Chapter 56: Time-Out

Buffy woke to find Nick sleeping with her. Nick was still not thrilled at the prospect of fatherhood. But he had debated with himself what Antonio would want and decided at least for his father he would try and produce an heir. So, he and Buffy slept together after getting back from the hunt.

"Morning, Buffy," Nick said. "Enjoy yourself?"

"This was more for you than me," Buffy said. "But yes, I enjoyed myself last night. What time is it?"

"Almost one," Nick said. "Everyone except Clay and Dawn went out. I think both Clay and Jeremy thought it best to let Dawn sleep in. When Jeremy peeked in here and saw us together. Well let's just say as he closed the door he was smiling. A rare thing to see from him."

"I know," Buffy said. "If I do wind up pregnant how are we going work this?"

Nick shrugged. "We'll figure something out. At the rate Dawn's pregnancy is going we have a few months at least to work out the details."

When Jeremy got back, he checked Dawn over and declared she needed more rest. Clay's arm was the bigger concern. It was showing signs of infection, despite Jeremy's thorough cleaning the day before. Being scratched by a rotting corpse isn't exactly sanitary.

Once he cleaned the wound, dosed Clay with antibiotics and re-bandaged him, Jeremy had to leave for his meeting with Hull.

"Is there anything we can do here?" Buffy asked from the door as he put away his medical supplies. "Phone calls to make? New questions to research?"

"I believe we've exhausted all those avenues. Dawn, you just take it easy and rest for tonight."

"What's tonight?" Dawn asked, she could tell by Jeremy's expression that he didn't know.

"Well," he said finally. "Jaime did suggest a séance—"

"Great. With whom?"

"She wants to attempt to contact the people from Cabbagetown who went through that portal, to make sure they're still there and are all right."

"Oh. I guess that would be something…" Dawn said as she looked at Buffy.

"Yeah," Clay said, pitching their muffin wrappers into the trash across the room. "A waste of time."

"I think her real goal is to see whether there's anyone else in there," Jeremy said.

"Now that's a good idea," Buffy said.

Jeremy looked at Buffy. "Asking Jaime to conduct a difficult séance so she can make the acquaintance of a notorious serial killer?"

Dawn crossed the room and grabbed her half-finished orange juice from Clay before he dumped it.

"But it would tell us how true Matthew Hull's story is."

"Perhaps, but I'm hoping to get a better sense of that this afternoon."

For lunch, Buffy, Nick, Clay and Dawn met up with Jaime and walked over to the mall. Just through the doors was a newsstand. The headline on one paper caught my eye: KILLER CHOLERA? RAM-PAGING RATS?

"Killer?" Dawn said, veering toward the papers. "Has it killed—?"

"No," Clay said, snagging my arm. "Someone in a nursing home died yesterday, but the other papers say it wasn't related."

"What about the rampaging rats? Have they—?" Buffy said with a shiver as Nick held her.

"Attacked someone and torn them to shreds?" Clay gave Buffy a look. "Buffy, haven't I told you, you watch too many horror movies. But if you want to go home…"

Buffy shook her head. "I've seen a lot of horror but they weren't in movies. Or have you forgotten what I am? Especially since you don't refer to me anymore by that title."

"I've not forgotten, Buffy," Clay said.

They headed down to the food court. The mall was so quiet they could hear Jaime's heels clicking as they walked down the corridor.

They bought lunch at the little market where Jeremy had bought Dawn and Buffy breakfast earlier. Dawn suggested they take it outside to Trinity Square, but Clay headed for a forlorn patch of empty tables. "What's that?" she said, seeing Clay pick up a leaflet from a table.

When he didn't answer, Dawn and Buffy grabbed one from another table. On the poorly printed leaflet, someone had listed the recent problems plaguing the city, and likened them to the signs of the Apocalypse, entreating the reader to make his peace with God, because the end was near.

Buffy and Dawn rolled their eyes as they looked at each other. "Apocalypse these people has never witnessed an apocalypse," Dawn said. "Buffy has thwarted at least seven, herself. What we're dealing with now probably rates a 1 or maybe a 2 because of the disease angle."

Clay waved them to the mall corridor, apparently having changed his mind about eating indoors. They walked down the other side of the mall, cruelly raising the hopes of a fresh batch of bored sales clerks. As they passed one kiosk, Dawn noticed a hastily hand-drawn sign and nudged Buffy who shook her head.

"Home filtration systems," Dawn read. "Guaranteed to kill cholera, E. coli and all other waterborne pests. Oh, and they have animal repellent spray for rats. Figures. Start the rumor there is an apocalypse, someone else cashes in."

"You should ask for your share," Jaime said.

"No kidding," Dawn said. "You know what I really feel like doing, though? Climbing to the top of the CN Tower, busting out a window and shouting 'I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I apologize unreservedly.'"

Buffy laughed. "And you hereby undertake not to repeat any such apocalyptic actions at any time in the future?"

"Wasn't your fault," Clay said. "Buffy squashed the mosquito."

"It was a joke, Clay," Buffy said. "Remember, Dawn was responsible in a roundabout way for her first apocalypse."

"I know, Buffy," Clay said. He remembered the stories that Dawn had told him of her first trip to the past. How it had been her blood that had opened the portal. "Now let's move. We're starting to attract attention."

"Let's sit over there in the shade," Jaime said. "By the waterfall."

To call the water flowing into the concrete pond to their right a "waterfall" was being generous. It was a spout coming out of a wall, with a constant high-pressurized rush of water. They sat on a bench overlooking a vast empty patch of weeds and dead grass, a solitary squirrel cavorting through it.

"What the hell is that?" Clay said.

Dawn, Buffy and Nick squinted at the sign, which showed barefooted people happily wending their way through a large maze of green grass.

"A labyrinth," Buffy said. "Looks like they forgot to water it. And weed it. And…pretty much do anything at all with it."

"Where's the labyrinth part?"

"See those dark paths, where the grass is browner than the rest?" Dawn said.

Clay shook his head. "And I thought our yard maintenance was bad."

"That squirrel's having a blast, though," Jaime said, laughing through her veggie wrap. She chewed, then swallowed and said, "So about tonight…I talked to Jeremy about a séance—"

Dawn's cell phone rang.

"Jeremy and Savannah?" Clay asked as Dawn checked the call display.

"Anita Barrington," Dawn said.

He snorted. "Probably got another story for us. Tell her—"

Dawn motioned him to silence as she answered.

Yes, Anita had more information for them. When Dawn tried to get her to relate over the phone, though, she insisted it wasn't safe.

"I'll call back from a landline," Dawn said. "Just give me five min—"

"No, dear. You don't understand. This is—I really must see you."

Clay shook his head emphatically.

"Actually, I'm sticking close to the hotel today. Doctor's orders—"

"Then I'll come there. Erin's gone to my sister's. Getting her out of the city during all this seemed wise. I'll close the shop early and head over. Oh, and I can take a look at that letter while I'm there. You still have that, don't you?"

Buffy and Clay frowned and shifted closer to hear better.

Dawn told her she had the letter, and she was welcome to examine it.

"Excellent. Now where are you staying?"

Dawn glanced at Buffy and Clay. "The same hotel we gave you the phone number for."

"Oh? You're still there? Yes, of course you are—"

"No, I'm sorry. Completely forgot. We moved last night. We're at the Marriott over by the Eaton Centre. I'll meet you in the lobby," Dawn said.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

"The letter's right there on the table," Dawn said as she, Clay and Buffy brought Anita into hers and Clay's hotel room. They had left Nick to watch outside just in case. "There are gloves beside it."

Anita headed straight for it. Dawn collapsed onto the bed.

"Tired, Dawnie?" Buffy asked.

"Too hot," Dawn said, and then looked at the nightstand. "Where's the bottled water?"

"Finished it. I'll run down and grab some more."

"No, get juice. Do they have cranberry?" Dawn pushed up from the bed. "Here, I'll go with you."

"Buffy come with us," Dawn thought.

"How about I come with you. I can stop downstairs and see if Nick wants anything," Buffy said. "Anita—"

"I'm fine, dear," she said, head still down as she examined the letter.

Two minutes later, Anita Barrington opened the hotel room door, slipped out and nearly barreled into Clay, planted in the hallway. She spun and saw Buffy and Dawn blocking the other side.

"Oh, you're back," she said. "That was quick. I was just—"

"Leaving…" Dawn waved at the tube in her hand. "With our letter."

A small laugh. "Oh, dear, this doesn't look good, does it? But I wasn't leaving. I was coming down to see you, and it didn't seem safe to leave this in the room."

As she spoke, Clay opened the room door. Buffy waved Anita in. She hesitated; looking across their faces, then went inside.

"Now," she said as the door closed. "About that story I brought—"

"Don't bother unless it's the real one," Clay said.

Buffy grasped the end of the letter tube. Anita clung to it for a second before letting go.

"She's right, though," Dawn said. "We need to be more careful about that. Someone could break in and ransack our room looking for it."

He nodded. "Someone who knew where we were staying."

"Because that person specifically asked for our hotel phone number. Someone who must have figured out what we are, so she knew she needed a potion to cover her scent when she broke in," Dawn said.

"Someone who can cast blur spells, knockback spells, probably cover spells too…which is why we didn't see her in the bathroom," Buffy said.

Anita looked from Clay to Dawn to Buffy. "I don't think I follow. Did someone break in—"

"Earlier, you asked me where we were staying. You knew we had a reason to move last night," Dawn said.

She laughed. "No, dear, I have a very poor memory. I completely forgot that you told me which hotel—"

She lunged for the letter, slamming Buffy with a knockback spell. Dawn dove to cut her off, but her fingers wrapped around the tube as she cast another spell. Her form blurred and, for a second, she seemed to disappear.

"Dawn!" Buffy and Clay yelled as they sprang to their feet.

"Kali, Hera, Kronos, Thonic. Air like nectar thick as onyx. Cassiel by your second star, hold mine victim as in tar," Dawn chanted.

Anita's blurred form tried to get past Dawn's binding spell as Buffy grabbed the tube.

"I wouldn't bother trying to break it. I'm one of the most powerful witches in the world," Dawn said as Anita dropped the blur spell. "Playing games doesn't go over well with us. We take them seriously."

"Tell us the real story behind the letter—the one that has something to do with immortality," Buffy said.

Anita despite Dawn's warning to the contrary tried to break through Dawn's spell. She found that Dawn had been right; she would never have the power to break it. She was trapped till Dawn released her. So, she told them the letter's history, the one she'd known before she'd approached Shanahan to see it.

The story went that a sorcerer had created the portal. He'd been finishing work on an experiment, one that promised a form of immortality. A common enough type of experimentation, but something about this one made other supernaturals think he may have actually hit on a way to do it. Some wanted to steal his research. Some wanted to stop it. So he created the portal to hide, and put the trigger in the paper used to make the From Hell letter.

When Anita was done, Dawn and Buffy told her Hull's version of the tale.

She frowned. "That seems like a blending of the two stories—the half-demon one and the immortality experiment one. Perhaps that campfire tale bears more truth than one would imagine."

The sisters said nothing. After a moment, she continued.

"The demon's boon may be immortality. Or the secret to it. The sorcerer only created the portal—it was the half-demon Jack the Ripper who hid inside."

"And will be unleashed to wreak unholy terror on an unsuspecting world," Clay drawled. "He's doing a half-assed job of it so far."

"Maybe he's just warming up," Buffy said.

Two hours later, Jeremy walked into the room, looked around and sighed.

"So much for resting," he said as he righted a broken floor lamp.

"It wasn't Clay or Dawn," Buffy said. "Anita Barrington stopped by and all hell broke loose."

Another sigh.

"You think I'm kidding?" Buffy said. "Seems Shanahan wasn't the spellcaster who broke into Dawn and Clay's room last night."

They told him what had happened.

"And after all that—plus nearly giving me a concussion last night—she had the gall to ask again if she can speak with Matthew Hull," Dawn finished.

"Probably hoping he knows more than he's saying, which, after speaking to him today, I doubt. But as for the letter, I can't imagine what she hopes to learn from that."

"Our theory? She's hoping to use it as leverage with Shanahan. If the zombies seem to want it back, what better offering to the man she believes may hold the secret to a form of immortality," Buffy said.

"Did you confront her on that?"

Dawn shook her head. "It seemed better not to. Not yet."

"Good. She may still prove useful."

Their lunch having been interrupted, Buffy, Jeremy, Dawn, Clay and Nick ate a delayed one with Jaime, Savannah and Antonio in the hotel restaurant. The restaurant was bright and open, with huge windows and market umbrellas—the feel of eating on a patio without the bugs, heat and smog.

According to Jeremy, Hull had scored about 80 percent when he'd quizzed him on the geography and minor current events of 1888 London—the kind of things it would be hard for a nonresident to answer, but equally hard for a resident to get perfect. Some of things he mentioned asking would have baffled even Buffy and Dawn and they had lived through that time period.

Jeremy had even mentioned that we had a source who might attempt to contact Jack the Ripper through the portal tonight, to see how Hull reacted, but he'd been all for it, and even offered to help, making no attempt to retract or change his story.

The server appeared with our plates before he could continue.

"So," Clay said after the server left. "He seems legit. But besides winning the sympathy vote, can he do anything for us?"

Antonio opened his mouth to answer, but Savannah cut in. "He thinks he can lead us to Shanahan. He says he can feel a pull or something, like Shanahan is trying to control him. He's offered to try following that pull tonight."

Antonio swirled a French fry through his ketchup puddle, gaze down.

"You aren't buying it," Buffy said when she noted Antonio's expression.

"It felt like when a middle manager books a meeting with me," Antonio said, "shows up and swears he can get some big industry name on board for a joint project because his third cousin married the guy's niece. He might have convinced himself he has an in, but all he's really doing is trying to find an in with me, to get the attention of the guy whose name is on the sign outside. Hull might think he feels some connection to Shanahan, and he'll probably try his damnedest to make it work, but what he really wants is some connection to us, to make himself seem useful so we'll help and protect him."

"Parasite," Clay said.

Antonio nodded. "A harsh way of putting it, but yes. Still, can you blame the guy? He's lost and alone in a strange world. All he wants is a little of our time."

Dawn glanced over at Jeremy. "So, are we going to give it to him tonight?"

"Yes, but only because it's a lead, and we don't have many else to follow."

"You do have one more," Jaime said, then looked up from her salad and met his gaze. "Dimensional portal fishing, courtesy of your very underworked necromancer."

After eating, they switched hotels…again. Dealing with Anita Barrington was a complication they really didn't need.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Jaime stopped at the end of the portal road. "This is it?"

"Yeah I know it's not going to be easy." Dawn said.

"Jeremy warned me it was a residential area, but I figured, being downtown, that meant high-rises, walkups, busy roads…" She scanned the empty street. "…people. We're going to be a tad obvious, conducting a séance at dusk, in the middle of the road."

"If it's not going to work—" Buffy said.

"There are two ways we can do this. One, come up with a plausible story to explain why we're hanging out on a sidewalk for an hour or so."

"The other?" Clay said.

"I play me—flaky celeb spiritualist trying to contact the souls of those who disappeared."

"Option A," Clay said.

"I thought you'd say that. Let's get some props then."

They bought an inexpensive camera and a notepad, and Jaime assigned them their roles. Clay would play photographer. Buffy and Dawn would do the note taking. Jaime would be their boss, gathering source material for a proposed television special on recent events.

They'd still attract attention. If it was too much, they'd have to abort.

Clay, Buffy and Dawn wandered up the road, taking notes and pictures. Once Jaime was ready, she called them over and began peeling back the dimensional layers, looking for the lost souls. Less than ten minutes later, she had one: seventy-eight-year-old Irene Ashworth.

Only Jaime could hear Irene, so the conversation was pretty one-sided. After a few minutes of confirming her identity, based on some basic facts they'd gleaned from the newspaper, Jaime was about to let her go.

"Not yet," Clay said. "Gotta be sure."

"Sure, of what?" Jaime said, whispering so Irene wouldn't overhear. "You don't think this could be Jack? But she's a wom—" She shook her head. "Of all people, I should know better. There's no reason Jack the Ripper couldn't be a woman. But she answered the questions right."

Buffy shook her head. "If she had contact with the real Irene Ashworth in that portal, that wouldn't be hard. You have to ask her something only someone from our time could answer, like what the Internet is or a CD."

"CD?" Jaime's voice rose as she laughed. "At her age, we'd be lucky if she knew what a cassette player was." Jaime froze, and then turned. "Oh, y-yes, of course you could hear that."

Pause.

"No, you're not deaf. I didn't mean—"

Pause.

"Well, yes, I'm sure the Internet is great for online brokerages and, yes, you're right."

Strike missing person number one off the list.

"There's another one already," Jaime said. "I wish trolling for ghosts was this easy. Okay, here he comes…Got a male. Midthirties. He's almost here…"

While the description sounded promising for Jack the Ripper, it also matched that of the second missing person, Kyle Belfour, the thirty-six-year-old systems analyst who lived one block over and had vanished while jogging. Initial probing suggested the spirit was Belfour, but Jaime ran into some difficulties with the questioning.

"We just need your name and some basic—"

Pause.

"To confirm your identity—"

Pause.

"Why do we need to confirm it?"

She looked back at Clay, Dawn and Buffy for help. Dawn murmured a suggestion.

"Right," she said. "Because, when we pull you out of there, we need to be sure it really is you."

Pause.

"Who else could it be? Er, well…"

"Just tell him to answer the damned questions," Clay said. "Or we'll leave him in there."

Jaime started to respond, then stopped. "Government conspiracy? Uh, no, this isn't—"

Pause.

"No, it's not part of a military test either."

Pause.

"Well, yes, I suppose sending enemies of the state into a dimensional holding cell wouldn't be such a bad idea, but neither the CIA nor the mil—"

"CSIS," Buffy said.

Jaime looked over her shoulder at Buffy.

"In Canada, it's not the CIA," Buffy. "Remind him that if this was a Canadian intelligence or military operation, it would have to have been dreamed up by CSIS and funded with their military budget."

She did.

After a moment, she said, "Well, yes, I suppose that is kind of funny."

Pause.

"No, no, don't apologize. You've been under a lot of stress. Now, if you could just tell us—"

Pause.

"An American-designed-and-funded experiment? Using hapless Canadian citizens?"

She looked back at Clay, Dawn and Buffy. Clay rolled his eyes. Buffy and Dawn on the other hand knew what the American government was capable of since the Initiative.

They never did get Belfour to admit to his name. It didn't matter. After ten minutes of spouting a conspiracy diatribe on the growing U.S. military power under Bush, sprinkled with references to CIA mind control experiments, The Manchurian Candidate, and even an X-Files nod, they knew the guy was from the twenty-first century. They gave him the same reassurances they'd given Mrs. Ashworth, and then let him slide back to his dimensional holding cell.

By that time, they'd started to attract notice from the neighbors. Dawn and Buffy had fielded a few questions while Jaime had been listening to Belfour, cutting off the onlookers' approach before they got close enough to hear her arguing with herself. After she sent Belfour back and started trolling again, Clay, Dawn and Buffy took their show on the road, taking pictures as Dawn and Buffy played reporter and asked questions of the curious. Ask the right questions, and you can get rid of people pretty fast. Once the first wave had retreated to their homes, the sisters slid over to Jaime.

"Any luck?" Buffy whispered.

"I'm…not sure. I'm picking up one more presence, and I think its male…"

"Could be our boy. Is he playing shy?" Dawn said.

"Seems more confused."

"Not surprising if he's been in there for over a hundred years," Buffy said.

"I'm trying to lure him over. There—He sees me. He's coming this way. Yep, it's a man, maybe late fifties…Here he comes. Showtime."

Lyle Sanderson, sixty-one, claimed to have been walking his dog the evening before when "everything went black." Very suspicious…except that he'd answered all the test questions about the twenty-first century with flying colors. A quick query to the next onlooker who'd popped from her house confirmed that a man named Lyle Sanderson lived just down the road … and that a neighbor had found his dog running free last night.

Jaime continued hunting for another person inside the portal, but finally, she shook her head.

"Empty," she said.

"So, Hull's lying."

"Or Jack the Ripper is somewhere else. But he's not here, and that means he's not getting out."

Dawn and Buffy glanced at the hairline crack in the road, where everything started. "The door going the other way is still open, though, isn't it? More people can go through. Like Lyle Sanderson," Dawn said.

"It's not easy. You have to hit just the right spot, at just the right angle."

"And sometimes at the right time," Dawn said.

"Correct. Sometimes I forget you two are over two hundred years old. Anyways think of how many people have walked across it in the last few days. Only three went through. You could probably stroll over there and dance on it, and nothing would happen." She looked at the crack again. "Though I wouldn't recommend it…"

Clay shook his head and walked toward the sidewalk.

"They won't … remember any of this, right?" Dawn said. "Being in the portal, talking to you …?"

"Nada. Just like that Hull guy. He only remembers going in and coming out, which makes me think that part of his story is true."

"And the rest?" Buffy asked.

She shrugged. "I haven't met the guy, but this business about feeling a 'pull' from the zombie controller?" She shook her head and adjusted her oversized purse. "I told Jeremy I think that's bullshit—if Hull didn't die, then he's not a zombie, so he has no connection to any controller. But, like Jeremy said, it can't hurt to try."

"Time to call and see how it's going."

"Hold on," Dawn said to Jeremy several minutes later over the phone. "There's a police car whipping up Yonge. I can't hear you."

He waited a second, then said, "We're over—"

"Wait, got another one," Buffy said.

"I can hear the sirens. How much trouble did you four cause?"

"Very funny," Buffy said.

"We're near Bay and Gerrard if you want to take a cab over."

"It's close enough to walk. How did it go with Hull?" Dawn asked.

Silence.

"He's standing right there, isn't he?" Buffy said. "Did he lead you on a wild goose chase?"

"So, it would seem."

"We'll be right there," Buffy said.

Dawn called Rita Acosta, a reporter she'd known at Focus Toronto. She now worked at the Sun, and they still traded the occasional lead. Now, though, they needed to check on Lyle Sanderson, make sure he was really missing.

"Sanderson, you said?" Her fingers clicked away on the keyboard. "Got him. No missing person report yet, but it's only been a day and if he lives alone, that's not unusual. A third person missing in the neighborhood would be a helluva story to break. I owe you on this one."

"No problem," Dawn said. "Can you call me back after you check it out? It's yours to break, but Buffy and I might see if we can sell it as a tidbit south of the border. Count the trip as a write-off."

She laughed. "You and your sister are smart girls. How much longer are you two in town for? We should—Oh, hold on, someone's here."

She put Dawn on hold. A minute later, she came back on.

"Gotta run," she said. "Just got a tip. Working girl killed over on Yonge Street."

"Just now? We heard the sirens," Dawn said.

"Well, if you're in the area, hustle your butt on over." She rattled off an address. "It's a knifing, and a nasty one. First guy that found her lost his dinner. Sounds good. Could be my ticket to the crime desk." A pause. "Gawd, that sounded awful, didn't it? Time for a new job." A rustle as she grabbed her purse. "Will I see you there?"

Prostitute? Knifed? Mutilated? With Jack the Ripper not in his portal cell where Hull swore he should be?

"Buffy and I'll be there," Dawn said.

A half block from the crime scene, a cab pulled up beside them. Nick and Savannah got out, then Antonio, while Jeremy paid the driver. Hull was still with them.

"Mr. Hull is concerned," Antonio said. "If this could be our—" A quick look at the crowded sidewalk. "—notorious friend, he doesn't feel it would be safe for him to be alone."

"Tell him to stay clear," Clay said.

Dawn remembered the first murder scene she had been to. It had been when Mr. Bogarty the owner of the Magic Box, before Giles bought it, had been found dead, killed by vampires. Buffy had hustled her out the door. Dawn remembered that she had protested at the time that she had been kicked out. Looking back, she was glad that Buffy had done that.

This time the body had been found in an alleyway near an intersection popular with urban nightlife—the sort that did a brisk trade without the benefit of a business license. It seemed everyone within blocks had heard about it, and they'd all converged on the site. Police had erected barriers across the sidewalk on either side, but that only forced the crowd onto the road.

They split up to cover as much as they could. Buffy, Clay and Dawn stood on the edge of the crowd, trying to eavesdrop, hear what they knew.

"Dawn? Buffy?"

A short woman with dark curly hair waved and strode my way. Then she stopped dead and stared in feigned shock at Dawn's stomach.

"Holy Christ. Where'd that come from?" She gave first Dawn and then Buffy a hug. "Congratulations, Dawn." She reached for Clay's hand. "Rita Acosta, we met a couple of years ago."

Clay shook her hand and murmured a greeting, which for him was downright friendly.

Rita waved at the crowd. "Not a hope in hell of getting a firsthand look, although, in your condition, Dawn, you probably shouldn't."

At a high-pitched squeal from the alley, Clay turned sharp, eyes narrowing.

"Is that—?" Buffy began.

"Rats," he said, lip curling.

Rita nodded. "They've got animal control in there now, but it's a real mess. They must have come out the minute they smelled blood. I heard that the first cops on the scene had to beat the suckers off. Apparently, that's why the rookie puked. They were feeding—"

She stopped, gaze dipping to Dawn's stomach. "Sorry. Anyway, point is, Dawn, you can't get near the crime scene, and you don't want to. Come over here, and I'll fill you and Buffy in. Unless…"

She looked at Buffy and Clay, as if checking to be sure that murder details would be okay, considering Dawn's "condition."

"It's fine." Dawn patted her belly. "All is quiet—it must be nap time."

She laughed. "I'll keep my voice down so I don't give the little guy nightmares."