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Epilogue: December 26, 2008, Sunnydale Hospital, Sunnydale, CaliforniaWillow Rosenberg entered the hospital waiting room, followed by Emily Harding and Cale Benjamin. There was only one other occupant, an expectant father buried behind a newspaper. This man was far calmer than Xander Harris.
“How’s she doing?” Willow asked.
“Fine, far as I can tell.”
Emily asked, “They won’t let you in?”
Willow grinned. “Cordy’s not a big believer in natural childbirth.”
Xander rushed to the nurse on duty. “How is she?” The nurse looked down at her monitor. “Everything’s proceeding smoothly, Mr. Harris. Same as five minutes ago.”
“Now, do I pay here?” The nurse looked down at the chart.
“Your wife’s stay has already been paid for, Mr. Harris.” Xander looked at Willow, who shook her head.
“Knowing Cordy, she prepaid on her platinum card.”
Xander’s mind skipped past that. “Where’s Regan?”
Willow hemmed. “She’s in England — doing England things, I mean, visiting relatives and such.” Xander was about to ask the nurse another question when the doors opened. The obstetrician stood there. “Mr. Harris —” she began.
Xander sprang to his feet. “Yes?”
“You’re the father of a beautiful baby girl. Your wife is doing fine. Would you like to come see your daughter?” Xander rushed past the doctor and motioned for his friends to follow. They did so.
“So, Mr. Harris,” the doctor asked as they walked through the doors, “Have you and Mrs. Harris named your daughter?”
“You bet your ass we have,” Xander said as the doors closed.
The man behind the newspaper put it down, gave a shhh motion to the nurse, and went over to peer through the door’s window. Down the corridor he saw the four looking through a glass partition at a wriggling infant. He heard Xander say faintly, “Guys, meet my daughter. Buffy Summers Harris,” and smiled broadly, for the first time in months.
The nurse spoke to him. “It was really nice of you to pay for Mrs. Harris’s hospital stay,” she said. “But why did you want it to be a secret?”
“I owe them a debt far larger than I could ever repay,” the man said wearily, soulfully. “I guess you could say I’m sort of their guardian … Angel.”
June 29, 2025, New Glenbury, PABuffy Summers Harris recognized them for what they were right away. Vampires. “Could we make this fast?” she asked
The vampires, unaccustomed to blasé victims, blinked in surprise. Buffy took advantage of this to kick one in the chest and turn to run. A tall figure appeared suddenly behind one of the vampires and thrust a stake through its back.
“Your parents must’ve been negligent,” the figure said hollowly. “Here. Use this.” She was handed a stake. “You know what to do.”
“Damn right.” She turned and groin-kicked a male vamp, then staked it. She sensed another one coming from behind her, flipped it over her back, and did the same.
The fourth was lying on the ground, unmoving. She looked quizzically at the figure, who said, “Well? Put the damn thing out of its misery.” Buffy did so, then turned.
“I’m the Slayer?” Buffy asked.
The tall figure said, in a harsh voice, “You could say … it’s in your blood.”
“Well, that’d make you my Watcher. So what do I call you?”
The figure moved under the streetlight. She was pale and blonde. She said, grinning, “Call me … Leary.”
END