Spike was glowing.

He was glowing because his wife was glowing. She was holding their son to her breast, as both parents listened to the contented little milk guzzler.

“Takes after you, love,” Spike said.

“Hm,” she sighed. “Cause he’s beautiful?”

“Cause he’s a little pig,” her husband replied. “I’ve seen you after slaying.”

“You know,” she said, “I’m in no position to punch you, but it’s not for lack of thinking it.”

Spike cuddled closer to the pair, taking the baby’s hand and delighting in the feel of the tiny fingers curling around his. “And he’s beautiful.”

“Good save.” She tipped her head to kiss Spike. “Love you.”

“Love ...” A shriek pierced the night. “God! Meredith.” He jumped off the bed and ran downstairs in the direction of the screams.

The little girl was surrounded by shards and pieces of broken glass. Blood dripped down her right hand. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she cried, as her father scooped her into his arms. “I tried to pick it up.”

“What were you doing with a glass?” He asked, as he carried her upstairs to the bathroom, holding the cut on her finger tightly with his hand. “Where’s your sippy cup?”

“I wanted a big girl glass.” She stared at the blood oozing between her father’s fingers. “I’m a big girl.”

“What’s wrong?” Buffy called from the bedroom. The baby started crying, stopping as she replaced her nipple.

“Nothing, luv. Just an accident. Gonna be fine.” Spike turned on the tap and held his daughter’s hand underneath. “You hurt anyplace else?” he asked.

“Just my finger.” She pulled it out from under the tap, and, as her father opened the cupboard door to retrieve the bandaids, popped it in her mouth.

“Stop that.” Spike pulled her hand away from her face.

His sharp tone startled her and tears started fresh. “What’s wrong, Daddy? Mommy does it when she cuts her finger.”

“I don’t want you to.” He sat her on the toilet seat and positioned the bandaid over the cut. “You cut yourself, you hold something on the cut until it stops bleeding. You wash it off. You don’t put the blood in your mouth. You hear me?”

“Yes, Daddy,” said the tiny voice. “Hugs?”

“Hugs.” He held her tight, then carried her towards his room. “You’re supposed to be in bed. But you want to watch Alex have some supper?”

“Yes, please.” Spike lay her on the bed beside her mother, then snuggled up beside her.

“Crisis averted?” her mother asked. “You okay, Honey?”

Meredith held up her finger. “I got an ouchy. Daddy fixed it.”

“Good for Daddy.” She placed her finger at the corner of the baby’s mouth to break the suction, gently pulling him away. Sitting him up with his head supported she gently patted his back. “You want to help me burp your brother?”

Meredith rubbed his back with tiny circles. “Okay.”

“I’ll be good.” Meredith started climbing the short ladder to the bright orange tube.

Buffy arranged Alex’s blankets around him in his stroller, tipping it back as she saw he had fallen asleep. She eased back onto the bench to watch her daughter play, lifting her face towards the sun’s rays.

“He’s a beautiful baby. How old?”

Buffy started at the voice beside her. She hadn’t realized the other woman had joined her. “Thanks. Three weeks.” Buffy’s eyes narrowed with recognition. The woman was tall, with short blonde hair and sunglasses, but she knew the voice. “Sam.”

“Shh. Keep it down. They may be watching. I don't think they know I'm here.” Sam Finn smiled evenly, keeping her voice low. “Pretend you don’t know me.” She said, louder, “A real cutie. What’s his name?”

“Alex.” Buffy tried to let her body relax, but whispered, “What the hell happened? I heard about Riley.”

The other woman pulled a cloth from her purse and began cross stitching. “He’s dead. I killed him.” She took a deep breath. “Please, please, don’t look shocked. If they think you know me, I’ll have to leave. Or they’ll take me. But I want you to know.”

“Where’s Erin?” Buffy jiggled the stroller handle, keeping her eyes on her son.

“Safe. Best you don’t know where.” Samantha’s stitches were even. “He tried to take her away from me. He has contacts, you know, and he tracked me down. He had a gun. I think he was going to kill me anyway. I don’t know. But we struggled, and I got it, and he’s dead.”

Buffy’s hand shook as she kept her hand on the stroller. “That’s horrible.” She pursed her lips. “You got away.”

“Barely. They’re looking for me.” The needle popped in and out of the fabric, pulling the long red thread. “That’s not all of it. The real reason I came. I want to warn you.”

Buffy’s hand stopped. “Warn me?”

“They’re watching you. And Spike. They know what he is, and they’re very interested.”

“They came to the house. I figured.”

“Do not underestimate them. They think of you all as an experiment. The hostile trying to live the normal little human life.” She tucked the needle into the side of the cloth and opened her purse. “They could take it all away in a heartbeat, if they wanted to. Don’t give them a reason to want to.” She shoved the needlework away. “If they ask if I’ve contacted you, be honest. Don’t worry, they won’t find me.” She started to rise. “I’ll die before I let them take Erin.”

“I understand,” Buffy whispered. “I totally understand.”

She watched the other woman for a moment, then turned her head towards the playground. Meredith was on the baby swing, being pushed by a teenaged girl Buffy recognized from the neighbourhood. Her first instinct was to gather up her children and run. She sat until her heart slowed to a more normal rhythm.

She’d have to tell Spike.

When she turned back, Sam was long gone.

It was barely noon when she pushed through her front door, one hand white on the stroller handle, the other too tightly grasping her daughter’s. She wondered what Meredith was thinking about this, how much she knew. She hadn’t protested.

She could feel cold eyes boring into her back all the way home. She knew it was ridiculous. Nothing had changed. If they were out there today, they had been out there yesterday. Still, she couldn’t resist leaving the sleeping baby in the foyer and peeking through the living room curtains.

The neighbours’ dog Mitzy was loose again. No long, black limos. No mysterious men in suits.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?”

She started at her daughter’s voice. Trying to get a grip on her emotions, she sat on the couch and pulled the little girl unto her lap. “Nothing, sweetheart.”

“Was Auntie Sam scary?” The child tilted her head in a look annoying mimicking her father’s. “Why are you scared? She was scared too.”

Buffy took a few long, deep breaths. “I’m fine, honey. Nothing to be frightened about. Just didn’t expect to see Sam.”

“The bad men aren’t outside today.”

Buffy felt her heart leap into her throat. “What bad men?”

“The bad men that watch us. I think they want to hurt Daddy.” She snuggled into her mother’s arms. “Don’t let them, okay?”

“Never.” Buffy pushed against her daughter’s shoulders and looked her square in the eyes. “You’ve seen them? These bad men?”

“Nope. But I know when they come. I don’t like them.”

Buffy wanted to ask more questions, but her son started wailing in his stroller. “I have to get Alex.” She took Meredith by the hand and hurried towards the crying baby. Before she could reach him, Spike was half way down the stairs.

“Bloody caterwauling. Can’t a fellow get some sleep?” He reached down and picked up the screaming infant, holding him to his chest. “Who’s my sad little man then? Did mommy leave you in the hall all alone?” He looked at his wife, frozen in the hallway, clutching her daughter’s hand. “Buffy, what’s wrong? You’re paler than I am.”

“We have to talk. Meredith, go play in your room.”

“Okay.” The little girl headed up the stairs. “We’ll be okay, Mommy. Don’t be scared.” She ran the rest of the way.

“Scared?” Spike handed the baby to Buffy. “Scared of what? What’s going on?”

“Hand me the diaper bag from the back of the stroller. Alex needs a change. And it’s time to nurse him.”

“Buffy.”

“Then we’ll talk.”

Spike watched in silence as his wife suckled the fussing baby. Usually nursing relaxed her, but her nerves were too taut, and the child suffered for it as the milk slowed. Finally, after the second breast, he’d consumed enough to drift off, and she lay him on his blanket on the floor beside the couch.

“Buffy,” Spike said quietly, grasping a hand almost as cold as his, “What the hell happened out there?”

“I don’t know where to start.”

He stared into her eyes, trying to give her strength. “Start at the beginning.”

She nodded, slightly. “At the park. I saw Sam Finn.” With halting words, she told Spike what Sam had said about the government surveillance. The more she said, the more his expression darkened, until finally she told him of Meredith’s awareness of the men outside.

“It’s me. Damn it, it’s me!” Spike sprung from the couch and began pacing the room, like a tiger caught in a cage.

“Spike, no,” Buffy protested, but he wouldn’t listen.

“How could I think? Even presume?” he mutter to himself. “All these years, pretending we were ‘normal’, pretending I was just another man. That I had the right to forget what I was, what I am.”

“Spike, you are a man. A good man.” Buffy stood and tried to place her hand on his arm, but he shook it off.

“I’m not a man. I’m a monster. May have a soul, may do the big play acting, but I’m a vamp, and they know it, and now my family’s gonna suffer for it. My kids, my babies ...” He let out a howl, and his face changed, eyes yellowing, as he punched a hole in the living room wall. “Damn it!!”

“Spike!” Buffy pulled his fist from the wall, as the blood dripped from his knuckles. “Calm down. Please. I need to think.”

He looked at her, looked at his hand. Shocked, his expression softened, and tears filled his eyes. “I have to go. Leave. Let them follow me.”

Without missing a beat, Buffy slapped him across the cheek, hard. “Stop it!! Just stop it!!”

“Buffy.” He collapsed into her arms.

They were both so overcome they hadn’t heard Alex recommence his screaming. They clung to each other, until they felt a little arms surround their legs. “Mommy? Daddy? Don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, baby. So sorry.” Spike scooped Meredith into his arms and hugged her close. Buffy picked up her son, rocking him as he settled.

“We’re going out. I have an idea.” Buffy picked the diaper bag off the back of the stroller and flung it over her shoulder.

Spike looked at her with a glimmer of hope. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She kissed her daughter’s forehead, then her husband’s reddened cheek. “And don’t you ever, ever even mention leaving us again, mister. You hear me?”

He put down his daughter, and grabbed a wad of tissues from the box on the coffee table, pressing it against his knuckles. “I hear you.”

Willow snuggled next to him on the couch. “She’s okay. I mean, I’d do coffee with her. But Drew Barrymore ... look at her.” She pointed towards the TV. “I mean, really.”

“Yeah, she’s good with the boobage.” He squeezed Willow’s shoulder. “But I like my women lean, trim and wiry.”

“You’re just saying that because I have no boobage, per se.”

“Oh, my poor little pancake.” He reached the hand further and cupped her breast. “I love pancakes. Besides, there’s definitely something here.”

She twisted until she was on his lap. “We are never gonna get through this movie, are we?”

He picked up the remote with his free hand and flipped off the television. “I think not.” His lips met hers, and all thoughts of Angels and explosions ended. “I love you,” he whispered, as he came up for air.

“I love you too.” She ran her finger down the his chest, slowly. “So why are we still out here and not,” she gestured towards the bedroom, “in there?”

“That is a very, very good question. I always knew you were the brainy one.” They rose together from the couch, never breaking their embrace. Buried themselves in another deep, passionate kiss.

There was a knock on the door.

“Go away,” Xander yelled, before he resumed the kiss.

The knock was louder. Sharp, urgent raps. “Xander? Is that you? Let us in!”

“That sounds like Buffy.” Willow pushed her lover away and went towards the door. She opened it, to find Buffy and her family, solemn faced. She could swear even Spike seemed afraid. Only baby Alex seemed oblivious to whatever was wrong, sleeping in his father’s arms.

“Oh, God, Buffy, what is it?” Willow stepped aside and ushered them into her apartment.

“Buffy, what happened?” Xander asked. “You all look like you’ve just seen an apocalypse.”

“The bad men are going to hurt daddy.” Meredith ran towards Willow, wrapping herself around her friend. “Auntie Willow, don’t let them hurt us.”

“What bad men, honey?” Willow stroked the child’s head as she looked towards Buffy. “What is she talking about?”

“I’ll explain it in a moment. But I need your help. I need to speak to Giles.”

Spike stood by the door, holding his son, rocking him nervously. What his wife was planning struck him as possibly insane, but she was the Slayer, and he trusted her. He had to. At the back of his mind, he was still considering heading out and leaving them all, as much as it broke his heart to even think it. Xander’s voice brought him out of his ponderings.

“You came over because your phone isn’t working? You don’t want to pay long distance, so you’re going to let Will do it?”

Buffy was not in the mood to joke. “I don’t want to use a phone. I need magic. I need to talk to Giles.”

Uncle Xander held his namesake in his lap, while Spike stared grimly at the women. “Magic has consequences,” he muttered to himself, but, feeling totally inadequate, he let his wife take charge.

Willow sat on the floor, next a clay bowl of smoking sage. “This should work, Buffy. But it’s a big energy drain. Focussing from such a distance. And we don’t even know where Giles is, just that he’s probably in England.”

“I know that. But I have to talk to him, and I can’t have anyone else hearing. I’m at the end of my rope, Will.”

“I know.” The wicca took her friend’s hand. “We’ll make it work.” She stared into the rising smoke, concentrating on Giles face, trying to reach his mind. For a second, she thought she’d connected, but the sensation slipped away. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I ...”

“Let me help.” A tiny pair of hands took hers, as Meredith sat herself in front of her friend. “I’ll help you talk to Uncle Giles.”

Buffy’s face was set. “Could it hurt her?”

“No. She’s not magical, but she’s a strong telepath. I think it could only help.” She gave the little girl’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, honey.”

Together their minds reached out over the ocean. They focussed on a single name. “Giles.”

“What the bloody hell?” A familiar face appeared in the smoke. “Willow? Is that you?”

“It worked!” Willow’s face lit up with satisfaction, until she remembered what they were doing and why. “Giles, it’s Willow. Buffy needs to talk to you.”

“Buffy?” The face looked confused. Even though his mouth didn’t move, his thoughts were reflected into the room.

“Giles. It’s me.” Buffy spoke to the image of her former Watcher. “I need your help. We need your help. We need to get to England.”

“You contacted me mentally to ask me to send you a British Airway’s ticket?”

“This isn’t funny, Giles. We need to get there, probably permanently. Spike, Dawn, Meredith, the baby - all of us. And we can’t fly. You’ll have to help Willow teleport us, or something. And get papers together for us there.”

“Buffy, what in the world is going on ...”

“We’re in danger, Giles,” she answered. “I can’t think of any other way out. We need to start a new life, somewhere out of the country. We just aren’t safe here. I’ll explain more when we see you. Please trust me.”

“Mommy,” a little voice protested, “I’m getting tired.”

“I know, honey. Just a few more minutes.” She looked with concern at the strain on her daughter’s face. “Giles, we have to do this soon. Tomorrow night at the latest. It’s the government, the Initiative, something worse ... I’m not sure. We can’t stay here.”

“Willow and I can communicate without you. It will be easier. But I wish I knew what you were talking about. Is this about Spike?”

Her husband’s back stiffened at the question.

“This is about all of us. We need to get away, but first .... We need to die.”

She gripped the stake, the rough wood pressing welts into her palm. “If I could think of any other way, anything at all ...”

“I know.” He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the side of her head. “We’ll get by. Always do. Not like I’ve never travelled.”

“Yeah. Unlike me, you’ve seen the world. Africa and back again.” For the first time since she made her decision, she let the tears flow. “I can’t let them hurt our babies. If they find out about Merry ...”

“Always wanted to take you home, pet. Won’t be sunny like here, but it has it’s own charms. Meredith and Alex can go to good schools ...”

“Names.” She stopped suddenly. “We’ll need new names. All of us. And it was hard enough naming the kids once.”

“We’ll let them name themselves this time. Well, maybe not Alex. ‘Goo goo’ isn’t something the lad would want to be saddled with, I daresay.” He took her hand and stepped with her to the grave side. “She’d be proud of you.”

“I hope she is.” Buffy ran her hand across her mother’s name. “I love you, mommy. Miss you so much.” She looked up at Spike. “I can’t believe I’ll never come here again.”

“She’s not here. Not really. We both know that.” He knelt with her and embraced her. “She’s in heaven now, looking down at you and loving and protecting you. Never fear.”

“And watching over us. She’s proud of you, too.”

He laughed. “Naw. She’s watching over me all right, with a big ax, saying, ‘Stay away from my daughter.’” He was pleased to hear her laugh. “We’ll be fine.”

She stood up, brushing the grass from her jeans. “We have so much to do. At least they're used to us patrolling. It's a good chance to talk."

He nodded. “Not the first night Auntie Willow had a sleep over. Did you want me to get what she needs?”

“I’m not afraid of a crypt. In fact, I spent some pretty good nights in one, whether I admitted it or not.”

He squeezed her hand. “Not your usual line, though.” For the first time in a long time, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. “Grave robbing, I mean.”

“Spike, you’re smoking.” He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and went to throw it on the ground. “No, I mean, can I have one?” She was still one for surprises. “Not like I never did before. Been years, but...”

“No.” He threw the butt to the ground and stamped it out. “We’ll not give in to the nerves. We’ll do what we have to do and be done with it.”

She smiled half-heartedly, looking at the smoking remnant with not a little regret. “When did you get to be the grown up?”

[Mommy.]

Buffy’s head shot up. “Meredith? What is it? This is too far for you to be doing this.”

“She’s talking to you?” Spike asked.

[I’m fine. Auntie Willow asked me ‘cause she’s really tired. She says she’s almost ready, but it takes stuff out of her preparing she says, and she wants to know if you got the bones.]

“Almost. We’ll be back before sunrise, you tell her. And you should be in bed, young lady.”

[Okay. The men are outside. They didn’t follow you, but they’ll be here when you get back. Auntie Willow says be careful.]

“We will. Go to bed.”

Buffy shook her head to get the faint buzzing out. “We have to hurry.”

Buffy met her eyes with a cold stare. “I don’t see that we have any choice. We’re going tonight.”

Dawn knelt down on the floor in front of her sister, her hand’s grasping Buffy’s. “Sis, you can’t. It would kill me if you left. You know that.”

“You don’t understand.” Her expression softening, Buffy ran her hand down the side of her sister’s head, stroking her hair. “We’re all going, Dawnie. You’re coming with us.”

But Dawn jumped to her feet, pulling away. “You don’t get to decide that. This is my life. I’m not a kid anymore.”

Buffy stood and faced her sister. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re coming.”

“No.” Dawn’s lips were pursed, her eyes stormy. “I have a life here. I have David. I love him.”

Buffy took a step back. “I never ... Dawnie, I know he means a lot to you, but if you don’t come, we may never see each other again. You’re my sister. My God, Dawn, I died for you.”

Tears filled the younger woman’s eyes. “You think I don’t know that? But how could I just leave him, let him think I was dead? After what we went through with mom.” She paused. “After what you went through with Angel.” She was pleading. “Buffy, I can’t.”

“Angel.” Buffy’s face clouded. “He’ll think I’m dead. I can’t tell him.”

“See?” Dawn grasped her by the shoulders. “It’s a crazy idea. You can’t just disappear out of our lives. And the kids. I’ll never see the kids again?” Her fingers dug into Buffy’s skin. “Don’t do this.”

“Then come.”

Dawn spat out the words. “I. Can’t.”

Buffy was crying too. “If we stay, they’ll do something to Spike. Take him again. Experiment. This is the government, Dawn. And if they find out about Merry ... Oh, Dawnie, my little girl.”

“I know.” Dawn’s grip loosened, and she put her arms around her sister, drawing her close. “I know. You have to go, I guess.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I miss you already. All of you.”

“I’ll be in touch with you. Somehow. I can’t lose you either.”

“Just be safe.” Dawn drew back. “Wait. I have something for Meredith.” She ran into the bedroom and came out a few minutes later with a large plastic carrier. “Give her this.”

Buffy looked inside. “Oh, Dawn. Are you sure?”

She nodded. “I want her to have part of me. And she loves him. I bet there’s some law about teleporting pets to England, but tough.” She looked through the wire mesh in the front of the cage. “Bye, Puppy. Look after them.”

She’d been almost ready to go to bed when the telephone rang. She’d given the next door neighbour from Revello Drive her number when she moved out. The old woman was ragile, but insisted in living in her own home. Dawn was always afraid that something would happen to her and she wouldn’t be able to get in touch with Buffy. She was nice. She’d baked them a casserole when their mother died. Mrs. Petersen had been almost
incoherent.

“What happened, Mrs. P.? I don’t understand. Slow down.”

David had come into the living room, running his hand through his hair, wondering who was on the phone, urging his girl to come to bed. But Dawn hadn’t answered. She had only sat on the chair, the phone in her hand, pale as a ghost.

She was even paler now. She stood as close as she could to the smoldering ruins of her family home, David’s arm around her waist, watching the firemen as they put away their hoses. Her heart froze as the first bag was carried out of the house. It was small. Her nephew, or her niece. She couldn’t tell.

A policeman approached her to ask her questions. No, she didn’t live in the neighbourhood. This was her sister’s home. Her sister’s family. She didn’t remember what she said. After what seemed eternity, the officer nodded his head and left her. Maybe he’d asked if she were okay. Maybe he’d offered to get her some coffee. She couldn’t say.

Buffy had plans. She was going to get the family out. They were going to go to England. Start a new, safe life.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

“Honey?” David tried to pull her away, lead her from the horror, but she wouldn’t move. “Please, Dawn. You shouldn’t be watching this.”

The larger bag must be her sister. Of course there would be nothing left of Spike.

If she had planned to go with them, there would be a bag for her, too. Should be. Tears moistened her cheeks.

She saw them, then. Men in black suits, watching the house, arms crossed, expressions grim. These must be Meredith’s bad men. Her face flushed with anger as she looked at them. These were the men that had killed her sister. The kids. Spike. Her hand balled into a fist, and for a moment she imagined herself a Slayer, flying against them, kicking, chopping with a battle axe. Lopping off the big one’s head.

But instead, she stood there, shocked with grief.

“Please, Dawn. We should go.”

She glanced at the men again. For a second, one seemed familiar, but he turned his head and disappeared into the shadows. Trick of the mind. She followed David into the car.

[Auntie Dawn?] The voice whispered in the back of her mind. She must be hallucinating. She wanted to hear that little voice so much. [Auntie Dawn?] It was louder this time. [Don’t worry, Auntie Dawn. It’s okay. We’re okay.]

“Meredith?”

David turned the key in the ignition. “What was that, Sweetheart?”

“Nothing.” Dawn knew. She let the smallest smile escape. She’d talk to Willow tomorrow.

Whatever the plan was, it had worked.

The man, startled, turned to watch her walking away. “Buffy?” he called.

The girl’s pace slowed. She glanced back at the man and shook her head. “Sorry, mister. Got me confused with someone else.” She sucked in a deep breath, the colour draining from her face, as she started to hurry away.

He ran after her. Grabbing her arm, he swung her around. “You’re Meredith, aren’t you?”

“No.” She tried to pull her arm away. “Amanda. Now let me go.”

“I knew you were alive. I just knew it.” His eyes were cold. “I should have known she’d go to England. Giles. She brought you to Giles.” His fingers dug deeper into her forearm. “Where is she? And where’s your father?”

She considered kicking him, screaming, but she gave up. She looked up at him. “Let me go and I’ll tell you.” As his fingers eased, she pulled her arm away. “Uncle Riley.”

They sat in a small cafe, as she sipped on a soft drink. “So, tell me,” he said. “How did you get away?”

“Couldn’t figure it out for yourself? Dad always said you weren’t too bright.”

“You’re pretty sassy.” He sipped at his coffee. “Just like your father. So, someone helped you. Willow?”

“Good guess.” She played with the straw in her glass. “I was just a kid, but I remember. Aunt Willow worked a teleportation spell in Sunnydale, Uncle Giles from here. We started over. New names. New life. Simple really.”

“And the fire?”

“Aunt Willow’s good with fires. Did both spells from the park a block away. She’s a bloody good witch.”

“Language.” He rubbed the scar running across his face as he always did when concentrating. “It was the bodies. They had your DNA. Never could figure that one out.”

“Type of glamour. Mom and Dad collected some bones from some crypt. We each had to give a little prick of blood. Alacazam, we were dead, far as you lot knew. Good thing you didn’t keep testing them too long. Would a’ wore off in a few weeks.” She leaned her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand. “So, your turn. Heard you were dead.
How’d you do it, then?”

Riley smiled. “Sam, you remember, ‘Auntie’ Sam, shot me. Normally, she would have known I was just wounded, but she was upset. Then, when my friends investigated my ‘murder’ she bought it. Made life easier.” He rested his hands, fingers intertwined, on the table top. “Made it easier to get Erin back, finally.”

“Did you know about me, too? Or was it all about Dad for you?”

“What about you?” His eyes narrowed. “You. You’re one of them. You were the one who knew we were watching the house. What a coincidence.” He reached out for her hand, queezing her fingers too tightly. “And what a mistake.”

“Stop it.”

He stood up, pulling her to her feet. “It’ll be easy now, finding them.”

“No.” She stared at him with a white hot anger, watching as he clutched his head in pain. “I know what happened to you. How jealous you are of my father; how twisted you let yourself become. How you threw away a family that loved you. How the government finally cut you lose. I know everything about you.” She let him fall onto his chair. “I know the way your mind tastes, now. I could find you in a crowd of a thousand people. You have no idea how strong I am.”

He looked up at her with a mixture of horror, and admiration.

“You say anything, to anyone, about where you found me. You try to find my family. You do anything that I don’t like, and I,” she smiled as he grimaced with pain again, “I’ll crush your little brain like a papaya.” She tilted her perky head, and her ponytail bobbed up and down. “You do understand, don’t you, Uncle Riley?”

He scowled at her from hooded eyes. “This. Isn’t. Over.”

“Oh, yes. Oh yes, it is.” She picked her schoolbag off the floor and threw it over her shoulder, sauntering out the door.

It was only when she was out on the street that she allowed herself to cry.

Q&A #80

The little girl stared up at her mother as she lathered the icing on the large slab cake. “Will it be ready soon?”

Her mother smiled down at her. “Not until the party. You know that. So just be patient.”

“What’s pay-shent?”

“Wait.” She flicked the top of the cake with the spatula, making little waves of icing. “There. That’s pretty. Now for the letters.” She turned her back to reach into the cupboard for some candy sprinkles, and a little finger dipped into the icing. “Sophia Elizabeth Giles, get your fingers out of that.”

The girl pulled back and popped some of the chocolate confection into her mouth. She stamped her foot. “But it’s my cake.”

“In a way. The cake is for your birthday party, but it’s for everyone to share.” She smoothed the little hole in the icing, then handed the spatula to her daughter. “You can lick this.”

The child smiled broadly. “Who’s coming to my party, Mommy?”

“You know.” She sighed. “Okay. One more time. Nana and Papa, of course.”

“Molly’s sister Wendy says Papa isn’t really my papa. She says Nana is a cougar. What’s a cougar?”

“Wendy should keep her opinions to herself. And Papa is so your papa. He just looks younger than he is.”

“Daddy’s younger than you. He told me.”

“Not much.” She continued the list. “Grandma Anya. Uncle Xander and Auntie Willow.”

“Is Rosemary coming?”

“No, she’s away at school.” She could see her daughter was disappointed. “But I think she sent a prezzie with her mom and dad.” At that the child’s face lit up.

“And Uncle David and Auntie Dawn?”

“Yep. And they’re bringing cousin Henry. Even if he is going through his computer game, rock music, life through a headset phase.” She knelt beside her daughter. “And Molly and her mom, of course. But not Wendy.”

“Mommy? How come Molly’s mom calls you Amanda, and Nana calls you Meredith?”

She wrapped her arms around her daughter and hugged her. “Because Mommy has two names, like Uncle Alex, who is coming too, by the way, and Nana. But now we use our old names. I know it’s confusing.”

The child nodded sagely. “It hurts my head, sometimes. I’ll just call you Mommy.”

“That’s fine with me.” She picked the tube of icing up from the counter and started writing ‘Happy Birthday, Soph...’ on the top of the cake.

“But why do you have so many names?”

Her mother stopped writing. She considered her words carefully. “Because there were some people who wanted to make Mommy do things she didn’t want to. Mommy and other people like her.”

“People who can hear inside your head?”

“That’s right. And we had to hide from those people. But things changed. Laws changed. And now nobody, not even the government, is allowed to hurt us ever again.”

Her daughter flung her arms around her mother’s legs. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I know, sweetie. And I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She ruffled the child’s curly brown hair. “Now, let’s get this cake done before the guests arrive.”

“Mommy, why does Papa sleep all day?”

“You know, my girl?” Meredith picked up the icing bag to finish decorating the cake. “You ask a lot of questions.”