Chapter One: Moving On
The manor was quiet as Richard crept through it. He was master at this by now, getting in and out of the house undetected. What made it even more of a miraculous feat was that Jarvis had not told on him, especially to Alfred. He imagined Uncle Tony had something to do with that.
Up the stairs and to his room. The sun was just beginning to peak out over the horizon. He still has time to grab a couple of hours of sleep before having to get up and go to the tutor's.
"I'm telling."
There was one person who always greeted him at this time, the one person he could not sneak around. Hand on the door handle, he turned to see Marti peeking out of her doorway, blonde hair mussed from sleep, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. She was becoming more and more like her mother.
"Go back to bed, Marti," he told her. Not waiting for her retaliation, he entered his room, closing the door softly behind him, and immediately fell on his bed to get some sleep.
When he woke up again, he lay looking out the window. The day was going to be another dreary one: gray clouds, the promise of snow. Again.
He felt something. He felt that something was wrong. But he didn't need whatever abilities he had to know that. This feeling, however, was not something that came and went: it was there all the time and had been for 8 years.
Sighing, he got up, showered, and dressed, and then went in to make sure Marti was ready.
"Is Daddy taking us to school today?" She asked as she asked every morning.
"I think Alfred is," he answered helping her with her coat. He and Marti did not go to 'school'. They went to a tutor. Willow had taught him when he was younger, but social services hadn't been too happy about that, so Bruce had hired a private tutor. When Marti was school age, she had started going to the same tutor. Richard was glad he and Marti did not go to public school. He had never really liked hanging around with other children and he was even happier that they didn't go to private school. He may have been adopted by a billionaire, but deep down he was still and always would be a circus brat. He was glad Marti didn't go because he didn't want her to turn out to be a spoiled rich kid. So, it worked out for both of them.
"Daddy hasn't taken us in a long time," she continued, taking his hand as they left the room. "Why not?"
"He has a lot to do," Richard lied. The same lie he always told and he hated having to do it, but he doubted she would understand the truth. He really didn't either.
"When does he not have a lot to do?" Marti skipped along at his side. The look on her face was so like her mother's that Richard had to swallow hard to get rid of the lump in his throat before he could answer.
"He runs an international corporation and…" He couldn't finish the sentence. How could he explain to an 8 year old girl that her father spent his nights patrolling the streets of the city for criminals? Especially if he wasn't sure if that was as true as it once was. "He has a lot of meetings and stuff."
"I suppose," she said with a smile.
"Well, look who's up and ready to go," Faith stated, meeting them at the bottom of the stairs. She looked as if she had gone one on one with something really big and mean, and she more than likely had.
For the past several months, there had been more demons and vampires than ever flooding into Gotham. Faith and Spike had heard from several reliable sources that something big was going to happen, about to happen. And soon. As always. At least they had had some sort of peace these past few years. As much as they could have. Richard had overheard Faith telling Giles and Willow that it was her time to be tested and she didn't feel she was ready for it.
Richard had heard things too.
But he wasn't about to tell anyone where he had heard them from.
"Aunt Faith, how did you get all beat up?" Marti asked, all wide eyed and innocent.
"Well, um…" Faith was looking for a way out. If she couldn't punch it or kick it, she was at a loss.
"She fell down the steps in the back," Giles stated. Tweed jacket, cup of hot tea in his hands, glasses firmly in place; he reminded Richard of a professor instead of a librarian, or a Watcher for that matter. "Rather clumsy of her really." He smiled as he passed through, on his way out to his job at the museum.
Faith smiled, a little strained. "Yeah, that's me," she said at length. "Gawky ol' Faith. It's amazing I can make it up to my room without hurting myself." She rolled her eyes, when Richard was the only one who could see the gesture, as she went up the stairs. She even had the mind to trip, catching herself on the banister.
Richard guided Marti on through the house until they found Alfred in the kitchen. He already had breakfast ready for them and waiting on the table. His smile was warm, but a little strained and Richard knew it had nothing to do with either him or Marti.
"Good morning, children," Alfred stated. The hand that poured each of them orange juice was steady, but Richard not only knew the butler well, but he was good at noticing things. He had had a very good teacher.
"Has daddy left for work yet?" Marti asked. She had had to, thought Richard. She always did.
Alfred's face remained neutral, but Richard saw the look in his eyes, the sadness that passed over them. His body language said it all: Bruce was still in the manor and he was trying to decide if he should say so or not.
"Eat your breakfast," Richard told her. "We have to hurry and get to the tutor's."
"But I want to see him," Marti protested. Her features were setting into a stubborn line – one so familiar. "I haven't seen him in days."
"He's busy, Marti," Richard went on, digging into the plate of food before him even though he had lost his appetite. It had been more than a few days, more like weeks, since Marti had seen her father. He himself had only seen him once in that amount of time. No, not Bruce. He had seen Batman, but…
"You used to come in to tell me 'goodnight,' and he hasn't in so long," Marti began, her lower lip sticking out. "Is he mad at me?"
"Oh, sweetheart, no," Alfred stated, patting her honey-blonde curls. He cleared his throat, his eyes misty. "No, he has just been…busy."
"Eat up, Marti," Richard said. The food tasted like ash in his mouth. How long was this going to go on? How could Bruce do this to his own child? "We have to go soon."
Spike drew the last drag from the cigarette then immediately tossed it into the water.
The damn bats were driving him nuts.
They made noise day and night, fluttered around, and were just basically annoying. But, as bad as they were, he couldn't bring himself to live in the mansion above him. Oh sure, it was comfortable, and there were places he could go to avoid the sunlight during the day, but for some reason the cave just felt more like home.
Yes, he missed her. Hell, they all did. And while what had happened between them years ago had been over years ago – his getting turned to dust the finale of that relationship – that didn't mean that he hadn't cared for her anymore. Jealous, maybe a little. But at least it hadn't been that tosser, Angel, she had taken up with. No, she had been happy, and that had made Spike happy enough. He just wished he had gotten to see it firsthand.
Angelus had broken him of his pansy ways centuries ago, but Spike had his soul now. And down here in this cave, alone, he wept. There were times he couldn't help it. Especially when he did venture up into the mansion and saw that little girl. That little girl that looked so much like Buffy, acted like her, made faces like her.
He wasn't pining over a woman, slayer or not, that he had at one time thought he had loved. No, he was sad because that little girl would never know what a wonderful, special, and strong woman her mother had been. She would never know the woman that he, Willow, Xander, and Giles had known. Sure, they could tell her about her and what she had done for this world, but telling was not anywhere near as witnessing firsthand, and she had been robbed of that.
He sighed, lighting another cigarette.
This world was not fair. Not at all.
Willow was close to placing a pillow over Xander's face, if only to stop the snoring.
Xander was a sleep on the couch in what Willow considered the library in the mansion. It was a nice one, that was for sure, with books ranging from medical journals to first prints of classics and now the Watcher Diaries and the various other books that she and Giles had accumulated over the years had a home here.
Demons popped up here and there, and while Giles continued his job at the Museum, it was left to Willow to be the stand-in Watcher for Faith.
It hurt like hell, but she did it.
Instead of smothering her friend, she tossed a wadded up piece of paper at him, hitting him squarely on the nose.
"Huh? What?" Xander sat up in a hurry, looking around anxiously. He turned to see Willow's smile, apologetic and sad all at once, and smiled back, just as sad. "Hey."
"Hey," Willow responded, closing the book in front of her. A group of demons had moved into Gotham in the last few weeks. Faith had not seen or fought any of them, but her sources had been adamant that they were out there. Given the descriptions, Willow had thought she would be able to find them in one book or another. So far no luck.
Xander sighed, deep and loud, putting his feet on the floor, and running his hands through his hair. Looking at the clock in the room, he noticed how early it was. Richard and Marti would have left for the tutor's by now.
"Have you not slept at all? I mean, your nose was wedged into a book pretty deep when I passed out at about 2 this morning."
Willow shook her head, leaning her head onto her hand, arm propped up on the desk she sat at. "No." She met his eyes. "I thought pain was supposed to lessen over time. You know, time heals all wounds and all."
Xander nodded, clasping his hand together as his elbows rested on his knees. "Time is a bitch. A big, smelly, dumb bitch that doesn't care about anyone or anything. And it doesn't make certain things easier."
"Yeah," Willow stated. "Isn't that the truth?"
