TITLE: The Family Business
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: After the events of The Ticking Clock, Buffy and Giles are still looking for their daughter. Can they save her from a terrible fate?
SPOILERS: Everything up to “The Gift”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
EMAIL:
. Would love feedback. This is only my third fanfic. Well, technically my first if you want to lump Death Brings Clarity, The Ticking Clock, and this together as one book.MY WEBSITE: www.jkphilips.com
--------------------------------------------------- Part 6: The Last Slayer
Shortly before sunrise, two men in leather coats entered through the emergency doors of Good Samaritan hospital. To the best of their knowledge, only one potential slayer had survived, and they had tracked her to there. The first man took a seat in the waiting room, opening his laptop and turning it in the direction of the admissions desk. The second man approached the triage nurse and asked after a friend. When she failed to find the name in the computer, she left her desk to ask a doctor. He took that opportunity to rifle through the patient charts. He found one Rupert Giles and one Robin McGregor. He ripped the pages from the clipboards and stuffed them in his pockets. Facing his accomplice with the laptop, he waited for the signal. A nod of the head, and they were both walking out of the hospital, before the triage nurse could even return and tell them their friend was not a patient here. Before the first rays of daylight could even touch the pavement.
*** Buffy sensed his presence, but she didn’t look up. “She hates me.” She felt the couch move as he sat beside her, but she didn’t uncurl from her remarkable impression of a threatened armadillo. “She doesn’t hate you.” She sniffled slightly. “Yeah, right. She scream in mortal fear when you try to pick her up?” His hand attempted to brush back her curtain of hair, so he could see her face. She merely tucked her head further into the cushions. He sighed and let his hand drift down to rub her back in slow circles. “She witnessed her parents’ murders,” Giles whispered. “Very violent murders. By some rather frightening creatures, I imagine. Her house burned down, and she barely escaped from the fire. Now she’s in a strange place with people she doesn’t know. She’s only three years old, Buffy. This is a lot for her to cope with.” “She doesn’t hate you,” Buffy replied petulantly. “She saw me once before. And I saved her from the fire. She’s just latching on to something familiar, to one person she feels she can trust. She’ll learn to trust you, too. Just be patient.” Buffy bit her lip not to cry. She was tired of crying. She felt like she had spent the last three days crying. “It’s not fair. I’ve waited so long, and now she’s finally here… Giles, you don’t know how scared I was that we wouldn’t find her, not before… scared that I would never know her, that she would never know me. And now she’s here, but I’m shut out. What if she never lets me in?” She felt his arms slide under hers as he curled his long frame around her. He held her tightly as she cried, not saying anything. Her tears dried up after a minute or so. She had cried so much lately that the proverbial well had run dry. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands and nudged Giles off her back. She slowly sat up, her knees still drawn close to her chest. She glanced over at her watcher, sitting beside her, one arm draped across the back of the couch, watching her intently. “She sleeping?” Giles nodded. “And Alex?” The slightest ghost of a smile. “I think you did a rather good job keeping him up. He curled up beside her and immediately fell back to sleep.” Buffy rose from the couch and crossed to the little desk, where she began nervously fidgeting with a stack of papers. Yeah, like these bills had to be paid right now, and these store flyers were oh so interesting. “You look kinda tired,” she said. “Maybe you should go sleep, too. I’ll just… you know… get some stuff done around the house.” She heard his footsteps behind her and shrugged off the hand he laid on her shoulder. She couldn’t help it. She was still angry with him. She thought it would all go away when he brought Robin home, but she only felt worse. She knew it was stupid and childish and not true, but she felt like he had stolen Robin from her and made her all his. Maybe he hadn’t done it on purpose, but their daughter wanted only him. Giles didn’t press her, didn’t try to touch her again, just walked past her and up the stairs. Buffy pulled Robin’s photo from her front pocket and stared at it, just as she had for the hours she spent waiting for their return from LA. She curled up on the couch once more and fell asleep herself. *** Joseph sat back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers before him. It may have only been a dirty office in a run down warehouse, but he had splurged on a conference table and nice chairs. One could hardly be expected to conduct negotiations over packing crates and folding chairs. Sabrina sat on the other side of the rich mahogany table, drumming her hands on the surface. She didn’t do calm so easily. Joseph himself had no reason to be calm. His plan, so brilliantly designed and expertly implemented, had somehow failed. There was still one potential slayer left, and that was one too many. The two minions who had missed her, the idiots who couldn’t find one small child in one not so large house, well they had been dealt with. She had survived the fire, and they hadn’t even bothered to track her to the hospital. It would be a trap, they insisted. The man who saved her knew of their kind and would be prepared for them. Cowards. They were dust now, slayed by Joseph’s own hand right in front of the next two minions he sent looking for her. Her trail disappeared at Good Samaritan hospital. The man had taken her there, but there was no record of either of them, no clue where they might have gone after being released. He didn’t even know the man’s name. Joseph had no reason to be calm except years of practice in the courtroom. Sabrina could give him the last slayer. She had the upper hand here. But she would never know that. Joseph’s cool demeanor would allow him to remain in control. That and the sword. “I held up my end of the bargain. The spell showed you every last one.” Joseph tilted his head in acknowledgment. “But there is still one left alive.” “That is hardly my fault.” She stood and began to pace the small confines of his office. The conference table left very little room to spare. “If you couldn’t get her, you can hardly blame me. I want my sword. I’m done with waiting.” He shook one finger. “I said you would get your payment after the spell was finished-” “Which it is!” “-and the slayers were all dead.” He withdrew a small tape recorder from his suit pocket and replayed that portion of their discussion. If he wasn’t going to get a written contract, if he was going to have to go on verbal agreements, then he would at least have some record of them. “There is still one alive. Until she is dead, we don’t have a deal.” “So what am I supposed to do about it?” He tucked the tape recorder back in his pocket. It was recording again, but she failed to notice. “Re-do the spell and find her. After she is dead, you will have your prize.” Sabrina brushed one hand through her short, brunette waves. The corners of her mouth began to twitch, and she sat on her knees on the chair across from him. “Just one left? I have a much better plan for you. Why should you completely eliminate the power of the slayer?” He laughed dryly. “Could it be because the Slayer exists for the sole purpose of making sure we don’t? That seems like a pretty convincing reason to me.” “Only because she is trained to. One potential slayer left. Kill the Slayer, and she is Called. The girl is young and can still be corrupted. Take her. Train her. Raise her to be our Slayer, not theirs. That will be a prize that will buy you your partnership. With a Slayer of your own, you won’t need to go crawling to Wolfram and Hart; they’ll be begging you to come back.” He steepled his fingers again and tapped them on his mouth. “An interesting idea, but it lacks long-term vision. If we don’t finish them off now, we’ll have to contend with more slayers after this one is dead.” Sabrina shrugged. “The Watchers do it. How hard can it be?” His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” “C’mon, Joseph, you have resources. You have money. You managed to organize a one-night campaign to eliminate all the potential slayers across the whole world. And you very nearly succeeded, with only one left alive. Why don’t you come up with a little long-term vision here yourself? Why limit yourself to third chair in someone else’s orchestra when you can be conducting the whole symphony?” “You mean take over Wolfram and Hart?” She rolled her eyes. “I mean forget about Wolfram and Hart. I’m talking about making your own Council. A Council of… of… of Killers. Yeah. You can find and train the slayers just as easily as the Watchers can.” She climbed off her chair and over the conference table, leaning close to him, her forehead mere inches from his. Her voice became low and sultry. “I know what it’s like to never measure up, to always follow in someone else’s footsteps. You must have gotten that a lot, huh? Daddy was a legend, wasn’t he? And you always fell short in everyone’s eyes. But I also know what’s it’s like to break free of that legacy, to set my own goals and exceed everyone’s expectations. And let me tell you, it’s a rush like nothing else. You do this, and when they talk about your dear old dad, they’ll be saying: ‘Yeah, isn’t he Joseph Zalk’s father?’” Joseph stood from his chair abruptly and pivoted away from her. If he had a window, he would have strode over to it and stared out through the glass. As a vampire, having an office with a window was not a perk. So he merely studied the certificates he had hung on the wall. His undergraduate degree from Harvard. His law degree from the same. His license to practice in the state of California. He felt her eyes on the back of his head and smiled. “Save your mind games for someone else, Sabrina. You can pull whatever you like from my head, but you can’t use it to influence me. I’m not human, remember?” He spun to face her, and she was sitting cross-legged on the tabletop. On his beautiful, expensive, mahogany conference table tabletop. He scowled and ushered her off into a proper chair. “So what’s in it for you, my dear? Why so eager for me to start my own slayer training academy?” She studied him for a moment before answering, perhaps trying to decide if she should tell the truth. “I need 280.” “Come again?” “After you give me the sword, I need 280. Your men drew the symbol around each of their kills, and there’s the four I killed before they could run away from our happy family. But there weren’t nearly enough with enough power to get even close to 280.” “So you want my slayer to land you your quota?” Joseph noticed that he had already begun using the phrase “my slayer.” Whatever ulterior motives Sabrina had for her suggestion, it was a very good plan, and it was beginning to appeal to him. “She’s just a child. It will be years before she’ll be ready to send hunting.” Sabrina began absently twirling a pencil on the table. Of course, she wasn’t actually touching it. It was just twirling on its own about an inch above the wood surface. “That’s not what I meant at all. I have another idea. And I think it might be to our mutual benefit to work together.” Joseph returned to his seat across from her. He laid his hands casually on the smooth mahogany. A proper table to conduct negotiations at indeed. And he was thankful to have the recorder still running. “Ok, Sabrina, I’m listening.” *** A rhythmic prodding of his sides woke Giles from a deep sleep. He cracked one eye open slightly to see Alex kneeling beside him on the bed, smiling innocently as he poked his father in the ribs. Giles turned his head slightly. Robin had adopted a matching stance on his other side and a similar cherubic expression as she engaged in the same activity. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes fully, and grabbed them each by their hands before they could continue. Alex squealed, but Robin only laid her head on his shoulder. “Dear Lord,” he groaned. “You two couldn’t possibly have gotten enough sleep.” “Mommy sleep,” Alex informed him as he pounced on his father’s chest. Giles flinched at the impact and grimaced slightly as the jolt of pain up his spine reminded him of the fall he had taken the night before. “Yes, I envy her that right now. I’m also kicking myself for teaching you never to wake her.” “Eggs,” the boy demanded as he leaned over to give little Eskimo kisses, nose to nose. Dawn must have taught him that. “I suppose I can’t starve you. Come on, then, race you downstairs.” Alex jumped off the bed and bounded out of the bedroom. Why did children always fall for that? Like Giles had any intention of racing anywhere right now. He pulled himself stiffly out of bed, the bruises and soreness kicking in now that he’d gotten some rest. “Come along, Robin. You need to eat something, too.” He held his hand out to her, but she wasn’t satisfied with that. She took his hand and reached up her other to clutch his shirt. She tried to pull herself into his arms. He lifted her from the bed and set her on the floor. “Now, I know you are fully capable of walking by yourself.” She whined desperately, bouncing on her feet with her arms raised to him. He sighed and picked her up, his back protesting slightly as he did. He carried her downstairs where Alex was waiting for him in the kitchen. Buffy still slept on the couch. He would let her sleep for now. “Up,” Alex demanded, tugging on one pant leg. Giles ruffled the child’s hair fondly. “I’ve only two hands, son. If I carry you both, I won’t be able to cook breakfast.” Alex stomped out of the kitchen to sulk. Ah well, there were the beginnings of sibling rivalry. Giles made eggs and toast and tried to encourage his daughter to talk. She only watched him work quietly, her fingers wound into the fabric of his nightshirt. He called Alex to come eat, and the boy came, towing his mother in behind him. “Good morning,” Giles greeted his wife. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and yawned. “Morning.” But her gaze didn’t so much as touch on him; she focused entirely on the little girl in his arms. “Hey, Robin.” The child buried her face in his neck, and Buffy dropped her eyes to the island counter beside her. “She won’t talk for me either,” Giles said, hoping to lessen the sting. Buffy sat on a stool and pulled Alex into her lap. “You love me, don’t ya, little Rabbit?” Alex grinned and gave her an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. “Park?” he asked. She laughed. “You think every time Mommy’s home she should take you to the park, don’t ya?” “Go swing,” Alex said happily as he reached for the eggs his father had just placed before him. Giles cringed as the boy began eating with his fingers. He slid a fork closer to the child. “Manners, Alex. We don’t eat with our fingers.” Buffy pulled her plate in front of her and defiantly took a handful of eggs. “Yes, very good, Buffy,” Giles muttered. “At least I know where he got his disobedient streak.” Alex glanced back and forth between his mother and father. He picked up his fork and speared a mouthful of eggs, watching his father expectantly. Giles smiled, and Alex shoved the bite in his mouth, spilling less than half in his lap. His mother had picked up her fork too, and Alex asked again. “Go park? Monkey bar. Robin see-saw.” Buffy squeezed him really tight and gave him kisses in his ear until he was wiggling and giggling in her arms. “So you finally have someone your own size to put at the other end of the see-saw, huh? Yeah, I don’t blame you. Daddy always cheats and never lets you down.” Giles blushed and ducked his head slightly to focus on Robin. She wouldn’t eat again today, and it was beginning to concern him. He gave her the fork, but she only wanted to feed him, like she had at the diner. He took the implement back and tried again, but she turned her head away every time he brought the food close. Her hand lashed out finally, dumping the eggs in his lap. “Please, Robin. Two bites. Look, Alex ate all his eggs.” “Maybe she doesn’t like eggs,” Buffy said. “I stopped for breakfast this morning.” He glanced at the clock. “Well, less than four hours ago, I guess. I ordered everything on the bloody menu, but she wouldn’t touch it.” His voice grew softer. “Even cake.” She laughed and choked on her orange juice. “Cake? You tried to bribe our kid with cake? Okay, you are sooo not allowed to give me the ‘he shouldn’t have ice cream before dinner’ lecture again.” He rolled his eyes and tried to tempt the girl with another forkful, but she turned her head at the last moment, and the eggs only ended in his lap again. “Cake?” Alex asked eagerly. “No you may not have cake,” Giles replied, still attempting to put food in his daughter’s stomach. “Try the airplane,” Buffy suggested. “Pardon?” “You know. The stock parenting trick. Mom used to do it with Dawn all the time. Zoom, zoom, the airplane’s coming into the hanger, open up.” She demonstrated with her own fork, zipping it around in the air in front of her. He sighed. “Buffy, I’m firmly convinced that the reason most Americans are morons is that they’re taught to be so from a young age. Now, she will either eat or she won’t, but me making a fool of myself is not likely to sway her decision.” Buffy shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’m telling you, it would work.” Buffy did take Alex to the park after breakfast, seeming somewhat disappointed that Giles and Robin didn’t go too. But he had research to do, and Robin would not go without him. She also wouldn’t allow him to set her down, which made research rather more difficult. The books had illustrations he would prefer she didn’t see, especially after the previous evening’s events, but he couldn’t interest her in an activity of her own. She seemed firmly convinced that he was about to read to her from the old volumes in his lap and wasn’t about to be distracted. Finally, he turned on the television and between soap operas and cooking shows, was able to find some children’s programming that captured her attention. Something with a purple dinosaur to which they had thankfully managed to avoid introducing Alex. Eventually, she allowed him to slide her onto the floor between his knees. At one point in time, he was even able to sneak off to the bathroom and then into the bedroom to dress. That didn’t last long, though, because the moment she noticed his absence, she was pounding on his door and crying. So when he resumed his research downstairs and again placed her between his knees, she wound one arm around his leg to keep him with her. He started with the books on the sword of Camela, since that had been the symbol found beneath her parents’ murdered bodies, picking up at the passage he had left off at the day before. He occasionally tried reaching the Council, but the lines were either busy and he couldn’t get through, or they rang and no one answered. If potential slayers the world over had been attacked, then the Council was likely very busy. He tried Robin’s grandparents once as well, reasoning that maybe it would help Robin to see them. But no one answered at the number the hospital had given him, and Giles was beginning to feel uneasy about the fact that they had not contacted him yet regarding their adoptive granddaughter. So he read, but could find no connection between the sword of Camela and the attacks on potential slayers. And the mighty sorceress Camela was felled by her enemies. Left for dead on the field of battle, she called to her side her faithful servant, the Mortog beast. Cradled in the arms of the Beast, she placed its claws on the hilt of the blade that pierced her heart. “Take of mine blood and mine gifts. For you shall avenge me, and you shall have of the power of each that you slay in my name. Ten for each night of the moon shall you take. The last shall I strike down from the very heavens themselves. Thus in blood and fire shall this blade be blessed that whoever shall bear it will command the power of the slain. And so we shall become our enemies, and we shall use their own power to defeat them.” With her dying breath, the mighty sorceress wove her last spell into her enemy’s blade, and the Beast removed the sword of Camela from its mortal sheath. Branded into the blade by blood and magic, the mark of crescent moon and lightning bolt gave proof of her promise. Armed with the power of the sorceress and the sword forged by her death, the Mortog beast stalked its prey for century upon century and snuffed out the bloodlines of each who had stood against them. Careful to take only the most powerful in her name, the Beast counted nine and two hundred slaughtered. But it would take no more. For the mighty sword of Camela was stolen from the Beast’s grasp by one who had learned of its power. And so it has been found and lost many times over, its power claimed and squandered by a succession of demons and mortals alike. And for three thousand years, the Mortog beast has never stopped searching for the key to the power it was promised. Giles startled as a tiny hand suddenly tugged on his own. Translating from Arabic, which was poorly translated from Sanskrit, was not his forte and required all of his attention as well as frequent dips into the dictionary. He realized as his daughter tugged on his hand that someone was knocking at his door. He had been too absorbed in his work to even notice. He scooped her up into his arms without a second thought, knowing she would quickly protest if he didn’t. And yet, as he approached the door, she began to tremble against him. He stopped in the foyer, holding her tightly and swaying gently as he whispered in her ear. “Shhh… You’re safe here, Robin. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” She seemed to relax a little, but her fingers still held the front of his pullover in a desperate grip of fabric and chest hair. Giles pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he opened the door. “Rupert, I’m glad to see you and the girl made it home safely.” Giles’ face darkened. “I assure you, Quentin, this is a bad time to pay us a social call.” “Not a social call. I’m here on Council business.” Travers swept past him without an invitation. Just as well, because Giles hadn’t intended to offer one. The older man paused in the archway between the foyer and the living room. He turned back with one raised brow. “Barney the dinosaur?” Giles hurriedly passed him, flicking off the television awkwardly. “Yes, well, after last night… Well, if it held her interest, I was hardly going to…” Travers chuckled. “I understand. My grandchildren are positively addicted.” They shared a bemused smile between them, before Giles remembered himself and smoothed his expression. Whatever Travers’ reason for coming, it would not be good. “I’ve been trying to reach the Council all morning. Is it true, Quentin?” Travers lowered himself to the couch and picked up a book absently. His eyes seemed very far away, and he nodded faintly. “This has never happened in recorded history. We’re not even sure how they found them all, except that it must be by magic. Very powerful magic. Well beyond anything the Council is capable of. But they did find them all, Rupert. Every last one. Some that even we hadn’t discovered yet. Some that weren’t even born yet.” Giles slowly sat in a chair opposite, rhythmically stroking his daughter’s arm, then the length of her braid. Robin laid her head on his shoulder. He had no words. “You do know what this means, don’t you?” Travers began carefully. “All the other potentials are dead, even the ones who had passed the age where they might be Called. They didn’t just kill the girls, Rupert; they killed the women, too. Robin is the last slayer. When Faith dies, she will be Called.” Giles closed his eyes. They sat in silence for several moments before Giles removed his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Robin reached out and took his glasses, slipping them on her own face and blinking up at him through large lenses perched at the tip of her nose. He chuckled slightly as he reclaimed his glasses, little fingerprints now on the lenses, so he had to polish them before wearing them again. He pulled her in tight against him, his head resting on the top of hers. This precious child who meant the world to him. How could he save her from that kind of life? His eyes found Travers’ across the room. “Faith?” The older watcher leaned back, making himself comfortable on the couch, crossing his legs casually. “Security has been stepped up at the prison. She’s been moved to solitary until we can sort out the danger.” Giles nodded to the books resting on the couch beside the older man. “I’ve been researching that myself.” Travers looked skeptical as he perused one thin volume. “The sword of Camela? I hardly see how this relates.” “I found the mark in the house.” “The mark?” Travers flipped through several pages, before he stopped, his eyes widening slightly. He offered out the volume for Giles to see the illustration. The familiar mark of crescent moon and lightning bolt. “This mark?” Giles nodded. “Hmm… This could prove useful. We found this same symbol painted on or around most of the potentials killed. On their watchers or parents as well. We assumed it was the symbol for a spell, perhaps the same spell that led their assassins to them. It appears we were mistaken.” Travers took a deep breath, absently touching his fingers to his mouth as he thought. “You’re saying Shaun and Catherine McGregor-” Robin tensed in her father’s arms and began to whimper. Giles quickly put an end to the conversation. “We can discuss this further at a later time. Robin doesn’t need to hear these things.” The girl began to cry softly, and he rose, swaying gently with her for a moment before moving towards the kitchen. “I’m making tea. Would you like some?” “Please.” Giles escaped into the kitchen, murmuring to his child, trying to calm her. Perhaps she was only now realizing that her parents were gone. He began his familiar ritual of making tea, because that, of course, was the answer to everything. Some unknown foe had killed all the potentials the world over, was probably still hunting his daughter, but a spot of tea would make everything better. Robin could not escape her fate: she would be the next Slayer, but a little Earl Grey would clear his head. The water started to boil, and he realized that Robin’s breathing had evened out. He glanced down and saw that her eyes were dipping closed, her fingers relaxing from their grip of his gray pullover. He hummed softly as poured two cups. The poor girl needed more sleep than she had gotten last night, and if she was anything like Alex, would be needing an afternoon nap as well. But Giles was unsure whether he should lay her down to sleep alone. His arms were tiring, though, and he couldn’t carry her the whole day. He brought the tea into the living room, Travers standing up to relieve him of the tray he was holding in one hand. Buffy and Alex entered at that moment, Buffy stopping short in the foyer. “What’s he doing here?” Travers set the tea tray on the coffee table and straightened his spine proudly. “There are things I needed to discuss with the two of you, Miss Summers.” “Mrs. Giles,” she corrected sharply. “Yes, well, at any rate, the events of the last day have broad ramifications for the Council and for you.” Her eyes narrowed and her arms crossed. Giles bit back a small smirk. It was perhaps petty, but he would enjoy watching Buffy take the man down a notch. “Flower,” Alex stated proudly, offering up a wilted dandelion to his father. “Very nice, son, but I think it’s time for a nap.” Giles had seized the boy’s hand before he could escape. “No nap!” Alex insisted, desperately trying to wriggle free. Giles found it much more difficult to handle the boy with only one available hand. He tried to reason with the child instead. “Please, Alex, Robin’s already fallen asleep, but she’ll be frightened if she wakes all alone. You don’t want her to be scared, do you?” Alex shook his head reluctantly. “You don’t have to take a nap if you don’t want to. You just have to stay in bed with Robin while she sleeps. Can you do that for her?” The child stopped fighting him and seemed to consider this. Finally, he allowed Giles to lead him up the stairs by the hand. “Good, this will give me an opportunity to speak with your Slayer alone,” Travers said, and Giles glanced towards Buffy. Damn, he would miss the verbal sparring. He tucked Robin into his own bed, with Alex curled up beside her. The boy’s bed was not big enough for two, and at least this would be familiar to her when she woke. They would have to get her a bed of her own and clothes and toys and perhaps a tiny table and chairs with a tea set like she’d had before. He frowned. Perhaps they shouldn’t get her the same kinds of toys she’d had at the McGregors’. Maybe that would only stir up painful memories. Perhaps a dollhouse instead. He shook his head, out of his depth. How did one help a child recover from a trauma such as this? He really didn’t know what to do for her. “Daddy?” “Yes?” Alex shook his head. “No s’eep.” Giles smiled and kissed him on the forehead. “You don’t have to. Just lie here with Robin. I’ll read you a story while we wait for her to wake up.” He reached for a book on the nightstand and lay down beside his twins. He’d only read three pages before Alex was asleep as well. He touched them both on their heads and smiled. In spite of everything that had happened, in spite of the danger that still hung over them, he felt a peace he hadn’t felt in over three years. Both of his children were home. He felt complete. He quietly slipped out of the room and down the stairs. He found Buffy and Travers sitting across from each other in the living room. Buffy was actually drinking the second cup of tea. It was all much more civilized than he had expected. He was ashamed to admit that he was somewhat disappointed. But then, he noticed the tension coiled in Buffy’s frame and realized that he hadn’t missed the fireworks after all. “Bite me,” she said bitterly. “Colorful as always,” Travers replied calmly. “But surely you must see the necessity.” Giles took a seat on the arm of Buffy’s chair, his hand resting on her shoulder: a show of solidarity. “And if we don’t?” Buffy asked. “You’ll what? Give her back to the McGregors? They’re dead.” Giles squeezed her shoulder slightly, hoping to rein her in before she went too far. “Actually, Buffy,” he murmured, “her grandparents could easily fight us for custody. And the Council could back them if they chose.” Travers set his cup on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch. “Actually, your Slayer is more right than she knows. The McGregors are dead. All of them.” “What?” Travers smoothed his tie and tucked it further into his waistcoat. “Last night, this morning, one by one: the grandparents as well as all her other living relations. They killed all the McGregors.” Giles nodded, his eyes closed, his voice barely a whisper. “Looking for her.” “Yes, they appear much more organized than any other vampires or demons we have run across. And they have enormous resources at their disposal. To find and kill all the potential slayers around the world in one night… There must be literally hundreds working together.” Buffy leaned forward, asking urgently, “But they don’t know Robin is here? They don’t know she’s ours?” “Not as yet.” Giles was on his feet. “Dear Lord, I gave the hospital in LA my name and address.” Travers didn’t seem nearly as concerned. “The Council has already taken care of your lapse in judgment. All record of your visit to LA has been expunged. That is how we knew she survived. That is how I knew to come speak with you.” Giles flinched as Buffy swatted him on the arm. “Oww! What?” “You gave them your name and address, Mr. Stealthy-Pants? What, did you fail the class at watcher school where they teach you not to leave a big ole paper trail for your would-be killers to follow?” He sighed. “I would have rather given an alias, but there were police there, asking about the fire, and they knew you. It would have been rather difficult to be incognito. Not to mention that the doctors wouldn’t let me leave until I had proved I had a legal right to Robin.” He drew himself up taller. “And I never failed any classes during my watcher’s training.” Travers coughed. “Well, there was that one class…” Giles spun and glared daggers at the other man. “I can do without your input, thank you very much.” Buffy shrugged and stood up. “Well, discussion over as far as I can see. Robin’s our daughter now, and we’re not going to turn her into the ultimate fighting machine. So you can just stuff it up your English Channel, ’cause the Council isn’t going to touch her.” Travers didn’t flinch at the venom in her tone. “You forget about the tapes, my dear.” “Tapes?” Giles felt the panic seize each muscle. The older watcher was about to lay bare his darkest secret, the only one he still kept from Buffy. He remembered her words to him from the mansion in India: You do this, and you’ll be *exactly* what Longsworth thinks you are. You’ll be a killer, and you won’t be the man I love anymore. She thought she had stopped him from killing Longsworth. What would she think when she learned she hadn’t? Travers arched one brow in Giles’ direction. “You never told her?” He tried a gambit: a lie cloaked in the truth. “She knows about Ben.” “Ooooh,” Buffy said in understanding. “Those tapes.” But Travers wasn’t buying it. He saw the full truth in Giles’ omission: that Buffy did not know about Longsworth and Sulla and that Giles was terrified she might find out. But the man would never enlighten the slayer. That information would be much more valuable in its ability to make Giles dance to the Council’s tune. Buffy stepped over to stand in front of Travers, her hands planted on her hips, looking down her nose at him. “We both know it’s a bluff. You don’t want to send Giles to jail. Because then you wouldn’t just lose a potential slayer, you would lose the actual Slayer. And I’m thinking all you watchers would rather, well…. watch than actually get your hands dirty.” She bent down to bring them face-to-face. “So you can just go back to England, and I’ll let you know if and when we need you.” She straightened abruptly. “Hey! Were you just looking down my shirt?” “Most certainly not!” Travers sputtered indignantly. “You were totally looking down my shirt!” She spun and crossed back to Giles, pulling him down into an unexpected and passionate kiss. She released him after a moment and smiled, whispering for his ears only, “Did you see how red Mr. Repressed got? God, that was fun!” Then she faced the older watcher again, all the amusement gone from her face. “I’m going upstairs to check on the twins. I believe we’re finished here.” And she disappeared around the corner and up the stairs. Quentin chuckled. “What?” Giles snapped, still trying to compose himself. “I was just thinking of when I fired you. How wrongly I judged you. ‘A father’s love for the child’ indeed!” Giles removed his glasses and carefully polished them. He answered softly, “She wasn’t a child.” “No, most slayers aren’t, I suppose. They don’t have the luxury of childhood.” Travers studied the younger watcher intently, and Giles blushed under the scrutiny. “You were in love with her even then, weren’t you?” He paused for a moment before replacing his glasses. “If I was, I didn’t know it, or at least I didn’t admit it to myself.” “I was still right to fire you. And I would fire you again if I thought I could. It’s never a good idea to love your slayer, Rupert, in any capacity.” “Tell me honestly, Quentin, has there ever been a watcher who hasn’t?” “None that were any good.” The older watcher sighed and looked off to the side in contemplation. “But it only creates complications. There will always come the choice, the moment when you must choose between her and duty, when you must send her out to die. If a watcher ever loves his slayer too much to make that choice, then we are all lost.” His eyes returned to the younger watcher, his gaze stripping him bare. “Tell me, Rupert, as long as we are speaking honestly with each other: could you still make that choice?” “No.” Giles didn’t even hesitate before he answered. He sank back down into his chair and stared at his hands for long moments before continuing. “But to even ask me that… you underestimate the slayers in this equation. It is never the watcher’s choice to make. It is never my choice.” He leaned back, ran one hand over his face. His mouth quirked up in a small smile at the memory. “I tried to stop her once, you know, many years ago. She was only sixteen years old and fated to die. And she looked at me with tears down her cheeks, and her eyes were filled with almost hatred, I would say, for everything I represented at that moment. And she begged me to find a way for her to live. I tried to stop her from facing the Master. I tried to go in her place. But if you had ever had a slayer of your own, Quentin, you would know. You can’t stop a slayer. She made the choice, and I had no say in it. She bloody cold-clocked me, and I was unconscious on the floor.” Travers chuckled again. “Yes, do laugh at my pain,” Giles muttered. “My jaw was purple for a week. My point in all this, Quentin, is this: if I didn’t love her so much, I wouldn’t fight so hard for her. I couldn’t stay up night after night, researching and losing sleep because I needed to find the smallest bit of information that would give her even the smallest advantage. I wouldn’t work so hard at her training or pick up a sword and fight beside her. You think my love for her is a weakness, but I’m telling you that it’s a strength.” Travers nodded as he stood. “I hope for all our sakes that you’re right about that.” And then he turned and walked out of the house, glancing up the stairs once before closing the door quietly behind him. “What do we do, Giles?” Buffy asked softly. She came down the last few steps into his view. “How long have you been standing there?” She shrugged. “Long enough. How do we keep Robin from becoming the next slayer?” Giles crossed to the staircase and leaned against the railing as he thought. “Assuming another potential slayer is born within the next year, she would have to reach fifteen, I think, before we could be certain she would be the one Called. Fifteen is the prime age to Call a Slayer, and Robin would be past nineteen.” Buffy nodded. “So we have to keep Faith alive another sixteen years. That would make her what? Almost forty? That’s doable, right? I mean, what’s the record for oldest slayer?” He dodged the question. “We might have a chance as long as Faith is in jail and not actually functioning as a slayer. But when she is released… Well, she’s always been much more reckless than you.” “Not to mention more psychotic.” She came down the remaining steps and leaned against the bottom banister in a pose to match Giles. “She’s locked up on a whole laundry list of stuff, isn’t she? I mean, she’s not getting out anytime soon, right?” He nodded slightly. “But, Buffy, if you… Well, after the last time… there was no new slayer Called after the battle with Glory. You had only been… gone… f-for five weeks, but if the evil had become too much for us to fight alone, the Council would have activated the next slayer.” “They can do that?” He stared at her for long moments, and then her eyes widened with comprehension. “Oh. I get it. They would have killed Faith. Harsh.” Giles didn’t respond, so Buffy summarized their discussion. “So, the game plan is for me and Faith to celebrate our over-the-hill, big four-oh birthdays. Doable, right?” He smiled sadly. “We can certainly try.” Their eyes locked. They each knew they were lying to themselves. Robin would be the next slayer. *** “Morgaine?” Sabrina closed the spellbook she was studying. “What’s up?” Morgaine shut the door behind her, raised her hand, and murmured some words beneath her breath. It must be something serious indeed if she felt the need to ward the room against prying eyes and ears. “It’s Willow.” Sabrina pulled herself to the edge of her bed. “She’s not thinking of leaving, is she?” She had really hoped to use Willow for the next few spells they had to cast, not to mention the grand finale. It would be such a shame to waste such power, even if it would count towards her 280. “No, but she’s starting to ask questions. I think she’s been talking to her friends. I don’t know what they’ve been telling her, but she’s asking about the bodies, about the four who tried to leave before.” “Hmm…” Sabrina began to pace. “We have to cut her off more completely. She spends most of her time here, but she still goes to her apartment sometimes. We have to make sure she spends all her time here. And we have to break her trust in them.” Morgaine nodded in agreement. “Yeah, but how we gonna do that?” “Leave it to me. I’ll talk to her. I’m good at reading people. It’s all about listening, my friend. If you listen hard enough, it’s like they write your whole half of the conversation for you.” *** “Are you sure about this, Buffy? We don’t have to go.” Giles was sitting on the bed with Robin, trying to get a pair of shoes on her feet, but she was busily occupied with trying to fit a doll’s dress over her stuffed rabbit and moved every time he had the shoe almost on. “You’re the one who insisted that we should get back to life as usual. Me to work, Dawn to school, and you to the Magic Box.” Buffy was busy with a similar activity: trying to put shoes on Alex. She was hampered by the fact that he wanted to tie the laces by himself, and she wouldn’t let him. “Routine and stability are what she needs to regain her sense of security, you said.” “Yes, well, I may not have exactly known what I was talking about.” “Oooo, can I have that in writing?” He gave her a withering stare before taking the rabbit from Robin’s hands. “Here, luv, let me.” He couldn’t believe he was putting doll clothes on a stuffed rabbit, a quite dirty one at that. It probably wasn’t the cleanest before the fire, and now it was a dingy gray. They would have to wash it when they got home. They had taken the children shopping after Dawn returned from school, buying clothes and a bed and toys. Dawn and Buffy had perhaps gone overboard with the girl stuff, oooing and ahhhing over dolls and Barbies and miniature kitchens with tiny plastic food until Giles wondered who they were buying it for. Alex remained firmly convinced that Robin would want a certain robot to play with, and he allowed the boy to add it to the cart. Robin, herself, had no opinion, not pointing out anything to them, simply watching with wide eyes. She ducked her head into Giles’ shoulder anytime passerby tried to talk to her. Out of everything they had brought home, Robin was only interested in which doll clothes she could fit on her stuffed rabbit. And now Giles sat with the damned thing in his lap, his large fingers fumbling with tiny buttons, reminding him of those first weeks of dressing a squirming Alex in tiny baby clothes and his frustration with the small fastenings. He handed the dressed toy back to the girl, and she was contented enough to sit still as he put her shoes on. “I’m sure John and April will understand if we want to reschedule,” Giles said. “C’mon, it’ll be nice. Alex will have fun. You’ve been researching all day. You could stand to get out of the house. And Robin will just be attached to your neck no matter where we go. Dawn’s managed to forget about the whole Spike thing, which should last maybe a day. And I know I would like to just be a normal family for once, without demons and slaying and stuff. It’s just one evening. Let’s just go.” So they went. The Tims lived in a modest one-story house with a large fenced-in backyard, complete with swimming pool. Dawn and Alex both had to be told that it was too cold to go swimming. April answered the door. She was a tall, slender woman, with long dark hair streaked with gray that she had tied in a knot at the back of her neck. She smiled as she greeted them, making a fuss over the children, which Alex loved and Robin shied away from. She led them into the backyard, where John was busy grilling. He seemed caught off guard when he spied the two small children. “Who’s this little doll?” John asked as he attempted to tickle the little girl. Robin made a face and swatted his hand away. “She’s not good with strangers right now,” Giles apologized. “This is our daughter, Robin, and our son, Alex, and Buffy’s sister, Dawn.” “Nice to meet all of you,” John replied. Alex held up three fingers. “I’m free,” he informed the man. Not to be outdone, Robin extended three fingers as well. Giles smiled. It was the first time she had shown any interest in interacting with anyone but him. “You told me they had a three-year-old son,” April scolded her husband. “You didn’t tell me they had twins.” “I didn’t know,” John insisted, giving Giles a look that clearly said he would pay him back later. “Can I get anyone anything to drink?” April asked. “Milk,” Alex requested. “Cocoa milk.” “One chocolate milk coming up.” Buffy, Dawn, and Alex followed her into the house. John turned back to his grill, flipping chicken breasts and spreading on more sauce. He was shaking his head. “Two three-year-olds at your age? You deserve a medal. Either that or a stern tongue-lashing for forgetting to tell me. I think April has some Ginkgo Biloba in the kitchen you could take.” “Ha bloody ha. This is actually the first day she’s been with us.” And then came the story of her abduction, carefully edited, and a brief mention of her return, also edited so as not to disturb the young girl. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you,” his friend offered. “Summer break is in less than two months, and then I’m free as a bird. We could tag team them if you want.” Giles chuckled. “I don’t think that will be necessary. I think I can handle them both just fine.” “You say that now. You’ve only had her a day. Wait two months and tell me that again. Twins, walking at the same time, usually in opposite directions… You’ll see.” Giles adjusted his grip on Robin. His arms were becoming very tired. “Why? You have twins?” “No, thank God. But April and I did have our first two less than a year apart, so I have a rough idea of what it’s like. And I was much younger and more energetic back then,” he added with a poke at Giles’ side. Robin didn’t seem to like that and batted John’s hand away with a petulant grunt. His eyebrows rose, and he chuckled. “Someone’s a wee bit possessive, eh?” Giles was similarly surprised and amused. “It would seem so. I must warn you: if you don’t cease teasing me, I shall have to sic her on you.” They both laughed at that, and Robin ducked her head against his chest. They talked until the chicken finished cooking. Giles confessed that his daughter hadn’t spoken yet, and it was beginning to concern him, so John made it his mission to coax at least one word out of her. He knew lots of silly stories and songs, having taught second grade for a number of years, and he tried them all out. Giles couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, even as he felt the pang of disappointment at his friend’s failure. They rejoined the others in the house, Alex immediately bounding over to his father. “Look, Daddy, look!” he cried. “Doggy!” He dragged the poor thing over by one ear for Giles to see. Giles knelt down and took his son by the hand. “Be nice to the doggy, Alex. I’m sure he doesn’t like that.” He covered the boy’s hand with his own and demonstrated how to pet the animal properly. “Want doggy!” his son demanded. Giles would have said no, but he watched as Robin’s hand stretched out to pet the animal too. “We’ll think about it,” he said instead. He set her down in front of him, so she could better reach the dog, but that ended her interest in the animal. She turned and desperately tried to climb back into his arms. He sighed and lifted her as he stood. They sat together at the table and ate. Robin sat in Giles’ lap, but still wouldn’t take anything he offered. He neglected his own meal in his attempts to feed her. Perhaps wanting some attention of his own, Alex fussed over his food, even after Buffy cut it into tiny pieces, insisting that he wanted to be fed too. Buffy sighed and pulled the boy into her lap. John and April shared a knowing look across the table. Dawn asked April all the cop questions that Buffy couldn’t answer or that Giles didn’t want to hear: Did she ever track any serial killers? Had she ever been shot at before? Had she ever shot anyone before? Did she ever put someone away and then find out they were innocent? What was the most bizarre murder she ever solved? Giles could see that John was becoming uncomfortable with the conversation, as was he, so he deftly changed the topic to theatre, which Dawn was just as eager to talk about. Alex proudly announced that he had seen Dawn’s play and that she had kissed a boy. Everyone laughed. April and John were describing a performance they had seen in New York to Dawn, and Buffy was busy trying to make Alex use his napkin. Giles was nearing the end of his patience, trying to get Robin to eat something. He sighed in resignation and picked up a forkful of food. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “Zoom, zoom, here comes the airplane, open up.” He twirled the fork in front of her, and miraculously, she opened her mouth and accepted it. He smiled triumphantly and repeated his success. Then he glanced up and caught Buffy’s smug smirk. He blushed to the tips of his ears. “That was wonderful,” Buffy said when the meal was finished. “Yes, thank you for inviting us,” Giles seconded. “I’cream,” Alex begged. April laughed. “Well, we don’t have any of that, but we do have some of these.” She set a tray of cookies on the table, and the boy eagerly reached for one. “What do you say, Alex?” Giles scolded. “Tank you,” the boy answered around a mouthful of chocolate chips. Giles handed one to Robin, who, now that she had begun eating again, no longer had any hesitations about stuffing her mouth full of cookie. They said goodnight to their hosts. John glanced back and forth between the twins and again reminded Giles of his offer to tag team over the summer break, possibly even babysit some weekend before that if Mommy and Daddy wanted some time alone. “Nah,” Buffy said. “That’s what we have Dawn for.” “Hey!” her sister protested. “I graduate in May, don’t forget. And then your free babysitting days are over.” Buffy frowned. “No, if I remember correctly, you’re grounded until the twins graduate.” Dawn’s face darkened, and she stomped off to the minivan. Oh well, a perfect evening would be too much to ask for. “Well, the offer’s there if you want it,” John finished. “Don’t let him fool you,” April insisted, sliding one hand into the crook of her husband’s arm. “He’s not doing it out of the goodness of his heart. He wants to get some kiddy practice in before our first grandchild gets here.” John bowed his head, apparently found out. They waved goodbye and headed back to the van, Alex skipping on ahead of them. Giles kept a watchful eye. It was, after all, past dark. Buffy smiled. “See? I told you it would be nice.” “Yes, you were right.” She whistled. “Twice now in one day. I really need to carry a tape recorder.” She tugged on his arm and stretched up to give him a peck on the cheek. She was intercepted by Robin’s hand, shoving her face back. Buffy blinked in surprise. “God, possessive much?” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but Giles could hear the hurt in her voice. She reached out one hand to touch their daughter, and Robin recoiled. He could see the pain fill Buffy’s eyes. “Just give her time,” he murmured softly. “Yeah, time,” she echoed as she climbed into the minivan. *** Mustn’t say a word. Mustn’t say a word. Mommy told her that as she carried her out of her room. Robin blinked the sleep from her eyes and reached for Queenie, but they were already in the hallway and Queenie was still on the bed. She could hear awful noises downstairs and things breaking and her Daddy’s voice shouting. He sounded scared. Robin wrapped her arms tighter around her mother. Mustn’t say a word. Mustn’t say a word. Mommy said it over and over as she tucked her into the laundry hamper. Robin began to cry, and her mother’s hands dug into her shoulders as she shook her once. “Be quiet. Quiet as a mouse, Robin. You mustn’t say a word.” The lid slammed down, and Robin was left in darkness, curled into a little ball, watching through the tiny cracks in the hamper. She saw her father land on the floor. Her mother screamed, and there were bad men in the room, monsters with scary yellow eyes. They tore open the closet, looked under the bed and in the cabinets, constantly shouting, “Where is she?” One of them hit her mother, and Robin shut her eyes real tight and tucked her head into her knees and held her hands over her ears. Mommy and Daddy started screaming, but if she was good and quiet like a mouse and did as she was told… Mustn’t say a word. It got real quiet, and she couldn’t hear anything. She didn’t move for a long time after that. Then, she heard the fire alarms go off and was torn. Fire was a bad thing, and she was scared and couldn’t remember what they had taught her to do. Finally, Robin poked her little head out of the hamper, but everyone was gone: the monsters, Mommy, Daddy, everyone. She climbed out and tiptoed to the phone on little mouse feet. 911. She could do that. But nothing happened when she pushed the buttons. The phone made no sound. She dropped the phone and turned around. Everything was red. She sniffed back the tears and snuck silently from her parents’ room and into hers. Everything was messy and her covers were on the floor. The monsters looked in here too. She pressed her hands to her ears. The alarm was so loud. It hurt. She found Queenie lying on the floor and snatched the rabbit, quick as a bunny, and dashed across the hall to the office, to her special little hiding spot, where nobody would find her. Only big enough for her, she pulled the door tight behind her and crawled back as far as she could. It was dark, very dark, and she couldn’t see anything. She pressed her back up against the wall behind her and curled her knees up to her chest, clutching tightly to Queenie. The alarms sounded much farther away now. It was dark, and she was scared, and she couldn’t see anything, not even the tiniest sliver of light through the crack of the door. The darkness moved in front of her, molding itself into shapes and forms her imagination turned into monsters and animals moving closer towards her. She cowered deeper into the crawlspace, pressed tight to the wall, but dark things were moving. She could feel their breath on her skin. She could feel a cold, clammy hand on her arm. She screamed. She felt strong arms around her and continued to scream and to kick and to struggle desperately. A soft, familiar voice was saying her name over and over. The light came on, and she wasn’t in her hiding spot anymore. She was in bed with Giles and Buffy, and he was holding her. She started to cry, and he rubbed her back in slow circles. “Giles?” the lady asked. “I’ll take care of it. Just go back to sleep. You have to work in the morning.” “So do you.” He got out of bed and carried her into the hallway. Alex was standing in his doorway, wiping his eyes. “Bad dream,” he said. “Yes,” Giles answered. “Robin had a bad dream. She’ll be fine in a bit. Now, go back to sleep, son.” Alex frowned and shook his head. Dawn was standing in the hallway now too. “You wanna sleep in my bed, kiddo?” The boy nodded vigorously and followed her into her room. Now just the two of them in the hallway. Robin sniffled and laid her head on Giles’ shoulder. He took her downstairs, into the kitchen. He sat her on the counter, but she didn’t want to be set down. She whimpered and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. He sighed and picked her up again. “You keep this up, and your legs are going to atrophy,” he told her, as he reached for a medicine bottle on the top shelf. He struggled with the lid for a moment, finding it hard to open while holding her against his hip. “You believe in magic, don’t you, Robin?” he asked as he finally got the lid off. She nodded solemnly. “Good, because this is my extra special no-dream magic potion. Alex takes it to get rid of his bad dreams.” He poured some into a spoon. It was blue. She turned her head to the side when he tried to feed it to her. “Please, Robin. I promise you won’t taste it. It will help keep the bad dreams away.” She finally gave in and accepted the spoonful. He was right: she couldn’t taste it. Maybe that was why it was magic medicine. She laid her head back on his shoulder. She missed Mommy and Daddy, but she was okay when Giles was with her. She didn’t ever want him to go away like they did. *** Buffy rolled over, and then opened her eyes. The bed was still empty. Giles and Robin hadn’t returned yet. She looked at the clock: almost three in the morning. It had been over two hours. And Giles hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before either. She tiptoed out of her room and down the stairs. She found them in the living room and simply sat on the bottom step, watching unnoticed. It was a sight she hadn’t seen in ages: Giles was walking the floor with his child. It had probably been a year or better since he’d needed to do so for Alex. She remembered how she would sometimes sneak down the stairs like this to watch him. Sometimes she would catch him singing soft lullabies or telling the baby stories, half fairytale, half mythical saga of his mother’s own exploits. Sometimes Giles had looked as he did tonight: half dead on his feet. Those were the times she would take pity on him and take over the baby-soothing activities. That probably wouldn’t work in this instance. Robin’s arms draped limply over his shoulders, her head tucked up against his neck, her dangling feet swaying with his movements. Giles’ own arms were crossed beneath her butt to hold her in place, his head dipping down to rest against hers, his eyes drooping half closed. The poor man was exhausted. And yet, he continued to wear a circular path on the floor in front of the coffee table. Buffy leaned forward to peer through the railing. Robin’s eyes were closed. “Giles,” she whispered. His head jerked up sharply, as if he’d been caught napping in class. “I think she’s asleep.” She approached the two of them, stooping slightly to assure herself that, yes, Robin had finished counting sheep. “I know,” he answered, stopping his endless circle and now just swaying from side to side. “But every time I stop moving, she wakes up.” Buffy reached out and stroked the soft gold curls. The only time she could touch her own daughter was when the girl was sleeping. It broke her heart. Things were mending between her and Giles, but this was the hardest to bear and the hardest to forgive. She’d always known that she was Alex’s favorite and that it bothered Giles sometimes to come second. But Alex still loved his father dearly, would ask after him when he was gone, would bring him legos and cookies when he was sick in bed, and would even vehemently defend him when Anya got too harsh in her teasing. Buffy could understand if Giles was Robin’s favorite in the same way, and it even made some sense. Alex was more of a roughhouse kind of boy, outgoing and sociable, all things that suited Buffy. And Robin seemed like such a quiet girl. She probably should prefer her reserved, bookish father. But that Buffy didn’t even get a piece of her heart was beyond unfair. And even though she tried not to, she couldn’t help but blame Giles for that fact. She leaned closer to press a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. Giles stopped swaying for a moment so she could. A moment’s stillness was all it took, for Robin woke again. “See what I mean?” he grumbled as he resumed his circular pacing. “You know, I don’t have to go to work tomorrow. I could stay home and maybe let you get some sleep.” He smiled softly. “I’ll be fine, Buffy. I’ve gone many sleepless nights before while researching. And I do still think it’s best for Robin if we maintain some sort of stable routine.” “Yeah, stability, security, that’s what you’ve always been best at. Giles the rock.” He frowned at her as she said it. Perhaps she hadn’t completely kept the bitterness from her voice. She turned and trudged up the stairs, muttering under her breath, “Yeah, you’re exactly what she needs right now.” *** Giles walked into the Magic Box forty minutes late. Alex had been more than a handful this morning, perhaps feeling a bit jealous of the attention Robin was receiving. He had hidden all his shoes and by the time Giles had found a pair, the boy was naked. Robin started giggling, and trying to catch and dress one mischievous boy was nearly impossible to accomplish with one clingy girl slung under his arm. That would have been the end of his tardiness if Alex hadn’t also insisted on pouring his own milk for his cereal, which Giles would have never let him do if he hadn’t also been trying to brush Robin’s hair at the same time. The milk spilled everywhere, including on Alex, necessitating another undressing and redressing. Giles had almost wished that Buffy and Dawn had stayed home for the day. A stable routine indeed! Bollocks! Anya smiled brightly as they entered. “This must be your newly returned daughter. She’s very Ahhh!” She screamed and jumped back two feet. “What’s… What’s…” she shook her finger in Robin’s general direction, “that!” Giles looked down, baffled. “This? It’s a stuffed toy, Anya.” “It’s a stuffed bunny,” she clarified. “Why would you get your child something like that? You’re sick! Sick!” He sighed. “We didn’t buy this for her. It’s actually the only thing she has left from her old home.” Anya shuddered. “You should have let it burn.” Robin whimpered and clutched her bunny tighter. Giles gave his employee a stern glare. “That’s enough, Anya. The girl had nightmares all night as it was without you upsetting her further today.” She ran her hand protectively over her rounded stomach as she turned back towards the register. “Yeah, I would have nightmares, too, if you made me sleep with that.” Giles herded Alex into the side office with some puzzles and dominoes. He needed to do some research while he was at the store. He had some ideas about how to find those responsible for killing all the potential slayers, and he just needed a little time. It shouldn’t be that difficult. After all, he always brought Alex to the shop with him, and as long as he found something to occupy the child, he had never had a problem finishing his work before. Seven hours, one broken statue, one priceless volume of spellcraft ruined with chocolate milk, two temper tantrums, and four time-outs later, and Giles realized that he was sadly mistaken. Robin didn’t seem much of a bother in that regard, except that his arms were aching from constantly carrying her. He had done the same for Alex until the boy was one or so, but he had also weighed less than half as much at the time. But every time Giles set the girl down for even a moment, she was whining to be carried again. And without being able to set her down for even a moment, he couldn’t read some of the darker volumes he needed. He feared how she might react to the illustrations. So at the end of the day, he had only a stack of books to take home and study later to show for all his trouble. And Anya, as she left, informed him that, “It isn’t very professional to have children running all over the shop while customers are trying to buy things.” He rolled his eyes. “This from the employee who hoped to bring her own baby to work with her.” She frowned and shook her head. “Well, my child will be much better behaved. I’ve been reading parenting manuals.” “Yes, I pity the poor thing.” Giles was in a foul mood and had a monster headache. He locked the front door with finality, took Alex firmly by the hand, and started for the car. He was trying not to be angry with his son. The boy was only acting out. His world had changed overnight, and as much as he might want a sister, a three-year-old could hardly be expected to have any idea what that entailed. Over the next week, things settled into a pattern, and Robin seemed to improve with this stability. By the third day, he didn’t need to carry her constantly, although she toddled along behind him wherever he went. She sat in a chair beside him instead of in his lap. She fed herself without coaxing. She played with her brother, and his misbehavior died down somewhat as he discovered the joys of having a constant playmate. She still slept in their bed, curled up against Giles. Alex was allowed to sleep with them as well, and the pair wedged their parents to opposite sides of the bed. The nightmares came much more infrequently by the end of the week, helped along by the no-dream potion and Giles’ revelation that she was now terrified of the dark. A nightlight graced each corner of their bedroom now, and in the dim lighting she was much easier to calm when the nightmares did come. She smiled on a regular basis, and laughed as well. She colored and played with her dolls and picked out books to be read to her. She no longer pushed Buffy away when she came near Giles, although she tended to be possessive if anyone else was involved. Xander was not allowed to sit on the other side of her father. Only Buffy or Alex. She let Buffy touch her sometimes, although she was still leery of Dawn. And she would sit quietly on the floor outside the bathroom door without pitching a fit when her father was inside. But as much as Buffy wanted to play a bigger role in her daughter’s life, Giles remained her primary caregiver. He bathed her and dressed her and worked out how to wash her hair without getting soap in her eyes and how to comb her curls without pulling them. Anya even taught him how to do a simple braid. He was the one who walked the floor with her at night when she couldn’t sleep and the one she gave a goodnight kiss to when they tucked her in. He could see how much it hurt Buffy. She cried sometimes in their room alone, and he couldn’t even comfort her without bringing Robin in with him, which only made things worse. He didn’t know what to do or say, except to ask for patience. It had been over a week since the fire, and Robin had improved tremendously. Given more time, she would accept Buffy as well. But in all that time, even with all the strides she had made, Robin spoke not a word. In the past week, Giles had continued his research as well, nearing a possible solution. Magic left a taint, a trace, on those it was cast on, even after the spell dissipated. He found another spell that could trace the magic back to its source. He began assembling his ingredients. The last component would come in his mid-week shipment. After that, he would be able to cast the spell on Robin, to trace back to the ones who had used magic to find the potential slayers. And then his Slayer would kill them. *** Buffy was just washing up the last of the dinner dishes when the phone rang. It was John. She paused before calling for Giles. His friend didn’t sound just right. “John, are you okay?” “It’s April. She umm…” The man’s voice faltered. She heard him take several deep breaths. “She was investigating a lead on a case, I guess. She failed to answer a page, so they sent another car. They… umm… they found her.” He didn’t say anything more, and Buffy was afraid to ask. “Is she…? Is April…?” “No, no,” he quickly answered. “Her partner is. God, Scott had a wife and kids. We were supposed to go to his daughter’s fifth birthday party this weekend.” The man started to cry. Buffy could hear his shaking sobs over the line. “John, where are you?” “Sunnydale Memorial,” he managed. “She’s up in surgery. I just…” “It’s okay,” she said. “Giles will come. I’ll uhh… I’ll go get him. You can talk to him yourself.” She set the phone down carefully and stepped to the stairway, calling for Giles. He appeared on the landing a moment later, holding a dripping Robin wrapped in a towel. “What is it, Buffy? I’m rather busy.” She gave him the two-sentence synopsis, and he was hurrying down the stairs and into the kitchen. He had barely picked up the phone when the doorbell rang. Dawn was upstairs, keeping Alex entertained. Or rather, he was keeping her distracted from any thoughts of visiting Spike. So Buffy crossed over to the foyer. She opened the door, still focused on listening to the phone conversation going on in the next room. When she faced the new arrival, her entire train of thought completely derailed. Her mouth dropped open and remained there. She couldn’t even string together the words “Come in” or “Hi” or “What the hell?” “Hey, B.” Faith’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she crumpled into a heap right there on the front porch. ***Please, send me feedback, either by
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