Jonah walked through the park, pushing the cart that held every one of his belongings silently through the night as he searched for a trash can he hadn’t gone through once already. He had to get to them before the garbage collectors came in the morning and took away his only source of income now.

A humorless snort passed through his nose as he thought back to a time when he would pass men on the street like himself, stick up his nose at them, and hurry off to whatever business meeting he was surely late for. He never had time to bother with them, or enough human compassion to take pity on one of them and drop a few dollars into their hands. The only time he ever bothered with them would be when they were standing too close to his car or would get up in his face to beg for his change, and then they were just met with annoyance. Funny how just a few years, a down-sizing, a divorce, and some not-so-pleasant brushes with the law, and he ended up just like them. Karma really could be a bitch.

After picking through one of the trash cans and finding nothing of use to him, he sat down on the park bench next to it, stared up at the dim street light overhead, and sighed. This really wasn’t how he pictured his life would turn out. He didn’t spend years and years working to end up living in a park. But fate could be cruel sometimes, and the streets that he now called home even crueler.

One learned fast the type of people to avoid, especially those of the nocturnal and demonic kind. Jonah could still remember the first time one of his new ‘friends’ had warned him that a cross and some Holy Water from one of the Catholic churches were just as important as a warm blanket and knowing what streets were good or bad. He had laughed in that man’s face for believing in such superstitious nonsense. And then Jonah was attacked by his very first vampire. The one time businessman had gotten away thanks to the man who had warned him in the first place, but he still had the scar on his neck to remind him to never forget his cross or some Holy Water or the crude stake he had made out of a board from an old moving create.

The man’s ears perked up when he heard the sound of someone running coming towards him and he quickly scrambled for a place to hide. If it was the cops, they would probably have him arrested or, at the very least, tell him to get out. But usually the cops were on the other side of the park this time of night, so the only other people Jonah could think of would be either a) a drug dealer, b) some gang member, or c) the guys with the really sharp, pointed teeth. Any which way it went, Jonah didn’t like it.

The man went around behind the bench and crouched down low to the ground to where he was peering through the small spaces between the boards. As one his hands steadied him by holding onto the bench, the other rested near his trench coat pocket that held both the cross and a small switch blade he had found a couple of years ago. Of course, his main defense was to high tail it out of there as fast as his legs could carry him, but these were his backups.

Jonah watched as an African-American man rounded the corner and came into the light that shown from overhead. He took a few steps into the light, turned to look behind him, and fell into a fighting stance as if he expected to be attacked at any moment from anywhere. To Jonah, he looked rather ridiculous standing there, his fist raised as his baggy clothes hung loose on his thin body, waiting for whoever had been after him to pounce. Repressing a sigh, Jonah moved his hand away from his pocket to hold onto the bench better. Really, why couldn’t these stupid gang members find better ways of torturing their enemies than by chasing them down in the park to beat the-?

A childish giggle filled the air, drawing Jonah’s attention away from the man that stood before him. It was a strange sound, not one that someone would expect to hear this time of night at this place. And there was something else to it. Something the middle-aged man couldn’t place his finger on. Something that made it almost sound…like whoever was laughing was having fun.

The wannabe gang member heard it too, and growled at the sound as he began to scan the shadowy area around them. On the other side of the brush, the lake sparked with the reflection of the buildings that towered around the park. A small wind blew up some paper and dust that had been resting quietly on the walkway the man stood on. And Jonah suddenly became very aware that his heartbeat was pounding in his ears as he picked up the mood that this definitely wasn’t right.

The man suddenly pivoted on his feet towards Jonah’s cart that had gone unnoticed until then; his once normal looking face now rigid, lumpy, and baring a set of burning yellow eyes. Jonah turned the best he could to see what had the vampire’s attention and was surprised to find a young boy standing beside his cart, causally leaning up against it with his arms crossed. The kid couldn’t have been over ten, maybe eleven, but was showing no fear whatsoever of the creature of the night before him. In fact, the boy seemed almost bored with him.

The vamp growled at the kid and bent down low to the ground, like he was about to pounce. The kid, however, didn’t blink.

“Not the one that you should be worried about,” the boy said, nudging his chin towards the vamp’s direction.

Both Jonah and the creature turned to see what the kid had meant, and found a small girl standing directly behind the vampire. She was even younger than the boy, with long, curly blond hair that was pulled back into a pony tail. She held her arms behind her, like children often do when meeting someone new, and a large, childish smile rested on her face.

“Hi,” the girl said in bubbly tone. “I’m Dylan. Wanna play?”

In a second, the vamp seemed to fly off the ground and go after the child.

Jonah didn’t know what it was that made him yell for the girl. Maybe it was the fact this was a small child that should be defenseless in such a situation, and he was a grown-up and felt the need to protect her. Or maybe it was the fact that she kind of reminded him of his niece from way back when he was still part of society. Or maybe it was the fact that he was a complete idiot who didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. Whatever it was, he surely didn’t expect to see what he did.

The small girl, who was as calm as the boy who was still watching quietly, stood there until the vampire was right upon her. Then, with a quickness Jonah had never seen before, she spun on the ball of her foot so the vamp was right where her body had been, but she was now beside him as he leaned forward. She then stuck out her foot as the vampire stumbled from missing his mark and sent him to the ground hard. When his body hit the pavement, her arms swung out from behind her to reveal the stake she had hidden there, and she sent it crashing down into the vampire’s back. His whole body jerked upwards for a second as he yelped in surprised then turned to dust.

The whole thing had last less than ten seconds, and Jonah was left standing behind the park bench gapping at the girl. She tucked the stake away and then brushed her hands together like they were dirty, as the young boy began to walk towards her.

“Oh, that was cute,” he said, keeping his arms crossed, but smiling at the same time. He then raised an eyebrow and repeated, “‘Wanna play?’”

Dylan shrugged slightly. “You know me. Besides, not all of us can be ‘kill vampire, kill vampire, make no sound for three days, kill vampire.’”

“What can I say? I’m a simple man,” the boy answered, sounding half serious and half joking at the same time. His tone then turned completely serious. “Just don’t let Grandfather catch you doing that. You know how he feels about us speaking to them.”

The girl’s good mood deflated the instant he mentioned the man. “Yeah, I know,” she responded solemnly. They then turned and began to walk away.

Jonah stood there, continuing to gaze at the children until they disappeared around the corner and left him behind in the light. When they were out of sight, the one time businessman looked at the spot the vampire had been, back up to where the kids had gone, and then to where the vamp had been. The guys were never going to believe this.

**********

Lindsey gave a dry laugh as she began to stir her cup of tea once more. “Everything? You do realize that is a lot of ground to cover. Don’t you, Ms. Summers?”

“We’ve got the time,” Buffy answered. A thought crossed her mind so she clarified, “The boy. Who is he?”

“I think the better question would be ‘what’,” Lindsey corrected with a sigh, taking the red stick out of the cup once more before bringing the drink to her lips.

“He’s like Dylan. Isn’t he?” Spike spoke up, keeping his eyes on the woman that sat just to the right of him. “A damphyr?”

The secretary raised an eyebrow at him, a small smirk playing on her lips to let him know he was right. Blinking from the information, Buffy began to stutter out, “What? How? When? Who?”

Lindsey laughed softly at her before saying, “His name is Sebastian and he’s ten.” Her face fell after that, and she became interested in staring at her coffee once more. “He’s the first.”

The three stared at the woman, listening carefully to what she had to say about the young boy. With a sigh, Lindsey continued.

“It started a little over ten years ago,” she looked up at Buffy and stated, “right after you arrived in Sunnydale. I do not know if Mr. Giles ever told you about his training, but, when a Watcher is nearing completion of his schooling, he must spend a certain amount of time in the archives translating ancient text from several different languages, both human and demonic.”

Buffy glanced over to Giles, who had a strange look that was a cross between fondness and gratitude that that was over with. “Yes,” he added. “I do remember that. Tediously boring work.”

“If Rupes is bored, we can imagine,” Spike added, earning a glare from Giles.

“Yes, well, the texts that they are given are not meant to have anything important on them. They are mostly scrolls that have been translated a thousand times before, but it is supposed to give them practice for later on.”

“Those bloody things had already been translated?!” Giles exclaimed, horrified by the information.

Ignoring him, and the twin smiles that rested on the slayer and vampire’s faces, Lindsey continued. “That year, however, the Council came into possession of some news scrolls. Instead of having fully registered Watchers translate them; Mr. Travers gave the job over to one of the students. He did not think that there was anything important about them, but the young man returned with a translation that mimicked one from the Codex that, at the time, Mr. Giles had just come into possession of.”

“That passage about the angel,” Giles supplied, earning a nod from the secretary.

“Yes, that’s the one.” She adjusted in her chair to make herself more comfortable; the secretary reached over onto the table and began to play with the red stirring stick, turning it between her fingers. A humorless chuckled escaped from within her throat as she said, “Any other time, the text would have been completely dismissed as being mistranslated or a false prophecy. But there was a woman, a geneticist. She was working for the Council at that time, and because of her research, Mr. Travers didn’t find the prophecy so laughable anymore.”

“Lang,” Buffy answered, venom dripping from the word as if it was some sort of ancient curse.

Lindsey, however, simply shook her head. “No. Her predecessor. A woman named Cassandra Miller.

“Dr. Miller had done research for the Council on demon genetics, trying to discover a way to possible use it to the advantage of the slayer. She had break through discoveries, namely that there are latent genes in slayer DNA that are strikingly similar to those of certain demons. She was studying these matching DNA, trying to see if, perhaps, one day she would be able to activate it somehow and give the slayer the abilities that these demons possess.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Buffy said, holding up her hands, trying to understand what she had just been told. “Are you saying that I have demon DNA in me?”

Blinking, Lindsey answered, “Not exactly. It’s similar DNA. Most remain dormant indefinitely, but some are activated and that’s what gives you your slayer strength and endurance.” She glanced over at Giles and said, “I thought she knew this.”

“This is not something we go around advertising, Ms. Baron,” he answered in a warning tone as Buffy stared at him in disbelief.

Giles knew and didn’t tell her?! How could he not tell her?! This was huge! This was colossal news to her! And, what? He just forgot to mention it?

Nervously, the watcher glanced over to the young woman sitting at his side that was staring at him. He offered her a weak smile, but it did little ease the shock of finding out like this. When he saw it didn’t work, he cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Lindsey, gently reminding Buffy what exactly they were doing there. The slayer gave him one last look, then turned back to the secretary also; but if Giles thought this was the end of this, he was sadly mistaken.

“Please continue, Lindsey,” Giles encouraged.

“Yes, well, um,” she said, shifting in her seat again. “Dr. Miller’s program had always been a controversy in the Council, so, when Mr. Travers finally did discontinue it, the news came as no surprise. However, Dr. Miller’s services were not terminated, just…rerouted. Instead of working for the Council, Mr. Travers hired her for his own personal experiments; namely for her to try and prove that the prophecy could actually come to pass and that damphyrs really could exist.

“Since it would not be possible to bring in an actual slayer at the time, even though there were two of you, Mr. Travers contacted the watcher he felt had the SIT with the greatest potential.”

“SIT?” Buffy repeated. God, at this rate, they’d never get through this.

“Slayer In Training,” Spike answered. No one at the table questioned how he knew that, not even the secretary.

Clearing her throat, she went on, “Yes. The potential he called for was a young girl from New York. She was only fourteen at the time, but she definitely showed the signs that she could very well be called should anything happen to Ms. Kendra. Of course, we did not know of Ms. Faith, but that is beside the point. The girl’s name was Kennedy O’Connell.

“Ms. Kennedy was put through some rigorous test, but she proved healthy enough. And she was quiet smart as well, and very loyal to the Council and the teachings her watcher was instilling in her. She never once questioned why she was there or what Dr. Miller was doing. Poor girl should have.

“It took a bit longer to find a suitable male. While access to vampire DNA is fairly easy to come by for the Council, what was needed is not. And even if Ms. Kennedy and a vampire were put under the same lust spell that you two were, it was fairly certain that she would be killed during the, um…”

An awkward silence passed as Lindsey looked around from person to person at the table. It was obvious she was raised not to discuss such things openly, and even Giles had a slight tint to his cheeks.

“Yes, um, continue,” Giles pushed, hoping to get on with the story.

“As I said, it took longer to find a male, but it was finally Dr. Miller who was able to obtain one that would not be able to harm Ms. Kennedy during the act; or, at least, not that much. She contacted her old mentor, a woman who developed the technology that hindered you from harming humans,” Lindsey said, glancing over at Spike.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Wait. Maggie Walsh was in on this? God, who else was part of this whole conspiracy? British Intelligence? The KGB? Santa Clause?!”

Ms. Baron blinked from the slayer’s outburst, then said, “I’m not sure what you mean, Ms. Summers, but I do know that Dr. Walsh, and Dr. Walsh alone, was contacted about sending a chipped male; preferably one that was a master and more than a hundred years old. She sent the one she had at the time, and promised to send the names of anymore later on should one be needed, as long as Dr. Miller kept her updated about the progress of her research. Apparently she had her own agenda as well.”

“You can say that again,” the slayer muttered under her breath. “So, Maggie sends you a nice, chipped vamp. Then what happened?”

With a small shrug as if it should be obvious, Lindsey said, “The experiment. Like with you, they waited until a time when Ms. Kennedy would be able to conceive a child and then they placed the spell over them.” The secretary became very quiet for a moment, as if the information she was able to share with them was weighing heavy on her. “There was an unexpected development from the spell, though. It seems that Ms. Kennedy did not exactly care for the opposite sex, but…” There was a tense pause that passed over the table, all of them knowing what she was getting at but hoping they were wrong. Finally, she said, “Mr. Travers let the experiment continue.”

“Oh, God,” Buffy said softly, covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers. From beside her, Giles looked even more disgusted, if that were at all possible, and Spike just looked angry.

With a small nod, she let them know that what they were assuming was true. “Dr. Miller was horrified at this. She had tried to stop it, but, of course, Mr. Travers wouldn’t allow that. I believe that she even tried to leave because of what happened, but that did not occur either.

“It wasn’t long after that that they discovered that the experiment was a success, and Ms. Kennedy was indeed about to have the first documented damphyr. The first thing Dr. Miller did after hearing the news was to have the vampire destroyed, and then put in to Mr. Travers that the child should be as well since the whole project was just supposed to see if one could actually be created. He refused, and said that the project would not be deemed successful until the child was born so as he could be positive that there would be nothing wrong with one. It wouldn’t do to have the child come out with ridged forehead, yellow eyes, and fangs, now would it?”

Buffy glared momentarily at the woman that sat across from her, the slayer’s hand slipping down beneath the table and placed over her stomach from her description of how the baby might look. She knew better, of course. After all, Dylan had been the prettiest child she had ever seen when she born; but still, she didn’t like the way Ms. Baron had described a possible child.

“Ms. Kennedy didn’t have it easy during her pregnancy,” Lindsey went on, either not noticing Buffy’s glare or ignoring it. “It quickly became obvious there was something wrong, and more tests were conducted on the poor child. It seems that there is a reason why there are not any of these children that have ever successfully been created. Somehow, I’m not completely sure how, the child…feeds off the mother, and not like regular children do. As they get closer to their due dates, the child is slowly killing the mother from the inside to allow it to be born. It either kills both the mother and itself before it’s able to be born, or has to be born prematurely to save its life at the cost of the mother’s.”

She looked up and saw Buffy’s disbelieving face.

“I did not happen to you because you are the slayer, Ms. Summers. You have the slayer ability to heal and regenerate; therefore your child did not harm you and continued on like it was a regular pregnancy. Being the Chosen One actually saved your life in this case.” Lindsey dropped her eyes again to her cup that was nearly empty now. “And not being chosen cost Ms. Kennedy hers. Not long after she entered her eight month, she had a son, Sebastian. She died a couple of days later.

“The boy was small and weak from being born early. Mr. Travers didn’t like this, but now knew what he needed to know, that one could be created and brought to full term. So, he ordered that the child be terminated and that Dr. Miller prepare for you, Ms. Summers.”

Buffy felt her anger continue to rise at everything she was being told. After what Travers put that girl through, he was going to kill her child because it wasn’t up to his standards?! She was so going to enjoy killing him.

“Dr. Miller couldn’t do it, however,” Lindsey went on and then clarified, “kill the child. Even though she knew how it came to be, she knew it was just a child and didn’t have any control over that. And she knew that he wouldn’t always be small and weak. He was just a primi, but he would grow. So, late one night, she took him. Walked right out of the building with him and was never seen again.

“Mr. Travers put some people on it, to try and find her; but his main concern was turned to trying to find a suitable replacement for Dr. Miller and preparing for you two. I really thought that that would be the end of the whole horrid thing because I did not believe he would be able to find someone to replace Dr. Miller as quickly as he needed. I was wrong, as you well know.”

She let out a puff of air that sounded like a cross between a snort and a sigh.

“He didn’t tell Dr. Lang about Dr. Miller or Sebastian or what she had done. He was too afraid of a repeat of what happened, I suppose. Of course, after meeting Dr. Lang, I do not believe that would have been a possibility.

“After everything that happened with you and the demon and Mr. Travers’ stroke, I retired and tried my best forget the whole mess. Then, one day about two years ago, Dr. Miller contacted me out of the blue. She was looking for Mr. Travers.

“Apparently, after leaving with young Sebastian, she changed her name to Samantha and married some man in the United States military service. They were raising Sebastian and had the boy believing that she was his mother’s sister and she had left him to her to take care of. As far as I know, her husband believed the same thing

“Then, two years ago, Sebastian went missing and they found out that Mr. Travers was the one responsible. He had found them and found that the boy was most definitely worth keeping around. I told them I didn’t know anything, which is true enough. I did not know anything more than Dr. Miller did, and that was the end of it. A few days after that happened, someone sent me an e-mail with an article about Dr. Miller and her husband’s ‘mysterious’ deaths in a car crash. I got the message clear enough, and have never spoken of about these things to anyone…until now.”

With a sympathetic smile, Giles reached over and barely touched Lindsey’s arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep our promise to protect you.”

The humorless snort from earlier returned. “It doesn’t matter if you try or not, Mr. Giles,” she said solemnly, leaning back in her chair once again.

**********

Sebastian knocked gently on the door and waited for the old man on the other side to answer. Upon arriving home, Grandfather had requested that he speak with the boy alone after receiving their report on how they had done slaying wise that night. He had been pleased with the numbers. Since Russia, Dylan’s ability had greatly improved, but Bastian knew that it had more to do with the fact she was trying to take out some of her pain and guilt onto the bad guy. He always knew she would do better if she got emotional, he just wished it didn’t have to be over something like this.

“Enter,” came the gruff reply as the boy turned the knob and let himself inside.

Grandfather was sitting behind his desk, reading over something and hardly paying the boy any mind until he was standing right before.

“You wanted to see me?” Sebastian asked properly, his arms behind his back and his feet spread as he stood at what his uncle had called parade rest.

Grandfather placed the file he had been reading onto his desk, rested his chin against his locked hands like he was about to say a prayer, and looked up at the boy across from him. “I have a job for you.”

**********

Buffy stood in front of the small suitcase that lay on her mother’s bed. Since arriving back in New York, they had simply taken up residence in her mother’s apartment that she kept in the city for when she had to come out for business. It was nice, in a good neighborhood, and was decorated in a way that it reminded the slayer of her home back in Sunnydale; but it still wasn’t home. But, then, home generally didn’t feel like home anymore either; not without…

She sighed softly and continued to pack things away for her trip. She was going back to Sunnydale tomorrow afternoon as part of her agreement with Spike had stipulated. The deal was, she got to stay with them up until they found Ms. Baron in New York, find out what she knew, and then Buffy was on the first plan back to California to take care of herself until the baby was born.

At the time, it had seemed like that she was fine with it, but, now that the time had come, part of her couldn’t help but feel like she abandoning her daughter. No matter what Spike or Giles or anyone said, it felt like she was giving up on Dylan by leaving, it didn’t matter what the reason was.

She felt him standing behind her, probably leaning against the wall or in the doorway, watching her as she packed away her belongings to go home where it was safe. That was a laugh. Sunnydale was anything but safe, considering it was the hellmouth. It’s true that she would have been safer if they sent her some place else, like to Angel in Los Angeles or send her and one of the Scoobies to some place in the middle of nowhere where no one knew them or what they did; but, if she was being shipped off, she wanted to go home. If nothing else so she could be with her mom and sister for this pregnancy so they wouldn’t miss it like they had the last one.

“Giles said he’d take me to the airport tomorrow morning while Connor watches Lindsey,” she told him, pushing angrily down on one of her blouses to make it fit in with the others. “My flight leaves around noon, so I’ll have to be there before nine for security checks.”

“Alright,” he said. Spike watched as she grabbed another article of clothing and manhandled it. Though he knew the answer, he asked, “You alright, love?”

“Besides finding out I’m part demon and giving up on my daughter? Yeah, I’m just peachy,” she shot back in that ‘you idiot’ tone.

“You are not a demon, Buffy,” he told her firmly, walking up to her so he was now standing directly behind her. When she didn’t turn around to look at him, he reached around her and grabbed her wrist. She didn’t fight as he turned her to face him. “And you’re not givin’ up on her. You’re just goin’ where it’s safe for awhile.”

“Same thing,” the blonde slayer said sadly, refusing to look up into his eyes.

“No, not the same thing.”

Reaching up, he gently touched the tip of her chin and pushed upward until she had no choice but to look at him.

“You’re not givin’ up on her anymore than me or the Watcher or Brood Boy, Jr. are. Bloody hell, woman, I don’t want you to go anymore than you do, but this isn’t about what we want. It’s about protectin’ our own, love. About us protectin’ this one just as much as we want to protect the poppet. You know that.”

She did know, and she did want to protect it just as much as she did Dylan. Yet, though she knew it was the right thing and had every intention of doing it, that didn’t make her feel any better about the decision.

Buffy sighed, dropping her gaze from his again.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I know.”

**********

Lindsey switched off the lights as she walked out of her apartment’s tiny kitchen, a glass of water in hand and a frown on her face upon seeing her unwelcome guest. She knew they were there to protect her, but if they hadn’t come along in the first place she wouldn’t be in this mess. No, up until about five hours ago, she had been living a perfectly normal, quiet life with her past behind her. Now she was once again thrown into the middle of a situation not of her doing and she could only pray that she would make it out alive.

The boy she had learned to be Connor sat at the opened window, watching the street in silence. He had an even look on his face, and seemed to be focused on nothing at all. She wasn’t particularly fond of him. There was just something about him that screamed at Lindsey that he would just as well kill her himself than stop Mr. Travers from doing so. Probably because Mr. Giles told him what her part in this whole sorted affair was, but she wasn’t about to ask the boy his opinion on her. In fact, she was doing her best to ignore the fact that he was even there.

Mr. Giles sat on her couch; well, actually, it was closer to spread out on her couch. The older English man looked as if he would fall asleep any second, causing Lindsey to snort. This was supposed to be her great protection? God, she might as well leave the front door open with a sign saying ‘Kill Me.’

Shifting on her feet and fixing her own scolding look, Lindsey cleared her throat and waited for Mr. Giles to look up at her. It was a few moments before he did so, and it took even longer for him to blink his vision clear to see her.

“I am about to retire for the evening,” she informed him, sounding like a secretary who was telling their boss they were leaving for the night. “The kitchen is through there, and the restroom is down the hall across from my bedroom. Do try and keep things in order. Good evening, Mr. Giles.” She glanced up to catch the boy’s eye and added, “Connor.”

Giles scrambled to sit up on the couch to look attentive, but she was already halfway down her short hall by that time. “Good night,” he started, but she slammed her door shut before he finished. “Lindsey.”

“Nice,” Connor said coolly from his perch before turning back to the view.

“She’s always been like that,” the Watcher said thoughtfully. “Of course, I suppose anyone who worked for Quentin as long as she did would start to lack certain amounts of…”

“Courtesy?”

“Patience.”

Connor snorted at that. The woman could give a yeti the chills.

Giles shifted himself back into the comfortable position he had found earlier since it was obvious that he would be on the couch for the night. He pulled his jacket a little higher on his chest to try and keep his arms warms. As Dawn would say, talk about ungrateful. They were there to protect this blasted woman, the least she could do was provide him with a blanket and pillow for the night. Instead, the middle-aged man would just have to make due with what he had for the time being.

“Wake me in a few hours and we’ll switch,” he told the young man just as he closed his eyes to try and get some sleep.

Connor glanced over at him before he turned back to window. When he heard Giles’ snores a few minutes later, the young man thought it was a good thing that he didn’t sleep much or this Lindsey woman would be in real trouble tonight.

**********

From the street corner, Travers watched from the backseat of his car as the bedroom light went off. Turning away from the window, he looked at the small group that sat with him in the vehicle, all waiting for their orders. He nodded to the two men in the front seat, who returned the gesture before getting out. Then the old man turned to the child seated next to him.

She looked like she really didn’t want to do this, but at the same time was trying to hide the fact from him. He smiled warmly down at her, which only put the young girl even more on edge.

“Just do as you are told, Dylan-dear,” he said to her in a warm, yet almost threatening way. Travers nodded to the two men who were waiting outside the car. “They’ll do the rest.”

Swallowing hard, the girl did what she was ordered to do.

**********

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Buffy groaned slightly as she held onto the sides of the birdbath-like sink. Her bare feet felt cold against the white tile floor and she shifted uncomfortably on them.

The bathroom was designed to look like it had stepped right out of the nineteen twenties, right down to clawed bathtub with a shower curtain that could be pulled nearly all the way around it. The former residents must have made it like this because she knew for a fact that her mother wouldn’t have agreed to a bathroom design that didn’t include a sink counter for all her stuff and a larger mirror than the medicine cabinet before her.

Buffy glanced up at her reflection and found that she indeed did look as bad as she felt. God, she hated morning sickness. And her kid was taking the phrase to heart, waking the slayer at the pleasant time of three o’clock in the morning. She didn’t remember being as sick with Dylan, but she was usually up and traveling somewhere at this time since she and Spike could generally only move at night and she may just not remember. Still, she couldn’t wait until it was over with. Grabbing her toothbrush, she quickly cleaned the awful taste out of her mouth.

She looked up back up in the mirror before her and sighed. Well, at least she looked a little bit better than a few moments ago. Now all she needed was something to make that sickly green shade go away, and she would be all set.

The slayer opened the bathroom door and let the light flood into the dark bedroom she had been resting comfortably in earlier. With his bare back to her, Spike was still sleeping as soundly as he had been when she left. It was hard to believe that anyone could actually continue to sleep when she had literally jumped out of bed, charged towards the bathroom, slammed the door shut, and preceded to wretch until her stomach was empty again. Yet, here he lay, just as peaceful as could be. Well, at least she finally knew where Dylan got it from.

As Buffy reached up to turn off the bathroom light, something caught her eye. She froze for a moment, and tried to focus in on the form resting comfortably in a chair that sat in the dark, far corner of the room. It didn’t move for several seconds, and neither did she. Every warning was going off in her body, telling her that she indeed was not imagining that something was there watching her.

“I know you’re there,” she said to the shadow, her fist curling up into a tight ball for just in case she had to fight.

In response, the form reached over to the lamp that sat on a small table next to the chair and turned it on.

“Soddin’ hell?” came a groggy voice.

The added light brightened the whole room up enough to finally wake Spike from his sleep. He gave a groggy groan as he slowly sat up in bed to see what going on. His senses snapped back to him when he saw the young figure sitting in the chair. An instant later Spike was on his feet standing in front of Buffy, his sleep completely forgotten.

The blonde slayer gave him a look from behind. Yeah, wasn’t he her great protector; considering he would have slept through the whole thing had the kid not turned on the light. Shaking her head slightly, she turned her attention back to the silent boy.

He was young, maybe a little older than Dylan, but he also had that ‘I’m a kid but not’ thing about him just like her daughter did. His dark hair fell slightly around his face as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, like he was waiting for the two adults to address him. Speak only when spoken to, crossed Buffy’s mind as she looked at him and realized exactly who he was. The boy from the club, the one that helped her daughter and they had learned about from Lindsey, “Sebastian.”

A small smile passed on the boy lips, almost as if to say ‘So you’ve heard of me.’ It quickly faded though, and he went back to the even look that reminded her a bit too much of a younger Connor.

“What the bloody hell are you doin’ here?” Spike bit coldly.

Sebastian gave a small shrug like the answer should have been obvious to them. “I was supposed to kill you.”

**********

Connor hadn’t moved from his perch, his head resting against the frame of the window as he continued to stare blankly out of it. He had hoped that this woman would have helped as much as Giles had said she would, but she had only ended up being more of a burden to them than anything.

What had she really told them anyway? That there’s another kid like Dylan? What was so big about that? Buffy was going to have another one just like her soon anyway, so he couldn’t understand why the fact that there is one that is older than Dylan was such a big deal.

Well, maybe he could, if the kid had been trained like him. Connor had already earned his nickname, the Destroyer, by the time he was that kid’s age. Of course, Connor had been in Quortoth, a nasty hell dimension, so it had been kill or be killed. One had to be tough to grow up there.

He was also pretty sure that this guy, Travers, couldn’t be as bad as his father had been. No, he couldn’t be. Connor wouldn’t let himself think that Dylan, a girl who was like his own little sister, would have to go through such a hell as that, no matter what the others said.

A chilled breeze blew in from the cracked window, bringing a familiar scent. The young man’s back stiffened slightly, his eyes wide as he took several deep breaths to make sure that he was not mistaken. No, he couldn’t be wrong. He knew her scent as well as he knew Dawn’s or Cordelia’s or his father’s; that strange combination of honey, Coke, and dirt from a rough day of play. The scent of innocence, the scent of a child. The way the smells intermingled together told him that it was her; told him that Dylan was indeed nearby.

The miracle child leaned forward into the window, peering down into the dark streets below. He half expected to see her standing there, looking up at him from the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets and that annoyed look on her face that Dawn had taught her. But her form was nowhere to be found from where he sat, but her scent was still strong in the wind. She was nearby, no more than a block or two away.

Connor glanced over towards the couch at the sleeping Giles. The ex-Watcher snorted slightly in his slumber, then adjusted his position to insure that the noise would not repeat so not to wake himself up. Part of him knew that he should wake Giles and tell him before heading out to find her, but the older man would have questions that he didn’t have time to answer. After all, ever second that he sat here meant she could be getting further and further away. Besides, he shouldn’t be gone long, and Giles and that Lindsey woman should be alright until then.

Pushing the window open further, Connor made his choice and disappeared in search of the lost little girl.

**********

The boy sat at the counter quietly, watching the man that stood on the other side in the small kitchen that was staring directly back at him. It wasn’t a murderous glare as Sebastian had expected, but it definitely expressed the vampire’s intent that he would do anything to protect the woman standing at the sink behind him. Not that he had really expected anything less.

Sebastian’s own face and eyes were nearly unreadable. By Spike’s own musings of the child, he would say that kid had probably been taught from an early age how to hide what he was thinking from adults or anyone else observing him. That look was so void of any sort of emotion or thought that the vampire knew that he must have been shown how to do so far sooner than when Travers had snatched him up two years ago. That Cassandra or Sam or whatever-the-hell-her-name-was woman must have shown him how, probably to keep him from accidentally spilling anything to her husband or anyone else.

The brown-haired boy dropped his gaze from the staring contest that he and Spike had been holding, instead choosing to watch the woman behind him. Once the glass she held was filled with water, she reached over and turned off the running liquid before turning back towards the two men. She placed the beverage in front of the child, a tight frown on her face, as she watched him lift it and take a drink.

“You really should be more careful,” Sebastian said into the glass, making the words sound muffled.

“Yeah, we’ll have the locks changed tomorrow,” Spike bit coolly at the boy.

“Not that.” He nodded towards the slayer. “She’s starting to show.”

Buffy glanced down at her midsection, taking note that the child was right. Generally, she was very careful, wearing baggier clothes to hide her rounded stomach. That night, however, she had simple grabbed Spike shirt off the floor and pulled it on, and it was now pulling to show off her changing appearance.

Wrapping her arms around it, she asked, “Travers know?”

With a shake of his head, Bastian answered, “Not that I know of. But he probably will soon enough.”

“You?” Spike asked.

“Or some demon. Any way you go, you know that you can’t keep it a secret for too long. At least not from someone like Grandfather…” For the first time that night, the two adults saw the boy flinch. “I mean Travers.”

Buffy studied him for a long moment. He said the ex-Head of the Council’s name with a much distain as she or Spike or any of the Scoobies did, but there was more to it. Something in the way he spoke also told her he was trapped by it. Travers held something over him, something bad, and he now felt compelled to do the old man’s bidding. A chill traveled up her spine as she thought that perhaps Travers now had that same power over her own child.

“What are you doin’ here, boy?” she heard Spike ask again.

“I told you.”

“To kill us?” the older man asked in a mocking tone. “I seriously doubt that.”

For a singular moment, Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in the doubt of his abilities. “I had been sitting there for quiet awhile, sir. If I had wanted, I could have.”

“Why didn’t you?” Buffy quickly cut in before Spike actually was able to pick a fight with the ten-year-old in front of him.

Returning to his even face, Sebastian told her, “You’re her only chance. I couldn’t take that away.”

“Since when do you give a damn about my daughter?! You helped put her in that hell!”

“Spike,” Buffy said softly. She reached up and touched his arm, trying her best to cool him down before he did something stupid, like hurt the boy and ruin their only chance in possibly helping Dylan.

“I do care about her,” the boy shot back defensively before dropping his gaze from theirs yet again. “More than I should.”

“Then help us,” Buffy demanded. “Take us to her. Bring her to us! Just do something!”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.”

Spike watched as Sebastian gave Buffy a hard look that she shrunk away from. She knew something, something he didn’t, which apparently was going to complicate things even more. He’d ask her about it later. Right now just didn’t seem like the time or the place.

Sighing, the boy slouched slightly and sat back on the bar stool. “I want to help her,” he told them honestly. “But I don’t know how. And even if I did….I don’t know if it would matter now anyway.”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a look. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

**********

Dylan quickly slipped into the back seat of the car, shutting the door just as the vehicle started off once more. The young girl was breathing hard after having run several blocks in a zigzag pattern for Connor to follow. She knew he had not been that far behind her. Like him, she picked up his scent not long ago and it had been getting stronger and stronger. He was so close…

A part of her was yelling at herself for not taking the opportunity to let him catch her. He could have taken her home to her family and friends and she could have put this whole thing behind her. But then he would have known why she led him away. They would have known for sure what she had become.

It had happened, the sticky smell hung over the two men in the front seat like a cloak of death. Yet again, she had proven the old man next to her right. She was a thing…the monster of his creation. She had known, and she had done as she was told like always.

Grandfather smiled at the child next to him. “You did very well, darling.”

Without raising her eyes from the floorboard, she answered solemnly, “Thank you, Grandfather.”

**********

Connor frowned as he came to a stop at the street corner where the trail ended. Overhead, the sky was starting to lighten up in the early morning hours, and a few people were starting to busy the street on their way to work. He looked up the road, then down the other way. She was gone, again.

Sighing, the young man returned to the apartment building he had left what seemed just like minutes before. He wasn’t actually sure how long he had been gone, an hour, maybe more, but he knew it had been longer than he planned. Giles was probably awake now, sitting on the couch with a scolding look for his irresponsible behavior. However, he was pretty sure the older man would understand that he had to try.

He quickly climbed the fire escape that he had used earlier, and slipped back through the still opened window. To his surprise, Giles was still asleep on the couch, his head dropped back and his mouth slightly opened letting soft, muffled snores escape from deep within his throat. Connor bit the inside of his cheeks to kill a smile. Guess the poor guy really was getting to old for all this.

The smile quickly died though as he took a step towards the old man and caught a new scent…several in fact. Someone had been there while he was gone. And there was something else, something stickier, darker, something…

Connor charged across the small living room towards the hall, accidentally knocking the couch as he went by. Giles snorted loudly from the sudden jolt, rolled slightly, and fell right off the piece of furniture. His head shot up just in time to see Connor take off down the hall for Lindsey’s bedroom.

“Connor?” he called, pushing himself up off the floor.

His back cringed and a sharp pain shot through his neck and shoulder, causing him to groan. After he had a moment to adjust, he went after the young man that had so rudely awakened him.

“Connor, what is it?”

Giles found him in Lindsey’s room, standing right next to her bed, looking down at the woman. She lay on her side, turned away from the Watcher and the boy. A deep frown was on Connor’s face as he finally looked up at Giles’ then back down at the woman. He then reached over, grabbed her shoulder, and rolled her on her back.

Her throat had been slashed.

**********

Travers sat at his desk, his chair turned towards the large window behind it that overlooked part of downtown and a bit of Central Park. The sun had risen over the horizon, bathing the city in a warm light as it began to come alive for another day. Well, mostly come alive; some of her residents hadn’t lived to see the new day that waited.

He frowned at the thought of his dearly departed secretary. He had always liked Lindsey; she had been a dutiful servant when she had worked for him. Too bad she turned out to be a traitor, just like most people did if they were not taught correctly. Well, he was making sure now that he wouldn’t have that problem in the future with his new…servants.

The frown gave way to a grin as the though of how Mr. Giles was probably just now finding the body. He could see him, standing there with his mouth hanging open in disgust at what had happen. Then he would slowly begin to realize that he had been a sitting duck there as he slept. They could have easily killed him too, but they hadn’t. He would look for the reason why forever, Travers had no doubt of that.

Truth was, it wasn’t because he had like the old man and decided to give him a break or anything like that. It hadn’t even been because Dylan had begged him not to hurt him. The simple reason was…so he’d be tortured because he let Lindsey die and they had let him live. Sometimes, mind games really could be fun.

A timid knock came from his door, pulling Travers’ away from his amusement at the thought of torturing Giles. Well, time to see if his other mission had gone as successfully.

“Enter,” he called.

He listened as the door opened and shut and waited several long seconds until he was sure that the boy was now standing in front of his desk. The old man then slowly turned his chair around and came face to face with the child he had sent out earlier that night.

Sebastian stood there, his arms behind his back and trying hard not to swallow to moisten his quickly drying throat. This had been the first time he had ever actually failed on a mission, and he wasn’t sure how Grandfather would take it.

Part of him was yelling at himself for not just bringing Buffy and Spike with him to take Dylan away; but he couldn’t do that, not yet anyway. Dylan wasn’t ready for them to find her as of yet, and it would be his job to get her ready again before he would help them get her back. Grandfather had done a lot of damage to the little girl, and Sebastian knew he was going to have to help undo some of it before she could go.

“Is it done?”

This time, Bastian couldn’t stop his throat from reflectively swallowing. “No.”

He watched as something flashed through Grandfather’s eyes, giving him the briefest glance at the evil he knew lay beneath. The old man was not happy by this failure.

“And why is it not?”

Drawing a deep breath, the boy held it for a moment. He felt bad about the excuse he had come up with, knowing that it would probably only cause more problems, but he dared not stray from it. After all, he had told them it would be only a matter of time before the old man found out anyway; better he used it to keep himself alive to help Dylan than let Grandfather find out some other way and take it out on the boy for not telling him earlier.

“Buffy’s pregnant.”

Sebastian stood there, watching as the anger behind the man’s eyes suddenly changed to terror before he turned away from the boy. That was weird. Of all the reactions he had expected, that had not been one of them.

“Leave,” Grandfather bit, his back once more to the child. Bastian could only stand there, blinking several times in surprise. When he found the boy still there, Travers hissed, “Now!”

A moment later, he heard the door close as the child did as he was told. He sat there for a long time, just staring off into nothing as he processed what Sebastian had told him.

Pregnant. The slayer was pregnant again.

He turned his chair back around to face the desk, reached into the bottom right hand drawer, and pulled out a bottle of scotch he kept there for emergencies. To hell with the fact that it was six in the morning; he needed booze and lots of it.

He had hoped that he would have been able to take care of the problem before it came to this. That she wouldn’t have lived to create this new mess. God, why couldn’t she have just died like a normal person would have back in Moscow? That had been all he wanted, the only reason he had gone to them to bring her back just like they had brought back the witch for him. Yeah, they hadn’t known he planned on killing her again once she had served her purpose for him and saw what Dylan had done, but he also had shot her to prevent this very thing from happening. Apparently, he had already been too late.

Hell, they had probably cast a protection spell on her the moment one of their seers had known she was pregnant to keep anything from happening to the child. Probably the only reason his shot had missed and not killed her.

It took him polishing off his second glass before he even dared looked at the black phone on the edge of his desk. His lips went dry, so he poured himself a third glass and downed half of it before going back to the phone.

Well, time to give the devil his due, he thought with a sigh as he let go of the glass on his desk and reached for the receiver.

He didn’t remember dialing the number, nor had been aware of the ringing through the phone line. It wasn’t until he heard the other end being picked up that he became aware of anything.

“This is Travers,” he said. Then, there was a long pause followed by his sigh. “What do you want done?”

**********

He stood in Jackson Square, staring up at the old Cathedral that towered over the courtyard filled with people.

Most were tourist, out seeing the sights of New Orleans in late May. They had waited until after the thunderstorm that occurred regularly in the area to venture into the downtown area of the city. Perhaps they assumed that the rain would cool things off, and, with the added setting sun, then the heat and humidity would not be that bad. They didn’t realize that things actually got hotter after the rain. Not that heat and humidity really mattered all that much to him, but he knew that Giles was dying and Connor even made it known he was uncomfortable.

Over head, the sky was a mixture of dark gray clouds residual from the storm, and burning red from the setting sun. It looked like someone had been cutting into the gray, giving the image that the sky was now bleeding from the gapping wounds. A bloody sight, yet strangely beautiful, even for those who weren’t vampires.

It had been nearly two months since that night in New York with that kid Sebastian, and they hadn’t heard a thing from him since then. Spike had been kicking himself since then for not just making the boy take them to where Dylan was, but the child had ended up pulling a Houdini on them after their little talk. Part of the vampire had hoped the kid would have gotten in contact with them by now, but, with each passing day, that seemed less and less likely. Now the group of men found themselves tracking Travers ever cooling trail. This time it led south to Louisiana.

Giles had disappeared into one of the nearby occult shops which New Orleans was famous for. Spike wasn’t quite sure why the old Watcher had gone; perhaps to get some supplies or see if maybe they had some useful information. Of course, he was willing to lay odds that it was for a matter of business. Anya probably told him to go and make some connections for the Magic Box while they were in the Big Easy for voodoo dolls or something of the sort.

Little Peaches was currently across the road in Café Du Monde trying a beignet with the other three hundred people crammed into the small area. He figured he might as well get something to eat while they were waiting on Giles to return, and the French pastry seemed as good as anything. Spike just hoped the kid remembered to wipe his hands when he was done; the last thing he wanted was to spend the rest of the night brushing powder sugar off everything the kid touched.

The vampire himself had decided to wait in front of the church, near where the artist and tarot card readers were setup. He didn’t dare go any closer to the house of God, but stood there all the same looking up at the building. Years back, going into the church would have meant nothing to him; just another place that happened to be where stupid mortals prayed for goodness, strength, and help. Now that he had the soul, he hardly felt as if he should look at the place, let alone consider going inside. But, maybe by standing this close, his own prayers would still be heard.

There was another feeling, one that had been plaguing him since late last night. He didn’t know quite how to describe it other than a tight, anxious ball in the pit of stomach.

Though Spike didn’t have a name for the sensation, he knew it rather well. It was the same feeling he got the night before Cecily’s party and in China when he fought and killed his first slayer. It was there when he and Drusilla were making their way to Sunnydale the first time and when he returned on his own the second. It had stalked him the night he and the slayer had been taken, and had nearly made him sick on the night Dylan was born. It was there the night Buffy had been killed and returned with her. There was change in the air, and it was going to happen soon.

He just wished he knew what it was.

**********

Willow knelt in front of Buffy, her green eyes studying the crystal with the same intensity she had when she had to study for a test back in high school. Nothing was going to break her concentration, not until she got her answer.

“And the crystal says,” the redhead said slowly, “you will have a…boy!”

Her face lightened up at the answer she had retrieved from the clear rock she had been swinging over Buffy’s now rather defined stomach. A small smile rose to the slayers lips as she thought about her friend’s prediction.

A boy. A baby boy. Gees, that would be strange, considering her mother had only had daughters, and Buffy herself also had a little girl. It would be kind of nice to have a little boy in the house; at least then they wouldn’t out number Spike so badly.

“Oh, please,” Anya said from behind the counter where she had been going over the day’s receipts. “That’s the same crystal that said Cash was going to be a girl. And guess what, he’s not.”

“Well, it-it’s not an exact science, so there’s room for error,” Willow tried to defend.

“Oh, for the love of…” Anya started as she rolled her eyes, then reached into the cash register and pulled out a coin. “I have just as much chance guessing what Buffy’s baby will be by flipping this coin as you do by waving that piece of rock over her stomach.”

The witch sighed as she slumped back in her chair. “How many times to do I have to say I’m sorry I guessed wrong on Cash?”

“You’re sorry?! Do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to having another daughter?! I was going to teach her all the cool things about being a girl like I am with Jessie, like wearing dresses and make-up and how wonderful it feels when a guy put his-.”

“Anya!” both Willow and Buffy exclaimed, cutting the ex-vengeance demon off.

“Anyway,” she went on, “I even had a room set up, all pretty and pink. But then I had a boy. A boy! Me, Anyanka, the demon who wrought vengeance in women’s names against the evil male species, suddenly contributed another one! I love my son, yes, but do you have any idea how embarrassing it is when I run into my old friends and they are laughing at me because I am now raising a male?”

Willow and Buffy rolled their eyes and tuned the woman out as she continued to rant about what Halfrek said the last time she saw her. The ex-witch smiled warmly at her friend as she took the seat next to her at the table.

“So, you heard anything from Spike lately?”

Instinctively, Buffy’s hands reached up and began to rub her stomach. “Um, yeah, he called last night. Said he and Connor and Giles were still getting nowhere in New Orleans, but were going to keep trying.”

“That’s good,” Willow said lowly. “That they’ll keep trying, I mean. Not the whole ‘nothing to go on.’ Maybe they’ll, you know, find something.”

“Here’s hoping,” Buffy answered.

“NO!” a voice bellowed out as the bell over the door rang out and three kids came charging into the store, followed by an annoyed Andrew. Van and Jessie slid their book bags off their shoulders and headed off to various parts of the store as Cash held onto to the reddish blond-haired man. As Jessie reached over to do something to Van, Andrew snapped again, “Jessie I said stop it.”

The brown-haired child rolled her eyes at the man and then turned to her mother, who had finally stopped ranting to see what the commotion was about. “Mommy, tell Andrew he can’t tell me what to do because he’s just a servant.”

“I am not a servant!” Andrew snapped with an unusually firmness that only came out around the children. Probably because they were the only members of the group that he didn’t feel had the right to look down on him for whatever reason.

“He’s right, honey,” Anya told the little girl. “Andrew’s not a servant because I have to pay him to work for me. That makes him the help.”

“Anya!” Willow said.

“What? It’s true. I pay him therefore he has to do as I say. That makes him the help.”

“No, that makes him your employee.”

“Same difference,” she shrugged.

“No, it’s-You know what, never mind,” the ex-witch sighed, giving up on the situation.

This was a familiar scene. Andrew would come in after picking up the kids from their after school programs, Jessie or Cash would do something and then say something to their mom, and of course Anya never helped the situation unless to make it worse. Then either Willow or Xander would do their best to defend her servant-employee who could end this all if he would just stand up for himself. But Anya could be rather scary; and Buffy didn’t know how Andrew was able to continue walking upright since he never did grow that spine.

Jessie and Van had lost interest in the conversation and were now seated at the table. Jessie’s colorful backpack had been picked up off the floor and was now sitting before her, waiting for her to open it and pull out her books like Van had already done. The young boy pushed his reading glasses up his nose as he pulled out an English book that was far too thick for any fourth grader. Jessie made a face before pulling out a flimsy workbook for math. After considering it for a moment, the young girl quickly decided that playing with the rings on her fingers was more exciting than doing homework. She was most definitely related to Xander in that aspect.

During this time, Cash had abandoned Andrew and was slowly sneaking up on his big sister, being as careful as he could that she didn’t spot him. At the current moment, Jessie had taken off her largest ring and was spinning it like a quarter across the table, just waiting for one of the adults to tell her to stop that and start her homework. Cash moved up to the table crouched low and barely peeking over the table’s edge to watch the ring. When it stopped, Jessie reached over to make it spin again, but the boy’s arm shot out and scooped the piece of the jewelry up before he took off with it.

“MOM!” Jessie exclaimed before taking off after the laughing child. “Give it back, Cash!” the girl screamed, chasing him around the table. The boy darted behind his mother as Jessie followed and demanded, “Give it back, you little troll, or I’ll make Mr. Froggy meet Mr. Trash Compactor!”

“Mommy!” Cash cried, nearly bursting into tears at the thought that his sister would actually make the Kermit be torn to shreds. He took the threat seriously because, instead of having army men, he had small puddles of melted plastic to play with.

“Jessie,” Anya sighed, picking the boy up and placing him on the counter.

“He took my ring!” she exclaimed in justification.

Anya looked at the young child before and held out her hand, which he placed the small gold ring in. He pouted a little, but Anya paid it no mind as she handed the piece of jewelry back over to the little girl.

“Now, go do your homework,” she ordered her oldest, who rolled her eyes but did as she was told.

Buffy watched in awe at how Anya was actually able to handle that almost like her own mother would have if it were her and Dawn. No yelling, no threatening of any kind on her part, just that calm way parents defuse situations when they have more than one child.

The slayer suddenly became very aware that she would be doing that very soon too. She was going to have two children, and there would be times when they would be fighting like that and she would have to handle it. Thing is she didn’t know if she would be able too. Usually, her way of handling a situation where two people are fighting involved her own use of violence to make them stop. She was pretty sure that wasn’t the right way to handle two children battling with one another. And they were her and Spike’s kids, so she knew that they were going to love to fight with each other. She just hoped that they didn’t end up killing one another.

Of course, the first thing she had to do was get the oldest one back before she had to consider them fighting at all. She let out a sigh as she looked down at her stomach and began to rub it again as the child kicked her hard.

Don’t worry, kid, she thought, we’ll find your big sister. After all, you’re going to need someone to fight with. All of us Summers do.

**********

Cordy sat at the front desk, absentmindedly tapping her pencil against the desk in a steady, quick motion. It had been quiet all afternoon, with no trace of a call coming in any time soon, which was really strange for them this time of year.

Every May since Buffy had came into her life her sophomore year of high school, she had been met with some sort of disaster or Big Bad or, generally, an unstoppable apocalypse that, strange enough, they always seemed to help avert. Yet, May was almost over, and nothing huge had happened. She hadn’t even had a vision in over two months. God, as sick as it sounded, she was so bored.

“Would you mind stopping that?” an irritated, British voice asked from nearby.

Cordelia glanced up from the nothing she had been staring into to see Wesley glaring at her. His eyes were narrowed ever so slightly with a deep frown to accent them; an intimidated look that he had picked up over the years he had been with Angel Investigation. But even now, after having known the man for so long, Cordy still couldn’t take the look too seriously. After all, she had known him when he was Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Buffy’s new wet-behind-the-ears Watcher who had been so uptight and proper she would have sworn the rod up his ass stopped for its own tea time.

The seer had barely been able to kill a smile before the ex-Watcher turned back to the dusty old book in his lap and said, “Some of us are trying to work.”

Cordy’s own eyes narrowed at the tone he had used, like she was some child who had been annoying the adults for long enough. Fred, who was sitting across from Wesley and helping him research, caught the look and decided to try and defuse it before they were reminded just how Cordy had been in high school.

“So, when did Lorne say that he’d be back?” she asked, avoiding the deadly glare that Cordelia turned her way.

Wesley looked up once more from the book to the mousy woman across from him. She had her most childlike innocent look on her face, as if she was really interested in when the green demon would be returning from wherever he had gone.

“Soon, I expect,” Wesley told the young woman. “He has been gone for quite some-.”

“Guy’s,” Cordy spoke up, cutting the ex-Watcher off.

The two turned towards the seer and found that a far off familiar look on her face. A vision. She was having a vision.

Both Wes and Fred got to their feet, and the young man hurried to her side. As the vision ended, Cordy shook her head slowly and woozily swayed on her feet. She would have fallen to the floor completely had Wesley not caught her.

“What did you see?”

After clearing her head a bit more, the ex-cheerleader answered, “A kid…some vamps…and the train station. You do the math.”

Wesley frowned, then looked over at Fred, “Go get Angel.”

**********

Buffy shifted in her seat at the table, hoping to find a position that would be somewhat comfortable. However, no matter which way she turned, it really didn’t help. The kid had moved itself to where it was pushing against her rib cage and didn’t act as if it planned on moving anytime soon. After several minutes of this, the slayer gave a deep sigh of frustration and defeat before pushing herself up so she could stand.

“You okay?” Willow asked, rising to her own feet.

“Yeah,” Buffy answered, shifting on her feet to find her center of balance.

A little over two months to go and she was sure she was almost as big as she had been when she had Dylan. She was already naturally small, so it really didn’t take much to make her look like she was already in her ninth month. She’d have to remember to ask that witch doctor…the doctor who was a witch friend of Willow’s, whether there was something she could do about it. One thing was for sure, there was no possible way she’d ever be a size two ever again. Lord, she just hoped she’d still be a size six when this was over.

“I think I’m going to go ahead and head home,” the slayer announced. “Mom wants to rummage through the basement tonight for some old baby stuff.”

“If you want, I’ll send Xander and Andrew to help you,” Anya offered helpfully. “They’re good at moving heavy objects and can scare away any small rodent-like creatures that could have possibly taken up residence since Spike’s departure.”

“You know, I might have plans for tonight,” Andrew spoke up in a tone that reminded the slayer of when Dawn was younger and her mother had volunteered her to do some of her sister’s chores because Buffy was busy with slayer stuff.

“Oh, you can watch Obi-Wan and Spock go in search of new lifeforms tomorrow night,” Anya said dismissively with the wave of her hand before turning back to Buffy. “I can send them over after patrol.”

“Obi-Wan and Spock?!” Andrew balked, but no one was paying him any mind any longer.

“That’s alright, Anya. I think me and Mom and Dawn can handle it.”

“Nonsense,” the ex-demon said with the same tone she had used on Andrew, and also proving that she had been hanging around Giles for far too long. “You’re pregnant, so you shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting. Joyce is too old to be doing that sort of stuff, and Dawn’s too scrawny to do it.”

“Obi-Wan and Spock?!”

“Anya, it’s fine. You don’t have to-.”

“They’ll be there later, so just wait to move the boxes until then,” the shop-owner ordered, and with that the subject was closed.

Buffy glanced over to Willow. How the hell did Anya do that? Willow could only offer a confused shrug which caused the slayer to groan slightly before heading once more for the door.

As she left into the late afternoon, Buffy heard Andrew exclaim on last time, “Obi-Wan and Spock?!”

There weren’t many people out that afternoon, which was fine by her. She really didn’t feel like dealing with a lot of people right at that moment, and just wanted to get home where her mother was waiting. Buffy almost felt like she had when she was still in school and had to hurry home directly after because she was grounded for some reason or another. Of course, the baby kicking inside of her quickly reminded the slayer that this was not the case.

She passed in front of the bank downtown, just down the road from the movie house that she and her friends had spent a lot of time at the summer between her senior year of high school and freshman year of college. Xander had thought the marathons would take her mind off of Angel’s departure, but the theater itself only reminded her of him. Still did, but at least it didn’t hurt anymore to think of him.

The slayer was so lost in her own thoughts that she had failed to see the man walking towards her who was concentrating on a piece of paper he carried. The two inevitably ran into one another, nearly knocking Buffy to the ground and causing the man to drop what he was reading.

He grabbed for the pregnant woman he had bumped into so she wouldn’t fall, all the while rattling, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“Geez, sorry,” Buffy said over his words.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you-?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

They both spotted the paper that had landed next Buffy’s foot and went for it at the same time, causing the two adults to knock their heads against one another. A pair of twin groans echoed on the street from the contact, as the blonde reached up and touched the side of her forehead. The man she had run into did the same, then laughed softly. He held up his hand to tell her that he was going to go for the paper, then retrieved it.

“I’m sorry about that, Miss,” he apologized again. “I should have been looking where I was going.”

“No, I was the one spacing. It was my fault.”

“Well, I suppose if no one was hurt, it doesn’t really matter,” he smiled.

Buffy looked over the man before her who was finding so much amassment in their little accident. He was about Xander’s height and build, but was wearing a suit that her friend couldn’t even afford in his dreams. He was an older man as well, probably about as old as her mother had been when they moved to Sunnydale all those years ago. His hair was thinning and receding further and further north and he reminded her a lot of her father, Hank.

“Hey, maybe running into you was a good thing,” he went on. “I kind of gotten myself turned around and maybe you can point me in the right direction.”

“You got lost in Sunnydale?” Buffy asked, raising her eyebrow skeptically. At his sheepish smile and shrug, the slayer added, “Wow. That takes some real skill there.”

“What can I say? My wife says that I would get lost on my way to the mailbox.” He then looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and then handed it over to the pregnant blonde, who found an address written on it. A very familiar address. “Could you please tell me how to get to Crawford Street from here?”

Buffy stared at the paper, looked up at the man, then up at the sky just to be sure that the sun was still out and she wasn’t talking to a vampire. Well, her slayer senses weren’t going haywire telling her he was one, or even a demon for that matter; but he wanted to go to the mansion! Angelus’ mansion! That could only lead to evil things…right?

“You’re heading to the mansion there?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was prying but not really succeeding.

The man laughed again. Apparently that wasn’t the first time he had been asked that.

“Um, yeah. My wife and I just moved into the place. And yes, we’ve heard the stories about it being haunted and a place of evil, and no, we don’t believe it. The only thing evil I can find about the place was that ugly, life-size, gargoyle statue in the garden. I mean, I know my wife has brought home some hideous looking art work before, but whoever bought that thing must have been blind! But I guess it does keep the animals away from my wife’s roses.”

Buffy smiled nervously. Oh, God, she’d forgotten they’d moved Acathla into the garden after Angel’s return. Now the statue that could potentially open a portal to hell was being used as a glorified scarecrow? Oh, the guys were going to love this.

“Well, if you can just point me in that direction, I would be very appreciative,” he went on, asking for her help once more.

“Oh, um, yeah.”

She turned away from him and pointed the way for him, all the while making a mental note to keep an eye on anyone who would willingly move into the old place. When she was done, Buffy turned back and saw a relieved look on the man’s face.

“Thank you so much. If I’m late for dinner, my wife’s going to kill me.” He seemed to consider the woman who had just helped him for a moment, then extended his hand out to her. “I’m Kenneth. Kenneth Shelton.”

“Buffy,” she answered, plastering a fake smile on her face as she took his hand in hers.

“Well, Buffy, it was nice meeting you. And thanks again for the directions.” He began to walk the way she had told him, but stopped and turned back to the blonde. “I’ll see you around sometime?”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” she agreed.

He smiled again, then continued on his way.

“Geez, dead for seven years and she’s still got guys hitting on her? Now that takes some real talent.”

Buffy spun around to face the voice, her eyes wide as she forgot all about Kenneth Shelton. No. It couldn’t be.

She stood leaning against the bank, a smug smile on her face. Her dark hair fell onto her shoulders in loose curls, giving her the appearance of someone much younger than she actually was. Of course, the low riding jeans and tight gray t-shirt didn’t help much either. She looked just like Buffy remembered. The only thing about her that looked remotely old were her brown eyes, but that should be expected of slayers. The blonde knew hers were very much the same way.

With a sigh, Buffy said, “Hello, Faith.”

**********

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