Please forgive the lateness.  I know this story is coming out slowly, but, hey, it's getting close to the end.  Well, I hope you guys enjoy and, as always, please review.

Special thanks to Kriken for being such a great beta.

****************

Part 15: Truth Be Told

Sebastian walked with the souled vampire, his eyes locked dead ahead as they traveled along the dark, downtown streets of Sunnydale.  Neither one of them had said a word since leaving the mansion, not even about what they discovered.

Empty.  The place was empty.  All the people who had been there hours before were now gone, leaving only the creepy feeling the old home had always possessed. 

They had gone there after finding that Dylan had indeed followed orders and let Kenneth and his group take Buffy and herself.  Connor had just come to when they arrived, but Willow was in pretty bad shape. 

Even if they were possibly going straight into the lions den after finding the two Summers women gone, Spike had told Faith to take the two to the hospital.  The redhead needed help and Connor needed to be looked at, just-in-case.  Besides, this was only supposed to be a recon mission, until they found that there was nothing to recon.

Sebastian stood back, and watched as Spike stalked to the center of the living room, barely containing his rage.

The boy jumped slightly when Spike grabbed the edge of the coffee table and threw the piece of furniture across the room.  He growled as it shattered upon hitting the fireplace mantel, then turned his burning yellow eyes at the child who had brought him.

"Where are they?" he demanded.

"I don't know."

The vampire closed the gap between them.

"I'll ask you again," he said, grabbing Sebastian by the shirt and lifting his whole body up to where he was now looking him in the eye. "Where are my wife and daughter?"

Bastian raised his arms between the ones that held up him, and swatted them away, causing Spike to drop him to his feet again.  Taking a few steps away from the bigger man, Sebastian continued to glare.

"I don't know."  Slowly, the boy straightened his back and glanced over his shoulder towards the main entrance. 

He didn't know where they could have taken them.  Then, no one told him anything anyway.  Generally, he had to pick things up by ease-dropping when no one thought he was listening or ignored the fact that he was standing right there.  Still, Kenneth and Diana had not said a word around him about not coming back to the mansion once they had Buffy.  But that didn't mean that they didn't discuss it with someone else.

He turned his gaze back to Spike. 

"But that doesn't mean that Grandfather doesn't."

The two had headed right back to the Magic Box after that.  Angel had volunteered to take the still unconscious old man there while the others had gone to checkout Sebastian's claims of betrayal. 

The shop was filled Scoobies, who were mostly gathered around the ex-Head of the Council they had tied to a chair.  Each member present bore the same expression of disgust and hatred for the unconscious man.  And none of them seemed upset by the large bruise starting to form on his face, or pointed out that Angel might have bound him a little too tightly.

Dawn was the first to notice their return.  The discontent for the Watcher melted off her face and was replaced by worry.  She was silently begging the vampire to have some better news for her.  But Spike could only drop his head, telling her that there was none.

"I take it you did not find them," Giles said.

The vampire shook his head.  "No.  They abandoned the mansion a while before we got there."

"Where else might they have gone?"

The question seemed to be directed at the group, but everyone's eyes turned to the young boy that had accompanied Spike.  Even the children, who had been hiding under the loft, had turned their attention to him. 

"Kid says he doesn't know," Spike said, glaring at the boy before turning back to Buffy's old Watcher.  "But said Tweed Boy might."

Giles considered Travers for a moment.  "That may be true.  But he would never help us."

"Especially since he kind of did all this," Xander said.

"That would be working against his own gains," Oz added.

Andrew sighed, leaving the children under the loft to join the grownups, ever ready to add his own useless two cents.  "Yeah, to bad we don't have Wonder Woman's magic lasso of truth.  Then we could just make him tell us."

As the young man continued to stare sadly at the old Watcher, the rest of the group exchanged a look.

"Andrew, you're a bloody genius!" Giles exclaimed, heading off to the back room.

"What?  We actually have a magic lasso of truth?  Why wasn't I told about this?"

**********

Buffy slowly opened her eyes.  Her head was throbbing, causing her to groan as she came back into consciousness.  The child inside of her was being its normal, active self, kicking against her ribcage like his sister used to be so fond of doing.  Groaning, the blonde reached to touch her stomach, only to find her arms restrained.

That got her attention, causing Buffy to fully forget the slumber she had been enjoying.  She began to jerk wildly at her arms, but could not lift them any higher than a few inches off the bed.  When she pulled at her feet, she found that they, too, were bound.

"You might want to calm yourself," a cool voice said.  "You wouldn't want to upset the baby, would you?"

Buffy lifted her head the best she could and peered off into a dark corner of the dim room.  A sleek figure sat there; the top part of her body hidden in the blackness, leaving only her perfect legs crossed in the moonlight.  The moon was the only thing providing any light from an open window, and Buffy found it nearly impossible to make out the woman.

"Who are you?" the blonde asked.  "Where's my daughter?"

"She's fine.  She's with my husband."

Slowly, the woman rose from her chair, but her face was still hidden.  Even as she walked across the room and to the foot of Buffy's bed, her features were nothing but darkness.

"That can't be comfortable," the woman mused, before bending down and disappearing from the slayer's sight completely.  There was a cranking sound, and Buffy felt herself being raised to a sitting position.  Satisfied, the woman stood back up.  "There, that's better.  Isn't it?"

"Not quiet," the slayer said, jerking once more on the restrains.

"I'm afraid those are rather necessary for the time being." 

Now that she was sitting up, Buffy looked around the room. 

It was old, and looked as if it had seen better days.  The walls were dingy, with wallpaper that was cracked and peeling off.  There was old medical equipment that had long ago been abandoned and was gathering dust.  And there was a track on the ceiling for a privacy sheet. 

Oh, God, she was in a hospital room!

Panic unintentionally set in, causing her stomach to turn as she fought once more for her freedom.  But her bonds held strong, leading the slayer to believe that perhaps they had given her something.  Yeah, now that she thought about it, she did feel kind of weak.

"Please, calm down," the woman said again.

Buffy had every intention of fighting the request, and even saying a few choice words that mothers should not say, when the woman sat down on the bed.   As the slayer looked up, ready to let her venomous words fly, she found herself staring into a pair of deep, piercing eyes.  She found herself transfixed by them, unable to look away or fight.  They caused Buffy to settle back and relax.

"There," the woman said warmly, almost sounding like her mother.  "Isn't that better?"

A familiar tightness twisted in the blonde's stomach, causing her to scrunch up her face from the pain and draw in a sharp breath, the calm she had felt now forgotten.

Oh, God, not now.  Please not now.

The smile on the dark-haired woman's face grew bright and excited.  "He's coming.  My boy is coming."

**********

The first thing Travers was aware of was the blast of cold water that hit his face.  He gagged a bit, then opened his eyes.  The vampire backed away from him, a now empty glass clutched in his hand.  Mr. Giles was seated in front of the old Watcher.

"Good morning, Starshine," a brown-haired man said.  Travers recognized him as one of the slayer's friends, though he had never bothered to learn the boy's name, since he was of no importance.

Ignoring the young man, Travers kept his attention on the fellow Brit.  "How good it is to see you again, Mr. Giles.  Forgive me if I do not stand up and greet you properly."

Giles' eyes remained narrow, but Travers ignored him in favor of testing his restraints.  He pulled at the rope that bound his wrist together behind his back, gritting his teeth from the pain that shot up his injured arm.  They had at least removed the arrow, and, thanks to the tight ropes, they had effectively stopped the bleeding.  Knowing Rupert, they probably even bandaged the wound. 

Soft to the end. 

That was why the man in front of him was an unsuitable watcher.  He let his emotions get the better of him.  Emotions were for the weak.  Leaders, real leaders, couldn't have them; they would just get in the way.  Rupert never did learn that lesson.  But then, that was why Travers had become the head of the Council and he did not.

Travers glanced at the floor around him and snorted. 

"A truth spell, Rupert?  How very like you," the old man mocked.  "The mystical, hands-off approach."

"This coming from a guy who uses women and children to fight his battles?" Ms. Faith said.  She quirked an eyebrow upward, considering Travers like he was some exotic dish her mother was trying to get her try just once, before asking, "Once we get the info, we can do the hands-on thing all we want, right?"

"By all means," Rupert said, never taking his eyes off the old man.

Travers couldn't help but snort again.  Yeah, he'd believe that when he saw it for himself.

They had him in a training room, probably the one they had set up for Ms. Summers in the back of that dreadful little store Rupert owned.  The equipment was no where near the standard that they used at the Council headquarters; most was old, worn and looked as if they had seen far better days.  Travers was surprised that, trained on this equipment, Ms. Summers lasted as long as she had.

The group that had gathered before him was made up of some of the players in the game; Rupert, the vampires, the miracle child, and Ms. Faith.  There was that one friend of Ms. Summers who had come to watch the festivities and greeted him so warmly when he awoke, but Travers pegged him as little more than a bit player. 

And then there was the boy.

Sebastian sat Indian style on top of a large stack of mattresses, watching the old man.  His face was even and unreadable, just like it always was. 

Funny how Travers always thought that to be an asset, and wished he would teach Dylan such a trick; now that very asset had proven to be the means of the Watcher's downfall.  He couldn't read the boy.  He hadn't been able to tell what he was thinking and planning to do.  Now, here Travers sat, tied to a chair being interrogated by a group of inept and fairly stupid people because of his own failing with the child. 

"Well," the onetime Head of Council said.  "Best be on with it, I suppose.  Don't want to keep that lovely little couple of psychos waiting, do we?"

"Pot and kettle there, mate," the younger vampire said coolly.

"Yes, I suppose you would say that," Travers bit back.

He heard it growl at him but paid it no mind.  The older one, Angelus, had stepped up and held his grandchilde at bay.  After all, if they killed him now, they wouldn't get the information they wanted, now would they?

Once sure William the Bloody wasn't about to rip Travers' throat out, Angelus' son asked, "Are we sure that the spell is working?"

"Only one way to find out."  Ms. Summers' friend took a step closer to the captive, and asked, "Hey, Grandpaw.  What do you think of our little vampire friends here?"

Briskly, Travers answered, "That the world would have been far better off if Ms. Summers had done her job and destroyed both of these creatures as her duty calls for her to do, instead of whoring herself out to them which released Angelus and now will potentially destroy the world."

"Looks like it's working," the carpenter muttered to himself before something the old man said struck him.  "Whoa, wait.  Go back to that 'destroy the world' thing."

"That's why you freaked when I told you about Buffy," Sebastian spoke up from his perch.  "Because Kenneth and Diana are planning on doing something more than just taking the baby, aren't they?  It's more than just payment."

"Payment?!" Spike barked, his eyes flashing yellow.

"Of course it is more than payment."

Angel was having a hard time keeping Spike back this time.  The ex-Watcher thought that perhaps it was time he took over this interrogation before Travers blurted something else out that would surely cause his demise before they knew everything.

"Payment for what?" Giles asked with a controlled voice. 

"They brought Ms. Rosenberg back from the Shadow Realm for me," he explained.  "It was discussed then.  They helped me with the problem of getting my damphry back, I would help obtain one for them.  The agreement was struck again after I had them raise Ms. Summers for me so I could break Dylan in properly."

"Break her in properly," Spike said through his teeth.

Chuckling, Travers answered, "Nothing like a mother witnessing their child's darkest moment.  Brakes even the most stubborn spirit."

This time, Angel wasn't able to hold the vampire back.  In a flash of black, Spike had knocked Giles out of the way, grabbed the old man by collar, and lifted him and the chair he was tied to upward.

"What did you do to her?" he growled, the demon threatening to surface at any moment.

The Head Watcher blinked once, his jaw hanging from surprise as he stared at the vampire before him.  Then, a wicked grin grew on his face.

"She didn't tell you," Travers mused happily. 

The tone reminded Spike of Angelus; that 'I'm enjoying this pain I'm about to cause you' with just a hint of the true insanity behind his eyes.  And Angelus was crazy, more so than Drusilla could ever dream to be.  To his grandsire, death was his art; his passion.  He didn't kill for food.  He didn't kill because he was hungry.  He killed because he liked to.  It was their nature, that's true enough, but most had their limits; Angelus did not.

And it was terrifying that a human being had just reminded him of the old bastard.

"Well, let me be the first to congratulate you then, William the Bloody, on producing a child that is just as good at the kill as you."

"What?"

"That precious little girl of yours, your own little redemption, is nothing more than a killer."

"That's a lie!" Sebastian barked defiantly.

"I'm under a truth spell, boy," the old man pointed out, savoring the look on the vampire's face.  "How could it be a lie?"

The room was silent for a long moment, none of them daring to even breathe as they absorbed the information.  Now that they knew, about what Dylan had done, things were making sense.  How she was trying so hard to act like everything was normal.  Why she never once spoke about what had occurred during her absence.  And that look, the knowing one that she and Buffy were always passing.  Everything about his daughter's actions over the past month just fell into place and formed a more horrid picture than he could have ever imagined.

Oh, God.  What had this lunatic done?

Spike let go of the old man's shirt, causing the chair to fall back hard and scrape against the floor.  If there was one thing that had hardly ever happened in his life, it was him being struck speechless.  Buffy had done it a couple of times – once when she told him about Dylan and when she had returned from the dead – but those had been the only times.  Now, the onetime bleached blond was at a loss for words, and could just stare at the man who had taken his daughter's innocence.

"Dylan killed someone?" Connor asked.

"Broke his neck like she had been doing it all her life," Travers stated proudly.  "One well placed kick, and that, as they say, was that.  The force twisted his head clean around his body.  There are pictures, you know.  Crime scene photos.  I'm sure that a… person like yourself would love to have one to mount on his wall."

"It's all your fault," Sebastian countered, defending his friend.  "You started the whole thing!  Dylan was just defending herself, like you knew she would."

"Of course I knew she would," he barked.  "Self preservation is a fundamental drive found in all creatures.  Even in backstabbing little things like you."

"Hey!  Lay off, Grandpa," Faith bit coldly, stepping forward.  "Look, I'm all willing to lay the colossal smack down you have comin' for what you did to those kids - not to mention the shit you put me and B through way back when - but the way I figure it, we got more important things to do right now than kick your crusty old, British ass all the way to hell like you deserve.  So why don't you start singin' like the good little canary Giles turned you into and tell us where in the hell B and Pickle are."

"They're not back at the mansion?" Travers asked, sounding surprised.  "Well, then, I suppose you wouldn't have went through all this trouble if they were."

"So you don't know?" Faith asked.

"Not an exact location, no."

The brunette slayer shook her head, a small grin growing on her face.  "Looks like it's ass kickin' time, then."

"You don't know exactly," Giles interrupted, stepping forward before Faith could throw the first punch.  "But you have a general idea, then?"

Travers made a face.  "Really, Rupert, use your head.  They need the child.  Where would you take a woman who is about to give birth soon?"

"A hospital."

"Or somewhere like one, with medical supplies."

Angel said, "Xander."

"On it," the carpenter said, taking off for the door that led into the show room to tell the other what to look for.

"Of course, they could care less if Ms. Summers makes it, but the child must live," Travers said more to himself than them.

Giles pressed the old man.  "Why?  What are they planning on using the baby for?"

Travers sighed.  "I told you this already.  They want to use it to destroy the world."

"How?"

A tiny grin reappeared on Giles old boss's face.  "Substantia Seco."

Travers watched as his old employee turned several shades whiter, his eyes growing large behind his glasses.  Well, he would be proud of Rupert for knowing the reference, if he didn't hate him so much.

"Substantia Seco?" Angel repeated.  The words felt strange in his mouth.  He never was any good with Latin.  "Doesn't that mean-."

"Divided Spirit," Spike provided.  "Roughly translated."

Travers smiled at him.  "Give the beast a pat on the head."

"Dear, Lord," Giles said.   

Oh, no.  That look wasn't good. 

"What have you done?"

"Made a pact with the devil," Travers said, leaning back to make himself comfortable.  "Don't worry so much, Mr. Giles. You might not have come prepared, but I most certainly have."

"What do you mean?" Sebastian asked.

The old man glanced at the child.  He knew what he meant; there was no way he couldn't.  But, still, he had asked and, when Travers opened his mouth, the truth would come out no matter what.

"Dylan has her assignment, and, unlike you, I do not think that she is about to turn on me.  She'll do her job.  This was what she was born for, to stop evil such as this.  And you know she has to stop it, don't you, Rupert?"  The old man smiled wickedly.

She would do her job, he knew she would. 

That baby would not live long enough to even take its first breath.  His granddaughter would make sure of that.

**********

"Where are they?"

The room was busy, everyone trying to get everything ready for the ceremony later that evening.  The preparation was taking longer than expected, since they had to move everything from the mansion and had not been able to focus on this task. 

And now there was an annoying little girl buzzing about, slowing things down even more.

Kenneth turned from one of his followers, and plastered a large, faux smile on his face that adults use with pestering children.

"I told you.  Your grandfather and Sebastian had some business to take care of," the middle-aged man explained.  "But they'll be here soon enough."

Dylan frowned at the man.  Her arms were crossed and the look on her face said she didn't believe him.

God, he couldn't wait to be rid of her.  Just a few more hours, and her part will be done and he would never have to look at her angelic little face ever again. 

"Emily."

A random cult member appeared at his side.  She was an older woman, with gray hair and a wrinkled face.   She looked like she should be home baking cookies for her grandchildren, not participating in cult activity.

"Why don't you help Dylan get ready?" Kenneth asked her.

"Of course," she answered in much the same tone before turning to make the child leave with her.

Dylan continued to frown, but then followed her now assigned chaperon. 

Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly.  Grandfather wasn't here, and neither was Bastian.  Well, she guessed that didn't change anything.  She knew what she had to do.  And, God forgive her, she would do it.

Yeah, she was going to get ready. 

She just wondered if Kenneth and Diana were.

**********