An hour later, Buffy returned to Giles' apartment only to find that it seemed her friends hadn't missed her in the least. Tara had the baby now, and he was definitely *not* unhappy with the development. Chubby face wreathed in smiles, he curled his tiny fist around the girl's blonde hair, cooing contentedly. Willow was giggling, gently trying to disentangle the fist. Anya sat in Xander's lap watching this play out, occasionally interrupting with a "My turn now," or "Xander, make them give me the baby."

Riley was in the kitchen, standing with his usual self-assuredness at Giles' stove. Annoyance pricked at Buffy's spine at sight of her boyfriend in a place that belonged so uniquely to her Watcher. That was where Giles made them tea, or poured his scotch, or made those yummy cookies she loved so much. Riley had just pushed him out of the way to make room for some stupid baby that could be a booby-trapped demon, for all they knew.

Everyone looked up when Buffy shut the door behind her – even the baby looked up. She avoided the cherubic face, feeling a strange twinge of… anger?, she thought wonderingly. It couldn't be that; had she really gotten so hard in the past few years, that she could bring herself to actually be angry with a helpless baby? It's not like he'd even done anything to her… okay, maybe a little baby vomit, but that hardly merited the bitch-fest she'd started since the upstart showed up on Giles' doorstep. She realized suddenly that the others were looking at her, and managed at least half a smile.

"Hey Buff! C'mere – we named him Leo," Xander waved his arm enthusiastically, motioning her over. "Come check out the newest Scoob."

Anya nodded. "I named him, actually."

"You did not," Willow argued, still trying to get the baby's fist out of Tara's hair without scalping the girl in the process.

"I did so. I said he looks like Napoleon."

Riley came in with a bottle of formula. "And then fought with everyone until we compromised."

Still seated on Xander's lap, Anya nodded. "Exactly. I named him."

Willow rolled her eyes. "Can't argue with good old-fashioned demon-y logic."

Tara giggled unexpectedly, stilling the red head's fingers in her hair. "S – sorry, Willow. It's just, you're pulling more than he is."

Leo blew a soft, translucent baby-drool bubble, looking straight at Buffy. She swallowed something hard in her throat that went down like glass, quickly looking away.

"Where's Giles?" she asked brusquely.

Riley nodded toward the bathroom. "Shower. Said he had to get the baby smell off. Did you get everything done?"

She shrugged, relieved to get back to business. "More or less. But I figured I should probably come back; see if we can figure out who this belongs to."

Giles came out of the shower then, his hair still damp and the robe Buffy remembered uncomfortably from his Hefner days wrapped tightly around him. He smiled a greeting to Buffy, ignoring everyone else in the room, and she felt that old familiar calm run through her.

"Buffy – I thought I heard your voice. So you've returned to the Romper Room, then."

She nodded silently, watching as her Watcher went over to check out the baby scene playing out on the couch. At sight of Leo with Tara and Willow, he smiled softly, leaning in to casually run a long hand over the baby's down-covered head.

"He's much happier now; just wanted changing and help from someone with a bit more experience." He nodded toward Riley. "Is there anything your friend isn't exceptional at?"

Buffy looked up in surprise at the bitter tinge to Giles' words. Everyone else was oblivious, but she knew her Watcher too well. She caught his eye and he looked away guiltily, unable to hide the blush climbing his cheeks. For Riley's part, the big dope took it as a compliment, grinning like a fool; Buffy rolled her eyes at the violence of her reaction. Where was this coming from? Riley was a great guy. Babies were cute. So when exactly had she turned into an angsty monster who hated all-American boys and drooling infants?

Oblivious to his girlfriend's inner conflict, Riley handed the formula to Tara and went to Buffy, draping an arm over her shoulders. "Grew up on a farm with a big family is all." He met Buffy's eye significantly with a shy smile before looking back to Giles. "Always figured that once I found the right girl, that's where I'd like to end up again."

There was a brief, tension-laden silence before Giles managed a subtle cough, coming to Buffy's rescue yet again.

"Yes, well… I expect Buffy's right about one thing: demon or no, Leo clearly does not belong here. We need to do what we can to locate his parents."

Riley might have been a corn-fed Iowa boy to the core, but he wasn't dumb; he caught Buffy's eye with a question in his own at her silence. "What's wrong?" he mouthed, brow furrowed in concern. Buffy looked away quickly, pretending she hadn't noticed. They went to work.

* * * * *

The day passed without success. Willow found a baby book and from that they determined that Leo was probably no more than four months old, based on the length of time and degree to which he was able to focus his eyes, and considering his height and weight. Beyond that, they were clueless: no one could find any definitive answer for why an apparently healthy, happy baby would be randomly left on a stranger's doorstep.

That night – Friday – Riley was on duty. Tara and Willow had their Wicca group, and Buffy went out patrolling. Xander and Anya alone had settled in for the long haul, much to Giles' chagrine. Anya was still perched on her boyfriend's lap, while Leo slept peacefully in a bassinet Riley had scavenged from campus. Giles was cleaning up the considerable chaos that had been left between the baby and his other "children" when he looked up to find Anya and Xander kissing passionately on his sofa. Anya shifted position.

"Ow! Xander, you've got something in your pocket. Your poking me," she exclaimed, utterly oblivious to her volume. Giles rushed in from the kitchen.

"That's it – out! It's all under control, I'm completely fine, the baby is sleeping soundly."

"But you need help," Anya insisted.

"I do not need help. And you haven't helped since you arrived, anyway. You sit on my sofa giving Xander a – a lap dance, while everyone pretends not to notice."

Xander looked hurt for a moment, and Giles rolled his eyes, making the effort to soften his tone. "Really, Xander – go home. I'll call you if I need you," he paused, then added generously, "And I didn't mean to imply you've never been helpful. Just, not – "

Xander interrupted with a rueful grin. "Oh, no – I know, G-man. No help was given today; I'm okay with that. It's just…" he grimaced, looking significantly toward the girlfriend still planted firmly on his lap. "Well – I kinda need a minute before I'm good with the walking." Giles stood for a moment, completely clueless, before understanding finally sunk in. Shaking his head in exasperation, he returned to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder.

"Good Lord. Just so long as your condition *fades* and isn't… remedied in some way. I've spent quite enough time cleaning up bodily fluids today."

A few minutes later, he heard the door open and close, and he was alone. He'd just fixed a cup of tea and was preparing to sit down with a book when Leo started up again.

This time, it took very little to make the infant settle down again. Giles may have had little experience with children, but he was a quick study. Watching Riley, he'd found that Leo didn't like bouncing but was particularly fond of being walked about the room; changing diapers wasn't nearly as horrific an experience as he'd first imagined; and heating the formula was equally painless.

He settled on the sofa, Leo cradled in one arm. The blue eyes fluttered sleepily and would just close before the boy would jolt himself awake, eyes widening stubbornly. Giles grinned despite himself.

"Don't want to miss a thing, eh?"

He ran a hand over the tiny head, amazed at how soft, how fragile it felt in his hand. How had people survived all this time, when they started out this utterly helpless? The baby continued to stare at his caretaker, reaching out with a delicate hand until Giles obliged by letting the infant curl its fist 'round his index finger.

"And you've got a grip, too. Where do you belong? I imagine someone must be missing you quite a bit by now."

The front door opened suddenly, and Giles looked up – careful not to startle the baby – to find Buffy standing in his doorway. He smiled a soft welcome, keeping his tone even so as not to disturb his charge.

"Welcome back. It seems Leo and I have managed to drive off everyone else."

A smile fluttered on her face, then faded, and Giles realized immediately that something was wrong.

"Buffy?"

She took a step inside, and he saw the stain of blood coloring the side of her shirt for the first time. He rose quickly and went to her, trying not to jostle the baby. Using one arm to support Leo, he wrapped the other around Buffy's shoulders, helping her to the couch.

"What happened?"

She managed a faint smile, rolling her eyes at him. "I got distracted; then I got poked. Just another Friday night on the job."

He smiled gently, relieved at her tone. "I'll just find something to dress the wound." Before she could protest, he leaned in and settled Leo in her arms. Determined not to provide an easy out, he strode quickly away and went for his first aid supplies.

When he returned, the sight made him stop where he stood. Buffy sat with her head bowed attentively, her eyes fixed on the child in her arms. Murmuring something the Watcher couldn't hear, the cadence and rhythm of her voice nevertheless soothed him; he could only imagine what it would do for an infant. Entering the room slowly, it was only when he was a few feet away that he saw the tears streaming down his Slayer's face.

"Buffy?"

She looked up, her blue-grey eyes filled to overflowing, and shook her head. Getting to her feet quickly, she pushed the bundle back into Giles' arms.

"I can't, Giles. I – I've gotta go."

And she was gone.

Again.