Author's Note: Another chapter for all of you, and I'm thrilled to announce that between the two sites this story is posted to, we've hit 600 reviews! Thank you all!

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Helping Hand

"In about the same degree as you are helpful, you will be happy."

-Karl Reiland

Main Street…

"So Dr. Xavier is your father?" Angel asked quietly after they had walked in silence for a few minutes. Buffy had explained why he was staying at their house as they left, before she had fallen silent.

"Yeah, he got the test results in this afternoon and flew back out to tell me, just like he promised he would," Buffy replied, resting her head against his arm.

Angel disentangled their arms and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Even though they couldn't sleep together because it would cost him his soul, that didn't mean they couldn't touch or kiss, and he loved holding her.

Buffy sighed contentedly. Even though her life was constantly one catastrophe after another, consistently being knocked flat, then getting back up only to get run down again, it was times like this that she could almost forget her crazy existence. Just walking under the moon and the stars with her boyfriend, talking quietly…it made her feel almost like a normal girl.

"What are you thinking, Buffy?" Angel whispered after they had walked another couple of blocks.

"About him being my dad?" Buffy clarified.

Angel nodded and pulled her a little closer as they matched strides. Despite the difference in their heights, they just fit together, and that was as comforting as anything else to her, especially after the way that she had sent him into hell, yet when he had returned he had accepted her back without once blaming her for what she'd had to do. They fit – as if they were meant to be.

Buffy was quiet for a few minutes while she thought about how to put what she was thinking and feeling into words that would make sense. "It's…confusing. Part of me is glad to know the truth, and I already feel tied to him in some way, maybe through the telepathic bond that we seem to have. I can tell that he seems to genuinely care about me, and wants to be part of my life, which is…nice."

"And the other part?" Angel prompted, as she fell silent again.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I mean, now he's here…but what exactly does he expect of me? My Dad – Hank, I mean – we always had trouble relating. Mom thinks its because he always wanted a son, and even though Hank did his best, ever since the divorce, he's all but abandoned us. Now Dr. Xavier is here, and he tells me that I'm just like his wife in so many ways…does he expect me to become just like her? To move to New York and go to med school? He's apparently pretty wealthy – does he expect me to become a Cordy-clone?"

Angel was quiet for a few minutes. "Its hard to live up to the expectations that our parents have for us. I was never able to manage it with my father, so I always felt like I was this huge disappointment for him. I didn't know how to deal with that, so I finally just gave up and did my best to become what he'd told me I always was – a failure." He looked down at her and smiled. "But I don't think Dr. Xavier expects you to turn into Cordelia, Buffy."

Buffy laughed at the way he'd said it, although it didn't really ease any of her worries. What did he want from her? And her biggest worry – if he found out about her being the Slayer, could he accept that? She was the Slayer and that would never change – but she couldn't handle being rejected by another parent who couldn't accept her Calling.

"What are you going to do?" Angel finally asked. "Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know. I need to talk to Giles and see what he thinks. I don't trust Wesley, and he'll run to the Council immediately if he finds out that Dr. Xavier is my father, or that I'm a telepath. Giles will know what to do."

"He'll have some advice for you, Buffy, but ultimately, you're going to have to make the decision of whether or not to trust him," Angel pointed out quietly.

"That's the biggest problem I'm having," Buffy admitted. "Part of me wants to trust him, and I don't know why. I have a really hard time trusting anyone since I was Called, so the fact that I want to tell him…it's not normal for me. But the other part of me is suspicious because of those same feelings. He's admitted that he's a strong enough telepath to alter or create memories, so how do I know that he hasn't already messed with mine in some way? I didn't have any defenses against him before he showed me how…how do I know he didn't do something to me to make me want to trust him?"

Angel pulled her to a stop and fixed her with an incredibly serious look. "Buffy, whatever you do, do not start doubting yourself."

Buffy frowned, not sure what he meant. "Huh?"

Angel ran a hand through his hair. "Don't fall into the trap of questioning every decision that you make," he explained. "It's an incredibly insidious circle if you do. First you doubt yourself or your memories, so you look for reasons to prove yourself wrong or right. But then when the next decision comes up as a result of the choice you made, it becomes easier to doubt yourself again. It's a vicious cycle, and it's hard to break out of it once you fall into it, especially for someone with psychic powers."

"How do you know all this?"

Angel looked incredibly uncomfortable. "Drusilla."

Buffy's eyes narrowed dangerously at the mention of the insane vampiress. "What does she have to do with anything?"

Angel looked away from her. "When I – Angelus – first met her, she was already a budding Seer. But the time that she lived in…it was considered a sin to be a Seer. It was called a witchcraft power. The priests felt that no one had the right to see the future except for God. Drusilla couldn't control her visions and when she mentioned them to her family, they scorned her for them. As a result, whenever she saw something, she doubted herself terribly. It put an incredible strain on her nerves, and even before Angelus started his plan to torment her, she was on the brink of a complete mental breakdown. With each vision that she saw, her control became more and more shaky and her nerves and her emotions more unstable. It didn't take much for Angelus to drive her completely over the edge, but even if he hadn't, she probably would have lost it completely within a few years anyway."

"And you think that will happen to me?" Buffy asked.

"Only if you start doubting yourself," Angel corrected. "For now, believe that he hasn't done anything to you, until you have solid evidence that proves otherwise." He took her arm again and they started walking again. "From what I've seen of him, I don't think he's the kind of person who would do something like that to you."

"So you think I should just assume that he's telling me the truth about everything?" Buffy asked, absent-mindedly reaching up to toy with the necklace that had been her mother's.

The fact that her father had kept it all these years, in the vague hope that he might be able to give it to her one day spoke a lot about how much he cared – and she didn't think that was something that he could have hidden from her.

"Until he gives you a reason to doubt him, or until you have evidence that he's lied, yes," Angel told her as they approached the Ramada.

Buffy looked around for a moment. "Okay, I'm going to go up to his room and get his stuff," she said. "Wait down here for me, and I'll drop it out the window. If I try to leave with a suitcase in my hand and I don't pay or check out, I think we'll have problems. I'll come back tomorrow with Dad so he can check out."

"All right. Do you know his room number?" Angel asked.

Buffy nodded. "218. It's on that side over there." She leaned up and kissed him. "Be right back."

She headed into the hotel and bypassed the front desk, moving straight to the stairs. It would be faster to go up the stairs than to wait for the elevator, and she wanted to get back as soon as possible. She came out on the second floor and hurried down the hallway, following the signs until she reached her father's room. Using the keycard he'd given her, it was only a matter of seconds for her to open the door.

Even though he'd said everything was in his suitcase, she quickly checked the bathroom, drawers, and the closet, just to make sure that she had everything, but it seemed that he hadn't unpacked at all. The suitcase was still sitting on the stand in the corner, everything neatly folded and packed. She closed the lid and zipped it up before she went over to the window and slid it open.

Angel was waiting down below, although he wasn't exactly beneath her. The windows weren't labeled, so he'd gone to about where he thought that she would be. He looked up at the sound of the window opening, and moved beneath her when he spotted her.

"Heads up!" she called softly, and he nodded. Tossing the suitcase out the window, she watched as it fell. Angel moved until he was right beneath it, and caught it easily.

For a moment she contemplated jumping out the window after the bag, but finally decided not to. She didn't want to leave the window unlocked, and after they came back so that her dad could check out the next day, there'd be no way to get up here to make sure that the window was closed. "Angel, I'm going to go out the side door at the end of the hall!"

"I'll meet you over there," he called back, softly.

"Be right there." She slid the window closed and locked it, before she made another quick, cursory check of the room. Everything else seemed to be exactly where it should be, so she headed for the door, pocketing the key as she went.

Getting out of the hotel was even easier than getting in, since she didn't have to pass the front desk this time. She shoved the door open and found Angel waiting, holding the suitcase in one hand. "Thanks for doing this for me, Angel. It was the only way I could get out of the house without making him even more confused and suspicious than he already was after I told him that Sunnydale isn't safe at night."

"Its okay, Buffy," Angel assured her. "I like being able to spend time with you."

They walked in silence for another block before Buffy spoke again. "You really don't mind taking my patrol tonight? I don't want to risk sneaking out with Dad in the room right next to mine."

"It's no problem," he assured her. "I'll walk you home and then I'll go over towards the Bronze and the warehouse district."

Buffy nodded. "Okay. Watch out for Faith too. I don't know if she's still patrolling or not. I don't think she is, but I don't want to underestimate her, or the Mayor," she cautioned him.

"I'll be okay, Buffy. Enjoy the time with your dad and don't worry about anything," Angel told her, dropping a kiss on her head as they turned onto Revello Drive.

Buffy nodded, not saying anything as they headed up the street. She just wanted to savor these last few minutes of the walk. She and Angel had had so few opportunities to be together without an apocalypse looming.

All too soon, however, they reached the house. Angel walked her up to the porch before catching her arm and pulling her to a stop. He reached up and brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Buffy set her father's suitcase on the porch and reached up to cup his face as he bent down to kiss her. She met him halfway, loving the feel of his lips and reveling in the taste of him. She'd kissed other boys – Tyler and Pike at Hemery in L.A, Scott Hope…but none of them compared to Angel's kisses. When Angel kissed her, he made everything go away – and that was something that none of her other boyfriends had ever been able to do.

She could have spent the rest of the night there, held in Angel's arms, but it was already late and Angel still had a patrol waiting. Very reluctantly, she broke the kiss.

"Good-night, Angel," she whispered, reaching for her keys as she picked up the suitcase again.

"Night, Buffy. I'm happy that things seem to working out," Angel replied, his Irish accent thick and husky.

"Thanks, but I'm not counting on anything yet. Next thing I know, I'll get run down by a semi."

"Not everything good leads to something bad, Buffy. Just keep believing that everything will work out for the best." His voice was quiet and he quickly captured her lips one more time for a brief kiss. "Good-night."

He turned and walked away into the night, vanishing into the darkness as Buffy unlocked her door and stepped inside her house, closing and locking the door behind her.

Her father was still sitting in the living room, although he had apparently gone around and turned off all the lights in the downstairs except for the one in the entry and a lamp on an end table next to him. He had a book resting on his lap that he had looked up from when she had entered, which told her that he must have raided her mom's bookshelves.

"Got it," she said, holding up his suitcase a little. "But I need to go to bed now so I can get up for school in the morning. Do you mind if I help you upstairs now?"

Charles shook his head and closed his book, reaching over and putting it on the table before he turned out the light. Laying his hand on the controls for his chair, he maneuvered through the living room and out to the entryway. "I'm not sure how you're going to manage to get me upstairs, Elizabeth. I can sleep down here, if that would be easier."

"Not necessary, Dad," she assured him. She knew that she could probably carry him up the stairs easily, but that would be a bit of a giveaway regarding her secret. Instead, she headed up the stairs with his suitcase, which she left inside his room. She noticed that her mom must have done some of the preparations, since there were towels laid out on the end of the bed already.

Coming back down the stairs, she went around behind his chair and found, to her relief – since it would make everything so much easier – that there were retractable handles built into the frame of his chair. She quickly unfolded them and then pulled his chair over to the stairs before she turned her back and started backwards up the stairs, pulling his chair with her.

Charles sat perfectly still to avoid overbalancing the chair as his daughter hauled him up the stairs. This was probably his least favorite part about being confined to a wheelchair. He hated the way that he had to rely on other people for some things – like going up a set of stairs when there wasn't an accessible ramp or elevator. When he had first been told by the doctors that he would never walk again, he had recoiled from the notion that he would be forced to rely on someone for the rest of his life. As a result, he had insisted on having a powered wheelchair that would allow him to move with almost complete freedom, except in very rare circumstances. If he couldn't walk, at least being able to decide where and when he moved helped to alleviate some of the feelings of loss and anger that being confined to a wheelchair had wrought.

But he was amazed at the ease that Elizabeth was pulling him up. The stairs in her house were steep and narrow – not an easy challenge even for someone like Logan or Scott, who were physically fit and strong. Between his own weight and the weight of his chair, he wouldn't have expected her to be able to budge him. But to his astonishment, she was pulling him up as if he weighed nothing. Apparently, she had been telling the truth about being stronger than she appeared.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if it was possible that she had some other mutation that had increased her physical strength. It wasn't impossible, or unheard of. Kurt, for example, was a teleporter, but he also had incredible agility, balance, and stamina. And Logan – his mutant healing ability was strictly passive, but he also was much stronger than he appeared to be, as well as having heightened senses. Could his daughter have had something similar happen to her? In the case of dual mutant abilities – when a mutant had two powers, they didn't always emerge simultaneously. Jean had started out as just being telekinetic, but after a few months of training, she had started to show signs of developing telepathy. It was entirely possible that his daughter's strength had increased as a result of one power – and that it had manifested much sooner than her telepathy.

Of course, that did raise the issue of why Cerebro hadn't detected her sooner – but his telepathic enhancer and mutant locator wasn't perfect.

But it could also simply be what she had said – that she had been a cheerleader and was now a black belt. Increased strength and stamina could easily have come from those sources as well.

They reached the top of the stairs in short order and she pushed his chair into the guest room. "The bathroom is right across the hall. There's a shower and a tub, and it looks like Mom has already laid towels out for you." Buffy took the time to retract the handles back into the frame of his chair for him.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," Charles told her as he looked around the room. It was small, especially with his wheelchair taking up a great deal of the available space, but it was cozy and comfortable. The bed in the corner had a beautiful hand-stitched crazy quilt spread across it, and there was a nice mixture of modern and traditional art scattered along the walls and furniture. "This is quite nice. I should be fine in here."

"Okay. I'm a really light sleeper, so if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Buffy told him. "My room is next door." She backed out of the room, moving almost as quietly as a cat. "Good-night," she told him, reaching for the doorknob and starting to pull the door closed behind her.

"Good-night, Elizabeth," he replied, for a moment almost wishing that she would hug him again – or that she was still a small child so that he could tuck her into bed, something he hadn't gotten to do since she was a baby.

But she wasn't a child any longer, and they were still mostly strangers, so she didn't take the more familiar route and embrace him. Instead, she only smiled at him before she pulled the door closed.


It was the sound of combat that greeted him. Years of knowing Logan – and most recently of training his students – had made the sounds familiar, although they were not exactly comforting. As Logan had pointed out, more than once, Charles was and always would be a pacifist. He would do what was necessary to defend himself or the people he cared about, as the automated defenses at the school attested, but he would always look for a peaceful situation first if there was any choice.

Charles blinked and turned slowly around. Everything was dark, except for the light of the moon overhead, but it was bright enough that he could tell he was standing in a graveyard. He knew immediately that he was dreaming. Only in dreams or on the astral plane did he have the ability to stand and walk. But he hadn't sent his mind out to the astral plane – a decision he had to consciously make, which meant this had to be a dream.

Plus, the last thing he remembered before finding himself here was lying down to sleep in the guest room at his daughter's house…but why was he dreaming about a graveyard?

The sound of the fight intensified and he spotted the combatants some distance away from where he was standing. He couldn't make out any details at the distance, but he could tell that it was a young, light-haired woman who was being attacked by several dark-haired men who all seemed to be larger and heavier than she was. Yet, despite that, the woman moved with a grace and fluidity that he suspected was unrivaled.

Each motion flowed into the next. A high punch to one attacker's face turned into an elbow to another's gut, which then turned into a rising kick at the second man's face. There was a hauntingly beautiful lethality and intensiveness to the fight – it was obvious that the woman was not going to give any quarter to the men who were attacking her.

Charles started towards her. He might be a pacifist, but he was not going to let a woman get hurt in an unfair fight – dream or not. But as he drew close enough to begin making out some details, he realized that the woman was rather petite, and in addition she had long, sun-kissed blonde hair. At a distance, it could have been white, or grey, any shade of blonde, or possibly even a light brown.

Seconds later, his jaw dropped in shock as he drew close enough to identify the mystery woman with the deadly, yet beautiful, grace as his daughter. But there was something wrong with the picture. He couldn't figure out what it was, but her attackers seemed…deformed in someway.

"Elizabeth?"

As if she'd heard him, she looked away from the fight for the first time, just as one of the men grabbed her from behind. He started toward her again, only to pause as she easily broke the man's hold and flipped him to the ground. She grabbed something out of her pocket and then dropped down after the man, the object that she was holding flashing down, point first.

A second before impact, everything froze – his daughter, the fight, the sound…he was completely isolated, and it seemed as if he was the only thing that could still move.

What was going on?

Charles turned his head, looking for some reason to explain this very odd dream that he was having. In all his life, he couldn't remember having a dream anywhere near as odd as this one.

A faint, glowing light caught his eye. It was coming from behind his daughter, who was still frozen on the ground. It grew larger and brighter until he was forced to shield his eyes from it.

When he was finally able to lower his arm and open his eyes again, his jaw dropped for a second time. There was someone else standing near his daughter – but at first glance, it appeared to be the same person. Sun-kissed blonde hair, sparkling emerald eyes, petite, slender figure…and a smile that he could never mistake for anyone else.

For a moment, all he could do was stare. It absolutely couldn't be…he was going mad. It was the only explanation. For years he had wanted this, but never had it happened.

"Lizzie?" he breathed.

His beloved wife's smile broadened, but it was tinged with sadness. "Hello Charles."

I'm sure most of you are going "huh?" at this point...to find out more, leave me a happy review....they encourage me to write faster.