Only Hope

By Gidgetgirl

Chapter Six

Dawn looked at Connor, thinking that he looked absolutely nothing like Angel, for which she was immensely grateful. Not that Angel didn’t have that broody good looks thing down, but that was Buffy’s domain. Connor was hers, at least she thought that he might be. He had been very impressed with the way she had held her cool with the freaky scaly demon. Absolutely no screaming, except for one tiny incident involving some unfortunately gooey and poisonous demon spit. Thoughts of how cute Connor would look with his shirt off pushed the memory out of her mind.

As they approached the hotel, Dawn inched closer to Angel’s son. He looked at her and smiled almost shyly. She was about to return the smile when a small dark haired energy ball hurled itself at Connor, disrupting her daydreams.

“You were gone a long time,” Hopie said in an accusing voice. “Was it a big demon? It looked small when I saw it with Aunt Cordy in the vision thingy. Did you use a crossbow or a glaive or what?” The little girl looked at Connor with stars in her eyes.

“Were you good while I was gone?” Connor asked, looking the little girl in the eye.

“Maybe,” Hopie replied, skirting the question. “Buffy and me sparred. Wanna spar Connor?”

“You and Buffy sparred?” Dawn asked, surprised. Hopie nodded. Dawn had trouble imagining her sister exchanging blows with a four year old. She smiled at the thought, only a little irritated that it had taken her years to talk Buffy into training her and here this little girl was, training within an hour of meeting her.

“Did you win?” Connor asked. Dawn looked at him, surprised. He was serious.

“Nope,” Hopie said. “But I made her fall down once. I’m not used to playing spar. In battle, I have weapons, in spar it’s just me.”

“Did you sing for Lorne?” Connor asked, glad that he hadn’t had to deal with Hopie in a bad mood. Hopie nodded.

“It was much prettier than Aunt Cordy and Uncle Angel and Mr. Giles and Buffy. They sang too.” Connor tried not to laugh. Dawn pictured Angel singing and lost her composure and her irritation at the little girl’s interruption.

While Hopie was interrupting that little interlude, the most unlikely of alliances were forming in the lobby of the Hyperion.

“That dress is to die for, sweetcakes,” Lorne told Anya. She smiled at him.

“Thank you. I bought it, exchanging money for goods in the American ritual of capitalistic exchange.” Anya smiled brightly.

“Tell me about it,” Lorne said. “Clothes can cost a pretty penny.”

“I don’t like pennies,” Anya commented crossly. “They are small and irritating and worth practically nothing. The paper money is much more valuable.”

“Aren’t you adorable when you’re an economaniac?” Lorne asked, laughing. Anya laughed.

“Any chance you’d like to sing a little song for me?” Lorne snuck the question in after lulling Anya into a false sense of money laden security. Anya shook her head. She had too much going on in her mind to let Lorne in on her troubles. Although she had accepted help from her friends, she was still holding to some semblance of independent control over her emotions, and that rather precluded belting out a breakaway pop hit for the Karaoke reader.

Angel and Giles were elbow deep in books, although Angel was avoiding any actual reading in favor of thinking about everything they had learned. Hopie was the essence of Shanshu-Itzca. Hopie was his Shanshu. If the prophesies were to be believed, she would give him his humanity. With humanity, he could have a real family, a real life, a real lover.

Buffy and Cordelia were bonding over a bowl of Chex Mix. “So are you and Spike, you know?” asked Cordelia, not bothering with tact because Buffy wouldn’t expect it from her.

“We were,” Buffy replied. “And I care for him still, and now he has a soul and all, but I don’t know.” Cordelia nodded as if Buffy were actually making sense.

“Hopie’s incredible,” Buffy said, changing the subject before she asked the question she really didn’t want the answer to. “She’s a fighter. I’m going to have a couple of bruises tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia apologized for the child. “We’re trying to teach her to be gentle, but she gets excited when someone strong plays with her. Angel’s gotten the rough side of a couple of games of battle, too.” Cordelia smiled proudly, thinking of Hopie as her own personal miracle. Her essence may have been the last to be copied into Hopie’s, but she was the first to mother the child after she lost her family. She was giving the child what she herself had never had growing up, a family, and that was a miracle in her books.

“You’re great with her,” Buffy conceded. “I’m not sure I could be so patient. Then again, I don’t guess you have much of a choice.” Buffy couldn’t imagine raising a child like Hopie. Talk about high energy parenting.

“Speaking of Hopie, where is she?” Cordy wondered out loud. She had gotten used to keeping track of the child, but she inevitably slipped through her fingers occasionally, what with her leash-needing tendencies and all.

Willow sat on the front steps of the Hyperion with Fred, talking physics with the girl. Moments earlier, they had seen Hopie dart down the front steps, barreling towards the street.

Fred had put out her arms to stop the little girl. “Where are you going, honey?” she had asked.

“Connor’s coming,” Hopie had said, squirming gently. She had to be gentle with Fred, who wasn’t strong like Buffy or Connor. Fred had looked, anxious to see Gunn. She let go of Hopie’s arms.

Sure enough, the demon control group had been heading around the corner. Fred and Hopie had gone to meet them, and Willow had been left sitting alone on the steps. She thought silently about the power the little girl possessed. If anything, the past year had taught her that power of that kind came with a price. The idea that the responsibility sat on the shoulders of a four year old who, though remarkably well behaved for the most part, was still a child prone to temper, scared her. She got up and went to help the others with the research.

Hopie did an imitation of Angel singing for Dawn and Connor, still a little unsure of how much she liked sharing Connor with another girl, but enjoying the attention nonetheless. They laughed. Connor shared a special look with Dawn. Hopie frowned. That wasn’t right. He was her Connor, not Dawn’s. Dawn returned Connor’s gaze over Hopie’s head.

“I’m Shanshu,” Hopie said, wishing for some more attention. Connor looked at the little girl closely. He was familiar with the prophesy. Was it possible that the child would make Angel somehow human? He shook his head at the thought. Angel was a vampire, case closed.

Dawn wasn’t quite as impressed, and the rest of the group had already entered the hotel. “Connor,” Hopie said. “You tore your shirt again. Aunt Cordy’s gonna be mad.” Hopie giggled. Connor looked down at the shirt. Darn, he thought. Cordelia wasn’t much with the demons-tore-my-clothing-excuse, especially the fourth time it was used in one week. “Can’t you kill them before they mess up your clothes?” she always asked. He groaned out loud and went to change, leaving Hopie alone with Dawn as she had known he would.

“Do you want to spar?” Hopie asked Dawn. “Pleeeeease.” She batted her eyelashes. Dawn laughed. The little girl was adorable, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t see her as a threat. She was, after all, only four years old.

“Okay,” Dawn said. “Where do you want to spar?” Hopie grinned, looking like someone had just promised her ice cream. She grabbed Dawn’s hand and dragged her around to the back of the Hyperion excitedly. It was still daylight outside, but the sun was getting ready to set. Hopie stood in her ready stance, smiling wickedly at Dawn. Dawn returned the smile weakly.

“You start, Dawnie,” Hopie instructed, sounding eerily like Buffy. Dawn nodded and, feeling incredibly ridiculous, moved her left hand slowly toward the little girl. She blinked slowly when she realized that Hopie wasn’t standing where she had been standing a moment before. Dawn moved her hand toward the child more quickly, but Hopie again dodged the blow. She was fast, and so small that Dawn was having trouble sparring with her without bending over.

Hopie was getting ready to lash out with her right leg when she heard Aunt Cordy calling her name. “Outside,” Hopie yelled, knowing that Aunt Cordy would be grumpy if she didn’t respond.

“What are you doing?” Cordy called.

“Nothing,” Hopie responded sweetly. Cordelia knew what that meant.

“Hopie,” she said in a warning tone.

“Just sparring with Dawnie,” Hopie yelled back. Instantly, Buffy and Cordelia were in the courtyard with Hopie and Dawn. Buffy looked at Dawn.

“Are you all right?” she asked. Dawn nodded, mystified.

“I’m fine,” she replied laughingly.

“I’m being gentle,” Hopie said in her sweet baby girl voice. Cordelia knew better than to trust that voice. Hopie wouldn’t seriously hurt Dawn, but if she was in enough of a snit about something, she might make things a bit uncomfortable for the older girl. Cordelia was puzzled. Why was Hopie sparring with Dawn? She barely knew the girl.

“I can take care of myself,” Dawn said. “Especially with a four year old little girl.”

Connor entered the courtyard, and Dawn looked at him longingly. Oh, thought Cordy. That explained everything. Hopie was just staking her claim to Connor. Connor smiled at Dawn until he noticed Hopie’s ready stance.

“What are you guys doing?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Hopie replied.

“Sparring,” Dawn replied. Connor’s eyes opened widely.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” he said, shooting Hopie an irritated look.

“I wasn’t going to hurt her or nothing,” Hopie said darkly. Connor narrowed his eyes at her.

“You want to spar, I’ll spar with you,” he said. Hopie looked at him closely to see if he was really irritated with her. She couldn’t tell.

“Okay,” she said. “You might want to back away a little,” she said to Dawn politely. Connor flew at Hopie, and Dawn gasped. He was surely going to hurt the very little girl. Hopie dodged his blows and returned them, punch for punch, kick for kick. The two had been going at it for a full five minutes when Hopie made her first mistake. She lashed out with a high kick, which for her reached the middle of Connor’s stomach. He grabbed her foot. She looked at him with scared little girl eyes, but he knew that she was faking it. His Hopie wasn’t scared of much and certainly not of him.

“While I’ve got your attention,” he said conversationally, “what’s the rule about playing battle with someone weaker than you?”

“Hey!” said Dawn.

“We were playing spar,” Hopie said, squirting the question, “and I wasn’t going to hurt her. Really, I wasn’t.”

Connor stared at her. Hopie sighed a very adult sigh. “I’m not supposed to spar or play battle without telling you first and I have to be nice to people even if they look at you weird.” Connor tried not to laugh at Hopie’s classification of the flirtation he shared with Dawn. He smiled at the little girl, knowing that she would never intentionally hurt someone weaker than herself. She was far too much of a hero for that. He threw her foot backwards over her head, and Hopie tucked neatly into a back flip and landed on her feet. She hurled her small body at Connor and knocked him to the ground, tickling him. She sat on his chest.

“Do you want to play?” she asked Dawn, making nice. “Uncle Angel says Connor squeals like a girl when I tickle his ribs.” She demonstrated, and Connor did indeed squeal like a girl. Dawn laughed and crouched down next to Connor, gently poking him in the side. He laughed. He felt warm to the touch, and Dawn loved the way his hair was slightly mussed from sparring with Hopie.

“He’s my Connor,” Hopie said, “but I can share. Maybe.” Dawn smiled at the little girl, internally wondering just what would have happened if Cordy and Buffy hadn’t intervened in time. The bite sized child was a formidable opponent.

Buffy stared at Hopie, and inwardly groaned when she saw the way that Dawn was staring at Angel’s son. Buffy walked over and picked the little girl up off of Connor’s chest. Hopie snuggled for a moment, laying her head down on Buffy’s chest, yawning. Like little children do, she fell asleep instantly. Buffy felt a little awkward holding the sleeping child and shot a look at Cordelia.

Cordelia’s heart ached watching the slayer hold her child, but she took her cue from Hopie, thinking that if the child could share, so could she. “Don’t look at me,” she said. “You’re the one who picked her up, now you’re stuck with her.” Buffy carried the sleeping child inside and sat down in the lobby, the little girl curling up in her lap. Buffy thought about having children, wondering if they’d be strong like Hopie, or stubborn and good wheedlers. Hopie breathed evenly and quietly, and Buffy felt her own heart strings pulled by the innocence of the sleeping child, no longer a warrior, but a baby who whimpered slightly in her sleep.

Connor looked at Dawn, thinking that she was awfully pretty, very glad that Hopie hadn’t embarrassed her or gotten a little too rough. Inside, Giles was looking at the Niazean scrolls that spoke of Angel’s destiny with the Shanshu.

“Oh dear,” he said. Angel looked at him, startled.

Not too far away, a good looking former Wolfram and Hart employee put his arms around the shoulder of a dark haired girl, escorting her away from the prison that had been her home for the past two years. If Lindsey knew Wolfram and Hart, and he did, when they discovered they couldn’t kidnap the Shanshu without her expressed permission, they would attempt to even the score by adding a little spice to her soul. It would have been a simple thing to deport Faith to another dimension briefly. They knew that the former rogue slayer had a role in the apocalypse, and it was just like them to try and use Hopie’s copy machine to duplicate the former rogue’s essence into the little girl, hoping that weakness that had allowed Faith to be turned would penetrate Hopie’s soul. Lindsey knew that there was only one place that Faith would be safe, and though neither one of them would be exactly welcomed, he made plans to bring her to Angel and to Hopie. For all he knew, the Shanshu child might be Faith’s only hope for redemption as well.

 

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