Chapter 2: One of a Kind Kid
 

            “Wheeeeerrrrees the Birthday girl?!” Xander called out as he walked in the Summer’s door. Anya followed, carrying an armful of presents. Hope squealed from somewhere within the house and the next thing Xander knew he was lying flat on his back, looking up at a somewhat amused Anya.

             “Ow. So that’s why you volunteered to hold the presents.” He said to Anya in retrospect.

             “Of course. What child in their right mind would tackle a person holding their presents? The valuable merchandise might get damaged.” Anya reasoned as she stepped over her flattened husband and placed Hope’s presents on the table. Xander sat up, but Hope was still attached to him.

             “You came for my birthday party!” Hope exclaimed as she hugged him tight, choking all the air out of him.

             “Urgk!! Air!! Air!!” Xander rasped and she finally let go. “You’re getting stronger and stronger every day.” Xander gasped out, in no way exaggerating.

             “That’s my Mini-Slayer. Hey love, why don’t you let the poor whelp up so he can breathe, eh?”  Spike picked up his giggling daughter off of Xander and shooed her away.

             “Thanks man. Nice decorations you’ve got here.” Xander commented as he got off the floor.

             The house was bedecked in colorful streamers, balloons, “Happy Birthday Hope!” signs and anything else frilly and pink a little girl would want at her birthday party.

             Spike groaned and shook his head. “Enough poncy colors here to make a decent vamp throw up.”

             “So that leaves you out of the running,” Xander slapped him on the back, “But hey, we can fix the throwing up part! I brought beer.” Xander grinned.

             Spike started to grin, but then his face fell, and he scratched his head nervously. “Eh, I can only have one.”

              “One? Man, you are so whipped!” Xander laughed.

             “Xander! Help me with the punch!” Anya called out from the kitchen.

             “Yes dear!” Xander replied automatically and Spike raised his eyebrow at him. “Well I never said I wasn’t whipped too.” Xander admitted sheepishly and then hurried into the kitchen.

             “Presents!! Presents!!” Hope squealed excitedly every time the door opened and the members of the Scooby gang arrived, their arms loaded with gifts. First Willow and Tara, Jonathan, Dawn and then Giles and Celia arriving last.

             At Buffy’s nod of consent, Hope tore open all the presents as fast as she could, barely looking at the newly acquired gift before moving on to the next one.

            Yep, one minute she’s a regular kid… Buffy thought wryly as she laughed and shook her head at her daughter’s antics.

             Quentin Travers sat hunched over his mahogany desk, working furiously.

             Damn that Brown woman, Quentin thought angrily, I should have known it was her... I believe you’ve lost your touch, old man. Quentin told himself as he flipped the page of the dusty old Tome he was reading out of….or rather, translating out of.

           She was right underneath my nose the whole time. How could I have forgotten she was Rupert’s friend? You’re getting forgetful in your old age, Travers. Quentin shook his head at himself as he picked up his pen and continued translating the archaic language.

            No matter. What’s done is done. Now, if only I could get my hands on that child… Quentin clenched his jaw in frustration, and flipped through the latest reports on the Summers household, taken earlier this afternoon. We’ve been underestimating the Slayer and the Vampire…they have some sort of protections on the child…and they have Wards on the house. Very strong Wards that my best Mages can’t get through. But Wards that strong shouldn’t be possible…not for Ms. Rosenburg. What possible ally could the Slayer have that is *that* strong of a Mage? And how could I possibly get past them?

             Suddenly a solution came to Quentin, and he sat back in his padded leather chair, staggered by the revelation. I think it’s time to pay good old Sunnydale another visit. But first, I must do a bit of research…

             Quentin got up from his chair and walked over to his bookshelf. Imbedded into the paneling beside the bookcase was an invisible safe. He placed his hand on the center of the “door” to the safe, and spoke the password. There was a metallic “chink”, and a section of the paneling slid open, revealing a 3x6 cubbyhole filled with dusty old tomes. Quentin dug out the one he was looking for, closed up the “safe” and returned to his desk with the book. He touched the cover of the book with a satisfied grin on his face.

             “Nigel, you did what?” Buffy asked, confusion etched on her face. She was standing in the living room, facing the old and worn journal propped up on the fireplace mantle, where Nigel had chosen to reside. Hope was playing with her new toys on the stairs, and the party guests were milling about the house, eating cake, drinking and talking.

            ::I put up Wards upon the grounds. It’s been years since I’ve done it—quite frankly, I forgot how until young Ms. Summers—::

             “AHEM!!” Dawn cut him off rather hastily, and for good reason.

             “Dawn.” Buffy glared at her sister.

             “Just research, I swear! I haven’t been casting.” Dawn assured her, so Buffy fixed her with a wary glance and then turned her attention back to the conversation with Nigel. “Much.” Dawn added under her breath, and turned to walk away from the situation, but ran right into Spike.

             “Aaah, Spike! Um…been standing there long?”  Dawn asked innocently, but didn’t wait for his reply as she tried to dodge him. Unfortunately a human girl wasn’t any match for a Vampire’s speed.

             “A word with you nibblet. In the kitchen.” Spike demanded as he captured her wrist and pulled her into the kitchen. They both heard Nigel speaking with Buffy, but as they got out of “range” his mental voice disappeared.

             Fortunately for Spike, and unfortunately for Dawn, the kitchen was devoid of party guests. No witnesses.

             “Now what’s all this about hocus pocus?” Spike asked her.

             “Spike, you know I’m not getting into the bad stuff, I swear! I was just—“

             “I know Dawn.” Spike interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

             “What?” She asked, rather taken aback.

             “Look, I don’t much care for you messing around with that stuff, but I won’t get in your way. I trust you. Just as long as you never hit me with one of those bolt thingies again.”

             “It’s called a Levin Bolt.” Dawn blushed. She was still quite embarrassed about the prank Wars that she had initiated five years ago. She had done a lot of growing since then… a lot more than Buffy and Spike knew.

              “I just wanted to know what Nigel was prattling on about without the bugger yammering in my head. I still can’t get used to that.” Spike explained as he fished a beer out of the refrigerator.

             “Oh.” Dawn let out a sigh of relief. “Right. Ah, well, until recently he’s had what Witches and Mages call “shields” on the house…” Dawn explained.

             “Right, keeps out the nasties. Got it.” Spike nodded. “Red explained it to me.”

             “Well there are different kinds of shields. The shields that he had before he called “tell-tales”—where if anything Watcher related touched it, it would warn him, so he could warn us. A Ward is a lot like that, except that it can sense the baddies that aren’t Watchers too. The Wards won’t stop the baddie, but it will make it very uncomfortable inside the shields… a lot like something itching under your skin all the time. It drives you nuts, especially if you’re into magic. All you want to do is leave the area—post haste.”

             “Why doesn’t it drive you and Red batty then? You two being Witches an’ all.”

             “Nigel said he “keyed” it so that it recognizes us. I’m still a little confused on that one.” Dawn admitted.

            “So what about that thing that Red can put up? Remember when we got holed up in the desert when Glory was chasing us?”

             “Not to sound all Trek-y, but that was a force-field.” Dawn supplied.

             “So why can’t Nigel put up one of those things?” Spike frowned.

             “Because it’s visible. Putting up one of those is like putting up a flashing neon sign saying: “Hello, magic is being cast HERE” with one of those big flashing arrow signs pointing to us. I know that the people of Sunnydale are oblivious, but I don’t think they’re that oblivious.”

             “And these Ward thingies… aren’t visible?”

             “Right, not to anyone that’s not a Mage, or doesn’t have the Sight.”

             “Bloody hell, all this Mojo talk is confusing.” Spike shook his head and took a swig off of his beer, setting it on the counter.

             “Not to Witches and Mages.” Dawn grinned insolently.

             “Yes, well not all of us can be so gifted.” Spike pat her head mockingly just as Hope burst into the kitchen.

             “Daddy, daddy! Come and see! Come and see!!” Hope said as she captured her father’s wrist and drug him out into the living room.

             “Alright then love, careful with that arm, it’s attached.” Spike reminded her, not exactly playfully. She really is a Mini-Slayer. Spike thought fondly, although wryly. His wrist was going to be a bit sore for at least an hour where she was gripping him painfully tight. She didn’t do it on purpose of course—usually she was very mindful of her strength. Only when she was upset or extremely happy did she forget. She wasn’t in tears, so Spike was betting on the later.

             “Your friend Clem is here, and he brought me a present!” Hope finally filled him in just as he spotted his long-time demon buddy, standing next to the couch.

             “I found him!” Hope announced to Clem, even though the floppy eared demon had already spotted Hope dragging Spike over to him.

             “Hey Spike! Good to see you.” Clem grinned, genuinely happy to see him.

             “Yeah, it’s been awhile.” Spike grinned back at him, “What have you been up to?”

             “Oh not much…Willy had to ban the back room tables. Cops were starting to get suspicious of the—“

             “Daddy! Uncle Clem!” Hope whined impatiently, supremely bored with the adult conversation.

             “What love?” Spike looked down at his daughter.

             “Uncle Clem said that he’d give me a Birthday present.” Hope pouted while fidgeting in barely contained excitement.

             “Oh! Right, sorry.” Clem’s grin increased as he turned and picked up a wicker picnic basket that he had placed next to the couch when he arrived. “Here, happy birthday.” Clem said proudly as he gave it to her.

             Hope gave the basket a curious glance, but sat cross-legged on the floor, set it down before her and opened the lid. “Oooooooh!!”  Hope squealed in delight as she reached into the basket.

             “I hope it’s okay…” Clem was saying uncertainly just as Hope pulled out a baby kitten and hugged it to her chest.

             “Oh I love her!!” Hope gushed as the  kitten mewed at her. Spike had to give Clem credit—it wasn’t some mangy ally kitten. It actually looked like a pure bred of some kind. And it wasn’t exactly a kitten—it was about eight months old. But Hope didn’t seem to care.

             “They call them “Bengals”, after Bengal Tigers. From what I hear, they’re quite feisty sometimes…” Clem leaned closer to Spike so Hope wouldn’t hear, “Too feisty to eat.”

             “It won’t hurt her will it?” Spike asked Clem.

             “Well….uh…” Clem actually grimaced in uncertainty.

             “Athena won’t hurt me.” Hope said as she pet the kitten lovingly.

             “Athena?” Spike raised his eyebrows.

             “That’s her name. Isn’t that right Athena?” Hope said to the kitten, and the kitten actually mewed in response. Spike shook his head, figuring it was just a coincidence. “Can I keep her daddy? Please?” Hope gave him her doe eyes.

             “Sure love…”

             “Oh, look who just volunteered for cat-box duty!” Buffy exclaimed in mock cheeriness, making her presence known to the group. Hope was blissfully petting her new kitten, Clem was looking apologetic and Spike was at a loss for words.

             Colin Weasley “probed” the shields surrounding the Summer’s home again. As he expected, he met extreme resistance, and dutifully copied it down in his report as he pulled back his Energies and sighed.

             It has been five years since he was assigned to translate the Ahmse’ir Prophecy… Three years since his Superior, Professor Broody had died of heart failure (small wonder, the way Quentin had been hounding him), Two years since Quentin gave up on translating the Prophecy, and Two months since he had been re-assigned to Sunnydale to try and find “cracks” in the Shielding upon the Summer’s home, or any other weaknesses.

            All because I’m the Adept Mage on the Council. For once, that fact brings me no joy. Colin thought wryly as he looked out the van window into the Summer’s home. I know what Mr. Travers says about this child…but how can such an innocent looking child be evil?

             Colin watched through the van’s window, into the Living room window of the Summer’s home as the Child lifted a kitten out of a basket and pet it lovingly. Apparently it was a Birthday Gift from William the Bloody’s Demon friend “Clem” (according to previous Watcher reports). The whole situation was rather strange, even by a Watcher’s standards. The Slayer is socializing with the Demons she is supposed to Slay? How odd. I guess that accounts for her relationship with the Vampire…yet she --or a team from her little group-- performs her Duty every night. Is there something special about these particular Demons? Colin made a note of his thoughts in his reports as well, while he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

            The “undercover” van was parked a block from the Summer’s driveway. Of course, it wasn’t very undercover if the subject you’re spying on knows that you are spying… and the Slayer knew he was here all right. Like vultures, Watchers would always be spying on her…so no use in hiding it if she already knew they were there.

             Colin glanced at his watch and shook his head as he watched the child’s Birthday Party. I honestly don’t know which team I’m cheering for anymore.

             “So… Celia is staying with Giles?” Dawn asked Giles with raised eyebrows.

             “Of course. What are friends for?” Giles said offhandedly as he watched Jonathan pick cheetos out of his teeth. Giles grimaced, shook his head and returned his attention to the conversation.

             “Orgasms.” Anya offered.

             “Thank you Anya.” Giles sighed, not at all surprised at her comment, but turning slightly red all the same.

             “Any time!” Anya replied cheerfully.

             Giles sighed in slight annoyance. “Yes, well, orgasms aside, she’ll be helping us with the attacks and such. It certainly won’t hurt to have another pair of hands to help out around here.”

             “And as a free bonus, you get the rest of me attached to those hands.” Celia walked in to their 'circle' and joined the conversation. Giles flushed. “Speaking of hands, Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Celia Brown.” Celia held out her hand to Dawn.

             “Dawn Summers.” Dawn shook her hand politely.

             “Ah, Buffy’s sister. Giles told me all about you.” Celia smiled warmly.

             “Oh…did he?” Dawn fixed Giles with a pointed glance.

             “Oh, no, no, of course not. Not….ah…everything.” Giles said hastily while fidgeting with his glasses. Celia gave him a questioning look. “P-personal…business, not included…of course.”

             Celia was left wondering what that comment meant.

             “Buffy, can I talk to you for a minute?” Tara asked and led Buffy to an unoccupied corner.

             “Yeah?”

             “I…Well, I wanted to talk to you about Hope…” Tara fidgeted.

             “Okay.” Buffy said, unsure of where this was going.

             “Well…she’s different Buffy. There’s something there. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but she’s powerful.”

             “Well yeah, she’s got the whole Slayer and Vampire strength going for her—“

             “Not just that…I don’t know how to explain it. Her aura is the brightest I’ve ever seen, and it has so many complicated aspects to it I can’t even begin to learn what she is. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with her…it’s just that she’s different. One of a kind. The only Aura I ever saw that was close to hers is Cordelia’s.”

             “Cordelia?!” Buffy said disbelievingly.

             “Not like that. Cordelia is aligned with the Powers that Be. She’s a Seer… and has that whole glowy thing going on. Hope’s aura is something like that, but even more complicated.” Tara said seriously, “Buffy, I can’t even begin to guess what she can do. But she has power…and lots of it. I can see it.”

              “I-I don’t understand…” Buffy admitted.

            ::RED ALERT! WATCHERS ON THE MOVE!::  Nigel’s warning snapped everyone to attention.

             “Crap, earlier than we expected.” Buffy swore.

             “Well it’s just not Hope’s Birthday party without an attack from our favorite tweed goonies.” Xander sighed as everyone hit the weapon’s chest at the same time.

             “Don’t let the bad men get me Mommy!!!!” Hope said fearfully as she tucked herself underneath the tablecloth-covered coffee table to hide, taking her new kitten Athena with her.

             “Everyone, you know your positions—we take the fight outside.” Buffy ordered, and everyone took up his or her pre-assigned duties.

             “Um…what shall I do dear?” Celia asked Buffy a bit uncertainly.

             Buffy picked up a weapon from the weapons chest—a crossbow—and handed it to Celia. “Defend my daughter. If any of them get too close…” Buffy left the sentence unfinished.

             “I will.” Celia nodded in understanding.

             “Don’t worry Buffy, we’re protecting her.” Dawn said, referring to herself, Tara and now the newly added Celia. Buffy nodded.

             “Nigel, ETA?” Buffy called out as she turned and headed for the front door that had been left open by the other’s abrupt departure.

            ::Thirty seconds. I suggest you get outside with the others. Things are about to get…ah, dicey.:: Nigel replied dutifully.

             Beneath the coffee table, Hope sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, resting her chin there while rocking back and forth. She had Athena cradled in the tiny space between her body and her knees.

             “I don’t want to go with the bad men, Athena…But Mommy can’t save me this time …” Hope whispered fearfully to the little kitten. Athena made a little mewing noise. “No, I can’t do that! Not in front of them…it’s a secret, Nigel said so.” Hope replied as if the kitten had spoken to her.

             Hope jumped in reflex when she heard a loud banging against the outside of the house and the sound of someone getting hurt.

             “Hope, you okay down there?” Dawn asked.

             Hope looked through the gap between the floor and the hem of the tablecloth and saw three pairs of feet—small black leather boots that she knew belonged to Dawn, a plain pair of heeled tan boots that belonged to Tara, and a pair that Hope didn’t recognize.

             “Fine.” Hope whispered loud enough for Dawn to hear.

             More fighting noises could be heard outside—from the sounds of the carnage going on outside, not many Watchers would be leaving the grounds of the house alive.

             Hope peered cautiously out from beneath the tablecloth and looked up at the women surrounding her hiding place.

             Celia. That was the owner of the other pair of shoes that she didn’t recogize.

             There was more banging from outside, this time from the direction of the back door. Hope saw the women tense and face that direction.

             There was shouting from the far end of the house—then the sound of the glass on the back door breaking. More banging around. Then finally with a loud CRACK! the back door was opened.

             Hope saw the three women clutch their weapons with white knuckles, so she ducked back beneath the tablecloth into her hiding space.

             “Be very quiet Athena.” Hope whispered to the kitten. There were sounds of footsteps coming from the kitchen, heading towards the living room. Then suddenly they were there in the living room.

             The crossbow was fired and a bolt apparently hit its mark from the sounds of someone’s grunt of pain and then collapse on the floor. But there were more footsteps coming in from the kitchen, heading their way.

             Hope clutched Athena tighter, but still mindful of the kitten’s threshold for pain. She closed her eyes tight and made her mind blank so that she wouldn’t have to listen to the sounds of fighting: flesh hitting flesh, furniture being kicked around and fallen over, crossbow bolts either hitting or missing their mark, Axes being swung.

             I wish it would all just stop, Athena. Hope thought, looking at her new kitten. Why does this always have to happen? I never did anything to the Bad Men.

             A Watcher was suddenly thrown against her hiding spot and the table jarred enough for Hope to squeak in surprise. There was a pause in fighting for a moment—and then the fighting resumed.

             “Rothson!! Kill the abomination!” A Watcher’s voice ordered. “It’s under the table!”

             “Stay away from her!!” Dawn shouted vehemently, and Hope heard her redouble her efforts in fighting.

             But suddenly the Coffee table was kicked over—and Hope’s hiding place was revealed. Fear clutched her heart when she saw how many Watchers were in the room.

             There had to be at least seven…seven to three. Not good odds at all.

             But suddenly that didn’t matter. Before she could blink a hand grabbed her and pushed her harshly against the wall. A gleam of metal warned her that the Watcher had a dagger in his hand. She stood, paralyzed in fear as she watched it descend towards her chest.

To Be Continued....
 
 
 

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