Only Hope

By Gidgetgirl

Chapter Four

“Breakfast?” Cordelia asked Connor. He looked at her impishly, an endearing look on him and one they’d seen more often in the months since Hopie had become a part of their lives.

“Is that a question?” he asked her. Cordelia shook her head and laughed.

“Not really,” she said, glad that she had Connor to take her mind off of the impending disaster that was the Scooby Gang’s visit to LA. She’d already prepared rooms in the hotel for all of them, not feeling a bit guilty when she put Buffy in the room furthest from the room she was sharing with Angel, and hence furthest from Hopie’s room, and for that matter, Connor’s.

“So what’s this girl like?” Connor asked, taking a bite of the pancakes Cordelia had made. Cordelia looked at him quizzically, thinking that that wasn’t a very Connor-type question. He had after all, used the word girl in the same sentence as a question mark without the words demon or attacked anywhere close by.

“She’s a little high strung,” Cordelia said, “and small, but very powerful.” Somehow Cordelia couldn’t let it go at that. “She’s loyal, and she saved my life about a million times even though she never liked me.”

“And then there’s Willow an’ Xander an’ Giles-who-wears-tweed and Anya and Dawn-who’s-Connor’s-age, right Aunt Cordy?” Hopie had entered the kitchen. Cordelia took a deep breath.

“That’s right, Hopie. And don’t forget Spike. Buffy told Angel that Spike was coming, something about him having a soul now and not being the biggest bast- uh, blood sucking fiend on earth.” Hopie nodded thoughtfully.

“Will they want to play battle?” she asked hopefully, knowing that everyone in the Hyperion except for Connor was tired of playing with her plastic sword and crossbow. Aunt Cordy had given up before the last battle had even started because her nails were drying. Hopie looked longingly toward the foyer where the real weapons were.

“No big kid weapons,” Cordelia said quickly, following the child’s gaze. She gave Cordy a pathetic look, and Cordy amended the statement. “Unless you ask Angel AND me, not just one of us, first.” Hopie nodded, satisfied enough that she didn’t point out that Connor always got to play with the big kid weapons without asking first. She bounced in her chair, and Cordy didn’t even bother to tell her to put her feet on the floor.

“Let’s get you dressed,” she said to Hopie when the child had finished her pancakes. Connor crept quietly out the side door, knowing that Hopie would want to come if he told her he was going for a quick patrol. Something about taking a four year old demon hunting bothered Cordelia and Angel, even though it didn’t really bother Connor. He had been hunting demons at that age, but he had to admit that Hopie was better. Then again, if Wolfram and Hart (via Lilah) was to be believed, Hopie was part slayer, part seer, part vampire-with-a-soul, and part Miracle Child, with none of their individual weaknesses.

At that moment, the little miracle was doing her best Cordelia impression. “A dress today, Aunt Cordy?” she had asked sweetly. Cordy pulled out the white dress Hopie had picked out at their first mall excursion, but she shook her head. The child had refused to wear it every time Cordy had asked. Cordelia sighed, pulling out an adorable yellow dress with daisies and Hopie cocked her head to the side, mimicking Cordelia’s own what-should-I-wear posture. Finally she nodded, and insisted that Cordelia leave so that she could dress herself. Cordelia agreed because she heard the front door to the Hyperion open and a familiar voice yell hello.

“I’ll be back up in five minutes,” Cordy told the little one. Hopie nodded, excited beyond words at the prospect of new playmates. Cordelia raced down the stairs in time to see Angel and Buffy embracing. Of course, she thought, he still loves her. Angel shot Cordelia a look at that instant, the intimate kind of look that shouts I-love-you with sixty-five exclamation points. Buffy saw it and shot Cordelia a small smile of her own. Cordelia understood then, at least as much as she could understand. They still loved each other, always would in a love that was eternal and strong, but the romance, the tension, the thrill, and the deep sense of longing-caring-loving was hers now. Angel was hers now, even if Buffy would always have a part of his heart, a part of his soul.

“Hey Cordelia,” Xander said, and Cordy nodded at him and at Anya, who was standing slightly behind him to the left. Dawn, Buffy’s younger sister of whom Cordelia had fond false memories, ran to give her a hug, and Willow followed suit, surprising Cordelia with the restraint in her step: not timidness, simple restraint of incredible power. Cordy wasn’t too impressed. Unlike when she had left Sunnydale, Cordy was all chosen like too… maybe not THE chosen one, but important none-the-less.

“Hello, Cordelia,” Giles said, sounding very British.

“Hi…” Cordelia was cut off by a little energy ball before she could get his name out of her mouth.

“Giles!” Hopie shrieked. “That’s Giles, right Aunt Cordy?” Cordelia nodded. “You wear tweed,” Hopie informed Giles.

“Why, yes I do,” he said, taking a good look at the cherubic power force in front of him. If she was anywhere near what he thought she might be, she was more important than anyone could possibly have guessed. Cordelia blushed at the tweed reference. Dawn crouched down next to Hopie.

“Hi, I’m Dawn,” she said, already in love with the little girl who would serve as a reminder to everyone that she wasn’t a baby.

“You’re Connor’s age and Buffy’s sister and you used to be a Key and you were always nice to Aunt Cordy and do you want to play with me?” Hopie said, all in one breath. Everyone laughed.

“Goodness,” said Anya, “the very small person talks more than I do.” Everyone looked at Anya. “How do you feel about money?” Anya asked the little girl. Hopie shrugged.

“It’s good?” she said, unsure how to respond. Anya beamed at her, already planning a bedtime story about the glories of capitalism and the evils of small fuzzy bunny rabbits.

“What would you like to play?” Dawn asked Hopie.

“Have you ever played battle?” Everyone looked at the little girl, bemused. They hadn’t seen yet what she could do.

“What have you been teaching this kid, Angel?” Xander asked, resisting the impulse to call him dead boy.

“Uncle Angel doesn’t want me to do real battles,” Hopie said sadly, shooting him baby girl eyes. Angel groaned. Spike laughed.

“Hello, Uncle Angel,” he said sarcastically.

“Does Spike want to play too?” Hopie asked, already taking a shining to the vampire because he had weird colored hair. Spike nodded.

“Sure, half-bit,” he replied. Hopie giggled. Before Spike could so much as lean towards Buffy, the aforementioned half-bit had dragged him and Dawn out of the room in search of battle weapons.

“No big kid weapons,” Angel and Cordelia yelled after her at the same time. They heard a very melodramatic sigh that told them that Hopie had heard.

“Just a crossbow?” she asked, pleadingly.

“No!” shouted back Angel, Cordy, and Buffy, who was a little worried about Spike playing around anything sharp and wooden.

“She’s a very taking little girl,” Giles said, again with the Britishness. Cordy beamed. Secretly, she was glad that Hopie hadn’t given Buffy the time of day, not that Cordelia wanted to keep the girl entirely away from her. “What do you know about her? Buffy filled us in, but why don’t you tell the story one more time, starting with the night you found Hope.”

“Hopie,” Angel and Cordelia corrected at once.

“Unless she’s in trouble,” Angel clarified sheepishly. Everyone nodded. Angel retold the story. Buffy smiled to herself when he got to the part about her having a stake in Hopie. No wonder the kid had such kick ass tendencies, she thought.

“Well,” Giles said, “if I’m not mistaken, your Hopie might be a Cosmolotite.” Everyone looked at Giles. “A person who can embody the essence of another for a short period of time,” he said. “In the middle ages, when the last Cosmolotite incident was recorded, they were used to house demonic powers until the child, or bearer as they called them, could be sold to the highest bidder.”

Angel shook his head. “I don’t know if Hopie has our powers exactly, and Cosmolotites could never house the essence of more than one person. Hopie has slayer tendencies, that much is clear, and Cordelia and I can see ourselves in the child as easily as if she were our own, but how can she possibly be housing all of our essences or even our powers for that matter if we have them now?”

“That’s a good question,” Xander said, sticking his two cents in. “To which I am completely underqualified to give an answer.”

“She likes money,” Anya put in helpfully.

“Buffy,” Willow said. “She’s the reason I was able to bring you back.” Everyone stared at the quiet Wicca. “I didn’t even know it until I saw her, felt you in her, but she’s the reason I could bring you back and I couldn’t bring Tara back. She held your essence, your heart. She has the heart of a slayer, you-slayer, and because she does, my spell worked.”

The wheels in Angel’s head started turning, so quickly he couldn’t keep pace when they heard a shout from the other room.

“Bloody hell!” Spike screamed, alarmed. Everyone ran into the other room, expecting to see the demon of the day. Instead, they saw Spike tied tightly to a chair, Hopie clapping her hands joyously and Dawn laughing beside her.

“Hopie,” Cordelia started, trying not to laugh at the self-declared Big Bad’s helplessness against her baby.

“Dawnie told me to,” Hopie said quickly.

“I did not,” Dawn said. “Well, not exactly anyway.” Dawn sounded a little sheepish. “I just told her about the time when he was tied up in Giles’s bathroom is all, and she wanted to see if she could do it, too.”

“You didn’t say no rope,” Hopie told Angel and Cordelia seriously. They both laughed.

“You bloody gits think this is funny?” Spike growled. “Get me out of here before the half-bit there decides that staking Mr. Spike would be fun.”

“Oh no, Mr. Spike,” said Hopie seriously. “I would never stake you. You feel all good, like Uncle Angel and Aunt Cordy and Lorne and Miss Buffy too!” Buffy raised her eyebrows. Why couldn’t she be just plain Buffy instead of Miss Buffy? Even Aunt Buffy would have been better. Still, she felt a pull at her heart towards the child, who was standing in the same casual battle ready stance she had stood in since she was fifteen. She looked at Dawn and felt awe that twice she had contributed to a miracle, twice created another person. “Besides,” Hopie said, wrinkling her nose. “Vampire dust is yucky, and it gets in my nose and makes me sneeze. Hi Connor!”

Everyone turned to look at Connor who was making be-quiet-before-you-say-too-much motions at Hopie. He stared at all of them, a mysterious and slightly broody look on his face.

“Whoa,” said Xander, “check out Angel Junior.”

“Connor,” Angel, Cordelia, and Connor all corrected.

“My Connor,” Hopie clarified, staking her claim where everyone could hear it. She gave Xander a very pointed look. He nodded.

“Connor,” he conceded. At Hopie’s insistent glare he added, “Your Connor.”

“Hopie, sweetie,” Buffy said, “when is your birthday?” She had a feeling in the put of her stomach. Angel had one as well.

“I’ll be five on May Seventeenth,” Hopie responded proudly. Angel nodded, his suspicion confirmed. Buffy paled visibly. Everyone else was confused.

“What?” asked Cordelia, wanting desperately to catch the drift even while she was imagining some awesome party plans for Hopie’s fifth birthday.

“Exactly five years ago on May Seventeenth,” Angel started.

“I sent Angel to hell,” Buffy finished his sentence softly.

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