Chapter Thirteen

Back at the Hyperion later that night, Buffy and Cordelia recalled the events of that afternoon.

"And I was feeding Anne--"

"I was changing Connor's diaper--"

"When all of a sudden, poof! Naked girl in our kitchen!"

"And suddenly the diaper didn't seem to want to fit."

Spike rubbed his temples. "One at a time, please?"

Buffy huffed. "Nothing seemed weird, that's the truly wiggy thing. I mean, one minute, cute little baby, the next minute, girl as old as me. Didn't really make much sense."

Anne and Connor whispered in a corner. A genuine smile crossed Anne's face at one of Connor's comments, and Spike growled softly. "Peaches, your son is putting the moves on my baby girl," he stated.

Angel's attention was drawn to the couple. He stared on wistfully at the very familiar looking pair, remembering for a moment a time when he and Buffy had looked like that. He shook off the brooding sensations and rolled his eyes. "Looks more like they're coming on to each other, Spike," he replied.

"I don't like it," Spike said, frowning. "She isn't even two weeks old. Your son is a cradle robber."

Buffy sighed.

"Hello? Before a fistfight starts and ruins my new shoes, I'd like to remind you of the new prophecy that says WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE?!" Cordelia exclaimed. Connor and Anne looked up briefly, then continued to flirt.

"We're not all going to die, Cordelia," Buffy said, attempting to reassure her now hyperventilating friend.

Cordelia held up the translation of the scroll she had been deciphering with Wesley's help. She handed it to Buffy, then flopped down onto a couch with an enormous sigh. "Read it for yourself."

Buffy scanned it. Infant to adult in less than a week, the Sword of Rachmad is what they seek, to open the gates without the Key, and set all evil on this mortal plain free. "We're all going to die," Buffy realized.

"Not good, not good, not good," Angel chanted as he began to wear thin the area of his rug on which he had been pacing for the last two hours. He was deep into Think Mode, and he had so far come up with nothing. He had never even heard of the Sword of Rachmad.

Sure, there was the old sword he had discovered in the mansion after his return, the one that he, without a soul, had used in battle with Buffy, but that couldn't possibly be... could it? "Nah," he said out loud, making a mental note to check it out later.

"Not good, not good, not good..."

"Anne, we're going home," Buffy called to her daughter.

The brunette pouted. "Aww, mom, do we have to?"

"Listen to your mum, ducks," Spike said, pulling on his duster. "We'll come back, don't worry."

Anne sighed, then stood. "See you, Connor," she said softly as she left.

Connor smiled. "Later."

Cordelia caught the wisftul look on his face as he gazed after her. "Why is this so familiar?" she asked. Suddenly she had flashbacks to her high school days. The first time she had seen Angel, he had approached Buffy with much the same look on his face. "Oh, no. No, no, no."

She ran into the office. "Angel," she began. "You do realize that your son and the spawn of Buffy look at each other the same way you and Buffy used to look at each other?" she asked.

Angel paused his pacing momentarily. "Yeah, so?" he asked, shrugging.

"So hypothetically, if they boink, neither of them is going to go evil, are they?"

"Shit."

Anne awoke later that night feeling very confused. She stood and pulled on the clothes that she had been wearing earlier that day, then walked out of the apartment. Later, onlookers would say that she had a dazed expression on her face as she walked stiffly down the street.

Meanwhile, at the Hyperion, Connor awoke, rolled out of bed, and dressed. He walked down the stairs to the lobby, where he stood with his legs spread and his arms extended. As the doors opened, he threw back his head. When he lowered his head once more, his green eyes glowed ferally. Across the lobby from him stood Anne, her own eyes glowing blue.

"The Sword of Rachmad," they said as one, their voices blending perfectly. "The Sword of Rachmad is what we seek." Neither of them noticed when they began to levitate, hovering closer and closer to one another. "We must become one, and we shall find the sword."

A purple glow enveloped Connor and Anne, drawing them together, melting their clothing away. They were soon pressed together, and as they joined, Connor let out a loud howl that awoke Angel. The ensouled vampire pulled on a pair of black pants and ran from his bedroom, stopping short when he reached the staircase. He stood staring in disturbed fascination at the mid-air mating that was taking place in the lobby. The front doors of the Hyperion swung open as Buffy and Spike breezed in, stopping when they realized that Angel was staring at something above them. They looked up and saw their daughter in a carnal embrace with Connor, hovering a good twenty feet in the air.

"Bloody hell," Spike said as he watched his baby girl get deflowered. He stalked up the stairs to his grandsire and punched him in the face. Angel's head snapped back with the force of the blow. "Oi, Peaches, your son is taking advantage of my baby girl."

As Spike spoke, the two nude levitators began to spasm and it was obvious that they were climaxing. The purple glow surrounding them began to fade and they began to lower to the floor. They were still intimately joined as they touched the floor, and when Spike, Angel, and Buffy approached them, Connor growled loudly.

His eyes were white as he stated, "The Sword of Rachmad. I seek the Sword." His voice was deep and harsh, as if it were not one but many voices. His head whipped around to Angel. "You have it in your posession. You will surrender the Sword, or you will die the death of a thousand deaths."

"Uh-oh..." Buffy said softly. "I think they're possessed..."

"No shit," Angel mumbled. "I knew it."

"Knew what, Peaches?" Spike asked as the three of them backed slowly away from the naked couple.

"The sword. It's the one that I fought Buffy with."

Spike's eyes widened. "You mean when you wanted to end the world and I cracked you in the back with a crowbar?"

Angel winced visibly at the memory of the metal bar connecting with his spine. "That's the one."

"How do we destroy a sword?" Buffy asked.

"You melt it. Do you have a boiler room in this place?" Spike asked Angel.

"Yeah," Angel replied. "Basement, on the left. I'll get the sword and meet you downstairs."

Buffy and Spike hurried down the stairs. "This is a little creepy," she said as she walked through the cobwebbed basement, clutching Spike's hand.

The sounds of a fistfight carried down to them, and then someone came down the stairs. They looked behind them to see a tall, broad figure with dark hair, wielding a sword. Buffy sighed visibly. "God, Angel, what happened up there?"

Spike's nostrils flared, and his eyes widened. "That's not Angel," he whispered harshly.

"Very good deduction, Spikey, my boy," the figure stated smoothly.

"Fuck," Buffy groaned. "You know, I really don't have time for this... Angelus."

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