Part 12: Dog Days of Summer
Kenneth sighed as he walked out into the late afternoon, the heat hitting the middle-aged man hard and causing him to clear his throat. It was an unnatural heat; nothing like a June afternoon should be like. Yes, summer and heat go together, hand in hand, but not like this. He couldn't even imagine it being this hot on the surface of the sun itself.
Kenneth frowned as he walked into one of the gardens and found his wife sitting in front of the large statue yet again. The concrete that had been poured to make pathways through the flower beds had steam sizzling up from the water that had accidentally leaked onto it when the gardens had been watered. It appeared hell itself was trying to break free from under his lovely bride's feet, and yet she failed to notice. She didn't even seem to care that her fashionable outfit had started to cling to her body, which really caused Mr. Shelton's concern about Diana to rise.
"Darling," he called, trotting up behind her. "It's awfully hot. Why don't you come inside with me? I'll have Nathaniel bring us some lemonade, and we can look in on Travers and his-."
"He's coming soon." She rose to her feet and continued to stare at the statue. Then, she turned to face her husband, her face neutral, if not a bit excited. "Very soon."
"Philip?"
"Our son," Diana corrected, unable to stop the smile that appeared on her lips. She glanced over her shoulder to the sculpture, as if it had given her this wonderful news and she couldn't thank it enough. "He'll be here on the solstice."
"The solstice!" When she nodded her head, he hurried forward, grabbed her by the arms, and forced her to turn and look at him again. "That's tomorrow. Are you absolutely positive?"
She smiled at him, a hint of seduction on her lips.
"As sure as I am that the sun will be burning when he arrives."
Lazily, she rolled her head towards the cliff that overlooked the town below. Pulling out of his grasp, she took a few steps forward for a better view, her eyes sparkling darkly as she spoke.
"It's amazing, isn't it? The day Travers' Angel arrived, the world froze for the pure snow to fall and greet her. And that star shone in the night sky to tell the world that a champion for good had arrived. Funny how one man, one that was supposed to help save the world by helping her, changed all that because of a taste of power, isn't it?"
"Power is intoxicating," Kenneth said with a shrug. "We know that."
"Yes, it's always about the power," Diana agreed in a low voice. She sighed loudly, then turned back to her husband. "And now, thanks to that wonderful man, that little Angel is going to help bring us ours. One to save."
"One to end." He grinned, taking a hold of his wife's waist and pulling her against him. Dropping his face next to her ear, the middle-aged man whispered as if it was the most seductive thing in the world. "One to freeze."
"And one to burn." She growled before capturing her lips with his.
**********
Sebastian frowned as he watched the couple in the garden from his perch in the second story window. He hadn't heard what they had said, not being this far away; plus, with the air-conditioning and fans running throughout the manor, it would be nearly impossible to hear them even if they were yelling. However, the boy knew what Diana had told Kenneth. She had faced him long enough for Bastian to catch it.
They were out of time. He was out of time.
Glancing over his shoulder, the young boy looked at the old man sitting at the desk.
Damn him. How many lives had to be ruined or lost to give him what he wanted? Ten? Ten thousand? The whole world? And for what?
Power. That's what Diana had said, and, for once, Sebastian agreed with her. Every single one of them was in it for the power, and none of them seemed to realize that they would never get it.
They were all puppets, not puppet masters. Travers pulled his strings. The old man had foolishly attached himself to the couple in the garden, so they pulled his. And, from somewhere out there, something was pulling theirs. It was an endless succession of puppeteers, all of them using the others to gain the power.
Well, Pinocchio was tired of this show. Jiminy had come into his life, and instead of listening to the conscious, he had let it be crushed and turned into something no better than him. Not anymore. It was time to cut the strings and become a real boy.
It was also time for him to stop watching those stupid Disney movies.
**********
There were things in life that nature just did not intend to mix: jocks and band members, plaid and poke-o-dots, Star Trek fans and Star War fans. These things just did not play well together. They were mismatches. Objects of the universe that were best left as far away from each other as possible, yet they always ended up being thrown together in the end. Together, they made things wrong. They made things uncomfortable. They made things unbearable for those caught in the cross fire. But none of these were as bad as a pregnant woman in the middle of summer.
"Ugh! Hot!" Buffy whined loudly.
Throwing the thin sheet off her body, she rolled over onto her side. The small fan set up beside the bed was now blowing directly in her face before twisting to move down the length of her body. It helped a little…very little. Okay, hardly at all. Her mother's old room still felt like a sweat box, even with the AC turned all the way down, the fans turned all the way up, and the considerable lack of clothing.
The living arrangements had changed over the past month, trying to accommodate everyone who was now calling Revello Drive home. Dylan and Dawn had gotten to keep theirs, but the rest of them had spent the better part of a month trying to adjust to their new rooms.
Joyce had given her daughter and Spike her old bedroom, claiming that they would need the bigger room for when the baby comes so they could fit a crib in there. Buffy had felt bad about taking it, but the older woman had also pointed out that it made more sense because she was usually in LA or New York anyway. She was more of a guest now than a resident, and they needed the space.
Another reason her mother had insisted on the couple taking her room was because it was connected to Dawn's. Once she moved back to campus in the fall, they were going to make her room into the nursery. Well, she wasn't so much moving back to campus as moving in with Connor in a few months, but they hadn't told Spike that yet. With any luck, they never would either.
Joyce herself had moved down the hall into the old storage room across the hall from Dylan. It was much smaller, barely more than a closet with a window. But once the junk had been moved to the attic, the twin bed fitted into the room nicely and she still had a little space to put her stuff.
And Angel was crashing down in the basement, Spike's old place of residence. Buffy knew he didn't like it down there - and that Spike didn't like him being here period - but he had to make due with what they had. Her ex had stayed on after bringing Dylan home, per her request, especially after they had found out why Faith was there. Throw in the fact that Buffy was about to give birth, and it would probably take an act of God to make the soulful champion leave. And that only came with a probably, leaving heavily towards 'still not a chance in hell.'
"It's a heat wave, love," Spike said with a grin, tugging on his black T-shirt before sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. "It tends to get a little warm durin' those."
"Shut up!" Buffy glared at him. "It's your fault anyway."
"Mine?"
"Yes, yours."
"Don't remember orderin' up the heat, pet," he said, not following her line of thinking at all.
The slayer made a showing of rolling her eyes before pushing herself up to a sitting position, mainly resting on her elbows.
"Not that, you bloodsucking moron. This." She swept one hand over her stomach, which looked like it was ready to pop. "You didn't tell me you could go around having all the kids you wanted."
"How the bloody hell was I supposed to know?" Spike exclaimed, an equal amount of amusement and aggravation in his tone. Though his eyes were slightly narrowed, his trademark smirk played on his lips as he continued. "Besides, I didn't get you there all by my lonesome, kitten. As I recall, you were pretty involved yourself."
"I'm still never going to let you near me again once bitty here is born."
"Bitty?" he replied chuckling. "I think you've been hangin' around us Brits too long, pet."
She couldn't help but grin back.
"No disagreement here. My life has been nothing but one big British invasion since I got called. First Giles. Then the Council. Wesley. You. It's a regular whose who of crusty English guys."
"Watch it, Slayer."
"I'm just saying that I guess I was bound to pick something up. Okay, I mean language wise, not…what you're thinking." She smiled as he began to laugh. "I mean, Giles is like my dad, only, you know, way better than my real one." Then adding as an after thought, she said, "And we're practically married."
The playful air they had been enjoying suddenly wasn't so playful anymore at the mention of the 'M' word. To be truthful, neither one of them had ever really thought about it. The very idea sounded rather ludicrous.
Spike was a vampire and vampires don't marry…anyone. They mate, which was close to the same thing, but different at the same time. With a mate, you didn't have a big ceremony, with family and friends there to watch – at least not if you're normal.
And, while it was recognized by the demon community, it wasn't in the human. A W2 form doesn't read "Married, Single, Mated" on it. And one certainly didn't go up to old friends and says, 'Oh, we got mated last October. We claimed each other on my mother's kitchen floor after having mind blowing sex. You really should have been there. It was quite lovely.' Okay, so maybe Anya would say something like that, but normal people didn't.
Buffy shifted on the bed, feeling even more uncomfortable than before. Maybe because the sad thing was, part of her actually did want to get married.
She just kept thinking about what her grandmother would say about this. That, without that little gold band, they were only playing house, even if they already did have one kid and were about to have another. They could still walk away from each other and feel that there would be no consequences because, well, they were never married. Practically wasn't the same thing. Mated wasn't the same thing. No matter how much they would like it to be.
Spying the digital clock next to the bed, Buffy sighed. Faith would be here soon to pick up Angel and Spike for patrol. Not that anyone expected a lot of activity in this kind of heat. Still, they would go out, do a sweep of the town, then head back to the Magic Box to research with the others for any info on Faith's cult.
So far, they had come up with a whole lot of nothing. No names, no way to know what they want. The Brazilian police didn't even know what they had really been called; they just referred to them with the name the newspapers called them. Buffy couldn't remember what it was called in Portuguese; just that Giles said it roughly translated to Followers of the Evil Spirit.
The only other thing they knew was that the head honchos had been a couple of North Americans, but that was it. Lots to go on there. Well, at least that safely eliminated the British people in town as being the people they needed to take out. For that anyway.
Buffy knew Spike would really rather not go out with them, he never did, but especially tonight. Her doctor was coming over to give her a quick check-up, see how things were moving along, and he didn't like missing those in case anything was wrong.
Plus there was the fact that Dylan had caught a cold somehow. Buffy wasn't sure how the girl picked it up, but the poor kid had spent the better part of the day coughing and sneezing with no relief in sight.
His girls were sick and uncomfortable, and Spike didn't like leaving them in that state. But it was better if he went on patrol because, as she said, there was a cult out there, not to mention possibly Travers lurking about.
They would be fine here. Willow was coming over later to hang out with her and Dylan while her mom went to the gallery, and Dawn was at the Magic Box with the others. And, for extra protection, Angel had pretty much permanently posted Connor in their living room while he was out. Especially when both he and Spike were gone.
"Faith's going to be here soon," she finally said, turning her attention back to him. "You should, you know, be getting ready."
"Would really rather stay here with you, kitten," he answered, a flash of relief passing through his eyes before he settled into a more relaxed tone.
"We'll be fine." The blonde placed her hand on top of her enlarged stomach. "Connor will be downstairs. Willow will be here too. Besides, you'll be gone for what? Two hours? I was fine without you for a whole month. I think I can survive a couple of hours."
He smirked at her as she grinned at him. For a guy who had once lived by 'Blood, guts, and glory. Sod everything else' he sure did worry a lot.
Leaning over, he kissed her softly and felt the grin grow into a smile.
"Mmmm. Cold," she said, pulling him a little closer.
So much for that whole 'never touching me again' thing.
*********
Dylan sat on her bed, staring at her computer screen as she read the message that had been sent. So that was the plan? Well, she could go along with it.
She had been playing sick for the past week, knowing that it would be happening soon. Now that it was 'going down,' so to speak, she couldn't help but feel a bit anxious. Well, it would all be over soon, she just had to keep telling herself that. It would all be over and done with soon.
It was easy enough for them to believe she was indeed sick, considering the sharp contrast between inside and outside their home. Buffy had it cold enough in the house to hang meat in the hallways, and outside it was so hot that she, Van, and Jessie had actually been able to fry an egg on the concrete. The rest of the Scoobies wouldn't even come in the house anymore unless they had too. And Dawn had been practically living at the Magic Box or at Connor's in an effort to escape the freezer they called home. So, the idea of Dylan actually getting a cold in the middle of summer really wasn't all that far fetched for anyone to believe.
Closing her laptop, she glanced down to the end of her bed were Sid had made himself comfortable. The solid black cat had its paws tucked under his large body, and looked like he was trying to sleep like that. Reaching over, she tried to pet the animal, but, as soon as he spotted her hand, the black tabby recoiled. Her ever faithful cat bowed his back, his fur standing on end as she tried to touch him, all the while hissing and growling dangerously at the young girl. He even took a swipe at her for good measure, forcing Dylan to retreat her hand.
A deep frown, full of hurt, found its way onto her face before she forcefully kicked the cat off her bed, and sent it searching for safety. A moment later it seemed, her father opened the door, and the house cat took off like a black streak of lightening into the hallway.
"Bloody, soddin' cat!" her father swore as the animal escaped between his feet, nearly causing him to trip. He then turned his attention to his daughter, who was still sitting on her bed, looking as innocent as possible. "What the hell is the matter with him?"
"He's been acting crazy all day," she told him dismissively. Remembering that she was supposed to have a cold, she sniffled and made her voice sound more congested. "I don't think he likes Angel being around."
"Who does?" Spike shrugged, before glancing down the hall to where the cat had run off to.
That stupid creature had been acting bonkers ever since the Poppet came home. Of course, that was how long the Poof had been here too. And if that pet really belonged to his family, it should hate Peaches good and proper.
"Dad?" Dylan asked, bring father back to her attention. She gave him a curious look, silently asking 'Is there something you want?'
"Oh, um, 'bout to head out for the night. Wanted to check on you before I left."
Making a perfect 'o' with her mouth, Dylan watched as he quickly walked across the room to her.
"Angel and Faith going with you?" she asked, knowing full well the answer to her question already.
"Yeah," he sighed, flopping down next to her, which made the young girl bounce in the air a little before settling again on the bed. "Figure we can use Mr. Extra Strong Hold Hair Gel as bait while me and the Second String finish 'em off."
"Why do you call her the Second String? Faith is the slayer."
"Correction, pip. Your mum is the slayer. Faith is a slayer. She'll never come close to Buffy. Trust me, I fought enough of their kind to know."
"Don't you mean my kind?" Dylan asked.
They all knew the prophecies well enough. She might just be a kid now, but, someday, the little girl beside him was supposed to grow up to be some end-all slayer. She was showing potential already, and she was only eight.
That didn't mean that he had to like it. The very idea of his daughter being called made Spike's blood run colder than it already was. He knew the life of a slayer very well, he had taken two and loved the third. Hard, violent, brutal, and generally short pretty much summed it up.
Even if Buffy and Faith never showed it anymore, the first three described their existence well. It was a fluke that they had managed to live this long…well, that Faith had. Buffy…they still weren't sure about her.
"Naw, pet. You're a different sort of breed all together."
Spike failed to notice the crestfallen face that crossed over her features briefly.
Different sort of breed? Meaning, she's not even human enough to be a slayer? God, what was she then? More importantly, what did her own father think she was?
Sighing, the soulful vampire glanced towards her window and found that the sun had finally set. That probably meant that Peaches and the Slayer Sequel were waiting on him.
"Guess I better be goin' then," he said, rising to his feet. A thought crossed his mind before he asked, "Who left the hall window's blinds up?"
Okay, act surprised, like it was an accident. Not that you were trying to keep him and Angel out of your room while you were talking to Grandfather.
"Oh, um, sorry," Dylan apologized sheepishly. "I was really cold earlier, and, um, I must have left the blinds pulled up after I, ah, closed the window."
She watched as he seemed to consider her answer carefully, all the while presenting him with the innocent smile of a child. After several seconds, he shrugged and Dylan had to fight from heaving a sigh of relief.
"Just be more careful next time, pip. Some of us ain't so sun friendly."
"I will," she lied sweetly.
That satisfied him on the subject. Spike then bent down and gently kissed her on the forehead. His lips were like ice against her skin, and Dylan couldn't fight the shiver that traveled up her spin from the added coldness he had introduced. This time, he did notice his daughter's discomfort and pulled away quickly.
"I'll see you in a couple of hours," the vampire said, before grabbing her nearby long sleeve shirt and draping it over her shoulders. She smiled as he quickly rubbed his hands up and down her now covered arms. "Try and keep warm 'til then."
"I will," she said truthfully this time.
Snorting a laugh, Spike gave his daughter one last look, then turned to head downstairs.
Dylan wasn't sure what made her do it, what made her call out to him. All she knew was that she had been watching him go, and then suddenly heard herself speak.
"Dad."
Spike paused in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder to his little girl. There was something in her face, like she wanted to tell him something but couldn't quiet find her voice. After several seconds, Dylan jumped off the bed, hurried across the room, and wrapped her arms around him tightly.
"You love me, right?" she asked from left field.
"What? Course I do."
"No matter what?"
"No matter what," he repeated before pulling her away to look in her face. "Do you have a fever or something?"
Well, she wasn't flushed by what he could tell, she had been sounding better when they were talking, but that didn't mean that she still wasn't really sick.
"No, I'm okay," she said, shaking her head to accent her answer.
"Are you sure? I could stay in tonight with you and your mum if you want."
"Naw, it's fine. I just-."
"Yo, Blondie! Let's get a move on here!" Faith bellowed from downstairs. Even if Spike didn't dye his hair anymore, she hadn't given up the nickname. Probably never would either.
"You better go," Dylan sighed, stepping away from his grip. "She sounds irritated."
"She's a slayer, pip. They're always irritated."
"Even Mom?"
"Especially your mum," he said grinning before becoming gentle again. "Be good for her tonight, eh."
"Sure."
"I'll see you when I get home, then."
"Alright. Bye."
Spike nodded his farewell, then took off after the voice that had called for him.
Dylan stood in her doorway for a little while, then walked across the hall to her grandmother's room and peeked out the window that overlooked the front yard. She watched the trio of adults go down the front walk, Faith out front while her father and Angel began to bicker behind her.
Though she hadn't heard Connor arrive, she knew that he had to be there for them to go ahead and leave. Willow would be there soon, and so would that doctor friend of hers. Not that many people in the house. Nothing they couldn't handle.
No matter what, her father's voice echoed in her mind, causing Dylan to sigh. Well, looks like they'll get to test that theory tonight.
**********