Part 1.... 

Angel came slowly into wakefulness, blinking slightly in the semi-darkness of the room. A single lamp burned dimly in a corner. He could feel the sun setting, the urge to rise shrilling along his nerves, coursing through his body, the urge to rise and feed. It always woke him; there was no need for anything else. Always the same. His mouth curved in a grimace as he fought to ignore the gnawing pain deep inside. 
He carefully swung long legs over the edge of the bed, rising to stretch muscles cold from sleep. The pale light from the lamp highlighted the muscles beneath taut, smooth skin as he moved forwards and into the bathroom, clicking on the bright light and moving towards the sink. He rested his hands on the edge, looking into the mirror. Dark, haunted eyes stared back at him, eyes that had seen things he didn’t want to remember. Abruptly he looked away, running the tap, splashing cold water onto his face, momentarily breaking away from the memories that careened through his mind. They always did. 

* * * * 

He emerged from the shower, water beading his powerful shoulders and chest, towelling roughly at his hair. Muscles flexed and moved beneath smooth, pale skin, making the dark tattoo on one shoulder blade stand out even more; the wings of an Angel. To remind him that he was a demon with the face of a heavenly creature. He sighed and roughly pulled on his clothes, everything in dark shades of black or blue, and headed impatiently across the apartment to the kitchen. To the fridge. 

He opened the door, white light spilling out, staring in at the tubs ranked neatly on the shelves. White plastic, the dark liquid inside barely visible - but he could smell it, even through the containers. Heavy, coppery sweet - the scent of blood. He reached in and lifted a tub from the fridge, watching the liquid move sluggishly against the plastic, thick and dark and moved to heat it up.  Cold blood was no good to a vampire…

* * * 

Angel tilted his head to one side, setting the mug down quickly as he heard the sound of footsteps outside his door. The liquid slopped over the side, and he stared, fascinated by the warm crimson pool spreading out on the table. The door opened, smoothly and silently, and Buffy stepped inside. 

He gazed at her, watching the way the dim light from the dusk outside moulded itself around her golden hair and skin. “Hey,” he said softly, feeling his mouth curve in a smile, beginning to stand up. 

She started, and he realised that she couldn’t see him. Not in the darkness. Feeling behind him, he snapped on a light, flooding the room with dim golden radiance. Buffy came to an abrupt halt, looking at the spilled blood and the half empty mug. Her eyes lifted to his, seeing his changed face, the demon side of him, and she drew in a startled breath. “Angel? Are you alright?” 

“I’m - I’m fine,” he answered. “Just - I was hungry. That’s all.” As Buffy watched, he swayed slightly, lifting a hand in front of him, looking down at the thick spill of crimson on the table top. His eyes burned greenly, the ridges of his face shadowed by the dim light, but enough to see his parted lips and fangs.

Part 2.... 

He licked his lips. Strange, the heady scent from the blood. He could almost see it, a thick scarlet trail in the air, rising towards him, wrapping round, covering him. Drawing him in. Everything red…… Blood. Pulsing, quicker and quicker. A heartbeat. Not his; then whose? Nothing but the blood. Red and thick, sweet in his mouth, flowing. A sound, then. A moan. Not him. Just the blood. The blood, sweet and singing through him. Alive again. Blood, all and everything. Nothing else. Blood… … … 

Angel screamed and wrenched backwards, dropping the girl cradled in his arms. Warm blood flowed down her neck in ribbons, staining her golden hair, bright against her pale skin. Her breath hitched in shallow gasps and her eyes were glazed. He crouched over her, reached out a shaking hand to touch her soft hair. 

“Buffy? I’ll get help…… oh, God, Buffy, I’m - I don’t know what happened!” He was babbling when her eyes focused on him. She whispered something he couldn’t hear, so he leaned down, dipping his head to her mouth. Trying not to smell the blood on her, trying not to think about the taste. “Just…….a…little…..longer. Just a little more,” she gasped. “Then……you.” He shook his head, confused. Weakly, she reached up and grasped his head in her hands. She turned her face away. And pulled him down. To feed. 

He knew when the moment approached. Her heartbeat slowed, faltering in its steady rhythm. The beats staggered now. Grew fainter. He let her go then, looking into her blue eyes, glassy, seeing the knowledge of what she wanted. “I’m not afraid, Angel. I’ll be with you,” she whispered almost inaudibly. He lowered his wrist to her then, gasping with the sudden sharp pain as she fastened onto it. And drank. 

* * * * * 

She lay on his bed, tangled amongst the sheets, an arm flung out to the side, clothes dark against the white linen. He watched over her, waiting for her to wake. To rise. She’d feel the hunger even more than he did, being a newborn. He could feel the shrill of sunset beginning along his nerves. She’d wake, and soon. And he would have to control her. The memory of what had happened was dim in his mind. He tried to think clearly. He’d been drinking. Pig’s blood. She’d come and he’d spilled some. And then - redness. Everything distorted, clouded. The smell and taste of blood in the air. And Buffy, asking for - asking to be made into a demon.  A thing, cursed, unable to see the sunlight - ever - a creature of darkness. 

She stirred then, eyes opening as she felt the call of the sun sinking and the nightworld that would take its place.  She sat up and stretched slowly, looking at him, staring as the hunger started, feeling her face change. With a trembling hand, she reached up. Felt the ridges and the sharpness of her teeth. Her voice quivered. 

“Angel?” 

“I’m here,” he said gently. “Are you alright?” 

She nodded uncertainly, then smiled tremulously. “I - I’m hungry. I feel strange. But strong.” She glanced round the room, wide eyed. “And I’m still - still the Slayer,” she faltered. “I feel it. Inside. Demon and Slayer strength. Combined. The next Slayer hasn’t been called. There’s just - just me.” She looked back at him, face smoothing as she Changed, frowning. “Surely I should be - just a vampire? I can’t Slay. Not now.” 

Angel stared at her and spoke slowly. “Buffy, I think we need to go. And see Giles.” 

Part 3 ... 

It was full dark when they crossed Sunnydale. Buffy had drunk at the apartment, quieting her appetite briefly. He knew the hunger was never truly satisfied, but it was a start. Angel hadn’t wanted to risk her amongst humans; the smell of blood and life everywhere would have been overwhelming. Was, for any newborn vampire. But she was sated for the moment, and would be until they’d seen Giles. He hoped. Odd, though, he thought. She didn’t act the way the others had, when they’d been made. Drusilla had been mad, but Spike hadn’t been this way. Nor had any of the others he’d sired. But then, he’d never had a soul before, when the act of Change had been carried out... 

Giles was surprised by the pounding on his door. Even more surprised when, as he got to it, it fell to one side in a drifting cloud of splinters to reveal Buffy, looking guilty, and Angel, standing behind her, looking even guiltier. “Ooops. Sorry, Giles.” 

“Buffy? Angel? What on earth are you doing here at this time of night?” He stood aside to let them in, but they just stood there and looked at him. 

At last, Buffy said softly, “Can we come in, Giles?” 

He frowned irritably at her, waving his hand to indicate they should come forward. “Yes, of course you can come in. You don’t usually wait to be asked, actually.” 

Buffy brushed past him and moved to the centre of the room, standing with her back to him. Angel ducked his head, apologetically, Giles thought, and followed her. Giles peered out through the gap where his door had been, shrugged in resignation and moved after them, absently taking off his glasses and polishing them. “So what can I do for you both? It’s not the end of the world again, I would have noticed that,” he said, “but it must be fairly urgent. Terribly nasty demons or some such on patrol, I suppose?” 

Buffy turned. And Giles felt his heart freeze as he looked at her face. At a vampire. 

“Oh dear God.” The exclamation was wrenched from him as he instinctively took a step backwards and sagged against a table for support. “Buffy?” 

They stood, frozen in place, staring at one another. Shock and horror warred with one another on Giles face as he stared at her. But - well, it was Buffy. Demon though she now was, he still couldn’t quite bring himself to believe that she would hurt him. 

“I failed you. Let you be taken.” Giles whispered eventually. His voice trailed away as he closed his eyes, the pain rising inside him. “Let you be turned. I should have been a better Watcher. I could have helped you.” 

Buffy sighed and tossed her head slightly, face smoothing out as she Changed. “Giles, we need your help. I asked for this. I want to be with Angel. This was the only way it could ever be. But - something - went wrong. I’m still the Slayer.” 

Giles stared at her in stunned disbelief, his hand rising. “You mean………Angel did this to you? You wanted to be a demon, a thing of evil, you,” his voice started to rise, now with anger as well as shock, “chose to ignore your destiny because you’re in love with a vampire?!” 

Buffy crossed the room in one swift bound, her hand closing on Giles’ shoulder before he even realised she’d moved. “Giles, you’re not listening to me!” she said forcefully. “Listen now. Watch my lips. I AM STILL THE SLAYER. I have vampire strength - and I still have Slayer strength.” 

“But - but you can’t be, you can’t have,” he stammered, staring at her. “You’re a vampire, Buffy! How can you still be the Slayer?” 

Buffy smiled grimly, forcing back the Change she could feel starting with an effort of will. She was getting hungry again, and how sweet was the scent of blood from Giles, how rapid the pulse in his throat…… she wrenched her gaze away from him, looking instead into his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” she replied. “That’s your job. Find out. Has this ever happened before? Have any other Slayers ever been turned?” She gestured to the books, as always piled haphazardly on all available surfaces. “Look in your books. There must be something!” She paused then, and added, “It was weird, though. Ask Angel.” 

Giles turned to look at Angel, who stood silently to one side, awkward and uncomfortable. Although his face was expressionless, still something in his eyes was clear enough that Angel lowered his gaze, turning his face slightly to one side. 

“Well?” Giles voice was cold, filled with contempt. “What happened that you - decided to start snacking on people again? That you decided to start with the Slayer, the only hope this world has against evil?” 

Angel shook his head wearily. “I don’t know. I was at the table, I was drinking - pigs blood, if you must know - when Buffy arrived. Then - everything changed. I could feel the blood rising up, I could see it in the air. Red, rising like smoke from the table. Wrapping round me. Warm.” His gaze met Giles’, then. “I - came to with Buffy in my arms. And that’s when she asked. To be - Changed.” 

Giles frowned. “Rising? From the table?” Buffy circled the room restlessly as Giles moved towards his books, lifting a few volumes as he searched for the one he wanted. His face was thoughtful. Buffy watched him, wondering at the calm that seemed to have come over him. A couple of minutes ago, she’d have bet on it that he’d be leaping at her with a stake. Now? He was Research-Guy. Amused, she shook her head. Until his next words. 

“Buffy, what are you going to tell the others? Willow, and, and Xander. How are you going to tell them………what you’ve done? What you’ve asked for?” 

Buffy stopped pacing, and looked at him, though he paid no attention as he flipped carefully through pages. “I won’t tell them. They don’t need to know.” Giles raised his head at that, face incredulous. 

“You think they won’t notice? That you suddenly don’t go to school, that you only come out at night? That you suddenly have a craving for blood? Buffy, be realistic. You have to tell them. They may be able to help us. To help you. To find out what happened and what made Angel,” his lip curled on the name, “feed on you.” 

Buffy shook her head stubbornly and as he returned to the book, Giles saw Angel move over to her, murmuring gently. Reluctantly, eventually, she nodded. “Giles? Ok. I’ll tell them, you’re right, they have to know. But you have to get them to come here. I’ll only tell them if you’re here,” she paused, aware that Giles was staring at her. A hand came up to touch her face. “What? Did I do it again? I didn’t feel anything……” 

“Buffy, have you realised………,” he stopped and turned to Angel. “You can tell. You know. She still has it, doesn’t she? You’ve made a newborn vampire, and she still has her soul.”

Part 4 

The vampire snarled and charged. Effortlessly, Buffy sidestepped and Changed, watching its eyes widen with surprise as she caught it with one hand and flung it against the wall. It lay, twitching, stunned. A moment later all that remained was a pathetic cloud of dust. Buffy sighed. As a Slayer, it had been easy. Now, with combined demon and Slayer strength, there was no word to describe it. 

She turned away from the remains of the kill and wandered idly through the cemetery. They’d called the others over last night, all grumbling about the lateness of the hour. But they’d come. Even Cordelia. They had, she reflected, taken the news pretty well, considering. Willow had had hysterics, Xander had grabbed the nearest cross and had been all for staking her and Angel, and Cordy? Well, Cordy had taken one look and her comment had been, “Well, Buffy, your hair wasn’t great before. What are you gonna do with it now you don’t have a reflection?” 

They were hunched over books now, searching for spells that might have caused the initial feeding. Giles had been muttering about blood spells and vengeance. Angel had come up with a list of enemies who might have cast it - and she’d come patrolling, ready to try out her new vampire-Slayer abilities. She’d already made four kills that night. No humans, though. The temptation to feed was there, she could smell the life rising from the town nearby. She could smell the blood, but she didn’t want to take that option. And if Angel could survive without taking human life, then so could she. 
Giles had also, she remembered, pounced on Angel suddenly. A question that neither of them had expected. The curse, he’d demanded. Was Angel now happy? Why then, was he still Angel? Why had he not become Angelus? Angel hadn’t had an answer, had just shrugged helplessly. Another thing for the gang to find out, if they could. She smiled unconsciously as she wandered aimlessly, and the voice behind her startled her out of her reverie. 

“Buffy? It’s happened, hasn’t it? The Spell of Taros. The Blood God.” 

She turned, surprised, looking at a slim figure stepping out from behind a looming gravestone. Slim, tip-tilted dark eyes, shoulder length dark hair. Pale skin. The woman bore an uncanny resemblance to Jenny Callender, but Buffy could see that it wasn’t her. Her face was serious, unsmiling. 

“I know who you are, and what you are. Slayer and Vampire in one. I know that you will not hurt me - because you are still the Slayer. The demon inside doesn’t control you - yet. I have come to offer you help, if you will accept it. Help for Angel. There are those of us, you know, who feel that the curse has run its course. That Angel has atoned for his crime against us,” she said conversationally.  Buffy had yet to speak, surprise catching her voice. “I am Cara, half but not blood sister to - to Jenny, as you called her. Listen carefully. I have found a spell - that can make Angel human. That can take the demon away from him. It’s dangerous. It must be done with great care and it must be done soon. Before the next full moon. We have two nights left to us.” She paused, watching Buffy, waiting for a response. Buffy just looked at her. She shrugged and continued. “You both have your souls at the moment. But the Spell of Taros - activates after a certain time. It will start soon. If my spell is not carried out before then, you’ll both lose your souls. And then, God help us all.” 

“Who set the Taros thing?” Buffy asked quietly, expression veiled, retaining her human face with difficulty as anger welled up inside her. “I - need to know.” 

Cara shook her head. “Another of my family, I think. One who wishes for the dark powers to roam free, one who wishes to be a vampire himself. I don’t know how or when he cast it, but I know the signs. He has been - dealt with. He will not trouble us again. And I? I have been watching for something like this and I - I come now to offer my help, to make amends.” 

* * * * * 

Buffy stretched, stirring as the sun sank below the hills, feeling the hunger rise along her nerves. She stumbled into the kitchen, could smell the blood, was aware that Angel was looking at her, had already warmed the thick, viscous liquid. Her eyes burned beneath her ridged brow, nothing human in there. Just the demon peering through. “Need………blood,” she rasped. “Hungry.” 

Angel warily handed her the mug of red liquid, watching as she tilted her head back. Runnels of blood ran from the corners of her mouth as she drank. “More.” He shook his head. 

“No. The more you drink - the more you want.” Something was happening. She was losing the Buffy part of her, he could see that. It was beginning. The Spell of Taros, slowly, insidiously. The demon side was starting, slowly, to take over. “You have to control it, Buffy,” he said urgently. “You have to fight it, control the hunger, remember who you are.” The years of control were working well. He could feel the hunger himself, the urge to feed and kill, but he kept it hidden, as always. Deep inside, where the urge could not escape. 

She’d told him about her encounter with the gypsy when she’d returned from the hunt. explained about the spell. That she’d told the woman to come to Giles’ that night, to prepare for the ritual, and if possible, to carry it out. He’d looked at her then, listening to what Cara had told her. Human again. Wondering, he’d touched his face. Human again, after two centuries. Then they’d slept, while the sun burned above them. Till the sun set and it was their time again. 

She shook her head, roughly wiped away the blood from her face, Changed back. “I can do that. We have to get - have to get to Giles. To this woman who says she can help you.”

Part 5 ...
 
Giles had found time at some point during the day to have his door repaired. Carefully, Buffy tapped it, trying not to do any damage. They were all assembled when she and Angel entered. Willow and Xander - looking tired and dishevelled. Cordy, looking - well, like Cordy. Giles in front of them, backing slowly away, one hand slightly behind his back. And the gypsy, standing at a window with her back to the door. The smell of life and blood hit Buffy as soon as they walked into the room, and she growled without even realising it, face Changing as the blood-craving rose in her, the ever present hunger rising. 

Xander, Willow and Cordy scrambled back. Giles looked at her sadly and quickly raised the cross that had been hanging by his side. The gypsy had prepared him for this, that the Spell would be taking effect, bit by bit. That it would slowly strip away what was Buffy, her humanity, and simply leave the demon with her memories. Buffy hissed, face contorting with fear and pain, and twisted away from the cross, hands coming up to shield her face. Angel’s features sharpened with pain, then he gently took her by the shoulders and guided her away, murmuring gently. When she turned back to them, she was in control again. 

She spoke directly to Cara. “Do you have everything you need? Can we get this done?” The gypsy nodded, eyes dark with an emotion that Buffy couldn't identify. “I have spoken to your friends. We are prepared. We can conduct the Ritual. We have everything we need.” 

Buffy and Angel stood to one side, watching as the others prepared. Furniture was pushed to the sides of the room, and a large circle chalked onto the floor. Odd symbols were drawn at points round it, and seven fat black candles placed and lit, flames wavering. Cara directed everything from a slim, tattered volume that she had produced from her coat. Giles and Xander swung silver chains with incense burners, filling the room with scented smoke. Willow and Cordy scattered handfuls of herbs at certain areas of the circle. At Cara’s gesture, Buffy and Angel finally moved into the circle, the gypsy with them, and the Ritual began. "One thing. Before we begin," Cara said. "You must not - under any circumstances - leave the circle. You must stay withinn it, or the Ritual will fail and Taros will claim you." She glanced at the others. "And then nothing will be able to help your friends." 

Her voice was low at first, rising on the unfamiliar words. Buffy began to feel dizzy as the smoke rose around them, and closed her eyes, listening to the rise and fall of the woman’s voice as she chanted the ancient words of an Invocation, feeling the sharp-sweet scent of the herbs fill her brain. She felt Angel’s hand grip hers, and as the words went on and on, swayed in time to the faceless voice beside them. She felt as though she was falling, the words spiralling round, pulling her down. Nothing but the voice and the smoke and the spell. Redness, thick and cloying. Then emptiness. Falling. Empty. Light. White and pure, bright. Falling … … … 

Part 6 - almost done!! 

Giles coughed and rolled onto his side. Staggering to his feet, he rose, weaving unsteadily over to a window, shoving it open, trying to clear the room of the murky grey mist that remained. Red flickered at its edges, and he rubbed his face as he thought about what they’d watched. 

The smoke from the incense had become thicker than should have been possible, covering almost everything. Cara’s voice had risen and fallen in what seemed to be the distance, as she sang-chanted-spoke the words of the spell. There was only her voice and the sharply scented smoke. Till the howling, screaming roar of pain and anger as - something was ripped from the two figures who had slumped to the floor in the circle. It had hovered above them, pulsing and red and black edged, flickering, and even Giles had felt the hate, the malevolence coming from it. Then the light - white and pure, spearing the thing, spreading out. He remembered falling, the power beating down on him. The gypsy screaming. Then … … slowly waking. 

He could see them in the smoke, lying crumpled at what had to be the centre of the circle. The others were beginning to stir, like him. Coughing, coming slowly to their knees. Wiping his eyes against the acrid sting of the smoke - sharper now than simply incense and herbs - Giles made his way to Buffy and Angel, huddled against each other, hands clasped, eyes closed. As the smoke cleared slowly he was reassured to see that they were breathing. And the realisation came to him. Breathing! Something that vampires didn’t need to do. But where was the gypsy? 

He found her body where she’d been flung out of the circle, the book lying tumbled by her hand. He picked it up gingerly, looking at the page it was open at. And read, slowly, haltingly translating the language it was written in. An ancient tongue, so old that the Ritual didn’t even have a name. He wondered briefly where she’d found it. The Ritual had worked, alright. But what none of them had realised was that the gypsy had sacrificed herself. One life given up in exchange for one soul, one pure heart, given willingly. He looked at the huddled figures on the floor. Wondering. One heart for one soul - yet the gypsy had given one heart - for two souls. She’d had no choice. Couldn’t have Angel without a soul - almost no evil equalled his years of blood and death - but you couldn’t have Buffy with the strengths of demon and Slayer roaming free either. She’d known that. She must have trusted in her abilities, in the power of the Ritual to be strong enough to work for two souls in danger. Wearily, Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose. Xander had helped Cordy and Willow to their feet, and they stood, arms round each other for comfort, murmuring together, warily looking at Buffy and Angel. Waiting …… 

Part 7- Final Instalment 

The nameless Ritual hadn’t quite worked as planned. Odd, how things never happen the way they’re meant to, Buffy thought, watching the child kick, gurgling to herself and waving her fat arms around, reaching for the mobile above her. She lifted her gently from the cradle, wincing but smiling as a handful of hair was grabbed in a chubby fist, bouncing her gently as she left the room and headed through the apartment. She rubbed her face against her daughter’s soft, downy skin, breathing in the scent of baby powder. She paused and closed her eyes, smiling. Who’d have thought she could ever be so happy? She had everything she wanted. Well, almost… 

Angel wasn’t - entirely human. He was a mix of vampire and human. Half of each. He could walk in the sunlight now, but he still craved blood. Sometimes he could control it better than others. He had a reflection, for the first time in two centuries. She smiled slightly. And there were other - improvements. The human part of him made sure that he would never lose his soul again, but the vampire part - well, there good days and bad days. Today had been one of the bad ones, where the demon had taken over and he’d slept, till sunset. She knew he struggled sometimes, to control it. She could hear him moving, now. He’d want blood again. Didn’t happen very often, was getting rarer now, but she kept a supply in the fridge, just the same. The memories were always worse on a bad day as well. The things he’d done. They haunted him, and he couldn’t escape them. The screams of his victims and their pleas for mercy, from the monster that he’d been…… But he was dealing. Slowly. 

The other side affect of the spell - had been her. She’d gone back to being entirely human again, but - she wasn’t growing older. In any way. And she was still the Slayer - which had been an awkward one when she’d been pregnant. But they’d got round it. Giles and the others had “Slayed” and she’d kept pretty much out of the way and shouted instructions whilst clutching her enormous belly. Angel had tried to forbid her to go, but - well, he was wrapped round her little finger. Always a good thing. He couldn’t refuse her anything, so he’d gone with them and helped, protecting her, making sure she was safe. 

Giles hadn’t been able to come up with any explanation of why the Ritual hadn’t worked. Sometimes she thought she could see something in his face. That he knew - knew why it hadn’t worked, knew why the gypsy had died. She thought he’d just about forgiven her for asking to be made a vampire. She tried not to think about that, that she’d asked to become something that she’d always feared. Becoming a vampire had been a secret nightmare for years. But it hadn’t seemed to matter, not if she could be with Angel. Sometimes, though, there was something in Giles’ face when he looked at her…… She didn’t care, anyway, not now. She and Angel were together and nothing else mattered. They had their daughter and nothing could tear them apart. 

She’d asked Willow and Giles to find out what their daughter was. Just in case. There was always the chance that she’d inherited more than her wide, dark eyes and hair from her father. And the news had been good - the spell had revealed that she was entirely human, though Giles had been heard to wonder if Slayer abilities could be passed down. Another unknown, since no other Slayers had children. And certainly none fathered by a half-vampire. And, Buffy reflected, living with a half-vampire wasn’t so bad. Better than a vampire who could lose his soul at any moment of 
happiness…… 

* * * * 

Angel’s eyes were dark with pain as he emerged from the bathroom, trying to block out the memories in his head. His face brightened, the pain receded slightly from his eyes and his mouth curved into a gentle smile as he saw Buffy and their daughter, waiting for him. In one hand she held a mug, steaming gently. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent of blood, his body crying out for it, demanding that he feed. Firmly he shook his head, forcing back the Change that was trying to happen. He gritted his teeth. “No. I don’t want it. Not tonight. I have enough control………I don’t need it.” 
Buffy came forward, setting the mug to one side, smiling as Angel took the squirming weight of their daughter from her, laughing as she pulled his hair. Angel took her hand and she leaned up to kiss him gently, blue eyes sparkling as she looked at him. “Angel? I love you.” she said softly. “It will get easier. Perhaps, one day, you’ll be entirely human. Giles thinks it could happen. We just have to wait, is all. And we’re all here for you. Even Xander, this time.” 

Buffy stepped back and smiled. “Come on - it’s Slayer duty time. Mom’s babysitting tonight, though Willow wanted to…… Let’s go see Giles and the gang.” She laughed and tugged him forwards. “After all, wouldn’t want them to think we’re too busy to go save the world - again.”