A/N: My muse wants a cape…well not the hyperactive muse but the insane one. Damn it, can't I have normal muses?
Disclaimer: Don't own it; never will. Don't own anything in this story, not even my muses.
Notes: Faith was never bad and the End of Days wasn't against Caleb with the Potentials help. The scythe thingy didn't happen and the First was just the First Evil. Anya didn't die although members of the Scoobies were lost. Anything else, you can figure out from reading the story.
Prologue
She'd come to him that day, crying so hard he thought someone died. Nearly eight years later, a part of him wished someone had died. It would have made his life so much easier.
He'd married her because it had been expected. They'd dated in high school and throughout college even though Lisa knew that he could never love her. He'd explained it to her once, how if he went for women she'd definitely be one he could fall in love with. But he didn't go for the opposite sex; he never had.
It had been during his freshman year and Vince's senior year of college that they'd met. The attraction had been instant but both had tried to ignore it. They were both with other people—with other women—and it would have been too complicated.
Lisa had been the one to tell him that he should go for it. And, after a little more prompting from her, he had. Their first date had been nothing special, just coffee at a little café on the outskirts of Greenwich Village. But that first date had evolved into something more, something that happened even though Vince had been engaged when they met and married about two months after graduation.
Lisa had understood that he didn't love her; Linda had never even tried to be so understanding of him and Vince. When Linda became pregnant just after the honeymoon, they'd cooled things off for awhile. Nine years after she became pregnant again, he'd gotten married himself.
They'd shared a marriage bed on their wedding night, him and Lisa, along with all that that entailed. She was on the pill; they figured it was safe.
After they'd gotten back from the honeymoon, which was spent with both of them checking out hot men, he'd gone back to Vince and all was well in their worlds.
Then it had happened. She'd come to him, and, after she stopped crying, told him that she was pregnant. They'd gone together to tell Vince about it. To say that'd he'd been upset would have been a massive understatement. Hell, to say he was pissed as hell would have still won understatement of the year.
They'd broken up ten years after Vince had told him that Linda was pregnant for the first time, and five months before he had children of his own.
Lisa had had two beautiful children eight months to their wedding night. Elizabeth had come out of the womb with a sly smile on her face; Zachary Jr. had come out with a determined frown.
They had turned seven two weeks before, and Lizzie's only request had been that she could go shopping. Zachary had snickered. She was so like her mother. Zach had wanted to go to wrestling school.
Zach was already showing promise of becoming a damn good wrestler. One day, his son would have to face the man that he'd loved with all his heart but who hated him for getting his wife pregnant.
His wife. She'd been so pleased about the fact that the family birthday party had been such a success. Just a week later, she'd been coming home from the office when a drunk driver decided that the one way sign didn't apply to him.
She'd died immediately, the doctors told him. He wished that Lisa hadn't died; she'd been his best friend for just over two decades. He was thirty-seven and he didn't think that he could stand being around his children.
The funeral had been held two days before. Lisa's little sister, Joyce, would be leaving that afternoon to return to her husband in Los Angeles. She'd be taking Lizzie with her.
Lizzie's adoption was already being finalized; sometimes it paid to be a lawyer. Zach's adoption would be finalized in another week. His own younger sister, Mara Gowan, would also be returning home that night, taking his son with her.
Fate was a bitch, he decided that night. Until the familiar sounds were gone, he didn't realize that he'd loved his family so damn much.
Zachary wrote out two letters, one to his daughter and one to his son, that night. He sent one to Joyce and the other to Mara before he sent his car off of a cliff.
The police called it an unfortunate accident but his family knew better. It was years before his children came to understand it but once they read those letters on their sixteenth birthdays, they understood it all.
They kept in contact, although they didn't visit. And, somehow, his sister forgot to mention several tiny facts over the years. Like being called as the Slayer or dying at sixteen.
Oh, and being accepted into the WWE at twenty-two.
Oops.