Chapter Three: Things to do in the Museum When You're Dead.

Giles walked through the halls of the Benjamin Franklin Museum with the ease of a man who had finally come home. In the short time, just a few months, that he had been working here, preparing to take over for his colleague, Dr. Livingstone, he had come to know every display as if it were his own private collection. He was sure that he could walk these halls with his eyes closed and still know exactly where he was and how to get to whichever area he wished without any help at all. It was truly magnificent.

And so much better than that stuffy old library at Sunnydale High.

He understood what Buffy and Willow had been talking about when they had stated that all the places they had been, Sunnydale included, coming to Gotham had been like coming to the place that had been meant to be all along. He understood and he enjoyed it.

He had never thought he would live long enough to see his Slayer reach a stage that no other had ever reached before. He never believed she would live long enough to add new things to the Watcher's Diaries, things no other slayer had done before. Oh sure, she had defeated Glorificus and the Master and closed not one, but two hell mouths in her time. All of these things were certainly above and beyond any Slayer before her.

But, no, what he thought of was the personal, not the Slayer things she had accomplished. She was a mother now. The only Slayer before her who had had a child had had that child before being Chosen. Buffy had conceived and delivered her daughter while a Slayer. And not just any child. No. This child's father was a Varishi, a rare genetic offspring of a long line of Potentials, the power that they had possessed and had never been called to use, flowing down their bloodline to pool in the blood of a male child. And a male child that he himself had helped protect in a way, though Alfred had been the one who had spared the child's life. It was truly nothing short of a miracle.

And now with the boy, Richard, who was not only descendant of the very Gypsy clan who had cursed Angelus with a soul, but had a bit of magic in him that could only be attributed to the Varishi as well.

Though so much was unknown, such as which powers her daughter would inherit, if any, Buffy was content with her life. (Semi) Retired, she reveled in motherhood, doted on her daughter, and had the fortune of finally finding the one man in this world who not only understood what she was and what she had gone through as a Slayer, but loved her no matter what.

With the pride of a father, Giles was more than happy for her. She deserved nothing less.

Giles stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head slowly to the left. Something was wrong.

In the alcove was a display dedicated to the Templar Knights. They had received a donation, albeit a strange one, from a private collector overseas. Apparently this collector's family had had the skeletal remains of six Templar's on display for several generations, in glass coffins. They were in excellent condition: bones white and unblemished, tunics in one piece and, yes, white, weapons and armor repaired and gleaming. After so long, they had suddenly decided to donate the remains, but instead of at one of the many European Museums, they had decided on Gotham.

This was strange enough. But not as strange as what Giles had just noticed about the display.

It was empty.

For a moment, Rupert Giles was at a loss. He could not fathom why the display was empty. He had seen to the placing of the skeletons, which were in remarkable condition, their weapons, and their armor himself. Certainly if there had been some more work to do on them, although he could not figure out what that could be, he would have been consulted before removal of the display.

That was when all his years of being a Watcher, living over a hell mouth, and his knowledge of all things evil gave him another, more feasible explanation.

"Oh, bloody hell!" He cursed under his breath, backing up from where he had been standing in the center of the hallway until his back met the wall opposite of the display alcove. Trying to remain calm, he reached into his pocket for his cell phone. He hated the bloody thing. Most of what it was capable of he couldn't figure out how to get to work, even if he wanted to. Whatever happened to the good ol' days when phones were attached to long cords that ran to tall polls and had rotary faces?

He searched and searched, but to no avail. The cell phone was nowhere on his person. That meant he had left it in his office. Brilliant! Just brilliant!

He had to make his way to his office and get that blasted phone.

Although, he could still be jumping the gun, so-to-speak. He had not seen any sign that there was something evil at work here. There could be a logical explanation. Not one he could think of at the moment, but there could be one.

That last shred of hope was proved futile just a moment later when those six skeletons, fully armed and armored, came around the corner, marching in formation, skulls grinning and the empty sockets where their eyes had once been glowing with a fiendish red light.

"Bloody hell!" He cursed again, and began running for his office.

Buffy didn't even bother looking at who was calling her when her phone began to ring. She just figured it was her husband (still took some getting used to) calling to thank her for sending him to the store for diapers. She had to giggle as she walked across the floor of the penthouse to where her phone sat on the kitchen counter top.

"Hey! Richard should know what to get and you should get used to it-" She began, sure he was going to give her an earful.

Instead the voice on the other end was panicked, a little higher in note than normal, and totally belonging to her former Watcher.

"Buffy," he whispered on the other end, "I need you to come to the museum at once. Please! They are after me. You have to –" The connection was lost.

Buffy took a second to look at her phone in confusion, and then stuffed it into her back pocket. Slayer mode initiated, she made her way to the elevator, and only stopping when the ding sounded telling her the elevator had arrived.

"I can't just leave," she said to herself, turning and heading upstairs where Marti was sound asleep in her crib. She peered over at the sleeping baby, her mind going over what Giles had just said to her. He had said someone was after him. Scratch that: they were after him, meaning more than one. It was daylight outside, and would be for many more hours, so it was not vampires, and she doubted demons would take a field trip this early in the day also. So what was it?

There was only one way to find out. Taking her phone out again, she speed dialed the number she wanted.

"Willow, I need a favor."

Alfred had gone that morning after Bruce and Richard had left to check on the progress of the rebuilding of the mansion first hand, leaving Buffy alone with her daughter. She knew that Bruce wouldn't stay at Wayne Enterprises a full day, so she had texted him about picking up the diapers, which she really did need, and had decided to have lunch ready when he and Richard got home. She wasn't a domestic goddess in any sense of the word, but she wanted to try. She had made Thanksgiving dinner once and it had turned out pretty good, minus the Indian spirits who had wanted to kill everybody and had given Xander leprosy, but in spite of all that, it had taught her that she had it in her.

Willow had agreed to watch Marti while Buffy went to the museum to find out what was wrong with Giles. She wasn't expecting much of anything, really, and she had to be home in an hour or so, because that would be the time that Marti would wake up for her lunch time feeding. It was different, that was for sure, being the source of nourishment for another person that didn't involve blood, skin, or entrails.

Or bone. She always forgot bone.

There were several cars for her to choose from in the parking garage of the penthouse. She made the quick decision and got into the Alfa Romero. As she started the engine, she decided she was going to ask Bruce for something not so…flamboyant. Maybe a nice, American made Chevrolet.

Once at the museum, her thoughts of this being some kind of mistake or nothing too serious vanished completely.

The patrons of the museum were filing out in droves, nothing short of being in panic mode. She could hear sirens in the distance, so she parked the car around the corner, and went in the other way, through the back. It was nice to find out that the code had not been changed.

The inside of the museum was quiet, especially compared to the noise outside. She knew this museum, so finding Giles' office would not take too long. Or it shouldn't have, if it hadn't been for the six skeletons that were making their way down the hallway, coming from where Giles' office was.

"Skeletons? Really? And what is with the get-ups?"

Each were dressed in silvery chainmail, a long tunic of white worn over the armor, a red cross emblazoned on the front. The templar knights that had been donated a month ago? Each carried a shield with the same emblem painted on the front, with very sharp looking swords held in bony hands, and helmets on their bony heads.

Slayer mode, level two. Buffy wasted no time in chasing them down, and putting the hurt on them. Or as much hurt as one could inflict on a skeleton.

That didn't amount to much.

She pounded and she kicked. They were just reanimated bones. The shields and swords clattered to the floor along with the limbs that were holding them. Skulls rolled onto the floor with the helmets that were supposed to protect them from harm. The bodies fell apart to piles on the floor. Easy as pie.

Until the bones began to glow, a very evil looking reddish glow, and then they shot up off of the floor and began to swirl around in a whirlwind. Buffy shielded her eyes as the red glow grew brighter and brighter, the wind whipping her hair and clothes around. Slowly, the light began to fade and the winds die down. When Buffy could look again, she put her hands on her hips, and sighed in aggravation.

The skeletons had reformed, complete with weapons.

"You guys seriously don't know when to give up, do you?" She stated, glancing at her watch. Thirty-five minutes. "I was hoping this would be over quickly. I have a baby to feed, you know. Kind of my responsibility. No one else can do it. Well, that isn't entirely true." The skeletons were not caught off guard this time. This time they intended to use their swords. "I mean, there is milk in the fridge. Only, it isn't cow's milk, if you catch my drift."

They didn't. The first undead knight, who must have been the leader or something because his helmet was more elaborate and made of gold, swung his sword at her neck, obviously looking to decapitate her. She may have been shirking on her Slayer duties for very nearly a year now, but that didn't mean she had forgotten everything she had learned or slowed down at all.

She ducked the sword swing and charged forward, driving her shoulder into the Templar's ribcage, pushing him several feet down the hall before he fell onto his back. The other five knights charged forward, moving much more agile than she thought skeletons should be able to. She dove forward, coming up in a roll several feet from the five skeletons but in range of the other one's sword. She barely dodged his swing at her, the tip of the blade slicing into her hip. It stung viciously as she pulled up to her feet.

Buffy spun around, setting her feet, preparing to defend herself, but there was nothing there to defend herself against. The skeletons had disappeared.