Part 6

"Life has to be lived looking ahead, into the unknown, but it can only be understood by looking back, to what was, to the mistakes made by others. To understand you have to search for the fire that has burnt inside those that were."

Kolhapur, India

1267

The girl ran through the fire, trying to protect her body from the burning heat. Her sari was dirty, clinging to her sweaty body as she ran on silent, bare feet. Her hands were bloodied from her relentless hold on her knife; and still she ran. She fled the house that was being eaten alive by the flames. She had left many bodies behind her, crushed under her power, cut to pieces by her knife.

As the building started collapsing around her with one swift jump she crashed through a window, landing outside on her knees, breathing heavily. Her hands left bloody prints on the ground in front of her as she gathered herself for a moment before rising off the ground and continuing her run, turning the corner still clutching the knife in her fist.

A smile crossed her lips when she saw the white man, pale and dirty from the smoke and ash, his hand burnt, leaning on the wall, looking down. "John! John!" she yelled holding up her knife. "Prophecies can be wrong, John!" she added and the old British Man looked up, his eyes filling up with tears. Then his statement turned to horror as a demon detached himself from the flames and rose silently behind the slayer.

"Sadyia!" he screamed, trying to reach out for her. But he was too late. The demon's claws pierced through the young girl's back, coming out through her stomach. Disbelievingly, she looked down at the bloody hand coming out of her belly; then her knife dropped from her numb hands.

She lay dead in the arms of the demon she had left for dead. The watcher fell to his knees, crying as the demon let out a savage cry and pulled out the heart of the slayer, swallowing it whole. Blood trickled down his chin as he looked at the pitiful watcher gathering the heartless body of the slayer into his arms, rocking it back and forward like an infant. The demon scowled in disgust- the watcher wasn't worth killing. Turning his back on the scene, the demon disappeared into the flames.

"But I was more then that! Much more! I wasn't just a dead slayer. I was a dead child. Only 17! My mother thought me a poet! I was a dreamer! I wanted to live! And John, poor John! He killed it for me! He tracked it down into the pits of Asia. He did it for me and only then he went back to England. They wanted to give him a new slayer…"

London, 1270

"No, I'm too old… I've lived my share of chaos. I want to go back. To Manchester," John Cabot said watching his rum absently.

"Are you sure, John? This girl is amazing, from Russia, rich too. Might be a change for you," the elder spoke, watching the man in front of him with pity. John Cabot would not live long without his slayer. No watcher could.

"He lived two months in Manchester, one in New Castle. He began drinking. A lot. He didn't see the horses coming," Sadyia said absently caressing the hair of the sleeping slayer. Her sari shined in the darkness of the room. She sighed, her form began to shift, her face whitening, her hair lightening, and her shape slowly began to diminish. "I was so young. I still wanted to play with puppets. I wanted to ride ponies and go to the circus. I just wanted to be like other little girls, but I was special…"

Glasgow, England

1412

A small blond girl stood on the table, wearing a dark blue dress, and on her small feet she wore boots. They were twice the size she needed; she could barely drag her feet forward in them, and yet, she was the slayer.

The tall British man paced in front of her. "I don't want you to go alone, Giny," he said while the girl crossed her arms over her chest, cross.

"How am I ever going to be a good slayer with you watching me all the time?" the girl shook her head.

"I'll watch you until you're old enough to take care of yourself. You're just a child, don't forget that. If the demons won't get you, the people will. And you can't kill them," the man said stopping in front of her.

"Then why'd they make me the slayer?" she asked looking down.

"I ask myself that question every minute of my life," he said while he was tying the laces of her boots. "You take care of yourself, you hear me?" he hugged her.

"I will, uncle Mal, promise I will," the girl returned the hug, a sad smile on her face. Sad smiles were the only kind she could afford to give.

"I didn't keep my promise. But you see, I couldn't have known. I didn't know there was going to be more than one. I thought it was just that one," the child explained as the slayer shifted in her sleep.

Glasgow, 1412

The watcher walked down inside the cave, holding up his torch to see better. The ground was humid. He had decided to break the promise to his slayer and search for her while she was hunting. She was there inside the cave somewhere, where she had followed a demon the previous night. To avoid stepping into a pool of water he reached out to hold on to the cavern wall. As soon as his fingers touched it, they withdrew almost instantaneously. There was slime on the wall. He lifted the torch nearer to get a better look. The whole wall was covered in it, a green disgusting slime, leading up to the ceiling in a thick leer. His eyes went wide when he realized what it meant. He began speeding up, carelessly stepping in the slime, water and mud, caring only to make it on time. "Ginny! Ginny!" he began screaming her name waving the torch around wildly.

"Uncle Mal?" a tiny voice answered his call from far away.

"Regina, is that you?" the watcher yelled running through the cave towards the voice.

"I told you not to follow me!" the voice reminded him.

"I couldn't well leave you alone!" The watcher yelled feeling relieved. He passed a corner and found Regina standing, with a familiar cross look on her face, next to the corpse of a demon, still holding an ax in her small hands.

"I'm never going to grow up with you around!" Regina sighed. The watcher smiled, then noticed the slimy walls beginning to grumble.

"Regina, move away from the walls," he told her.

"Why should I…" Regina started.

"Now!" he rose his voice and Ginny moved away a little taken aback. The slime walls suddenly broke releasing a herd of hungry demons from their eggs. Ginny and her watcher didn't have a chance to escape. They were eaten alive. Shredded to pieces.

"I don't even have a grave. Most of us do. I would've wanted one. Somewhere nice. Near our house in Glasgow, but they couldn't find a piece of my body intact, Uncle Mal's either. We were just a mass of meat pounded into the earth with the slime and the mud," the girl's face twisted into a disgusted grimace. She closed her eyes, touching the wall, her form changing, her curly hair rising up, her skin becoming black.

"You don't remember me, I'm sure, but you were told of me," the girl said moving away from the wall. "You know…"

New York, 1977

A Billy Idol-like vampire was fighting the black girl in a subway car. They traded blows; matching strike after strike until suddenly, the slayer felt the wall of the car against her back.

"And of course…"

New York, 1977

Spike broke her neck like a twig.

"Not much of a story there, huh?" the girl said lunging over Buffy. "How would you feel about that? Someone taking your life with just one twist of the neck?" her hands encircled the neck of the slayer. Her features twisted into anger for a small moment before returning to its indifferent glance. She took her hands from around her neck.

"Do you know me?" she asked as her features turned to those of a white girl, with long black hair and big brown eyes. Her voice betrayed an Italian accent. "It's funny…" she said her hand trailing the sheets of the bed. "Someone mentioned me today. That doesn't happen every day. Actually it happens once every five or more years. And it wasn't even my name… I'm that slayer you know. The oldest slayer," she sat down on the edge of the bed watching the features of the sleeping slayer, her ghostly hand reaching out, caressing her cheek. "Let me tell you another story. It's about a girl, not exactly a common girl, a Venetian courtesan…" she sighed looking down absently at the sheets for a moment before returning her attention on the slayer. "You'd be amazed how much that helped me."

Venice, Italy

1783

"Morning, ladies," the British man climbed down the stairs cheerful. The various women walking out of their rooms, barely dressed, some naked, gave him their most seductive smile.

"Bon giorno, Ionatan," they greeted him sleepily.

He shared their smiles as he headed towards the room of his protégé. He opened the door carefully, trying to avoid making much noise. He chuckled at the sight of his slayer, half-dressed, slumped on her bed, her shoes not even taken off. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached down and stroked her head. The sleeping slayer stirred under his touch.

"Isabella… Wake up. Izzy, wake up," he told her softly. Her hand reached up caressing his thigh. The watcher stiffened, his hand freezing on her head for a moment. Isabella suddenly rose up, sustaining herself on her free hand, and kissed the watcher. He sighed, letting her have the kiss. She slumped back down in the bed, her hand not leaving her watcher's thigh.

"Is it morning already, Jonathan?" she asked sleepily.

"I'm afraid so," the watcher cleared his throat taking her hand off his thigh. He pulled a small package from his pocket. "Here. Happy Birthday."

"Birthday? Already? I thought I just passed one," she said straightening up a bit. She took the package from his hand.

"Last year, yes," Jonathan told her.

"I guess the years are just getting shorter," she said opening the package.

"It's not much, it's…" his words were stopped by a high pitched shriek of happiness from Isabella.

"It's beautiful!" she said holding the pendant close to her heart. "I love it!"

"Really?" Jonathan looked up, smiling. Isabella jumped in his arms, kissing him. She sent him crashing down on the bed, straddling his waist. "Uhm, Izzy, you're not wearing any underclothes."

"I know, but I don't think you mind," she said pressing her naked flesh down on him.

"I thought we agreed not to…" a finger on his lips silenced him.

"It's been more then a year, Jonathan. Let it be," she said and bent down to kiss him again. He didn't oppose her anymore.

She stepped into the abandoned mausoleum, carefully watching where she was placing her feet. She had left a spent Jonathan in her bed, the other girls to their work, and went hunting, even on this night, her birthday. She hadn't encountered much, a few lone vampires barely risen from their graves. And now another seemed to be hiding inside the mausoleum. She stepped inside, putting more and more distance between herself and the exit. Suddenly, the stone door shut behind her, startling her. She turned around to see a vampire buried in the shadows.

"Well, well, if it isn't the mighty slayer," the vampire said stepping out of the darkness and pacing around her. "The undefeated champion. The unbeatable hero. Humanity's great gift. A whore."

"I've never met a vampire who liked to talk as much as you," Isabella said unimpressed by his coldness and the danger he seemed to emanate. She had met him on more then one occasion, but she always fought to keep herself calm around him.

"I've never met a slayer that likes being a whore. Tell me do you please demons too? Or do you even know the difference?" he asked looking up for a moment. "I've always wanted to try a slayer… see if they're any good."

"I don't pleasure anything dead or vile," the slayer said taking a fighting position.

"Not much for talking, are you?" he asked. The slayer tried to punch him, but he blocked her swing.

"Fine. Have it your way," he punched her in the gut and she returned the hit. They started fighting and when it seemed Isabella was winning a hand grabbed her from behind throwing her across the mausoleum and into a wall.

"You didn't really think I came alone, did you?"

"Oh, look, she did," the female vampire said smiling. "Foolish little thing. So did she give you your money's worth?"

"Afraid not," the vampire said sighing with fake disappointment, while Isabella gathered herself and rose off the ground.

"What a pity… then you'll just have to take what you paid for," the female vampire suggested as the slayer prepared for a fight.

"I suppose I will," the vampire grinned and put his game face on.

"Ever been tortured to near death? I wish I would've just been decapitated, would've washed away some shame. But you know not all of us can get a righteous death. I didn't. Jonathan didn't either. He tried finding the vampire but he seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. Jonathan hung himself in the library of the Watcher's Council. It was suppose to be a statement. I'm not sure they understood that," the girl said.

"Would you like to know who the vampire was?" she asked leaning down over the sleeping slayer. "Angel" she whispered. Buffy suddenly flashed inside Isabella's body, her hands held up by hard chains, her body drowned in sweat, her clothes shredded while a knife played along her body. Holding the knife, his body an inch away from hers, Angelus stood, whispering something into her ear. She realized she couldn't hear very well anymore, her ears were bleeding. An excruciating pain crossed her body as the knife pierced the skin and entered the flesh, sinking deeper and deeper inside her. Then Angelus's free hand reached up to her neck choking her. Pulling the hair from it, he sank his fangs into her.

Buffy woke up gasping for air, her chest moving spasmodically up and down. In the sudden awakening, she saw shadows dancing in the room, a man carrying a woman towards a tomb, then the horrible sound of metal hitting flesh, then rock. She closed her eyes and when she opened them there was nothing left but an empty room. She looked down at her body. She was whole. Not one bruise, not one cut.

"That's what you told her?" Faith arched an eyebrow.

"And she actually believed you?" Gunn asked.

"Well what else is she suppose to believe?" Cordy raised her shoulders.

"The fact that he use to worship you, wouldn't make much of a difference, would it?" Wesley asked, looking over at Fred who was singing on stage while Lorne and little Wes stood next to it, talking.

"Yeah, in a 'I want to make her feel worse' kinda way," Cordy said taking a sip from her drink.

Fred finished her song and the patrons of Caritas applauded. "What a performance! Let's give her a big hand!" Lorne applauded and was joined once again by the patrons. Fred took a little bow, smiled and retreated to the table.

"And now for the first time in our club, Keggar the slime demon!" A gooey demon slithered onto the stage, took the microphone from the host's hand, and started to sing a rather sloppy version of 'Feelings'.

"So what do you think about your Aunt Fred?" Lorne asked little Wes, who was sitting up on a high chair.

"I think she's confused. Sad a little. Daddy does that to her. She goes all weak in the knees too," the boy said looking over at Fred. She noticed him staring and she wove at him. He returned the wave. "I don't know why."

"Pretty good for a four year old," Lorne admired. "You're gonna' be one hell of a soul reader some day. Uh, let's not tell mommy about that 'hell' I said, okay?"

"That's not an ugly word. Hell. Daddy was there," Wes said.

"They don't know that you…" Lorne started.

"No. Daddy thinks it's going to appear when I'm going to be older. I don't want to upset him," Wes told him.

"You are such a thoughtful child, Wes. So what do you think our slimy friend's thinking about?" he turned towards the stage.

"Lard. Tons of it," Wesley said making a grimace.

"Well at least now we know were he got all that slime from," Lorne said smiling.

"Someone came today," the boy said looking away.

"Who came?" Lorne asked, he had felt a certain restraint in the boy all night, but hadn't been able to figure out where it had come from.

"Buffy," the boy said and Lorne was obviously surprised. He hadn't heard anything about this particular slayer in years. Before, he would hear demons that would pass through LA from Sunnydale complaining about her, but for the last few years they hadn't said or thought anything. "Who is she uncle Lorne?"

"A slayer your daddy protected a long time ago," Lorne said. "Why? Is something wrong with her?"

"I don't know. I feel something strange about her. Something wrong," the boy said thinking about everything that he had seen that day.

"Oh, well, she was brought back from the dead once. Maybe that's what you feel," Lorne said confusing Wesley.

"You can bring people back?" he asked.

"I don't know if you can anymore. You see…" Lorne started while little Wesley awaited an answer. "It's very complicated. I promise I'll explain it when you're older."

"That's the second promise I was made today," Wesley said.

"What was the first?" Lorne asked.

"That I can use the microwave when I'll turn five," Wesley smiled and Lorne chuckled. He was such a strange child. Sometimes he seemed to be like every other 4-year-old out there, and sometimes he seemed frighteningly old and wise. But then again he was no average child, he was the son of a slayer and a vampire. In front of them, he'd always be a child though. Thinking back to Connor, Lorne realized Wes wasn't peculiar in any way. Angel's children would always be different. Each one, in their own way. He only hoped Wesley wouldn't walk the same path as Connor had.

"And there's something else about her. Daddy… when she's around him, he feels like Aunt Fred does when he's around her," the boy said, wanting to tell his Uncle Lorne about Fatima, but something seemed to hold him back, telling him Uncle Lorne didn't have to know.

"And let me guess, you failed to mention you're half-demon too?" back at the table, Faith asked.

"Yeah…but…" Cordelia started offering an excuse.

"Suppose she just happens to see you doing one of your levitating tricks," Wesley said shaking his head.

"You'll give her a heart attack," Gunn agreed.

"I don't get why you'd want to hide that anyway. I mean you and Angel, I get, but your half-demon thing?" Fred shook her head.

"You people are impossible," Cordy said. "This is like a voting booth. Whose for letting Buffy know I'm a half-demon? Everyone but me raise your hands."

"Hey! You people voted and made me shave my mustache and beard off," Wesley reminded her.

"Yeah, but that was like, common sense, but this… It's just…" she sighed. Every time they had a group talk, she felt like she was in some sort of confessional. "All the time she knew me I was a complete anti-any-demon, and now I'm a half-breed, what would she think?"

"Uh, Cordelia show me your horns?" Faith suggested smiling.

"What happened to the whole 'I'm not secretive about being a half-demon, who ever doesn't like it can go to hell' idea?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, you've been doing it for the last 7 years and now you're suddenly not sure because Buffy's here?" Wesley asked.

"Fine! I'll tell her the first chance I get to," Cordy gave up. Maybe everything would speed up and she wouldn't get that chance.

"Talking about chances, here's yours. I think it's time we hear your song, guys," Fred said. Cordy, Wes and Gunn grimaced.

"Do we really have to?" Cordy asked.

"We only did it so we can make fun of Angel while he's singing anyway," Wesley said, but Fred and Faith didn't want to hear it.

"Actually we did it to make fun of you," Faith said giving them one of her old wicked smiles.

"C'mon, Cordy, it can't be worse then your 'Only you' after six shots of tequila," Fred said smiling.

"Don't remind me, my ears still ring just at the mentioning," Lorne said as he and Little Wesley rejoined the group. He watched as the boy clambered up onto a chair next to his mother.

"And what did Uncle Lorne teach you today?" Faith asked her son.

"Slime demons eat a lot of lard," Wesley said all smiles.

"Now there's something you just had to know," Gunn said before taking another sip from his glass.

"Another step towards becoming the newest employee of Angel Investigations," Wesley toasted in honor of the boy before drinking his beer down in one draught.

"Don't worry, he's just trying to scare you," Cordy whispered to little Wesley. "You'll get us off your case after you go to college."

"But I don't want you off my case. I like it just fine at home," the boy said before stealing some peanuts from a bowl.

"I wish you'd say the same in 20 years," Faith said sighing. She shook away the feeling of something crimson belonging to the future and gently caressed her son's hair before placing a kiss on his forehead. "Now you three get your asses up there before I hurt you," she addressed Cordy, Gunn and Wesley. The three looked at each other horrified that they had to sing again.

"C'mon do that thing again… with the trailing off," Faith said coming into the lobby laughing. "And I thought I sucked!"

"Ha, ha, very funny," Wesley said shaking his head.

"I thought it was funny," little Wesley rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"We should've come back earlier," Faith said seeing her poor son so sleepy.

"He was the one who wanted to hear everyone sing," Gunn said. "Wonder where he gets all the stubbornness from?"

"Is that even a question worth answering?" Wesley asked looking at Faith and then at Angel who was just coming downstairs.

"Hi. How did it go?" Angel asked while taking his son in his arms. The boy rested his head on his shoulder and fell asleep almost instantly.

"On a scale from 1 to 10, 10 being the most humiliating night of my life. I'd give it a fair 7. Let's face it, nothing's gonna beat my jealous rage against a demon, or the fact that I winded up in a five star hotel without underwear," Cordy said and Angel smiled.

"I don't want to know what that last thing was all about," Faith said.

"You really don't," Fred assured her.

"So how did things go with Buffy?" Wesley asked. "Did you talk to her?"

"Not really. After you left she just scampered off upstairs to bed," Angel said, sitting down on one of the lobby couches.

"You didn't do anything like, oh say, follow her?" Cordy asked arching an eyebrow.

"Cordy," Angel's voice rose slightly.

"Sorry, old habit," Cordy said smiling.

"Anything unusual happen?" Gunn asked.

"No. Everything was quiet," Angel assured them.

"I guess we'll just wait for tomorrow, see what happens," Wesley said stretching. "I'm going up. Good night, all," Wesley added before going upstairs.

"Yeah, we better hit the sack too," Gunn said taking Cordy by the hand.

"Sweet dreams," Fred told them as they disappeared upstairs. "I better go too, I think tomorrow's gonna be a long day," she kissed little Wesley on his forehead and then she lifted her head towards Angel almost instinctively kissing him, but instead, at the last moment, she kissed him on the cheek, whispering a 'good night'.

After Fred went up to her room, Faith looked at him for a moment.

"What?" Angel asked noticing her stare.

"She has a thing for you," Faith told him.

"She use to," Angel said.

"She does. But this time I think it goes both ways," Faith said. Angel gave a look that she knew meant 'I don't know what you're talking about'.

"C'mon! I saw the way you look at her. And Gunn saw more than that."

"We were just fooling around… Not that kind of fooling around! We were just playing," Angel defended himself.

"And almost kissing," Faith said. "You don't have to hide it from me. I love Fred, she's completely adorable."

"She's just so sweet," Angel said a smile he didn't even feel curving up on his lips. "I think that's what I want. What I need. Something sweet."

"So how about B?" Faith asked sitting down for a moment.

"Buffy…She's just Buffy. It can be ten years, a hundred years, but the moment she walks in my life… boom! It's an uncontrollable feeling. I could never explain it."

"I wish I'd get that," Faith said somewhat envying him.

"You will, someday," he told her.

"I wish I could believe that. I feel old, Angel," Faith said sighing.

"Old? Where does all this pessimism suddenly come from?" he asked.

"B," Faith simply said. "Until now it was living day by day, but then she crawled out of no where and I remembered everything. You don't know what it's like. You'll live forever."

"I'm still hoping that changes," Angel reminded her.

"And I want what you want to get rid of. I don't want to be old and wrinkled and not even be able to throw a good punch, it's too freakin' scary for me," Faith said looking down.

"What are you saying?" Angel asked seriously worried about what her words implied.

"I don't know," she chuckled trying to ease the tension the conversation was gaining. "I've been having these weird feelings for a week or so. Like I should be dead or something."

"Don't be stupid. We need you alive. He needs you alive," he whispered referring to their son. "I need you."

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't. And God Angel, I'm afraid I'll live alone for the rest of my life and I won't find anything close to love. I mean, really, who wants a vampire slaying single mother whose done time for murder anyway?" she asked and stopped Angel from saying what he wanted to say. "And I know what you're gonna say. You're gonna tell me I'm wrong, that I already have love and it's true I do, but sometimes, there's… this emptiness inside me…" her voice trailed off. "Is that what you felt after you left her?"

"In the beginning, but then I had a whole new life and before I realized it, I couldn't find an empty spot in my heart anymore. And Buffy… I still feel love for her, I can't lie to you, but what we had ... it can never be like it use to be again. She's been gone from my life for ten years, ten long years in which I haven't been there for her, she's been through so much without me, done so many things…she's not the person I knew. She's not the teenager dancing the clubs, always joking, worrying about her studying, always complaining about her little sister, her teachers, her watcher. She's not the girl who use to sneak out her bedroom window to hunt in cemeteries, she's not that girl anymore. She's older and she's been through hell. A hell I haven't seen and I don't know anything about. And even so whenever I see her, I remember everything we use to have and I can't help but smile and just want to hold her in my arms. If through some great miracle we'd actually have another chance together, it would be something different, something totally new."

"A different kind of love?" Faith smilingly asked as she sat down next to him.

"Mmmm-hmm," he said. Her smile suddenly faded.

"I'm scared. I don't know where it's coming from...but all of a sudden life scares the shit out of me," Angel put an arm around her shoulders bringing her closer to him.

"It's okay. Everyone gets scared sometimes," Angel said placing a kiss on her forehead and resting his chin on her head. Wesley stirred in his arms. The boy was awake, unknown to his father, staring behind him, at the walls.

Angel left his apartment being as quiet as possible. Faith had fallen asleep in his arms down in the lobby along with their son and he had carried them both upstairs. Now, he just wanted to check on Buffy one last time.

The door to the room he had chosen for her was closed. He knocked once, calling her name. Not getting an answer, he knocked again before entering the room. It was empty. The sheets were gathered up in a bundle in the middle of the bed, the shirt she had been sleeping in carelessly thrown on a chair, some of her clothes missing. He immediately looked at the windows, they were all shut. The bathroom was closed, the lights off everywhere. He smelled the air in the room, it smelled like vanilla and cold salty sweat and something he couldn't place, an aroma that reminded him of old and burnt things. He left the room, deciding she must have gone down while he had been tucking in Wesley.

He searched for her in the lobby and then in the kitchen. She wasn't there. He was about to leave the kitchen when he heard the muffled sounds coming from the basement. He opened the door and climbed down a few steps. She was there taking out her anger on a punching bag that hung from the ceiling. She didn't even notice him, she was so absorbed in what she was doing.

A smile crossed his lips before he climbed back up and left the slayer alone in the basement.

She was standing in the darkness of the lobby. She couldn't bring herself to climb back up in that room or fall asleep. It was past 5 a.m., but she was too horrified by those ghosts. The fact that her daughter was in the hands of four of them must have triggered some kind of unconscious self-torture. Tears fell down her face at the knowledge that her daughter was gone. The last shred of her life, her last hope. The only one who truly needed her. Because now, no one needed her, not the world, not her friends, not her family. As she wept, she didn't notice the small, silent figure moving down the stairs.

When she looked up she was startled to find little Wesley's hazel eyes staring back at her. For a moment she wondered if this was how Angel had looked as a child.

"Wesley…" she said trying to wipe away her tears with her hands that were sore from her workout.

The boy just looked at her and then pulled her hands away from her face.

"She's all right, you know," he said with a pity uncommon for children that young.

"What?" Buffy suddenly looked up. The boy sat down next to her. There was a long silence before she asked: "Wesley, what did you mean by that?"

"She's all right. She said I should tell you the lady takes care of her," Wesley said looking up at her.

"How…when-when did you see her?" her voice was shaking.

"This morning. She came to me while I was in school," he said.

"She's all right, she's all right," she began repeating uncontrollably, tears falling down her face. In the instinct of the moment she hugged the little boy to her chest almost crushing him in her embrace, but Wesley said nothing, for some reason it didn't really hurt him.

End Part 6