Part 2

October, 1998

"Buffy!" a familiar voice exclaimed. The new mother roused slowly, reluctantly opening her eyes and meeting those of her best friend who was so excited it was almost frightening. "They’re so beautiful! Twins! You had twins!"

"Yeah, I’ve known for a while," Buffy said quietly. Willow’s face slowly fell.

"You didn’t tell me," she said.

"I didn’t want to talk about it," Buffy replied, pushing herself up. She had a Slayer’s super-strength, but giving birth to twins had still been hard. Even small, premature twins. She hadn’t been due for another two weeks, though the doctor assured her the babies were fine. It was even common for twins to be born this early.

"Oh," Willow said, then summoned a smile. "Xander, Cordy and Oz are still looking at them. I wanted to come see you." Buffy summoned a smile herself, reaching out to hug her friend.

"You guys all came?" she asked, pulling away.

"Yeah, as soon as your mom called. Oz drove us in his van," Willow said. Buffy nodded, hesitating suddenly.

"Giles and Kendra?" she asked reluctantly.

"They’re busy. But they really wanted to come! They send their best wishes," Willow said quickly. Buffy nodded, her face serious again. Willow switched subjects. "They have your eyes! Well . . . the boy anyway. The girl’s eyes are a little dark."

"The nurse said they might lighten. I doubt it though," Buffy said.

"No, I’m sure they will. And they both have kind of blond hair . . . what little they have."

"They look like him," Buffy said quietly in a final tone. Willow was silent for a moment.

"Buffy, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to leave?" Willow asked anxiously. Buffy closed her eyes for a second, and when she reopened them she seemed to see Willow for the first time. She smiled—genuinely smiled this time—and shook her head.

"Please stay, Will. It’s good to see you. Thanks for coming." Willow nodded quickly.

"Of course we came Buffy. We love you. And we love them too. They’re yours," Willow said softly.

"Mine," Buffy echoed quietly. "Yes, they’re mine." She smiled brightly at Willow then, just as Xander came in, greeting her exuberantly.

"So you’re naming the boy Xander Jr. right?" he asked after kissing her cheek. Buffy laughed softly.

"I was thinking Tristan actually," she said softly.

"That’s really nice," Oz said, coming in and standing beside Willow.

"Kind of . . . old, isn’t it?" Cordelia asked. "No offense, of course. Congratulations and all." Buffy frowned, then smiled fondly.

"It’s an old Welsh legend," Willow spoke up. "Tristan and Isolde . . . doomed lovers . . . it means ‘sorrow’, I think."

"Yeah," Buffy said. There was a moment of silence.

"What about the girl? Alexandra Jr.?" Xander asked, going for a laugh. He got one and a fond smile.

"Kailyn," Buffy replied. "It means ‘beloved’."

"That’s almost pretty!" Cordelia exclaimed.

"Thank you," Buffy said sarcastically.

"Tristan and Kailyn Summers. They’re beautiful names, Buffy," Willow said.

"Thank you," Buffy replied, smiling up at her friend. She was seventeen and instead of choosing what to wear to the next school dance, she was choosing what to name her children. Well, hey, it was that or choose which weapon to go patrolling with, so she should probably call it an upside. "How’s the Slaying going?"

"Pretty good," Willow answered. "Dru was angry at first when . . . Spike calmed her down though. Public scene. It was interesting. They’ve retreated now."

"That’s good. L.A.’s been pretty quiet."

"That’s good."

"Yeah." One of the nurses poked her head in, smiling slightly.

"Ms. Summers needs to get some rest. If you could all please go out into the lobby?" she asked. Buffy cast her friends smiles and they returned them. Willow squeezed her hand and then they were gone as quickly as they had come. Only out of the room, Buffy knew, but somehow it was more than that. She was a mother now, and they were . . . teenagers, like they should be. Like she should be too. Only her life never seemed to work out the way it was supposed to.

Buffy closed her eyes and leaned back on the pillows, picturing them in her mind. Her perfect, tiny little beings. They were hers and hers alone. Hers to love, but also hers to raise, to take care of. Other people would help of course, but truly they were hers. She was alone in the huge, frightening world, with two tiny babies to care for and no idea of what she was doing.

A few tears slipped from her eyes as Buffy turned her face into her pillow and began to drift off to sleep. She missed him so much, missed his strength and his gentleness and being around him. How he would have loved children. How he would have cared for them . . . he was gone now though, and he was never coming back. She’d seen to that. Because his soul was gone forever anyway, and without it he would never have let her be, would never have let her live her life. He would never have left them alone until he either had his children or killed them. And they were all Buffy had now. All she had . . .

Buffy Summers drifted off to sleep, too tired from all that had happened in the last day to realize what the birthmark on her daughter’s shoulder meant.

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"Kailyn’s hungry. Once you feed her you can just put her down here and we’ll leave Tristan too," the nurse said. Buffy smiled at her, accepting her tiny crying daughter.

"Thank you."

"Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?" the nurse asked, hesitating.

"No, thank you," Buffy said, waiting until the woman left before putting the fussy baby to her breast. Both Joyce and the doctor had been adamant about breast feeding. It was a strange feeling, and it hurt when her milk came in all at once, but she like the connection to the babies.

Kailyn calmed at once, settling down to eat. She was bigger than Tristan, though not by much, and hungry more often. Buffy cradled her head carefully, her fingers smoothing the feather soft blond fuzz upon her head. Slowly her dark eyes drifted closed as she ate. Buffy waited until she was totally still before detaching her and leaning over to the small two-baby bed in which Tristan still slept. Her eyes caught on the mole on Kailyn’s shoulder and her mind went back to a similar mole, on herself. The mark of a Slayer.

"Oh no!" she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Please, please no!" Life couldn’t be this cruel. Her daughter a Slayer . . . it couldn’t be! Maybe it was just a birthmark. But she knew it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. The next Slayer . . .

The sunlight shifted onto the babies’ bed, and into Kailyn’s eyes. She roused and started crying at the brightness. Buffy reached for her immediately, then stopped when she saw her daughter’s face. Not a human face. She’d never seen a baby vampire before, but that’s what her daughter looked like.

Kailyn Summers lay in the sunlight, the mark of a Slayer on her shoulder and the mask of a vampire on her face.

********************

"Are you sure they’re eating enough?" Joyce asked anxiously, looking up from her crying granddaughter.

"Kailyn just ate! So did Tristan. There’s no reason for either to be hungry. They gorge themselves, but they’re still losing weight!" Buffy cried in despair, then went back to soothing her infant son.

"You’ve tried walking them?"

"I’ve tried everything! The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong either. And they won’t let me leave!" Buffy exclaimed, glancing around the white hospital room and shuddering slightly.

"They just want to make sure the babies are all right. Look, Tristan’s yawning, maybe he’ll go to sleep."

"Why don’t you walk him in the hall?" Buffy suggested. "He likes that." Joyce nodded and they carefully switched bundles.

"I’ll be right here if you need me," Joyce said. Buffy nodded, turning her attention to the crying baby in her arms.

As she tried once again to put Kailyn to her breast—and failed again—she thought of something. Remembered, though she’d tried desperately to forget it. Putting the baby down for a second, Buffy cast a quick glance over the room and seized a letter opener her mother had been using. Steeling herself, she jabbed the end into her finger, wincing as it broke the skin and a drop of blood welled up. That was the easy part. Now came the hard part . . . the part that went against all of Buffy’s instincts. This was for her daughter, she told herself. For both her children. They were the important thing.

Careful not to get blood on anything, Buffy picked up the still crying baby and tentatively put the punctured finger to her tiny mouth. A small pink tongue darted out and licked off the drop of blood, then Kailyn immediately took the finger in her mouth and began to suck, as if she were nursing. Only this was blood, not breast milk.

Buffy sat down, careful not to dislodge her. Kailyn didn’t even notice, so intent was she on her meal. She had calmed straight down and was even beginning to drift off. Buffy on the other hand, was feeling a little woozy. Kailyn was very enthusiastic, and she was a good sucker . . . not to mention having a strong jaw and chewing on Buffy’s finger.

When Kailyn had finally finished, Buffy put her down to sleep. Her finger was totally white from blood loss, but the sucking had exacerbated the prick and it was still bleeding. Buffy grabbed a cup that had been filled with water earlier and let the last blood from her finger drip into it for Tristan. When no more could be squeezed out, she went to the cabinet she’d seen the nurses get supplies out of and found a band aid. Taking deep breaths to ward off the panic and horror that threatened to overwhelm her, Buffy put the cup of blood in a drawer and sat down hard on the bed.

"Look, honey, I got him to sleep," Joyce whispered, coming back in. Buffy smile weakly.

"Me too. With mine I mean."

"Yes, well, I was just informed visiting hours are over, so I’ll just put Tristan down and skedaddle." Buffy smiled fondly.

"You’re allowed to stay, Mom, since I’m a minor. You’re not exactly a ‘visitor,’ " Buffy pointed out. Joyce sighed.

"I know, I just have work to do. If you want me to stay . . ." Buffy shook her head.

"No, no. It’s fine Mom. Go." Joyce hesitated.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Mom . . ." Buffy said with a meaningful look. Joyce gave her a little smile but obediently went, saying she’d be back early the next morning and closing the door behind her. Buffy collapsed as soon as she was gone, nearly hyperventilating.

"What am I going to do?" she whispered. She couldn’t let them feed off her forever. And other humans were definitely not an option. She knew there were other ways . . . Angel hadn’t fed on humans while he had a soul. Where did he get his food? Blood packs or something . . . But where had he gotten those? She couldn’t raid the hospital, and she had no idea of even where to start . . . And no one to help her. Usually she’d go to Giles, but she hadn’t even spoken to him since the day she told him she was pregnant and walked out of the library. Besides, what could he really know? He didn’t know any more about vampires with souls than she did. And she didn’t want to tell anyone about it . . . she didn’t know how to. She couldn’t tell her friend that her children really had inherited quite a bit from their father. Willow wouldn’t know how to deal—Buffy hardly did—and Xander . . . Xander had never liked or trusted Angel even with a soul. To have him feel the same way about her children . . . Buffy couldn’t tell him.

She truly was alone. All she had was them. Babies. Half vampire babies. But half human too. They had souls. They were hers. All she had.

"Visiting hours are over sir. If you could come back tomorrow . . ." one of the nurses said loudly.

"She’ll want to see me," a man’s voice said. It wasn’t familiar.

"If she says no, will you leave?" the nurse asked through gritted teeth.

"Of course," the other voice answered. There was a knock on Buffy’s door. She straightened up and calmed her breathing.

"Come in," she called. The nurse opened the door and Buffy saw the man the voice belonged too. He was short, with horrible clothes . . . the type that made her think of an old Italian guy that hit waitresses on the butt, only more flamboyant. He had about fifteen golden chains on. She’d never seen him before.

"This man was very adamant about seeing you. He says it’s an emergency."

"Angel sent me," the man said. Buffy froze, saw again that horrible moment when he crumbled into death.

"He can stay," she managed to say somehow. The nurse gave them both strange looks, then shrugged.

"You have ten minutes," she said firmly before leaving. Buffy waited two seconds, then was off the bed and holding the little man to the wall by his neck.

"What the Hell did you mean by that?" she demanded.

"It’s, uh, complicated. Angel didn’t precisely send me, but I do know him, and in a way he—"

"Tell me why that means you should live?" Buffy asked coldly.

"Angel. Not Angelus. There’s a big difference. Remember Angel? Love of your life, you two made with the—"

"I remember," Buffy said through gritted teeth then tightened her grip around his neck. "So talk." He gulped but did as he was told.

"It’s about the babies. You’ve figured it out, right?" the man asked.

"Figured what out? Buffy asked, though she knew very well what he was talking about.

"The little vampire problem. Wondering how to feed them, right? Where to get blood?" Buffy didn’t answer, even though he was right. She didn’t trust this guy.

"Well? You have answers?"

"Actually yes. In my pocket." Buffy lowered him down enough that she could hold him with one hand, and reached into his jacket pocket with the other. She drew out a blood pack with a business card attached. The card was for a butcher shop in L.A.

"They run a blood business on the side . . . pick-ups are every morning at 7:30 and every night right after sundown. Tell them Whistler sent you and they’ll give you the best they got."

"Animal blood?" Buffy asked.

"Cows, pigs, stuff like that. You’re not vegetarian, are you?" Buffy shook her head. "Good, because you’re going to handle a lot of blood in the next 18 years Are you going to let me down now?"

"How do I know I can trust you?" Buffy demanded. "It might be a trap."

"You don’t. But as I see it, you don’t really have a choice." Buffy hated that he was right. She let him down and took a small step back.

"I’m almost grateful to you right now, but don’t push it," she warned. He rubbed at his neck, then took a step towards the sleeping babies. Buffy stepped between them quickly and Whistler raised his hand to show that he didn’t have bad intentions. Buffy didn’t move. He peered at them around her.

"Beautiful," he said.

"Thank you," Buffy answered without warmth.

"They have a lot ahead of them," he said softly. "Especially Kailyn."

"What do you know about it?" Buffy demanded, afraid suddenly for her daughter.

"You’re alone. You’ve always been alone one way or another. You can’t depend on other people. You’re the Slayer. Slayer’s can’t. And Kailyn—"

"Who are you?" Buffy demanded, interrupting his soliloquy.

"I’ve been called a lot of things—Whistler, for now. I was supposed to come train Angel, pull him out of his century long self-pity. I did that. You did the rest. Now I help you . . . and Kailyn."

"So what are you? Some kind of immortal demon sent down to even the score between good and evil?" Buffy demanded. He gave her a suprised look.

"Good guess!" he exclaimed. "We’re not all bad guys you know. I—"

"Ten minutes," the nurse said, opening the door. Whistler sighed.

"Good bye. Remember, you only have yourself," he said.

"Bye. Thanks . . . I think," Buffy replied.

"No problem. I’ll see you," he said, and it wasn’t a question. She didn’t say anything, just watched him without expression as the nurse motioned pointedly out of the room. He left at once. Buffy sat down on the bed again after the nurse closed the door, clutching the card in her hand. She didn’t know if she could trust him, but he was right. She had no other choice but to try . . .

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On to Part 3