Disclaimer: I'm not really feeling creative today. I saw Lord of the Rings: Two Towers for the second time this afternoon. God, I love that movie, but it takes a lot outta me. Then I have to finish Pride and Prejudice before break gets over, and fill out some college stuff, so my mind isn't working. I do not own, much to my unhappiness, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Joss Whedon owns it all, lucky schmuck. If someone wants to give me a good birthday present this year, give me the rights to the show. Or money. Money is always appreciated.

Rating: R- sorry to tell you all out there, but no bad stuff in this chapter.

Summary: Sequel to "Exit Stage Left". The Scoobies and their children battle against an impending apocalypse, their own demons, and an uncertain future.

Author's Notes: I am Delay Girl! All bow before me! (plays theme from Superman XIV: Attack of the Mushroom Gnomes). Christmas activities took up a lot of my time, and then my mom got sick Christmas Eve and still remains in an icky state, so I've slacked off. But, I will now continue with the writing, and have updated with two (count 'em, TWO) chapters, in honor of The Two Towers. Orlando Bloom is so hot . . . oops, sorry 'bout that! Anyway, on with the shoe (that is on purpose, all you people who are going to write in about that).

PS: I like cheese.









Chapter Five- No Matter What You Say

"Buffy, you NEED to calm down!" Willow yelled through the phone, trying desperately to console the hysterical woman.

"B-b-but . . . she said . . ." choked out the blonde, clearly frightened.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Willow sighed. Buffy had been like this for the past ten minutes, alternating between crying and screaming.

"Calm down and answer something!" yelled the redhead. She continued when the other line became quiet. "Is Laila ok? Does she remember anything?"

"Yes and no," whispered Buffy, "She fine, but she doesn't remember."

"Then there is no point in getting upset. If Laila's ok, then we don't have to worry."

"Really?"

"Really really." Willow began to laugh. "Buffy, she's my daughter! If this were such a big thing, I'd be worried! But it's not!"

"But what she said . . ."

"Who knows what it means!" she interrupted, "We'll find out sooner or later! Just don't worry about it. Get back to work, and don't talk to Laila about it."

"But-"

"No buts! I said get back to work and I mean it!" she commanded, wishing Buffy could see her resolve face.

The blonde sighed. "Fine. See you tonight." The other line clicked off.

Slowly, Willow set down the receiver. She had to be calm to reason with Buffy, but now that the conversation was over, Willow began to feel uneasy. Something was communicating through her daughter.

'When the time comes, they will betray us.'

Not something that should be coming out of a nine-year-old.

Shaking her head, Willow settled her nerves. Like she had told Buffy, it was no use worrying about it.

She grabbed a file and threw it in the large box on top of her desk. Six others and thirteen theses written by her last senior class soon followed it. Wearing a pair of board shorts and a T-shirt, Willow emptied the contents of her desk drawers. It was her favorite summer tradition: cleaning out her office for the end of the year.

School had officially ended two weeks ago. All of the students had packed their belongings and gone home for the summer. But for her, she had to remain, attending meetings and figuring out lesson plans for next year. Due to a small budget cut, Willow discovered that she would be teaching a European history class along with her Mystical Theory and Exploration into the Occult Arts courses. But it was over, and the redheaded witch was ready to start the summer.

Dumping her large collection of computer discs into the box, Willow closed the metal drawers on her desk. She picked up the box, then balanced it on her hip as she locked her office door, the last time until the fall session.

*Ok, it's three o'clock. I'll get home, put away my crap, and watch some TV as I do the laundry, then I'll get some pizzas and head to the Magic Box around five. Tonight, I'll check on Laila; make sure everything's fine.*

Walking through the parking lot, deep in thought, Willow didn't hear the person calling her until she reached her car.

"PROFESSOR ROSENBURG! WAIT UP!"

Turning, she saw a young man racing towards her. As he got closer, she recognized him.

"Joel! What are you still doing here?" Willow exclaimed.

Joel Carter, her junior Assistant Teacher for the term, smiled brightly as he attempted to suck in some breath.

"I . . . went to office to talk to you, but you weren't there! The janitor said that you . . . you had just left. So I ran, and here I am!"

She laughed. "But you were supposed to go back to Washington two weeks ago!"

"Some buddies and I decided to stay at the last minute. We got a place on Kaplan Street."

Chuckling silently, Willow popped the trunk open and threw her box in. Joel had been a great help through the last term, attentive and hardworking, while at the same time, always ready to have fun.

"So what do you want, Mr. Carter, that makes me start my vacation late?" teased the woman.

"Well," he shied away, "I wanted to start my final thesis early this year, and was wondering- if you have the time- if you could maybe, possibly help me with it over the summer?"

Putting her hand on her hips, Willow mockingly frowned. "I don't know. I have so much to do this summer: sleeping in, watching soap operas, taking my daughter to the beach . . ." Then she smiled. "I'd be delighted to help you!"

Grinning even more brightly, Joel began to salaam. "Oh thankyouthankyou THANK YOU!"

Willow pushed him away. "That's enough! Call me whenever you need me. Now leave me alone! I'm missing All My Children!"

Giving her a quick hug, the boy raced off, leaving his professor holding back laughter.

As she opened her car door, her cell phone began to ring. Someone at the Magic Box. Most likely Buffy.

*It NEVER ends!*



Quietly humming to herself, Buffy pushed a broom through the Magic Box. Cleaning at the end of the day always made her happy. No more work for the next fifteen hours.

The atmosphere in the shop was light. Anya stood at the cash register totaling the day's proceeds, the smile on her face growing brighter with each bill she counted. Up in the loft, Tara and the girls were arranging the remaining candles and dancing to a song on the radio.

The only thing that brought the mood down was her knowledge that Giles was in the conference room, researching. After four, he gathered a few books and started to pour through them, intent on finding something useful.

A few minutes later, a bell jingled as the front door opened. Stepping in was Willow, followed by Xander and Spike, each carrying two large pizzas.

Greetings and kisses were exchanged as the group came together in the conference room. As a rule established long ago, research wouldn't start until everyone had eaten.

As the horde dug into the pizzas, Buffy noticed there was an absence. Olivia hadn't arrived yet.

"Hey," she turned, whispering to Anya, "Where's Olivia?"

The woman shook her head. "I heard Giles talking to her on the phone. She has a dinner meeting with some French collector. As usual."

Buffy gave a small smile as Anya snorted in anger. Olivia was never around. She always had something better to do be with the Scoobies. It was almost like she had a private life outside of the one she had with Giles.

*Can't think that way.* Buffy mentally scolded herself. This had to be taking its toll on Giles, who was currently lost in thought, occasionally sighing heavily. So she grabbed a piece of Hawaiian pizza and took a huge bite.

Dinner passed without a major problem. Derek and Dylan had a small pepperoni fight, and Ryan managed to get a whole piece stuck to the ceiling, much to his mother's dismay. But it passed, and the mess was thrown away.

Surveying the room, Giles waited until everything was settled. "I guess it's time to start," he announced.

Gillian responded by standing up, grabbing her backpack, and heading out of the room.

"Gillian, where're you off to?" asked Xander, taking a swig of pop.

"Home." She didn't turn around, but Buffy could feel the eye roll.

He stood, following her. "I really don't think that's going to happen."

"Come on, its like not even dark out!" Her whining echoed out from the main room. "I'll be fine! I won't talk to strangers, I'll keep my bottle of holy water out, and I'll lock the door when I get home!"

There was a pause. "Fine. Go straight home. Since you don't wanna help us out, you'll have to clean the kitchen when you get home, and no talking to Jaime or Katelyn on the phone."

A mumbled "God, you guys suck" was drowned out as the front door slammed shut. Xander came back into the room, rubbing his temple.

"Is it against the law to lock up a person until they turn 18?"

Ignoring the comment, Giles went on. "From what I've brought together, this attack was-"

A knocking at the front door interrupted him.

"I'll get it," volunteered Anya. "Probably Jilly. She must've forgotten something crucial, like her nail file."

Watching the vengeance demon leave the room, Buffy started to mindlessly flip through a large manual on ritual sacrifice. She could hear a mumbled conversation between Anya and the person at the door.

"Buffy! Someone's here to see you!" called Anya as she came back into the conference room, silently mouthing 'That person's back' as Buffy stood. She heard Anya reassuring everyone as she closed the door behind her.

Her guest were actually two people, a young woman intently focusing on her, while the other, an older man, wandered through the shop.

"I'm Buffy Summers," she greeted, extending her hand.

"Jennifer Walsh," the woman responded. She was very young, probably not even twenty-five, wearing a simple, but expensive, white shirt and khaki shorts. Pointing to the man, who was examining an Afghani fertility statue, she explained he was Andrew Pitts, her boss.

"What can I help you with?" asked Buffy, seating herself at a small table, indicating Jennifer to do the same.

She began to trace the cover of a spell book left on the table. "First off, I should let you know that both Mr. Pitts and I are aware of your . . . unique qualities."

"Meaning?"

"We know that you are the Slayer."

It hit Buffy like a ton of bricks. "Who are you?"

The older man, Pitts, came up to the two women. "Secretary of Defense Andrew Pitts, United States Government. Miss Walsh is Director of Special Interests, Pentagon."

"You're all government people?"

"Yes ma'am."

Throwing her head back, Buffy sighed. "Great."

Walsh continued. "Miss Summers, I regret to inform you that, as of this moment, the world is in danger of an impending-"

"Apocalypse." Finished the Slayer, rolling her eyes.

"Yes." Stealing a quick, confused glance at her boss, Walsh leaned towards the woman. "How did you know."

"Why else would you guys come after me?"

Managing an uncomfortable laugh, Walsh continued. "For years, my department has had knowledge of this apocalypse, but have been waiting for the signs to show. A few days ago, we got them. It's our intention that we . . ."

"How did you get the knowledge, what were the signs, and what's gonna trigger it."

Walsh looked at her amazed, most likely impressed with her passiveness. "Um . . . well, we learned about it in a rare book by Josiah Drew, 'Timeline of the World'. The sign was the ritualistic massacre of a village in Africa. And, well," she looked down at a notebook that materialized in her hands, "The book says that a group called the Horsemen of Sin will be the . . . trigger."

Casually, Buffy stood and walked to the conference room. "Hey Giles," she called as she opened the door, "Got an apocalypse coming. Josiah Drew. 'Timeline of the World'. Ritualistic sacrifice. Horsemen of Sin." As Giles responded, disturbingly excited, Buffy turned back to the guests. "Well, thanks for the info. We'll try to get a hold of you when we stop it."

Standing, Pitts at her side, Walsh approached the woman. "I don't think you understand the severity of the situation. If someone can't stop it, thousands will die."

"You don't think I know that?" laughed Buffy.

"It's the responsibility of the United States Government to . . ."

"Jenny, listen." Holding up her hand, Buffy rubbed her eyes. "I'm sure you're aware of my last involvement with the government."

"The Initiative."

"Bingo. After that fun time, I made it clear that I would never work again with you military people. It's not your fault, I get it, but I don't care. I've got a team of people in there that can help me fight these 'Horsemen' freaks. Leave the shop, have dinner at the café three blocks up, and go home in the morning."

"Miss Summers-"

Quickly ushering them to the door, she ignored any pleas. "Again, thank you Mr. Pitts, Miss Walsh-"

She stopped. *Miss Walsh?*

Buffy took a closer look at this woman. Her hair was darker, her nose a little more rounded, but she could clearly see a resemblance between her and . . .

"Oh, this is wonderful!" exclaimed Buffy. "You guys don't give up, do you?" When neither responded, Buffy pushed them out the door. Adding "Don't bother us!", she slammed the door in their face.

The conference room door opened. Spike, holding a sleeping Bridget, popped his head out. "You ok, pet?" he asked, cradling his niece.

Buffy walked to him, giving him a quick kiss. "Yeah, everything's good."



*Everything's wrong.*

He shook his head as he walked down the sidewalk. But he kept going, intent on going through with it.

*She probably won't . . . doesn't even recognize . . . shouldn't be here.*

He arrived at the house, all too soon. After all these years, it still looked the same. The porch swing, the tall tree, her bedroom window . . .

Trembling, he walked up the front steps. He could here someone inside, chatting on the phone.

*She must be home, or else I can find out where she is.*

Timidly raising his hand, he pushed the doorbell, his stomach crawling into his throat as he did so.

*Here we go.*



"No fucking way! I mean, he was, like, so . . . you really think so?" asked Gillian, popping an M&M into her mouth.

"I swear to God, he is so into you," replied Jordan.

As she giggled, Gillian kicked her striped toe socks onto the coffee table. Through the phone, she could hear Jordan giggle as well. Their conversation had been going like this for the past two hours.

*Dad said I couldn't talk to Jaime or Katelyn. He didn't say anything about Jordan.*

"But he's such a skater wannabe. It's pathetic. Last week, he said that Blink-182 was classic punk!"

"Really?" cried Gillian, secretly not sure of the difference. "You've GOT to be kidding!"

"No. He's a little pony. Clippity clop!"

The two girls melted into laughter, until Gillian heard the doorbell ring.

"Hey, gotta go. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"See you babe!"

Hitting the off button, Gillian set the phone down. The doorbell rang again.

"I'm comin'! I'm comin'!" *God, impatient people suck!* She flung the door open. "Yeah, what do you want?"

Standing at the door was a man, youngish looking. He didn't look at her, instead choosing to stare at his feet as he awkwardly shifted his weight. On first glance, Gillian decided he was cute, even if he acted and dressed a bit too mysterious for her taste.

"I wanted to know if . . ." he began, raising his head. But he stopped when he looked at Gillian. Confusion swept over his face. "I'm looking for . . ."

"Looking for who?" asked Gillian, starting to get annoyed by the cute guy.

"Looking for . . . well," he glanced at the porch swing, "You see, I . . . well I . . . How long have you lived here?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ever since I was born? Why? Are you with the CIA?"

He chuckled nervously. "No . . . I, um, I thought someone I . . . used to know would be here. But . . ." he stopped, standing up straight, "I guess I made a mistake. Sorry to interrupt you."

"No problem," growled Gillian, secretly letting him know never to do it again.

Without a word, the cute guy turned around and jogged down the front steps, and raced down the street.

Gillian shut the door, then quickly dialed up Jordan again. "You are never going to believe what just happened!" she cried when her friend answered.