Chapter 4: Immigration

A/N: For disclaimers etc see chapter 1
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Chapter 4: Immigration

"Come, my Lord, Your apostles await," Faith said.

"Stop that," Xander replied.

"You can't hide in here all day, O Holy One."

"Seriously, knock off the my lord stuff. Or get with the kneeling."

"Been there. Done that. Just last night, I seem to remember, yeah? With my bod I thee worshipped even before you were a god, an' if you're a good little cult leader it might happen again, but right now, I'm hungry for, you know, food. Eggs and stuff. So come on."

"Well, I can't go now."

"Oh please. You're an Xander, you're supposed to walk funny."

She took his arm and together they went along the hall, down the stairs, through the lobby and saw the others waiting, turning almost as one to grin at the approaching couple like a clowder of cheshire cats.

"Uhoh," Xander said, "this looks not of the good. Maybe if we edge to the left and run for it…"

"Nah, whatever it is, might as well get it over with."

"O---kay. Just remember…."

"Yeah, yeah, they're just silly people and I'm not allowed to beat them up just for calling me a slut…"

"Well, if they call you..." and the gang parted and let Faith and Xander see what was in the room and the little fenced yard beyond and Xander gaped and Faith said,

"Oh my fucking god."

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"Have some pancakes," Luke said.

"But I want a doughnut," Lorelai whined, "I woke up this morning and the first thing I thought was 'I want a doughnut.' Okay, first thing I thought was 'Alarm clocks are proof of Satan's presence in our world,' but right after that I thought, 'I want a doughnut.'"

"I'm all out of doughnuts."

"How can you be out of doughnuts? What's a diner without doughnuts?"

"Have an omelet."

"I want a muffin then."

"I'm all out of muffins."

"How can you be out of muffins?"

"Have some toast."

"Seriously, Luke, how can you be out of doughnuts and muffins? Is there a wheat shortage? A baker's strike? Surely I would have heard about a baker's strike."

"I had doughnuts. And muffins. I sold them. That's what I do here. Sell doughnuts. Have some eggs."

The bell rang as the diner door opened and Rory Gilmore came in to join her mother.

"Don't even bother sitting down," Lorelai said "there's nothing to eat here."

"What do you mean there's nothing to eat?"

"I'm out of doughnuts and muffins," Luke said, "but you can blame your mother for that, she's the one who booked the Xena convention. Who knew they ate so many doughnuts in ancient Greece."

"Did they even have doughnuts in ancient Greece?"

"Well, if they didn't I'm sure Xena would have invented them, but they would have been called chakranuts…. Or maybe doughchakrams… but it's not a Xena convention…"

"What kind of convention is it?"

"Well, I thought they were German scientists."

"Why did you think….., you know, I don't want to know. All I know is that a bunch of women wearing black leather with swords on their backs came in here bright and early and bought all my doughnuts and they wanted to know when Taylor opened so they could buy out his Twinkie and Hoho stocks…."

Lorelai turned to Rory, "See, now you have to come to work with me, if guests of the Inn made a doughnut run Sookie will be throwing a fit, which means Michel will be having a breakdown and I know how much you love watching Michel have a breakdown."

"That's not me, that's you. I'm the angel child. I'm nice to people. You're the one who likes to pull the wings off flies…"

"I do not like to pull the wings off flies…."

"Only because you're afraid of small insects…"

"So, Luke, can I have those pancakes to go?"

"What pancakes?"

"You said I could have pancakes."

"I also said you could have eggs. Do you want pancakes?"

"No. I want a doughchakra…nut. With sprinkles."

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Giles watched the emotions coruscate across Faith's never stoic face while Willow babbled on, oblivious,

"They're so cute, aren't they cute, I just want to wrap them up and take them all home like a box of puppies. Did anyone smuggle in a camera? I know we weren't supposed to bring cameras but we have to get a picture of this…"

This was one frazzled attendant minding a few toddlers in a playpen while in the gameroom and in the little fenced in outdoor playground, miniature Faith's and Xanders, about a dozen or so of each, complete with little leather outfits and tiny Hawaiian shirts amused themselves and each other, after a fashion. Fortunately their parents weren't total idiots and the few swords in evidence were of the floppy rubber kind, walking sticks were absent and what eye patches there were had been quickly discarded.

Giles was no judge of children's ages, the youngest he guessed at around five or six, the oldest at the age where they were eyeing the fence and thinking of escape but hadn't actually done it yet. Earlier from his window Giles had seen a small coterie of adolescents slinking away behind the potting shed where he supposed they were holding a colloquium of disenchantment, mocking the Great Harris and smoking …. something. Possibly just tobacco.

"Ohh, look," Willow said, "that little Faith is rubbing that little Xander's nose in the grass. Remember when I used to do that?"

Mostly, Giles noted, they had separated by gender, but there was one little mixed group, a couple pairs, and a few isolationists. In one corner a little boy wearing what, in any other circumstance would be a wholly masculine black leather junior MX suit, sat arranging some dolls into a tea party setting which a couple of little girls eyed covetously, their rubber swords forgotten.

Dawn had joined in with Willow in the nudging Xander and cooing fest, but Giles saw the grin had faded from Buffy's face to be replaced by concern as she too took in Faith's mixed reaction, saw the slight glisten of unshed tears before Faith turned and half-strode half-ran back across the lobby and out onto the Independence Inn's manicured grounds. Xander paused a moment, took one more look at the costumed children, smiled, shook his head and turned to follow after her.

Buffy leaped to join him, "Xander, I'm sorry we didn't think…"

"It's okay, Buff, no tragedy. Just caught us by surprise a little. Makes sense, really, should have expected it. She'll be okay, she's just a little freaked. You gotta admit, it's a little weird…." He grinned, "they are kinda cute though, ain't they?"

"Oh yeah. You go on now, take care of her." Buffy turned back then and let herself lean into Giles waiting shoulder. "Oh god, Giles, you don't think they've been trying…"

"I have no idea."

"You don't suppose…."

"No, and I'm quite certain. I've seen her medical records Buffy, there's never been any indication of any remaining damage beyond the external scar." He felt her relax a little, braced himself for the next group moodswing as the excess cuteness high faded and the various women began to contemplate their own situations.

Giles himself, since first encountering Buffy had had enough young people cluttering his life to feel no more than the occasional slight twinge at the absence of his own progeny, Jane, the woman he was currently "keeping house" with was joyously child-free… but he knew Buffy was of an age, now that a full lifetime seemed possible, to start hearing the faint ticking of that clock. Willow too.

It was still relatively rare, but there were enough slayers with children now to establish that it was possible. But still the incidence of miscarriage did seem to be higher than the average for 'normal' women of that age, though no one knew whether that had to do with slayer physiology or lifestyle, or just randomness in what was after all truly too small a sample to draw any firm conclusions from. But Giles knew it was there in Buffy's mind, and, he assumed, in the thoughts of any other potentially parental slayer.

Still, it seemed to Giles, based on the many sad stories he either heard himself or second hand from any number of stressed watchers' moaning by proxy on his shoulders, the main barrier to happy nuclear slayer families was finding suitable mates.

A slayer's life, while vastly improved since the activation, was still perilous and demanding, and in many ways being a slayer's paramour was tougher still, and those up to it were rarely the stay at home and knit booties sort. As well, slayers, much as they might bitch and moan about finding some nice normal guy, very seldom fell for the domestic type. With a few exceptions, of course.

As for Willow… well, it wasn't something that was going to happen by accident and the witch still had all kinds of paralyzing issues that prevented her from taking the necessary deliberate steps to make a child happen. Though Giles had a feeling that despite her timid air Kaitlyn had enough spine to force a decision of some kind in the middling near future…. All of which, Giles suddenly decided, was more than he wanted to contemplate before breakfast on what was after all the first vacation he'd taken in years.

"Shall we, ladies?" he said, nodding toward the dining room, "if the dinner service was anything to judge by, breakfast may well be worth lingering over."

He felt Buffy throwing off her momentary melancholy, saw Zoey brighten and start forward herding Dawn and Willow along, first rule of slayer management, food always an acceptable alternative to sage advice, or anything else, really.

Andrew and Timothy were already at a table, laughing, "Oh my god, you guys, you missed it…"

"Missed what?" Dawn asked.

"A couple of the Faith's came in with boxes of doughnuts," Andrew said, and Timothy interrupted,

"The real funny part was how all the waiters suddenly disappeared."

"No," Andrew insisted, "the funny part was when the chef, this fat little blonde number about this high, came out and chased them around the room with a cleaver."

"The waiters came back, didn't they?" Zoey said, looking around at the half-empty diningroom, just as a dark-haired head peered out of the kitchen, then a slim latino came hurrying over to their table.

"Good morning," he said, "I am Pedro, I will be your waiter, and please, someone order the Chef's special omelet or the Quiche Sookie or the Sunrise fritatta… or just ask for something difficult…."

"Relax, Pedro," Giles said, "you've come to right table."

The visibly relieved Pedro was delivering coffee and Giles' tea when Xander and Faith returned, Faith with just a slight hint of redness around the eyes, but smiling.

"Sorry guys, just caught me by surprise a little. These people are out of their minds."

"Yeah," Dawn said, "but you gotta admit they were cute."

"What's cute?" Andrew asked.

"Oh nothing."

"It's okay, really," Faith said, "there's a daycare center Andrew, with kids dressed up like me and Xan and if I see even one picture of them on your website you're a dead man. Pass the menu, would you."

Faith had finished her "Egg's Olé " and had started on her Chef's Special Ham and Bacon omelet with extra bacon and extra ham when Willow suddenly gasped and sat up straight staring, Faith turned to see where her gaze was fixed and saw a tall brunette striding energetically through the dining room and into the kitchen.

"Goddess," Willow whispered, turning to Kaitlyn, "did you see her aura?"

"Yes," Kaitlyn answered with a shudder, "what do you think it is?"

"I don't know, but I think we better find out…. Oh my."

Faith turned again and this time saw delicate girl, pretty in a mousy sort of way, walking slowly thought the dining room pausing to talk to one of the waiters before following the brunette into the kitchen. Faith turned back and saw Willow grinning goofily, her wide smile echoed on Kaitlyn's suddenly radiant face.

"Hey, Red," she said, "what the hell are you two on and how come I didn't get any?"

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"Sookie," Lorelai said, "what did you do?"

"Nothin'."

"Michel says you chased three of our guests out of the dining room with a cleaver."

"It was nothin'. They didn't even fight back."

"Maybe because you had a cleaver?"

"They had swords. And greasy diner doughnuts. In my dining room. I should have made "lamb fritters" out of them and called it "The Special."" We could be famous."

"With our new slogan, 'Eat a Doughnut and Die.'"

"Hey, catchy."

Lorelai pulled Pedro aside, "Why is she happy now?"

"Table twelve ordered the daily specials, two of everything. With extra bacon."

"Hey Sookie," Rory said, coming into the kitchen.

"Hey Rory, have a tart."

"How come I didn't get a tart?" Lorelai complained.

"Rory needs to fatten up little, put a little meat on those bones."

"And I don't?"

"Ummm."

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

"No. No. Not at all. Here. Have a tart. Have some bacon on it. Have some butter on that bacon, or, here, have some lard, you want some lard?"

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Lorelai found the women, several one-eyed men and a collection of half-empty doughnut boxes just outside the inn.

"Ladies, I'm sorry, the chef is a little high-strung, great artists,…"

"Ah, don't worry about it, it was fun," one of the women said. "Is it safe to come in yet? We can leave the doughnuts out here, right? Doughnuts, kind of a thing with us, but some of us want to have a real breakfast."

"Sure, come on in… would you mind… if I just had one? And took one for my daughter?"

"Help yourself. But if we see that cleaver you're on your own."

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"These are very strange people, Michel," Lorelai said, joining him behind the front desk.

"You are telling me these are strange peoples? I am telling you since yesterday when the very first one arrived that these are very strange peoples. Of course, since it was your chef who was chasing people with a cleaver, you are perhaps not in a position to point fingers, yes? So I am telling you, these are very strange people."

"Am I looking particularly attractive today?" Lorelai asked.

"No, not particularly, why?"

"Why, thank you, Michel, such old fashioned charm, it makes a girl feel all special."

"You asked, I answered, I speak to you only the truth. It is a compliment."

"Only in the Land of Michel… Gerardia. Did you know, that sounds very much like a disease I think you get from drinking water cows have flapped in. I saw it on the Discovery Channel. They had pictures of cows flapping."

"Thank you so much for sharing that with me. It is a moment I shall treasure forever."

"Where was I?"

"You were wondering if you were more beautiful than usual and I said you were not."

"Oh, right, I just wondered, because those two women keep staring at me."

"You mean the redheaded woman with the eye patch and the man's shirt and the brunette in black leather who keeps holding her hand, they are not staring at you, they are staring at Rory."

"Oh. Really. Do you think it's wrong that that upsets me? No, because if it was two strange men staring at Rory I would be just as upset. So that's okay then. I'm all politically correct."

"That depends on whether you are upset because they are staring at Rory or because they are not staring at you. Because if it was two strange men staring at you, you would be very happy."

"Now you sound like my mother."

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XLH Reginald S.-S., XLH Al J., XLH Bill R., XLH Anthony B and XLH Timothy M. filed into the meeting room and took seats near the back of the small auditorium.

"So," Reg said softly, "You're quite certain Faith's all right?"

"Yeah," Al answered. "We've been, you know, talking a bit, maybe slowing down a little, staying in one place a little longer… Maybe a family…. Just talk. Nothing urgent. She's pretty convinced she'd be a terrible mother. I'm working on her a little."

"Well, you two have more than earned some time off, and of course, if there's anything I can do…"

"I know. You know, it's not like I'm a hundred percent gung ho on the idea myself. It just kinda jumped up and hit us between the eyes there. We'll work it out."

And then a tall, rather athletic man limped onto the small stage and the seventh annual meeting of the Xander L. Harris Doppelganger Society was underway.

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