer said, nodding his head toward Cordelia.

Faith stared at him, forgetting all about just how badly she had to go to the bathroom. He thought she was Cordelia’s daughter. Faith waited for Wes and Cordy to tell him the truth, that she was nobody, just some kid they were taking care of who had to go to the bathroom.

Wes smiled at the police officer. He looked at Cordelia and then at Faith. They both had dark hair, and with the posh little outfit Cordy had dressed Faith in, the two did look as if they could be related. “I suppose she does,” he said softly.

Faith looked at him, surprised. When they drove off, she finally spoke. “Am I really your little girl?” she asked tentatively, her little face fierce with a look of trying not to care.

Wes pulled into a gas station parking lot. “Yes,” he said finally. “You are.”

“Yours too?” Faith asked Cordelia.

Cordelia didn’t think for a moment on Faith the woman. The need in Faith the child’s eyes was so clear. “Yup,” she replied. “Me too, Faith.”

“Me too,” Liam said. “Faith is my girl too, even if I don’t like girls because I can’t kick them even if they are ugly.”

As she ran to the bathroom, her dark pig tails flying behind her, Faith couldn’t help but smile, because for the first time in her life, she was somebody’s girl.

Cordelia followed the little girl into the bathroom, surprised at how natural this all felt so soon.

From in one of the stalls, she heard a tiny voice singing softly.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh… wench, wench, wench….”

Chapter Nine

By the time Wes pulled the car into the driveway, saying that the kids were a little antsy would have been a complete understatement. In the past fifteen minutes, he’d heard eleven different verses of the Wench song, and Faith had added her creative juices and extra-loud singing voice to the mix.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Faith and Liam sang/yelled together.

Wesley put the car into park and noticed that Cordelia was singing under her breath.

“Wench wench wench…” she looked up at him with a defensive smile.

“What?” she asked. “It’s kind of catchy in a twisted ewww kind of way.”

Wes said nothing.

“Are we there yet?” Liam yelled.

Wes unbuckled his seatbelt. “Yes,” he said, suppressing a smile as he imagined the impending meeting, “we are.”

The door to the apartment opened, and Giles walked out of the house. He took one look at the children, habitually cleaned his glasses, and muttered under his breath.

“Oh dear,” he said.

Faith’s sensitive hearing picked up on it. She giggled. “Did you hear that, Liam?” she asked, still bursting with joy at the fact that she was Wes and Cordy and Liam’s girl. “He talks funny, just like Wes. You know what that means?”

Liam nodded. “Pu—” Wes shut them both up with a glare before they could get out the entire word. Both children dissolved into giggles, and, taking them by the hands, Cordy led them toward Giles.

Giles looked at Wesley and then at the children. Faith could feel his eyes on her, and she sensed something about the way he looked at her. Immediately, her guard went up. He looked at her weird, sort of like Momma had, like she was dirty compared to everyone else.

Cordy felt the little girl stiffen beside her and instinctively bent down and swooped her up into her arms. Giles couldn’t have been more shocked if Cordelia had shaved her head and taken up a life as a transvestite monk. The Cordelia Chase he knew wasn’t the type to cuddle a child, and the fact that the little dark haired girl who was eyeing him suspiciously was Faith was completely incomprehensible to him.

“I’m Liam,” Liam said cheerfully, “and you smell kind of funny.” Liam delivered this news with unbreaking candor, the charming smile natural on his baby face.

Liam tugged on Cordelia’s pant leg. “Why does he smell funny?” Liam asked.

Cordy surveyed Giles quickly and then cocked a single eyebrow. “I think he might smell like tweed,” she told the little boy.

“Oh,” Liam said.

Faith grinned down at him. “Ohhhhhhhhh,” she whispered.

“Not again,” Wes said, though he had an incredible urge to laugh.

“Pardon?” Giles said.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh…” both children sang loudly and off key.

“This is the Wench Song,” Liam sang, the lyrics, as always, changing every time. He looked up at Giles. “Do you know the Wench Song?” he asked, disarmingly friendly, the fact that he’d made up the song and Giles could not possibly know it escaping his attention.

“I’m afraid I do not,” Giles said, trying to reconcile the incredibly cheerful and energetic child with the Angel he knew.

“Giles?” a voice said from inside. “Can you make with the bringing-them-into-the-house thing now?”

“Oh,” Giles said, stammering a little, “of course.” With that, he walked back into the house, Liam, Wes, and Cordy following him, Faith still snuggled securely in Cordy’s arms.

As soon as they walked into the room, Liam fixed his eyes on a blonde girl a little smaller than Cordelia. Without giving it a moment’s thought, he walked up to her. “I’m Liam,” he announced. “You’re pretty.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. Some things never changed.

Buffy grinned down at the little boy, but she still couldn’t quite get her head to believe that it was Angel.

“Can I touch your hair?” Angel asked. “I won’t pull it. You aren’t supposed to pull girl’s hair, even if its pretty. You’re a very pretty wench.”

Cordelia just about choked, as a sardonic look entered Buffy’s eyes.

“A wench?” she asked skeptically.

“Cut out the wench-age, Liam,” Cordy said casually. Liam nodded.

“Do you have nail polish?” he asked. “I like nail polish. And glaives. And Care Bears. Wes likes Care Bears, too. He watches them with me, but Faith won’t. She likes Xena better, only Wes and Cordy won’t let her watch it anymore after what happened with the…”

At a look from Wes, Liam stopped talking mid-sentence and just smiled broadly.

Buffy felt her heart melt at the little boy’s round cheeks, large eyes, and almost unreal cheerfulness. This was what Angel had been like as a child?

“Where are we?” Liam asked, not waiting a beat before he changed the subject.

“Sunnydale,” Giles replied, a text book tone coming into his voice as he forgot for a moment that he was talking to a little boy. “La boca del infierno. The mouth of-” Giles stopped speaking as Cordelia shook her head slightly. “Er, the mouth of Heck,” Giles said, amending what he had intended to say.

“The Heckmouth,” Liam inferred.

In Cordy’s arms, Faith stared at Buffy. Buffy had such pretty blonde hair, and Liam liked her already. Faith could tell. Maybe he’d like her better than he liked Faith. Faith shifted in Cordy’s arms, the thought disturbing her more than she would have admitted.

Her momma had always told Faith that she had known Faith was bad the day she was born, because she’d had her daddy’s dark hair and not Momma’s blonde hair, and her daddy had been a bastard and other things Faith wasn’t supposed to say out loud. Her scalp tingled a little in the memory of Momma trying to rip out the dark hair.

Faith had cut it once, hoping it would grow back blonde so that Momma would like her. It hadn’t.

Faith squirmed to get down when Liam mentioned nail polish again.

“Heckmouth,” she whispered, coming to stand beside her.

“HECKMOUTH!” he bellowed amicably, and Faith grinned, slipping her hand through his.

Without meaning to, Buffy narrowed her eyes at the child, because little girl or not, she was still Faith, and Faith wasn’t to be trusted, especially not where Angel was concerned.

Faith forced herself not to shrink back from the older woman’s glare, even though it hurt real bad on the inside.

“Hellmouth,” Faith said darkly, her eyes locked on Buffy’s, never flinching away from the blonde woman’s glare.

“Faith,” Wes said warningly.

“HELLMOUTH!” Liam bellowed.

Buffy laughed and rolled her eyes heavenward. The fact that Angel had been turned into a child wasn’t in itself funny. L.A. needed its champion, but still…

“I want my sodding blood!” a voice yelled from the bathroom.

Immediately, both children were intrigued, and in the way of little kids, they started gravitating toward the bathroom.

“I WANT MY SODDING BLOOD!” they both echoed cheerfully.

Faith grinned at Liam. “Do you want your sodding blood?” she asked. Liam, catching onto the game, nodded, his eyes wide.

“Do you want your sodding blood?” he asked Faith seriously..

“Yup. I’d sure like my sodding blood,” Faith said, dead set on ignoring Buffy and the bad feeling that was developing in her stomach because of the way Buffy had looked at her.

Giles quickly walked passed the children and shut the door to the bathroom, hissing something under his breath at the shower’s chained occupant.

“What’s in there?” Liam asked curiously, at the exact same time that Wesley voiced a similar question.

“Spike,” Giles told Wes.

“Something dead and bad,” Buffy told Liam. “And British and annoying.”

“You say those two things like they go together,” Cordy said, glancing from Wes to Giles, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Faith and Liam beamed wickedly at each other and made a beeline for the bathroom. Something that was dead and bad and British. It couldn’t get much better than that.

“No,” Wes barked, in his firm don’t-argue-with-me voice. Both children slid to an almost immediate stop. They knew that tone.

Giles looked at Wes, impressed.

Faith and Liam turned to glare at Wes.

“We wanna play with the dead thing,” Faith said, batting her eyelashes. Wes was a sucker for the eyelash trick.

“No,” all four of the adults in the room said at once.

“Yes,” Faith argued.

“No,” Wes said in his final answer voice.

Faith leaned over and whispered something in Liam’s ear, and the two of them walked over and sat down next to the wall, arms crossed over their chests and grumpy expressions on their faces.

Buffy looked at them, confused and then turned attention back to Wes and Cordy. “Okay, I give,” she said finally. “What are they doing?”

“Brooding,” Wes answered. “They do that occasionally. Liam’s a natural.”

Buffy looked over, sure enough, a creepily familiar broody expression had settled over his baby features.

“And the effects of the spell can’t be undone for another twenty-one weeks?” Giles asked, breaking the silence that followed.

In low tones, Wes explained the situation, stopping only when he heard distinctly gleeful whispering from the other side of the room, punctuated with giggles.

“What are they doing now?” Buffy asked.

“Now,” Wes said smoothly, “they’re plotting.”

Chapter Ten

“I have an idea,” Liam whispered, his brooding expression giving way to a cheerful smile.

Faith scooted her little body closer to his. “What?” she whispered back. Liam had good ideas. “Does it have something to do with ice cream?”

Both children were big fans of ice cream.

“Yummmm, ice cream,” Liam said, temporarily distracted. Faith poked him in the side.

“What’s your idea?” she asked, rolling her little eyes even though she was still grinning at him. As much as she sometimes pretended not to be, Faith was crazy about her Liam.

“Naptime,” Liam said decisively.

Faith wrinkled her nose. That didn’t sound like a good idea at all. Then she grinned wickedly. “Pretend naptime?” she asked.

Liam, grin still firmly in place, nodded. Without needing to be told the rest of the plan, Faith knew exactly what her friend was thinking about. “We pretend to be asleep,” she said, “and then we play with the dead thing.”

Liam beamed at her. “Yup yup,” he replied joyously. “You’re smart, Faith.” From Liam, it was a rare compliment.

Faith didn’t say anything. She knew she wasn’t smart. She knew she wasn’t pretty. She was nothing. Momma had said so.

Saying nothing, Faith gave a very fake yawn and lied down on the ground. Liam lied down beside her, careful not to touch her, because Liam wasn’t all together sure he liked girls. He wasn’t even that sure that Faith was a girl. She didn’t act like other girls. Liam closed his eyes, and Faith did the same, and the two of them tried desperately not to burst into giggles.

“Plotting time has given way to sleepy time,” Buffy commented, her face softening into an amused smile at the way Liam’s body was curled up into a little ball.

Wes looked over at the kids. He wasn’t fooled for a second. “They aren’t asleep yet. I’d say plotting time has given way to course of action time.”

Cordy grinned. “As far as plans go,” she said, “it’s not that bad. Remember their plan to get the weapons out of the weapons chest? I never want to see that much peanut butter again.”

Giles raised an eyebrow speculatively.

“Peanut butter?” Buffy asked.

Cordy and Wes looked at each other.

“Never mind,” Cordy said quickly.

Not able to resist, Buffy walked over to the children and squatted down to their level. She had an incredible urge to pick Liam up, but as she peered closely at him, she realized that he actually was asleep.

Opening one eye just a little, Faith looked at Liam and realized that he had fallen asleep.

Some plan, she thought. They would have been better off using a plan about ice cream.

Faith shifted on the floor a little, and she found her one open eye looking directly at Buffy.

Buffy felt the child’s gaze, and unwillingly, she ripped herself away from Liam and looked at the little girl with Faith’s dark hair and Faith’s haunted eyes.

“Aren’t you sleepy too?” Buffy asked, trying to make her voice nice and settling for syrupy sweet. Her stomach clenched when she looked at the child and saw the woman, the same way it had when she’d seen Faith in her own body. Faith in any body was still Faith: the rogue slayer she’d failed to save, the woman bent on destruction.

Faith didn’t move visibly, but her body stiffened at the tone in Buffy’s voice. That wasn’t a real happy tone. That was fake happy, and fake happy wasn’t to be trusted. Fake happy was dangerous.

“Come here, Faithie,” Momma said, her voice dangerously pleasant. “I have something for you.”

Two year old Faith walked forward, talking happily to herself.

She had no way of knowing that the ‘something’ was a blow that was going to send her flying across the room.

“Useless little slut,” Momma bit out, her voice still dangerously pleasant. “Stupid.” She spit out the last word in a whisper, but Faith, knocked to the floor, her ears ringing and her eyes filling with tears, heard it loud and clear.

Faith glared at Buffy defiantly. “I’m not sleepy,” she said, mistrusting the slayer’s tone completely.

Buffy sensed the way the child’s body stiffened, and she was reminded of the many times she’d tried to approach Faith, to be there for Faith, only for the girl to turn her away.

Some things never changed.

Recognizing the expression on the slayer’s face and not knowing what exactly it was, Faith closed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. She didn’t have to look at that face if she didn’t want to.

Unconsciously, Liam rolled over in his sleep and snuggled up to Faith. The little girl rested her head on his shoulders, and without the child even knowing that it was happening, three of the fingers on Faith’s right hand had crept into her mouth.

Buffy stood there for a second, watching the two of them huddled together like puppies, perfectly comfortable and perfectly innocent. She felt a pull toward them both from somewhere deep in her gut.

A changed expression on her face, she watched a moment longer, as Faith’s breathing became the regular breathing of a small child, fast asleep, and the rhythmic sound of Faith sucking on her fingers got a little louder.

Buffy stood up and walked back over to the other adults.

“They actually are making with the sleeping over there,” Buffy said. “It’s a regular Snooze Fest ‘99.”

Cordy and Wes shared a quick and private grin. This wasn’t the first time their charges had fallen asleep when they’d meant to do something far less innocent, usually something involving something that was pointy and/or sticky.

Giles sighed and cleaned his glasses. “And you believe that this law firm, this Wolfram and Hart, might have figured out what happened to Angel?”

Wes nodded, thinking of Lindsey.

“What’s the worst they could do?” Buffy asked.

Wes opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted. “If someone doesn’t come in here and give me my sodding blood and turn on Passions, I’ll-”

Giles cut Spike’s voice off dryly. “Complain in a very irritating and childlike fashion?” He said, clearly mocking the vampire, but also obviously weary from similar conversations.

“Spike’s been neutered,” Buffy said, just loudly enough that she knew the vampire would hear her. “He’s like a fuzzy little puppy.”

“In that case, might I suggest a rolled up newspaper?” Wes asked.

“An evil puppy is still evil,” Cordelia said firmly. Then, looking pensive, she continued. “Or is it an evil puppy is still a puppy?” Cordelia trailed off for a moment.

Buffy looked at Cordelia, relieved that, despite all of the changes she’d seen in the woman, some things, at least, had remained the same.

Wesley’s cell phone rang, and he excused himself from the room to answer it.

Cordelia, left alone with Giles and Buffy, without the two children for a buffer, tried her best to make conversation.

“So how’s the slayer thing going for you?” she asked Buffy. “You haven’t died in a while. That’s always a good thing, right?”

When Faith heard Spike yelling, she opened her eyes. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She’d just wanted to get away from the way the slayer was looking at her. She’d almost forgotten that that was the way that people were supposed to look at her.

Careful not to let the adults know she was awake, Faith whispered directly into Liam’s ear. “Wake up, my Liam,” she said, knowing that he’d never remember that she’d called him hers. “It’s time to go play with the dead thing.”

After a few more whispers, Liam opened his eyes, and the two children silently opened the door to the bathroom and crawled into the room.

“It’s about time, you bloody wanker,” Spike muttered when he heard the door open. He twisted in his chains, expecting to see Giles. Instead, he saw two four-year-old children, both of whom were looking at him with slightly sleepy, very interested eyes.

“Wanker,” Liam echoed, testing out the sound. “Wanker-wanker-wanker.”

Faith wrinkled her nose a little. “Is that like a wench?” she asked.

Spike narrowed his eyes. Something about these two was very, very familiar.

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