Chapter 2

The Godparents

x-o-x

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

- Robert Frost "The Road Not Taken"

x-o-x

There was the shrill sound of a whistle. Hope turned aggravated eyes over to her mother, who was staring forward at the darkness through the windshield. The whistle was coming from the figure sitting in front of her mother. Spike, she had called him. Hope's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the figure. He appeared to have some sort of personal relationship with her mother. Just the sight of him in grimy clothes and that leather duster was enough to make Hope distrust him.

Spike seemed to notice Hope's cool expression and turned in his seat, the piercing sound cutting off. Even though she was staring out the window, an expression of boredom on her face, she was starting to look more like Spike's grandsire every second. She had his dark hair, but her eyes were a bright, piercing green. Her facial features matched Angel's pretty damn well. That chin and nose definitely belonged to her mother. Even at sixteen, the girl was going to be a heartbreaker.

She seemed to have felt the chill of his stare and turned her head slightly to see him openly gawking at her. "What are you doing?" she asked irritably.

"Just taking a look at you, pet," Spike said evenly. "I haven't seen you since you were a little baby bit."

This seemed to pique her interest a little bit more. "You knew me when I was a baby?" she asked in an awed voice. "But Mummy said that we've been in Boston forever!"

"I liked Boston myself one time," Spike said, the old smirk returning to grace his pale face as he met Dawn's cool, penetrating gaze. "Yeah, I was there around the turn of the century when we—"

"Spike," Giles said in his patented patient tone, "we don't want to go around telling little Hope Summers tall tales now, do we?"

Spike's eyes took on a hue of disappointment. "Sorry about that," he said shortly, turning back in his seat.

Dawn slowly released a bit of pent-up oxygen. She was relieved that Spike hadn't blundered on about turning an entire city. Of course, he probably hadn't. Then again, knowing that Boston was where he had gone post-Boxer rebellion was a bit startling. Besides, Hope would just counter that he had seen her around the turn of the last century, when she'd only been a year old.

"So, where're we going?" Hope asked, crossing her arms, her face returning to her bored look.

"We're going to the house where I grew up," Dawn said quickly as Spike turned in his seat to answer. She saw how confused he looked when he turned back around and Dawn made a mental note to talk to him later. They rode on in silence until, at last, Giles pulled onto the familiar street. Dawn felt some of the apprehension and anxiety return. The house legally belonged to Willow now, who had bought it with Tara a few years back once Dawn had ultimately decided to put the house up for sale. Willow had been living there for nearly a decade by then and decided to keep it up.

Hope's face was reflecting in the glass as the sedan pulled into the driveway.

"You grew up here?" Hope asked in a hushed voice. Dawn smiled when she saw Hope turned towards her, grinning excitedly.

"Sure did," Dawn admitted as Giles stopped the ignition and opened the doors. Slowly the four got out of the car, looking up at the two-story house in front of them.

"It's pretty," Hope said in a voice of longing. "Grandpa, did you ever have a house like this?"

"Well, not really," Giles said as Hope slipped her arm through his and they headed towards the house, leaving Dawn stuck with the luggage.

"Some gentlemen," Dawn huffed, moving around to the trunk and pulled it open. Spike sauntered to stand next to her, watching as Dawn removed bag after bag.

"So, are you going to let me into this little web of lies?" Spike asked in a smug voice.

"I told you," Dawn huffed, practically throwing Spike backwards as she slammed Hope's suitcase into his chest, "it's better she doesn't know all of this. The next time you tell her about the good old days with Dru… I'll stake you myself."

"I can see you haven't changed," Spike said, his gaze turning serious as he watched Dawn take her own suitcase and slam down the lid of the trunk. "The baby bit looks like a ginger snap."

"She looks like Angel," Dawn said between clenched teeth.

"She's got Buffy's nose and a bit of her chin and maybe the tips of her ears, too," Spike said, teasing now. Dawn rolled her eyes as she stormed up the stairs and right through the front door.

In the doorway near the stairs, Willow was standing, her arms tightly set around the youngest Summers. Hope was clinging to her godmother with all of her strength, which was sort of amusing, considering Willow was dwarfed by Hope's rather tall, string-bean-like appearance. When Hope finally turned away, she found an older woman standing in the dining room smiling shyly at her. Hope had known Willow almost all of her life, luckily. She was the one person in Dawn's life that had refused to back out of it, despite death threats, police scandals and the occasional magical spell. Her reasoning was simple enough: she had been Buffy's best friend. She was also Hope's godmother. Even in her late thirties, Willow still retained much of her innocent youth and beauty. Her hair had become darker with age, but her eyes still held within them the same wisdom and strength that Dawn had counted on for so many years. She was still as thin as she always was, and there was a trace of power about her, too. Dawn could easily detect it, as she had once been a mystical object brought to life by the same body that had given life to the sixteen-year-old figure now throwing yet another tantrum.

"What do you mean the mall burnt down?" Hope was wailing as Spike grunted, closing the door at last, his keen eyes sharpening on the tall figure. Well, she certainly was acting like Angel at that moment with the whining and complaining. It had to have been partially Dawn's influence on her as well, but Hope was acting like a brat. It was something Spike had seen often enough with Connor.

"Will you relax?" Dawn asked, grimacing as she took Hope's arm and dragged her into the living room. The first thing she noticed is that the furniture had changed over the years. Instead of feeling warm and comfortable, it looked more like an exhibit in a museum of old artifacts. "It's not like you can fit anything else in your closets, anyway."

"But… shoes…" Hope whimpered, her lower lip trembling.

"We just got here," Dawn said, feeling a headache start to settle in. "Maybe it would be best if you went upstairs and actually settled down a bit. We can worry about shopping tomorrow."

"We'd better," Hope said, pulling her arm from Dawn's grasp and flouncing back into the entryway. Spike and Giles had already disappeared, probably relieved as hell that Dawn had dragged the rebellious teenager away. Willow was still standing on the bottom steps, however, talking to a pretty, curvaceous woman. As soon as Willow saw Hope return, she beckoned her over.

"Hope, sweetie, I'd like you to meet someone," she said, watching as the girl walked over. Tara shifted slightly under Hope's curious eyes, but she figured that Hope wouldn't remember her. "This is Tara."

"Oh, hi," Hope said, pushing the sleeve of her sweater up slightly as she shook Tara's hand.

Tara grimaced slightly under the strong grip. "That's a v-very st-strong grip you h-h-have," Tara stuttered uneasily as Hope relented, smirking slightly.

"Thanks," Hope said, glancing around. "Do you live here, too?"

"Yeah, she does," Willow said in a low, careful voice. She had no idea how Hope would take her relationship with Tara seriously. "She's… with me."

"Oh, cool," Hope said, her attention already gone as she strode past both women into the other room where Giles and Spike were talking in low, hushed tones. "I hope you're not hiding anything from me!" she said in a sing-song voice as she disappeared from sight.

Dawn felt slightly ashamed over Hope's actions, but it seemed to be something Willow had been expecting. "I'm sorry about—" she began, but found the words couldn't come.

"Don't worry about it," Willow said, waving her hand impatiently. "She'll discover the truth one way or another and then she'll be even more weird-ed out by it."

"Probably," Dawn said, wincing when she could just hear Hope's reaction. "She's just a very different child than the one you're probably expecting."

"Actually, she's p-pretty close," Tara surmised, turning around and watching Hope jump up and down next to Giles while Spike did his best to hide his snickers.

"They owe you," Willow said out of the corner of her mouth.

"I know," Tara said, wearing a surprisingly smug look.

"You owe her?" Dawn asked, confused.

"We had a bet," Tara admitted in a low voice.

"Anya got her ass kicked," Willow replied, pleased about this. Dawn rolled her eyes. "Then again, so did I. It's been only a few years since I've seen her, too." She chewed on her lower lip as Hope reappeared.

"Where's my room?" she asked cheerfully, looking between Dawn and Willow.

Willow immediately turned to look at Dawn and she understood what the look had meant. Hope would be staying in Buffy's room. There really was nowhere else for Hope to sleep unless Dawn switched rooms and the thought of spending the night in her dead sister's room was bad enough. It had been hard to leave her sister's memory behind. She didn't need a room that practically reeked of her to remind her of what she'd lost.

"I'll take you," Willow offered, taking Hope's suitcase from her and quickly regretting it. Hope's suitcase had to be filled with lumps of lead for how heavy it was. She finally managed to get the suitcase up the stairs as Hope hopped onto the landing easily behind her, singing under her breath. "How was your flight?"

"Fine," Hope said in a light, airy voice. "Mom slept the entire way. I read. And drank."

"Your mom wouldn't let you drink champagne now, right?" Willow asked in a low, threatening voice. Hope turned to her with those wide, innocent jade eyes.

"My mom freaks out if I so much look at a bottle," Hope said at last as Willow turned the knob on Buffy's old door and pushed it open. "In fact, I think that she would rather I… wow…"

Willow had just turned on the lights. Hope stepped inside the room as the strangest sensation came over her. "Whose room was this?"

Willow didn't answer her. She couldn't answer her. The only time either she or Tara went into this room was to dust and vacuum it. Otherwise, there was a bed and a few scattered books on the desk. The rest of the room was empty. Most of Buffy's possessions had gone to Angel's or with Dawn. Buffy had been buried with most of her prized possessions, including Mister Pointy and the silver cross she'd received from Angel. The pictures on the desk and the murals on the wall had been stripped before Hope had arrived, so instead of the room looking more like a shrine to her dead mother, it had a slightly detached feeling from reality. And yet, Willow thought sadly, this had been Buffy's life.

"Willow?" Hope asked in a quiet voice.

"It's a spare room," Willow said, finally finding her voice.

"Oh," Hope said. Willow glanced curiously at Hope, trying to figure out why the girl was acting so oddly. Did Hope sense something about this room like Willow or Dawn might? "Well, it's… nice." She walked over and took the handle of her suitcase, dragging it across the floor as she stood in the middle of the room. "It's really, really…"

"If you need anything, we'll be downstairs," Willow said quickly.

"Okay," Hope said, not moving.

"I forgot to tell you that Xander and Anya will be over tomorrow, so you can finally meet your other godparents," Willow said, trying to get some sort of reaction from Hope. The girl just blinked. She was still staring at the bed, as though lost in thought. "Hopie?"

"My mother hasn't called me that for awhile," she murmured, a soft smile spreading across her face. Willow reached out and touched the other girl's shoulder. "It's okay, Willow. I'm not going to jump out the window and run away or anything. You can trust me."

Willow's look changed from tender concern to a look of wry sarcasm as she dropped her hand. "I'm just letting you know that if you ever needed anything… we're always here for you, Hope. We owe your mother that much."

Hope listened as Willow left the room before her brow furrowed in confusion. So, Willow owed Dawn something. It was probably money. She'd begun to learn that a lot of people owed even more people a lot of things, including money. Money was the root of all evils, she thought with a sigh. Slowly, she bent down to lift her suitcase onto the bed. She might as well start unpacking as long as they were here until Sunday. Otherwise, things were bound to get boring really, really quickly.

x-o-x

The next morning was another bright, sunny morning. Dawn awoke early, shifting on her old bed and wrapping her arms around the comfort of her old, stuffed teddy bear. It was so comforting to be back in this room. She had been forced to grow up so fast when Buffy had died. Instead of going down to live with Angel and finally have a daddy-like figure in her life, she'd gone off to Boston, went to an expensive boarding school and spent the last fourteen years trying to figure out what the hell she wanted to do with the rest of her life.

Wrapping herself in a thick, terrycloth robe, she crept past Buffy's old room. For a second, she thought that Buffy was still alive and that they had gone back sixteen years in time, before Glory, before Hope and before any of this gut-wrenching pain and agony had happened.

Of course, there had been no going back in time. Hope was curled in a ball. There was a stereo on the desk playing a bit of soft jazz music from a CD that had probably been on repeat all night. There was a large pink pig snug and secure in Hope's scrawny arms. For a moment, Dawn realized that she had gone back in time. Hope looked so much like Buffy, despite the fact that she was taller and a brunette, yet it was almost unnerving. Gently closing the door, she saw the door to Joyce's old room creep open as Tara came out, tying the sash on her robe.

Dawn quickly mouthed, "Downstairs," and the two made their way into the Kitchen. Spike and Giles had long since left. In fact, after Hope had gone to bed, Dawn had found herself in the first Scooby meeting in over fifteen years. It was sort of like old times, except they were much, much older. Giles was in his seventies now. He was definitely looked far more aged than he had back in the day.

Willow was already stirring blueberries into a thick batter when Dawn walked into the Kitchen.

"Mornin', Dawnie," Willow said with a tired smile. She handed Tara the bowl and reached for a carafe on the island's countertop. "Have some coffee… it'll wake you right up."

Dawn gratefully reached for a mug and poured herself a cup of the steaming liquid. "Thanks," she said, pushing the pot back. "I haven't slept this well in ages, but last night was… something else."

"I know," Willow said with a small, perceptive smile. "It's kind of weird being back in your old bed in your old house doing your old thing."

"You got that right," Dawn admitted, watching as Tara added the batter to the pan over the stove. As they waited for the pancakes to cook, she turned back to Willow. "So, when is Xander coming?"

"He's coming by later with the kids," Tara said, making a face. "Anya thinks that just b-because we're without our own brood, we h-have to take care of theirs."

"In that case, I think I adopted a few dozen," Dawn moaned, rubbing her eyes. "If Hope wasn't a full-time teen, imagine Hope with that Initiative guy's niece."

"Wait… what?" Willow asked after a moment of stunned silence.

"I kid you not," Dawn said, deadpanning. "Her name is Alexandra Finn. She's Riley Finn's niece."

"This… this is new," Tara said, hovering near the stove although she was desperate to know more. "D-Does she know about anything h-here?"

"Not that I can tell," Dawn said, shrugging. "She and Hope have been best friends since they could walk across the street without my supervision. If she knows anything, she's not letting on."

"It may not be something we have to worry about," Willow said in a comforting voice as she took her own coffee mug. "Until then, Buffy's favorite holiday ever is coming up tomorrow."

"Don't I know it," Dawn said with a wince, remembering the last two Thanksgiving Day dinners and Buffy's rather militant attitude about them. "Who's cooking?"

"Well, we are," Tara admitted. "Anya's idea of Thanksgiving is a lot of apple pie, followed by a lot of, well, you know."

Dawn rolled her eyes. Sometimes Anya was just too predictable.

"Xander would rather call for Chinese than worry about the hassle," Willow said, leaning closer to Dawn. "At least, when it's our turn, we'll have something that won't gain us ten pounds and taste like Mongolian beef for days afterwards. Besides, Tara makes some mean cranberries."

"You give me f-far too much credit," Tara said, pretending to blush. "Besides, ever since you started shelling out those peas, well… they've been the best I have ever had."

"You shell out your peas?" Dawn asked in disbelief.

"Not only that," Willow said proudly, "but we actually freeze our pumpkin parts for fresh pumpkin pie. Our yams are flown in from some Midwest state. Our corn is actually from a plant that doesn't use pesticides and our turkey is one hundred percent farm fresh."

"Wow," Dawn said, frowning. "I can't believe I haven't come home before this!"

"Trust me," said Tara, gently patting Dawn on the arm before turning back to collect her pancakes. "We've got the best dinner for miles around."

"There's no doubt about it," Willow said with a grin. "Buffy'd be proud of us."

"Of this, I have no doubt," Dawn said, waiting as Tara set down a steaming plate of pancakes before her. She almost started laughing when she saw that they were in the shapes of smiling faces. Some things never changed.

"I hope you don't m-mind," Tara said, turning back to put more pancakes onto the burner. "We don't have a daughter of our own to spoil… but if we had ever adopted one, it would have been you."

Dawn was touched. There was so much love between Tara and Willow, even now in the age where coming out of the closet was nearly a cliché. It was great being here again, part of a family. She'd missed out on growing up because she'd had to go from sixteen to twenty-one practically overnight. The thought of living with two women who adored her was enough to bring tears to her eyes. The pain and loneliness of the past fourteen years came rushing back to her in a heartbeat and she found herself unable to swallow as she stared at her plate, which had become a big blur.

Thank God for Hope, she thought to herself. Hope was the one who had kept her grounded for all these years, despite the fact that she was living in some fictional la-la land where the cheerleaders ruled and the jocks were the millionaires of some surreal future.

Of all the things to be thankful for, there was always Hope.

x-o-x

Hope didn't retreat from her room until after eleven. Wearing clothing that was far too big on her along with an attitude to match, she stumbled into the kitchen, dumped herself onto one of the stools, and reached for a pitcher of juice without so much as a greeting. Willow and Tara had just finished doing the breakfast dishes when Hope had arrived, and both women said "Good morning!" in their most cheerful tones. It took Hope nearly five minutes to respond.

"Sorry," she muttered, running a hand through her long, dark hair. "I didn't sleep so well last night."

"Was it the bed?" Tara asked, taking the pitcher and returning it to the fridge.

"It didn't feel very comfortable," Hope said, grimacing as she drank the warm orange juice. "This stuff sucks."

"Don't worry," Willow said, wiping her hands on a towel as she turned around again. "Xander and Anya called about a half hour ago; they're on their way. They'll be here in about twenty minutes if you want to clean up first."

"This isn't clean enough?" Hope asked, opening her arms. She was wearing a black sweatshirt that would probably be big on Spike or Angel. It could quite possibly fit over both of them. She wore under it a pair of fuzzy plaid pajama pants that had certainly seen better days, as they were slashed beneath the knee and one of the back pockets was hanging loose from her backside. Her feet were bare, which was almost amusing considering how warm it was outside and how warm her clothes looked. Both Willow and Tara looked as though they were dressed for summer.

"Where's Mom?" Hope asked, yawning as she followed them back to the stairs before jumping onto the bottom step.

"She went out for a little while, sweetie," Tara said quickly. "Did you find the bathroom all right?"

"Yeah," Hope said, giving her a quick thumbs-up. "I'll be good. See you in about twenty!" Without warning, she turned and dashed up the stairs, her heavy footsteps pounding until she reached her bedroom and disappeared inside of it.

Willow and Tara exchanged an uneasy look. They had lived well with the deception since Giles had first concocted it. The only problem was, Anya had a habit of being a little too realistic at times. She could easily spill the beans on the fact that Dawn wasn't Hope's mother and that Hope's father was still alive. Willow had given Xander this warning, saying it was what Buffy would have wanted. Anya seemed to relent. Perhaps their time living together had altered her frame of reality around Buffy, but for whatever it was worth, Willow had to give Buffy credit.

Twenty minutes later, a large black minivan pulled into the driveway. And then the chaos began.

Hope was still locked in the bathroom with the low hum of a blow dryer on the other side. When Tara had shouted that Xander was there, Hope just replied that she needed another five minutes.

"I don't suppose we can hide, can we?" Tara asked half-jokingly as she and Willow walked towards the door. They could hear the shrieks and screams of the four children came from outside and the two exchanged a long look and sighed.

"I'm tempted," Willow smirked.

The doorbell rang, followed by the sounds of fumbling footsteps and squeals. Then, the doorbell rang another five times before Xander was heard shouting, "Do you want to wake the whole world? For crying out loud, Lizzie, stop it!"

"But, Daddy!" the six-year-old whined from outside. "It makes noise!"

"You might as well leave her to it, as long as they won't answer," Anya said, her voice slightly muffled. From the crack in the heavy curtains, Willow could see that she was carrying the only Harris toddler, Alicia. Tony, Elizabeth's identical twin brother, was collecting the rather vast collection of cigarette butts while the eldest Harris child, Jordan, who was only eight, was kicking over the lawn gnomes and already hurling sticks and stones towards the cars driving by on the street.

The bell rang twice more before they heard a muffled shriek from the second floor.

"Uh oh," Tara whispered.

"We should probably answer the door, now," Willow said in a small voice. They were just walking towards the door when Hope appeared above them, holding a cigarette butt and looking livid.

"What stupid idiot threw this through the window when I was going my hair?" she demanded in a loud, brassy tone. Tara just gave her an apologetic half-smile as Willow pulled the door open. All at once, the chaos from outside seemed to come inside.

Anya burst through the door, looking nearly hysterical. "So you finally decided to open the door!" she said in a quick, breathy tone. "Liesha here weighs about a ton and you couldn't hold off your quickie until after curfew?"

Hope froze halfway down the steps, her wavy hair falling forward into her eyes. Anya was followed in by the twins, one who dumped an entire fistful of the smelly butts onto the entryway floor, followed by a mock-apologetic "Whoops". Lizzie, the boy's twin, came in third, scowling as her eldest brother was beating her over the head with a stick he'd found in the grass while calling her names in some language Hope didn't know. Bringing up the rear was Xander, his face hidden behind two huge boxes full of Thanksgiving goods.

"I hope you're holding the door open," came his muffled tone.

"Oh, honey," Anya cooed as she set Alicia down in the living room before returning to help Xander by taking the box on top.

The other three children stopped when they saw the teenager standing on the stairs above them, looking as though she desperately wanted to turn around and run upstairs. "You have got to be kidding me," she said, turning to throw Willow an accusing look. Tara shrugged helplessly as she eyed the three children.

"Who are you?" the oldest boy asked rudely.

"It's none of your business," Hope said with a sniff, crossing her arms.

"Hey, kid, we could use your help!" Anya said, struggling under the weight of the box.

When Hope didn't respond to her command, she set the box down on the table and returned to the entryway. "Didn't you hear me?'

"No, sorry, I've had my bitch tolerance for today, thanks," Hope said with a sweet smile.

"Hope!" Willow gasped from behind the door as she swung it closed.

"Err, yeah, hi," came Dawn's voice as she suddenly appeared from the opposite end of the house, looking warm and sticky from a morning jog. "Hello, Anya," she said loudly.

But Anya was too busy glaring at Hope, who was staring haughtily back at her.

"Uh, Hope, I don't know if you've been introduced, but this is your godmother, Anya."

"She's my godmother?" Hope asked, her eyes widening. "Oh, why couldn't I be an orphan?"

"Because I'm the better half of this rather odd assortment of a pairing," Xander said, easily stepping forward and gazing up at the dark-haired beauty who stood above them, still. "So, you're Hope, huh? You've grown up nicely."

"And that's your godfather, Xander," Dawn finished. "And these are their kids."

"Jordan, Tony, Elizabeth and Alicia," Anya said in a single breath, not taking her eyes off of Hope. She wasn't used to having her orders disobeyed and this was something Hope could sense instantly. "So, you're Hope, now, aren't you?"

Oh, crap. Xander looked from Anya to Hope and knew that Anya was sorely tempted to just spill out the whole truth right now. The only thing that stopped them was Willow coming forward.

"Uh, Hope… why don't you come and help us put this stuff away in the Kitchen. It's all for dinner tomorrow night."

"Okay," said Hope, smiling at Xander but turning her sharp, disdainful eyes towards her other godmother. Whoever thought of two godmothers in the first place? She liked Willow… Anya appeared to be a royal pain in the ass. Aside from her children who thought that playing with cigarette butts was cool, her baby was currently banging her rather large fists on the coffee table in the living room, wailing for attention. Anya seemed to break from her reverie first, going to care for Alicia.

"Welcome to our world," Tara said, grimacing as the three women walked into the kitchen.

This left Dawn and Xander standing in the entryway, surrounded by three kids. Tony had once again found the butts on the floor interesting and was working to collect them, all the while explaining to both Elizabeth and Jordan what cigarettes they were from. They had obviously been under the influence of Spike a little too much.

But they couldn't break the spell between Dawn and Xander, who stared at one another with tears shining in their eyes.

"You're all grown up," Xander said, his voice breaking slightly.

"You've got kids," Dawn said, gesturing at the three still crawling around the floor. "You've got big kids."

"I know," he said, with a rather tender smile. "They're great… sometimes. They're definitely Anya's kids."

Anya returned at that moment, Alicia attached to her hip. "Where did she go?" she asked archly.

"She's helping out Will and Tara in the kitchen, Ahn," Xander said, leaning over and taking Alicia, who smelt more like burnt cookies than anything else, from his wife's rather hard grip.

Anya visibly relaxed when she found out that Hope was out of earshot. She immediately turned to Dawn, who blanched under the pressure of Anya's rather authoritative glare. "You still haven't told her the truth yet? What kind of mother do you think you could possibly be? Who do you think you are, keeping the truth from her like that? I can't stand people who lie, but people who lie when they have a choice are all morons!"

"Mommy!" Elizabeth wailed. She absolutely hated it when her mother started ranting and raving.

"I would have thought you'd grown up more than that, Dawnie," Anya said, her voice relaxing slightly. "Apparently, you're still the same little kid that I'm so glad I haven't seen in fifteen years." She turned to Xander. "Let's go help them out."

Xander watched as Anya marched towards the kitchen before sighing. Anya's words had hit Dawn hard. "Don't worry about her, she's just under a lot of stress lately," Xander said with a tired smile.

"I don't need you to babble her excuses," Dawn said softly. "I know when I've done something wrong."

Xander shrugged. "They lived together for a year, you know? I think something happened between them, but Anya won't say what did. She was pissed as hell when she found out that you'd gotten custody of Hope. I think she wanted it."

"What, to teach her how to be a capitalistic dictator?" Dawn asked in disbelief. "Uh, no thanks. Hope may have her head in the clouds about shopping and material things, but she can't stand money."

"Oh, they'll get along really well," Xander said, rolling his eyes. It was then that he caught his three kids trying to sneak off with Spike's old cigarette butts. "Hey, you three," he shouted, following the three now running children into the living room. "Bring those back… those are disgusting! Don't you… don't you throw those at me! Jordan Lavelle Harris, you pick those up right now…"

As his voice continued to fade, Dawn found herself suddenly feeling very alone in the house she had once called home.

x-o-x

See? I didn't forget about this story! It's coming along rather nicely, after a few hundred hours of re-writes and re-plot-thinking-and-developments. The next chapter will cover a rather strained Thanksgiving. The story pans out at thirteen chapters right now, but it may lengthen, depending on how much more I want to write. I've started a bunch of drabbles, too, that basically cover the first year-and-a-half of Hope's life when she was actually with her living parents. They also explain Anya's attachments to Hope, as well.

I'll add a few reviewer's comments at the end, here, since you have all been so nice and patient after three months of complete silence! I promise I'll update before June!

Juzblue – Yeah, Spike will be sticking around for awhile. I kind of like the way I wrote him out in this story. He sort of becomes the one who isn't all afraid and on pins-and-needles around our dear Hope. And the stress between him and Angel is just delicious. Riley really isn't going to be in this story, much… but he will be towards the end.

Buff – Sorry about taking, you know, three months and all… I hope this chapter made up for it!

Panther28 – She won't learn the truth for awhile yet. And she learns it from an unsuspecting source. It'd be nice to hear some guesses, because I think the person who eventually tells her the truth is an actual surprise. Alex, as far as they know, doesn't know anything. It doesn't mean she doesn't, though…

Kara Weasley – Why, thank you! I think that a part of Buffy is in this story, as Hope will continue to start acting more and more like her mother than her father. And I've come to the point where I'm about burnt out on Harry Potter, unfortunately. And I still have a story I'm desperately trying to finish… odd that.

Electric Pancake – You don't know how much I want to sometimes!

Minty – Well, I'll tell you that it's Cordelia. And she's changed… a lot. As for who slips up with Hope, my lips are sealed.

Dreading-Infinity – See, I tried to go for something a bit different and something that at least had an impact on my life. Suddenly this little plot bunny was born. I am going to finish this story, even if it takes a year, which I hope it won't.

Blackrosemystic – My stories are actually wonderful? There are times when I cringe when I look back at them… but… thank you so much for your comments. They make me feel like a good writer!

Vampyr Moon – You're telling me! Things have only begun to get interesting as far as Xander and Anya are concerned. At least Willow and Tara already knew about Hope. Just wait until Anya gets her two cents in!

Yes, this is the secondary version. Corrected the name bits (unless you wanted baby Harris to be known as Hannah/Liesha)… yeesh. Also, there were a few tiny spelling errors that I couldn't live with.