All Over Again

by rngrdead1

He was too sick to raise his head, the vampire was bleeding out. They were both heroes in their own right, but saving both of them had a bizarre set of implications – not least of which was the chance to start again.

1. Chapter 1

Title: All over Again

Pairing: Spike/Xander

Warnings/Squicks: M/M relations (way later) and human boys (for now)

Rating: NC-17 (or MA 15+ or R?) There is violence and sex and vampires, and boys.

Summary: He was too sick to raise his head, the vampire was bleeding out. They were both heroes in their own right, but saving both of them had a bizarre set of implications – not least of which was the chance to start again.

Disclaimer: Characters are the concept of the wonderful Joss and Co. Don't make money from the writing etc etc.

Previous parts here

lj-cut

Part 1

He felt himself lifted easily and relaxed onto a soft warm surface, opening his eyes enough to realize it was an ample bosom. Without thought, he began to mouth the surface under him, only to have his efforts redirected and a further adjustment made to his position.

A large hand pressed an enormous nipple dripping milk into his mouth. After a baulked start and minor fuss he latched on. It was body temperature, sweet and salty at once and… almost like blood.

There was cooing and rocking and he was so full that when he finally gave up the prize and was summarily hoisted over a shoulder to have his back rubbed, he embarrassingly burped up a little of his meal, whimpered some and was enveloped in those arms again. How could any chap be expected to stay awake after all that...

"There's my good Billie boy… shhh… ahh my dear one… that's it… shhhh…" The rocking continued, it was all too much to comprehend, so he slept.

Spike was in and out for the entire day.

He was aware enough to realize that his fists were in soft cotton pouches for reasons he could not fathom and that his body simply would not obey his mind. When he tried, he managed to get his arms to flail a little, but for some reason struggled to hold his head up when it was not supported, and there was apparently no way he was able to sit up.

When he tried to express his frustration, there was only crying available, garnering more feeding, having his nether regions 'checked and changed', and if he continued, a series of different individuals lifting him and walking with various measures of rocking, patting or jiggling, around the room until he calmed.

Further efforts to communicate an hour or two on were similarly treated, though smiling at the large set of blue eyes and lovely smelling person, seemed to garner a delighted reaction. Reaching for a brightly colored object suspended over his sleeping space seemed important though rolling over onto his stomach did not include the ability to roll back apparently, and led to embarrassed snuffling and eventual a cry for help. After which he was calmed then congratulated for his efforts with rocking, statements of 'There's my clever boy!' and more feeding... And there had to be something in that milk... he just could not stay awake!

He came to as the enormous wad of stuff between his legs (frustrating but necessary as it seemed his body had its own timetable regards relieving itself) was removed, and G#$ didn't it feel good when everything was finally taken away, even though it apparently signalled being lowered into the warm bath. Initial panic gave way to the happy knowledge that his head was (thankfully) suspended above water. He instinctively kicked, then relaxed into the delightful weightlessness, and wriggled with pleasure as his nether regions were gently sponged down toward the end of the experience.

Rubbed down with a towel, powdered and pampered, he even tried to suck on the finger of the pretty female as she wrapped him tightly in the thick white towel and carried him to another location, only to have his 'catchment area' covered, forehead kissed and (thankfully) hands left free.

By the end of the day Spike, 'my little Billy', still worried some. Everything was such an effort and he really did seem so very tired all the time.

He realized his humanity but wondered at the reason. The last thing he knew was there was a dragon... and... The little boy yawned even at the thought and was pushed back onto the nipple he had forgotten about. The tiny blonde fed a little again but fell asleep mid suckle, was wrapped tight in a soft pale blue rug and lowered gently into the cot.

A slightly larger baby with a head of dark hair stirred enough for them both to register the presence of a familiar body and relax, after which two tiny month old boys settled and slept.

Half a world away, and a day later Willow was still stressed, "They really will be happy though? Giles this is a terrible…"

"You know as well as I that Spike insisted he help… and you know for a fact that Xander was…Willow, there is no cure for advanced AIDS and we all knew the prognosis when he came back…"

"But what are the guarantees – I mean…I had no idea that when we… Oh Giles!"

"Mistress Lydia will keep us informed. And they will be raised in a loving environment, nurtured and attended… and though it is only a couple of days on, from all accounts they do seem to be healthy human baby boys… Admittedly they will have all their original adult memories but surely that is an acceptable price… Really my dear, we could do no more."

Part 2

Of all those killed that night, Spike had cried the most for Angel, they had just begun to reconcile and now...

In the end Spike and Illyria were the only two and the demons just kept coming. Lying in the pouring rain, covered in demon filth, he still crawled to the spot near the dragon carcass and smeared the filthy water that he knew contained the dust of his Grandsire onto his face. He thought he heard the 'next wave' so forewent his desire to grieve and curl into foetal position as he knew another needed his help.

The 'halfling' Illyria thought of as a mere Pet, had voluntarily stood in front of her as the hoards approached knowing full well she was the stronger of the two of them, yet he defended her. So now, as a Wolfram and Hart 'disposal' truck backed its way 'bleeping' up the alley to dispose of the embarrassing evidence of the night's altercation, she observed him as he continued to bleed from a gaping stomach wound and rubbed a little more of Angel's 'mud' on his face.

Spike knew he was mere minutes from dust but managed to lift his filth covered face to look at the Old One in her petite blue guise, "Please (!) make it worthwhile! Let something good come of… this."

Generally disdainful of the majority of humanity, Illyria cocked her head, then seemed to decide something.

She lifted the broken form of her ally, "I do not understand your chivalry but yours is a gesture that should not go ignored. I shall return to the country of the Battle Brand where you say you began as a human and find the one you referred to as 'Red'. The good you speak of is linked to her."

Sadly Spike failed to hear the speech, feel the preternaturally strong hand put necessary pressure on his major wound, nor see the flash that finished the remaining demons and transferred them both to a coven in England.

That evening, as the blonde vampire lay bandaged in the coven infirmary alongside a second dying figure and fed blood direct to his stomach to keep him from dust, Illyria was in conference with the elders of the coven.

Though her time on the current Earthly realm was limited, she was still extremely surprised by the solemn respect, deference, and gratitude shown her. She was offered food and rest, then assistance in her determination to return to permanent slumber with the other old ones.

She quickly ascertained that the one the vampire spoke of as 'Red' was both wise and powerful (though her habit of speaking too quickly when excited was somewhat irritating). However, she did seem to have an ability for magic unsurpassed by others in the realm.

High Mistress Willow could feel the other being's power – everyone could!

"Who is the second in this room? He too is connected to you?"

The young nurse-come-wiccan tending Xander moved aside, and Willow stroked the forehead of the (thankfully) now sleeping Xander. "Yes… He is a hero and my best friend from childhood, a friend of Spike… um the halfling's, too.

"They fought together? They were allies?"

"They lived together. Spike saved his good eye…"

"From an agent of the First. Yes, I remember that story. The vampire was most articulate, if somewhat random, in his thoughts as we sparred. I now understand. What is wrong with the human? He does not smell correct."

"He is dying of a terrible virus AIDS - it... affects humans. He was helping those who had the same affliction when he contracted it."

"The best of humanity has an apparent death wish which is difficult to fathom and unfortunate. But I admire his willingness for sacrifice – I would want such a one in my army." Illyria touched the inert foot then looked genuinely concerned, "You have feelings for both of these beings - but mostly for this one you call Xander. You are powerful. Can you not solve his various bodily concerns alone?"

"M… G… Illyria, there is nothing we can do now. He contracted it and continued to help others until…Human ways have no cure and there is no other..."

Illyria rounded the bed and stood with her hand on the too pale, marred forehead, "He carries other spirits, not as old as I, but strong. Is it not wrong that these two beings in the room – and their carried demons - should die without accolade, without reward?? The blonde one attempted to shield me though he was the lesser being. He displayed great valour and was loyal in ways I have struggled to understand. You speak of other battles, and I note that… this Xander… has also been marred by his efforts, though again did it willingly and without thought for himself.?"

Willow watched desperately as another bag of blood was attached to Spike's feeding tube and the nurse boosted Xander's morphine to close to lethal limits. "He… he was so brave… Mistress Illyria… I um… he was a mere human but has spent his short life… saving… the world and we just didn't know and now..."

"In exchange for your willingness to assist me, I will assist your friend but all will be lost if I do not have the vampire to agree to your friend's survival."

Spike barely understood the question from the pretty blue being, but enough that someone of their number might survive, so without the power of speech (courtesy of the feeding tube) he nodded, and hoped Illyria understood the 'thank you' in his eyes before he closed them against the pain.

……………….

Post Sunnydale averting the apocalypse, Xander had gone to Africa as he had always jokingly threatened. Ebola and marauding hippos be damned, there were hundreds of children orphaned by AIDS and plenty of organizations who could use his help. His building skills were very much appreciated, naturally jovial nature a godsend, plus his Hellmouth upbringing was truly a plus as not only human but demon families were affected.

Sadly two years on, his own situation mirrored that of his charges. He worked on at the refugee centre and kept to himself and his symptoms hidden.

There were nights when he had cried in pain as an unwilling oesophagus convulsed against an ulcer that no one could see and he didn't truly understand but just knew was there. He endured desperate leg cramps as his body struggled against a silent aggressor, but put it down to lack of salt. And the weight loss was attributed to his near vegetarian diet and lack of appetite... and repeated rounds of dysentery and possibly worms not helping!

Eventually he had walked to his friend Gerard, the refugee camp's wonderful French born doctor when unaccountable bruises began emerge, and a too thin hip bone began to ache even though cushioned by a (admittedly hardish) mattress and prevented sleep. The pained look on Gerard's face as he reported the blood tests said it all.

By the time he was on the plane to London, he weighed in at just on forty nine kilos and needed help to ascend the steps. Willow had met him with something he knew to be a horrified gasp at the airport as he was wheeled through the 'green door' at customs by a fellow aid worker, who burst into tears as Xander greeted Willow weakly, then fled.

……….

The 'White Hat' from Sunnydale, the one eyed good natured man, accepted that his unprotected liaison with Eunice, his fellow aid worker was from Mozambique, had condemned him. They had sought comfort amongst desperation amongst spiders and other crawling night creatures, and exchanged fluids.

The noble nurse and mother of two surviving children, never realised her terminal legacy for the jovial, kind American friend. Ironically, before he knew he was sick, her children were orphaned, not by the disease but an incident that saw the car she was travelling in fall victim to a target happy youngster with a rocket launcher… He had left the children all the money he could when his own illness drove him to England, the Grandmother was grateful, and the dying friend cried with the girls and kind carer for a woman that spent her life devoted to others.

Being ill seemed to make everything raw, admissible, exposed. He admitted all to Willow but also mused that it was ironic.

The boy that had stared down the mighty Angelus; lost an eye to a preternaturally strong Caleb; revived a Slayer; and complained of lack of 'non demon' female companions, had contracted his own killer in the most pedestrian (and time-old) ways, and had signed his own death sentence as a by-product of the first world - third world split that saw more orphans produced in a year than the entire population of Australia and New Zealand combined.

He remembered reflecting that the demon community of Sunnydale (or anywhere) had nothing on humans as he watched yet another emaciated child die crying soundlessly with her desperate mother begging staff for drugs that, he knew, though willingly donated, were never coming, likely to have been sold for 'favours' five hundred kilometres away at the port.

He had never prayed so much as in that place, appealing to every deity he knew that worming tablets, antibiotics, morphine (!) might somehow arrive to the same establishment, if only that a lethal dose could ease the way of a tiny girl whose missing lower leg (courtesy of a mine), that was festering and slowly bleeding out, might have her way eased. There was no dignity in death.

Six months on he had put the continued fevers and dry cough down to the heat or a mosquito borne illness. He threw himself into working for the greater good, as he always had, but in his heart he knew something was not right.

It was easy to put all thoughts when one found oneself the project manager with a seemingly endless stream of well meaning volunteers to build houses for local grandmothers who took in not only their own but also the three neighbours' remaining children. The local communities nominated the worthy recipients and Xander worked on.

Two years later, he continued to build sturdy beds for the hospital, his co-worker and 'lean to building mate' Raoul worried.

Xander remembered the afternoon. He had felt ill all day but continued working, and all it had taken was the lovely Gerard, the long suffering, war weiry, doctor from Toulouse saying, 'Xander are you OK? Raoul said you were…' before all went black.

He remembered nothing of the ensuing three days and as his only family contact listed was Willow, he was air lifted to a military airport, transferred in Cairo and transported to the UK… 'for treatment'.

Willow had taken the urgent call, and four days later, was the one to accept the wheelchair containing her desperately ill friend at Heathrow. His passage through Customs and Immigration was eased by the mere fact that he was incapacitated, dying, and carried papers that indicated he was an Aid worker for the Red Cross… and was 'being collected'.

That evening, as he was loaded into the back of a specialized taxi, and quietly thanked Willow again, he had tried to very hard to give a 'Sunnydale' smile, though when his old friend turned away and pulled a tissue from her pocket he assumed that even that had been a futile attempt.

Willow's warm hand held love and desperate concern but there was… so he tried to smile again.

Swallowing hurt and he was so thirsty but also wanted to apologise to Willow, yet a dry tongue and mouth prevented it. He knew the lesions were unsightly, and did manage to stem a tear before accepting the water bottle produced by one of Willow's acolytes. The prick in his arm was everything… and he silently thanked the nurse for 'blissful black'.

A month later – and despite western drugs and palliative care, his tongue was ulcerated, drinking water hurt, and he just wished he could be more chipper for Willow's daily visit.

In the last week, when he had the energy, he had taken to pulling out the various tubes and monitors, only to have attentive professionals on their third night shift in a row, come running. His dying logic was impeccable really – there were many others in Africa who needed the medicine more than he and… He kept trying to explain that!

But his state of health determined it. His fate was no longer within his control…and he was just so tired all the time…

So he sent prayers to various deities for 'those who needed it more'; tried to smile when the children of the resident wiccans tried to cheer him with music (though one had to wonder how very tone deaf their conductor might be to tolerate the din!?); and patted the rather portly, elderly labrador dog as it was led through the infirmary as a 'comfort pet' for some reason Xander could not really be bothered with.

……..

It hadn't been so strange really. That day, the day of their miraculous change, Xander had opened his eyes to an old friend, or enemy, in the bed beside him. He heard the discussion, the vampire whom he assumed dead(er) had once again played hero and was now mere minutes from dust. Glazed blue/yellow eyes were staring at the ceiling while the limp body was stitched, bound and had a feeding tube inserted. No one deserved that, and he sent a silent prayer that Spike was at least now, beyond pain and would, wherever he 'went', find love and peace.

The chanting began, and Illyria delivered her promise, blasting the room with energy, and included the ill human friend in the spell, as his own prayer for clemency for Spike was caught up in the mix. The two male humans would be given a second chance, and Illyria the peace she so craved.

Seconds after the blast Illyria was gone, and two tiny baby boys were lifted from the beds that so recently held their damaged adult forms.

Xander's first new conscious thought was how very comforting it was to be wrapped tight and to feel another body similarly bound, along side.

………………….

A year on as Willow's fellow wiccans celebrated the Summer Solstice, the Senior Mistress was driven to tears as she sat presiding over a communal dinner. A tiny dark haired boy pulled himself up, stood triumphant then toddled three steps to be caught in the arms of his delighted, adoring, adoptive mother.

Willow knew there could have been no better choice for mother of the boys. The wiccan was still heavy to the point of pain with milk, when the two were changed.

Mistress Charlotte was in the adjoining room of the infirmary resting the day Illyria arrived with Spike. The wiccan had tragically lost her own two day old boy to a catastrophic aneurism, but a day and a half before.

The attending paramedics could do nothing for the newly named Justin, the post mortem scan was conclusive, and the distraught mother had only just managed to stand for the ceremony as her dear life partner, Trent, himself in tears, lowered a coffin barely larger than a shoebox into the tiny grave.

Trent was one of only four men at the coven. A quiet and serious scholar with warm aura and even warmer hug. His energy was part of the group that boosted Illyria's power. And as soon as the rather extraordinary power abated and the evidence seen, had begged the High Mistress Willow that his Charlotte be allowed to feed them.

And so it was that a tearful Charlotte, nourished first the dark haired, pretty Alexander, then her resident cuddler,'little Billie'. And later that evening, both parents had embraced their existing daughter and joined the coven members and their natural born daughter Blanche as they blessed the boys and fixed their naming day.

The boys were turning one soon and Charlotte's first born, Blanche, was the quintessential dark red haired older sister to 'the boys' - bossy, protective, magically gifted, and, at six and three quarters (!), without a fault, one of the best motherly types in the coven. Indeed Charlotte sometimes wondered who was the mother in the room!

Willow smiled at the pint sized redhead as the budding wiccan held little Billie fast whilst his brother walked from Charlotte toward a very proud Trent. By colouring he could well have been Alexander's biological parent and certainly rejoiced in his role.

Alex's brother by adoption watched on, knowing that he had mastered ambulation on two legs some month earlier and, despite wanting to talk to Willow, gave in to his own current limitations and giggled as Blanche taunted her blonde adoptive brother lovingly by rubbing his favourite soft toy bear against an exposed tummy. Minutes later his outstretched arms were rewarded by the capturing of the prize and a warm hug in a sweet smelling young girl's arms.

The boys were lucky but Willow had not forgotten Illyria's statement before she vaporized into blue smoke. The body was new, but the soul and the memories would be those of her old friend(s). It was 'necessary' and she worried what that might mean.

In the beginning Willow had spoken to them as adults, explained that it was part of the agreement… part of the plan. They were being 'rewarded', given a second chance for their efforts to help the 'greater good'. There was no error in that it was to occur in an out of the way, rural locale, protected by wards and distant from any major demon activity (though some would argue so many witches living on a pretty old estate in Berkshire, England, could attract its own set of problems), as the two were legendary in the demon realm and still carried magical signatures that might prove problematic.

But it didn't take long, and there were only a few more 'one way conversations'. Observing two little figures sucking on toys, crying with a new tooth, and grinning wildly as peek-a-boo was finally understood, and she began to genuinely forget their heritage.

For two little boys their greatest hazards seemed to be that they were surrounded by more oestrogen, motherly love and hugs than the average human garnered in a lifetime.

In their lucid 'adult' moments, both Xander and Spike reached for each other wondering at their fate. The trouble was still growing bodies that would not cooperate by speaking and other issues like the gentle care and simple amusement, food on demand, and the loving attentions of sixteen coven women in addition to their new parents and sister, that distracted.

They were also privy to being flung joyfully into the air by very strong hands, had tummies 'rumbled' by a mouth attached to a rough chin, and between sleeps on one occasion were perambulated to a spot by water after which tiny hands were encouraged to wrap around what Spike knew vaguely from his adult memories to be a fishing rod. Neither of them had experienced that the 'first time around'.

Alexander tried to listen to the adult conversation as another little body squirmed in front of him and strong thighs held them both safely. The male he now knew as Papa, was worried by his compatriots wriggling, and the fishing rod was placed aside as a consequence. Finally, several sets of female hands rescued him as he too began to fuss, word free in an effort to indicate his hunger.

They were bathed and fed a vitamised combination of pumpkin and… Alexander really didn't care, he was a pudding man and would down anything to get to the apple and semolina at the end of the meal! Spike was the fussy eater at the best of times, and had been ill with a fever three times in the last two months. Consequently, and through no fault of his own, Billie was smaller, lighter and was breast fed more often than he ate solids.

The coven was soon to host the annual Solstice meeting of all the witches of the British Isles, but the message from Giles on screen was clear. The two in their care were living out a prophesy. But surely these two had paid enough! And how was the coven to have known? How could two little boys ever…?

She observed the happy fishing party returning from their afternoon in the sun, hit delete then text messaged Giles.

Prophesies, after all, were always open to interpretation.

Part 3

Alexander only had a bottle in the evening these days, strangely proud to be congratulated as the 'big boy', and now even an older brother to the family's newest addition - Poppie, but his adult memories of Africa kept returning as his blonde brother by circumstance continued to have health 'concerns'.

Three nights in a row Billie had been crying and unable to sleep with stomach pains and vomiting… again. As soon as the two had begun eating solids the trouble had started. William had constant, terrible nappy rash and tried not to cry when a new nappy was gently eased back on. Luckily living where they were he sometimes got away with delightedly toddling around in the garden and playing nappy free… (though there was that one incident with the ant bite on his tiny willy!)

But lately it had become more than that. It seemed that the nights of pain (for worried parents and Spike) were becoming more frequent. An exuberant Xander was often left in the care of his big sister while his mother took William to the children's ward at the hospital yet again.

Blanche was generally OK but it was not always a pleasant experience and she tended to smack him on the leg then 'tell', for dragging one of her favourite dolls through the mud… But even the adult Xander was confused, it was only a little bit of mud, and the doll washed… where was the harm?!

His Charlotte and Trent had both been to hospital with Billie this time, Charlotte needing to nurse the new little one and Trent too distraught to drive, they had called an ambulance. This time it was serious and Xander had cried, he remembered seeing the vampire doing as similar thing when the chip fired badly and knew there must be so much pain. Little Spike had a virus that caused a fever high enough to result in a full convulsive fit, after which he had passed out completely. All the healers in the coven had come at a sprint but hospital was really the only option – if only to confirm the reason.

Really, little could be done for the fit or his other ailments – which also accounted for the susceptibility to every cold or flu that came along until the results of yet more tests came through. So Xander cried again and was pulled up into the arms of his wonderful adoptive father as he returned from the shops with Blanche and one of the wiccan acolytes, his toddler and adult mind shocked by the scene of a tiny blonde boy lying listlessly in his extremely worried mother's arms, being encouraged to ingest a rather nasty herbal remedy. The little boy whimpered but finally took the mixture then tried to suck at a bottle of warm camomile tea to wash away the horrid taste.

African memories of sick children mixed with an injured, self sacrificing Sunnydale vampire and the desperate illness of his own all returned as he observed his brother by default coughing back some of the fluid then crying quietly as his mother rocked him.

Trent took him from the room as the little brunette continued to cry, and distracted him by sitting him in his lap to watch Thomas the Tank Engine, episode… who cared… yet again. Adult Xander didn't miss the cup of tea delivered, or the worried conversation and words of encouragement from the other wiccans. Xander rolled over and cuddled the broad chest as best he could manage just as 'George' tried to outrun the trusty Thomas and the fat controller had to step in. He loved that part, but his dad was sad because his brother was sick and, well, a cuddle was really all he could do.

Less than a day later the coven knew, William was wheat and lactose intolerant, and needed to be monitored carefully for the emergence of other allergies as he grew, they still could not pinpoint the reason for his extreme sensitivity to light, though Willow suspected as his vampire memories saw him reflexively cry in fear if exposed to sunlight unprotected. His preference for a liquid diet – and eating red things – she also had her suspicions about.

In contrast, just on twenty two months, the only health issues Xander had had were a few falls and new teeth arriving - requiring cuddles and bandaids for the former and anaesthetic gel and paracetamol for the latter… always particularly grateful when large strong arms lifted him and a deep voice comforted. Inevitably then there was rubbing and rocking until he felt better and able to join his brother again.

Spike did wonder if his illness was part of payback for his vampire days… and though the memories were tending to fade, they still haunted his dreams sometimes. But his biggest bother as Spike's older memories wafted in and out was his terrible trouble with toilet training. He simply could not seem to predict his needs enough in advance… and gave in to tears more than once at the humiliation of having to stay in a full nappy rather than the 'pull-up' training pants of Xander's.

The doctor had explained to his parents that it would 'even out' once his diet was sorted out and he was well again. The aware adult Spike understood on some level but he really couldn't help but cry when, yet again, his bowels seemed to release of their own accord, or yet another stream of warmth was added to the now hefty wad of damp padding between his legs. It all seemed to 'come out' of its own accord, often meaning sitting in his own 'doings' until someone realized his efforts to tug at the top of his tiny pants, or cry whilst trying to say 'Poos' to a nearby big person.

Billie/Spike's only compensation in all the illness and toddler trials, was that he was still allowed the breast on demand – and seemed like it would be almost all he could eat until things settled. He did know, however, not to plant his sharp new teeth into the source of lovingly given liquid. The warmth and the semi prone position was a joyful one, and he always tried to stroke the soft skin and cuddle… But sometimes she tricked him when he fed, and he would wake up a bit confused next to the huge dark brown teddy bear in his bed, having lost several hours of his day! The nice part was that sometimes it was his brother-by-adoption not teddy and the cuddles were real.

It took several months to truly work out a diet that worked, but as Billie improved he played more and truly began to love the existence - even if running often involved a nasty tumble, or things that he would have liked to play with were put just that much too high.

Their second name day was celebrated in fine style with gluten free everything – finger food for small people – lovely platter of fresh fruit – with an emphasis on strawberries and all things red! Little vegetable pies made with gluten free flour, rice crackers, and tiny dry roast potatoes that were all mushy inside and presented on a plate in the form of a pyramid.

The cake was in the shape of a large Thomas the Tank Engine – but Billie knew that he was not to eat the icing, and his inner Spike was actually quite relieved – ingesting that much blue sugar stuff could not be good for anyone, but Xander was in his element!

The party was a big afternoon for the two as all the coven children and several local friends were invited. Billie did do the best at blowing out the candles, though rather disgraced himself late in the proceedings when Blanche would not let him have the 'dangerous' toy car left lying on the ground by one of the older children, putting it just out of reach. The inner Spike was incensed! He just wanted to look and really could not understand why it was so upsetting, but gave in to his frustration and two year old sensibilities, and threw 'a wobbly'.

He screamed and tried to get his message across by throwing himself to the floor and kicking as hard as he could as he yelled – and that felt good for a while, until he realized that no adult was taking a scrap of notice, so resorted to out and out howling, at which point Trent firmly but kindly, picked him up off the floor and put him to bed. There was no mother, so no 'booby', but the firm arms around him and stern but kind words were strangely calming, and he had slept through the departure of all the other guests.

At two and a bit Alexander could throw a ball and was able to connect a bat to ball if thrown slowly enough. Old memories were amused and thrilled when a hard hat and toy toolset were presented to him by a friend of Trent's, and everything… but everything went 'Brrummmm'.

His best days were when he was allowed to collect the chicken eggs from the coop and follow one or other wiccan around pulling an ancient old 'trailer'. They gave him the important task of taking the full trolley of herbs or vegetables – or both - back to the house, and the highlight was always if Willow was there – she was at the coven less and less of late.

Alexander was always the most enthusiastic in the bath, and would remain in the toy infested waters splashing and blowing bubbles long after William had begged to depart in favour of the fluffy towel. There were many comments of admiration from his carers alluding to his future in water sports of any description – even synchronized swimming or deep sea diving were mentioned after discovered the delightful pastime of plunging to the bottom of the bath and holding his breath for what seemed an age.

The adult Xander remembered his love of water, and ability to swim so clearly that it really came very naturally, and his most fun was in summer when Trent took the boys (and a few taggers on) to a nearby town with 'children friendly swimming centre'. One of the other male wiccans was a wonderful swimmer and took Alexander on his back as he did breaststroke up and down the pool then dived like a dolphin and came up again causing the adult Xander inside to join with his little self in whoops of delight; the feeling of being thrown from one strong pair of arms to land in the water to be caught safely in the hands of another, equally thrilling. His only frustration that despite how hard he tried the best he could do was kick enthusiastically, or manage a very inefficient dogpaddle.

Alexander might have outgrown William by height and weight, and had physical skills very different to William's own, (and was most definitely the male coven members favourite), but the pint sized blonde had it all when it came to getting what he wanted from any wiccan at the coven (or human visitor it seemed).

He was an expert at hugging, and sought the altitude and warm arms by putting arms up and levelling begging baby blue eyes at his hapless helpers. They were then rewarded with a blonde head on a friendly shoulder, little arms and legs holding on tight at any opportunity. And, if tired, the sweet boy would simply relax, quite happy to be adjusted a little and stay on a hip as the adults went about their business.

William picked up language at an extraordinary rate, had a remarkable memory and quirky habit of naming people that was entirely charming… "Sexy Anna" – Charlotte's best friend at the coven; "Nanna Ella" who was a lovely buxom woman at the small grocer's in the village; "Will-like-me" after High Mistress Willow compared their names; and "Big Paula" for one of the tall wiccans who regularly minded the boys when their parents were busy (why she was noted as 'big' exactly no one was quite sure of – she was really quite petite!). By two and a half he also used the phrase "Ah Pet!" when exasperated with someone, which was really was quite amusing and made Willow wonder again just how much of her old friends were really just 'playing them' inside their now pint sized beings.

The odd part was that above all the boys seemed a perfect complement to each other and that they were easing more and more into their old personalities – albeit human and pint sized versions. One thing was abundantly clear, they were both budding wiccans with noble traits carried over from their previous life.

At just approaching three, Little William was heard to growl when a young boy from an adjoining farm tried to take his tiny sister Poppie's favourite toy rabbit when they were at the shops. Twice 'her Billie's' height, Charlotte watched in amazement as the pint sized blonde (only just now weaned for good) followed the growl with a "No!" then grabbed back the toy and stared down the other boy.

Alexander was similarly inclined – even defending Blanche on two occasions, or more truthfully standing at her back in solidarity then going to get an adult when things led to tears (girl fights were so confusing!)

And as for the two together – well, no one touched one without the other intervening in defence.

Two days after their third birthday, Willow's cross referencing of the prophesy (assisted by Giles and three learned ex Watchers) finally came off. An extraordinary meeting of the whole coven was called immediately – strangely involving the two children whose future was the only topic on the agenda.

Part 4

William and Alexander were confused and just a little miffed.

The other coven youngsters (including their older sister and even Poppie!) were led off to enjoy an impromptu picnic at the bottom of the coven grounds, but they were ushered into a room in the main coven building that was always closed to them before and was full of all the senior members of the coven.

Facing an enormous table, they were lifted up onto very big dining chairs with arms for safety and extra cushions for the boost. Even so William could barely see over the lip of the oak piece, and certainly could not make out the faces of those sitting opposite. He held the arms of his huge chair tight and his inner Spike mumbled a nervous "Bollocks" and the little boy appreciated the kind touch of his mother's hand followed by a kiss to the top of his head, as she too settled nervously.

Xander fared a little better view wise, managed to catch a drawn looking Willow's eye and gave her an innocent wide eyed child's smile. He then spied an elderly man sitting next to her conferring quietly with Clarence and dropped his gaze. Clarence was a senior wiccan who Xander usually gave a wide berth as she always seemed grumpy and had said very audibly, on several occasions, that 'children are a ridiculous idea when our world is dying'. As Xander's father patted his arm and told him 'it was going to be OK', he suddenly remembered the man opposite from his 'before'. Giles smiled sadly at him as the wide eyed youngster began to stare again and Xander's old memories of 'war meetings' with the Scoobies came flooding back. This had to be bad.

The meeting started all very formally a Blessing was invoked for all present and the boys were greeted as 'special guests'.

Mistress Willow spoke to the agenda first, "We are here to discuss what we believe to be the most accurate translation, and interpretation of the prophesy regarding our two young coven members William and Alexander." Willow smiled kindly at the two wide eyed little boys.

"Most of you know their history at this safe haven, though few of you might realise their status prior to their 'second chance', nor why… how it occurred. So… I think it is important that we give everyone a brief overview." With that, Willow placed a pile of documents in the middle of the table and the older coven members each took one before the High Mistress began again, "I would go through all of this but there are a couple of key points in each biography that I think you should note. Please don't bother taking this in the Minutes."

By the time the greetings were over and the previous meeting's actions had been reported on in brief, the two boys had slumped back into their chairs unhappily, wanting desperately to struggle down and join the other children outside but knowing instinctively that their parents would disapprove if they fidgeted too much.

Alexander picked at the tassels on his cushion and felt a little better when his father put a kind hand on his upper back and began to rub lovingly. His inner Xander began to listen again as the exploits of his previous self were summarized for the group, but in the end he just concentrated on the warm hand and the calm it engendered.

Will drew patterns on his cushion and let things go on around him as the meeting began. He was genuinely thankful for Charlotte's kind touch as he saw his brother comforted also. He patted her hand as Charlotte sighed heavily with worry, then, like his adoptive brother, began to listen actively, and with increasing distress, as his past life was 'dot pointed' for the audience.

Both boys had settled so well into their new lives of late that it was rare for old memories and selves to take prime position in their psyches. But as battles, losses, triumphs and despair was articulate everything flooded in again both began to sob uncontrollably, reached for their parents and, despite their weaning (in Xander's case over a year earlier!) both boys took turns to accept mother's breast milk. The prize was meant for Poppie, but Charlotte knew, the boys needed it more for the moment.

As Charlotte put her pinky into the corner of her 'right side feeder', the now calm William's mouth and released the suction, she realized, with not a small measure of shock and annoyance, the meeting had continued with little regard to her boys!

Wide ranging debate had occurred around the table regards 'vampire with a soul' and 'ghost made real'; 'Senior partners and 'the Aurelians'; Scoobies, apocalypses; good works in Africa and chip/dechipping; demon and spirit additions to a human soul; and various other things that Charlotte and Trent (now cradling quietly crying children) preferred not to hear.

Both parents knew their sons' histories on an academic level, but the daily reality was so different, and their dear little boys were so much a part of their lives now that it was nearly impossible to think of them otherwise… and yet today… Trent had pulled Xander into a tight hug, and Charlotte had repositioned William so he too was enclosed in protective arms.

Giles did not miss the innocent, tearful wide blue and brown eyes levelled on him from the two boys ensconced safely in their adoptive parents' arms as he began to reveal the contents of the prophesy. Both boys hugged their parents tight as the old reinstated Watcher/Wiccan Elder began to speak.

"The two blessed each other and will be restored as an ancient One returns. The Tentacled One will require the magical pair as her champions upon their manhood, and in return will restore their full spiritual and demon essence to strengthen and enhance.

"Mystical powers will lean heavily upon them across eons as two are joined as one, in life and unlife, their souls, spirits, essences and love shared. With magicks and memories combined, theirs is the task to unite white and black so Gaia may once again find peace."

At the end of Giles' speech, William sat bolt upright in his mother's arm and his inner Spike spoke the next perfectly articulated words, "Bloody Hell! Can't a couple o' heroes rest in peace… Just for once?!" The tiny blonde then passed out into an openly crying Charlotte's arms, as the dear wiccan sobbed, "Please don't take my boys… Please you can't take the boys!"

In the end, there was no argument.

The boys were to be warded and protected, trained and tutored in magic and fighting, and in amongst everything, live as much of a 'normal' childhood and adolescence as anyone might manage in a coven in Berkshire, England.

The distraught Trent and Charlotte and their two charges were ushered to their semidetached house on the south side of the main Coven's wall by an exhausted looking Mistress Willow and her pretty blonde partner, Livvy.

Kind hands bathed the boys, tended Blanche and Poppie and settled all the children before feeding the two distressed adults. Home made leek and potato soup, several stiff drinks then talking late into the night quelled the most immediate fears but did little to stem Charlotte's distress. She had lost one boy already... it didn't matter when or how, but she was not going to lose two more!

In the end Trent calmed his beautiful partner... They would have many years to come with their boys, but the prophesy was clear, Will and Alex were destined to 'be' together (whatever that meant); would have their demons restored sometime as they matured; and would act as Mother Earth's champions.

Charlotte had cried herself to sleep hours ago, but Trent stood between the boys' beds. Two tiny figures, his boys, his dear, dear boys! They had already suffered so much… that had been unequivocally detailed in the meeting… and yet now!!?? Now they were to be burdened, tortured, set apart all over again! Why???

He could still hear Charlotte's hitched breath, even as she slept and left the boys' room for a moment, to check on his dear partner and then Blanche who seemed to have picked up on the family's distress and was crying in her sleep. He brushed away the red locks from his eldest's brow then kissed her… and something shifted in his thinking. If this was about family and together, then destiny would have it so, and their boys would know just how wonderful it was to be loved and belong regardless of what else happened.

Two weeks later…

Tonight was to be a fortieth birthday party of their adoptive parents, a relief of sorts after all the worry regards the implications of the prophesy. It seemed the whole community was invited - village, coven and friends of old. Blanche had been given the task of dressing herself and the two three year olds. A task she took most seriously.

The boys' adoptive parents were born on the same day in the same hour. Astrologers the world over would have cringed at the prospect, but anyone could see, Trent and Charlotte were two parts of a whole. Trent's long strawberry blonde dreadlocks and Charlotte's chocolate curls (with just a hint of grey these days) were often seen mixed together as the two sat on the huge garden swing for a few hours of a Friday evening (their night 'off'), and when Charlotte was upset, Trent was her 'rock' and vice versa. Their aura, when combined, was a glorious deep aqua and purple with occasional flashes of all the other colours of the rainbow.

The dreadlocks had come since the coven – though prior to that Trent's pretty gold tresses had fallen in a ponytail, all the way to his backside, indeed in their courting months as they rode through Europe on push bikes, the two had been honked and whistled at from behind – the assumption that they were two girls on bicycles, until Trent's goatee was spotted!

The guests varied from old university friends, to Trent's mother and step father, from all the families (bar one) off neighbouring farms, to the village greengrocer and her same sex partner, 'Nanna Ella'. The marquee was set up, heater installed and masses of hand made 'finger food' prepared as the old coven oven worked overtime. An industrial sized pot of home made vegetable soup and mountain of freshly baked Turkish pide was the triumph of the cold night and the wine flowed freely.

Poppie was put to bed after the first hour, but Will, Alexander and Blanche managed to greet all of the guests at the door, though Blanche became increasingly annoyed as her brothers garnered all the attention. She had worn a sensible pair of jeans and pretty, very fashionable, aqua long sleeved top that one of the young coven members had bought her in London earlier that month. She had her hair braided properly by 'Big Paula' and had tiny aqua/clear plastic butterflies all through her dark red tresses. Really it was only her Aunt Susan who complimented the tall ten year old on her "lovely outfit… and sophisticated hair", asked her about school, and pressed a package into her hands with a wink and conspiratorial, "Just a few things for your scrap booking, you said sea theme at the moment, right? Don't let the boys see." Blanche knew that would be no problem, her brothers, were too busy stealing the show.

Alexander had insisted on wearing an embroidered white and gold matador's shirt that he found in the dress up box, along with a broad yellow tie (circa 1975), blue jeans and his little yellow gumboots (well… they matched the tie!). While Will went all out, insisting on his pink and diamante, buckle up 'party shoes' (a donation from six year old Emma on the adjoining farm), a set of tiny stripy purple thermals (top and bottom) – and gold lame halter neck top which hung to his knees (found in the dress-up box).

Every new arrival grinned and complimented Will on his shoes to which he replied proudly that they were 'only for parties'(!), and Alexander had so many comments on his tie that he began to hold it out just a little, when greeting new guests.

There were so many children of all ages at the event that the two little boys lost track of time and where their parents were.

They began by trying to run after the big children, but the two three year old boys eventually retreated to the children's play room where two of the younger wiccans had set up a number of areas for the 'pre schoolers': A wooden train set complete with farm animals, face painting and dress- ups, and some finger painting plus a huge vat of bubble mixture right near the window so the bubbles could waft outside. There was also a mattress with numerous soft toys and plush blankets in a special 'tent' in the corner ready for any younger visitors who needed to snooze.

A few older siblings came in over the evening though generally preferred the room next door, temporarily converted into a video/computer room and Alexander found a a wonderful big fifteen year old boy who 'challenged him to a sword fight with sticks and seemed very bad at it, letting his little combatant hit him repeatedly! The inner Xander kept screaming 'rigged fight' but his three year old persona simply bounced with delight, then was thrilled as he was hoisted onto his fellow fighter's shoulders and walked around the party 'up on high' for a time.

Will, on the other hand, became tired early. He had missed his afternoon sleep in all the excitement – Alexander, as usual, fell asleep effortlessly around midday as soon as he lay down on the old couch with his Panda. The others were playing and Alexander was off with the big boys, so Wil wandered out to the adult marquee. There were knees and feet and lots of noise, and he squeezed through as best he could.

The people holding glasses and food and talking were nice and smiled at him, but he really wanted a cuddle. Finally he recognized the brown denim covered legs of 'Sexy Anna', put his arms up and was lifted into a warm hug.

Will made sure to hug Anna properly before sitting up a little in the strong arms, pointing at the platter of fruit on the drinks table, and saying in his best 'polite' voice "Strawbie??" He was rewarded with two, both so big he had to eat them in several bites. He was settled onto Anna's hip for a time, then passed to Papa Nanna ( Trent's mother) who always smelled of violets and found him some of his special vanilla rice milk which he drank dutifully. Papa Nanna eventually handed him on to his Aunt Susan who found him another strawberry, and he grinned at his brother who he spied on some big boy's shoulders following another mob of bigger children. But eventually Susan picked up the signs as a little head relaxed on her shoulder, the arms started to go limp and tiny body became heavy.

By the time his father took him inside, Will was all but asleep and barely registered the soft covers of his parents' bed or the 'bunny rug' being tucked around him. It was quiet and the room smelled of family. He could hear Poppie snuffle a little in her bassinette, wondered if there would be candles and singing later, then relaxed completely as his father rubbed his back before he…

Charlotte smiled as she delivered an overtired and crying Alexander onto the bed less than an hour later. Her 'little Billie' stirred enough to snuggle up to his brother, Alexander calmed instantly, flung a small arm over the blonde's torso and promptly fell asleep.

A lumpy blue blanket, Will's pink party shoes and Alexander's Thomas the Tank Engine sock-clad feet were all that was visible to departing guests who passed a partially open bedroom door. An exhausted Charlotte and slightly tipsy Trent joined the boys on the bed eventually, not bothering to disturb the cosy pair. The parents smiled across at each other and thanked the Powers for the wonderful evening and asked Gaia to bless their family once more. Charlotte's last thoughts were of the prophesy, followed by worrying for her biological children, her beautiful girls. If the prophesy was true then the coven would need to prepare all her children.

In the moonlight flooding their bed, Trent noted the slight frown on his partner's pretty visage. The next decade or two would be a challenge but every parent knew that… they just had, well, one or two extra challenges to face with the boys.

He sought out her hand and squeezed before both let sleep take them.

Part 5

The local village school was a 'community school' populated by children of the village, the coven and the surrounding farms and 'country retreat' estates of the resident yippies (upwardly mobile new age folk from London who procreated late, caused an upgrade in the few village food stores, renovated old houses, and imported their wine).

Consequently Alexander and William had a lovely time – always calling their teachers by their first names, were well treated, had many friends and numerous examples of their art work adorning the ancient fridge in the communal coven kitchen (and theirs at home!).

They began their magical studies the day after their eighth name day as was custom but knew to keep that knowledge strictly 'family' business.

By the time they entered high school, Blanche was leaving the Coven to live 'in digs' at her University of choice, Oxford. Her passion for History and ability as a writer in both English and French seeing her through her secondary studies with marks in the top half a percent of the UK. Her teachers all encouraged her to take Law, but she had been single minded in her quest to become a sociologist/archaeologist. She had been school Vice Captain and organized just about all the final year social and service events.

High School was a very different matter for her brothers.

Like their sister and the majority of their peers at the coven, Will and Alex went to the comprehensive school in nearby Caversham doing well initially, but both struggling to fit in, particularly at age fifteen in their third year, as their 'differences' were noted and challenged. Not that they didn't do well, or have friends, but there were that other 'group…

Fifteen year old William was sitting outside the Head's office… yet again!! He pressed the icepack against his damaged cheek with his right hand, struggling not to wince, and contemplated explaining all this and yet another pair of broken reading glasses.

His assailant was leering at him from the opposite chair and kept mouthing 'Die Goth' and 'Loser Emo!' making ridiculous gestures of a knife cutting his wrist and sticking his tongue out in a poor impression of the seventies band Kiss, despite the boy's father being present. Indeed the large man with arms folded across his chest and legs spread wide seemed almost to endorse his son's behaviour.

Will knew that his wiccan training meant he could give the boy an incurable and very unsightly case of facial acne – or even genital warts at a push – but also knew that their mother Charlotte would be very angry, or worse, Papa Trent would be 'disappointed'. It was bad enough that he had been in a fight.

As he drew the ice away from his badly bruised cheek, and tried to remind himself, he was better than the loser bully on the other side of the waiting room anyway, the boy had no idea by how much. A far older memory bubbled to the top and his inner Spike growled but he restrained the urge to articulate.

In his new life he had had done Karate for seven years – the only reason he wasn't a black belt was that "You have to be sixteen", according to Sensei Richard. He had been studying at that level five times a week for almost eighteen months and was undisputedly the best fifteen year old fighter in the county – and southern England as of a month previously, fast, clever, and dedicated… But at school, his parents had ordered all their children were not to use any of their special skills when in confrontations (and how he wished Hogwarts was real!)… except for one, he was allowed to run, and he was a champion at that, sprinting short distances as easily as he out ran just about anyone over the mile, any distance appeared effortless.

Sadly, at fifteen, William still seemed to attract trouble, and to some extent so did Alexander, but this altercation was about another student. The lug opposite had been picking on a seventh grader, a quiet, rather withdrawn twelve year old, Josh, who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Somehow it had come out that Josh had same sex parents, attempted to verbally defend them, and things went down from there. With lunch money gone and a rock thrown at the hapless youth, Will had stepped in. He regretted that Alex was away in London at Crystal Palace that day with the school county swim team, otherwise he would have stood with his brother in solidarity, these days they were usually inseparable.

William had stood his ground in front of the frightened younger boy, literally growling "Stay down 'til I say then run!" as the mob of senior boys levelled for an attack. In the end he had used every defensive move he knew from sparring (and a couple of extras from older memories) to fend off the attackers, happy to note that in spite of forgetting to say 'run' at the height of the melee, Josh had crawled away unnoticed, then took off.

Finally the biggest of the group, the 'king' bully, with the assistance of two of his 'minions', managed to hold him as the head bully rugby tackled Will to the ground and began hitting him in the head repeatedly. Will kneed the huge opponent where it hurt most, in a desperate act of self defence, causing the larger boy to curl up and whimper pitifully. Sadly it was the last part that was witnessed by the duty teacher – the assumption being that there were only ever two boys involved.

Will waited quietly as the other boy and his father were ushered into the Head's office after three of his 'concerned friends' exited. Each one making time to state in an undertone, "You are so F#ed. You stupid little Goth!"

Ten minutes later the head bully and his father exited, Will's unscathed opponent grinning, and mouthing repeatedly "Your F#$ed Freak!", and not failing to 'accidentally' kick the leg of Will's chair on the way past just as Mistress Willow came into the waiting room. She levelled a withering stare at the boy who out weighed her by at least fifty or sixty kilos. The boy was about to mouth "Witchy Mama come t' save ya", but the woman's eyes flashed black and the previously smug bully chose to scurry away, his nether regions inexplicably chilled and trying to re-enter his body.

Willow settled beside the obviously hurting, distressed William as they waited for the Head to see them and patted his knee reassuringly. "You OK honey?"

William shrugged and really couldn't look at her, but managed to mumble, "D'ya know? 'Cause it was Josh?"

"He called home from his mobile, honey. He escaped thanks to you and hid behind the Science building. Rachel and Carol are both on their way. They rang the coven… he said it was you…" Willow patted his leg again. "You did the right thing honey, I know what happened – well at least, what we could make out from his call."

Despite the acknowledgement, Will looked up with the begging eyes of a truly pretty youth, "But…Papa… Trent! They won't understand… I shouldn't have fought… but there were six of them! And they were kicking and really trying to hurt him… Really hurt him! So I… Geez! I'm not sorry… but I… Willow... I really just wanted to…"

Willow took the boy's hand then pulled him into a hug, whispering, "But you didn't… Now… It'll be OK honey."

Will pulled away then looked up with begging eyes and Willow's breath hitched as he simply said, "I hate this place Mistress… Please… Help me!" with tear filled blue eyes.

Willow could not help it, the older he got, the more like Spike, William seemed to become.

The breaking voice might not have the resonance yet, but the stunning blue eyes, ever more defined cheeks, lithe form and deliberately messy dark blonde hair with its occasional blonde, red and black streaks matched an increasingly dark aura. Willow took an extra breath herself. She was Aunt Willow and this was William, hero to a fault, intelligent, a survivor, and Willow knew he still carried enough old memories to make killing a snap, but the transition to manhood this time around, was tortuous as it had been the first time.

Willow put on her best resolved face, smiled a little and tapped under Will's chin (indicating he should walk proud!) before he stood as the Head, Mr Donovan's door opened and they were ushered inside.

The High Mistress was dressed in a classic corporate black long skirt suit, fashionable gold silk scarf and four inch heels. Her white hair was swept up in a turtleshell clasp, and with elegant silver and rose stone accessories and touting a muted gold, designer laptop bag, she looked for all the world like a corporate lawyer rather than the 'wierdo hippie Aunt from the next door village's commune' as Mr Donovan had expected.

Despite the Head standing, she waited for him then all others to settle before taking her seat, then settled herself whilst eyeing each calmly in turn.

Apart from the Head of School, two other teachers were present - the duty teacher who had witnessed the 'heinous crime against the rugby star', and the Pastoral 'Head of Year', all felt just a little nervous facing a woman who seemed to exude power.

The Head of School began in a well practiced, rather patronising (though he would later argue 'conciliatory' tone), "In the absence of William's parents, I do appreciate your time, Ms…Rosenberg, at such short notice. I am very glad you could be here, though am sorry it could not be under more pleasant circumstances. Please… take a seat."

William slumped into his chair and stared at the bag of ice he still held in his right hand. He had lost the gold back of his favourite earring in the foray and really wanted to tell someone… or talk to Alex… or Blanche… or just get a hug from his Mum. His Mum would understand… so would his Dad if Willow spoke to him first. Will stemmed a tear… His cheek really did hurt! And the hole in his ear where the earring had been partly torn out was still bleeding a little.

Trent was in London with Xander at the South East swim championships, and he knew it was Poppie's mid-winter performance, so mother was there. Consequently, at fifteen years of age, he really appreciated that Willow, so absent from the coven of late, had dropped everything and come to his defence when the call was taken at lunch. But, despite him knowing from the before that she was a friend and powerful and… he still wished for… his Mum and Papa Trent!

Willow picked up on the anguish and leant over to pat the boy's hand, at the same time pulling a small laptop from her bag, positioning it carefully on the large oak table and staring hard at the Head, Mr Donovan.

The Head began with no more adieu, "As my assistant would have explained to you, there was a very serious incident here on campus this morning, one which involved William and one of our best Rugby forwards, Justin Mattherson. Our duty teacher Mr Davis here witnessed the final moments of William's attack on the senior boy."

Willow went to reply, but was cut off as the Head teacher continued.

"It is both sad and atypical for a student with such an obviously outstanding academic record to also have the 'track record' of William here. It seems that despite his academic prowess in almost every subject thus far, and of course his running and music, he also seems to flaunt school rules and struggles to fit in.

"Any consequences will of course be discussed with his parents post fact, but Ms Rosenberg, it seems that several uniform violations, our need to remind him regards his hair colour and length following 'the break', and William's recent violent actions toward other students would indicate a definite trend toward defying our school policies and an attitude toward authority that is quite disturbing and best 'nipped in the bud' as it were.

"I am well aware that boys will go through a rebellious stage, and do need to be brought into line for their own good, and that he is growing up in… [he cleared his throat unusual family circumstances where being 'different' is encouraged… and although we do, of course, embrace 'diversity' [said with the inverted comma finger gestures that simply annoyed everyone! here at the school, his current physical violence involving another student warrants stiff reprimand."

Willow reached for William's closest hand and squeezed gently, out of sight of his interviewers.

"I have spoken to several witnesses, including a number of the senior boys and the other chap involved, Justin, and will be suspending William for three days. After which there will be the necessary two week probationary period when we will consider his future at the school. It is not a fait à complie by any stretch of the imagination, but I would ask that you and his parents consider that he might be… better suited to… well… an alternative mode of schooling."

Willow struggled to keep her eyes their innocent green rather than sliding to black, even so, her 'resolve' face and tone were not to be trifled with, and the Head of School found himself silenced by the petite wiccan as she sat forward, deliberately leaned her elbows on the wide desk that separated them, then began speaking whilst freezing the three staff members present with an icy stare.

"I cannot speak to William's breaches of your uniform code, but am really struggling to see how issues of hair and dress are compelling factors in the context of today's 'serious events' nor the appropriateness of his remaining at the school. My nephew appears to have a badly damaged cheek which has had no more attention than some cursory examination by an unqualified staff member and some ice from the staffroom. And for your information, contrary to whatever reports you may have had, William was forced to defend himself against not one, but many assailants in order to protect another student, a student, who by the way, has had no support when bullying was reported by his parents and teachers on three previous occasions.

"Our coven is adjacent the Harvey-Page's property and we are well aware of the neighbours desperation as little if anything has been done to assist their son this year.

"Your duty teacher today was not in the area to observe any of the 'beginnings' was he Mr… Davis? Though I do understand that it is nigh on impossible to be everywhere at once when in the yard, what surprises me is the method of reporting, willingness to accept inaccuracies and untruths without all the facts, and the follow-up post incident.

"It seems Mr Donovan, and colleagues, that with limited facts, and a focus on the sporting prowess of the older boy, the three of you have already decided that William here was the perpetrator of this 'incident'. Did you think to ask the real victim of the piece? Do you even know that Josh Harvey-Page was able to call home only after he was saved from an angry mob of your senior students, headed up by your treasured rugby star? The same 'star' who had his older followers divest a twelve year old Josh of his lunch money by force, followed by taunting, pushing and punching him, and if I am not mistaken … not for the first time? Are you aware that Ms Harvey-Page felt compelled to pick up her son and have him examined by a doctor immediately following the call?

"What exactly are the school's bullying policies Mr Donovan? I accept that William may have done the wrong thing in engaging in any fight but if he is to be punished for rescuing a younger student from such a mob, my question is, what is the school ethos and practices that it would allow such serious a situation to escalate over weeks to the point where it is up to a fifteen year old to defend a twelve year old friend against half the senior school?!"

The Head looked rather stunned, "That was not what we were led to… I hardly think that is the issue. Fighting is a serious matter…"

Willow stood, "I see." The Mistress' ire was up. She levelled near black eyes at the Pastoral head. Mr Johns, "Were William's marks acceptable last semester?"

"Well, of course… um A…As… well except Manual Arts… that's a B minus…"

"And is he generally well behaved in class?"

"Well yes… always!"

"And he participates in extra curricular activities – music and sport?"

"Ahhh… yes…"

"Hmmm, I will not excuse William for fighting, Mr Donovan, as it is something neither I nor his parents would agree with, however I suggest very strongly that you reassess the incident after speaking to the Rachel and Carol Garvey-Page who I know for a fact, are on the way to the school as we speak. Regardless I assume you will be suspending the other boy also."

The Head cringed a little at that, they needed Justin for the Friday match against Ealey Upper – a suspension would put him out of the team, but now it seemed there may be no choice, and it also meant another meeting with Robert Mattherson, former president of the school council and well know local businessman.

But Willow wasn't about to let him off the hook, "I do insist that you have the teachers send home the work William is to miss and allow him to take any tests under my supervision. We will consider the future of William, his brother Alexander, and the twenty seven other children of our coven that attend here, after this matter has settled. And if we cannot be assured that our children are learning in a tolerant, safe, academically stimulating environment, I will be engaging a solicitor and contacting both the school Board and the Ministry of Education to explain the reason for so many students withdrawing at the one time."

The Head was still a little gobsmacked as the petite redhead stood, nodded politely to all present and without further adieu said, "Good. We understand each other. I will take William home with me now and leave you to resolve the rest. You can expect a call from Trent Theodore in the morning. As you are well aware, he is in London with Alexander at the Regional Swimming Finals."

With that Willow swept out, William too miserable to even contemplate that she would have looked no less commanding if she had been six foot five and dressed in the new King's full regalia. His inner Spike sulked, remembered all the times he had been in trouble in the other life and unlife, but thankful that Willow remained silent as he dejectedly pulled books from his locker then followed her to the car.

Charlotte was home and swiftly became extremely upset as Willow led William into the coven cottage that housed the family, but the Mistress intervened and began to explain as William skulked off to his and Alexander's shared bedroom.

He grabbed his iPod, thrust on his head phones, and flung himself face first onto his futon without bothering to push it out of 'couch' position'. Head under a large cushion, he flicked through his iTune selection and proceeded to play as much pained and angry music as loudly as he could whilst letting tears finally fall. His cheek hurt, his ear was throbbing and the only reason he hadn't lost his favourite iron ball earring was that the blood had already dried around it when the back came off.

Charlotte came in some time later with a plate of home made tomato and basil soup, glass of water, plus wet warm face washer and jar of arnica cream.

She didn't miss the slight tear and dirt scrapes on his grey pants and rip in his black sweat shirt, and heard the slight whimper as she lifted the pillow and eased the earphone out of an obviously damaged ear.

"C'mon sweetie… Willow said it's been a long day…" That was all it took, William managing to get out a hitched, "Oh Mum… It wasn't… I… just need a hug!" At which point Charlotte abandoned all intentions of tending the fifteen year old's wounds, instead pulling him up and across her lap (with effort – he was just shy of her height, and weight!) until he leaned against her ample chest.

The boy, now crying hard into her shoulder, her sensitive Billie, always had a tough façade for all looking on, yet was blindingly intelligent, thoughtful, genuinely courageous for all the right reasons, and had a magical aura matching any of the best wiccans in the coven. Yet she worried for him. And not just about the prophesy that had hung over all their heads for so long.

It seemed that what made William great could also destroy him so easily. He sought approval, and seemed to think little for his own safety or value his own triumphs be they sporting, magical, musical or academic. She hugged him tighter and whispered, "I know what you did, my Billie… Willow told me… it was very brave… and it'll be OK… Just… Shhhhhh… C'mon… Shhhh."

Eventually she did bathe and tend his wounds with gentle strokes, and waited while he ate his soup. Placing the water on the bedside table, she kissed the now prone boy, handed him back his music and said, "Alex and Papa will be home soon. I'll talk to Trent… and you are not to worry OK?"

Later, as William lay in the dark listening to an old tune, The Fray's 'How to save a life' just one more time, his father entered. Instead of the 'disappointed' speech he expected, however, Trent simply sat on the side of the bed in the wan light from the hallway as William pulled out one ear phone. "I can't say you did the wrong thing by fighting this time, son. Did you hurt them? The other boys?"

William answered in a still tear roughened voice, "No, not really. Well except for his balls."

"You did well then. Josh's mums rang just after we got home… I know about school and understand why they suspended you. But you did the right thing." Trent simply squeezed William's arm, then pulled the young man into a hug as William stemmed back tears – this time of relief.

That night Alexander spooned his still hurting and somewhat upset brother from behind for the first time in years, then as an afterthought kissed the back of his head before they both relaxed into sleep. There would be plenty of time to show his brother his three gold medals in the morning.

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