Part 7: Early Morning Hours
Buffy stood in front of the small suitcase that lay on her mother's bed. Since arriving back in New York, they had simply taken up residence in her mother's apartment that she kept in the city for when she had to come out for business. It was nice, in a good neighborhood, and was decorated in a way that it reminded the slayer of her home back in Sunnydale; but it still wasn't home. But, then, home generally didn't feel like home anymore either; not without…
She sighed softly and continued to pack things away for her trip. She was going back to Sunnydale tomorrow afternoon as part of her agreement with Spike had stipulated. The deal was, she got to stay with them up until they found Ms. Baron in New York, find out what she knew, and then Buffy was on the first plan back to California to take care of herself until the baby was born.
At the time, it had seemed like that she was fine with it, but, now that the time had come, part of her couldn't help but feel like she abandoning her daughter. No matter what Spike or Giles or anyone said, it felt like she was giving up on Dylan by leaving, it didn't matter what the reason was.
She felt him standing behind her, probably leaning against the wall or in the doorway, watching her as she packed away her belongings to go home where it was safe. That was a laugh. Sunnydale was anything but safe, considering it was the hellmouth. It's true that she would have been safer if they sent her some place else, like to Angel in Los Angeles or send her and one of the Scoobies to some place in the middle of nowhere where no one knew them or what they did; but, if she was being shipped off, she wanted to go home. If nothing else so she could be with her mom and sister for this pregnancy so they wouldn't miss it like they had the last one.
"Giles said he'd take me to the airport tomorrow morning while Connor watches Lindsey," she told him, pushing angrily down on one of her blouses to make it fit in with the others. "My flight leaves around noon, so I'll have to be there before nine for security checks."
"Alright," he said. Spike watched as she grabbed another article of clothing and manhandled it. Though he knew the answer, he asked, "You alright, love?"
"Besides finding out I'm part demon and giving up on my daughter? Yeah, I'm just peachy," she shot back in that 'you idiot' tone.
"You are not a demon, Buffy," he told her firmly, walking up to her so he was now standing directly behind her. When she didn't turn around to look at him, he reached around her and grabbed her wrist. She didn't fight as he turned her to face him. "And you're not givin' up on her. You're just goin' where it's safe for awhile."
"Same thing," the blonde slayer said sadly, refusing to look up into his eyes.
"No, not the same thing."
Reaching up, he gently touched the tip of her chin and pushed upward until she had no choice but to look at him.
"You're not givin' up on her anymore than me or the Watcher or Brood Boy, Jr. are. Bloody hell, woman, I don't want you to go anymore than you do, but this isn't about what we want. It's about protectin' our own, love. About us protectin' this one just as much as we want to protect the poppet. You know that."
She did know, and she did want to protect it just as much as she did Dylan. Yet, though she knew it was the right thing and had every intention of doing it, that didn't make her feel any better about the decision.
Buffy sighed, dropping her gaze from his again.
"Yeah," she said softly. "I know."
**********
Lindsey switched off the lights as she walked out of her apartment's tiny kitchen, a glass of water in hand and a frown on her face upon seeing her unwelcome guest. She knew they were there to protect her, but if they hadn't come along in the first place she wouldn't be in this mess. No, up until about five hours ago, she had been living a perfectly normal, quiet life with her past behind her. Now she was once again thrown into the middle of a situation not of her doing and she could only pray that she would make it out alive.
The boy she had learned to be Connor sat at the opened window, watching the street in silence. He had an even look on his face, and seemed to be focused on nothing at all. She wasn't particularly fond of him. There was just something about him that screamed at Lindsey that he would just as well kill her himself than stop Mr. Travers from doing so. Probably because Mr. Giles told him what her part in this whole sorted affair was, but she wasn't about to ask the boy his opinion on her. In fact, she was doing her best to ignore the fact that he was even there.
Mr. Giles sat on her couch; well, actually, it was closer to spread out on her couch. The older English man looked as if he would fall asleep any second, causing Lindsey to snort. This was supposed to be her great protection? God, she might as well leave the front door open with a sign saying 'Kill Me.'
Shifting on her feet and fixing her own scolding look, Lindsey cleared her throat and waited for Mr. Giles to look up at her. It was a few moments before he did so, and it took even longer for him to blink his vision clear to see her.
"I am about to retire for the evening," she informed him, sounding like a secretary who was telling their boss they were leaving for the night. "The kitchen is through there, and the restroom is down the hall across from my bedroom. Do try and keep things in order. Good evening, Mr. Giles." She glanced up to catch the boy's eye and added, "Connor."
Giles scrambled to sit up on the couch to look attentive, but she was already halfway down her short hall by that time. "Good night," he started, but she slammed her door shut before he finished. "Lindsey."
"Nice," Connor said coolly from his perch before turning back to the view.
"She's always been like that," the Watcher said thoughtfully. "Of course, I suppose anyone who worked for Quentin as long as she did would start to lack certain amounts of…"
"Courtesy?"
"Patience."
Connor snorted at that. The woman could give a yeti the chills.
Giles shifted himself back into the comfortable position he had found earlier since it was obvious that he would be on the couch for the night. He pulled his jacket a little higher on his chest to try and keep his arms warms. As Dawn would say, talk about ungrateful. They were there to protect this blasted woman, the least she could do was provide him with a blanket and pillow for the night. Instead, the middle-aged man would just have to make due with what he had for the time being.
"Wake me in a few hours and we'll switch," he told the young man just as he closed his eyes to try and get some sleep.
Connor glanced over at him before he turned back to window. When he heard Giles' snores a few minutes later, the young man thought it was a good thing that he didn't sleep much or this Lindsey woman would be in real trouble tonight.
**********
From the street corner, Travers watched from the backseat of his car as the bedroom light went off. Turning away from the window, he looked at the small group that sat with him in the vehicle, all waiting for their orders. He nodded to the two men in the front seat, who returned the gesture before getting out. Then the old man turned to the child seated next to him.
She looked like she really didn't want to do this, but at the same time was trying to hide the fact from him. He smiled warmly down at her, which only put the young girl even more on edge.
"Just do as you are told, Dylan-dear," he said to her in a warm, yet almost threatening way. Travers nodded to the two men who were waiting outside the car. "They'll do the rest."
Swallowing hard, the girl did what she was ordered to do.
**********
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Buffy groaned slightly as she held onto the sides of the birdbath-like sink. Her bare feet felt cold against the white tile floor and she shifted uncomfortably on them.
The bathroom was designed to look like it had stepped right out of the nineteen twenties, right down to clawed bathtub with a shower curtain that could be pulled nearly all the way around it. The former residents must have made it like this because she knew for a fact that her mother wouldn't have agreed to a bathroom design that didn't include a sink counter for all her stuff and a larger mirror than the medicine cabinet before her.
Buffy glanced up at her reflection and found that she indeed did look as bad as she felt. God, she hated morning sickness. And her kid was taking the phrase to heart, waking the slayer at the pleasant time of three o'clock in the morning. She didn't remember being as sick with Dylan, but she was usually up and traveling somewhere at this time since she and Spike could generally only move at night and she may just not remember. Still, she couldn't wait until it was over with. Grabbing her toothbrush, she quickly cleaned the awful taste out of her mouth.
She looked up back up in the mirror before her and sighed. Well, at least she looked a little bit better than a few moments ago. Now all she needed was something to make that sickly green shade go away, and she would be all set.
The slayer opened the bathroom door and let the light flood into the dark bedroom she had been resting comfortably in earlier. With his bare back to her, Spike was still sleeping as soundly as he had been when she left. It was hard to believe that anyone could actually continue to sleep when she had literally jumped out of bed, charged towards the bathroom, slammed the door shut, and preceded to wretch until her stomach was empty again. Yet, here he lay, just as peaceful as could be. Well, at least she finally knew where Dylan got it from.
As Buffy reached up to turn off the bathroom light, something caught her eye. She froze for a moment, and tried to focus in on the form resting comfortably in a chair that sat in the dark, far corner of the room. It didn't move for several seconds, and neither did she. Every warning was going off in her body, telling her that she indeed was not imagining that something was there watching her.
"I know you're there," she said to the shadow, her fist curling up into a tight ball for just in case she had to fight.
In response, the form reached over to the lamp that sat on a small table next to the chair and turned it on.
"Soddin' hell?" came a groggy voice.
The added light brightened the whole room up enough to finally wake Spike from his sleep. He gave a groggy groan as he slowly sat up in bed to see what going on. His senses snapped back to him when he saw the young figure sitting in the chair. An instant later Spike was on his feet standing in front of Buffy, his sleep completely forgotten.
The blonde slayer gave him a look from behind. Yeah, wasn't he her great protector; considering he would have slept through the whole thing had the kid not turned on the light. Shaking her head slightly, she turned her attention back to the silent boy.
He was young, maybe a little older than Dylan, but he also had that 'I'm a kid but not' thing about him just like her daughter did. His dark hair fell slightly around his face as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, like he was waiting for the two adults to address him. Speak only when spoken to, crossed Buffy's mind as she looked at him and realized exactly who he was. The boy from the club, the one that helped her daughter and they had learned about from Lindsey, "Sebastian."
A small smile passed on the boy lips, almost as if to say 'So you've heard of me.' It quickly faded though, and he went back to the even look that reminded her a bit too much of a younger Connor.
"What the bloody hell are you doin' here?" Spike bit coldly.
Sebastian gave a small shrug like the answer should have been obvious to them. "I was supposed to kill you."
**********
Connor hadn't moved from his perch, his head resting against the frame of the window as he continued to stare blankly out of it. He had hoped that this woman would have helped as much as Giles had said she would, but she had only ended up being more of a burden to them than anything.
What had she really told them anyway? That there's another kid like Dylan? What was so big about that? Buffy was going to have another one just like her soon anyway, so he couldn't understand why the fact that there is one that is older than Dylan was such a big deal.
Well, maybe he could, if the kid had been trained like him. Connor had already earned his nickname, the Destroyer, by the time he was that kid's age. Of course, Connor had been in Quortoth, a nasty hell dimension, so it had been kill or be killed. One had to be tough to grow up there.
He was also pretty sure that this guy, Travers, couldn't be as bad as his father had been. No, he couldn't be. Connor wouldn't let himself think that Dylan, a girl who was like his own little sister, would have to go through such a hell as that, no matter what the others said.
A chilled breeze blew in from the cracked window, bringing a familiar scent. The young man's back stiffened slightly, his eyes wide as he took several deep breaths to make sure that he was not mistaken. No, he couldn't be wrong. He knew her scent as well as he knew Dawn's or Cordelia's or his father's; that strange combination of honey, Coke, and dirt from a rough day of play. The scent of innocence, the scent of a child. The way the smells intermingled together told him that it was her; told him that Dylan was indeed nearby.
The miracle child leaned forward into the window, peering down into the dark streets below. He half expected to see her standing there, looking up at him from the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets and that annoyed look on her face that Dawn had taught her. But her form was nowhere to be found from where he sat, but her scent was still strong in the wind. She was nearby, no more than a block or two away.
Connor glanced over towards the couch at the sleeping Giles. The ex-Watcher snorted slightly in his slumber, then adjusted his position to insure that the noise would not repeat so not to wake himself up. Part of him knew that he should wake Giles and tell him before heading out to find her, but the older man would have questions that he didn't have time to answer. After all, ever second that he sat here meant she could be getting further and further away. Besides, he shouldn't be gone long, and Giles and that Lindsey woman should be alright until then.
Pushing the window open further, Connor made his choice and disappeared in search of the lost little girl.
**********
The boy sat at the counter quietly, watching the man that stood on the other side in the small kitchen that was staring directly back at him. It wasn't a murderous glare as Sebastian had expected, but it definitely expressed the vampire's intent that he would do anything to protect the woman standing at the sink behind him. Not that he had really expected anything less.
Sebastian's own face and eyes were nearly unreadable. By Spike's own musings of the child, he would say that kid had probably been taught from an early age how to hide what he was thinking from adults or anyone else observing him. That look was so void of any sort of emotion or thought that the vampire knew that he must have been shown how to do so far sooner than when Travers had snatched him up two years ago. That Cassandra or Sam or whatever-the-hell-her-name-was woman must have shown him how, probably to keep him from accidentally spilling anything to her husband or anyone else.
The brown-haired boy dropped his gaze from the staring contest that he and Spike had been holding, instead choosing to watch the woman behind him. Once the glass she held was filled with water, she reached over and turned off the running liquid before turning back towards the two men. She placed the beverage in front of the child, a tight frown on her face, as she watched him lift it and take a drink.
"You really should be more careful," Sebastian said into the glass, making the words sound muffled.
"Yeah, we'll have the locks changed tomorrow," Spike bit coolly at the boy.
"Not that." He nodded towards the slayer. "She's starting to show."
Buffy glanced down at her midsection, taking note that the child was right. Generally, she was very careful, wearing baggier clothes to hide her rounded stomach. That night, however, she had simple grabbed Spike shirt off the floor and pulled it on, and it was now pulling to show off her changing appearance.
Wrapping her arms around it, she asked, "Travers know?"
With a shake of his head, Bastian answered, "Not that I know of. But he probably will soon enough."
"You?" Spike asked.
"Or some demon. Any way you go, you know that you can't keep it a secret for too long. At least not from someone like Grandfather…" For the first time that night, the two adults saw the boy flinch. "I mean Travers."
Buffy studied him for a long moment. He said the ex-Head of the Council's name with a much distain as she or Spike or any of the Scoobies did, but there was more to it. Something in the way he spoke also told her he was trapped by it. Travers held something over him, something bad, and he now felt compelled to do the old man's bidding. A chill traveled up her spine as she thought that perhaps Travers now had that same power over her own child.
"What are you doin' here, boy?" she heard Spike ask again.
"I told you."
"To kill us?" the older man asked in a mocking tone. "I seriously doubt that."
For a singular moment, Sebastian's eyes narrowed in the doubt of his abilities. "I had been sitting there for quiet awhile, sir. If I had wanted, I could have."
"Why didn't you?" Buffy quickly cut in before Spike actually was able to pick a fight with the ten-year-old in front of him.
Returning to his even face, Sebastian told her, "You're her only chance. I couldn't take that away."
"Since when do you give a damn about my daughter?! You helped put her in that hell!"
"Spike," Buffy said softly. She reached up and touched his arm, trying her best to cool him down before he did something stupid, like hurt the boy and ruin their only chance in possibly helping Dylan.
"I do care about her," the boy shot back defensively before dropping his gaze from theirs yet again. "More than I should."
"Then help us," Buffy demanded. "Take us to her. Bring her to us! Just do something!"
"It's not that simple and you know it."
Spike watched as Sebastian gave Buffy a hard look that she shrunk away from. She knew something, something he didn't, which apparently was going to complicate things even more. He'd ask her about it later. Right now just didn't seem like the time or the place.
Sighing, the boy slouched slightly and sat back on the bar stool. "I want to help her," he told them honestly. "But I don't know how. And even if I did….I don't know if it would matter now anyway."
Buffy and Spike exchanged a look. This wasn't good. Not good at all.
**********
Dylan quickly slipped into the back seat of the car, shutting the door just as the vehicle started off once more. The young girl was breathing hard after having run several blocks in a zigzag pattern for Connor to follow. She knew he had not been that far behind her. Like him, she picked up his scent not long ago and it had been getting stronger and stronger. He was so close…
A part of her was yelling at herself for not taking the opportunity to let him catch her. He could have taken her home to her family and friends and she could have put this whole thing behind her. But then he would have known why she led him away. They would have known for sure what she had become.
It had happened, the sticky smell hung over the two men in the front seat like a cloak of death. Yet again, she had proven the old man next to her right. She was a thing…the monster of his creation. She had known, and she had done as she was told like always.
Grandfather smiled at the child next to him. "You did very well, darling."
Without raising her eyes from the floorboard, she answered solemnly, "Thank you, Grandfather."
**********
Connor frowned as he came to a stop at the street corner where the trail ended. Overhead, the sky was starting to lighten up in the early morning hours, and a few people were starting to busy the street on their way to work. He looked up the road, then down the other way. She was gone, again.
Sighing, the young man returned to the apartment building he had left what seemed just like minutes before. He wasn't actually sure how long he had been gone, an hour, maybe more, but he knew it had been longer than he planned. Giles was probably awake now, sitting on the couch with a scolding look for his irresponsible behavior. However, he was pretty sure the older man would understand that he had to try.
He quickly climbed the fire escape that he had used earlier, and slipped back through the still opened window. To his surprise, Giles was still asleep on the couch, his head dropped back and his mouth slightly opened letting soft, muffled snores escape from deep within his throat. Connor bit the inside of his cheeks to kill a smile. Guess the poor guy really was getting to old for all this.
The smile quickly died though as he took a step towards the old man and caught a new scent…several in fact. Someone had been there while he was gone. And there was something else, something stickier, darker, something…
Connor charged across the small living room towards the hall, accidentally knocking the couch as he went by. Giles snorted loudly from the sudden jolt, rolled slightly, and fell right off the piece of furniture. His head shot up just in time to see Connor take off down the hall for Lindsey's bedroom.
"Connor?" he called, pushing himself up off the floor.
His back cringed and a sharp pain shot through his neck and shoulder, causing him to groan. After he had a moment to adjust, he went after the young man that had so rudely awakened him.
"Connor, what is it?"
Giles found him in Lindsey's room, standing right next to her bed, looking down at the woman. She lay on her side, turned away from the Watcher and the boy. A deep frown was on Connor's face as he finally looked up at Giles' then back down at the woman. He then reached over, grabbed her shoulder, and rolled her on her back.
Her throat had been slashed.
**********
Travers sat at his desk, his chair turned towards the large window behind it that overlooked part of downtown and a bit of Central Park. The sun had risen over the horizon, bathing the city in a warm light as it began to come alive for another day. Well, mostly come alive; some of her residents hadn't lived to see the new day that waited.
He frowned at the thought of his dearly departed secretary. He had always liked Lindsey; she had been a dutiful servant when she had worked for him. Too bad she turned out to be a traitor, just like most people did if they were not taught correctly. Well, he was making sure now that he wouldn't have that problem in the future with his new…servants.
The frown gave way to a grin as the though of how Mr. Giles was probably just now finding the body. He could see him, standing there with his mouth hanging open in disgust at what had happen. Then he would slowly begin to realize that he had been a sitting duck there as he slept. They could have easily killed him too, but they hadn't. He would look for the reason why forever, Travers had no doubt of that.
Truth was, it wasn't because he had like the old man and decided to give him a break or anything like that. It hadn't even been because Dylan had begged him not to hurt him. The simple reason was…so he'd be tortured because he let Lindsey die and they had let him live. Sometimes, mind games really could be fun.
A timid knock came from his door, pulling Travers' away from his amusement at the thought of torturing Giles. Well, time to see if his other mission had gone as successfully.
"Enter," he called.
He listened as the door opened and shut and waited several long seconds until he was sure that the boy was now standing in front of his desk. The old man then slowly turned his chair around and came face to face with the child he had sent out earlier that night.
Sebastian stood there, his arms behind his back and trying hard not to swallow to moisten his quickly drying throat. This had been the first time he had ever actually failed on a mission, and he wasn't sure how Grandfather would take it.
Part of him was yelling at himself for not just bringing Buffy and Spike with him to take Dylan away; but he couldn't do that, not yet anyway. Dylan wasn't ready for them to find her as of yet, and it would be his job to get her ready again before he would help them get her back. Grandfather had done a lot of damage to the little girl, and Sebastian knew he was going to have to help undo some of it before she could go.
"Is it done?"
This time, Bastian couldn't stop his throat from reflectively swallowing. "No."
He watched as something flashed through Grandfather's eyes, giving him the briefest glance at the evil he knew lay beneath. The old man was not happy by this failure.
"And why is it not?"
Drawing a deep breath, the boy held it for a moment. He felt bad about the excuse he had come up with, knowing that it would probably only cause more problems, but he dared not stray from it. After all, he had told them it would be only a matter of time before the old man found out anyway; better he used it to keep himself alive to help Dylan than let Grandfather find out some other way and take it out on the boy for not telling him earlier.
"Buffy's pregnant."
Sebastian stood there, watching as the anger behind the man's eyes suddenly changed to terror before he turned away from the boy. That was weird. Of all the reactions he had expected, that had not been one of them.
"Leave," Grandfather bit, his back once more to the child. Bastian could only stand there, blinking several times in surprise. When he found the boy still there, Travers hissed, "Now!"
A moment later, he heard the door close as the child did as he was told. He sat there for a long time, just staring off into nothing as he processed what Sebastian had told him.
Pregnant. The slayer was pregnant again.
He turned his chair back around to face the desk, reached into the bottom right hand drawer, and pulled out a bottle of scotch he kept there for emergencies. To hell with the fact that it was six in the morning; he needed booze and lots of it.
He had hoped that he would have been able to take care of the problem before it came to this. That she wouldn't have lived to create this new mess. God, why couldn't she have just died like a normal person would have back in Moscow? That had been all he wanted, the only reason he had gone to them to bring her back just like they had brought back the witch for him. Yeah, they hadn't known he planned on killing her again once she had served her purpose for him and saw what Dylan had done, but he also had shot her to prevent this very thing from happening. Apparently, he had already been too late.
Hell, they had probably cast a protection spell on her the moment one of their seers had known she was pregnant to keep anything from happening to the child. Probably the only reason his shot had missed and not killed her.
It took him polishing off his second glass before he even dared looked at the black phone on the edge of his desk. His lips went dry, so he poured himself a third glass and downed half of it before going back to the phone.
Well, time to give the devil his due, he thought with a sigh as he let go of the glass on his desk and reached for the receiver.
He didn't remember dialing the number, nor had been aware of the ringing through the phone line. It wasn't until he heard the other end being picked up that he became aware of anything.
"This is Travers," he said. Then, there was a long pause followed by his sigh. "What do you want done?"
**********