Welcome to another one of my weird, quirky ideas. So after going through season VII of Buffy again, a curious thought hit me. Why Is it that none of the Potentials-made-Slayers are little kids? Potentials are found at young ages, so how is it not possible that at least one of them was some puny little tyke? Meet Cassidy, who is an overly hyperactive, rambunctious, power-abusive excuse for a ten year old—who just happens to have been called as a Slayer. When she's brought into the Summers home by Giles and brought to the Scoobie Gang's attention, they learn this is going to be harder than first thought. Essentially, raising a child with superpowers during the imminent apocalypse is a tough job.

I own no one except Cassidy. On with the show!

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When Giles brought the kid in, Buffy found her to be the most unremarkable-looking child she'd ever set eyes upon. Her hair was dirty-blonde, a slight unruly wave to the otherwise straight strands, and her eyes were a blatantly dull shade of reddish-brown.

There was a mistake. There had to be, Buffy was sure of it. Fate was never wrong, destiny was never wrong, but there had to have been an error.

"Giles—this is a….kid." the blonde grimaced, though, and looked the little one up and down. She was sure the girl didn't push more than four-foot-six or seven. The kid was hardly tall enough to cross the street on her own, let alone defend from the forces of evil and slay the undead. Wasn't there a height quota for killing vampires?

"Yes, I am aware of this, Buffy," The stuffy, British Watcher pulled his glasses from his face evenly, and busily got to work trying to wipe away all remnants of everything from them. "But the fact is that she's managed to stake a vampire who…uh…harmed her mother and she's told me she's been having some very peculiar dreams about several women. This is all remarkably young to be coincidental, don't you think? And all the help required is of the utmost necessity."

Buffy always knew that was what she hated most. When Giles was right. And it was an awfully typical occurrence.

"I want my mommy," the girl squeaked out, and pushed her knees against her chest stubbornly. The child had a sweet little face; Buffy would admit that, an innocent face that would make her seem at least two years younger no matter what age she was, "I want my mommy now."

"Get a load'uh the daycare center. What's with the runt?"

"According to Giles we're looking at Slayer numero three."

"Well, fuck me with a lawnmower. Are they runnin' out of us this quick? Or are they just makin' 'em younger nowadays?"

"Faith, she's just lost her mother. Can you tune down the 'tude a little? This has to be a little too much for her. She's nothing but a little girl. I—"

"I want mommy."

The girl's insistent pout read it all. She wanted her mother, but there was no way that would possibly work out. Too late to react to Slayer-reflexes she wasn't familiar with, the child had managed to slay the vampire so eagerly killing her mother, but had not been in time to save the woman from an imminent fate worse than death. As a result, there was no mommy. She lacked a mommy. There was no mommy to want.

"Great way to ring in the apocalypse, B. With a side-order of pre-K toddler." Faith's expression was smug, and she clasped her hands behind her head and leaned back into them. The little one on the floor finally sniffled, a meek sound, and rubbed an arm across her eyes to swipe the tears away. She seemed to be somehow assessing Faith, but the brunette didn't much mind it. She leaned over at the waist, pressed her hands to her knees, and then made a small coo. "What's your name, baby bird?"

"Don't say that to strangers."

"Her name is Cassidy," Giles cut in swiftly, and finally realized all semblance of dust was gone from his glasses. He found himself overwhelmingly satisfied. "She moved here only last year from Philadelphia. I caroused her academic records."

"Is it just Cassidy, or do your friends call you anything different?"

The girl sniffled again, deeper this time, and inhaled harshly through her nose. It even sounded uncomfortable. She glanced up again at the two Slayers around her—Buffy, whose mouth was drawn into a perhaps-smile, and Faith, who was half-knelt, an arm slung lazily over the knee of one leg.

"Cassie. My friends call me Cassie."

In the meantime, as Giles attempting to comfort the newly-ordained Slayer into a state of lulled ease, the Chosen Two (or had once been, were now part of the Chosen Several) were discussing this carefully with their backs turned.

"B, what the hell we gonna do with her? Play Connect Three?"

"It's Connect Four, Faith. And there's nothing we can do. No matter what, she's still a Slayer."

Neither of them paid much attention as a red-headed Witch sauntered into the Summers home, a stack of books swaying in her arms as she went. There was never a Demon Slaying for Dummies in there, or a Your Vampire and You text, as Faith always loved to joke, but Willow was an imperative part of the learning process. She'd overheard the brief, hushed mumblings, and saw the serious looks on both Slayer's faces. Serious was not an expression Faith, of all people, often wore, so Willow imagined the circumstances were dire in some way. And when it slipped past her ears, "Where's she stayin'? The kid's got no family," Willow realized just what the situation at hand was.

Giles had told her about this. She and Giles made a crack team, after all. This must have been the very little Slayer he'd said he'd be picking up. She was the right height, Willow saw, and it never ceased to amaze her how either cruel or strange the world could be.

This wasn't a Slayer. Hell, it didn't even look like a middle school student.

"I want my mommy, Mister Giles."

And Willow did the first smart thing that came to mine. Once she stumbled in, set down her pile of books carefully and looked over at the tiny blonde girl, she smiled. "We-We're your mom's friends, Cassidy, she asked us to…uh—to look after you!"

The tearful ten year old glanced backward, eyes big and brown and pleading, then her lip jutted out quickly into a voracious pout. She did not know who this red-headed woman was, but the word 'mom' was enough to catch her immediate attention.

Naïve, trusting and timid, Cassie sobbed in the back of her throat and nodded shyly. Something about the Witch set her at a state of infinite ease, but the child couldn't even begin to explain it. It was like warmth that she wanted back, one that'd been taken from her so quickly. When that mean man had jumped on mommy, she knew there would be problems. And when she got rid of the mean man and mommy wasn't getting up, something felt decidedly more hopeless than it had before. If the old, British fellow with the funny way of talking hadn't shown up, she was almost sure she would have clung to mommy and cried.

"Really? W-When will I see mommy again?"

"I don't think seein' mommy should be such a high priority on this kid's list." Faith shot, but the remark was stomped out when Buffy lightly smacked her upside the head. Lightly, however, was not really the word.

Buffy still sighed, playing a hand through her pinned-up golden hair with a slight grimace, "Let's go get her a room ready. Dawn's not going to like this sitch. Maybe we can keep them from meeting each other or something."

With a roll of her eyes and a quick mutter beneath her breath, Faith only groaned and followed.