Title: The Slayer's Hunter
Author: Robyn the Snowshoe Hare
E-mail: snowshoe16@hotmail.com
Part: 7/?
Disclaimer: See prologue


Angel looked around the room, whose walls were covered with framed photos. Giles was fussing over Hunter, and Xander was getting some ice and bandages. Walking slowly over to a wall, Angel took a closer look at some of the pictures. Photo after photo was of Hunter standing on a winner's podium, getting a medal, or a trophy, or a few times what looked like an academic award. Other pictures were of Xander and Hunter together, fishing, playing frisbee, or playing with a huge fluffy dog.

Regret filled Angel. He knew nothing of this boy. Who his friends were, his favorite things to do, what classes he took. All those years wasted, when he could've at least watched Hunter from afar. He could've stood at the back of the auditorium when he got those awards, or watched from the crowd as Hunter won those competitions. No, instead all he was able to do was to look at pictures of these events.

There were also pictures of Willow and Oz, older now, or of Cordelia, or of Giles. In the center of the wall was one of Hunter and two other boys. All three were wearing Sunnydale High track uniforms, at what looked like a pep rally. One one side of the wall, in a little cluster, were three pictures. All were of Buffy and Xander. The first was a wedding picture, showing Buffy trying not to burst out laughing as she attempted to get a piece of cake in Xander's mouth while he was also choking down laughter.

The second picture had looked like it had been taken several years later. It had been taken in the library, probably after a long night of research. Xander was sitting in a chair with Buffy perched on his lap. Both were fast asleep, with the book they had been reading out of still open in front of them. Both were smiling slightly in their sleep, and Angel felt a wave of jealousy at the sight of Buffy sleeping in Xander's arms.

Angel's heart was tearing inside him, and after looking at the third picture, he turned away from the wall. The third picture had been taken on a beach on a cold day, judging from the way everyone had bundled up in sweatsuits, towels, or whatever had been on hand. Xander and Buffy were leaning against each other, wrapped in one towel. The rest had been used to bundle up their small son, who was not very appreciative of it and was shown in the middle of wiggling out of his little cacoon, much to his parents' exasperation.

Moving away from the wall, Angel's gaze fell on a silver-framed picture that stood on a shelf. It was a group shot in a hospital, probably taken by a doctor. Buffy was lying in a hospital bed, propped up by pillows. A man with dirty-blond hair was sitting in a chair, talking on a celphone in a corner. Cordelia and Willow were standing by the left side of the bed, and Angel noticed that both women were pregnant, though not obviously so. Oz was standing behind Willow with his arms around her waist, while Giles stood opposite him. All were grinning in vast amusement, and the reason was clear. Xander was perched precariously on the side of the bed, with a look of utter terror on his face that was priceless as he clearly prayed to God that he would not drop the small bundle that had been placed in his arms.

Angel put the picture down hurriedly as Xander returned to the room.

Ignoring him completely, Xander crossed to the couch that Hunter lay on, still out cold. He spent several minutes bandaging up his wayward child, and a tense silence fell over the room as the three men focused all of their attention on one brown-haired teen. Finishing, Xander stood and moved towards the kitchen. With a jerk of his head, he indicated that Giles and Angel should follow him.

Closing the door softly behind them, Xander spun in barely repressed rage to Angel.

"All right, dead-boy, what the hell are you doing here?" he snarled.

Still raging, he turned to Giles.

"And just what could have possibly gone through that tweed mass you call a brain, huh? You just invited the MURDERING FREAK that killed my wife into my house!"

A cold look from Giles convinced Xander to close his mouth, but he continued to send glances at Angel that made Giles thankful that he didn't have holy water on hand.

Ignoring Xander's hate-filled glare, Angel quickly filled Giles in about how he had been walking and had seen two of Spike's men attacking Hunter. When he told Giles about what little conversation he had overheard, and his own observations that they were clearly only trying to knock the boy unconcious, Giles became very agitated.

"Dammit," he muttered.

"So G-Man, what have you conveniantly forgotten this time?" Xander snapped. He was in no mood for games.

Seeing this, Giles cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a worn piece of paper that Xander remembered seeing him studying earlier that evening.

"This is a copy of a prophesy that Buffy pulled off a vampire a few months before she...em....well...she gave it to me.

"Go ahead and say it, Giles. You mean before this son of a bitch buchered her don't you!"

"That's quite enough Xander! Right now we need to concentrate on what is happening to your son. Ok?"

"Fine. But you keep your distance, reflect-me-not." Xander said with such hate that Angel had to restrain himself from cringing.

"As I was saying. It took me almost three years to translate, whoever wrote it had no grasp of Latin whatsoever. The way they used conjugations was..," at seeing the glares directed at him by both men, he hurriedly continued. "Anyway, it is a spell that also contains a prophesy. It details how to restore life, and also even greater power, to a vampire who was slain by magic that was cast by both the Slayer and the Watcher working in concert with a witch and several others. That is the restoration part. The prophesy is that only one vampire has, as far as I know, ever been killed that way."

The two men looked at Giles in horror.

Angel spoke the name so softly that it was almost a breath, but the others heard him.

"Drusilla." And the phrasing of the word was filled with a mixture of hatred, fear, and loathing.

Part 8