Disclaimer:I own only what I created, blah, blah, blah...

Warnings:Child abuse, rape, SLASH and I think that's it for now

Pairings:Harry/Spike(?) Buffy/Angel, other canon ones.

I really wanted to introduce Spike but it will almost definitely NOT be next chapter. Perhaps the one after? I'm just trying to get every thing set up and he's captured at the moment.

As you've probably realised I'm not completely following the episodes. For a start this started in July whereas in Buffy it was Christmas time. Some things are going to follow Buffy, others aren't, I'm just making it up as I go along.

I have to say this is the fastest I've ever done a story. I had half of this chapter written by the time I posted the last one. It just seems to flow. Of course, I have like 5 other stories to update as well, but at the moment this one is stealing all my creativity. And my chapters are way longer than usual. On all my other stories I do around four pages per chapter. The chapters for this one are averaging at five and a half. This chapter is 8. So, you're all very lucky!

Thank you to lunadea21 who also helped with the American schooling. I should get round to using it next chapter.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. It makes me want to update even faster.

Three weeks later, 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale, California, 09:47am Monday, 28th August

Harry awoke to sunlight streaming through the window and clattering downstairs. He felt a brief flash a panic before he remembered where he was, then looked around the room, reassuring himself. It wasn't large, but wasn't overly small either. The walls were cream, covered with posters of bands and boys, the furniture a light wood. There was a TV on a table in a corner and a small bookcase against a wall. He had a small suspicion that most of the books had never been opened.

He climbed up out of the makeshift bed that was on the floor and noticed that the bed was already emptied and made. He hadn't even heard his father come in. He wanted to take a shower but instead, suspiciously checking the room for people hiding in the shadows, cast a cleaning charm over his body and hair. Then he picked up the clothes he had been wearing the since he had gotten there and dropped them on the bed, disgusted. They had been Dudleys once, of course, and were 10 sizes too big for him due to Dudley's morbid obesity and his own anorexic looking frame, a result of starvation and malnutrition. They were also ragged and frayed, and unravelling because of the amount of cleaning and fixing charms Harry had cast on them. It had not been something he normally noticed, having been used to it and never leaving the house during his time at the Dursley's anyway. However, he was conscience now of the fact that he was at someone else's house, and he didn't want to look like a tramp.

Of course, all his money was in his Gringotts Account, and while he was aware that he could access it from any Gringotts in the world, he didn't know where there was one in America, and he had no idea who to ask. And he didn't want to ask his father for money. They had been in America for just over 3 weeks, and yet they had barely talked to each other. It was almost unbearably awkward. Anyway, there was something going on that was keeping everyone on edge, his father especially, and he wasn't going to waste his time with a shopping trip. He sighed. Guess I have to make do with magic. And while tailoring charms were not his strong point, he was definitely proficient in them. In the past year at Hogwarts his clothes had got ripped and destroyed more times than he could be bothered to count. It was then he remembered.

He didn't have a wand.

But perhaps…perhaps he didn't need one. Minor wandless magic was quite common, and while some tailoring charms were rather advanced, it still should be possible. Anyway, there was no harm in trying.

He laid the short sleeved ragged black T-Shirt straight on the bed. Then he stared at it. Then he stared at it some more. He had no idea how to do this. Oh well, guess I'll have to improvise. He laid his hands down flat onto the T-shirt and imagined how he wanted it to look. Much smaller, new looking. He kept the image in his head and willed his magic to work. Just as he was about to give up, he felt a tiny spring of magic well up and swim through his body. He used his hands as conduits, and the magic spilled out. He gasped at the euphoric feeling of the magic running through him, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

When he opened his eyes, a brand new black T-Shirt lay on the bed. Harry grinned wildly, picking it up and feeling it, checking the seams, laughing when he realised it was perfect. He hadn't used his magic properly since he left Hogwarts and it seemed to want to be used. He put the shirt down and turned to the threadbare brown trousers, mad out of God only knows what, some horrible, itchy material bought especially for him. He glared at the trousers as if it was their fault he had had to wear them for so long, then placed his hands on them.

The magic came to attention straight away this time, faster than he could believe. Too fast, and too much. It crashed out of him, beyond his control, and flowed into the trousers and the shirt next to it and onto the bed, weaving itself into the very threads of the fabrics. He almost screamed, whether in pain or pleasure he didn't know, and his body crumpled onto the floor, exhausted. A few seconds later, however, he felt the magic inside him regenerate to fill the space left by the magic he had used, and he suddenly felt rejuvenated, more so than he had when he had woken up.

He pushed himself up off the floor and looked at the trousers. Invariably, however, his attention was drawn to the shirt next to it, and to the bed. He couldn't stop a gasp escaping his lips as he stumbled backwards.

The Kitchen

Buffy held a bag of ice cubes to her head as Giles cleaned the cuts on her arms and face. The three potential slayers were happily munching on breakfast, interestedly watching what had long since become normal routine for the Scooby gang.

"What were you fighting?" Kennedy asked curiously, seeming a bit glad to finally have something interesting happen. Annabelle and Molly looked up at the question

"Ummm…I'm not actually sure. Giles, help me out here?"

He sighed and put a plaster on the last cut, before turning to face the group, which also consisted of Willow, Xander, Anya and Dawn. "I believe it was a Turok-Han, the Neanderthal equivalent of a Vampire. They're animalistic and vicious, and are the vampires that vampires fear. I…I had always thought them a myth. They are an entirely different race to the run of the mill vampire. Stronger, faster and much harder to kill. Unlike normal vampires they have never been human, and so retain no traits of humanity at all. It's most likely an agent of the first."

"But it can still be killed right?" Willow said hurriedly, noticing the terrified looking on Annabelle's face. "I mean, everything can be killed can't it? It's still dustable…Right?"

Giles rubbed his nose. "I believe so, but…The council records say extremely little about them. Since written word began no slayer has face one. They're virtually unknown."

"Well," Buffy said glaring at the wall, "Isn't that just peachy!"

Annabelle looked frantically from one Scooby to the other. "I thought we were supposed to be safe here with you! How can we be safe wh-" "Ahhh!"

They all jumped as Willow let out a small scream.

"Ah, Will, what was that?" Xander asked as Willow rubbed her arms, frowning.

"I'm not sure. I just felt a major burst of magic. Someone's doing some awesome magic!"

"Close by?" Rupert asked frowning as everyone else looked around suspiciously.

"Yeah. It felt like it was coming from upstairs."

Dawn frowned. "But the only one upstairs is…"

"Harry!"

Willow and Rupert raced up the stairs, followed by Buffy with Xander, Anya, Dawn and the Potentials bringing up the rear. They barged into the bedroom, where Giles and Willow froze as they caught sight of the bed. Unfortunately, the other couldn't see the bed and therefore didn't stop, instead running straight into the Witch and the Watcher, resulting in a domino effect as they all fell into a heap at Harry's feet.

"I know I'm incredible and all that," Harry said grinning, "But there really is no need to prostrate yourselves before me."

They scrambled up, embarrassed, and stared at him. More specifically, at the clothes he was wearing.

"When did you get new clothes?" Willow asked.

Harry's eyes widened. "Last week when I went out."

"Where from?"

"Ummm…Why do you care anyway? They're just clothes." But he looked down at the black, leatherish trousers that seemed to give off a faint magical aura, and the black, tight T-Shirt that, while form fitting and extremely flexible, felt rock solid when touched, and silently conceded that perhaps they weren't just clothes. Not that he was going to admit it

"Well I know for a fact that that bed is not the bed that was there yesterday."

Harry looked at the bed and blanched. Where it had once been a normal double bed with white, cotton bed covers, it was now a large four-poster bed. It looked to be made out of Mahogany, with gems that looked suspiciously like rubies fixed into the posts. Wine coloured voiles hung down, and the sheets and covers were black silk, with the numerous cushions red and black.

He turned to the group and tried to smile nonchalantly. He failed. Miserably.

"Ummm…Mail order?"

No one laughed at the lame excuse. Harry bit his lip, eyes automatically flicking to the exits, marking the quickest escape route. He took a step back when Rupert stepped forward.

"I think it's time we talked Harry."

Harry sneered, emotional defences slamming into place. "Good for you, 'coz I don't."

"Harry…"

"Don't bother! When I needed a father, you weren't there! I don't need a father anymore. I don't need anyone anymore! I haven't for years!"

And with that he ran to the window and jumped.

Everyone raced forward and peered out, but he was nowhere to be seen. Somehow, a supposedly normal, human boy had jumped straight out a first floor window and been uninjured.

Normal human boy? They were definitely starting to wonder.

Sunnydale, California, 20:57pm Monday, 28th August

Harry walked along the street, scuffing his newly created boots along the floor. He didn't know why he felt guilty for shouting at his father. Why should he? He was fed up with people messing with his life. And why the hell should he tell them his secret when they wouldn't tell him theirs? He would actually be breaking the law if he told them. He bet they wouldn't be.

But, as much as it annoyed him, he did feel guilty. He hadn't lied, no. Rupert hadn't been there when he had needed someone, and he could get by on his own now, he'd had to, but…It wasn't Rupert's fault really and…he kinda…wanted a father. He didn't want to want a father. But he did.

Harry supposed they might be worried, though he felt a small vindictive pleasure at the thought. He had been gone all day and they didn't know how well he could take care of himself. Hell, he didn't even know. He didn't know why his power level had raised, why he healed so much quicker, why he was far stronger and faster than he ever had been. He had jumped out of a first floor window and landed on his feet. And it hadn't hurt at all!

Truthfully, however, he was bored. He'd walked around the whole of Sunnydale, which, admittedly, wasn't much. He'd had a quick look at the school he would be attending in a week, had seen the Bronze, a club which Buffy and the gang spoke of, had even seen the Magic shop that was owned by his father. Then he had sat in the park for hours, just swinging and swinging and swinging and going roouuunnndd the roundabout until he felt dizzy enough to keel over.

He was walking back to the park now, after a quick walk to stretch his legs. When he got there it was empty as it had been for the majority of the day, and he sat down on the swing, pushing off the ground gently. The swing creaked, though it was barely moving, just a relaxing motion.

"It's lonely in the world isn't it Harry?"

He didn't acknowledge the voice. He'd decided to ignore it until it got bored and went away.

"But if I went away you'd be completely alone wouldn't you? And I know how much you hate being left all on your lonesome. I know how you'd huddle in the corner of your cupboard and cry pretty little tears that stained crimson as they mixed with the blood on your face. How you'd beg for someone, anyone, to find you, to love you, to chase away the demons in your dreams."

He didn't acknowledge the tear that rolled down his cheek as a honeyed voice spilled his worst moments from crimson lips.

"I'm the only one that's ever been there for you. When you lay bruised and broken on the cold basement floor I stole your fears away. When you were lost and oh, so alone, I whispered the secrets of the shadows in your ears. I cellotaped up the cracks in your fragile little mind, glued together the shattered pieces of your blackened soul. I am all you have Harry. There has only ever been me. Who will hold you together if I leave child?"

Harry didn't answer. He drew his knees up and hugged them to his chest, tasting the salty, crystalline tears on his lips. But someone else answered for him.

"I will!"

He heard the Voice hiss in anger and Harry's head shot up to stare. He almost flinched back at the anger and hatred on his father's face, before he realised it wasn't aimed at him. It was aimed at the Thing, the Thing that had once again taken the form of Lily Potter.

"Hello Rupert," It said, lips down turned in a frown. "I'm very disappointed in you. You failed our son, the son I died to protect. Look what you did to him." It reached out an incorporeal hand as if to touch Harry, who flinched back violently and stumbled off of the swing. His father held out a hand to him, and he went to it, finding himself pulled close to his father.

"Leave!" The Watcher said, voice clear and strong, though anger and fear ran through it. "Leave my son alone and be gone. You don't belong here. Leave!"

The First morphed again, into the form of an unbelievably ugly, definitely dead vampire that Giles remembered all to well. "You think you can order me to leave mortal? Such arrogance! I am the First evil! I am that which came first, before all else that is feared on Earth. I am the Original, the strongest, the one that no mortal has ever defeated! You have seen evil, but I am what created that evil! And you have the audacity to order me?"

The First laughed, angrily and evilly, it's perverse grin out of place on The Masters face. "I would have had you killed for harbouring the Slayer and the Potentials, but now… now I'll have you tortured for your arrogance, and for taking the child from me. But that will come later, when I have drowned the sweet child in the hate and despair that suffocates the Earth, when he crawls to me on his knees and begs for me to make it stop. For now…well…another dies tonight. Perhaps they'll learn that they can try to run from Evil, but that they will never escape it."

And with that, after blowing a kiss in their direction, It faded, leaving the two to stand horrified.

"Another? Who…"

"One of the girls!" Harry said suddenly. "It spoke earlier of…of destroying the line of Slayers, starting with those with the potential."

Rupert though this over frantically. He had not been informed of any new Potentials arriving, so that would mean it was one of the three already there. But which? Then suddenly he remembered. His mind went back to the increasingly erratic and hysterical behaviour of one of the girls, her deepening pessimism and the way her eyes constantly flitted to the door.

"Annabelle. But…what can we do?"

Harry worried his lip. He knew the spell that could help, but he had nothing to perform it with. Then, as a split second decision, he once again decided to try improvisation. Ignoring his father's questions, he grabbed a stick off the ground and placed it on his palm. Then, rather reluctant after the earlier loss of control, he reached for his magic and channelled it into the stick.

"Point me!"

It spun on his hand, Rupert watching in shock, and eventually it stopped, pointing North. "Right then." Harry said, sounding far more confident than he felt, "North it is."

"But Harry, if we find her we're likely to find the Turok-Han as well." Harry didn't answer. He had no idea what a Turok-Han was, and so just decide to deal with it if they met it. It was only later that he thought perhaps he should have asked.

The Street, outside Sunnydale Printing Factory (Abandoned), 21:43

Annabelle ran frantically, clutching the small silver cross in her hand. It had been a gift from her watcher, and it was comforting, if not that likely to save her life. Her heat beating in he chest, her pulse in her mouth, she ran though her body was begging her to stop. She looked behind again, seeing nothing, and ran round a corner. She didn't even have time to scream as a cold, clammy, grey hand grabbed her neck and lifted her off the ground. She struggled, limbs flailing, as she chocked while her lungs burned.

The Turok-Han just made an expression reminiscent of a sadistic smirk and tightened it's grip. She could see pretty little spots in front of her eyes, and knew enough to know that her brain wasn't getting the oxygen it needed, to know that she was being strangled to death. Her vision started to darken, her thoughts became random and disjointed, and just before her heart stopped and her body went limp she heard a word screamed.

"Expelliarmus!"

The Turok-Han was flung backwards and slammed into the wall of the factory, Annabelle's body crumpling to the floor, limp, like a rag doll.

"What is that thing?" Harry asked Rupert urgently, eyes wide with fear.

"It's…It's a Turok-Han."

"That's not helpful!" Harry exclaimed as his thoughts became more frantic. He could see the thing getting up.

"It's a vampire but stronger and faster. A sort of…Ubervampire if you will."

"Great, bloody brilliant. As if normal vampires aren't hard enough to kill already, there has to be a stronger one."

And yet, while his mind was frantic, his body was tensed. But not with fear. Adrenaline rushed through him in anticipation of a fight, his body ready, his magic pooling at his fingertips. There was a strange, animalistic part of him that was looking forward to the fight.

"Stay back." He told his father.

"What!" Rupert spluttered, "There is no way in hell that I am letting you face that thing."

"You have no choice." Harry answered calmly, voice deeper, more self-assured than usual. "It will kill you in a second. Me? I think it will find me more trouble than it expected. Stay back."

He walked forward, eyes always on the Ubervamp that was watching him predatorily. It ran towards him and he dodged instinctively, faster than humanly possible. He ducked the fist that he sensed could tear his heart straight from his chest, and kicked out. The Ubervamp grabbed his leg and threw him backwards so that he landed in a heap on the floor, his head hitting the pavement with a resounded crack. For some reason, it didn't hurt as much as it should have. He did a backwards roll, coming up onto his feet, and jumped back as another fist swung towards him, gasping as it kicked him in the stomach, flinging him so that his back slammed into a lamp post. He spun out of the way of another punch, and the UberVamp's fist hit the lamppost instead, leaving a fist size dent.

Taking advantage of the vampire's momentary surprise, he raised his hand and shouted "Confundus!" It hit the vampire who reared back and Harry backed away, trying to think of a spell to actually kill the creature. They had dealt with vampires in Defence Against the Dark Arts, but not extensively. The only spell that had been offered was Solaris, and that took time to cast, time Harry most definitely didn't have.

He swore under his breath, and just as he heard footsteps run onto the scene, he shouted one of the first offensive spells he had learnt.

"INCENDIO!"

The Turok-Han screamed, though whether from pain or anger Harry didn't know. The flames grew and grew, consuming the body completely, and Harry had to move out of the way when the UberVamp ran towards him. It seemed to take an age for the vampire to die, but eventually, after a lot of screaming, the thing crumbled into dust.

Harry looked quickly at the Scooby gang and the Potentials, not noticing that his nails had become claws, that his canines were much larger than before, that his eyes were glowing strangely. He ran over to Annabelle's body. He grabbed her wrist and felt no pulse, so he laced his hands together and placed them on her chest before breathing into her mouth. The CPR failed.

"Harry, she's dead. You can't save her." Willows voice was low and soothing, but the sobbing of Kennedy and Molly belied the horror the group felt.

"DAMN IT!" Harry screamed, looking up to the dark sky. "They always die," he whispered, suddenly subdued. "Always…"