Hello everyone! Or, the several people who actually read this faithfully so far. *Waves*
This chapter is longer than the others, sorry for keeping them so short.
Read and enjoy!
This episode is set just after the Angel episode Fredless, which is why Angel is thinking about Fred and belonging (thanks Queen Obvious).
Oh, and I haven't said it in a few chapters (the wonders of denial) but I in no way own BtVs or AtS, they are solely the property of Joss Whedon. Con sarnit.
Oh, and thank you so much everyone that's commented and reviewed so far. It makes my day - sadly enough.
It was past midnight and his friends were long asleep when Angel left the hotel to go for a walk. He travelled down the street and into a park where he sometimes liked to go to think alone. Fred was back and safe, parting with her parents on good terms; Angel was glad for her. He briefly thought about how his relationship with his parents had ended... About as well as their lives.
Angel seated himself on a bench and thought about belonging. Fred had wanted to leave because she didn't belong, but she was back because she did. She fit. Angel had so rarely fit anywhere.
As a young man he had suited the taverns just fine, wasting his life with the other scum of the town.
As Angelus he had simply killed who was necessary to fit anywhere he pleased, just like any other bloodthirsty vampire.
Soulful vampire, he had belonged first in the alleys with the rats, trying to escape what he had done. He hadn't fit anywhere. He hadn't deserved to.
He remembered the night he had met Whistler, the night that had reanimated him; given him meaning again.
No, he corrected himself, the next day had given his life meaning again. She had given his life meaning again. He felt hollow warmth in his chest at the thought of Buffy.
'The good always die young,' Darla had told him once, referring to his turning and his destiny as the best and vilest killer to stalk the earth for millennia. Never had he felt the impact of those words more severely than that moment.
Thinking of Buffy always inspired mixed feelings of guilt, nostalgia and sorrow in Angel. He loved her, he missed her, but he could carry on. He could live without her, even if it hurt.
Because he fit.
*
Lilah walked down the street, needing some fresh air to decide how to approach her unexpected Slayer problem. Aware of how close her current residence was to Angels' hotel, she wasn't surprised to see him sitting in the park midway between the two buildings.
Angel sat with his back to her, and she saw him shift uncomfortably on the bench as she approached. She had been careful to shower after dining with Buffy so that there was no trace scent left on her, just in case.
"Feelin' lonely?" she asked flippantly, taking a seat next to him.
"Feelin' hungry," Angel replied menacingly, not bothering to look at her.
"Come now, haven't we done that dance already?" Lilah tutted.
Angel finally looked at her. "Well, maybe I need a lunch break."
Lilah stared intently at Angel and wondered idly whether she had the ability to intimidate him. She doubted that. But, she reminded herself, the rules are about to change. She would train the Slayer (the abbreviated curriculum, of course), focusing on Angelus, Darla, Drusilla and William the Bloody. She would repeat and repeat every gruesome detail of Angelus' most heinous murders to the girl until it was so deeply ingrained into her mind that Angels' soul would do little to stem the disgust and stifle the recollection of every horrible thing he ever did.
In a matter of time Lilah would send the Slayer after Angel, and his reaction could go one of two ways; he would either realise that it was really Buffy - in which case his fighting back would be unlikely and she would kill him - or he would think that she was a creation of Wolfram & Hart and he would fight back, but from the records saying that this Slayer had sent him to hell before, she would best his skill, and she would kill him. The seemingly inevitable outcome pleased her.
"What do you want, Lilah?" Angel asked, clearly antagonised by her presence.
"I hear that your Slayer died a few months ago," she stated.
Angel had his hand around her throat more quickly than she had thought possible, not moving any muscles but those in his arms. "You are not allowed to talk about Buffy," he spat, tightening his grip considerably.
"Okay, okay," Lilah choked out, holding her hands up in surrender, "Just checking if the office gossip is on the mark, which I'm thinking," she clawed at his hand in a feeble attempt to pry it away, "is a yes."
Angel released Lilahs' throat and stormed away. She felt satisfied with the reaction she had induced and the bruise on her throat that would start as a good beginning for the Slayers' lessons on Angelus.
*
Back in Sunnydale.
Three days after resurrection.
The flooded basement.
Dawn really hated it without Giles. Everything felt more disorganised without a daily dose of tweed to make everyone feel more secure about their own fashion sense. Floating a makeshift paper boat in the flooded basement, Dawn tried not to think about how lonely she was; making light of the situation made it easier for all of them.
This particular morning Dawn had woken up early and pulled out a piece of paper from her desk. She had folded it the exact way that Buffy had taught her (which, in point of fact, was wrong) and taken it downstairs to send it on its maiden voyage.
As Dawn floated that little boat on the lake that was now their basement, she thought about resurrection spells. She wondered if she could bring Buffy back, like she had tried to with her mother. Spike would definitely help her with this one; he loved Buffy as much as she did. She could get her hands on the books from the Magic Box tonight, and her and Spike could have the whole thing planned in a week, tops.
"Dawn?" Tara called, taking light steps down the stairs; Tara always managed to look graceful. "Are you up?"
"Yeah, I'm down here," Dawn replied.
Tara opened the basement door, looking bewildered. "Hi sweetie, do you want some pancakes for breakfast?"
Dawn grinned. She loved Tara's pancakes. "Yeah!"
"Sssshh," Tara giggled, "Willow's classes don't start until the afternoon which means she can sleep in, and you know what she's like when she's woken up early," Tara winked.
Dawn walked up the stairs and Tara put her arm around her, "So do you want normal shapes or funny shapes?" she asked, leading Dawn into the kitchen.
"Funny shapes."
"You look happy today," Tara observed. She was extremely relieved seeing Dawn smile; her smiles had been pretty scarce since Buffys' death.
"I am," Dawn replied, grabbing the pancake batter from the cupboard for Tara.
"Why would that be? Did you get Willow to make you another lucky charm for a maths test?"
"No," Dawn laughed, remembering that incident. "I just...know what I have to do now," she kept her voice light so as not to raise suspicion.
"Your homework?" Tara joked, pouring the pancake batter messily onto the grill.
Dawn stuck her tongue out. "No."
*
If Buffy thought that she had felt out of place at Lilahs' fancy apartment, it was nothing to how out of place she felt at 'Wolfram & Hart: Attorneys at Law'. Everyone she saw was dressed to kill, and she had a sneaking suspicion that that wasn't too much of an exaggeration judging by the amount of security guarding the building.
"Hey Lilah, how are we going to find my mom?" Buffy asked, her hands placed in her pockets nervously. Still in her tight jeans and brown tee, Buffy supposed that she may as well have been in rags; she wouldn't have been too much more incongruous.
Lilah marched - that was the only word Buffy could use accurately, 'march' - into the building, flashing cards and speaking several languages, some which didn't sound human (matching several guards). They took the elevator to the second floor where Lilah led Buffy into a room with a young man sitting at a computer and several red books next to him. The man was too preoccupied to notice the two women entering the room, and Lilah smacked him over the head with a book to get his attention.
"Lilah," he said, removing a previously invisible earpiece, "What can I do for you? The Fyarl demons are pretty feisty at the moment, if you need a painful hit. Recon's pretty keen to get out, too. Two birds; one stone."
Buffy was unsure of whether this man was joking or not, until Lilah burst out laughing.
"Oh Adam, you can be so odd sometimes," Lilah chortled, then grabbing Buffys' arm, "Adam, this is Buffy," she tried to hint with her eyes that Buffy was the Slayer they had spoken about, "she's staying with me at the moment."
"Oh. Oh," he murmured knowingly. He stood up to shake Buffys' hand and she was immediately intimidated by his towering over her. She wearily took his hand and shook it.
Wincing in pain, Adam cradled his hand. It sounded like something had broken. "Wow, you've got a pretty strong one here Lilah," he said lightly whilst really considering several unpleasant bone-crushing scenarios to repay Lilah for his injury.
"Yeah, she is. Look, her mother has gone M.I.A. and we need to find her, can you help Buffy while I get some paperwork done? Show her into my office once you two are finished," Lilah directed and walked out the door.
Buffy was eager to find her mother and rushed down next to Adam, who shifted his hand instinctively away from the very pretty bone-crushing girl.
"Okay, give me a name and I promise we can find whoever you're looking for," Adam said. "You want to find Osama? He's been pretty fun to track."
"Er, I'll be okay thanks," she said, laughinging nervously.
Adam sighed in mock disappointment, "Fine, fine. Who you lookin' for?"
Buffy tried to think of other people she wanted to find, but could only envision her parents. "Uh, Joyce Summers. Hank Summers, too."
Adams' fingers flew across the keyboard with expert accuracy.
"Hank Summers is..." Adam read, "In Spain. Has been for," he scrolled down, "A year or so. It looks like he's taken up permanent residence with a woman."
"Who is -"
"It's not Joyce Summers," he said bluntly, "Do you have a sister?"
Buffy looked at him confusedly, "No. Why?"
Adam chuckled, "The age difference."
Buffy frowned unhappily. Her father was in Spain with some woman young enough to be her sister, and had been for some time. Did he write to her? Did he contact her? Were he and Buffys' mom still friends?
"Joyce Summers," she repeated.
"Alrighty," his fingers flew across the keyboard again, "Joyce..." his voice dropped off, "Married to Hank Summers, Mother of Buffy Summers?"
"...Yeah, that's her. What's it say?" Buffy asked cautiously.
Adam placed his good hand over Buffys' comfortingly, "I don't know if you want to see this. You could come back another day, if you wanted. Lilah wouldn't mind."
"See what? No, I want to see now. Where's my mom?"
Adam sighed, looking unhappy. "Restfield cemetery, Sunnydale."
Buffy looked at him strangely, "Wait, why is she -?"
Understanding gripped her and her chest clenched with grief and tears sprung into her eyes. "No, she isn't. She's healthy! She never smoked, she never drank. She can't be there!" Buffy yelled at Adam. "Show me the screen."
Adam obliged, turning the screen to face Buffy. A newspaper article was on the screen; it looked like advertisements. Buffy realised that she was looking at the obituaries, and that one article was the focal point.
'Today we mourn the loss of Joyce Summers,
Beloved friend and mother,
Our prayers for Buffy Summers, daughter of Joyce.
Goodbye Joyce,
Your love and kindness will live on forever.'
This article infuriated Buffy. It was short and tacky, and didn't do her mother justice. It was dated a year ago.
"Does... Does it say how?" she asked hoarsely.
Three seconds later Adam had opened a different window. It looked like the files were taken from the morgues' private account.
"It was... an aneurysm. She had had a tumour some months earlier, and aneurysms are always a risk when removing a tumour."
Buffys' top lip quivered as she tried to speak, "D-Did - Did it hurt?"
Adam hadn't been working at Wolfram & Hart for very long, but he had already picked up on most of the ground rules. One of them was to know when to lie. Pretending to type some more, Adam said; "No. She would have lapsed into unconsciousness and then just... Gone."
Buffy simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
After sitting for some minutes like this, her tears flowing silently, she asked Adam where the bathroom was and made her way there.
The whole second floor thought a banshee had invaded the bathrooms.
"Her mom's dead," Adam told Lilah several hours later. "What do you expect? 'Damn, okay, bye'? Of course she's going to cry. Just because you hated your mother, doesn't mean we all do."
"She didn't have to put the whole floor on banshee alert!" Lilah hissed vehemently, indicating to the flashing blue light in the hallway.
"Lilah, think about it. This girl has clawed her way out of her own coffin, seen her own tombstone and from that realised that she was five years into the future, her fathers' in Spain with someone young enough to be her sister, her mother is dead and she's preternaturally strong without knowing why. You'd be prone to tears, too... That is, if you possessed the ability to feel human emotion," he corrected himself.
Lilah shot daggers at him, "Alright, I understand that she's having a rough time, but if she looks like she's about to blow can't you just take her outside of the building?"
"It's your job now, I cropped the funeral announcement like you asked. She doesn't know she has a sister, and now I'm done," Adam snipped, turning back to his computer.
"Fine," Lilah sneered, leaving to find Buffy.
After eventually realising she was nowhere in the building, Lilah ventured outside and found Buffy sitting on a garden ledge. It looked like she had done all of her crying during her episode in the bathroom, but Lilah was still cautious approaching her. Buffy savoured the setting sun as the now-friendlier breeze caressed her face gently.
"Buffy?" Lilah asked, her voice resuming an unnatural sweetness.
"You don't have to talk like that, speak normally," Buffy replied stonily.
"Alright, fine," Lilah said, reverting back to her usual cold tone. "I was wondering if you were alright. I'm sorry about your mother."
"Yeah, so am I," said Buffy, her eyes still locked on the horizon as the last rays of sun departed. "Is it time to leave?"
"Time to leave," she replied.
Buffy nodded and jumped down, quickly synchronising their steps but keeping her head directed straight ahead. "There's something you're not telling me."
Lilah was used to being accused of things she was guilty of, and had a pretty sincere poker face. She turned to Buffy, eyeing her suspiciously. "Is there?"
"Yeah, there is. I may not be as old as I look, but I think that - whoever I was - I knew people; I feel it catching up with me."
"And the memories? Are they returning?"
Buffy sighed exasperatedly, "No, still blank on memories, but I feel whoever I was coming back to me. I don't feel fifteen anymore."
Lilah had no idea what to say to the Slayer that she was seriously in danger of liking. When in doubt, she figured, change the subject. "Anything else you want to research?"
Buffy half-smiled, her face still looking hardened and her eyes filled with anguish beyond her years, "I'll get back to you."
And there you go.
Feel free to comment and review if you liked it, if not, still, thanks for reading!
