by Jill
Disclaimer and details see part 1
"We're getting nowhere here."
Willow frowned and rubbed her aching forehead, then, closing her eyes, she let her mind wander, let it drift in the certain way she'd learned at the Convent once upon a time. Or so it seemed. It was only three years, but it seemed like a lifetime.
"Yes, it's rather tiring," Giles agreed, closing a phonebook of London. Willow wondered where he had gotten hold of it. Or was it part of his vast collection? English people could be weird sometimes.
"Honey, you look beat."
Willow saw Kennedy's concerned frown and for the umpteenth time caught herself wishing it was Tara looking at her instead. She hated herself for her wish but it was there nevertheless. And it refused to go away. It surfaced time and again, at moments Willow had no right thinking of her late lover. It was wrong. And she was a bad person. But there was nothing she could do. Buffy had once accused her of settling with Kennedy, of having given up on true love. As much as she hated admitting it, Willow knew Buffy was right. She was settling. And she hated that, too.
Still, she did her best to assure her lover. "I'm fine, sweetie. Just annoyed. How can Buffy just disappear? Just like that?"
"Well, if she were still the only Slayer, we could probably trace her, but with all those Slayers everywhere, her aura isn't unique anymore." That from Andrew who called himself a watcher in training these days. Willow wished the stupid boy would simply go away and never come back. She knew that part of her feelings towards the young man were connected to her darkest days. Every time she looked at Andrew she remembered. The way her victim screamed. The fear in his eyes. And the worst. The thrill she'd felt at inflicting all these things. She even remembered how fear smelled.
Giles stood and walked over to another thick book, opened the cover then closed it again, sighing. "I can't believe you actually did call Riley. I can not see how he is supposed to help in finding Buffy."
"Well, he is a soldier, right?" Willow wasn't all that sure on her way of action, but it was better than sitting around doing nothing. Besides, "They told me has was out on a mission." She barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. That just sounded too G.I. Joe even to her. "So it's not like I could talk to him, anyway."
"Well, they will give him your message as soon as he's back."
Willow glanced at Xander who was sitting in the corner, looking tired and lonely. She felt her heart constrict at the sight, and for a fleeting moment caught herself wondering if maybe they had missed a chance you only had once in a lifetime, then dismissed it. Holding yourself up with maybes never did anything good.
She rubbed her aching forehead again. The pain was getting worse, like an army of little guys hammering underneath her skull – everywhere. "I guess," she said. "But Giles is right. I'm not really sure he can help."
"Hallelujah."
Willow gave Spike an irritated frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," he replied, in a voice most annoying, and without a doubt chosen for that purpose, "that the guy is a loser. I mean, he had her. And he left her. That cries loser for me."
"Yes, thank you Spike for your comment, but pray tell us how that will bring Buffy back to us."
Willow gave Giles a grateful smile, but Spike wasn't flustered. "You people have been her friends for way longer than-" He stopped, frowned, then shook his head. "Whatever. You've been with her for a quite some time. But you still don't know her. Not," he put his right hand over his now beating heart, "where it counts."
"That's not true, Spike, and you know it." Dawn's voice sounded tear strained. She hadn't spoken for a while, had just been standing at the window, staring out into the night.
"I know no such thing," the former vampire replied. "I can still remember a time when you threw her out of her own home because you couldn't see that she was right. You people are the most ungrateful lot I've ever met. That coming from me is saying something, believe me."
"Yes, I figure it does," Giles said drily, his voice full of innuendo. "However, hearing that from you has a foul taste to it. You did your best to kill her."
"Hello! Vampire here. I mean, former, but you know, killing the Slayer was a pastime for me. I was evil. Evil means, killing for sports is part of the job description. What's your excuse?"
"We never-" Willow started but caught herself in mid-sentence. No, they had never tried to kill Buffy, but they hadn't been all that great friends either. True, Buffy sometimes didn't make it easy to be her friend. That still was no excuse for not realising in how bad a shape she had been lately.
"You know," Xander said on a heavy sigh, "and it really pains me to say it, but the ex-vamp has a point there. We all thought, hey, now that she's not the only Slayer anymore, life would be nice and easy." He sighed again and stood.
"But it wasn't." Giles nodded gravely, "Yes, we figured as much."
Xander shook his head before his remaining eye met Willow's. She remembered a time when his gaze had been full of mischief, and a time when they were shining with love. Now only one eye was left, the patch over the other one bearing witness of what he'd been through fighting next to the Slayer.
She smiled at him, but he didn't smile back. "I think that's not what Xander meant, exactly."
"No, it's not," her childhood friend agreed. "What I meant was that she hasn't been happy Buffy for a very long time. We just didn't want to deal with depressed Buffy, or needy Buffy. We really are a sorry bunch of losers."
"Finally someone's got it," Spike's voice was full of glee. "With friends like you, she doesn't have to look for enemies."
Riley Finn was having a very bad day. In fact, he was really sure that the day should go in the shitty, better-rewind, never-remember category. But, alas, because he was just a human being, not some supernatural super-hero like some people he happened to know, there was no escaping the day of clusterfucks.
It had started out okay. He had woken up next to Sam, her soft skin warm and familiar, her scent soothing in a way Buffy's never had been. But things had gotten downhill from there.
A second later alarm had sounded through the camp, interrupting their morning snuggle session, followed by Colonel Garish bellowing them into the ground for something they were not responsible for. But – as it turned out – the President had contacted the Colonel and he had not been happy. Something about a hostile development in the middle eastern desert, and now they all had to live with the outpour.
Receiving their orders an hour later, he and Sam and their group had spent the day wading through water and by six p.m. they were all soaked through, tired and cranky.
"This sucks."
Yes, that completely summed it up.
"Thanks for the encouraging comment, Miller." Riley knew he sounded sourly but he couldn't help himself. Nor did he want to.
Graham simply shrugged, not overly impressed with his squad leader's response, just the way Riley had expected. Graham knew him too long, too well. He was almost like a brother, and just like a brother, he knew how to take Riley's moods.
"All I want is a hot bath and a warm, comfy bed."
"Nice dream, Finn." Riley glanced at his wife who grinned at him in return. No hot bath here in the wilderness. No comfy bed either. But at least they had each other. And a baby. Geez. He had to get used to that thought.
"Yeah, isn't it?" Sam never lost her good humor, had in fact managed to pull him through some of his more darker days. "Uh-oh."
Riley raised a brow at her, and at her nod, he turned only to find Colonel Garish waiting for them. Now what? No way his pregnant wife was spending another night in the open. They had all done their job, they deserved a break. But soldier training took over in an instant, and Riley felt himself stiffen and salute. "Sir."
"Finn. At ease." The Colonel let his eyes sweep over the sorry looking group and Riley saw his lips twitch. "Finn. Both of you. Come with me. The rest – go eat."
They obeyed instantly, while Riley and Sam trotted after their commander. "Sir?" he asked.
"You had a phone call while you were out," the Colonel informed them. He was a tall man, more than six feet, and still not as tall as Riley. And he was some sort of legend, had fought in the desert, and been trained a SEAL when he was young.
"A phone call, sir?" Who the hell would call him? Nobody even knew he was here? Although – His thoughts came to a screeching halt and his gaze found Sam's. She was looking at him steadily.
"Yes. A Mr. Giles called from Rome, Italy. Seemed urgent." The Colonel stopped, turned, and stared at the couple. "Anything I should know, Finn? I thought all your family is from Iowa."
"They are," Riley assured his commander quickly. "Mr. Giles is someone I worked with for a while." He paused for a moment, then added, "In Sunnydale."
Garish's gaze turned thoughtful. "Sunnydale you say. Wasn't that wiped out by an earthquake a few years back?"
"Yes, Sir. At least that's the official version," Riley replied, keeping his face neutral. Beside him, Sam coughed slightly.
Garish nodded, he wasn't a stupid man. "I see. Are you going to tell me what really happened?"
Riley sighed. "I'm not quite sure. You are aware of the fact that Sunnydale was built on a hellmouth?"
"Yes, yes," Garish waved dismissively. "Don't bore me with details, Finn."
"Of course not, Sir." Riley exchanged a glance with his wife, not sure how much information he should offer. Sometimes, so he had learned working for Professor Walsh, not telling was the wiser move. "From the sparse information I could achieve, it seems that the hellmouth collapsed. The Slayer was involved."
"The Slayer, you say." Garish rubbed his chin. "And this Mr. Giles?"
"He is, was, her Watcher."
"I see. Well," Garish got up, "what are you waiting for? Contact the man. Dismissed."
"So this is the alley?"
Connor nodded, his feeling of unease increasing at the pacing the blond woman in front of him didn't seem able to cease. "Yeah. At least I think it is."
He looked around, wondering what brought him into this God-forsaken alley in the middle of the night.
"You don't know for sure?" Her voice was like a whip, her gaze sharp.
"No." He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "Look, I wasn't with him when he died. Spike could probably-"
"Spike isn't here," she snapped, and Connor wondered if she was tethering on the edge. Her face was drawn, dark bags beneath her eyes testifying to a lack of sleep over quite some time. And she didn't look like she ate much. All skin and bones. Yes, she was beautiful, in a starved, edgy sort of way, but for his taste she was way too intense.
But then, his biological father had been kind of intense, too. They probably fit really well.
"Damn."
The word was a hiss, and Connor looked back at the blonde. "I'm sorry. But he sent me away."
A smile ghosted over her lips. "Yeah. That's the kind of thing he'd do. He loved you very much, you know."
He knew that, but it was still nice to hear someone say it. "Yeah. I gathered as much. The sending me away from the final battle was a big hint."
Another smile. "He wanted to fight by my side." The smile vanished. "I sent him away. Gave the medallion to Spike." She sucked a sharp breath, and turned away from him quickly, so Connor was left staring at the back of her head.
"What now?" he wanted to know, wondering what on God's earth had made him agree with her crazy idea to go to L.A. and check out the spot where his father had died.
"I have to talk to people. Hit some clubs. You can come or not."
She started walking and Connor stared stupidly after her, before he followed quickly. "Ah – not to sound pissed her, or anything, but I haven't exactly got a place to stay. Remember, it was your idea to come here – without a plan, I may add." He sounded a little pissed, but he didn't care. He felt as if he'd landed in the middle of some wacky nightmare. And all thanks to the slightly crazy blonde girl, he had problems to follow.
Or did bump into, as she suddenly stopped and turned to look at him. "Look, I didn't force you to come. I told you what I wanted to do, you agreed."
Connor stared at her, sure now that she'd lost all her marbles. "That was before I saw what kind of crazy not-plan this is," he gritted out.
"You can go home any time," she shot back.
"Uh-huh. Sure. Just like that. There are not flights tonight."
"Then get a room and fly back tomorrow. I thought you could help, but I was obviously wrong. You're nothing but a burden to me." There was no mercy in her eyes, no understanding. She just didn't care. Connor wondered if she'd always been so single-minded.
"Excuse me? A burden? Oh, thanks so much for your vote of confidence." He rolled his eyes, "Remember, son of two vampires. Super-powers here. I could actually help."
"I don't need your help in that department. Remember," she mimicked his voice, "super-powers here." After a moment, her shoulders slumped and she turned away, began walking again. "You can come with me or not. It's up to you."
Connor looked at her back for a moment, then followed her into the night, experiencing an odd feeling of déjà-vu. He didn't know why, but he couldn't shake off the idea of his father walking a similar path once.
to be continued …
