Disclaimer: I own nothing Buffy the Vampire Slayer related. It's all Joss Whedon's. But, in a few days, I WILL own the second season on DVD, so take that motha fucka.

Rating: R- implied sex! Hey, it's better than no sex.

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 didn't say this in my last chapter. I hope you all have a Happy New Year. I sit at home, typing up my stories, while you all party. I am a loser, and I admit it. Actually, New Years has always been a bad holiday for me, so it's probably a good thing I stay home.

PS: I really like cheese.







Chapter Six- Huh?

A mile outside of downtown Sunnydale, right off the main highway that passed by the small town, lay a hotel, a frequent resting-place for tourists coming up from LA and businessmen in town to secure some deal. Although it wouldn't be considered posh, it was a comfortable place to relax.

On the third floor, or more correctly, the top floor, was a large conference room, mainly obtained for banquets and community dances. At the request of their bosses, Walsh and Pitts rented out this space.

"No, I assure you, Mr. President, it will get done!" Pitts was pacing around the room, yelling into his satellite phone.

Walsh sat nearby, making notes on a yellow pad and listening to half of Pitts' conversation. Their first meeting with Buffy Summers had not gone well, and she knew that more drastic measures would have to be taken.

"Yes! I understand! You see, I . . . no! That is not necessary! We just need some more . . . tomorrow? Fine. Yes sir."

She watched all of his energy leave him as he pushed the off button on the phone. Giving a disheartened smile, he carelessly flung the phone onto a nearby folding table.

"Bad news?" she asked, knowing all to well what was coming next.

Seating himself into a folding metal chair, he grabbed a nearby Styrofoam cup of coffee. "We have until tomorrow. Fielding isn't happy, and wants to use the special operatives. If we can't get her to ally with us, then . . ."

"They go in."

"Yep." He chuckled to himself, nursing his coffee cup.

Extending her legs onto the table, Walsh leaned back. "So I guess we have some work to do."

"Guess so," replied Pitts, taking out his own yellow writing tablet, "So how do you propose we do it?"

"Pray?"



Flipping the light switch in her office off, Olivia walked into the gallery hallway. Three meetings during the course of the day, plus some price haggling with a sixty year old woman that nearly turned into a fist fight took it out of her. She just wanted to go home, soak in a warm bubble bath, then crawl into bed.

She checked the back room door, making sure it was locked. Her nightly routine, which she did diligently and with care.

There was a soft knock at the front door. She didn't have to check on who it was. It was always the same person.

Pretending to examine an avant-guard sculpture of a butterfly in a used trash bag, she felt a pair of arms snake around her, holding her.

"You're late," she scolded, a content smile on her face.

"Had to do some work." He began to kiss her earlobe, then traveled down her neck, planting small kisses.

"Not right now. I've got to get home."

Turning her around, he looked warmly into her eyes. "It's not like your husband will mind."

Her resolve melting into a puddle, Olivia leaned forward, capturing her lover's mouth in a soft kiss.

"One moment." She broke the kiss, surprising him as she ran to the front door. But he felt better as he watched her turn the lock and pull the shades.

"Now, where were we?" she asked, leaning against the wooden doorway.



Having someone kick you in the stomach sucks.

Having someone wearing steal-toed shit-kicker boots kick you in the stomach sucks big time.

But, as the aforementioned foot nailed her just below the ribcage and she fell on the ground, Buffy managed a grin. It had been so long since she got to spar with an experienced vampire.

Considering the fact that her opponent wasn't that old, probably only twenty years sired, the guy had power and experience. Before he died, he must have taken karate or some other form of martial arts, so he knew what he was doing.

"In pain, Slayer?" he asked, a cocky smile turning up on his mouth as he stood above her.

Kicking her legs in the air, she was back on her feet. "Nothin' I can't handle!"

Faking a punch to the left side of his face, which he went to block, she caught her right foot underneath his left, and swept it around. He fell onto his back, but was quickly up and pissed.

Trading blows, the fight lasted longer than she had expected. In a dazzling move, he round-housed her across her face, leaving her seeing stars. The little bastard could hold his own, but she wasn't about to admit that.

Blocking a punch to her stomach, Buffy bumped into something hard. A large stone sarcophagus.

She grasped the stone surface and flipped backwards onto the sarcophagus, but while performing the stunt, rapped her legs around the vamp's neck. As she flipped around, he went with her. Three-quarters of the way around, she let go, and he crashed onto the stone surface. Buffy swore she heard something break.

Standing, she took in the sight. The vamp lay half on the raised coffin, his legs dangling over as moaned in pain. Finding her humanity for the pitiful creature, Buffy produced a stake from her coat pocket.

"Good fight," she commented, before shoving the stake into his heart. He poofed into dust, and was no more.

Buffy lowered herself onto the sarcophagus, massaging the tense muscles in her neck.

The night hadn't gone well. Sure, the pizza was good and she was with her loved ones, but besides that, everything was bad. They hadn't made any headway with the research on the gym massacre, and now there was this Horsemen thing to deal with. Of course, you add the government people trying to drag her in, and it just got messy. When the research party ended, Spike took Dylan home so Buffy could blow off some steam.

It was almost midnight. She had already dusted six vampires, and decapitated a bug eater. Almost time to call it a night.

As she approached the cemetery exit, her Slayer sense went off. A vampire was closing in on her.

Grasping the stake in her right hand, she stood still. This time, she wanted the vampire to make the first move, just to make the kill interesting.

She could feel it moving closer. It was only a few feet behind her.

But it didn't come any closer.

Waiting for a few minutes, she got board. If he wasn't going to fight, she was.

She spun, getting her foot in the air, waiting to kick. But when she looked at her opponent, she stopped mid-kick. Losing balance, she fell to the ground.

Pushing the hair out of her eyes, she stared up at the vampire before her, who gave her an equally disbelieving look.

"Angel?"