"I'm back!" Xander shouted as he opened the front door. "Raphe bearing formula!" He set down a case of powdered formula and another of various other supplements.

"How was work?" Fred asked. She was rocking Thalia in the living room, giving Cordelia a break from taking care of all five children. Actually, Cordelia was never responsible for all five at once; the others pitched in constantly. As a result, she occasionally complained that she never saw her children. Wil and Angel were particularly attached to Mischa and Julian, although Xander, Fred and Wesley were quite fond of Rhiannon, Thalia and Alan.

"Not bad," Xander replied. "They're thinking about making me shift supervisor," He added. The Raphe had been the first to find work in Syracuse, at a paper processing plant.

"We need the formula," Oz murmured as he joined the pair. "Alan's hungry."

Xander grinned and picked the boxes up. "How's Rhiannon?"

"Asleep," Oz said quietly. "As are Julian and Mischa."

"With the vamps?" Xander asked.

"Of course." Wil and Angel had generously offered share their quarters with any and all of the babies--the room set aside for the cubs just wouldn't hold five children. Now the basement 'sky room' was full of cribs, which held an ever-rotating array of infant werewolves. Either Angel, Wil or both could be found in that room, watching the children as they worked on a computer.

"Did I get the right supplement?" Xander inquired as he unpacked the case. "Bone meal, trace minerals, soy powder, milk powder, protein powder--although GNC looked at me funny for buying that much. I think they think I'm some sort of dealer."

Oz grinned. "It's all there." Cordelia couldn't feed all five infants, and human baby formula wasn't sufficient. Now they had to mix up something stronger, using a recipe Oz and Wesley came up with together. It seemed to be working, since the cubs were growing like weeds and gulped the stuff down readily.

Xander left Oz in the kitchen, playing mad scientist. The Raphe wanted to check on the cubs and see how Cordelia was doing. He found her in the computer room, typing away with a snoozing Alan in her lap. "Hey, Xander. Didja find that place we talked about?" Cordelia asked as he entered.

"Yup," Xander said, taking a seat. "Fred should like it; they want someone to fix their computer system and do an inventory. It'll take years."

"Tell her about it, then," Cordelia ordered. She'd been trying to push some of the others out of the house ever since the cubs were born. At the moment, only Xander and Wesley were working, and it was difficult to make ends meet without dipping seriously into Angel's money. They didn't want to attract Wolfram & Hart's attention, and they knew that most of Angel's accounts were still being watched by the firm. That left them very few to use for emergencies.

"I will. There might be something for Oz at that place, too," Xander commented. "They're looking for a file clerk."

Cordelia grinned and shook her head. If he wanted to ask his lover to work as a file clerk, fine. She'd love to watch. Alan began to stir, hunger waking him up. "Feeding time," She muttered. "Could you ask Oz if he'd get a bottle ready?" She asked as she unfastened her shirt. The cub wouldn't get everything he needed from her, although he got more than the others did. Alan was growing quickly, but he still had some catching up to do.

Xander left to tell Oz about the bottle and to give Cordelia some privacy. When he found Oz, the alpha was almost finished making up a fresh bottle. "You're getting good at that," Xander murmured, taking the bottle and a clean cloth.

"You'd better learn too," Oz told him as they walked back.

"Why?" Xander inquired. "When you're so good at it?"

"We're all gonna have to wolf this time," Oz replied. "For the cubs' sake."

Xander grimaced. "And someone's got to make up the bottles. I get it. How long will you have to do that?"

Oz shrugged. "Until they're old enough to learn control. Might be as early as ten or twelve."

"Months?" Xander said hopefully.

"Years," Oz corrected. "But it could be as late as sixteen."

"That really sucks," Xander groaned.

...

"They're hungry," Wil whispered. Angel glanced up from his computer and studied the cubs.

"Yeah, they are," He murmured. The dark vampire stood up and joined Wil at the cradles, reaching for Julian. "We should take them upstairs."

"Fred had all the windows open earlier," Wil reminded him. They loved their house, but it was full of windows. While Cordelia had thoughtfully chosen opaque blinds, when they were open during the day, the vampires still couldn't move freely.

"Then we'll tell her to close them," Angel said. He picked up a baby monitor and pushed down the button. It was a model that could be used for two-way communication if necessary. "Cordy? The boys are hungry. Are any blinds open?"

Angel listened as Cordelia yelled for Xander. A moment later she replied. "Not anymore. Bring 'em on up; we'll get some formula started."

When Gunn woke from his nap, it was to the vision of Wil, Angel, Fred, Cordelia and Xander bottle-feeding his children. He grinned and retreated into the kitchen to get some coffee. Even with all their help, five kids was a lot of work. Five kids, five sets of dirty cloth diapers, five sets of bottles, five cribs to keep clean... "At least it wasn't six," He told himself.

"Or seven," Wesley said as he came in through the kitchen door.

"Don't even think about that," Gunn warned. "Five is more kids than all eight of us need. Did you go by the grocery?"

"Yes," Wesley assured him. "I simply need some assistance in emptying the car." Gunn nodded and followed the faun outside, where the car was parked.

...

Angel felt Wil bump into him as the blonde rolled over in his sleep. The dark vampire grinned and reached for his lover, figuring that it was time for Wil to wake up. "Angel?" Wil murmured as the brunette teased him into wakefulness.

"Hmm?" Angel hummed. It was quiet, they were alone and he missed having Wil in his arms. One or both of them was always busy with the children these days.

"Did you lock the door?"

"Everyone's asleep," Angel reminded the blonde. Wil must have believed him, because he turned in Angel's arms and pressed a soft kiss to his neck.

"They'd better be," Wil swore. Then he began to move, sliding his body along Angel's. They both moaned softly, lips meeting as they twined together.

"Jelly!"

"Wiw!"

*flop*

*bam!*

"Bloody hell!" Wil pulled the top sheet tight around himself while Angel claimed the blanket. Julian and Mischa had launched themselves into the bed, burrowing into the comforter. "I take it you didn't lock the door," The blonde spat at Angel.

Angel looked bewildered. "They were asleep!"

"Jelly?" Julian said tremulously. "You mad?"

"No, Julian, I'm not mad," Angel assured the tiny boy. Julian was immediately mollified and crawled into Angel's lap, winding his fingers into the blanket. There was no way the werewolf cub was going anywhere.

Meanwhile, Mischa was doing very much the same thing to Wil. "Wiw, 'Wian said it snowed!"

Wil gave up on keeping the child out of his lap and hugged the boy tight against him. "Of course we can--right after you eat dinner and put on some warm clothes."

"Can we have a snow fight?" Mischa inquired innocently.

Wil frowned. "Who do you want to fight?"

"Ree and Sho!" Mischa declared. "We can get Fran too!"

Angel shook his head. "It's not good to have snowball fights," He began. The two boys immediately began to tear up, lower lips trembling. They *wanted* a snowball fight.

Wil thought quickly. "We have to build a fort first. You should get Fran to help you, though. He's really good at that sort of thing."

"Do we *have* to bath?" Julian asked Angel. He *hated* baths.

"Yes," Angel confirmed. "But the sooner you go upstairs and take a bath, the sooner you can go outside in the snow."

That seemed to do the trick; both Mischa and Julian bounded out of bed and ran for the stairs. Once they were safely in the main part of the house, Wil leapt out of bed and grabbed a pair of pyjamas from the nearest dresser. Angel followed suit, pulling on clothes before the boys decided to visit again. Once they were both dressed, Wil led the way up the stairs. "The way I see it, Angel, we have two options."

"Which are?" Angel asked.

"Either we put a lock on the basement door, or we start sleeping in pyjamas. The safety gate isn't keeping them in their room anymore."

Angel scowled. He didn't like either idea, but he'd rather sleep in clothes than not be available to the cubs. "Fine. Pyjamas."

...

Cordelia knew exactly what had happened as soon as the vampires reached the kitchen. It was obvious; Wil was swimming in Angel's black satin pyjamas, while Angel looked rather cute in Wil's considerably less roomy, light green ones. "Get dressed in a hurry?" She asked as she handed a banana to Rhiannon.

Angel glanced down at himself and swore softly. "I guess it's too much to ask that we teach them how to knock?"

"Oh, they already know how to knock," Cordelia replied. "They knock over everything."

Wil smirked at the seer as he heated up his and Angel's dinner. "I thought Xander and Oz would be home by now," He commented as he handed Angel a mug.

"They're on their way, with Wesley and Fred," Cordelia stated. "And they're having to walk. The snow's too deep for the cars."

"How much fell?" Wil asked as he glanced out the window. It was caked over with snow, so he saw nothing.

"Four feet since nine this morning," Cordelia told them. "A lot more than they predicted. I'm guessing everyone will be back in an hour or so; they're taking it slow so no one gets hurt."

"Sounds about right," Angel murmured. "Where's Gunn?"

"With Fran and Siobhan," Cordelia replied. "Watching movies."

"Shrek again?" Wil inquired.

"Nope, Fantasia. So you two are taking the kids out into the snow?" Cordelia continued. "Good luck. They'll disappear in all that stuff."

"We'll carve out something safe for them," Wil assured her. If there was that much snow, maybe they could make tunnels or a cave system. If they watched the cubs carefully, they could play for hours.

...

By the time Xander, Oz, Fred and Wesley got home, Angel and Wil were well into building a cave system, complete with forts, for the cubs. The cubs themselves were helping, carrying snow around and tussling now and then. It was clear to all observers that the vampires were having at least as much fun as the cubs were, and that the children were running out of steam. Gunn and Cordelia picked them up one by one as they got drowsy, cleaning them up and putting them to bed. At two years old, the kids were full of energy and never seemed to stop. Thus, the entire house was impressed that the vampires had managed to wear them out.

"That's the last of them," Gunn murmured as Cordelia took Mischa inside. "Wil?"

The blonde appeared a moment later. "Yeah?"

"They're all asleep," Gunn said quietly. "Thanks."

Wil grinned. "It was nothing. I'll go get Angel." The dark vampire was somewhere in the depths of their snow tunnels, working on some sort of fortress for the cubs.

What Wil found was quite impressive. Angel had carved steps winding up to the surface, where the older vampire was sitting, staring up at the stars. "Look at this," He told Wil as the blonde joined him. "It's..."

Wil looked around. The world was white, right up until the sky started. Then it was pitch black. "Yes, it is."

Angel turned to study his childe. "They're all asleep, aren't they?"

Wil nodded. "We can go inside now."

"In a minute," Angel replied. He reached for Wil and pulled the smaller man into his arms. Wil tilted his face up to accept Angel's kiss, sighing at the tender contact. There hadn't been early enough of this, not for a long time. Midnight emergencies, noon crying jags, marathon rocking and singing for fussy babies...

Angel didn't realize he was pulling at Wil's clothes until the younger vampire was almost naked. The blonde didn't seem to be complaining; the cold didn't bother him unless he let it. Still, Wil thought that if he was going to be exposed to the elements, so was Angel. That was how the dark vampire came to be equally unclothed, naked on the pure, white snow.

"Gods," Angel whispered as he laid Wil out on the snow. His lover glowed, almost as pale as the snow. Angel fleetingly damned himself for being darker, for sullying the pure vision of Wil spread out and open on such a backdrop. It was like seeing him in their bed, only more so. The black night above them, the moon heavy but not yet full. He moved to cover Wil, pressing him down into the snow as they kissed again.

Wil rolled them over and over, caking snow in their hair as they sank deeper into the snow, getting caught up in it, falling into hidden caves and hollows. Snow showered on top of them, burying them in a sea of white-black as the moon's light was cut off. Still they kissed, Angel now thrusting against Wil, their cocks aligned and straining. Heat built between them, the product of skin-on-skin friction. It melted tiny bits of snow, causing water to trickle down their sides. That water just froze on their backs and thighs as it cooled, giving a sharp cold edge to their frantic mating.

Angel pressed his face into Wil's shoulder as he came, spilling cool seed between them. Wil arched, thrust once more, and joined him, panting softly. They lay there in the snow, still completely buried, until Wil began to shift around a bit.

"What?" Angel murmured, tightening his hold on the blonde.

"You might like having snow in your arse, but I don't," Wil snapped. Angel laughed.

"Fine, we'll go in," Angel conceded. Wil looked around for their clothes and realized they were two feet from the surface and covered in snow.

"Maybe we should just dig our way to the house," The blonde recommended. "It's certainly going to be easier."

Angel looked up one more time and agreed. Chances were, if they tried to walk on top, they'd just fall in again. "Lead the way."

Wil quickly found a tunnel they'd carved and led Angel back to the house. They waltzed through the kitchen, ignoring Xander and Oz's catcalls. In fact, it was only Cordelia's voice that stopped them.

"So *that's* why the neighbors called asking about the men's clothes scattered all over the yard," She said, grinning. "Way to go, boys. Did you give her a good show?"

*****
Part 85:

"Buffy?" Dawn murmured as the Slayer finished shelving a stack of books.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you making me do the quarterly taxes?" The younger woman asked, frowning.

"Because you got that minor in stuff like that," Buffy replied. She flopped down in her chair, grinning unrepentantly at her sister. "And it's not fair to Lorne to keep asking him to do it for us. He's already got Caritas to deal with."

"I know," Dawn said wearily. "And it's not like we're..." She flipped through several pages. "Ok, so we are in the red, but only by a little."

"We're always in the red," Buffy said dryly. "Lorne said that Angel never turned a profit, or broke even."

"Cordelia did," Dawn grumbled. "And I'm not sure how."

"Cordelia's good with money," Willow replied as she walked into their office. "Any woman who can find real designer clothes on her budget has to be good with money."

"I miss that," Dawn admitted. "We had fun shopping."

"Well?" Buffy asked Willow. "How'd it go?"

Willow snarled. "Public record? Shesh, right. They couldn't even find the file."

Dawn glanced up from her tortuous work. "Whaddaya mean, they couldn't find the file? It's got official permission from the city; building permits and whatnot. They've *got* to have some kind of records."

"You'd think," Willow retorted. "But no! It's all 'there's no construction site at this location' and 'are you sure you've got this contractor's name right? We haven't heard of them.'"

"But you're sure Wolfram & Hart are involved?" Buffy inquired.

"More now than before," Willow stated. "Although I'm confused as to why they'd be so sloppy."

Dawn grinned. "Well, we've been seeing the effects of... the others on the firm. Maybe it's just that."

"Maybe," Willow conceded. She sat down behind her desk, which was as far from Dawn's as possible.

Buffy looked at the two women. She kind of wanted to get up and go bother Lorne, just to get the two of them to stay in a room together with no one else around. It was mostly Willow; she never remained around Dawn long if Buffy, Lorne or Giles wasn't also present. The Slayer wasn't blind; she knew how much Willow was hurting Dawn.

"I give up," Dawn muttered. "Is Lorne downstairs? He'll know what this line means," She continued.

Buffy nodded, suppressing a sigh. There went *that* plan.

Once Dawn was gone, Willow relaxed a bit and began to chat with Buffy about three of their newest clients and whether they'd be paying or running away screaming.

Buffy was betting on 'screaming'.

"Dawn," Lorne said lightly as she walked into the closed bar. "What brings you down-taxes," He said with a grimace. "Buffy told you to do the taxes." He'd wondered what she'd done with them when she'd made off with the files.

"No," Dawn argued. "She's torturing me. With taxes."

"Well then, let's have a look," He murmured. "Although I'm not really sure why she doesn't let me keep doing them."

"Because she doesn't want to overload you with her problems," Dawn replied quietly. "You've got the club to deal with."

Lorne cocked one bright eyebrow. Dawn wasn't happy, and it wasn't because of the taxes or her sister. That only left two things-Wolfram & Hart and Willow. The demon was quite sure, however, that in this case it was Willow. "Tell you what. I'll finish these lovely taxes, and you go entertain me." He nodded towards the stage for emphasis.

Dawn didn't buy it. "Why do you want to read me?"

"Think of it as your six-month check up, sweetcheeks," Lorne replied.

Dawn considered the situation briefly. It *never* paid to piss off one the only person who could bring Buffy down from a massive pissed-at-Dawn moment. "Fine."

Lorne spread the taxes out on the bar, quickly seeing that Dawn had gotten almost everything finished. He'd just check for accuracy and fill in a couple of gaps. He smirked as one of Dawn's favorite tracks from an old God is my Co-pilot album began playing. He wasn't that fond of the group, but she was, so he kept them in rotation. Besides, the noise bothered his least favorite Umkadhka demon customers. "We're here, we're queer..."

Somehow, Lorne managed to finish Buffy's quarterly taxes throughout Dawn's performance. He was very, very glad he'd asked her to sing. She was deeply disturbed, and Lorne knew from talking with Buffy that now was not the time for anyone to breakdown. However, that was where the youngest investigator was headed.

"Well?" Dawn growled as she threw herself onto a barstool. "What's the verdict?"

Lorne stacked up the papers and handed them back to her. "Talk to her. Soon."

"Yeah, right," Dawn muttered. "Like that's gonna do anything." She took the papers and stomped out. "Thanks for the help, Lorne!" She shouted over her shoulder, actually managing to sound grateful through her unhappiness.

The green demon rubbed his eyes and reached for a bottle of Perrier. If Dawn wasn't going to talk to Willow, he was.

Willow was a bit surprised to see Lorne at her door; the club was just opened for the night and he was typically tied to the place until closing. "Uh, hi," She murmured as she let him in. "Where's Buffy?"

"At the club," Lorne said with a smile. "Mixing drinks." Actually, she was mangling drinks, but no one there dared to criticize her bartending skills. She was the Slayer; if she thought a Bloody Mary contained strawberries, it did.

"So..." Willow began. She was about to ask why Lorne was in her room when he told her. Rather baldly, in fact.

"You know, I thought you were recovered. Years of therapy, counseling, supportive friends," Lorne said, his face hardening. "You really had us going, Willow. Maybe you even convinced yourself."

"What are you talking about?" She asked confusedly. "I did recover."

"Really?" Lorne spat. "Then why are you torturing Dawn?"

"Torturing?" Willow echoed. "I'm not-"

Lorne began to pace. "No, you're not torturing her. You're just avoiding her, being mean to her, belittling her, ignoring every smile, every look... "

Willow snarled. "I am not doing that to her!"

"Oh?" Lorne snorted. "Then what do you call running away whenever she's alone with you, or pretending not to notice when she offers to take you places?" Lorne sighed. "Willow, you didn't even extend the courtesy of telling her you weren't interested."

Willow flinched. "I-"

"Of course," Lorne continued. "You aren't not interested. But that's the problem, isn't it? You're interested, you like her, and you're afraid. Afraid that she'll leave you when you screw up or that she'll make a mistake and you'll feel beholden to throw her out? That's Oz. Or that she'll up and die on you? That's Tara. No place for Dawn in your life now, is there?"

Willow looked murderous. "You-"

But Lorne just interrupted her again. "Go talk to her. Tonight. Either you tell her straight out that you admire and respect her but you'll never want to be with her; or you tell her you admire and respect her and that you think it's worth a shot." He turned and walked out of the room, letting the door slam behind him.

The redhead stared at the door for several minutes. Her pride wanted to give Lorne a good going- over for his presumption. The rest of her mind told her he was right; she'd been treating Dawn poorly and she knew it. Hells, everyone knew it; others had mentioned it on occasion in the past. They'd always taken a very oblique path, though. Lorne had lobbed his poniards with startling accuracy and even though it hurt, she couldn't help but agree. She and Dawn had to talk.

Willow just didn't know what to say.

Buffy was busy searching through the bar's tiny freezer for some sort of Alganthagn liquor, so she didn't hear the place fall eerily silent until she stood up. "Something happen?"

"Lady wants a martini," The bartender said quietly as he moved to mix the drink, gesturing towards a human standing at the bar. Buffy glanced over, eyes widening. Lilah. The club abruptly returned to it's normal noise level, albeit with a weird artificiality. Everyone was listening.

"I'll get it," Buffy said firmly. She took the vodka from Dale and set it down, reaching for a glass. She made a killer martini. It choked even the strongest drinker.

"Well, well," Lilah purred. "I never thought I'd ever have the Slayer at my beck and call."

Buffy ignored the jab. Lilah didn't scare her as much as she used to. The past few years hadn't been easy on the woman; as Wolfram & Harts fortunes soured, so did hers. It showed in every detail; where Lilah had once possessed a hard, sharp-edged and somewhat sleazy beauty that matched her personality, now she was haggard, drawn and brittle. Buffy wondered if she'd shatter should she fall down. "Martini," Buffy said calmly as she sat the drink in front of the lawyer.

Lilah smiled coldly as she picked up the drink. "So how's business these days? Still losing money?"

"Still doing the taxes," Buffy replied. "Anything else? Because there are a lot of customers behind you."

"Ah," Lilah sighed. "I simply must compliment Lorne on his taste in employees. So cheerful!" She stepped away to find an empty table elsewhere in the club.

"What did do?" Dale asked quietly.

"I made her a martini," Buffy replied.

"What did you do?" Dale said again.

"The usual."

The bartender sighed. "Buffy, I love you like a sister. You make Lorne smile real smiles. But I gotta tell you, there's no cinnamon schnapps in a martini."

"Says you," Buffy retorted.

"Says what?" Lorne asked as he surprised the pair.

"Dale said there wasn't any cinnamon schnapps in a martini," Buffy pouted.

"Does this have something to do with the evil lawyer in the corner?" Lorne inquired.

"Only tangentially," Buffy replied.

Lorne nodded. "I figured. Honey, Lilah's martinis *always* have cinnamon schnapps in them."

"They do?" The Slayer asked brightly.

"Of course. Unless, that is, they've got tequila in them instead," He confirmed.

"She's not looking good," Buffy commented, changing the subject.

"You're concerned for her health?" The demon asked curiously.

"Only as it relates to Wolfram & Hart. She's like a walking, talking thermometer for the place. My diagnosis? They're on the edge," Buffy told her fianc,. "They don't have the money or power to be careful, and that suit has got to be at least two years old. Maybe three."

Lorne laughed softly at Buffy's analysis. "Want me to get her to sing?"

"What will it do to you?" She asked.

Lorne shrugged. "Migraine?"

"Nah, let her have the headache," Buffy replied. "My martinis are a never-fail migraine machine."

Lorne nodded and moved away to greet his customers, careful to avoid the lawyer.

Willow stood outside Dawn's door, still unsure of what to say. To tell the truth, she hadn't made her mind up yet on whether even talking to Dawn was a good idea.

"Willow?"

The redhead looked up. She'd been standing outside Dawn's door so long the younger woman had come out to go downstairs. "Hi!" Willow said in a chirpy voice.

"You, ah, need something?" Dawn asked cautiously. Willow looked... weird.

Willow bit her lip. "Er, can we, ah, talk?"

"This martini is the worst I've ever had," Lilah slurred as she shoved the empty glass into Buffy's face. "Make another, without the *schnapps*."

Buffy took the glass, managing not to smirk at Lilah's drunkenness. She'd have never figured the woman to have such a low tolerance for alcohol. One drink and she was three sheets into the wind. As Lilah had requested, Buffy didn't add any schnapps. But the Slayer wasn't sure that Lorne had been serious about the tequila either. Buffy shuddered. Martinis were so... boring. Just vodka with an olive, waved near a bottle of vermouth. But there was a bottle of coconut rum, and that sounded lovely. Buffy liked coconut.

"We're onto you, you know," Lilah muttered while Buffy mixed the drink. "We know what you're up to."

Buffy glanced over. "What's that, Lilah?"

Lilah smirked. "Cute. Still doing the innocent look. Doesn't work well, now that you're schtupping the green thing." The lawyer bent over the bar. "What we know is that you're trying to get your greedy little paws into our money. S'posed to come here and tell you to fuck off," Lilah continued, still slurring her words. "Least, that's what *Gavin* told me to do. What the fuck does he know? Little cocksucker."

Buffy slid the drink in front of Lilah, who threw it back in one gulp. "Damn. I hate coconut. Can't you just pour vodka in a glass? What's so damned difficult about that?" Lilah muttered. "Another."

This time Dale made the drink, obediently using only vodka. Granted, it was the worst stuff he could find, but it was pure vodka. "Do you really think she should have another? She's awfully wasted already," Buffy whispered.

"It's the drugs," Dale murmured.

"Drugs?" Buffy echoed. "What drugs?"

"Antidepressants. I can smell them," He explained. "They lower tolerance in some humans."

"Where's my fucking martini?" Lilah growled. Dale handed the drink over. She grabbed it and spun away.

"Uh, is she going where I think she's going?" Buffy said frantically. "'Cause if she is, we're in deep trouble."

"Maybe the liquor will mellow her some," The bartender tried.

"What's she gonna sing?" Buffy asked Lorne, who had joined them at the bar.

"What's who going to sing, baby?" Lorne inquired.

"Lilah," Buffy replied. "Maybe you should sit down."

Lorne took one look at the unsteady figure on the stage and took that good advice to heart. "Promise me you'll take me somewhere safe afterwards?"

"Of course," Buffy swore.

"We want to multiply, are you gonna do it? I know you're qualified..."

"Oh gods," Lorne whined, eyes watering.

"Some like it hot, and some sweat when the heat is on..."

Buffy patted his shoulder consolingly. She knew it wasn't what he was seeing that had him doubled over in pain. Not only was Lilah an atrocious singer, but she'd picked an equally bad song. Poor Lorne. Then again, he *had* let it go into rotation.

*****
Part 86:

"Fran!" Wesley shouted, chasing the toddler down the sidewalk. He caught up to the giggling little boy right next to a newspaper stand, where the werewolf was sniffing a stack of papers. "I thought I told you to *not* run away," Wesley chided as he picked the boy up.

Fran shrugged in a very good imitation of Oz. "Sowwy."

"Let's go back and find Fred. I'm sure she's worried about you," The faun murmured.

"Nah," Fran disagreed, pulling a licorice candy from his pocket. "Fwed's got Thawia."

"And Thalia is worried about you too," Wesley replied. "Look, see them? Just standing there, looking for you."

Fran glanced over. "Gwapes. Der wooking at gwapes."

Wesley winced at Fran's pronunciation. All of the children, to one degree or another, mangled their l and r sounds. Oh, sometimes they got it right. But the rest of the time... "Let's make sure they're getting good grapes, then."

"What an adorable child."

Wesley's head turned slowly. A tall, distinguished-looking older lady was studying him and Fran. "Excuse me?"

"Your child. He is quite beautiful," The lady said. Wesley noticed Fred and Thalia joining them, bag of grapes in hand.

"Thank you," Wesley said softly, preparing to turn away. The fact that Fran obviously disliked the woman made the faun wary.

"And this must be..." She continued when she saw Fred. "Your wife. And another lovely child. Twins?"

Fred watched the older lady with suspicious eyes. Thalia was pulling at her hand, trying to get her to move. Fred felt nervous, almost scared. The woman smelled... off. Perhaps that was what was bothering the kids. "Honey? We need to get going. Work, you know."

"Yes," Wesley murmured. He nodded to the woman and joined Fred in retreat.

"Is it just me or was that..." Fred began.

"Fran did not like her," Wesley noted.

"Neither did I," Fred agreed. "I felt it too."

"Felt what?" Wesley inquired. He hadn't particularly liked the woman, but it was only Fran's odd response that had made him practically run away.

"Something off. It made my hackles... even though I don't have them right now," Fred murmured.

Wesley quickly came to the conclusion that the woman wasn't the least bit humans. No matter how evil, simple human beings didn't evoke that kind of a response.

...

"Where is she?" Oz asked flatly. Wes and Fred had just finished describing the eerie woman they'd run across at the market. No one was happy about the incident; they didn't need any kind of attention, supernatural or otherwise. To everyone's surprise it was Oz and not Cordelia or Gunn who had the most extreme response to the news. He was obviously furious, something they almost never saw in the placid wolf.

Fred shrugged. "We left her at the market. I mean, were we supposed to ask for her schedule or something?"

Oz growled at his omega. Flip was not the tone of voice to use in this kind of discussion. "You could have followed her." If Fred had followed the woman, they would know where she was. Now all they had to go on was a stale scent and some scant memories. Such shoddy work on Fred's part made their job that much more difficult.

"Ah. And who, pray tell, would have cared for Thalia and Fran?" Wesley said sharply.

The alpha wolf glared at Wesley, growling even harder. The faun had only honorary status in the pack; he had no voice in its business. "Fred should have followed her. You could have taken care of both cubs."

Cordelia stood up, not liking the way her alpha was handling the situation. Yes, they were a pack, but they weren't just werewolves. Wil, Angel, Xander and Wesley all had a place amongst them, but with the exception of Wesley, they were staying out of the conversation. Oz had made it abundantly clear that he was in charge. "The kids are fine," She told him bluntly. "And we'll probably never see her again. I think Fred did the right thing, Oz. She protected my girl and got everyone home safe."

"She's still out there," Oz grumbled. "And could come back." He began to pace, eyes flashing. His pack was in danger. Someone was targeting the young, the weakest of them. He had a responsibility to protect the little ones, and that couldn't be accomplished by sitting at home. No, a hunt had to be called. There were...things that hunted werewolves, fed off them. Killed his kind for sport. Such atrocities would not be visited upon Cordelia's cubs. There was only one way to ensure that, however.

"So we'll keep our eyes open for the next six months or so, until we leave," Gunn reasoned. He was worried for his children, probably more so than Oz. But he could find it within himself to tamp down the urge to go after the woman because he knew it wouldn't help. That didn't mean he wasn't going to find some inanimate object upon which to vent his rage and fears. He just wasn't going to go terrorizing all of Syracuse because he felt like he couldn't protect his kids.

"We find her now," Oz demanded. "And we get rid of this threat." Everyone froze. That was a direct order from the pack's alpha. Oz was not going to back down; nor would he accept any insubordination. Wesley and Xander shared a look. This was the first time Oz had demanded the obedience of his pack for anything serious. In the past, his orders had been mostly for keeping the peace. This, though, was different. He was ordering Fred, Cordelia and Gunn to join him in a hunt. One with deadly consequences. They had no way to protest this sudden decision; all they could do was watch as their lovers went off into the night.

Wil wanted very badly to stand up, to say something. He didn't like the idea of the pack going after this woman. After all, there was every possibility she was just another woman, admiring a child. Odd people abounded, and not all of them were evil. The blonde said nothing, however. The pack was part of their larger group, but Oz was unquestionably its alpha. Wil had no say in the group's leadership, and in Oz's current state he might just get chewed on for speaking up. A quick glance at Angel told him his Sire was thinking the same thing. It was agonizing.

Gunn and Cordelia shared a look. Their alpha had given a direct order. As one, they stood, followed by Fred. For them, there was no question. They would hunt. Consequences would come later. "Watch them," Cordelia murmured to Wil as the pack moved towards the back of the house. Moments later, they were gone in one of the cars.

Wil and Angel immediately moved to Wesley and Xander's sides. The two were catatonic; watching their lovers disappear, knowing that in all likelihood that woman-thing was going to die, was more than they could handle. When Wil reached for Xander, the Raphe let him. The vampire cradled Xander gently, fearing that this incident was going to cause severe damage to the boy and Oz's relationship. Xander knew who and what Oz was, true. But he'd just watched his lover command three of their friends to ruthlessly hunt down and kill someone. Three friends who didn't want to go.

"Will they come back?" Wesley asked Angel. The dark vampire simply sat next to the ex-Watcher, knowing that at the moment Wes didn't need the same kind of physical comfort that Xander did.

"Yes," Angel murmured. "They'll all be fine."

Wesley stared at the floor. Fred had just followed Oz out into the night, practically without question. Once the order had been made, she'd fallen into step. That was part of being in the pack, he supposed. More so for Fred, who was omega. Wesley was furious; mostly at Oz. How dare that skinny young pup order *his* Fred to go off and kill something?

"Xan?"

All four men looked over at the doorway. Siobhan was standing there, thumb poised next to her mouth. In her other hand was a corner of a blanket, the rest of which trailed behind her. Dark, soft curly hair stuck out like a fuzzy halo around the sleepy child's head. Xander reached out for the little girl, who wiped her eyes and climbed up into the Raphe's lap. Wil shifted a bit so that Xander could comfortably hold the child.

"Thought you were sleeping," Xander murmured into Siobhan's hair. She curled up against him, burying her face in his shirt.

"Thirsty," She said in a whisper. "An' Fran's crying."

Angel glanced at Wesley, who was already getting up. The dark vampire followed him into the children's bedroom, where indeed they found Fran weeping in his bed. Wesley gently woke the young boy, who jerked away until he saw who it was. Fran then reached for Wesley, holding up trembling hands. The faun lifted his charge up, cuddling him in a warm blanket and warmer embrace. He walked out quietly, leaving Angel to deal with the other three children, who were by now awake and staring at the vampire with curious, dark eyes.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Wesley asked the little boy as he carried him back to the living room. Fran nodded, wiping his teary face on Wesley's shirt.

"What did you dream about?" The faun continued as he settled down in a rocking chair. Fran loved being rocked; as soon as Wesley began to move the boy relaxed. He waited patiently; Fran would tell him what had him so scared when he felt ready.

Angel walked in a few minutes later, three werewolf cubs in his arms. Wil grinned as Mischa squirmed and struggled to get down. Eventually Angel let him, just so that he could keep hold of Julian and Thalia. Xander moved slightly away from Wil so that Mischa could take up residence in his usual place--draped over Wil's legs with his feet propped on the vampire's chest. Angel settled down in a side chair, bundling Thalia and Julian together. It looked to be a long night for all of them.

...

Gunn was about to ask Oz what the hell he was thinking when the alpha wolf shot him a look. *The* look, the one that told him to shut up, sit back, and take his orders. So that's just what Gunn did, joining Fred in the back seat. For the purposes of this hunt, Cordelia was Oz's hunt-partner, since she had seniority. Oz drove them back to the market, following Fred's whispered directions. When they got there, the pack filed out of the car and started investigating.

Fred was the only one of them who'd actually seen the woman, or smelt her, so she was at least temporarily in charge. "Do you sense her?" Oz asked the young woman.

She frowned and expanded her sense of smell. If she concentrated really hard, she could *almost* pick up that odd, cold sensation. The one that wasn't a smell so much as a feeling. "Maybe," She murmured, taking a few steps forward. The others followed her closely, watching her every move.

Fred ignored them as the tracked the scent. If she blocked out everything else, it was a lot easier. Within a few minutes she had led them out of the marketplace and towards a residential street. Gunn walked just behind her and to the side. Oz and Cordelia watched from farther back.

"Wait," Fred said suddenly. They halted in front of a rather average-looking white clapboard house.

"What?" Gunn asked.

Fred shivered. The smell/feeling was strong here, almost enough to make her skin crawl. "Here."

Oz frowned and inhaled deeply. He just didn't detect anything, and that worried him. "Are you sure?"

The young woman turned furious, indignant eyes on him. She didn't want to be here, doing this, but she was. How dare he question her? "Yes," She spat, nearly growling.

"Ah, you. From the market."

The werewolves spun around. A stately woman, silver hair glinting in the light of the half moon, stood before them, just inside the property line. Oz looked at her briefly. Then it hit him, and he knew why only Fred had been able to follow the scent. She was a witch. A very specific kind of witch, one who used the energies and bodies of were-creatures in her work. He'd heard of them, even run into one before. Fred could track her because the woman had marked her. Had she marked the children? If so, she could do great damage to them, even from afar.

Oz growled and stepped forward, although he remained out of reach of the witch. "You marked her."

The woman smiled. "Perhaps."

"You can't have my pack," Oz grated out.

A silvery laugh answered him. "Oh, can't I? And what will you do, young man? The moon, she is only half yours tonight."

Oz's grin was malicious. This witch was a very powerful one, but it was obvious she'd not used any of his kind of werewolves. Ones who'd worked to change their relationship with the moon, who were no longer tied to it as others were. Or perhaps she preferred other were-creatures, but had found his pack convenient. Either way, she'd just exposed a fatal weakness. She thought that they couldn't change, couldn't tap into the bulk of their strength. His kind was also easier to control in human form. If they shifted, she'd be hard pressed to try to control them all, although by now she'd marked all four of them. All it took was eye contact.

Oz felt the first tendril of cold power try to wrap around his mind and gave the subvocal signal to the pack. It was time to deal with this thing. As one, they shifted, heedless of their destroyed clothing. The change gave Oz a reprieve from the witch's machinations, and a glance at Fred told him that she too was relieved. The witch, however, was not so happy. She'd begun to back up towards her house, chanting all the while.

Gunn leapt forward, catching the hem of her dress before a spell knocked him away. He succeeded in dragging her back with him, keeping her from gaining her porch. Cordelia came from the side, ignoring a blinding flash of light to bite down on the witch's arm. The elderly lady fell hard and was immediately covered by Oz and Fred. Gunn, too, had recovered and joined the others.

The witch never stood a chance. She managed to gain control of Fred once, turning the smallest werewolf against Gunn. But she couldn't control all four of them, not when they were all determined to hurt her. When Oz broke her right arm, tearing off a huge chunk of flesh, she lost control of Fred. The young woman blinked, wondering why she was trying to snap Gunn's neck. Then she shrugged and returned to the lady. The witch was their primary concern; she'd threatened them so her life was forfeit.

Cordelia and Gunn made very sure the woman wouldn't be able to hurt any of them, ever. Her eyes were quickly mutilated by them as Oz and Fred rent her flesh. Blood pooled thickly on the ground as bit by bit the witch disappeared completely. Scarcely ten minutes after they first encountered the witch, the only thing left of her was a single black leather shoe.

Oz howled softly, calling the others back to him. They quickly shifted back and pulled on their ragged garments before loping down the street, hoping no police drove by. They were barely decent.

The drive back to their house was strained and quiet. What they'd done weighed heavily on their minds and no one knew what to say. When they got home, Oz led the pack back into the house. They found Xander, Wil, Angel and Wesley in the living room, all curled around the children. None of the adults were asleep, but all the children were.

Angel shot a questioning glance at Oz. The green-haired werewolf nodded once.

It was done.

*****