I returned. I returned with love and trust, and he brushes me off. I could hate this man, but I don't. I know now, what is right, and what is wrong. It took so long to reach this point, but I'm here. I'm ready to learn, feel the emotions I've missed out on. And he brushes me off. I could still be following Holtz's plan, I could still be against him. I'm not. Ironic. I didn't trust this man when I first met him, my father, but now he's the one that cannot trust me. But does that mean that he can't love me. Can't be my father. Or is it because of this Buffy?
"Oh and…thanks," whispered Willow, setting the phone down. "He's coming."
She turned to face the other Scoobs, but instead saw distraught faces. They all sat back down in the Summers' living room. In a time where good news had been received, hugs should have been shared, but there were only statues and silence, as the gang reflected on what was to come.
* * *
"What the hell have I done?" said Buffy, her calf muscles giving out as she crumpled to the ground again. "That poor little boy," she continued, "He must have woken up just a little bit earlier this morning to rush out and get the paper for his parents. To show them how much he loved them. So much energy and joy, just by pleasing his parents. And he saw the kitten. He had already fallen in love with it. Then I snapped the kitten in half and drank the boy dry.
"It was fun," Buffy said, starting on her feet again, but still a little shaky. "Dammit, what's happening to me? Why do I feel remorse? Has to be those meddling kids. I'll just have to take the Scooby Gang out a little sooner than expected."
* * *
Angel scanned through a large book set on his desk, looking for anything on Slayers. When his search turned up no results he picked the book up and threw it at the wall, leaving a small gash as the book slammed into it and fell to the floor. He picked up a book from the trashcan, determined to keep searching and researching until he found something to help him.
"Angel?" peeped up a small voice behind him. He turned around to see Wesley. Wesley looked shocked, his eyes a little wider than normal, and his mouth open just a little.
"What?" asked Angel, on the verge of breaking down, which was on the edge of attacking anyone and everyone, or crawling into a corner and bawling.
"Is there anything I could do to help?" questioned Wesley in his strong British accent. He watched as Angel continued to just sit there. Slowly Angel raised his hand and just waved Wesley off.
He sighed and walked out the door. This wasn't the first time Wes had asked to help, and had been given the same response each time. He walked back down the stairs and into his office. He sat back at his desk and noticed that the clock stood out on the wall, pointing at 5:30. He lay back in his chair and kicked of his shoes, getting comfortable as he dozed off to sleep.
* * *
"Wesley," was heard with a loud slap as Wesley awakened. He blinked his eyes a couple of times to rid the sleep, and only saw blurred images. He sat up a little more to wipe his eyes with his hands. Peering from between his fingers he finally saw the semi-blurred image of a long brown-haired woman dressed in tight jeans, a light blue shirt with the picture of a white bunny on it, and a jean jacket over it. Cordelia no doubt, thought Wesley.
"What was that for?" demanded Wesley.
"Well rather than say your name a couple of times, then slap you when you didn't answer, I just went forward with the plan and skipped a couple of steps," she grinned. Wesley just shook his head, both to regain his senses and try to ignore what Cordelia had just said.
"What's going on anyway?" he continued asking questions.
"Something happened in Sunnydale, it's pretty big news," answered Cordelia. "A six-year-old little boy had gone out to fetch the paper, at least that's what assumed, and was attacked by some sort of animal. They also found a cat lying near his body, but they're not sure what killed that yet, since it's neck is broken. That's not really their top priority at the moment anyway."
"People die from attacks all the time, whether from animal or human, what makes this so special?" asked Wesley.
"Well, it's pretty clear this was a demon. There's two holes in the little boys neck," replied Cordelia.
* * *
A shadow darkened the ground from the morning sun. A red haired figure stood under the trees and a glimmer of wickedness was in her smile. She turned and grabbed two of her friends who hid under blankets. Their skin was cold to the touch, thanks to the early morning. She pulled them along behind her, seeking shelter from the abysmal rays of sunlight.
* * *
Buffy sulked in the mausoleum she and Spike had stayed at their first night back in Sunnydale. They had just returned from Singapore, and happened to pick a nice little crypt near Buffy's "grave."
Buffy's shirt was off and she was examining the mark that Xander had burned into her back. It was almost completely healed and gone, given her Slayer healing abilities. Her muscles tensed as she rubbed the mark though, and she could still feel the pain.
She had spent most of the new morning thinking about what had happened while she was killing the little boy. She wondered if it had something to do with her being a Slayer. There had only been pros to being a vampire and a Slayer so far: double the strength of a Slayer or vampire, faster healing from Slayer and vampire, and increased senses. But now she was curious about the cons, there had to be some.
Maybe my Slayer side has emotions about killing humans, and good things like that, Buffy wondered. She was struck again with a wave of anger and hurt over hurting the boy. She folded her hands and sunk her head into her lap, crying. She had killed a six-year-old boy. She had meant to make it public, meant to let Sunnydale know.
She didn't want to be like the other vampires and hide in the shadows, make small kills until she was going to destroy the world. She had planned on letting the whole world know she was there, from the beginning right up until the end.
The emotion ended and her adrenaline shot way up again, forcing her to grin, even in her displeasure of what was happening to her. She didn't know how much longer she could handle being shoved back and forth between emotions. The sooner she stopped her old friends, the better, was all she knew.
* * *
Wesley opened the door to his office, leaving Cordelia alone. It had been pretty obvious that the boy hadn't been attacked by just any animal, or else Cordy wouldn't have even mentioned it. His suspicions of vampire involvement had been confirmed when she had mentioned the holes in his neck.
Wesley walked up the stairs to Angel's temporary office, knocking on the door. There was really only one vampire he knew that would have reason to go to Sunnydale, possibly to react over the loss of a loved one. Along with Angel's new attitude and uncontrolled emotions of anger, Wesley was a bit on the suspicious side. Although, there is no proof that this was done by someone seeking vengeance on Sunnydale, it could have just been any vampire, Wesley tried to doubt himself. It didn't work, but how many wouldn't care enough to try and keep it from the news, and keeping it from humans?
"Angel?" called Wesley through the door, knocking again.
"He's not there," said Cordelia, coming up from behind him.
"Where is he then? Out for a morning stroll?" asked Wesley, a bit perturbed that Angel wasn't there.
"He left a note," continued Cordelia, ignoring Wesley's obnoxiousness. "He said he left for Sunnydale." Wesley's heart skipped a bit, making Wesley breathe in and out a little faster.
"Why?" demanded Wesley, in a sharp voice, "Did it say why he left?"
"He got a call from Willow."