Sparkling sunlight gleamed through the windows of Mayor Wilkins’ office. He liked sunlight. It was one of the few things he’d miss about this world once he came into power and blotted out its existence with his army of dark minions. That and kittens—because who doesn’t love kittens?

Oh well, he thought, as he pulled down the blinds.

Mr. Trick came forward from the shadows and stood before him. He was a snappy dresser, and very clean for a vampire—two things the Mayor admired about his army leader. He found most vampires were vile creatures that gave little credence to personal hygiene. And they ate kittens. Still, they were the cheapest army going—simply provide protection from the Slayer and promise them a feast and they were putty in your hands.

The Mayor looked at his hands. He’d only just washed them, but he swore he could still see a spot. He tried to ignore it.

“Mr. Trick, would you mind telling me why you’ve chosen to visit me during my regular office hours? I’m expecting a representative of the PTA any time now.”

“The troops are anxious to go out hunting again. The Slayer is out of commission and they know it—we could take over the entire town and not worry about opposition.” Mr. Trick smiled slickly.

The Mayor leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “The Slayer may be out of the picture, but there was still heavy resistance. Our young Slayer has some dangerous friends, it seems, and for the time being I can’t afford them stumbling across my affairs.”

“They’re getting restless,” Mr. Trick pressed. “If they don’t hunt soon they’ll start to turn against each other.”

“Very well,” said Wilkins. “Send them out in small groups, and make sure they clean up their messes—we don’t want to raise any alarms.”

“And if we run across the Slayer’s friends again?” asked Trick.

“Avoid the situation at all costs. Ms. Summers may be out of the picture for now, but if something happened to her friends she might take an interest.”

Trick nodded briskly and slid out of the room, drawing the door closed behind him with a barely audible ‘snick’.

Mayor Wilkins opened his desk drawer and pulled out a hand mirror. He held it up and scrutinised his reflection, taming unruly hairs and thoroughly inspecting his teeth for any lodged remnants from his lunch. When he was satisfied, he buzzed Finch and asked him to send in the PTA.

This wasn’t what he’d bargained for when he became a Watcher. He was supposed to be a key element in the training and protection of an active Slayer, guiding her and preparing her to do battle against the forces of evil. Instead, his tiny bachelor pad was overrun by teenagers and his Slayer was off God-knew where building a love nest for herself and her former Watcher in which to raise their demon spawn.

A crash sounded in his little kitchenette, followed by Xander’s voice calling out “Sorry!” Wesley arrived in time to catch Xander sweeping up the remains of one of his dishes.

Take a deep breath and count to three, Wesley reminded himself.

Xander smiled sheepishly at the frowning plate-owner and dumped the shards into the garbage. The rest of the group shuffled silently past Wesley into the dining/living room and took their seats around his table. Wesley grumbled some very British oaths at Xander before joining the others at the head of the table. Xander followed, but since there were only four chairs, he was left to stand and mill about.

Wesley opened his mouth to speak, intending to call the meeting to order, but Willow beat him to it. The others glued their eyes on her, and he realised for the first time that even though he was the most qualified person—not to mention the only adult—in the group, Willow was the one they looked to to take charge. It stung his ego a little, but he let it go. He was, after all, the outsider in the tightly knit team, and he would have to earn their respect.

“So, as you all know,” Willow started, “Oz has an update on the Demon Team. They made a run for it last night, thinking we wouldn’t expect it.” She beamed at them, quite proud of the fact that she’d outsmarted Giles.

“I found them,” Oz finished simply.

“Well, that was a whole lot easier than I expected,” said Xander.

“We were lucky,” Oz continued. “If I hadn’t been right on their tail, I guarantee you we never would have found them. They’re hiding out in a cabin along the coast. Not far from here. But Giles must have the place rigged out with some serious mojo, ‘cause it’s got camouflage the NSA would drool over.”

“Do you think they were aware of your presence?” asked Wesley.

“I’m pretty sure they think they got away clean,” Oz answered.

“Good,” said Willow. “Then all we have to do is take turns checking on them to make sure they stay put. Xander—you and I have to get cracking on the research. We have to find the relocation spell Ethan Rayne was using, then figure out how to adapt it.”

“Why not just have this Ethan Rayne fellow do it?” asked Wesley. The others looked at him as if he’d asked the dumbest question ever. “Sorry—am I missing something? He was helping you out before, wasn’t he?”

“Only because Giles kept him chained and gagged. I don’t think we’d have as much luck persuading him,” said Willow.

“Fine then,” he said. “If you think you can handle the spell, I’ll leave it in your hands. And that leaves me to take care of the vampire gang situation. I suggest nightly patrols in groups of four—that way you’ll each have every fourth night off for your studies.”

“So I guess that means I can kiss my social life good-bye,” said Cordelia.

“This is all strictly voluntary,” said Wesley. “If any of you wants out of this, say so now and we’ll adjust our plans accordingly. I don’t like the idea of putting any of you children in danger.”

“We’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have,” said Xander, getting his back up at his use of the word ‘children’. “How many apocalypses have you averted?”

Wesley counted to three once more before answering. “I was not calling your combat skills into question, I assure you. You’re all capable fighters…but you shouldn’t have to be. This is the Slayer’s war, and I can’t, in good conscience, expect you to put your lives on the line in her absence.”

“You can’t handle a vampire attack alone—not one like the other night,” Oz pointed out.

“He’s right,” Cordelia agreed. “No offence, but I’ve seen you fight—you need us. Like it or not, we’re a package deal. And, trust me, I’m not in the ‘liking it’ camp.”

Xander put his hands on her shoulders as a show of solidarity. “Looks like we’re all in.”

“Alright,” Wesley sighed. “You, Cordelia, Willow and I will patrol tonight and Oz can check in on the Demon Team.”

They all nodded, although Cordelia nodded with a bit less enthusiasm—she had the feeling she’d just agreed to a whole lot more than she’d bargained for. Plus, she’d have to reschedule her manicure.

It was peaceful and calm, and if she allowed her mind to stop struggling, she could envision herself, Giles and the baby spending the rest of their lives here, freed from the constraints of society and responsibility—a microcosm unto themselves.

Giles came up behind her, tossing a dishcloth over his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, his large hands settling protectively over her growing abdomen. He kissed her cheek softly and enjoyed a moment’s peace before breaking the silence.

“Dinner is ready,” he said at last. “And I have a surprise for you.”

Buffy’s eyes lit up and she pivoted in his arms, setting her mug down on the windowsill so she could embrace him.

“Can I have the surprise now?” she asked, batting her pale lashes at him coyly.

“Not ‘til after dinner,” he said, and caught her hand in his to lead her to the dining room.

It was clear he’d put a lot of effort into it—there were candles and flowers cut from the garden, and the food looked incredible. But all Buffy could think about was the surprise Giles had in store for her. She ate as quickly as manners permitted, then had to wait forever for him to finish his meal before she could pester him again about it.

Giles rolled the last sip of wine around in his mouth—not to savour the taste, but to savour the effect it was having on Buffy. He was being cruel—he knew that—but he loved the way she was squirming in her seat, willing him to hurry up. With vicious slowness, Giles put down his wine glass and settled his gaze on his impatiently waiting fiancée.

“If you make me wait one more second, I’ll scream,” said Buffy. He flashed her an innocent ‘what, me?’ look that made her want to strangle him.

“Hang on a minute,” he relented finally, and left the table. He returned a moment later with a large, thick, plain brown envelope. Grinning, he handed it over to her.

“Would it have killed you to wrap it?” Buffy quipped. “It’s all about the presentation, you know.”

“Just open it,” Giles urged, growing impatient himself.

Buffy tore into the envelope, but her face fell when she pulled out the package of booklets.

“You got me books? No offence, Giles, but you’ve got all kinds of books here, and I don’t even read those. It’s not like I needed more books to not read.”

“They’re high school correspondence courses,” he explained.

“Oh, well that makes them so much more exciting,” she said, dripping sarcasm.

“I-I thought you’d want to keep up your studies—there’s no reason why you can’t graduate with the rest of your class.”

Buffy groaned and flopped her head down onto the pile of booklets, her hair splayed out, straying onto her nearly empty dinner plate.

“Buffy…?” Giles prodded timidly. “I realize it wasn’t what you were hoping for, but I thought you’d be pleased. Your life’s been turned upside-down—so many things have been taken away from you. I just wanted to give you something normal to hang on to—some piece of your future that you can still control.”

Buffy lifted her head and raised an eyebrow at him; “Please—you’ve been dying for the chance to force-feed me books, and you know it. I bet you won’t rest until I get straight A’s, too.”

Giles mouth quirked up in a playful smile. “It would be an insult to me, both as a librarian and your future husband, if you didn’t at least get a few A’s.”

“I knew it!” said Buffy, slapping him on the arm.

“Ow!”

“Baby.”

“That bloody hurt!” he complained.

“Are you gonna whine all night, or are you gonna let me thank you properly?” asked Buffy suggestively.

Giles’ mouth went dry as she led him up the creaky wooden steps and into their bedroom. Looking at her—knowing she would always be his—set his stomach fluttering, and he knew that thirty years from now he’d still feel the same way.

The haggard looking group was gathered around the large study table in the library. Weeks of sleep deprivation and endless surveillance was taking its toll on all of them.

“What makes you say that?” asked Cordelia. “We haven’t seen any vampires since the night we were attacked.” Her eyes lingered on him, appreciating the new, rugged look he was sporting. The two-day’s growth of stubble on his chin and the rumpled-clothes thing was definitely giving him an Indiana Jones appeal.

“That’s what’s got me concerned,” Wesley replied. “Vampires are not, by nature, secretive creatures. They hunt, they kill, and they don’t clean up their messes… Until now, that is.” He slapped down a newspaper article onto the table for everyone to see. “Police have found a stash of bodies in a mass pit just outside of town—all desiccated. The vampires are hunting carefully, covering their tracks and disposing of the bodies.”

“But…why?” asked Willow. “We know there’s large numbers of them—what’s to stop them from going on a full-scale feeding frenzy?”

“I’m fairly certain that, left to their own devices, that’s precisely what they’d do. No…there’s someone or something more powerful pulling their strings. And for whatever reason, they’ve been ordered to keep a low profile.”

“Something big’s in the works,” said Willow, voicing his fears.

“Something very big, I’m afraid,” Wesley agreed.

“We’ve done Big,” boasted Xander. “Kicked Big’s ass, I might add.”

“Not without Buffy,” Oz pointed out.

“You had to rain on my parade, didn’t you?” Xander griped. Oz quirked an eyebrow at him in answer.

“We can still do this,” Wesley said, trying valiantly to lift their spirits. “If we can find their lair before they can do whatever it is they’re planning to do, then we stand a pretty good chance of coming out on top.” He stood and started pacing, head bowed, hands thrust deep into his pockets.

“Okay,” said Willow, “so what we’re after is some place that can fit a large number of vampires comfortably. Someplace other than the sewers or cemeteries.”

“Why’s that?” asked Xander. “These vamps got a thing against dirt and germs?”

“Don’t be silly,” Wesley snapped, as he nervously wiped an invisible speck of dust off his glasses.

“It’s just that Buffy would have found them on her patrols if they were sticking to the usual places,” Willow explained, flashing Wesley a look that said she didn’t think much of his diplomatic skills. “Unfortunately we don’t have much else to go on. The only place we’ve seen a large number of them was in a cemetery—nothing weird there.”

“City Hall!” Wesley said out of the blue. He stopped pacing and joined the others at the table.

“And I thought I was the cryptic one,” said Oz.

“City Hall,” Wesley said again, “is where Buffy said she saw a large group of vampires, and all but one vanished before she could get to them.”

“So, you’re thinking they’ve set up digs right in the middle of town?” asked Xander sceptically.

“It’s a place to start, at least,” said Wesley, sounding doubtful himself. “Why don’t you and Cordelia keep an eye on City Hall tonight? Willow and I will patrol as usual.”

“And who’s keeping an eye on the Demon Team?” asked Willow.

“I’m out of commission for a few nights,” Oz said with a tiny shrug.

“Right—it’s that time of the month already?” asked Wesley, causing Xander to snicker. Willow and Cordelia’s combined glare quickly put an end to that.

“Alright, then. For tonight, we’ll forgo the regular patrol and set up watch at City Hall. I’ll take over surveillance at the cabin,” said Wesley.

“D’you need directions?” asked Oz.

Wesley wasn’t sure if he meant the comment as a jab or not. Wesley had only taken one turn keeping watch at the cabin, and then he’d delegated the job to the others. Even Willow took turns, and she had to learn how to drive the van to do so. The kids had probably decided he thought the job was beneath him, but Wesley wasn’t out to win a popularity contest. His job, above all others, was to ensure that his young volunteers made it through this in one piece. The less time the kids spent on patrol the better, as far as he was concerned.

“Thank-you, but I’m sure I’ll manage to find my way,” said Wesley, praying he was right.

As the last of the stragglers left their offices in a mad dash to get home before dark, the three of them found themselves alone in the eerily deserted business district.

“And they say the nightlife in Sunnydale is dead,” Xander joked, his remark punctuated by the sound of their echoing footsteps in the empty street.

“More like ‘undead’,” said Willow, stopping suddenly. Cordy and Xander turned their heads to see what she was looking at. A group of six vampires had just crawled out of a basement window in the City Hall building.

“Should we follow them?” asked Xander.

“And do what? Call them names?” said Cordelia. “This was supposed to be a simple look-see, remember? No weapons.”

“It could just be a coincidence,” said Xander. “We should follow them—at a safe yet uncowardly distance—in case the real party is somewhere else.”

“I don’t think we need to go anywhere. Look.” Willow pointed to the window, where another group of vampires was crawling out and heading off into the night. “I think we can safely say we found the nest.”

Hiding in the shadows of a nearby doorway, the three of them took turns keeping an eye on the vampire activity. They were swarming in and out of the basement like wasps from a hive. By midnight, they stopped counting. There were too many too many to keep track of.

Not like it mattered much, he thought. Giles and Buffy hadn’t budged since they got there, and it was months before Buffy’s due date. They were playing it cautious. In fact, as far as they knew, Buffy hadn’t stepped foot outside of the cabin once; and Giles only left occasionally to restock on supplies.

At last he caught sight of the marker and turned onto the little dirt road. He inched his way along until he came to the hiding place they’d chosen for the van. Pulling off the road into the underbrush, the van was completely invisible from the direction of the cabin. It meant walking the rest of the way, but they couldn’t risk being discovered.

It was a fair hike to the cabin, made more difficult because he was sticking to the underbrush to avoid leaving tracks in the soft dirt road. He arrived half-covered with leaves and damp with dew from the underbrush.

There were no lights on in the dilapidated cabin, but he knew that was only an illusion. He wondered, not for the first time, if the Council knew about this place. And if they did, why had he never been told about it?

Wesley settled in for the long haul, pulling his thermos of hot coffee out of his backpack. Scanning the area near the cabin, he spotted a gleam of silver metal—confirmation that Giles’ car was still here and, therefore, so was the Demon Team.

Although he would deny it vehemently under interrogation, Wesley dozed off, despite his liberal use of coffee. He awoke with a start when the cabin door banged open and Giles emerged, stretching and breathing deeply as if he hadn’t been outside in days. Which could very well be the case. Otherwise, he looked relaxed and contented, and Wesley couldn’t help feeling immensely irritated. The rational part of his mind knew that Giles was not acting under his own power, but did he have to look so damn happy? He wouldn’t even allow himself to think of the most obvious reason for his happiness. Even though he’d never really gotten to know Buffy, Wesley felt duty-bound to protect her. It was frustrating to sit back and leave her in Giles’ hands—helpless, at least for now, to fulfil his duties as her Watcher.

A few minutes passed uneventfully, but then the door opened again and Buffy stepped outside. Wesley’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of her. In a panic, he started doing the math in his head—he was certain she wasn’t due until June, but she was huge! She looked like she could give birth any second.

They started arguing. Wesley couldn’t hear what was being said, but it was clear that Giles didn’t want her to be outside. Eventually Buffy turned and stomped back into the cabin, slamming the door behind her. Giles pinched the bridge of his nose as if fending off a headache, and followed her inside.

This changed everything, Wesley realised. They’d all been working under the assumption that they had at least another five months to plan their attack, but if Buffy’s pregnancy was as far along as it seemed to be, then they were rapidly running out of time to prepare.