Part Eighteen

And, she's gone again. No one knows where she is. She could be dead for all they know…but Angel and Spike doubted it. They, though they didn't know they weren't the only ones, were in Los Angeles. They were on the twenty-second floor of Wolfman and Hart. Giles, Wesley, Hank, Angel, Spike, and Willow were the only ones that had come, the rest had stayed home.

"What exactly are we doing, mates?" Spike asked, puffing on a cigarette.

Giles sighed and rubbed his glasses with a handkerchief, "We need Willow to do a power spell."

Willow looked up, alarmed, "A-are you sure? I mean, what about the magic? Giles?" She asked almost impatiently.

"I-it's alright Willow. It shouldn't be that hard and it shouldn't take too much out of you." Wesley murmured.

"That's not what I meant…" Willow said, her eyes shadowed.

"It will be alright Willow. If anything goes wrong… It won't." Giles said firmly.

Angel and Wesley had no idea what was going on, but Spike did. He put a hand on Willow shoulder and said, "Come on, Red, wasn't your fault. You can do this."

She nodded slowly and walked to the broken window slowly.

"What exactly am I searching for?" She asked, her voice already thick and sounding like multiple beings were talking though her.

"I want you to find out if and how much power was used in this relevant area." Hank interrupted.

Willow started to chant, her voice growing louder and louder. The ends of her hair tipped black for a moment. Spike and Giles exchanged a look.

Her voice died away and she slumped slightly, "Here, there was some power, but nothing that would open a portal."

Hank's gazed darkened, then he slammed his palm on his desk, "Damn it!"

Angel looked at him.

Hank met his gaze.

"I knew this would happen, I knew it! I wanted to save her from this, from this life. I thought her Mother taking her out of LA would do it."

"And…you didn't know that Sunnydale was on the hellmouth?" Angel asked skeptically.

"Not at first, then I moved up. I became one of the Senior Partners…*then* I knew." Hank said, shaking his head.

Angel's expression darkened, he *hated* anyone working within Wolfman and Hart with a burning passion. But…this was Buffy's father. He could help them, he could help her. So, he would have to hold in his anger.

"There's more…" Willow said softly.

Instantly the attention was on her.

"The power I felt…it was evil. Not, evil like they wanted to hurt her… But evil like they wanted to save her, they needed her. It was strong."

Everyone was quit. What was there to say? Nothing. Because, right that moment, it hit everyone in that room. Something was definitely wrong. Things were happening, and no one knew exactly what was going on. No one except…

Buffy.

*

For once in my life, everything is going according to plan. I've got my army, my advisors, and my second in commands, so to speak, I've got everything. For once, everything is working my way.

And I love it!

"So when does it all go down?" I ask the seers.

They look at me, their eyes devoid of any real emotion.

"The next eclipse." The women answers.

"And that would be…" I ask waving my hand.

"Three weeks."

"Terrific." I smirk.

"We need more men." Brett says.

I glare at him, same we may be, but he's getting annoying as hell.

"We've got enough. The white hat's? They've only got so many. Maybe 20 men. We've gotten a helluva lot more than that." I say.

"What about that Slayer?" Connor asks.

I like Connor.

He's got a straight head on his shoulders. He knows what he wants and he

intends to get it. But, back to his question.

"What Slayer?" I ask, looking at him.

"That Slayer. My Father…Angelus used to visit her in the prison." Connor said.

"Oh. Faith." I say.

And, I think. She could be useful to us. But, she was so remorseful when I last saw her. You know, *after* she stole my body and seduced my boyfriend and made him think I was a wild, kinky whore.

Oh, I'm not bitter.

But, I think she's batting for the white hats now…

"Tell me about my Father." Connor then says.

"What?" I ask, surprised.

"You loved him. Tell me about him." He says in that blank voice.

"I did love him. My soul did. He made me feel special. It didn't matter that we were mortal enemies. A vampire and a Slayer, I mean, who would've thought?"

My voice goes from empty to anger as I speak.

"I hated what he made me into. A swoony little schoolgirl. I mean, that's all I really was to him." I pause and look at Connor seriously, "Your Father isn't the remorseful saint he makes himself out to be. When I died, the first time, he wouldn't come to help at first. It took one of my friends to persuade him to come." I shake my head, so full of emotion.

I don't know what to say anymore. So, I simply shrug, "I loved him and he left me for *a better life*. This is the life he left me too. Hope he's happy." I smirk.

Connor chuckles a little, "He won't be. It will crush him and I want to be there when he breaks."

I looked at the kid, "Me too."

"You will be. You are the essence of his pitiful existence. He tried to fool himself into falling in love with Cordelia."

Stupid bitch. She'll pay too. They all will.

I walk slower, my stomach is starting to ramp. I feel a deep ache, like it's settled in my bones and muscles. I wonder what's going on, but don't really dwell on it.

It's probably nothing. I mean, what can it be?

Connor and I hit a hotdog stand. I slather mustard on it. I'm not partial to ketchup. I'm a mustard girl. But, it doesn't make me feel better.

Something's wrong.

I start to feel dizzy and my breathing becomes heavy. I can hear my heart pounding in my head. It's like 500 jackhammers splitting my head open.

"Buffy? What's wrong?" Conner asks me, genuinely concerned.

"I-I don't fucking know…" I gasp.

The whole damn world spins out of control. My vision swarms and all the colors meld together like some sick kaleidoscope. I'm pretty sure I stumble over something, because I go flying foreword, right into the street. Connor yells something, but I'm too messed to know really. I feel strong hands grab me and I look up. Connor is leading me somewhere. Feeling like I'm about to spew my insides out, I cling to him as he leads me someplace. We stop in a dark alleyway.

"Stay here." He says.

I weakly nod and wonder what the hell is wrong with me. My stomach tightens into a tiny ball and I slump to the ground, my knees pulled up to my chest. It feels like a long time before Connor comes back, with Brett in tow. There's someone else with them.

Human…

"Get up." Brett says.

I growl at him, but do so.

He shoves a whimpering girl in my face. She's crying, her sobs tearing through the air. There's fear radiating from her, crashing over me like waves of sorrow. I look questioningly at Brett.

He says one word.

"Drink."

I know those words. I remember those words.

I*"Drink."

"Wha…?"

"Drink me."

"No…"*/I

I'm transported through the years and slammed back then. I remember every intimate detail. I remember his fangs sinking into my smooth flesh. I remember feeling like he was sucking the life out of me.

I wanted it.

I loved it.

And, I still crave it.

I remember how much it hurt. How we lost our balance and crashed onto the floor in a messy heap. How he was pressed on top of me, losing control, taking me.

I take a shaky breath. I push those thoughts away and focus my gaze on the girl. Her pulse is racing, I can see the vein throbbing just under the skin. I vamp out, my internal hunger taking over. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor turn away.

Poor kid.

I lean in, my mouth almost drooling with desire.

Everything goes in slow motion. My teeth prick her skin, then I sink in. She groans in pain. The thick liquid flows into my mouth. I moan in satisfaction. It's sweet, tangy, salty, and sour. I keep drinking and I can feel her fading away, dying. She grows slack and limp and I finally pull away. I can feel the blood dripping down my lips and down my chin. I feel so much stronger. Her blood pumps through my veins. Brett smirks as he comes closer.

"Feel better?" He asks, nipping my blood stained lips.

"Much." I murmur.

He licks and laps the blood off my face.

"Can't let yourself get weak. Gotta be strong for what's to come." Brett murmurs.

I look up at my with my golden eyes.

"And what's that?" I ask.

"The end."

*

Willow was still feeling the effects of what she did. Her eyes had not yet cleared and held a hint of black. Her hair was still tipped black. Earlier, she had developed black veins on her arms, but they had vanished.

"What else can I do?" She asked.

'Nothing. That's enough for now, Willow. We don't want to overdo it." Giles said softly.

She nodded.

"No, we still need more. We need to know what else is going on. Willow, I need you to tap into the magic's and find my daughter." Hank said.

"She will do no such thing." Giles interrupted harshly.

"Why not? What she did was incredible. Better than any of the Wiccans I've had work for me." Hank said, his tone rough.

"You want to know why?" Giles tempted, "Fine. Making…letting her do anymore is like handing a reformed junkie a couple bags of pot and saying 'have it at'. You don't understand, you wouldn't." Giles said, his accent think with covered anger.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hank asked low in his throat.

"It means, Mr. Summers, that for years, you sat here on your twenty-story-window-view high horse of yours while your family suffers. I know for a bloody fact that you saw Buffy and Dawn a whole three times in the six years they've lived in Sunnydale Do you know why I know? I'll tell you. Buffy would come to me every time she saw you and tell me what an ass you were. You were never there for her. Or Dawn. Or even Joyce for that matter! Where were you when Joyce was having surgery? Or, when Buffy was in the hospital with a deathly cold? Or when Dawn was being hunted by a demonic goddess? Where were you when Dawn and Buffy learned that their Mother could die? Where were you when your daughter found her Mother dead in their living room? Answer, you weren't there. You didn't even come to Joyce's bloody funeral! Your ex-wife! The Mother of your children. So, don't possessively refer to Buffy as *your* daughter. Don't tell this child, this girl whom you have no idea who she is to use more magic. You don't have that right. You'll never have that right." Giles said, fuming when he was done.

Willow, Angel, and Wesley were watching quietly at this exchange.

"And you think you have the right?" Hank asked darkly. Then he was silent for a moment, "You loved Joyce. You think of my daughter's as yours. What gives you that right?" He asked quietly.

"I was there when you weren't. I saw the tears, the blood, the boyfriends," a glance at Angel, "I saw the pain. I was there for the surgery, for the coroner, the funeral, the *many* funerals. I was there when Buffy was wanted for murder. Do you know she ran away? She was in LA the whole time." Giles said.

"I was never told." Hank said.

"And what could would it have done? You didn't know what was going on. You couldn't have helped."

"She's my daughter!" Hank exploded, his eyes flashing golden, "I saw her born, I held her when she cried! You don't think I've suffered, knowing what she was? I could never tell her! She would have hated me."

"She does hate you." This time Angel stepped in, "If there's one thing you should know about Buffy, it's that trust and truth is most important to her. You lied to her about what's inside of her. And, look where it led? Is this what you wanted for her? A life of evil? You could have saved her from this. From the dark. But, you didn't. And, now she wants to kill us all." Angel finished with a sad chuckle.

Hank looked defeated, his head hung, "I never wanted this for her. I thought I was saving her, but what you don't know is that you can't change destiny. You can avoid it, but it'll always come back and kick you right in the ass."

He started to walk out, his shoulders slumped, then turned around slowly,

"Believe me… I know."