Faith flipped on the lights, illuminated the dingy motel room that looked as if it were better left in the dark. The bed, which was still messed up from earlier use, bore what a place like this called a comforter. Strangely, it was an exact match to the curtains that looked as if they could withstand a nuclear blast if they had too. There was an old nineteen inch on a turn table across from the bed, with a remote bolted to the nightstand. The walls were painted a color that Buffy couldn’t decide whether it had originally been yellow or a light brown, and the carpet screamed seventies shag. As she followed the brunette inside, the blonde slayer couldn’t help but feel that it may be a good idea to stop by the hospital to get a shot on her way home.

“Know it’s not much, but it has the essentials. Bed. Bathroom. All the multi-legged company I could want,” the dark-haired woman said with a shrug before flopping down on the edge of her bed.

Buffy frowned as she glanced over at a ratty looking chair next to an equally repulsive table in front of the window. Generally in situations like this she preferred to stand, but, given the fact that her feet felt like they had been racked over broken glass and rocks from standing too long, she decided to chance the furniture and sit. As she lowered herself into the seat, Faith watched with a great deal of interest and amusement.

However, instead of making a comment about the blonde’s current condition, the brunette dropped her head for a moment, and said softly, “I heard about Pickle. I’m sorry.”

“Pickle?” Buffy blinked in confusion. Who said anything about a pickle?

Faith grinned at her, then explained, “Dylan.”

“Oh.”

The blonde slayer still didn’t see the connection, but didn’t ask. Faith had nicknames for everyone, just like Spike, and there was absolutely no telling where she came up with that one for her daughter.

“I’ve kept my ear to the ground, but, you know, demons ain’t that chatty before you kill them. Least, nothin’ useful anyway.”

She sighed as she leaned back on the bed, her hands nervously fidgeting next to her on the comforter. Buffy recognized the motion; Spike did the same thing whenever he wanted a cigarette but couldn’t have one. Deciding that perhaps she was more comfortable the other way, the one time rogue slayer sat back up and leaned forward towards the blonde.

“Last I heard, you guys where headin’ for former Commie Country. Did ya find anything?”

Dropping her eyes from the dark-haired woman’s gaze, Buffy looked down at her swollen belly and began to rub it gently.

“Yeah, we found something,” she said softly, remembering exactly what had happened with perfect clarity. Ignoring the brunette’s frown and questioning eyes, Buffy quickly asked, “What are you doing here, Faith?”

This caused the frown on her fellow slayer’s face to deepen. She and the blonde had never been what you would call ‘the best of friends,’ but she did know Buffy well enough to know that something bad had happened. Faith also knew that there was no way the pregnant slayer was going to tell her anything about it. Buffy was stubborn like that, taking everything onto herself and never sharing for whatever reason. Pickle was the same way.

“It’s a long story, B.”

“I’ve got the time,” Buffy answered.

Drawing in deep breath, the brunette let it out slow before saying, “Little over-God, I guess it’s been eight months ago…Anyway, I was down in Buenos Aries - you know, partyin’, slayin’, the fun stuff - and I came across a pretty nasty group of people. Didn’t think too much about ‘em, just thought they were some wacked-out religious types that thought a little too much of demons for their own good. Tried to tell ‘em, demons are not our friends, but they wouldn’t listen to me. Just kept goin’ on about how ‘the darkness was returning’ and ‘the traitor was giving them the master’ or some shit like that. I kept an eye on ‘em, but, really, they didn’t seem like they did anything but talk. Then the next thing I knew I was hearin’ about a ritualistic killing involvin’ most of the cult. News said it was like Jonestown, if Jonestown was, you know, run by Al Capon.”

Buffy watched as the guilt passed over Faith’s face. The dark-haired slayer then drew in another breath and seemed to shake it off before going on.

“Only survivors were the higher ups. They killed those people to try and raise whatever-the-hell they were trying to raise, then split the second it didn’t work. I found a couple here and there, but they were either dead when I found ‘em or killed themselves the second I asked ‘em anything about it. Which got me thinkin’…”

“It’s not over,” Buffy supplied, following along.

Like she didn’t have enough to worry already; she now had to keep an eye out for a psycho cult? God, her life sucked.

“Let me guess. You think they’re in Sunnydale now?”

“You know the hellmouth, always attractin’ some kind of badness,” Faith said with a small shrug. Upon seeing the look on Buffy’s face, the brunette assured her, “Hey, don’t worry about it, I got this one, B. Might need to borrow the Scoobies for awhile, but I can handle it. You just go, be barefoot in the kitchen, eattin’ pickles and ice cream, or whatever-the-hell it is you pregnant women do.”

Buffy sighed as she sat back in her seat. Faith told her not to worry about it, but how could she not? There was a cult in Sunnydale that killed nearly all its members to raise something, and, now that they were on top of the hellmouth, there was no telling what they could pull out of the ground with that kind of ambition.

Faith said that the hellmouth was what attracted the badness; she forgot to mention that slayers do too, especially Buffy herself. That alone told the blonde to worry, and worry a lot.

**********

Angel stood in the middle of the station, people passing around him to head off to wherever they wanted to go. The sun had only recently set, and he should be just getting out of bed, but instead he found himself in the middle of the Amtrak train station in downtown Los Angeles.

He could safely say one thing, Grand Central Station this place was not. True, there wasn’t really anything wrong with it, but it certainly lacked the glamour. Then, most people flew to L.A. or drove. Trains now a days were thought to be just so…passé.

Angel glanced over to his right and saw Wesley walking along with the flow of people towards the platform area. He was sure if there would be any vamps out there right now, but the ex-Watcher was in search of anything unusual, whatever that might be.

When the brown-haired man disappeared outside, the soulful vampire turned to head deeper into the terminal. If vamps were here, they would probably still be hiding out until they were sure that the sun was down. In a building like this, that could be just about anywhere. Most likely it was in a place marked with ‘Authorized Personal Only.’

He found one of the afore mentioned doors in the back of the station cracked opened. It looked as if someone, a very strong someone, had broken the lock and forced their way in. Angel couldn’t help but frown as he wondered exactly how many employees had ventured back into the dark room to find out what had happened only to end up something’s dinner. Well, there was nothing he could do for them now; he’d just have to watch out for any newly risen fledglings that might have come from their curiosity.

As he himself ventured into the dark room, Angel heard someone say, “Dude, she’s a kid. How far could she have gotten?”

Slowly, the soulful vampire walked between the metal shelves that lined either side of the room and held lost, unclaimed baggage until he came to a small clearing far in the back of the large storage room. Standing there were several male vampires, still in game face. One stood in the middle of the room, looking as if he were trying to calm down the friend who was stalking in front of him. The third one stood off to the side near where the brown-haired champion was, but the vamp didn’t notice him. Since none of them sensed him, he could only assume that they were not that old.

“I mean, chill. We’ll find the little brat,” the one in the center assured his friend.

“We better,” the one with his back to them growled before turning around.

Angel now understood this vamp’s source of anger, a large gash going down the side of his face that was still bleeding. He couldn’t tell whether he lost the eye or not, but one thing was certain, he’d never be able to see out of it again if it was even still there.

“I want that kid to be in pain before I kill her!”

“A kid did that?!” Angel asked, trying his best to sound like Angelus as he leaned on the shelf closest to him.

The three vamps turned to face him, the one closest to him growling deeply before backing a little towards his friends and away from older vampire. Angel gave the boy a cool look, before turning back to the one he pinned as their leader.

“What’d you do? Try and take her Barbie doll?”

“Who the hell are you?!” the one nearby demanded with a thick Hispanic accent.

Injured Boy narrowed his good eye as he said, “That’s the traitor that kills his own kind.”

“I go by Angel for short.”

As soon as his name left the soulful vampire’s lips, the Hispanic vamp launched himself at him with his ‘dude’ friend close behind. Angel sidestepped the first one, grabbed the vamp’s shirt collar, and, using his own force against him, threw him into a nearby shelf that started the line on the right side of the room. A domino effect followed, with each shelf taking out the one in front of it in a series of loud crashes. Angel didn’t have time to worry about it or the attention the noise would cause; he had other problems at the moment.

Dude growled loudly upon his advance, baring his fangs as he rammed into Angel’s side knocking them both to the ground. He pinned the older vampire under him, before hitting him across the face several times. Angel’s head popped from side to side with sickening jerks before he grabbed Dude’s descending fist, threw it back, then forcefully pushed the younger vamp off him. His attacker seemed to literally fly off him and landed hard on the ground in front of the soulful champion.

Angel quickly got to his feet and was over Dude before he knew what had happened. Jerking his wrist back to release the stake, the brown-haired vampire slammed his palm into the kid’s chest, allowing the stake to penetrate his heart. Dude’s eyes widen in surprise before his whole body turned to dust.

When Angel stood up, he glanced down at the weapon that extended out from under his sleeve. He’d have to remember to thank Wesley for this great Christmas present yet again when they got back to the hotel.

Angel then felt something hard hit him from behind, causing him to stumble forward. Still holding the spot on the back of his head where he’d been hit, he turned around to find Hispanic Guy standing there, ready to strike with a metal pole that he had pulled off of one of the broken shelves. He had a wild grin on his deformed face, as the two vamps began to circle each other like a pair of gladiators fighting for their lives in the Roman coliseum.

“Come on, traidor!” the vamp egged, taking fake steps towards Angel like he was about to attack only to fall back. “Pelo grande! Come on!”

Angel paused in his stride. “Did you just call me ‘big hair’?”

Hispanic Guy took advantage of his momentary distraction and attacked, swinging the metal rod at Angel’s head. The master vampire barely had time to duck and could feel the metal barely brush against the top of his head as the wind ‘whooshed’ by. When he came back up, his arm shot out and caught the weapon. Angel’s free fist then smashed against the guy’s nose, causing his head to shoot back painfully. The rod loosened in Hispanic Guy’s grip as Angel hit him several more times, before the weapon fell to the ground which echoed loudly in the room.

Now free from worry about the pole, Angel grabbed the guy’s head and slammed it downward, while, at the same time, he raised his knee. The vampire’s face smashed into it painfully. Hispanic Guy stumbled backwards in a daze from the hit and Angel quickly jammed the stake into his heart.

Two down, one to go.

Angel glanced over at Injured Boy who had been watching from the side lines as his two friends fought and lost to the so-called traitor. He growled deeply in his throat, but began to move away from the larger and older vampire. Apparently he knew he wouldn’t win in the fight, and was going to be a coward and not even try. Angel watched him carefully, knowing that he couldn’t allow him to leave; too many innocent people would be hurt if he did.

As Injured Boy backed away, the shelf behind him that was closest to the wall suddenly began to creak and groan, causing both vampires to look at it. In what seemed like slow motion, the metal box began to fall forward at the younger vampire, spilling its contents on the concrete ground. Injured Boy jumped back to keep the self from falling on top him. What he didn’t realize was that this motion also brought him close enough to Angel for the soulful vampire to do his job. The wounded vampire’s whole body jerked forward as the stake penetrated his back to his heart, causing him to explode into a pile of dust like his friends.

Angel smiled to himself as he watched the ashes float to the ground. That really wasn’t so bad. Usually, Cordy’s visions sent him into much worse danger than this.

A movement against the wall where the shelf had fallen alerted Angel to another presence in the room. He knew it had to be the kid that they were after, and he also knew that this was the one who must have helped him.

Looking up, Angel found a child scrunched up against the wall. Her hair and clothes were smeared with fresh blood from the last vamp, which was probably why he had not noticed her scent before. However, now that he had, Angelus could feel his already cold blood drop several degrees.

“Oh, my God.”

**********

“Mom, I’m home!” Buffy called into the well lit house as she walked in.

As the set of keys slid out of her hand and into the small bowl in the foyer, she heard her sister yelp almost frantically, “Buffy! There you are!”

The slayer turned her head and found the living room was now occupied by her mother, sister, and Andrew. Dawn and Joyce had worried looks on their faces that were quickly changing over to relief. Andrew, however, barely seemed to notice her before going back to his current project, which was going through a large, cardboard box they had drug up from the basement.

“Buffy, where have you been?!” Joyce asked still sounding rather frazzled, though the younger blonde wasn’t sure why.

“Andrew said you left the Magic Box nearly two hours ago!” Dawn quickly added. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Oh, so that’s what this was about.

She knew they all meant well, and were only trying to look after her because Spike had asked them too; but she was the slayer and could take care of herself. And it was starting to get on her nerves.

The slayer barely suppressed a groan as she forced an apologetic smile onto her face. “Sorry. I ran into…” She paused a moment, trying to decide exactly what to tell them. If she told them Faith was back in town, they would ask why and then want to call her for an emergency Scooby meeting, and Buffy was way too tired to deal with all that at the moment. “An old friend.”

Well, it wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth. And she was going to tell them she saw Faith, just….later.

Joyce studied her oldest for a long moment with a skeptical look. She knew Buffy wasn’t telling them something, she could tell by how her daughter was trying far too hard to look innocent. Both her girls did that when they were telling on half truths. Joyce wasn’t nearly as blind as her children thought; she just knew when not to push things. This was one such occasion.

“Oh,” the middle-aged woman said, letting the subject drop with that. She turned around slightly to the young man sitting on her living room floor, who was now playing with two small, furry purple and blue teddy bears he had found in the box before him. “Andrew, could you please call the others and let them know we found her?”

The reddish-blond looked up at the request, and, for a moment, appeared as if he might protest. But Joyce just smiled kindly, which caused him to sigh.

“Yes, Mrs. Summers,” he said, dropping the bears and heading for the phone.

Andrew picked up the cordless that laid on a nearby table and was just about to press the ‘talk’ button, when it suddenly began to ring. Joyce barely suppressed a laugh when he jumped from surprise, and had to cover her mouth to hide her amused smile.

“Hello, Summers’ residences,” the young man said briskly, sounding like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be answering the phone. Probably came from years of working at the Magic Box was the only reason Joyce could think of for his easy, friendly tone. A confused look was momentarily etched on his face before he said, “This is Andrew. Who’s this?...Angel? I don’t know any Angel?”

The older blonde noticed her eldest perk up at the mention of her old boyfriend before heading across the room to Andrew.

“Give me the phone,” Buffy demanded, holding out her hand.

Confusion was still on his face as he said to Angel, “Um, yeah, she’s here. Hang on a sec.”

Joyce watched as the slayer snatched the phone away from the young man quickly, almost like she was a teenager again and her boyfriend was calling to confirm their date. Well, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy, considering that, even though Angel was her ex, Buffy was with someone else and carrying his child. Still, the urgency behind the grab had reminded her mother of her teenage self.

“Angel? What’s going on? What’s wrong?” the younger blonde asked quickly, making it sound almost like a single sentence.

There was a long pause as she listened to what he had to say, and the three other people present found themselves strangely drawn to the blonde slayer. There was something going on, and they wanted to know what. Andrew’s confused look now found itself on Buffy’s face as she listened.

“What? What are you talking about?” she asked, not understanding.

Joyce then watched as the confusion on her child’s face melted away to shock and paleness. She turned her large eyes up to her mother, but her chin fell towards the ground to leave her mouth hanging open. For a moment, her mother thought that Buffy would fall to the ground. She and Dawn quickly moved to her either side of her, but, as the Key went to help her sister remain standing, Joyce took the phone from her hand to see what had caused this.

“Hello? Angel?”

There was a long pause with no sound made on either end. When several long seconds passed in silence, Joyce was about to ask for the vampire again when another voice cut her off.

“Gram?”

**********

**********

Part 11: Secrets and Lies

Buffy sat on the front porch swing, her bare feet lifting up and down as she gently pushed herself. The night was warm and sweet with the smell of blooming flowers and salt water from the ocean. It was a relaxing scent, one that she would have liked to savor, especially considering that there were quite a few smells that she used to love that now made her sick. But this one was nice, calming even.

Things that night had basically became one big blur to her. Everything was happening so fast, and after months that passed so painfully slow, it was extremely disorienting. One minute, she had been sitting in the Magic Box with Willow, praying that Spike and Giles would find just one little clue to Dylan’s whereabouts; the next her daughter was sitting in the living room, laughing with the Scoobies over experiences and misadventures that had occurred during her absence. Of course, Dylan herself was being pretty tight lipped about what had happened to her, but they were all in too good of a mood to listen anyway.

The slayer had retreated to the front porch whenever she felt it was becoming too much for her. She hadn’t lied to Xander, Dylan being home was a great thing, but she found herself worrying just as much as she had when the child was missing. Things were different now; her daughter was, just as much as Buffy herself. She knew what Dylan had done; it had to do something to her and none of it could be good.

“Buffy?”

The pregnant blonde turned to see Angel standing in the front door. She could hear Xander’s voice floating out into the night air telling the story of how Cash had discovered a nail and a hammer can effectively seal a big sister in her own room.

The older vampire stepped out onto the porch and carefully pulled the door closed behind him. He sighed at the sight of her. There had been times when they had been together, especially that wonderful day he had spent with her when he was human, where he had imaged what she would look like carrying a child. It was more beautiful than anything he could have ever dreamed. Even if she was carrying…his child, it didn’t take away from the beauty of it.

She offered a weak smile; casting her eyes down to the floor in front of her while he came to join her on the swing. The sweet rocking motion she had set was interrupted when he sat down, causing her bare feet to scrap more sharply against the floor than she liked. Still, Buffy said nothing, and they soon found the rhythm she had set again.

They stayed that way for a long time, neither one of them saying a word. Just pushing back and forth silently.

Angel suppressed the urge to frown. Ten years ago, he would have only had to look at her to know what she was thinking. Her face had always been an open book to him. Now, sitting right next to her, he couldn’t tell what she thought. Though, he could guess and would probably be pretty close if he did.

“She seems happy,” Buffy mused aloud, allowing a little insight into her train of thought and confirming Angel’s suspicions.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “She does.”

“That’s not good. Is it?”

Drawing a deep, unneeded breath, the soulful vampire let it out slowly. “No. I don’t think it is.”

The silence returned, making the only sound disturbing the night the chains that held the swing pulling at the wood it held. If what he had said had affected her, she didn’t let it show. Her gaze was fixed on her rounded stomach as she thought, her hands covering it as if she was afraid someone was going to try and hurt the child inside.

“Angel,” she said again, her voice just as soft as before. “How did you find her?”

Shrugging a little, he said, “Cordy had a vision of a kid at a train station fighting some demons. Me and Wesley went to go check it out and, well, there she was.”

“Was there a boy with her? About ten with brown hair?”

He thought a moment, trying to recall such a person’s presence earlier that night. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Just curious.”

Buffy sighed at that news. If Sebastian wasn’t with Dylan, then that meant Travers had sent her out on her own. If he had, then he was probably starting to wonder where she was. That meant, he would be looking for her soon and he would probably come right back to Sunnydale to find her. More danger, even more reason to be wary.

Spike would kill her if he knew what she was about to say, but she just wanted them to be safe. He would understand if she explained, but that would be after the screaming and the fit pitching and the threats of staking and being doused in holy water. That was to say, if he ever found out that she asked, which was so not happening if she had anything to say about it.

“Can I ask a favor?” She looked up from her swollen belly and to her old love.

“Sure,” he answered, settling himself back into a comfortable position even though he was rather curious about what she wanted.

“Stay.”

Okay, he wasn’t expecting that.

“Buffy-.”

“Not for me,” she said, cutting him off before he could continue that line of thought.

As Cordelia used to say, ego much? She already had someone, and so did he; the thought of her leaving Spike, while carrying his child, was beyond laughable. It was like… preposterously absurd. Oh, Giles would be proud of that one.

“Well, kind of for me, but not what you’re thinking.” Buffy sighed as she tried to think of the best way to explain. “I want you to stay to help protect her, from…you know. And there are other things going on here that really need our attention, which is why Faith is here, so we could really use your help right now.”

“I don’t know, Buffy.”

“It’ll only be until the baby is born, then I can take over again,” the blonde quickly added.

“What about Spike? What’ll he say about this?”

“Probably some colorful British words that only he and Giles would understand; then he’ll think about, cuss some more, and won’t come around until I finally threaten him.”

Angel tried not to smile, he really did, but he couldn’t help it.

“You know him pretty well, huh?”

“He’s not as hard to figure out as you think,” she smiled. “Giles trying to be funny, now that is hard to figure out sometimes. But Spike, not so much.”

The silence returned, but was more comfortable now. More like it used to be when she was younger and Angel had been the one she turned to. But it wasn’t the same kind of silence they shared then. Now, she was asking as a friend, nothing more.

“So, you staying?” she asked again.

The dark-haired vampire sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. God, Spike was going to go ballistic. Well, that would be a nice little reward for him for bringing Dylan back.

“Sure. LA’s been dead lately anyway.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a brilliant smile flash across her face before she leaned over and gave him a light, friendly kiss on the cheek.

When she was young, the gesture of placing her lips against him would have sent chills of excitement through her. But now, it was almost like kissing…Xander. Or Giles. Or even Andrew! Huh, guess that really meant that she was completely and totally over him. Not that she didn’t think she was in the first place, but she had proof now.

“Thank you,” she said, still smiling a bit. “But you better not tell Spike I asked you to stay or you’ll get to see why everyone is afraid of a pregnant, pissed off slayer.”

**********

Dylan sat on the back porch, staring up into the nearly pitch black night. The sun would be up soon, and she had yet to go to bed. Not that that looked like a possibility anytime soon, considering that her house had been invaded by the gang. She wasn’t used to all these people, not anymore anyway. After it being just her and Sebastian for so long, all these people just seemed a bit too…overwhelming.

“Hey,” a voice said from behind her.

The young girl barely turned in her seat to find her mother standing underneath the back porch light, which seemed to make her glow unnaturally. Of course, she had been that way since she and the others had snapped out of their trances and welcomed the child home; Buffy even more so thanks to her current condition.

“Hey,” the girl answered, watching her mom make her way across the porch and sit down next to her. Well, it was more like maneuvered her way down next to her, with Dylan’s help.

“Had to get out of there, huh?”

The child cut her eyes to the side and shrugged, letting the slayer know she was right.

Buffy sighed slightly, placing her hand on top of her enlarged belly. “I’ve been there a couple of times.”

Dylan turned to the blonde slayer and grinned, knowing Buffy actually did know what she was talking about. Her blue eyes then began to travel downward until they came to rest on the large, physical change that had occurred in the older woman since they had last seen one another.

“You didn’t look too surprised about this.” Buffy patted her stomach to emphasize what she meant.

The child looked back up into her mother’s hazel eyes. “Bastian told me. He just kind of didn’t tell me you were, you know, that big.”

She laughed softly. “Because I wasn’t. Your little brother has grown a lot since then.”

“Brother?”

“That’s what Willow says.”

Confusion found its way onto Dylan face as she asked, “Didn’t she also say that Cash was going to be a girl?”

Chuckling again, Buffy answered, “That’s what Anya rants.”

This time, the young girl laughed with her mother. Apparently, the ex-demon had been dwelling on that much longer than the slayer had thought. God, poor Xander. When her giggles began to subside, Dylan’s face slowly melted into a more serious, yet worried form.

“Buffy, do they…know?” she asked carefully. She caught the look in her mother’s eyes from her already resorting back to calling her by her first name, but ignored it.

Slowly, the slayer shook her head. “No. They don’t.”

Relief and what almost looked like hope sprang to the child’s once serious face as she stiffened a little but went on. “W-what about Dad? Did you tell him?”

Buffy reached over, pushed some of the child’s hair behind her ears, and smiled a sweet but sad smile. “No, baby. I didn’t tell him either,” she informed her daughter, sounding an awful lot like Joyce Summers at the moment.

Though the child felt like jumping up and down, she instead blinked and heard herself ask, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy sighed, but quickly amended. “I just don’t think there is any point in them knowing.” She reached over and pulled the child to her side, letting her curl her blonde head so it rested on her shoulder. “Listen to me. That night-.” Dylan began to pull away from her, but the slayer held strong. “No, listen to me. That night, you didn’t do anything wrong. That guy was going to kill you, and you just defended yourself.”

“How can you say that?!” the little girl demanded, pulling away to look her mother in the face. “You’re a slayer. You’re not supposed to kill humans no matter what!” Sighing, the girl leaned back against the step. “Beside, it’s not like you know what it’s like.”

“Actually, I do,” her mother corrected.

That got Dylan’s attention, as she turned her wide eyes towards her for an explanation. Buffy nodded to indicate that she had heard her right.

“It was a long time ago, when you were still a baby. Your dad had gone off for awhile, and I was staying with some good friends of ours in Spain with you. Some very nasty men broke into the house, and were trying to hurt us.”

“So you killed them?”

“They didn’t give me any choice. It was them or us.” The slayer reached over and gently ran her hand down the back of the girl’s head, until finally coming to rest halfway down her back. “I didn’t want to hurt them, but I knew we would be if I didn’t stop them. It was the same with you. He was going to hurt you. You know that.”

Buffy watched as Dylan drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment, considering what she had said to her. There was a difference between self defense and murder; she just hoped the child was old enough to understand it. Even if she did sound like a grownup more often then not, she was still a kid.

“Buffy,” she finally said after several long moments. Slowly, she turned to face her mother again, but had a small smile on her face this time. “Thank you.”

Bending over, the slayer tenderly kissed the girl on the forehead, and rubbed her back softly. They were still like that when the backdoor tore open forcefully, bringing both women’s attention to it. Spike stood there, staring at Dylan with wide eyes. For the love of God, she was not going through that look thing again.

“Daddy!” she chirped happily, jumping up from her seat and literally lunging herself into his arms.

Buffy couldn’t help but smile as she watched the pair. The way he was clinging onto her made the slayer think back to that time in high school with vampire Willow, and how Giles had literally attached himself to the redhead when he found out she was indeed alive. Only, Dylan was hugging him back, not standing there awkwardly wondering what-in-the-hell was going on.

After several long seconds, the little blonde girl choked out, “Um, Dad, you might not need to breathe, but I do.”

Adhering to his daughter’s request, Spike pulled away, but continued to hold her by the arms and knelt before her. The last time he had done that, he was nearly looking her in the eye at that height. Now, he had to bend his head back to look up into her eyes. God, she must have grown a full three inches, if not more, since she was taken.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” he ordered, shaking her a little to emphasize his point. “Or I’m goin’ to rip out your spleen and feed it to that bloody cat!”

Dylan giggled at her father’s threat. It wasn’t the first time she had heard it.

“I’m not foolin’,” Spike told her, his voice taking on a much more worried, soft tone. “Do you have any idea how worried your mum was? Why it was all I could do to keep her from killin’ every demon between here and Timbuktu lookin’ for you. Course, I wasn’t worried. Knew you’d take care of yourself ‘til we found you and violently and painfully killed that wanker.”

She laughed again. “Dad, I do know what that word means, you know.”

“Guess I better stop usin’ it then, eh?”

“Not if you don’t tell Buffy what it is,” she whispered with a wicked grin that matched his own a little to well.

Spike returned the smile with a slight shake of his head.

Yeah, she was definitely his kid.

**********

Sebastian stood at the window, staring out into the dark night. Things had been quiet for the past several days since Dylan ‘left’ and he found himself once more in this large house. He had forgotten exactly how long they had waited there before, but he knew that it wouldn’t be that long this time. He was glad for that. The boy didn’t think he’d be able to take their ‘company’ for too long.

Turning his head, Bastian watched the two adults sitting on the furniture in front of the empty fireplace.

Grandfather had nestled himself into the oversized chair, a glass of Scotch in one hand and some dusty old book in the other. He wasn’t reading it; Sebastian could tell by the way the old man kept lifting his eyes towards the middle-aged woman across from him. Something about her was putting Travers on edge, and, from the kid’s experience, that was never a good thing.

Not that he cared for the woman, either. Everything about her screamed upper-class; the high priced outfit and matching shoes, the way she crossed her ankles instead of her legs, even that Jaclyn Kennedy haircut. But there was more to her than that.

Diana lifted her dark eyes from the cross stitching she was doing and looked over to the boy in the window. A small smile barely touched her lips, which sent a shiver down Sebastian’s back. When she looked at you, it was like…like someone seeing right to your very soul. It was completely unnerving, for anyone.

One of the servants - well, servants really wasn’t the word for it. Followers would fit better - opened the door that lead into the library, allowing the final member inside.

Sebastian supposed he fancied himself the leader, considering that most people followed his orders or Diana’s without question. Maybe he was. He told Grandfather what to do, Grandfather told Sebastian, and Sebastian did it…most of the time. Funny thing was he never ordered Bastian directly. Perhaps because he knew that he wouldn’t follow them, and, truthfully, if they didn’t come from Travers, he wouldn’t. The boy had long ago decided that enough people were ordering him around, he surely didn’t need anymore.

“Hello, my darling.”

Kenneth walked up behind Diana, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and kissed her on the cheek. She smiled, leaning into the kiss before he pulled away and glanced down at the cross-stitching she had been working on all night.

“Is that for Philip?”

“Do think he’ll like it?” she asked hopefully, holding it up higher so he could have a better look.

Still smiling, he walked around the side of the couch, sat down next to her, and pulled Diana close. “Of course he will, darling,” he assured her with another kiss. “You’re his mother. He’ll love anything you give him.”

Sebastian glanced over at Grandfather at the statement, and was surprised to find that the old man was already staring at him. The Watcher’s eyes gave far too much away. He needed to be more careful when dealing with these two, especially her.

“Well, things went well for me tonight,” Kenneth announced happily, turning his attention back to the older gentleman across from him. “How are things on your end, Travers?”

The old man quickly snapped his attention back to the couple once addressed, leaving Bastian once again to just watch the conversation from his perch by the window.

“Well, as far as I can tell.” Glancing down to his wrist, what could almost pass as relief passed over Grandfather’s face as he stood up and gave an apologetic smile two adults. “In fact, I do believe it is time to see how well things are going. So, if you’ll be so kind as to excuse me.”

Not waiting for an answer, the old man quickly made his exit. Kenneth and Diana watched him leave, before turning their attention towards one another.

“He doesn’t like us,” she said, going back to her stitching. “He or…”

Lifting her eyes once again, they came to rest on the still staring Bastian. Both the child and the woman had even looks on their faces as they did their best to win the battle of wills. Finally, she dropped her eyes back to her work, letting Bastian have the win.

“The boy.”

Sighing, the middle-aged man pulled his wife a little closer to him, ignoring the fact that they had an audience all together.

“Don’t worry, darling. They are here to help us and little Philip, remember? Why, we wouldn’t be here had it not been for them.”

Diana continued to frown and said, “I still don’t like them.” Her hard gaze continued to silently threaten the boy, who had not moved, nor had they bothered to try and hide their personal feelings from him. “Especially him.”

Don’t like you either, lady, Sebastian thought.

A satisfying smirk came to rest on his face when he saw her eyes narrow a little. God, he was glad Dylan showed him how to play with a psychic before she left. Apparently, she learned if from her father, who had picked it up after a century with that nutso Drusilla. Well, anyway, she learned it and he was happy she shared the secret with him because riling Diana was fun. He’d just have to remember to be careful. Women like her generally turn out to be a bit crazy too.

Turning his attention back to the window, Sebastian sighed to himself. Well, nothing left to do now but wait.

**********

Walking into her bedroom, Dylan sighed. It was almost exactly as she left it, except the clothes she had left scattered on the floor were gone, and her usually messy bed had been made up. Gram must have cleaned up for her while she was gone. Everything else, however, remained the same.

Mr. Gordo still stood guard on her bed. Her old stuffed dog sat in the chair beside the window. School books that she had hoped would be burned in her absence rested on the corner of her dresser. And the cutesy posters that Jessie had tacked up in an attempt to make her room look more ‘girly’ still hung on the walls. Even her laptop had remained sitting on her nightstand, as if waiting for her to turn it on.

She could hear the adults downstairs talking with one another, mainly about how her dad was able to get there as fast as he did. He had said something about Giles doing some sort of spell to transport him home, but Dylan really hadn’t been listening. Then Anya had started to rave about how much energy that kind of spell takes and how ‘if Spike killed Giles before he gave her the numbers to the business connections in New Orleans, she was going to have Faith dust him.’

Dylan was tired, and really just wanted to get some sleep.

Instead, she flopped down on her bed, picked up her laptop, and signed on, all the while yawning. It took her a few minutes longer to get to the site she wanted, and almost instantly she received a message.

ChessMaster: You’re late, Poppet.

ChessMaster: So, everything is going accordingly then?

The child sighed again as she glanced over to a photo that had been sitting behind the laptop. Her family was smiling back at her at the party they had held after her mother’s return. Even Oz and Van were grinning, which was a strange sight indeed. Reaching over, she placed the photo face down. She didn’t want them to see.

ChessMaster: Yeah?

**********

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