Part 8: Twilight
He stood in Jackson Square, staring up at the old Cathedral that towered over the courtyard filled with people.
Most were tourist, out seeing the sights of New Orleans in late May. They had waited until after the thunderstorm that occurred regularly in the area to venture into the downtown area of the city. Perhaps they assumed that the rain would cool things off, and, with the added setting sun, then the heat and humidity would not be that bad. They didn't realize that things actually got hotter after the rain. Not that heat and humidity really mattered all that much to him, but he knew that Giles was dying and Connor even made it known he was uncomfortable.
Over head, the sky was a mixture of dark gray clouds residual from the storm, and burning red from the setting sun. It looked like someone had been cutting into the gray, giving the image that the sky was now bleeding from the gapping wounds. A bloody sight, yet strangely beautiful, even for those who weren't vampires.
It had been nearly two months since that night in New York with that kid Sebastian, and they hadn't heard a thing from him since then. Spike had been kicking himself since then for not just making the boy take them to where Dylan was, but the child had ended up pulling a Houdini on them after their little talk. Part of the vampire had hoped the kid would have gotten in contact with them by now, but, with each passing day, that seemed less and less likely. Now the group of men found themselves tracking Travers ever cooling trail. This time it led south to Louisiana.
Giles had disappeared into one of the nearby occult shops which New Orleans was famous for. Spike wasn't quite sure why the old Watcher had gone; perhaps to get some supplies or see if maybe they had some useful information. Of course, he was willing to lay odds that it was for a matter of business. Anya probably told him to go and make some connections for the Magic Box while they were in the Big Easy for voodoo dolls or something of the sort.
Little Peaches was currently across the road in Café Du Monde trying a beignet with the other three hundred people crammed into the small area. He figured he might as well get something to eat while they were waiting on Giles to return, and the French pastry seemed as good as anything. Spike just hoped the kid remembered to wipe his hands when he was done; the last thing he wanted was to spend the rest of the night brushing powder sugar off everything the kid touched.
The vampire himself had decided to wait in front of the church, near where the artist and tarot card readers were setup. He didn't dare go any closer to the house of God, but stood there all the same looking up at the building. Years back, going into the church would have meant nothing to him; just another place that happened to be where stupid mortals prayed for goodness, strength, and help. Now that he had the soul, he hardly felt as if he should look at the place, let alone consider going inside. But, maybe by standing this close, his own prayers would still be heard.
There was another feeling, one that had been plaguing him since late last night. He didn't know quite how to describe it other than a tight, anxious ball in the pit of stomach.
Though Spike didn't have a name for the sensation, he knew it rather well. It was the same feeling he got the night before Cecily's party and in China when he fought and killed his first slayer. It was there when he and Drusilla were making their way to Sunnydale the first time and when he returned on his own the second. It had stalked him the night he and the slayer had been taken, and had nearly made him sick on the night Dylan was born. It was there the night Buffy had been killed and returned with her. There was change in the air, and it was going to happen soon.
He just wished he knew what it was.
**********
Willow knelt in front of Buffy, her green eyes studying the crystal with the same intensity she had when she had to study for a test back in high school. Nothing was going to break her concentration, not until she got her answer.
"And the crystal says," the redhead said slowly, "you will have a…boy!"
Her face lightened up at the answer she had retrieved from the clear rock she had been swinging over Buffy's now rather defined stomach. A small smile rose to the slayers lips as she thought about her friend's prediction.
A boy. A baby boy. Gees, that would be strange, considering her mother had only had daughters, and Buffy herself also had a little girl. It would be kind of nice to have a little boy in the house; at least then they wouldn't out number Spike so badly.
"Oh, please," Anya said from behind the counter where she had been going over the day's receipts. "That's the same crystal that said Cash was going to be a girl. And guess what, he's not."
"Well, it-it's not an exact science, so there's room for error," Willow tried to defend.
"Oh, for the love of…" Anya started as she rolled her eyes, then reached into the cash register and pulled out a coin. "I have just as much chance guessing what Buffy's baby will be by flipping this coin as you do by waving that piece of rock over her stomach."
The witch sighed as she slumped back in her chair. "How many times to do I have to say I'm sorry I guessed wrong on Cash?"
"You're sorry?! Do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to having another daughter?! I was going to teach her all the cool things about being a girl like I am with Jessie, like wearing dresses and make-up and how wonderful it feels when a guy put his-."
"Anya!" both Willow and Buffy exclaimed, cutting the ex-vengeance demon off.
"Anyway," she went on, "I even had a room set up, all pretty and pink. But then I had a boy. A boy! Me, Anyanka, the demon who wrought vengeance in women's names against the evil male species, suddenly contributed another one! I love my son, yes, but do you have any idea how embarrassing it is when I run into my old friends and they are laughing at me because I am now raising a male?"
Willow and Buffy rolled their eyes and tuned the woman out as she continued to rant about what Halfrek said the last time she saw her. The ex-witch smiled warmly at her friend as she took the seat next to her at the table.
"So, you heard anything from Spike lately?"
Instinctively, Buffy's hands reached up and began to rub her stomach. "Um, yeah, he called last night. Said he and Connor and Giles were still getting nowhere in New Orleans, but were going to keep trying."
"That's good," Willow said lowly. "That they'll keep trying, I mean. Not the whole 'nothing to go on.' Maybe they'll, you know, find something."
"Here's hoping," Buffy answered.
"NO!" a voice bellowed out as the bell over the door rang out and three kids came charging into the store, followed by an annoyed Andrew. Van and Jessie slid their book bags off their shoulders and headed off to various parts of the store as Cash held onto to the reddish blond-haired man. As Jessie reached over to do something to Van, Andrew snapped again, "Jessie I said stop it."
The brown-haired child rolled her eyes at the man and then turned to her mother, who had finally stopped ranting to see what the commotion was about. "Mommy, tell Andrew he can't tell me what to do because he's just a servant."
"I am not a servant!" Andrew snapped with an unusually firmness that only came out around the children. Probably because they were the only members of the group that he didn't feel had the right to look down on him for whatever reason.
"He's right, honey," Anya told the little girl. "Andrew's not a servant because I have to pay him to work for me. That makes him the help."
"Anya!" Willow said.
"What? It's true. I pay him therefore he has to do as I say. That makes him the help."
"No, that makes him your employee."
"Same difference," she shrugged.
"No, it's-You know what, never mind," the ex-witch sighed, giving up on the situation.
This was a familiar scene. Andrew would come in after picking up the kids from their after school programs, Jessie or Cash would do something and then say something to their mom, and of course Anya never helped the situation unless to make it worse. Then either Willow or Xander would do their best to defend her servant-employee who could end this all if he would just stand up for himself. But Anya could be rather scary; and Buffy didn't know how Andrew was able to continue walking upright since he never did grow that spine.
Jessie and Van had lost interest in the conversation and were now seated at the table. Jessie's colorful backpack had been picked up off the floor and was now sitting before her, waiting for her to open it and pull out her books like Van had already done. The young boy pushed his reading glasses up his nose as he pulled out an English book that was far too thick for any fourth grader. Jessie made a face before pulling out a flimsy workbook for math. After considering it for a moment, the young girl quickly decided that playing with the rings on her fingers was more exciting than doing homework. She was most definitely related to Xander in that aspect.
During this time, Cash had abandoned Andrew and was slowly sneaking up on his big sister, being as careful as he could that she didn't spot him. At the current moment, Jessie had taken off her largest ring and was spinning it like a quarter across the table, just waiting for one of the adults to tell her to stop that and start her homework. Cash moved up to the table crouched low and barely peeking over the table's edge to watch the ring. When it stopped, Jessie reached over to make it spin again, but the boy's arm shot out and scooped the piece of the jewelry up before he took off with it.
"MOM!" Jessie exclaimed before taking off after the laughing child. "Give it back, Cash!" the girl screamed, chasing him around the table. The boy darted behind his mother as Jessie followed and demanded, "Give it back, you little troll, or I'll make Mr. Froggy meet Mr. Trash Compactor!"
"Mommy!" Cash cried, nearly bursting into tears at the thought that his sister would actually make the Kermit be torn to shreds. He took the threat seriously because, instead of having army men, he had small puddles of melted plastic to play with.
"Jessie," Anya sighed, picking the boy up and placing him on the counter.
"He took my ring!" she exclaimed in justification.
Anya looked at the young child before and held out her hand, which he placed the small gold ring in. He pouted a little, but Anya paid it no mind as she handed the piece of jewelry back over to the little girl.
"Now, go do your homework," she ordered her oldest, who rolled her eyes but did as she was told.
Buffy watched in awe at how Anya was actually able to handle that almost like her own mother would have if it were her and Dawn. No yelling, no threatening of any kind on her part, just that calm way parents defuse situations when they have more than one child.
The slayer suddenly became very aware that she would be doing that very soon too. She was going to have two children, and there would be times when they would be fighting like that and she would have to handle it. Thing is she didn't know if she would be able too. Usually, her way of handling a situation where two people are fighting involved her own use of violence to make them stop. She was pretty sure that wasn't the right way to handle two children battling with one another. And they were her and Spike's kids, so she knew that they were going to love to fight with each other. She just hoped that they didn't end up killing one another.
Of course, the first thing she had to do was get the oldest one back before she had to consider them fighting at all. She let out a sigh as she looked down at her stomach and began to rub it again as the child kicked her hard.
Don't worry, kid, she thought, we'll find your big sister. After all, you're going to need someone to fight with. All of us Summers do.
**********
Cordy sat at the front desk, absentmindedly tapping her pencil against the desk in a steady, quick motion. It had been quiet all afternoon, with no trace of a call coming in any time soon, which was really strange for them this time of year.
Every May since Buffy had came into her life her sophomore year of high school, she had been met with some sort of disaster or Big Bad or, generally, an unstoppable apocalypse that, strange enough, they always seemed to help avert. Yet, May was almost over, and nothing huge had happened. She hadn't even had a vision in over two months. God, as sick as it sounded, she was so bored.
"Would you mind stopping that?" an irritated, British voice asked from nearby.
Cordelia glanced up from the nothing she had been staring into to see Wesley glaring at her. His eyes were narrowed ever so slightly with a deep frown to accent them; an intimidated look that he had picked up over the years he had been with Angel Investigation. But even now, after having known the man for so long, Cordy still couldn't take the look too seriously. After all, she had known him when he was Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, Buffy's new wet-behind-the-ears Watcher who had been so uptight and proper she would have sworn the rod up his ass stopped for its own tea time.
The seer had barely been able to kill a smile before the ex-Watcher turned back to the dusty old book in his lap and said, "Some of us are trying to work."
Cordy's own eyes narrowed at the tone he had used, like she was some child who had been annoying the adults for long enough. Fred, who was sitting across from Wesley and helping him research, caught the look and decided to try and defuse it before they were reminded just how Cordy had been in high school.
"So, when did Lorne say that he'd be back?" she asked, avoiding the deadly glare that Cordelia turned her way.
Wesley looked up once more from the book to the mousy woman across from him. She had her most childlike innocent look on her face, as if she was really interested in when the green demon would be returning from wherever he had gone.
"Soon, I expect," Wesley told the young woman. "He has been gone for quite some-."
"Guy's," Cordy spoke up, cutting the ex-Watcher off.
The two turned towards the seer and found that a far off familiar look on her face. A vision. She was having a vision.
Both Wes and Fred got to their feet, and the young man hurried to her side. As the vision ended, Cordy shook her head slowly and woozily swayed on her feet. She would have fallen to the floor completely had Wesley not caught her.
"What did you see?"
After clearing her head a bit more, the ex-cheerleader answered, "A kid…some vamps…and the train station. You do the math."
Wesley frowned, then looked over at Fred, "Go get Angel."
**********
Buffy shifted in her seat at the table, hoping to find a position that would be somewhat comfortable. However, no matter which way she turned, it really didn't help. The kid had moved itself to where it was pushing against her rib cage and didn't act as if it planned on moving anytime soon. After several minutes of this, the slayer gave a deep sigh of frustration and defeat before pushing herself up so she could stand.
"You okay?" Willow asked, rising to her own feet.
"Yeah," Buffy answered, shifting on her feet to find her center of balance.
A little over two months to go and she was sure she was almost as big as she had been when she had Dylan. She was already naturally small, so it really didn't take much to make her look like she was already in her ninth month. She'd have to remember to ask that witch doctor…the doctor who was a witch friend of Willow's, whether there was something she could do about it. One thing was for sure, there was no possible way she'd ever be a size two ever again. Lord, she just hoped she'd still be a size six when this was over.
"I think I'm going to go ahead and head home," the slayer announced. "Mom wants to rummage through the basement tonight for some old baby stuff."
"If you want, I'll send Xander and Andrew to help you," Anya offered helpfully. "They're good at moving heavy objects and can scare away any small rodent-like creatures that could have possibly taken up residence since Spike's departure."
"You know, I might have plans for tonight," Andrew spoke up in a tone that reminded the slayer of when Dawn was younger and her mother had volunteered her to do some of her sister's chores because Buffy was busy with slayer stuff.
"Oh, you can watch Obi-Wan and Spock go in search of new lifeforms tomorrow night," Anya said dismissively with the wave of her hand before turning back to Buffy. "I can send them over after patrol."
"Obi-Wan and Spock?!" Andrew balked, but no one was paying him any mind any longer.
"That's alright, Anya. I think me and Mom and Dawn can handle it."
"Nonsense," the ex-demon said with the same tone she had used on Andrew, and also proving that she had been hanging around Giles for far too long. "You're pregnant, so you shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting. Joyce is too old to be doing that sort of stuff, and Dawn's too scrawny to do it."
"Obi-Wan and Spock?!"
"Anya, it's fine. You don't have to-."
"They'll be there later, so just wait to move the boxes until then," the shop-owner ordered, and with that the subject was closed.
Buffy glanced over to Willow. How the hell did Anya do that? Willow could only offer a confused shrug which caused the slayer to groan slightly before heading once more for the door.
As she left into the late afternoon, Buffy heard Andrew exclaim on last time, "Obi-Wan and Spock?!"
There weren't many people out that afternoon, which was fine by her. She really didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people right at that moment, and just wanted to get home where her mother was waiting. Buffy almost felt like she had when she was still in school and had to hurry home directly after because she was grounded for some reason or another. Of course, the baby kicking inside of her quickly reminded the slayer that this was not the case.
She passed in front of the bank downtown, just down the road from the movie house that she and her friends had spent a lot of time at the summer between her senior year of high school and freshman year of college. Xander had thought the marathons would take her mind off of Angel's departure, but the theater itself only reminded her of him. Still did, but at least it didn't hurt anymore to think of him.
The slayer was so lost in her own thoughts that she had failed to see the man walking towards her who was concentrating on a piece of paper he carried. The two inevitably ran into one another, nearly knocking Buffy to the ground and causing the man to drop what he was reading.
He grabbed for the pregnant woman he had bumped into so she wouldn't fall, all the while rattling, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you."
"Geez, sorry," Buffy said over his words.
"Are you okay? I didn't hurt you-?"
"No, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
They both spotted the paper that had landed next Buffy's foot and went for it at the same time, causing the two adults to knock their heads against one another. A pair of twin groans echoed on the street from the contact, as the blonde reached up and touched the side of her forehead. The man she had run into did the same, then laughed softly. He held up his hand to tell her that he was going to go for the paper, then retrieved it.
"I'm sorry about that, Miss," he apologized again. "I should have been looking where I was going."
"No, I was the one spacing. It was my fault."
"Well, I suppose if no one was hurt, it doesn't really matter," he smiled.
Buffy looked over the man before her who was finding so much amassment in their little accident. He was about Xander's height and build, but was wearing a suit that her friend couldn't even afford in his dreams. He was an older man as well, probably about as old as her mother had been when they moved to Sunnydale all those years ago. His hair was thinning and receding further and further north and he reminded her a lot of her father, Hank.
"Hey, maybe running into you was a good thing," he went on. "I kind of gotten myself turned around and maybe you can point me in the right direction."
"You got lost in Sunnydale?" Buffy asked, raising her eyebrow skeptically. At his sheepish smile and shrug, the slayer added, "Wow. That takes some real skill there."
"What can I say? My wife says that I would get lost on my way to the mailbox." He then looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and then handed it over to the pregnant blonde, who found an address written on it. A very familiar address. "Could you please tell me how to get to Crawford Street from here?"
Buffy stared at the paper, looked up at the man, then up at the sky just to be sure that the sun was still out and she wasn't talking to a vampire. Well, her slayer senses weren't going haywire telling her he was one, or even a demon for that matter; but he wanted to go to the mansion! Angelus' mansion! That could only lead to evil things…right?
"You're heading to the mansion there?" she asked, trying not to sound like she was prying but not really succeeding.
The man laughed again. Apparently that wasn't the first time he had been asked that.
"Um, yeah. My wife and I just moved into the place. And yes, we've heard the stories about it being haunted and a place of evil, and no, we don't believe it. The only thing evil I can find about the place was that ugly, life-size, gargoyle statue in the garden. I mean, I know my wife has brought home some hideous looking art work before, but whoever bought that thing must have been blind! But I guess it does keep the animals away from my wife's roses."
Buffy smiled nervously. Oh, God, she'd forgotten they'd moved Acathla into the garden after Angel's return. Now the statue that could potentially open a portal to hell was being used as a glorified scarecrow? Oh, the guys were going to love this.
"Well, if you can just point me in that direction, I would be very appreciative," he went on, asking for her help once more.
"Oh, um, yeah."
She turned away from him and pointed the way for him, all the while making a mental note to keep an eye on anyone who would willingly move into the old place. When she was done, Buffy turned back and saw a relieved look on the man's face.
"Thank you so much. If I'm late for dinner, my wife's going to kill me." He seemed to consider the woman who had just helped him for a moment, then extended his hand out to her. "I'm Kenneth. Kenneth Shelton."
"Buffy," she answered, plastering a fake smile on her face as she took his hand in hers.
"Well, Buffy, it was nice meeting you. And thanks again for the directions." He began to walk the way she had told him, but stopped and turned back to the blonde. "I'll see you around sometime?"
"Oh, I'm sure you will," she agreed.
He smiled again, then continued on his way.
"Geez, dead for seven years and she's still got guys hitting on her? Now that takes some real talent."
Buffy spun around to face the voice, her eyes wide as she forgot all about Kenneth Shelton. No. It couldn't be.
She stood leaning against the bank, a smug smile on her face. Her dark hair fell onto her shoulders in loose curls, giving her the appearance of someone much younger than she actually was. Of course, the low riding jeans and tight gray t-shirt didn't help much either. She looked just like Buffy remembered. The only thing about her that looked remotely old were her brown eyes, but that should be expected of slayers. The blonde knew hers were very much the same way.
With a sigh, Buffy said, "Hello, Faith."
**********