Imzadi: Yep, Darla saved Spike after all, and perhaps even saved the day. Who would have guessed it? In this episode you'll finally find out whether she managed to convince them of her right to see her son or not...

Samster the Hamster: Thanks a lot for your review! I'm glad you've liked it.

Sorry, sorry I didn't update this sooner, but I had a lot of things going on lately. Hope you all like this.

Episode 9:

'Our house, in the middle of our street

Our house, in the middle of our ...

Something tells you that you've got to get away from it'

- 'Our House', by Madness -

Darla laughed, more out of politeness than anything else, at one of Darryl's bad jokes. The fat, greasy man didn't seem to notice, though. The pan in front of him had caught all his attention.

'These chips're ready in a sec.'

French fries chips. Chips crisps. Definately it had been a long time since the last time she'd been in England.

She nodded, relieved. She really needed to get out of the kitchen. The increasing heat had covered her hair and skin with a thin layer of sweat, and she was certain that the smell would remain on her clothes long after she'd left the dinner.

A blur of green and white passed past them, accompanied by the distinct sound of sobbing. Both Darla and Darryl looked up, and saw one of the youngest waitresses sitting on a box, her hands hiding her face. Darla felt Darryl's elbow on her ribs.

'Go.' At her puzzled look, he rolled his eyes. 'You're a girl. Do girl talk. Ask her what's wrong.'

Darla refrained the urge to snort. From what she'd seen lately, most of these girls didn't need a good reason to burst in tears. Usually, bad grades or a guy that didn't look at them were more than enough to start the drama act. And I used to complain about the Potentials.

She approached the sobbing girl, though, and forced a sympathetic smile.

'What's wrong, dear,' she asked in what she hoped it were dulcet tones, like the ones she used with Connor. The girl stopped sobbing long enough to look up, with big, reddish eyes. Darla recognized at once the perpetually fearful look in them: the girl's name was Karen...something. Here, last names weren't an issue.

'Karen. What is it?'

The girl opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. Finally, she managed to whisper.

'It's L-Little Jo-Joey. He said...'

Darla waved a hand: there was no need for further explanation. Karen buried her head between her arms again and resumed the sobbing. Darla wondered whether she should pat her head or something... Why when Connor was sad it was so easy for her to comfort him, whereas Karen's pathetic sobs only manged to annoy her to no end? Deciding she'd do no good standing there, she turned around and exited the kitchen, ignoring Darryl's frown and forgetting all about the fries – chips – whatever.

At the corner, there was a table at which five men were sitting. If you could call them men. The mere sight of them would have probably terrified braver people than mousy Karen.

They were huge, with arms like hams covered with tattoos; long, greasy hair; and more scars on their faces than lines at the London's Underground Map. In the center of the group sat Little Joey, who was the biggest and ugliest of them all.

The first night Darla had had the misfortune of wearing the ridiculous green-and-white uniform, which made her look like something between a skanky nurse and an overgrown girl scout, Little Joey had considered her butt to be something of his property, judging from the pats he dared to give her.

There had been a time – not so long ago – in which such audacity wouldn't have gone unpunished. It would have been quick: one single movement of her hand, and Little Joey's face would have smashed like pumpkin against his apple pie.

But that time had gone by, and smashing his bones wasn't an option. It was kind of ironic: last time that had happened to her, she'd been trapped by a weak body. Now she was trapped by a strong consciense.

However, Darla hadn't lived four hundred years for anything. If there was something she'd learnt, was to handle morons.

Instead of reacting at his pats, she had smiled sweetly and been very polite. After he'd paid, though, he stretched out his arm... and Darla had seen her chance and caught it by the wrist.

Without saying a word, she'd slowly incresed the pressure on a sensitive nerve, until Little Joey's shocked face had turned completely white. Before he let out a cry of pain, which would have ended with both his fame of Unnoficial Wrestling Champion of the Neighbourhood and her job at Tabby's, she'd released him. From that day on, he'd been extremely courteous with her, and the other clients had followed his example. Darla thought that probably they believed that, if someone as scary as Little Joey feared her, it was good reason to fear her too. However, that was only a part of the reason: the truth was that there was something in her eyes that told people not to mess with her.

As she approached the table at the corner, Little Joey hurried to give her his most pleasant smile, but she could see the hint of worry in his eyes.

'Miss Jones! How're yeh?'

Since the night she'd showed him a glimpse of her strength, Little Joey and almost every other client always called her by the last name that was written on her fake I.D., although nobody called the other waitresses by their last name.

'I'm alright, thanks for asking, Joey'. As far as she knew, she was the only one who didn't call him "Little". 'But Karen didn't seem to be so fine'.

Little Joey tried unsuccesfully to look puzzled. 'Karen who?'

She raised an eyebrow. He blinked nervously at her cool stare, and muttered:

'The mousy bird? Why?'

Darla smiled, but there wasn't anything warm in the gesture. 'It seems like some of your comments might have offended her'.

The faked puzzlement faded from his face. He looked at his friends, apparently seeking for assistance, but they averted his eyes. Gulping, he turned to face her, looking like a child about to be hit with the belt.

'Look, bird – I mean, Miss Jones –' He smiled nervously. She remained her face implacable. He bit his lower lip. 'I was jokin', ok? She should've known I wasn't serious. Never meant to – er – offend her'.

Darla glared at him a little more, just to see him squirm, and then her expression softened.

'Sure you didn't, Joey. It must have been a misunderstanding.' The man nodded eagerly. She repressed a snort. 'That's why you're going to apologize to Karen, and...yes, give her an important tip. I'm sure that'd convince her you didn't meant to hurt her feelings'.

Little Joey opened his mouth, horrified. There were two things he never did. One was apologizing, as it was for pussies. The other one was giving tips. After all, he was widely known for his cheapness. He had a reputation to uphold, see.

However, Darla chose that moment to crack her knuckles distractedly, and his resolve disappeared. Instead, he grudgingly nodded again.

'Tell her to come. I-I'll give her a tip and – er – say sorry'.

Darla gave him a radiant smile, which probably only managed to make him sweat a little more, and returned to the kitchen, shaking her head.

Four centuries and men hand't changed one little bit.

Wesley had helped her to get an apartment – a flat. She should get used to England all over again.

It was in an old building, in a not so nice neighbourhood of London, but it was only a couple of blocks away from The Leaky Cauldron. This came in really handy, as she had to use the inn's fireplace to get to The Three Broomsticks, from where she'd head to Snape's house to visit Connor. She could have very easily gone straight to Snape's fireplace, but like hell the man was going to give her an invitation to his house. He'd made it fully clear during the first time they'd seen each other what he thought of her kind, and that if he was letting her see Connor was only because the boy and Dumbledore had insisted on it.

At the wizard's coldness and harsh manners, Darla could not help wondering how he'd come to adopt her child...and how came Wesley and the others had let him. She'd shared this doubts with Wesley, trying her best not to accuse him of neglect. Wesley had sighed.

'We didn't make the choice. Connor did'. At her astounded expression, he explained further. 'When Justine came with Connor after spending five years in Pylea – although here it were only a couple of weeks – he was a little – well, untamable. He didn't believe us that Holtz had died, and he wanted to go back to Pylea (you know, the hell dimension Sahjaan sent them by mistake) with him and Justine. He didn't trust us either, because he'd seen us performing magic and, well... I'm sure you're aware of Holtz's feelings regarding magic'. Darla nodded, somberly remember Holtz's days as an unofficial member of the Inquisition. 'It was a hell of a month the one he spent with us. When his magic powers showed, Giles suggested taking him to Hogwarts, as he knew the Headmaster. We did so, and after a couple of months, when we felt Connor would be ready, we went to pick him up.' A grimace appeared on Wesley's face. 'But Connor already had other plans'.

Then, he'd detailed her the disastrous meeting at Hogwarts, when Connor had refused by all means to go back with them.

'I didn't want to force him to come with us against his will', he explained, 'and then Dumbledore suggested that Connor made the choice himself. And he chose Professor Snape'.

Wesley let out another sigh, and took another sip of his Starbucks coffee, grimaced, and turned to face her. 'I know he doesn't look like the fatherly type. But...he cares for Connor, that's evident. And Connor... Connor seems to be happy with him, doesn't he?'

Darla couldn't deny any of those statements. From Snape's desperation the night Connor had disappeared (actually, he'd been with Darla, but he couldn't have known that at the time) and the way Connor looked at him, it was obvious that Wesley was right.

'Now I'm seeing him, are you gonna visit him too?'

Wesley looked startled. 'Me? Visit Connor?' He shifted uncomfortably on his seat. 'I don't think so. I mean, I don't think he would like that... it would be painful for him to remember all he's gone through...'

Only for Connor it would be painful?, Darla wondered. But she had to be fair with Wesley: he had every right to move on with his life, and possibly he wouldn't be able to do so if he was constantly reminded of what had happened to his two best friends. He wasn't the only one: most of the people who'd known Angel weren't that eager to meet Connor, as it would bring up too painful memories.

Back to the flat: It was incredibly old, with dampened walls and rusty wooden floors... but it had little natural light, which was an advantage, it had central heating and hot water, and it was very spacious. Darla thought it was promising, in spite of Wesley's incredulous look.

'Don't worry. I'll make it better. It just needs some...redecoration'.

Wesley had looked rather sckeptical, but that didn't waver Darla's confidence. She knew exactly how she could improve the place, and where to get the help necessary to do so.

After the fall of Sunnydale, the dream team had split up. Buffy, Xander and Lorne, on separate ways, were travelling around the globe seraching for new Slayers. Dawn had remained in Cleveland to finish high school, with Willow, Kennedy and Spike, who was still recovering from his wounds. Faith and Wood, as well as Fred and Gunn, were looking for Slayers in the States. Faith and Wood had taken the East Coast (due to Faith's criminal record, they needed to get as far away from California as possible) and Fread and Gunn, the West Coast. On the other hand, Giles had decided, given that now there were much more Slayers than Watchers to train them, to open in London some sort of school for all the new Slayers who needed training. And that was where Darla headed the following day after her purchase of the new apartment.

She had been right: there were sevral teenaged girls eager to get out from the school and to skip training sessions. They were just girls, after all, and most of them hadn't known anything about duty or sacrifice until their calling. Most of them just missed what their lives had been like, even though they'd made the choice themselves, and jumped at the chance of doing something different. And redecorating an apartment was certainly different from killing demons or patrolling London's foggy alleys in a freezingly cold night.

Giles reluctantly gave them permission, and during the following two weeks a bunch of teenagers led by Darla worked inher apartment, in acombined effort to make it fit to live in. Darla at first had felt a little guilty, but soon she'd found out that the girls didn't feel exploited at all. On the contrary, for them it was much more fun that they had had in a while. Soon, the apartment was unrecognizable.

The walls had been painted in neutral colours, as all the bright shades had been left for the furniture, which was an odd mixture of the stuff London's secondhand shops could offer. The result was very eclectic, especially as each girl had her own opinions about decoration, but Darla didn't mind, as it looked cozier that way.

She'd also got a fridge and a microwave, but it would be a long while before she were able to get a TV set with her salary. She didn't mind, though. It wasn't like she were a huge fan of soup operas, anyway.

She'd prepared one of the rooms as a possible bedroom for Connor, in the case Snape ever allowed him to stay at her home for the night. That would probably take even a longer while than getting the TV set, but Darla could wait.

Another chamber was prepared as an improvised training room. As they were rather short of staff, Giles had offered her the chance to help him to train the girls. Darla had accepted, oddly delighted at the sign of trust. She could get used to it. Besides, it was a way more gratifying job than serving Little Joey, although the pay was even worse.

And she'd fixed the problem of the natural light. She couldn't afford using electricity at all times, so she would need some daylight...as long as it didn't mean bursting into flames. Fortunately, the windows were small and they were high on the walls, but to make the most of the natural light she put small parts of mirrors on the high part of the walls, like a border. This way, the light reflected and illuminated the whole place...without risking her incineration, of course.

After all the arrangements had been made and the redecoration was over, the girls went back to their school, and to their lives, and Darla was left alone in her new home. She walked from one room to the other, checking everything was alright and fixing little details. She liked what the place looked like now. It wasn't luxurious, it wasn't fancy...

...but it was home.

Author's Notes:

As you probably know, given I've mentioned this at the beggining of this fic, 'Ain't so far down' is the companion piece to another one of my fics, 'Two Single Parents'. I've always thought of this two different fics as the two halves of the same story, although it's not really necessary to read both. However, there are some things you might need to know to understand certain things, and if you haven't read 'Two Single Parents', then this notes are meant for you:

First of all, 'Two Single Parents' is an Angel/Harry Potter crossover, so bear that in mind as I explain certain things. Here we go...

- As seen in Episode 2, Connor was kidnapped by Holtz and Justine as Angel was murdered. Sahjaan followed them, opened the portal – but as Justine had already opened the urn and this was sucking the demon, he made a mistake, and sent them to Pylea instead. Holtz, Justine and Connor spent five years there, although in LA it were only a couple of weeks. Then Holtz died, and Justine and Connor were able to return, with Groo's help.

- Justine left Connor with Wesley and the others, and hell began. Connor didn't want to stay with them. Then he showed his first signs of magic and AI team freaked out. When they told Giles about this, he realised Connor was indeed a wizard, and suggested they should take him to Hogwarts, as Giles knew the Headmaster. For those of you unfamiliar with HP, Hogwarts is a magical school in England, and the Headmaster's name's Dumbledore.

- Once in Hogwarts, Connor leanrt to accept and control his powers, yayada, and bonded with Professor Snape, one of the teachers. As Wesley explained, Connor chose Snape over the AI team, and therefore went to live with him instead.

- In the twelfth chapter of '2SP', Darla meets Connor at night. He follows her to a cave where she was hiding, and she can't escort him back to Snape's because of sunrise. So she spends with Connor the entire day until nightfall, while Snape frets over Connor's disappearance.

- Finally, the truth's unveiled. Snape doesn't like the idea of a vampire getting close to Connor at all, but Connor wants to keep seeing his mother so in the end he gives in: Connor still lives with him, but Darla can visit her son every now and then.

Well, I think that's all. I guess it would have been easier just to tell you to read the other fic. You might like it...