Disclaimer: All characters and all things affiliated with Buffy the Vampire slayer belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and UPN.

Summary: An answer to an Offspring Challenge (off of the now-dead site Tainted Love). Angst filled but with a happy ending. AU.

Rated: PG-13

Warning: Character death.

Daddy Dearest

By: Icegaze

Chapter One

"Oh, Daddy Dearest!" A saccharine-sweet voice floats from the lobby of the building and into my office's open door.

I roll my eyes and glance at the clock on the wall. Wow. The girl must have been hoofing it to get here so quickly. School only let out half an hour ago, and while our building is closer to my daughter's school than home is, it is still a fair distance. "In here, Betha."

It isn't long before she's sauntering into view, her arms thrust out in an expansive gesture. She is all of fifteen, but it is evident even now that she will grow up to be a great beauty. Her honey blonde locks cascade in carefully tended waves around her; little fake diamonds are pinned here and there in the fluffy mass. She's wearing a rainbow-striped spaghetti-strap shirt which falls slightly short of touching the waist of her faded blue jeans. On her feet are flimsy flip-flops that slap the soles of her feet as she walks. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Delirious. What do you want of me, now?" I'm not fooled. You didn't raise a child without knowing a thing or two or three about them and their manipulative tendencies.

"Daddy! You wound me! Why can't I just be visiting my loving father purely for the sole purpose of expressing my undying affection and respect for him?"

"Because you never visit me unless you want something. And you never talk like that to me unless it's a huge favor."

She flopped into a cushy leather chair in front of my desk and her full bottom lip grew to twice its size in a pout she knew was adorable. "Mom grounded me."

"Yes, I know, sweetness. I was there."

"But Phillip Broder asked me if I was going to be at Club 64 tonight and he's so incredibly drool-material that I said yes. So the future of my social life and possibly even my entire love life relies on me being there."

"But you're grounded."

"Yes, I know that."

"I'm not getting what I'm supposed to do about this. It's not my fault you lied to Mr. Drool."

"Well, I wouldn't be lying to him if you talked Mom into loosening her death grip and letting me go tonight."

"Sugary Sweets. Wonderful child o' mine. We both know that once your mother has said something, there is no reversing her decision. It's like slamming your head against a brick wall."

"Hopefully it's not that painful, honey."

Elizabeth squeaks and whirls around to see her mother leaning casually on the door jam, a smirk on her face. "Mommy! Hi! How long have you been standing there?"

My wife cocks an eyebrow at her daughter. "You're not going to Club 64 tonight. Or any night this week for that matter. You are to be punished for breaking a rule. Real life isn't quite so forgiving as I've been," Elizabeth opened up her mouth, but my wife raises her voice slightly to talk over whatever the teen was trying to say, "so you better get used to things not being fair."

"Mom!" Elizabeth whines. Her eyes fill full of tears and the tip of her pert nose turns a delicate peach color. She sniffles a few times. "I really need to be at the Bronze tonight! If I don't go then I'll never be able to show my face in school again! No one stands up Phillip Broder! He'll hate me and all of his lackeys will make fun of me and I'll never ever get another chance with him again!"

"You should have thought about that before you stayed out three hours past your curfew, and didn't even call to let us know you were okay and still alive. We set these rules to protect you. You know intimately what lurks in the shadows. I thought that would make you more cautious. It seems to have only made you more reckless. So, until you learn your lesson, you're grounded."

"I've learned my lesson! I promise! I'll never stay out past ten ever again – despite the fact that I still think that's way too early – and I'll spar with you to prove that even if I were to come up against a vampire I can still dust his soulless butt in a second and I'll do laundry for a year and keep my room clean all the time and I'll even clean the kitchen floor with my tongue! Please! Just let me go tonight! Just tonight! Heck, you can ground me for a month just as long as I can go out tonight. I'll even come home at nine! You don't understand how important this is, Mom!"

Her mother watches Elizabeth rant and rave with a glare. The woman might love her daughter with every fiber of her being, but when it comes to certain things, she's an unforgiving bitch. "No. Vampires aren't something to fuck with, Elizabeth. The later you stay out, the more likely you are to get attacked. Since you are so adamant about not training to become a vampire hunter, then you'll just have to put with the constraints we put on you to keep you safe. If you want to be a victim, we'll treat you like we treat the other victims."

Tears were streaming down Elizabeth's cheeks, but her eyes were furious. My wife, on the other hand is a cold slab of steel, unrelenting and everlasting in her decisions. I lean back in my chair, rubbing my mouth in order to hide my growing smirk. My girls are so much alike that while it's not completely visibly obvious that they are related, right now no one could ever doubt.

At the boiling point, Elizabeth finally explodes. "I hate you! I hate you so much! You get a kick out of ruining my life don't you? You guys aren't the most normal parents, so I have to compensate for your weirdness. Do you know how long it took me to even get the small amount of friends that I have? They're only my friends because I'm pretty. But, they are friends. I'd rather be shallow and have friends than the freak and have no friends. I can go from Miss Popularity to Miss Freaky Freak McFreakerson in a heartbeat. And that's exactly what's going to happen if I don't get to Club 64 tonight!"

And before either of us can demand that she stay, she dashes out of our building and slams the door shut behind with her with a slam that rattles the glass of the door. I can just see the glass shattering to the floor, and imagine the money it will cost to replace a sheet of glass that thick.

My office fills with silence and my smirk fades as I realize I'm the one who has to deal with my wife. Crap. She is seething with anger over the argument, but as minutes pass, I can see that sadness is starting the creep over her features. I slowly count to ten, then I speak. "Lover, I think you were a little to harsh with her."

Her eyes flash fire at me and I realize I should have let her cool down a little longer. She points a finger towards me and I opt to stay in my seat and not come close enough to get that digit poked into my chest. "Don't start with me, Billy boy. She knew what she was doing when she didn't come home the other night. She wasn't late for half an hour, but three hours, Bill. I was a nervous wreck! I was so afraid that I had lost her too."

Okay, now is the time to approach her and come away with all limbs still attached. I rise from my desk and go to her, wrapping my arms around her deceivingly slim frame. She remains stiff in my embrace, but I don't let that bother me. "Nothing happened, sweets." I say softly, hating that my words come out tinged with a British accent. I concentrate on pronouncing things like an American. "Our daughter returned home safe and sound. If you continue to treat her this way, however, you're going to lose her anyway. And that's not in a life or death way. She'll move all the way to Alaska as soon as she's legal and you'll never see her again."

She relaxes fully as if all of her muscles turned to liquid. I have to tighten my grip on her to keep her upright. She pushes herself against me her arms wrapping around my torso, clutching me close, desperately. "I don't want to lose her too."

"I know, sweets. Neither do I." I whisper my voice thick, and I sound like a Brit and I hate it.

On the way home, I manage to talk my wife into letting Elizabeth go to the club so that she could stand a chance with Mr. Drool and popularity, but on certain conditions.

When given her new rules, she squeals, hugs her mother, peppers her cheek with kisses, and thanks her a thousand times as she rummages through her closet to find something suitable to wear.

"You are aware that you have to be home by nine, you're now grounded for two extra days for this, and you're going to be my Chore Slave for a week?" My wife says, expecting another argument.

Elizabeth looks up from the floor where she is discarding unsuitable shoes. Her hazel eyes shimmer with excitement that even a year's worth of chores wouldn't be able to damper. "Yep!" She chirrups and throws a pair of strapped high-heeled shoes over her shoulder into the "no way" pile.

I don't bother to smother the amused smirk stretching my mouth this time. Sighing at the hopelessness of getting her daughter to be serious, my wife turns to me and I cup her cheek in my hand. She gives me a soft smile and leaves the room.

As if she was waiting for her mother to leave, Elizabeth's eyes darts to the door and stands. I watch as she bounces over to me, a huge grin splitting her face. She peeks around my shoulder and down the hall, steadying herself by gripping my arms. Sure that her mother isn't in hearing distance, she launches herself against me, arms around my neck and mouth close to my ear.

"Thank you, Daddy. I knew you could do it." She whispers and after planting a loud, messy kiss on my cheek she bounces over to her bed and bends down, pulling a lidless box from underneath where an outfit is laying neatly folded, including a pair of shoes.

I laugh, more than amused at my daughter's deviousness. She whips her head around, looking painfully innocent, though her eyes are laughing as well.

"Be home by nine, sweets. You mother is already going to worry herself into knots as is. You don't have to sleep with her, but I do, so have mercy on a tired old man."

"Nine?" She asks, her voice giving away her intention. I smirk, and shake my head. Merciless and shameless.

"Nine." I say, firm. She pouts prettily, but gives in.

The call wakes me at three in the morning. It is too late at night for me to check the caller ID and actually understand the letters and numbers that identify who is calling, so I just pick up the phone ready to chew out whoever is on the other line if it isn't an emergency.

"Hello?" I grumble, sleep distorting my voice so that I sound more animal than human.

"She's sickly. Dying. She's asking for you."

I freeze. All of the muscles in my entire body clench in reaction to hearing his voice. My heart is thudding a mile a minute, and I feel the blood drain out of my face. The silence on the other end of the phone in deafening, but I can't say anything. I don't know what I could possibly say to him. I haven't heard his voice for twenty-five years. I have put him into my past. The past that I want to forget and never dredge up again.

Then the words actually register, and it the comprehension of just whom is sick and dying that sets me in motion again. I crash the phone on the cradle, unapologetically cutting off our meager conversation and rummage in the closet for an overnight bag. After finding it, I grab shirts and pants and other essentials and stuff it into the suitcase in my hurry to be out of the door.

"Bill?"

I look up, guilty for having forgotten about her, even if for a moment. "Yeah?" I set the bag down on the floor beside me and seat myself on the bed, facing her.

"What's going on? Who was on the phone and what did they say to put a fire under your ass?" She sits up in bed and I quell the urge to push her back onto the bed and command she go to sleep and forget any of this happened.

I have to get to California. She's dying. The one person from my past life that loved me. I have to get back and say my good-byes or I'll never forgive myself for abandoning her.

Panic bubbles up inside of me. Ever since I met my wife, I've been running from my past. I never told her about it because the last thing I needed was to remember it. It was supposed to have died a quick death the second I left the state. If I told her what was going on, the real truth – not just the rose-tinted version our marriage would be in shambles. She would divorce me so fast my head would spin. I love my wife with every beat of my freakish heart. She can never know. I can never tell her.

"It's... I've just got to go, okay, sweets?"

"No, it's not okay, Bill. It's the middle of the night and you're going off to God knows where because of a two second phone call. Please, tell me what's going on." She pauses, her eyes searching my face. "When are you going to come back?"

I don't trust my voice. I shrug my shoulders instead.

"Baby, please tell me what's going on." She asks, a frightened, vulnerable look on her face. She hasn't lived a very cushy life and we had some problems in the beginning of our relationship because she feared getting close to anyone. She needs to know that I'm not abandoning her. But I can't tell her about that.

I stand there for a moment, trying to decide if I should ignore the request and damage our relationship or be vague and break the promise I made to myself to never speak of it again. I reason that either way she won't leave me alone until I give her something, a crumb to explain why I'm leaving without any warning and why I don't know when I'll be back.

"My aunt is dying. I have to go." I get off of the bed and pick up my bag again, needing to be on the road, needing to be on a plane. Needing to be in California and holding her hand until the life passes out of her eyes and her body turns into a husk, freeing her soul.

My wife curls up into a protective ball. She doesn't have an aunt. Or, she used to until vampires came and killed her entire family. The reason why she lost her family is the same reason why she alone survived. "Go," she whispers and I nod, closing the door quietly behind me.

I ease the door to Elizabeth's room open and peek inside. She is awake, but just barely.

"Daddy?" she asks, her voice husky with sleep.

"There's been an emergency and I need to go." That woke her up fully. She sits up in bed and, alert, stares at me with eyes that demanded more information. I smile at the familiar expression, my heart wrenching. I walk further into the room, and reach down to caress the line of her cheek as I had done zillions of times since her birth.

"Emergency what? What happened? What's wrong?"

I shake my head at her which makes her brow furrow in confusion and frustration. I can see the fear at the edges, but I don't have time for another stilted, general explanation. "I don't know when I'll be back, sweetest. Until then, obey your mother and watch out for each other." I place a kiss on her forehead and she reaches up to grip the wrist of the hand that is still cupping her cheek.

"I love you." I say as I turn to leave. I hear her echoing me and the lost, concerned emotion behind it.

Having said my good-byes, I rush to my car, start it up and as soon as I can clear the garage door, I speed to the airport.