Kenneth sighed as he walked out into the late afternoon, the heat hitting the middle-aged man hard and causing him to clear his throat. It was an unnatural heat; nothing like a June afternoon should be like. Yes, summer and heat go together, hand in hand, but not like this. He couldn’t even imagine it being this hot on the surface of the sun itself.

Kenneth frowned as he walked into one of the gardens and found his wife sitting in front of the large statue yet again. The concrete that had been poured to make pathways through the flower beds had steam sizzling up from the water that had accidentally leaked onto it when the gardens had been watered. It appeared hell itself was trying to break free from under his lovely bride’s feet, and yet she failed to notice. She didn’t even seem to care that her fashionable outfit had started to cling to her body, which really caused Mr. Shelton’s concern about Diana to rise.

“Darling,” he called, trotting up behind her. “It’s awfully hot. Why don’t you come inside with me? I’ll have Nathaniel bring us some lemonade, and we can look in on Travers and his-.”

“He’s coming soon.” She rose to her feet and continued to stare at the statue. Then, she turned to face her husband, her face neutral, if not a bit excited. “Very soon.”

“Philip?”

“Our son,” Diana corrected, unable to stop the smile that appeared on her lips. She glanced over her shoulder to the sculpture, as if it had given her this wonderful news and she couldn’t thank it enough. “He’ll be here on the solstice.”

“The solstice!” When she nodded her head, he hurried forward, grabbed her by the arms, and forced her to turn and look at him again. “That’s tomorrow. Are you absolutely positive?”

She smiled at him, a hint of seduction on her lips.

“As sure as I am that the sun will be burning when he arrives.”

Lazily, she rolled her head towards the cliff that overlooked the town below. Pulling out of his grasp, she took a few steps forward for a better view, her eyes sparkling darkly as she spoke.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? The day Travers’ Angel arrived, the world froze for the pure snow to fall and greet her. And that star shone in the night sky to tell the world that a champion for good had arrived. Funny how one man, one that was supposed to help save the world by helping her, changed all that because of a taste of power, isn’t it?”

“Power is intoxicating,” Kenneth said with a shrug. “We know that.”

“Yes, it’s always about the power,” Diana agreed in a low voice. She sighed loudly, then turned back to her husband. “And now, thanks to that wonderful man, that little Angel is going to help bring us ours. One to save.”

“One to end.” He grinned, taking a hold of his wife’s waist and pulling her against him. Dropping his face next to her ear, the middle-aged man whispered as if it was the most seductive thing in the world. “One to freeze.”

“And one to burn.” She growled before capturing her lips with his.

**********

Sebastian frowned as he watched the couple in the garden from his perch in the second story window. He hadn’t heard what they had said, not being this far away; plus, with the air-conditioning and fans running throughout the manor, it would be nearly impossible to hear them even if they were yelling. However, the boy knew what Diana had told Kenneth. She had faced him long enough for Bastian to catch it.

They were out of time. He was out of time.

Glancing over his shoulder, the young boy looked at the old man sitting at the desk.

Damn him. How many lives had to be ruined or lost to give him what he wanted? Ten? Ten thousand? The whole world? And for what?

Power. That’s what Diana had said, and, for once, Sebastian agreed with her. Every single one of them was in it for the power, and none of them seemed to realize that they would never get it.

They were all puppets, not puppet masters. Travers pulled his strings. The old man had foolishly attached himself to the couple in the garden, so they pulled his. And, from somewhere out there, something was pulling theirs. It was an endless succession of puppeteers, all of them using the others to gain the power.

Well, Pinocchio was tired of this show. Jiminy had come into his life, and instead of listening to the conscious, he had let it be crushed and turned into something no better than him. Not anymore. It was time to cut the strings and become a real boy.

It was also time for him to stop watching those stupid Disney movies.

**********

There were things in life that nature just did not intend to mix: jocks and band members, plaid and poke-o-dots, Star Trek fans and Star War fans. These things just did not play well together. They were mismatches. Objects of the universe that were best left as far away from each other as possible, yet they always ended up being thrown together in the end. Together, they made things wrong. They made things uncomfortable. They made things unbearable for those caught in the cross fire. But none of these were as bad as a pregnant woman in the middle of summer.

“Ugh! Hot!” Buffy whined loudly.

Throwing the thin sheet off her body, she rolled over onto her side. The small fan set up beside the bed was now blowing directly in her face before twisting to move down the length of her body. It helped a little…very little. Okay, hardly at all. Her mother’s old room still felt like a sweat box, even with the AC turned all the way down, the fans turned all the way up, and the considerable lack of clothing.

The living arrangements had changed over the past month, trying to accommodate everyone who was now calling Revello Drive home. Dylan and Dawn had gotten to keep theirs, but the rest of them had spent the better part of a month trying to adjust to their new rooms.

Joyce had given her daughter and Spike her old bedroom, claiming that they would need the bigger room for when the baby comes so they could fit a crib in there. Buffy had felt bad about taking it, but the older woman had also pointed out that it made more sense because she was usually in LA or New York anyway. She was more of a guest now than a resident, and they needed the space.

Another reason her mother had insisted on the couple taking her room was because it was connected to Dawn’s. Once she moved back to campus in the fall, they were going to make her room into the nursery. Well, she wasn’t so much moving back to campus as moving in with Connor in a few months, but they hadn’t told Spike that yet. With any luck, they never would either.

Joyce herself had moved down the hall into the old storage room across the hall from Dylan. It was much smaller, barely more than a closet with a window. But once the junk had been moved to the attic, the twin bed fitted into the room nicely and she still had a little space to put her stuff.

And Angel was crashing down in the basement, Spike’s old place of residence. Buffy knew he didn’t like it down there - and that Spike didn’t like him being here period - but he had to make due with what they had. Her ex had stayed on after bringing Dylan home, per her request, especially after they had found out why Faith was there. Throw in the fact that Buffy was about to give birth, and it would probably take an act of God to make the soulful champion leave. And that only came with a probably, leaving heavily towards ‘still not a chance in hell.’

“It’s a heat wave, love,” Spike said with a grin, tugging on his black T-shirt before sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. “It tends to get a little warm durin’ those.”

“Shut up!” Buffy glared at him. “It’s your fault anyway.”

“Mine?”

“Yes, yours.”

“Don’t remember orderin’ up the heat, pet,” he said, not following her line of thinking at all.

The slayer made a showing of rolling her eyes before pushing herself up to a sitting position, mainly resting on her elbows.

“Not that, you bloodsucking moron. This.” She swept one hand over her stomach, which looked like it was ready to pop. “You didn’t tell me you could go around having all the kids you wanted.”

“How the bloody hell was I supposed to know?” Spike exclaimed, an equal amount of amusement and aggravation in his tone. Though his eyes were slightly narrowed, his trademark smirk played on his lips as he continued. “Besides, I didn’t get you there all by my lonesome, kitten. As I recall, you were pretty involved yourself.”

“I’m still never going to let you near me again once bitty here is born.”

“Bitty?” he replied chuckling. “I think you’ve been hangin’ around us Brits too long, pet.”

She couldn’t help but grin back.

“No disagreement here. My life has been nothing but one big British invasion since I got called. First Giles. Then the Council. Wesley. You. It’s a regular whose who of crusty English guys.”

“Watch it, Slayer.”

“I’m just saying that I guess I was bound to pick something up. Okay, I mean language wise, not…what you’re thinking.” She smiled as he began to laugh. “I mean, Giles is like my dad, only, you know, way better than my real one.” Then adding as an after thought, she said, “And we’re practically married.”

The playful air they had been enjoying suddenly wasn’t so playful anymore at the mention of the ‘M’ word. To be truthful, neither one of them had ever really thought about it. The very idea sounded rather ludicrous.

Spike was a vampire and vampires don’t marry…anyone. They mate, which was close to the same thing, but different at the same time. With a mate, you didn’t have a big ceremony, with family and friends there to watch - at least not if you’re normal.

And, while it was recognized by the demon community, it wasn’t in the human. A W2 form doesn’t read “Married, Single, Mated” on it. And one certainly didn’t go up to old friends and says, ‘Oh, we got mated last October. We claimed each other on my mother’s kitchen floor after having mind blowing sex. You really should have been there. It was quite lovely.’ Okay, so maybe Anya would say something like that, but normal people didn’t.

Buffy shifted on the bed, feeling even more uncomfortable than before. Maybe because the sad thing was, part of her actually did want to get married.

She just kept thinking about what her grandmother would say about this. That, without that little gold band, they were only playing house, even if they already did have one kid and were about to have another. They could still walk away from each other and feel that there would be no consequences because, well, they were never married. Practically wasn’t the same thing. Mated wasn’t the same thing. No matter how much they would like it to be.

Spying the digital clock next to the bed, Buffy sighed. Faith would be here soon to pick up Angel and Spike for patrol. Not that anyone expected a lot of activity in this kind of heat. Still, they would go out, do a sweep of the town, then head back to the Magic Box to research with the others for any info on Faith’s cult.

So far, they had come up with a whole lot of nothing. No names, no way to know what they want. The Brazilian police didn’t even know what they had really been called; they just referred to them with the name the newspapers called them. Buffy couldn’t remember what it was called in Portuguese; just that Giles said it roughly translated to Followers of the Evil Spirit.

The only other thing they knew was that the head honchos had been a couple of North Americans, but that was it. Lots to go on there. Well, at least that safely eliminated the British people in town as being the people they needed to take out. For that anyway.

Buffy knew Spike would really rather not go out with them, he never did, but especially tonight. Her doctor was coming over to give her a quick check-up, see how things were moving along, and he didn’t like missing those in case anything was wrong.

Plus there was the fact that Dylan had caught a cold somehow. Buffy wasn’t sure how the girl picked it up, but the poor kid had spent the better part of the day coughing and sneezing with no relief in sight.

His girls were sick and uncomfortable, and Spike didn’t like leaving them in that state. But it was better if he went on patrol because, as she said, there was a cult out there, not to mention possibly Travers lurking about.

They would be fine here. Willow was coming over later to hang out with her and Dylan while her mom went to the gallery, and Dawn was at the Magic Box with the others. And, for extra protection, Angel had pretty much permanently posted Connor in their living room while he was out. Especially when both he and Spike were gone.

“Faith’s going to be here soon,” she finally said, turning her attention back to him. “You should, you know, be getting ready.”

“Would really rather stay here with you, kitten,” he answered, a flash of relief passing through his eyes before he settled into a more relaxed tone.

“We’ll be fine.” The blonde placed her hand on top of her enlarged stomach. “Connor will be downstairs. Willow will be here too. Besides, you’ll be gone for what? Two hours? I was fine without you for a whole month. I think I can survive a couple of hours.”

He smirked at her as she grinned at him. For a guy who had once lived by ‘Blood, guts, and glory. Sod everything else’ he sure did worry a lot.

Leaning over, he kissed her softly and felt the grin grow into a smile.

“Mmmm. Cold,” she said, pulling him a little closer.

*********

Dylan sat on her bed, staring at her computer screen as she read the message that had been sent. So that was the plan? Well, she could go along with it.

She had been playing sick for the past week, knowing that it would be happening soon. Now that it was ‘going down,’ so to speak, she couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious. Well, it would all be over soon, she just had to keep telling herself that. It would all be over and done with soon.

It was easy enough for them to believe she was indeed sick, considering the sharp contrast between inside and outside their home. Buffy had it cold enough in the house to hang meat in the hallways, and outside it was so hot that she, Van, and Jessie had actually been able to fry an egg on the concrete. The rest of the Scoobies wouldn’t even come in the house anymore unless they had too. And Dawn had been practically living at the Magic Box or at Connor’s in an effort to escape the freezer they called home. So, the idea of Dylan actually getting a cold in the middle of summer really wasn’t all that far fetched for anyone to believe.

Closing her laptop, she glanced down to the end of her bed were Sid had made himself comfortable. The solid black cat had its paws tucked under his large body, and looked like he was trying to sleep like that. Reaching over, she tried to pet the animal, but, as soon as he spotted her hand, the black tabby recoiled. Her ever faithful cat bowed his back, his fur standing on end as she tried to touch him, all the while hissing and growling dangerously at the young girl. He even took a swipe at her for good measure, forcing Dylan to retreat her hand.

A deep frown, full of hurt, found its way onto her face before she forcefully kicked the cat off her bed, and sent it searching for safety. A moment later it seemed, her father opened the door, and the house cat took off like a black streak of lightening into the hallway.

“Bloody, soddin’ cat!” her father swore as the animal escaped between his feet, nearly causing him to trip. He then turned his attention to his daughter, who was still sitting on her bed, looking as innocent as possible. “What the hell is the matter with him?”

“He’s been acting crazy all day,” she told him dismissively. Remembering that she was supposed to have a cold, she sniffled and made her voice sound more congested. “I don’t think he likes Angel being around.”

“Who does?” Spike shrugged, before glancing down the hall to where the cat had run off to.

That stupid creature had been acting bonkers ever since the Poppet came home. Of course, that was how long the Poof had been here too. And if that pet really belonged to his family, it should hate Peaches good and proper.

“Dad?” Dylan asked, bring father back to her attention. She gave him a curious look, silently asking ‘Is there something you want?’

“Oh, um, ‘bout to head out for the night. Wanted to check on you before I left.”

Making a perfect ‘o’ with her mouth, Dylan watched as he quickly walked across the room to her.

“Angel and Faith going with you?” she asked, knowing full well the answer to her question already.

“Yeah,” he sighed, flopping down next to her, which made the young girl bounce in the air a little before settling again on the bed. “Figure we can use Mr. Extra Strong Hold Hair Gel as bait while me and the Second String finish ‘em off.”

“Why do you call her the Second String? Faith is the slayer.”

“Correction, pip. Your mum is the slayer. Faith is a slayer. She’ll never come close to Buffy. Trust me, I fought enough of their kind to know.”

“Don’t you mean my kind?” Dylan asked.

They all knew the prophecies well enough. She might just be a kid now, but, someday, the little girl beside him was supposed to grow up to be some end-all slayer. She was showing potential already, and she was only eight.

That didn’t mean that he had to like it. The very idea of his daughter being called made Spike’s blood run colder than it already was. He knew the life of a slayer very well, he had taken two and loved the third. Hard, violent, brutal, and generally short pretty much summed it up.

Even if Buffy and Faith never showed it anymore, the first three described their existence well. It was a fluke that they had managed to live this long…well, that Faith had. Buffy…they still weren’t sure about her.

“Naw, pet. You’re a different sort of breed all together.”

Spike failed to notice the crestfallen face that crossed over her features briefly.

Different sort of breed? Meaning, she’s not even human enough to be a slayer? God, what was she then? More importantly, what did her own father think she was?

Sighing, the soulful vampire glanced towards her window and found that the sun had finally set. That probably meant that Peaches and the Slayer Sequel were waiting on him.

“Guess I better be goin’ then,” he said, rising to his feet. A thought crossed his mind before he asked, “Who left the hall window’s blinds up?”

“Oh, um, sorry,” Dylan apologized sheepishly. “I was really cold earlier, and, um, I must have left the blinds pulled up after I, ah, closed the window.”

She watched as he seemed to consider her answer carefully, all the while presenting him with the innocent smile of a child. After several seconds, he shrugged and Dylan had to fight from heaving a sigh of relief.

“Just be more careful next time, pip. Some of us ain’t so sun friendly.”

“I will,” she lied sweetly.

That satisfied him on the subject. Spike then bent down and gently kissed her on the forehead. His lips were like ice against her skin, and Dylan couldn’t fight the shiver that traveled up her spin from the added coldness he had introduced. This time, he did notice his daughter’s discomfort and pulled away quickly.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” the vampire said, before grabbing her nearby long sleeve shirt and draping it over her shoulders. She smiled as he quickly rubbed his hands up and down her now covered arms. “Try and keep warm ‘til then.”

“I will,” she said truthfully this time.

Snorting a laugh, Spike gave his daughter one last look, then turned to head downstairs.

Dylan wasn’t sure what made her do it, what made her call out to him. All she knew was that she had been watching him go, and then suddenly heard herself speak.

“Dad.”

Spike paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder to his little girl. There was something in her face, like she wanted to tell him something but couldn’t quiet find her voice. After several seconds, Dylan jumped off the bed, hurried across the room, and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

“You love me, right?” she asked from left field.

“What? Course I do.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what,” he repeated before pulling her away to look in her face. “Do you have a fever or something?”

Well, she wasn’t flushed by what he could tell, she had been sounding better when they were talking, but that didn’t mean that she still wasn’t really sick.

“No, I’m okay,” she said, shaking her head to accent her answer.

“Are you sure? I could stay in tonight with you and your mum if you want.”

“Naw, it’s fine. I just-.”

“Yo, Blondie! Let’s get a move on here!” Faith bellowed from downstairs. Even if Spike didn’t dye his hair anymore, she hadn’t given up the nickname. Probably never would either.

“You better go,” Dylan sighed, stepping away from his grip. “She sounds irritated.”

“She’s a slayer, pip. They’re always irritated.”

“Even Mom?”

“Especially your mum,” he said grinning before becoming gentle again. “Be good for her tonight, eh.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll see you when I get home, then.”

“Alright. Bye.”

Spike nodded his farewell, then took off after the voice that had called for him.

Dylan stood in her doorway for a little while, then walked across the hall to her grandmother’s room and peeked out the window that overlooked the front yard. She watched the trio of adults go down the front walk, Faith out front while her father and Angel began to bicker behind her.

Though she hadn’t heard Connor arrive, she knew that he had to be there for them to go ahead and leave. Willow would be there soon, and so would that doctor friend of hers. Not that many people in the house. Nothing they couldn’t handle.

No matter what, her father’s voice echoed in her mind, causing Dylan to sigh. Well, looks like they’ll get to test that theory tonight.

**********

Dr. Maya Collins was a practical woman. She understood that if you did this, that would be the outcome. If she mixed blue with yellow, green would be the result. If she put oil and water together, the oil would rise to the top and not mix with the water below. If she put sage and motherwort together, it would…do something she didn’t know anything about because her mother would never teach her such magic. Um, yeah…

The point was, Maya’s world was pretty rigid; one might even call it black and white. Certain things went together, certain things did not, and never shall that line be crossed.

Then she met the Summers’.

If there ever was a gray spot in this world, it was 1630 Revello Drive. Souled vampires, miracle children, magical Keys, ex-demons, ex-witches, and slayers - one of whom was pregnant with a vampire’s child! - called this place home. Yeah, the world definitely got grayer around that house.

She never knew what to expect when she came to this seemingly normal home. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised to walk in and finding a ‘Reformed Demons Anonymous’ meeting going on or Dracula sitting at the kitchen counter, spilling his guts (metaphorically, of course) to Joyce. Yes, a place like this could only exist on the hellmouth.

Maya sat in front of her patient, checking her over to make sure that everything was indeed all right. Generally, she would have made a woman in her condition come into her office, but she understood that Buffy was…special.

While Maya herself might be well versed in things that were magical and understood that sometimes there were more to things than they seem, her well respected co-workers generally did not. As well educated as they might be, none of them knew what a slayer was, let alone what her physiological readings would be, carrying a child that, by all things she had ever been taught, should not exist. So, she would have to go back to the old times when doctors used to make house calls for this case, and pray to God that no questions would be asked if she had to do the delivery here.

“Everything appears to be looking good,” the physician informed the slayer with a smile, pulling the stethoscope out of her ears and placing it back around her neck. “I’d say you probably have a couple of more weeks to go before the little guy is ready to make his big début. But it’ll be here before you know it.”

“God, I hope so,” the blonde said, pushing herself into a more comfortable position in her bed. “I don’t know how much longer I can go before this heat causes me to spontaneously combust and burn the house down.”

The doctor offered a sympathetic smile as she began to gather her things together. Being pregnant in the middle of summer was always hard, especially for someone as far along as Buffy. The fact that it was one of the hottest June’s on record didn’t help the matter either. But Buffy seemed to handling it well enough. Of course, the fact that it was only twelve degrees in the house might have something to do with it.

Lord, Maya didn’t know how the others handled it. Well, Spike and - What was his name? Gabriel? Michael? It was something heavenly. Oh, that’s right. - Angel had an unfair advantage, what with the no body heat thing. As for the rest of them…she hadn’t even been there an hour and already couldn’t feel her fingers. She had no idea how they could take it.

Well, she supposed they weren’t tonight. When she had arrived, Willow had been the one to answer the door and the only other person she had seen was that Connor boy, sitting on the couch, staring at the TV. If the others were here, they hadn’t made themselves known.

“I’m going to go ahead and schedule an appointment for next Wednesday, just to be on the safe side. Is that alright?”

“Yeah. I’ll be here.”

“Good. I’ll see you Wednesday, then.”

Maya headed out into the hallway, pulling the bedroom door closed behind her. Once Buffy couldn’t see her, she freely shuttered from the cold, before bringing her cupped hands to her face and blowing into them.

“We found a good pair of gloves and a jacket generally works the best,” she heard Willow say from nearby.

The fellow redhead looked up and found the younger woman standing at the top of the stairs, a sympathetic smile on her face as she dug her hands a little deeper into the thin coat she had on. Maya returned it, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to keep warm.

“So, is everything okay?” the onetime witch asked nervously. “I don’t need to, you know, go beep Spike or anything, right?”

“No, everything’s fine,” Maya assured her. “Where is everyone tonight anyway? Usually I’m tripping over people when I have to do Buffy’s check-ups.”

“Yeah, it does get kind of crowded in here,” Willow agreed. “Um, let’s see. Joyce had some art gallery thing tonight, but she’ll be back soon. Dawn’s at the Magic Box with the others doing the whole research thing on Faith’s cult people. And Spike and, um, Angel headed out to patrol with her tonight ‘cause, ah, well, the town’s not making much with the nasties, so that can’t be a good thing. That’s why Connor’s downstairs. You know, holding down the fort ‘til daddy and grandsire get home. Oh, and Dill’s actually here, in her room. She kind of caught a cold.”

The older witch couldn’t help but laugh. From the story Willow had told her, the child has been dragged nearly all over the world by some psychotic Watcher, only to be miraculously rescued in LA by her father’s grandsire. And now that she’s safe at home, she gets sick. Poor kid. She really did have the worst luck Maya had ever heard of.

“So, Buffy’s doing okay then?” Willow asked again, as if she were afraid that the slayer’s condition had changed in the last five seconds.

“She’s fine. It’s like I told her, it won’t be long now.” Maya’s face became a little more serious and worried as she glanced over her shoulder at the door, then pulled the younger redhead a little closer. “However, I do have a few concerns.”

“Like?”

“Like how much stress she’s had over the course of this pregnancy. It wasn’t good for her or the baby, but I had hoped that since Dylan came home, she would finally be able to relax a bit. But with her still having to watch out for this Travers guy and this cult…She needs to be able to rest. The stress can trigger early labor this late in her pregnancy. I know kids born this early have a high probability of survival, but I really rather not chance it.”

“W-what do you suggest?”

“Try to keep things as stress free as possible for her for the next couple of weeks. Make her feel like she’s safe, that her family and friends are safe. That seems to be her main concerns, which is understandable, all things considered.”

Maya began to walk down the stairs, Willow following close behind.

The doctor paused at the front door, and said, “If her stress level doesn’t come down by the next time I see her, I’m going to put her on constant bed rest. Is that understood?”

The younger redhead nodded her head quickly. “Diminishing of the stress. Gotcha. This will be a stress free zone from now on.”

“I hope so,” Maya said, opening the door, the heat from outside hitting her in the face like she had just opened the door to the oven. Stepping out into the summer night, she went on, “Tell the others what I said. Okay?”

“I will.”

“Good. Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

Sighing, the ex-witch closed the door behind her friend.

Keep the stress down? On the hellmouth?! God, she might as well asked them to spin the earth backwards while simultaneously finding a cure for cancer, bringing peace to the Middle East, and getting every gross-out, bug-eating, one-step-closer-to-getting-someone-killed, reality-but-not reality television show banded from the air. And she was talking about Buffy’s stress, which was even harder to get rid of.

“Buffy’s stressed?” a small voice asked from above, causing Willow to jump slightly.

She turned around quickly and found Dylan sitting high up on the stairs the two redheads had just descended from. The girl’s feet rested on the step below the one she sat on, bringing her knees high against her chest as she carefully watched the woman below. A chill traveled down Willow’s spin at the look in the child’s eye, like she was a lioness, hiding in the high grass of the Sahara, waiting to pounce on her prey. As long as Willow had known her, she had never seen the predatory manner in the girl on the stairs. The witch had never once believed that Dylan had inherited any of Spike’s demon, but, now, she had to wonder.

“Um, yeah,” the redhead answered, carefully walking to the staircase, but stopping at the bottom stair. “Maya said it’d be a good idea to, you know, try to keep things stress free for her for awhile.”

“Oh,” Dylan said, her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ as she nodding in understanding. Then, the child blinked and the predator was suddenly gone and had been replaced by the usually happy, smiling Dylan. Jumping back onto her feet, the girl turned and jogged back up the stairs, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going to be in my room.”

Willow stared up the staircase for several seconds after Dylan had disappeared down the upstairs hall. That was really weird. Maybe they should consider about what Angel and Giles had been saying about getting Dylan someone to talk to. But she wouldn’t bring it up to Buffy right now. That’s just more stress, and the slayer didn’t need that at the moment.

Sighing once more, the redhead went to find Connor and tell him what Maya had told her.

**********

Giles sighed as he pulled off his glasses, and held the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to will the words in the book before him to stop blurring together.

Most of the gang had gathered in his old shop for yet another research party that was quickly turning out like the rest of them. There just didn’t seem to be anything out there on these people Faith had tracked here, other than what had happened down in Buenos Aires. The ritual used to kill those people didn’t match anything the onetime Watcher had ever seen before. It was almost like they had just butchered them for the hell of it, but why?

He looked up from the literature and glanced at the people who were searching as well.

Dawn sat on her regular perch on the stairs that lead up to the loft where he kept his dark magic books. The young woman was deeply engrossed in whatever she was reading. Giles couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps she had slipped a magazine into the book to only give the appearance of doing research. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.

Andrew was sitting on the stair that leads into the show room, playing cards with Van and Jessie. Xander had said that it was hard to find a baby-sitter on a Friday night, especially when you had the reputation like his two kids did. Giles could understand anyone’s reluctance to watch those two little…um. Well, he supposed as long as they weren’t doing anything destructive, it was alright.

Xander, Anya, and Oz were at the table, sifting through the large box of books that had arrived that day. They had come earlier that evening, much to Giles’ relief. He had phoned Catherine nearly a week ago, asking her to send some of her father’s books that contained references cult activity that she thought might be helpful. He most certainly hadn’t expected her to send as many as she had. Maybe when this was all over, he could sort through them properly. Yes, he would enjoy that.

“Giles,” the Watcher heard a small voice call.

He turned to find Cash sitting in front of the counter with toys strewn around him and one of the new books opened in his lap. For a moment, Giles felt the color drain from his face as his eyes focused in on the coloring box beside the boy and flashes of ruined text appeared before the old man’s eyes. However, the boy didn’t seem interested in marking in the book, but was curious about something he had found inside it.

“Wha’s this?” the four-year-old asked, pointing to a picture.

Quickly, Giles placed the text he had been reading onto the counter and carefully knelt next to the little boy. He took the book from him under the pretence that he wanted a better look, but truth was he was afraid the child might have the sudden urge to be destructive and ruin Catherine’s book. Smiling nervously at the boy as he stood so he could still see the picture, Giles adjusted his glasses and peered at the drawing.

“That is what is called the Substantia Seco. See, it says that right here.” He held the book closer to him so he could see the caption below where the name was written, even though the child wasn’t able to read yet.

“Is it bad?” the youngest Harris asked innocently.

“Oh, yes, it’s very bad. You see, it’s a symbol that some very bad men used a long time ago. It was to show they were part of a group that wanted to help this evil demon. You see that shape of the moon there? That’s supposed represents the darkness of the creature, the demon. And that funny shape with it that looks like an eye? That comes from the idea that the eyes are the windows to the soul, or the essence of a person. The reason they’re not touching each other is because the demon and his essence were separated.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” the older Watcher lied easily. There was no reason to tell the child and he didn’t want to scare him.

“Well, wha’ happened to the men?”

“You don’t have worry about them. They died out long before even your mother was born.”

“Oh,” the boy said with shrug before flopping back down where he had been before, apparently forgetting all about the symbol before he even hit the ground.. Scooping up two of his G.I. Joe’s, he began to make them have an imaginary gun fight, complete with sound effects to annoy the adults.

Giles sighed deeply as he pushed himself up and placed the text high on the counter so the child could not reach it again. When Cash made a loud ‘BOOM’ sound for a bomb only he could see, the Watcher momentarily wonder how much Scotch he had left hidden in the back of the store.

**********

“God, wake up already!” Faith said with a groan, as she hoping off the headstone before starting to pace in front of the newly dug grave. “What’d they do? Give him a freakin’ sleepin’ pill after they drained ‘em?”

“Some dig their way out quicker than others,” Angel said. “Took me nearly two hours before I hit the surface.”

“That’s ‘cause they wanted to bury you real deep in hopes that’d you wouldn’t be able get out.” Spike placed a cigarette between his lips before lighting the stick. He took a long, satisfying drag off it before adding in a puff of smoke, “Ain’t that right, Angel Boy?”

“Shut up, Spike.” Angelus growled dangerously, which only caused the younger vamp’s smirk to grow. “Besides, didn’t Buffy tell you to stop smoking…again?”

“Don’t see her around, now do you?”

“I hope not. Not after the condition you got her in.”

“Oh, yeah, I got her knocked up good and proper, I did. And I had her screamin’ when I did it too.”

Spike knew it was a dangerous game to be playing with the older vampire, but that had never stopped him before. It was like teasing a rabid dog that was tied to a tree. He was inching closer and closer to the wild animal, trying to get as close as he could to make it attack. Only problem was, that part of his brain that told him ‘too far’ didn’t work, and he usually ended up being mauled. And when Angelus tore in, he didn’t let go for a good long while.

“Girl finally knows what a real lover is supposed to be like. Rest of ‘em were just down right inadequate in comparison.”

Too far! Too far!!

“That’s it, you son of-.”

“Hey!” Faith shouted, glaring at the two vampires. “You guys chill before I lay you both out. Cause, I’m not goin’ back and tellin’ B ‘Sorry girl, but the only way to see your ex and your kids’ daddy is by lookin’ over into Sid’s litter box!’ Now I’m hot and cranky, so can I just dust this guy in peace?”

“‘Sid’s litter box?’” Angel repeated slowly.

“‘Your kids’ daddy?’ What does this look like? Jerry Springer?” Spike asked heatedly.

Faith rolled her dark eyes at the two. God, how in the hell did B stand the both of them in the same house? If it’d been her, she would have killed one of them already just to stop the constant fighting. Yeah, it was funny for awhile, but give it a rest already.

The dirt on the fresh grave began to stir and the brunette slayer sighed gratefully. “Finally! A vamp I can kill!”

A claw like hand shot up through the dirt, and held there for a second. It reminded her all those movies she had seen where they thought they had defeated the bad guy by dropping something on them, only to have his hand explode upward out of the debris in preparation of a sequel. Only this was the one and only curtain call this guy was ever going to have.

His other hand pushed out of the dirt, and soon he had pulled his whole body out from the grave. He pushed himself to his feet and brushed some of the dirt off his nice suit. Then, he slowly looked upward, his face ridged and his eyes burning yellow as he stared at the woman before him. She was smiling brightly at him, with just a hint of mischief in her eyes, while she stood posed with her stake ready to strike.

“Hello,” Faith said, sounding like that kid from Home Alone before he put the hurt on the two criminals. The slayer herself jabbed the stake forward into the vamp’s chest, never even given him a chance to understand what was going on.

“Didn’t put up much of a fight, did he?” Spike said, sounding rather disappointed as he stood up from the headstone he had been sitting on.

“Yeah, well, when you’re as good as I am, they generally don’t.”

She stretched her arms over her before crossing them and holding them against her head for a moment, with a smug ‘I’m the best’ look on her face all the while. However, her features fell as quickly as her arms when she spotted something behind the two vampires. Alert to her sudden mood change, the two men spun around, ready for a fight if need should be.

What they found was an old man and a young boy.

**********

Connor sighed as he walked through the downstairs portion of the house and into the kitchen. The witch was there, standing over a stove as she waited for the pot to signal that the water was boiling. She looked peculiar in the pair of jeans and jacket, an outfit that was completely inappropriate if she planned on walking outside. The redhead would burn alive if she did. However, in the house that might as well double as a meat locker, it didn’t seem so wrong.

The little red kettle began to whistle a high pitched squeal. Willow quickly turned off the stove and lifted it from the hot burner.

“Oh, goddess!” she yelped, surprised to find Connor watching her from the other side of the island. He had nearly made her drop the kettle, and raised her heart rate considerable. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry,” he apologized, though the young man didn’t seem all that sorry if you asked her.

Not that he was the easiest person in the world to read. In fact, besides anger and evenness, Willow wasn’t even sure if he knew how to express emotion on his face. Sure, Dawn might get him to smile every once in awhile, or he might grin whenever he knew he was aggravating someone, but, for the most part, he was only bi-emotional. Or that was all he showed at least.

“Didn’t your father ever teach you not to sneak up on people, mister?” the redhead asked, grabbing a couple of cups from the cabinet.

In the back of her mind, she could hear Xander’s voice. Are you kidding? Angel’s kid has to have that sneakiness gene, so they can slip in on someone to scare them or slit their throats. Whichever one he feels like.

“‘Fraid not,” the young man said with a shrug. She dropped the bags of chamomile into the hot water, then began to add honey and sugar. “Who’s the tea for?”

Willow glanced up at him as she finished her task and placed the two cups on the tray.

“One’s for Dill, you know, to help her feel better. The other one is for Buffy, to help her relax. And this-.” Turning around to the still going coffee pot, she poured herself a large mug and placed it on the tray with the others. “Is for me.”

She smiled brightly at him as she picked the tray up, careful to not let the dishes slip.

“We’ll be upstairs if you need us,” Willow said, heading for the staircase.

Connor stood there, listening to her footsteps as she hurried up the stairs, up and down the hall, before finally settling into one room. If he listened closely, he could hear Willow and Buffy talking - probably about what new names the blonde had come up with so far.

Dylan’s room, however, remained absolutely silent, which was very strange. As long as he had known the girl, she had been making some kind of noise; but not tonight. She wasn’t even typing away on that stupid computer, which caused him to frown even deeper. That just wasn’t right. Something had to be wrong.

Connor began to move towards the staircase when he heard something move outside. Stopping dead in his tracks, he glanced over his shoulder to the dark backdoor, as if trying to peer through and see to the other side. He strained to hear anything else, but the only sounds were the neighbors bug zapper and a car traveling Maple Street. Still, he knew something was out there, he could feel it down into his bones. Danger was nearby.

Slowly, he moved to the back door, and wrapped his hand around the doorknob. He tried to see through the glass, but over head light limited his vision, and all he could make out were a few trees and the back fence. Carefully, he opened the door and walked outside, trying his best not to startle whoever or whatever was out here.

Connor’s eyes scanned back and forth in the dark yard that was being illuminated by the porch light, trying his best to find any movement. The stillness was just putting him more on edge. He half expected Freddy or Jason to suddenly jump out from behind the bushes, their weapons held high as they prepare to strike. But that only happened in movies. Here, he needed to be more worried about demons suddenly appearing than psychopaths in Halloween masks.

He finally reached the edge of the deck and carefully peered over it side to darkness below. Something moved.

Connor pounced over the railing and onto it quickly.

Sid growled and hissed loudly, clawing at his capture until he was released.

The cat. He had gotten himself worked up because of the damn cat. Well, won’t Spike and Angel love hearing about-.

A shadow was cast over him from above. Connor turned around just in time to be hit across the face by someone unnaturally strong. He hit the ground hard, dazed by the blow. A silhouette appeared over him, and he blinked from surprise.

“Dylan?”

The girl’s response was to kick him in the head and knocking him out.

**********

Dylan looked down at the young man lying unconscious at her feet. Well, looks like she finally did get the better of him, even if it was in a sneaky sort of way. Then again, sometimes you take the win no matter how it came about.

She momentarily wondered if perhaps she should drag him somewhere more hidden than the bottom of the deck stairs. Then again, Buffy and Willow were both upstairs in her mother’s bedroom, and probably wouldn’t notice. And, if they did, by then it would be too late.

Glancing up, her eyes scanned the foliage that lined most of the backyard. They were there, she could feel them watching her, making sure everything was ready and set to go. Deciding that she could just leave Conner there, the young girl nodded her head once, then headed up into the house, deliberately leaving the backdoor open.

**********

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