To the Power Born: A Tale of the Slayers

Part 32: Is It Paranoia When They're Really Out to Get You…?

"Well, I already pretty much said that the rest of my cure was Prozac, here," Oz said, stroking his pseudo dragon friend's neck. "So… I owe you, Buffy."

"You owe me for a pseudo dragon liking you enough to say, 'hey, let's hang out for life, what do you say?' How's that work, Oz?" Buffy looked both skeptical and amused.

"Pretty simple, really," Oz said. "I read Chosen to Stand— awesome book, Rose— so I know how the pseudo dragons got here. So… I thank you."

"Still not following what I'm tentatively going to refer to as your logic, Oz," Buffy said. She stroked Pointy, her own pseudo dragon friend, who'd left her eggs long enough to grab a bite to eat and meet the new folks, and said, "Of course, that's really sort of saying 'just like old times,' now that I think about it."

"Okay, so… I met Prozac here because Glitter's memories and knowledge of the extended Scooby Gang impressed the dragon who ended up fathering her first brood enough that he spread it around when he went back to his world with his wizard friend in November of 2003, and the pseudo dragons he told about this place wanted to see it, to meet people like you guys." Oz grinned. "Now, there are those who would say I should thank Rose, since she impressed Glitter so much that Glitter refused a shot at going home, but no. Not that I'm not grateful for that much, too— but Buffy, if not for you deciding to have Wil activate all the potential Slayers on Earth, Rose would never have had the power, would probably never have been in her high school looking for trouble that day— and none of the rest would have followed. So… thanks."

"And the Oz-man wins by technical knockout," Xander said, grinning. "Just like old times, all right."

"Okay, you win." Buffy chuckled. "You're welcome Oz— but how does it work? I know you had some control, but… Jocelyn said you did a partial change, just your arm, and I saw the half-form— I fought beside the half form."

"Pretty simple, really," Oz said. "Pseudo dragons are telepathic and empathic. So when I start stressing, Prozac knows it before I do, most times, and he knows a bunch of little mental tricks that wizards back on their world of origin use— learned them from his mom, who came from that world. Also the focusing and concentration methods that wizards use for spells. He taught me all these things, and coupled with the herbs and meditations I already had under my belt… well, I got complete control over the wolf in me. Partial changes, half form, a quarter and a three-quarters form, and uh… well the full form, it's looking more like a wolf nowadays. A big wolf, sure, but… yeah, a wolf."

"That's good," Xander said. "I never wanted to say anything, didn't want to hurt your feelings, but the way the wolf form looked before? Not so much like a wolf as sort of like a big gay possum."

"Pretty much, yeah," Oz said after a moment's thought. "Good call.

"Anyway, after I left Sunnydale the second time, I went looking for… well, not answers so much. Kind of thought there really weren't any. I went looking for someplace safe, where people would know how to deal with me without silver bullets. I ended up in Romania for a long time. I found a band of gypsies who were pretty cool, and they sort of… took me in. They knew Miss Calendar's tribe, and got along with them, helped me at least partly because I'd known her. With the aid of this old grandmother who was a witch, I discovered that if I went ahead and locked myself up and just let the wolf out on the night of the full moon, then I could control it totally the rest of the time, even the night before and after. One night, better than three.

"Then in October of oh-eight, the caravan was in Bucharest for a gathering of all the Roma in the country, and I met my first pseudo dragon— Prozac's mother, who'd attached herself to this old gypsy guy. She hatched her kids during the gathering, and I went by, saw them, and kinda got attached to Prozac right away. A week later, he told me that he wanted to be my friend, that I should call him Prozac, because he could help me calm down, and… well, two years later, I owned the wolf— not the other way around.

"In oh-nine, I came back to the States and settled in San Diego for a while. I got back into the music scene, and with not having to take the nights of full moons off, it worked better than before. Then in twenty-eleven, I met Angela at a gig, in twenty-thirteen I followed her back to Chicago, in twenty-fourteen we were married, and eighteen months later, Angela had Jenny.

"I hooked up with Wolfman in Spats the next year— as soon as I saw the name, I had to try out for the band, you know?— and we're going places now. Next month we're opening for Girls' Night Out up in Chi, and their manager is gonna see how we do on stage. Could be a contract in there.

"Doesn't matter, though. I got Angela and Jenny. That's enough. But… I gotta say, it's good to see you guys again. Kinda hope we won't lose touch again. It's like the old days. The good ones, I mean, not the high-school-on-a-Hellmouth-mayor-becomes-a-demon days. Those I can do without."

"You know, Oz," Willow said sitting up a little and looking at him, "you're maybe the only person alive who could condense eighteen years of not seeing you into five minutes of talking."

"It's a knack," Oz said easily. "Haven't lost it."

"But that's the most I've heard him say in front of more than just me since the night he met my parents, I think," Angela said. "At least, if we don't count reading to Jenny."

"I can believe it," Willow said. "Does he still like to stay up all night talking, sometimes?"

"Oh, yeah," Angela said, grinning at Willow— and relaxing the last little bit. "Not so often since Jenny came along, but sometimes."

"See?" Willow said, looking back and forth between Buffy and Xander. "I told you he'd talk that much! Now I've got proof!"

"Hard to believe," Xander said. "I wasn't really sure Oz could talk for more than three sentences without reverting to monosyllables. Unless it was about music, then I think I heard him say six sentences, once."

We all chuckled, then Oz said, "So… I know a lot of what's happened with you guys, since you're all out in the open nowadays, and with Rose's book, but… Buffy said you had problems? Anything I can help with?"

"I don't think so," Buffy said with a sigh. "You never met any of our current problems but Drusilla, and she's the least threatening of the lot."

"Was she… no, wait." Oz shook his head. "Sorry— it's been sort of crazy, you know?

"Buffy, Xander, Joyce… I'm sorry about Alex. I didn't hear about it until after the funeral was over, or I'd have come. All of us in the band and our families were camping up in the wilds of northern Wisconsin, and it was over by the time I got back."

"Thanks, Oz," Xander said, and Buffy echoed him while Joyce just moved closer to her mom. "It's okay— we had a lot of support, thank god."

"Still sucks," Oz said. "But… was that Drusilla?"

"No, but she's working with the bastard that did it— and with Amy Madison's mom, besides," Xander said, his voice hard and flat. "So she's got a target painted on her, so far as we're concerned."

From there, we all talked until after midnight, explaining to Ian, Oz and Angela what had been happening pretty thoroughly. The Osbournes put the baby in Giles and Kelly's room when she dozed off, and we just sat and talked, explained things, and those of us who didn't know him got to know Oz a little, and we all got to know Angela. About one, Xander drove them to their motel, which wasn't far— just a couple of miles or so from Scooby Mansion— and we all went to our various homes and beds after Buffy and Willow extracted promises from Oz and Angela that they'd come back Sunday.

I showed Ian to the last unoccupied bedroom in my house, the one on the ground floor, got him settled in, hugged him good night, and went to bed with Colin (after we both kissed the HECK out of Piper)— then to sleep maybe an hour later. (Hey, we were tired!)

Sunday was, of course, a day off. Mostly. I mean, I still did some forms and kata and Capoeira— I don't feel right if I don't. But not much past that but fun stuff.

Giles drove Ian over to Peoria to get his things Sunday after lunch, and on the way back, they stopped and got him a lot of new pairs of pants. With the Power fleshing out and toning up his legs, what he had just didn't fit, so they got him new stuff. While they were gone, I sat and listened to Vi tell Buffy about how Piper had done in the demon fight, and found myself grinning.

Buffy had been worried that Piper's superhero "don't kill" reflex would get in the way of her doing what had to be done with almost all demons, but that hadn't happened. Piper had seen one of the crystal demons tear a guy's arm off and throw him aside, and she'd gone after that monster with every intention of destroying it— and done the job, killed it and another of the same kind by executing a flying, two-footed kick that slammed the first into the second hard enough to shatter both. After that, she'd more than pulled her weight, and Vi said she'd take Piper on a team any time.

Excellent.

About the time Giles and Ian got back, Oz, Angela and Jenny showed up, and the day got pleasantly lazy all over again. Lots of talking, goofing around, all sorts of stuff— and a little bit of almost-work on Piper's part.

I'd been watching Ian a little, because something about how he moved bugged me some. Piper had also been watching him, and she and I spoke about it when we noticed each other noticing. She was bugged, too. Not scary-bugged, just that's-not-quite-right bugged. After a while, Piper got it, and I actually popped myself in the head once when she told me what it was.

Ian wasn't doing a lot of sitting down, you know? (Who could blame the kid, after years in a wheelchair!?) He stood, or paced, or leaned against a wall a lot— I don't think he sat that whole afternoon, except when it would have been rude to stand.

Anyway, all his movements involving his legs came across as careful, tentative, unsure, even uneasy. When Piper figured out why, the answer seemed so obvious that I think I deserved the smack in the head I gave myself. We went and found Dad as soon after that as we could do so without making a thing of it.

"Dad, who's going to be doing most of the working with Ian?" I asked when we found him in the kitchen making barbecue sauce.

"Giles and Buffy, mostly, I think," Dad said, his eyes on the measuring spoon that he was pouring honey into. "We discussed it in brief this morning, and Giles has the most knowledge of this sort of thing. For the physical, we're going to put him with Buffy because she's so damned good at physical training, and he'll probably learn a lot from her. Why do you ask, honey-girl?"

"Whitey, have you watched him at all today?" Piper asked. Dad raised an eyebrow at her, and Piper rolled her eyes and said, "No, Whitey, I'm not attracted to him. He's nice looking, but… no. I like him a lot, but he's not my style, he… well he reminds me too much of the old me, really.

"But Whitey, you know how you and Chantelle say I had a great sense of kinesics? My own and other peoples'?"

"Yes, you do have, you and Jocelyn both," Daddy said. He grinned, offered her the honey spoon to lick and let me lick it instead when she shook her head, and said, "I think yours is from your super-agility, probably, Piper. Jocelyn's is something she developed from her started-young martial arts habit, but yours is just as strong, maybe stronger, Piper."

"Maybe," Piper said. "Anyway, I think you may need to work with Ian, Whitey, like you did with… um, I read it in Rose's book, hang on…. Ah, right! With Chelsea Yoder, way back when, when she was just recovered from the myasthenia gravis, and needed so much help learning to move."

Daddy looked at Piper blankly for a moment— then, as I had, he smacked himself in the head as he got it. "It's been ten years since he walked much! He needs to relearn that, and running and— how did I miss that?"

"Same way we all did?" I suggested. I tapped my own forehead, said, "Five minutes ago, I smacked this when Piper told me. Don't feel too bad, no one else got it either."

"Yeah, okay," Daddy said. He went over and hugged Piper (who accepted it and returned it casually, YAY!). "I'm glad you saw it, O Princess of Arachnids— might have embarrassed him to be thrown into things and not be able to keep up. I'll talk to Giles, plan on working with Ian some before we toss him into the combat training."

"Maybe you and Uncle Ballard both?" I suggested as he let go of Piper and turned to his sauce again. "You did a kickass job with Chelsea, and with helping Bree Dayton, come to that, but Uncle Ballard's the most aware-of-his-body guy around, what with the Capoeira fixation and such. You get Ian through the basics, the walking, running, changing direction and such, then let Uncle Ballard take over the jumping, run-and-jump, move-legs-in-funny-ways part?"

"Another good idea," Daddy said. He hugged me, kissed my cheek, squeezed once more, and said, "You two are good. Can't wait to see what happens when you get fully trained, Piper, and Jocelyn gets her confidence back. You should both train other girls."

"Sounds fun," I admitted. "But… not gonna hurry that. I won't try it until I'm back at a hundred percent. Now, I'm gonna have to let you, Mom, Buffy, Giles, Diane and maybe especially Xander judge that, because I can't— but when all of you say I'm back to where I was and improving again? Yeah, I'll help with the training. I expect I'll love it."

" 'Especially Xander,' huh?" Daddy said, looking at me curiously. Piper, too, looked a little puzzled. "Any particular reason for that, Jocelyn?"

"He sees, Daddy," I said. "He sees so much that the First Evil tried to blind him, remember? And he's not so attached to me as you and Mom are— oh, he loves me, I know that, but I'm not his kid, so he won't be tempted to hedge either way. When Xander says I'm back to a hundred percent and rising, I'll know it's true, not wishful thinking on my part, or my parents' parts. Then I'll be ready to be Trainer Girl, instead of In-Training Lass."

For a long moment, Daddy just looked at me and smiled— a good smile, the I'm-proud-of-you smile. Then he hugged me again and said, "It's amazing to me that you could have your head so right about so many things, and still be letting this one little bit of silliness eat at you, Jocelyn Penobscot."

"You can say that again," Piper muttered. Dad looked at her and raised an eyebrow, and Piper blushed, but added, "Hey, I can see it. I've even given her grief for it, in moderate amounts."

"See?" Daddy pretended to glare at me, which is hard to do while you're grinning, and said, "Piper sees it, and she's almost the newest member of the family. You're nuts, dear daughter— but you're getting better.

"Okay, see if you can find the apple cider vinegar, honey-girl, I know we've got some, but somebody moved it, and I need it for the barbecue sauce."

I found it for him (under the sink with the cleaning stuff, weird), then Piper and I sat and talked with him while he made his sauce (wonderful stuff!), then went outside with him again to hang out and talk while he did the cooking. We had dinner outside, then moved inside because the bugs had started getting bad— August in Illinois, lots of bugs, go figure.

We had a nice night. Watched a movie, all of us, then sat around and listened to the Sunnydale Five and Oz play "remember when"— both fun and educational. I mean, who knew that Willow had started to go out one Halloween as a hooker? Who'd have believed it!?

Oz, Angela and their little girl left about eleven, and I let myself be taken to bed by Colin, again after some time spent making out with Piper.

Monday, back into training— and Daddy spent the morning with Ian, just… walking, talking, jogging, talking more, running, racing, talking still more, then going back to the walking. In the hour before lunch, Daddy started Ian on the basics of yoga, knowing that the awareness of his body given him by the physical aspects of yoga would help. By afternoon, when Ian went off with Giles, Aunt Dawn and Aunt Sh'rin to see if they could figure out what sort of things he'd be able to do with the power given him by Hope, I could see a difference in how Ian moved. Not a total recovery of confidence, but an improvement, you know? That made me feel good, helpful— and gave me more reason to smile at Piper.

After supper that night— again, eaten outside— we all sat outside in clumps, talking, playing cards, goofing off for a while. The bugs were bad again, this time a bunch of flies instead of the mosquitoes we'd had the night before. We ignored them for the most part, just waved them off when they got close.

Michael Killian, Mark II, brought out Shamrock and her babies when his pseudo dragon friend asked it, and the babies made themselves a total hit with the newbie Slayers and with Ian— big surprise, right?

About the time we were getting ready to go in because it started getting dark, Ian, who'd been sitting and talking to Joyce Harris, Riley Giles and my brother Stephen while petting any dragon of any age who got close to him, put his chin down on the picnic table the kids were sitting at, and met the eyes of Shamrock's orange-black baby boy while rubbing the little one's head. After a moment, Ian sort of sat up with a jerk— then reached down and stroked the little guy's head very carefully, not like the pseudo dragon would be hurt, but like he wanted to find exactly the right place— and you could tell from the blissed-out look on the little dragon's face and the way his wings fluttered without thought that Ian had gotten it right.

"Oh, man," Ian said, his voice wondering. "You can't even fly yet. Are you really sure?"

In answer, the little dragon, not able to fly, as Ian had noted, climbed up Ian's arm, little claws never breaking the skin, sat on his shoulder, and pressed against Ian's neck and cheek like a cat, then settled down on Ian's shoulder and looked at him expectantly.

"Okay then," Ian said, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. "Uh, everyone? This little guy says his name is Anvil, and that he's going to stay with me."

We laughed and clapped and even cheered some, and Aunt Rose and Glitter went over to that table, sat down next to them, and both looked at boy and baby pseudo dragon with a mix of amusement and surprise.

"You know, Ian, you just set a record," Aunt Rose said, giving him a grin even as Glitter walked across the table to sit in front of him and nod emphatically.

"I did?" Ian said. "What sort of record?"

"Anvil is only two days old," Aunt Rose said, reaching over to stroke the baby's head. "And he's already decided that you're his human? That's the youngest I've ever seen, or Glitter's even heard of. Congratulations, sir!"

"Wow, really?" Ian said, his face brightening even further. "That's cool, thanks for telling me."

"No problem," Aunt Rose said. She grinned and said, "Glitter thinks it's probably got a lot to do with the same things that caused one of the Powers choose you to act as their Champion— and I can't help but agree."

"Uh, thanks," Ian said— and blushed.

Aunt Rose chuckled, told him he was welcome, then hugged him and went back to her family's table, where the adults were playing their last hand of poker for the night.

When we all started going to our separate houses, I noticed that Joyce stopped Ian as he started to move off, and gave him a long, lingering hug. Ah-ha! And good deal, at least in my eyes.

I saw Xander and Buffy looking at them, both a little surprised, but neither at all disapproving, and saw on both of their faces the same question; was this something romantic on Joyce's part, or was she trying to fill the void in her left by Alex's death with Ian in a brotherly role?

My money was on romantic. Maybe it's that whole kinesic awareness thing, but it sure looked romantic to me, at least on her part. Ian… well, I think he was too surprised to think of it that way right then, but he wore a faintly speculative look as we all went inside our house.

We all watched the newly-released Booster Gold movie on DVD, then started off for bed, thought it took some of us a while to get there….

Piper, Colin and I stood on the second floor landing and made out for… a good twenty minutes. The word "wow" cannot touch the level of yum that was.

When we went down to breakfast in the morning, Piper walked with us, between Colin and I, and didn't blush at all when we went into the kitchen and people called their greetings to us.

After breakfast, my sister Belinda came over and hugged me herself, then said in my ear, "You picked the right people, Jocelyn. You guys will be so happy together it's like a story— but I'm not sure you're done yet. I think… I keep seeing you three together and looking for the fourth one, like some part of me knows there ought to be four of you." She cocked her head and looked thoughtful, then added, "For now, at least."

"Good grief," I said, staring at her. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I am," Belle said. She looked thoughtful, then said, "I am serious— and I think I'm right, but it's not like… it's not like the Big Visions, you know? Just… sort of a feeling. And I…." Belinda's pupils contracted to pinpricks for just a moment, then snapped back to normal— and she said, " 'The fourth will be like Colin and Piper, but not like them?' What the heck does that mean?"

I blinked and stared at my psychic little sister. "How am I supposed to know, sis? You're Vision Girl, I'm just a Slayer. You brains, me brawn!"

Belinda giggled, then looked more serious and said, "I really hope it didn't mean hurt like he was, or confused like Piper… still is just a little, maybe. I know he's lots better, getting better still, and Piper's almost totally well, but I don't think anyone should have to hurt that much, or be that mixed-up." I hugged her fiercely, and she hugged back, knew I was thanking her for that sentiment, then continued, "So… maybe another super hero, but with…I don't know no actual powers, like Batman? Or… maybe just someone else not from this Earth?"

"Yow," I said, and looked at her. "Thanks for breaking my brain, sis."

"No problem," Belle said, and kissed my cheek. She stood up, took a single step back and said with a big grin, "It's not like breaking your brain requires actual work, you know!"

She fled from me, got behind Daddy and said, "She's gonna tickle me, Daddy, don't let her!"

"No tickling before class, you'll be late," Daddy said. "Wait until after supper."

"Daddy!" Belinda cried.

"Never let it be said that your father is foolish enough to get in the middle of a fight between two females," Dad said with a smirk. "I'm not that crazy, girls."

I went to class and trained with the others, worked as Buffy's and Aunt Rose's sparring partner (and demonstration dummy), while Daddy and Uncle Ballard worked with Ian some, and several times, I caught Joyce looking their way, her eyes on Ian. Twice, I caught Buffy looking at her as she looked at Ian, and the expression on Buffy's face seemed to be a mixture of "aw, that's cute," and "dammit, why does she have to grow up this fast?" Still, I felt pretty sure that if Joyce and Ian became an item, Buffy wouldn't try to squelch it, or anything.

After lunch, Xander looked around and said, "I need volunteers for a work party, folks— preferably from the already-trained, I don't want you trainees missing any training."

"What're we volunteering for?" Vi Chandler asked a little warily. "If you want volunteers to taste some food concoction that involves more than one kind of pepper, or any variety of pepper that comprises more than three percent of food volume, you can count me out."

"No, nothing like that, ya big sissy," Xander said. "Vincent didn't go all wimpy over my Chicken Plutonium."

"Vincent has a stronger gastro-intestinal system than me," Vi said. She looked thoughtful, then said, "Probably from all those years of army food."

"Well, relax," Xander said, chuckling over the army food comment. "No food involved. It's just that Chez Harris is officially finished, and I figure we'll need help getting our furniture and stuff out of the dorm at Giles's place and over there."

Whooping with delight, Buffy ran to kiss her husband, and Joyce to hug her dad, who bore up stoically under the affectionate assault from the two most important women in his life.

Giles waived the afternoon classes for everyone over Xander's protests, and the bunch of us got Xander, Buffy and Joyce's stuff moved in fast, in less than two hours. (C'mon, think about it— a bunch of super-strong women, a couple of super-strong guys [Vincent and Colin], and Willow's telekinesis, all under the direction of Giles, who is a natural foreman-type? Two full hours would have been being lazy.)

Like my Daddy and the man who'd originally built Scooby Mansion, Xander had paid extra to have the builders work around the trees on the property when he had the house built, so what you got was a tree-surrounded stone-construction place as big as ours, and with just as many bedrooms, and studded with balconies and fireplaces. When Giles found out that Xander's house had ten bedrooms, he asked why Xander had been so extravagant.

"Oh, come on, Giles," Xander said. "We adopt Slayers without families, time-traveling witches, dimension-tossed super heroes, orphaned Champions of the Powers and pseudo dragons with the frequency that your average college kid eats at McDonald's. Then add frequent guests, and it starts to get kind of nuts. We need places to put these folks, right? So… ten bedrooms. We'll use two, have lots of rooms."

Giles stared at Xander for a long moment, then laughed and said, "Yes, all right— I certainly cannot fault your reasoning, Xander. Well done."

They had a house-warming party, of course, which was a lot of fun. We all stayed up too late, and had plenty of fun, which was nice, since school started the following Monday. All the fun we could pack into that last week of slightly-more-freedom was way welcome.

The next morning, I woke up first— it was my turn to help cook breakfast— got out of bed carefully, and went downstairs, where I found Ian sitting in the living room with Anvil on his shoulder— and Joyce snuggled up against his side, her arms around him, Leia, her pseudo dragon, half on her lap, half on Ian's. The two of them were talking quietly, and I managed to slip past them without them noticing, and went to the kitchen to join Xander, who was the other breakfast cook that morning.

"Morning, Jocelyn," Xander said, and gave me a hug. "How are you today?"

"Pretty okay," I said. "Little sleepy, we were up too late, but a glass of apple juice and I'll be fine. What are we fixing today?"

Xander pressed a couple of buttons on the keyboard of the laptop that sat on the kitchen counter and said, "I feel ambitious— must be the effects of living in my house, you know?— so how about omelets? I think we have everything for everyone's tastes."

"Okay," I said, and gulped some juice before finding a couple of cutting boards and starting to get ingredients out of the fridge. "And maybe a hash brown casserole on the side?"

"Works for me," Xander said. He scrolled through the database of omelet preferences for a moment (that's why the laptop was there— saved time by letting us database things like condiment preferences, omelet preferences, and how people wanted their beef cooked). "Hmm. Okay, no entry for Ian yet. You want to go ask him what he likes in an omelet? If I go, it'll have them both thinking I'm snooping, don't want that."

I grinned, hugged Xander, told him he was nifty, and went to ask. Ian and Joyce hadn't moved, but that might have been because Joyce had fallen asleep against his side. Ian sat there looking at her, smiling this little "holy god, I'm so lucky" smile, and idly stroking Leia and Anvil.

"Hey," I said softly. "We're doing omelets for breakfast, Ian— what do you want in yours?"

Ian looked up at me, saw that I didn't think the way he sat holding Joyce at all odd, and said quietly, "Um, sausage, onion and the sharpest cheddar you've got? And if you've got them, English muffins instead of toast."

"Good across the boards," I said. I gave him a wicked grin, and asked, "Have you kissed her, yet?"

"Uh, no," Ian said, blushing the color of a ripe plum. "I mean— I want to, but I know better than to rush anything. Her brother… just a few weeks ago, that. And she's… worth not hurrying things."

"Definitely," I agreed. Then I widened my grin and said, "And that her mother could kick your ass nine ways from Sunday if you hurt her, that doesn't enter the equation, right?"

"Just a tiny bit, maybe," Ian admitted, still blushing, but smiling. "But mostly… I just don't want to rush her. Or me. Wheelchairs do not make a good incentive for romance, you know? So this is all sort of new, and I won't hurry me, either."

"A sixteen year-old male with a brain," I said. I shook my head in mock surprise and said, "I realize that you're special, or the Power Hope wouldn't have made you its Champion, Ian, but still… will wonders never cease?"

"I hope not," Ian said, absolutely deadpan— and I left the room with my hands clapped over my mouth to prevent a snort of laughter from waking Joyce.

Xander looked at me curiously as I came into the kitchen laughing, and I said, "Ian belongs with us for sure, Xander— he puns!"

He grinned, said, "Cool— more insanity for Giles," and we set about the cooking chores.

That Wednesday passed without serious event, but I should note that the flies stayed bad, and a lot of them had gotten into each house. They didn't bug people much, but tended to stay high on the walls and ceilings, so we really paid almost no attention to them.

Thursday morning, we all walked over to Giles's to have breakfast there— except for Anvil, who'd started flying that morning, and wasn't willing to stop just yet. He flew most of the way, only coming back to Ian's shoulder as we got to the house, having gotten tired— he wasn't used to the exertion yet, not really.

As Ian worked at cleaning up the breakfast dishes— it was his turn, along with Uncle Ballard, that morning— Anvil again started flying around, delighting in his newfound freedom in the air. It wasn't quite time to start training yet, so the rest of us sat and watched and chuckled as Anvil zipped and zoomed around the kitchen, chasing a fly that had buzzed near Ian and caught the baby pseudo dragon's attention.

Anvil really wasn't graceful enough in the air to have a lot of hope of catching a fly yet, but watching him try was better than an hour of stand-up from the comedian of your choice— we all got almost weak with laughter watching that still-clumsy-in-the-air baby pseudo dragon chase that fly with the dogged determination of a jet pilot going after an enemy plane. Oh, so funny!

Right up until the fly zigged when it should have zagged, and Anvil snapped it out of the air— then squealed in pain, spasmed in mid-air, sent a mental *OW!* that we all felt-heard, and tumbled towards the ground.

Daddy was close, and he lunged forward, got cupped hands under the baby dragon, caught him gently, and lifted him to the table even as Ian lurched that way, his face white.

"What the hell was that?" Aunt Rose asked, moving that way, Glitter flying ahead of her.

"Anvil!?" Ian cried. "Anvil, are you okay!?"

The dragon peeped in distress, but stood up on the table. He was shaking, trembling almost violently, but he got up on his feet and managed to stay that way. Ian picked him up carefully, cradled him close, and some color started to come back into his face.

"You scared me, Anvil," Ian said, looking at his newest and best friend. "What happened?"

Still trembling, the little dragon locked eyes with Ian, and a moment later, Ian said, "Anvil says it stung him— but flies don't have stingers, and that was a fly, not a bee. What the heck?"

Mi Kyong moved that way suddenly, reached out and stroked Anvil, let her fingers rest on him lightly, and said, "Stung you, little wing? But… that's not right. That dream…."

All of us but Ian knew about Mi Kyong's Slayer dream, so only he looked puzzled as the rest of us froze and held our breath, waiting to see if whatever was tickling Mi Kyong's brain would come out. After a long moment, she looked sideways at Fog, her own pseudo dragon friend who sat on her shoulder, and I saw that they were communicating silently. After a moment, Fog nuzzled Anvil gently, and the little guy met her eyes for a moment. Fog looked at Mi Kyong and nodded.

"No, it's not coming," Mi Kyong said with a sigh. "I think it was a false alarm. The— the dragon in my dream couldn't have been Anvil, he's prettier than it was."

Even as Mi Kyong said, that, though, Ripley said in my mind, *Mi Kyong says that Anvil felt the sting from the bug all over, not just in mouth. She thinks was electricity, that flies are tiny machines and we should not talk about it yet, or say secret things until we know how to make them go away.*

"Well, Anvil's a cutie," I said aloud, to fill the silence as everyone else absorbed what Mi Kyong had said. "Not quite as cute as Ripley, but I'm prejudiced, I admit it."

People broke up slowly, and I didn't think it an accident when Giles asked Willow to join him in running some errands. As they left, my aunts Rose, Sh'rin and Dawn (and their pseudo dragons) asked Ian and Anvil to come with them, so they could check the baby out, being healers and the resident expert on pseudo dragons.

(I know it was necessary, but I still felt bad that, once they'd gotten into a basement room and Aunt Dawn had determined magically that they weren't under any sort of surveillance, they had to induce vomiting in poor Anvil to get the body of that fly out of his tummy— he'd swallowed reflexively when it "stung" him.)

Twenty minutes later, the pseudo dragons relayed a message from Aunt Rose; it hadn't been a fly, but, as Mi Kyong's dream had shown her, a tiny robot version of a fly, made to spy on us. It hadn't "stung" Anvil, he'd crushed it's ultra-tiny power supply and gotten a shock.

I ran through a mental checklist of the names I'd like to call Warren Mears, robotic bastard-at-large, to his face while I worked out that morning. I still hadn't stopped when we broke for lunch, and the least-vulgar thing I remember thinking was "bastard son of a serial killer and a Mr. Coffee."

When Giles and Willow got back, Wil, Aunt Dawn and Aunt Sh'rin took off for the afternoon, claiming that they needed a day of tanning and swimming, and I guess they really did go swimming at the pool in Fairview Park— but they also worked out between them a spell that would let them identify any machine made by the intelligence that had made that fly-bot, and prevent it from coming close to us on pain of destruction. They came home and started casting it that night after supper, and I kid you not; that was the longest, most complicated, most draining spell I've ever seen cast by anyone, anywhere, anywhen. Also, the ingredients for it ran somewhere close to a million dollars— Giles paid without a blink, and they were able to have the ingredients delivered before supper time, but still! A freaking pound of gold, all sorts of rare gems (small, but not cheap), some exotic foodstuffs, rare plants and about a tablespoon of the blood of a Champion of the Powers. They asked me to donate that, since I'd been born with the power, and I gave it willingly.

(I mentioned the rare ingredients, but let me mention some of the odd ones. They were sort of logical, but, yeah— odd. They used a kids' game called "Rock 'Em, Sock 'Em Robots," an old, barely functional Apple computer [no loss, it only had a forty gig hard drive and a gig of ram— ancient!], a book called "Coils" by Roger Zelazny and Fred Saberhagen [about a machine intelligence and the one human who can communicate with it and other machines naturally], a pre-paid-minutes cell phone, and a copy of the movie "Terminator." Like I said— sort of logical, but… weird!)

They finally finished at a little before two in the morning. They'd started at about a quarter to seven, so we're talking about three of the most powerful witches in the freaking world taking seven hours to cast a spell!

When it was over, this huge ring of pearly white light burst up and out of their spell circle, expanded out through the walls of Giles's house, covered about a six block radius (damn!)— and those of us watching saw the fly-bots Warren had sent disappear in flashes of light— I counted nine in the living room, and I couldn't see the whole thing. Willow said later that there seemed to be about three hundred of the damned things!

She and Aunt Dawn and Aunt Sh'rin were literally too tired to walk after that spell. Each was drenched in sweat, gasping for air like they'd just run a marathon, and had big bags under their eyes— but they thought it worth it, and I had to agree.

Lydia carried Wil home, with Xander along to open doors for her, Uncle Ballard carried Aunt Dawn upstairs to bed, and Aunt Rose carried Aunt Sh'rin (cute, that!).

Giles didn't seem inclined to go right off to bed, asked Aunt Elaine to wait a few moments, and the rest of the Watcher types as well, so I didn't go either. Colin and Piper stayed with me, and when Xander came back, Giles spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, while I am capable of dealing with a great many threats, I find myself lacking somewhat in one area," Giles said. He sighed, cleaned his glasses, and said, "I am not of a technological bent, as all of you know— as most of you have been teasing me about for a great many years, even.

"Therefore, I am finding it difficult to… to look in the appropriate places, to see things in the appropriate ways, to anticipate a technological threat such as Warren presents. So I must ask each of you for assistance, and Elaine, I would be grateful if you would pass that request to Ballard and Rose, and to Dawn when she wakes tomorrow.

"Each of you has a demonstrated fondness for science fiction entertainment, in various degrees, and Piper has a demonstrated interest in and talent for science— so I would ask each of you to be as aware as possible of the things I might be missing. Should you think of something that I might not see, please, tell me— immediately, if necessary, and that includes waking me in the middle of the night— but as soon as possible, regardless.

"I am confident that, once a threat has been identified, I will be able to think of it in terms that I understand— much as I understood the threat that Colin faced just before he was brought to our universe— but you may have to call such a thing to my attention."

"Makes sense," Xander said, nodding. "I mean— you're no luddite, quite, but you aren't exactly Joe Technophile, either."

"Admitting a weakness proves you're smarter than I thought, even," Kelly said, and kissed him.

"Um, one thing, Giles?" Aunt Elaine said. "One thing you could do tomorrow?"

"And that would be?" Giles said, actually looking pleased that Aunt Elaine had already thought of something.

"Pull Brian Keller out of Japan, assign him here until this is over," Aunt Elaine said. She smiled and said, "Brian's not just a science fiction fan, he's a scientist and a total technophile. He may see things we sci-fi geeks would miss, or even Piper, since he's got the benefit of a full education, and she hasn't, yet."

"An excellent idea, thank you," Giles said. He stood, slowly and wearily. "And on that note, one and all, I thank you— and bid you good night."

We all went off to bed, and slept well, knowing that somewhere, Warren Mears had to be about frothing at the mouth in piss-off.