A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long to get out, but I wanted it to be perfect. It has a lot of things that will be important to the story later on. It's still not exactly what I wanted it to be, but I feel bad about holding it any longer.

CH16: Wildflowers

Neville looked at Harry uncertainly as they stalked up the aisles of the cemetery. He still hadn't found the right time to tell Harry exactly why he had come to Sunnydale. But the black-haired teen had too many other things on his mind to be burdened by the Prophecy now. Especially when they ...

"Neville! Duck!"

... were being attacked by vampires.

He watched as Harry's leg struck out, hitting the incoming bloodsucker and sending him into a tree. Harry turned to Neville.

"Hand me one of those – "Before he could finish, the vamp recovered and hit him across the face. Harry went reeling over a gravestone. "Stakes," he finished, quickly standing. "Sorry for my intrusion, Mrs. Joanna Whittaker," he read. "May you rest in peace." He sent another blow towards the vampire.

Neville scrambled through the bag for a stake. Why didn't he listen and keep the stakes at arms' length? His fingers finally closed around a long piece of wood. 'There!'

"Harry, I got – "But another chunk of gravestone-shrapnel came soaring through the air towards him, knocking the stake out of his hand. "Ow! Ooops."

"Lovely sidekick you got there," laughed the vampire as Harry fell to the ground again.

"Nev," he said weakly.

"I know, Harry," Neville replied and started scouring the ground for the elusive stake. Harry nodded and took another blow to the chest.

"Awww, did that hurt?" the vamp cooed. "The poor hunter is becoming the hunted."

"Not yet," Harry growled. He shoved the vamp up against the wall of a mausoleum.

"A feisty one!" He kicked out at Harry's leg and the teen had to jump, losing his grip on the vamp's shoulders. "You remind me of young huntress that I encountered many years ago."

"Did she kick your arse, too?" They exchanged verbal and physical blows as the entered the mausoleum's doors.

The vamp laughed. "Quite the opposite actually. I took a chunk of her shoulder with me."

"You must be very proud." Harry punch the vamp in the neck. The vamp dragged Harry down as he fell into a patch of moonlight on the floor.

"What pretty green eyes you have."

"What long teeth you have!" he mocked sardonically, but the vampire just smirked.

"You are definitely related to the Lily-flower," he remarked and Harry stopped abruptly.

"Lily? You knew my mother?"

The mausoleum's doors burst open again and Neville rushed in, arms waving wildly. "Harry, I got your stake!"

But the vamp took Harry's moment of surprise and pinned him against the stone casket in the center of the room.

"Isn't this situation very, very familiar." He pulled a dagger out of his pocket, the blade glinting in the dim light. Neville gulped. "This is the very same situation I last saw your mother in," the vamp whispered into Harry's ear. He slowly brought the blade up and ran it along the side of Harry's face. Harry winced in pain. "Now, the question is, do I finish the job I started on her all those years ago?" He quickly sliced into Harry's shoulder and -

POOF!!!! Was suddenly dust? Harry blinked.

"Hey, there, Deni," called a familiar voice from the entryway. "Need some help there?" Draco smirked and held out a hand to his friend, leaning the crossbow against the casket.

"Yeah," Harry answered, dazedly.

"What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Harry traced the cut on his shoulder, his fingers getting seeped with blood. "We need to get back to Buffy's house. Now."

Harry raced into the house and up to their attic apartment, where Flame was sitting and reading a book. She gasped at the sight of Harry.

"What happened?" She inspected the blood on his shirt. "You need to have this looked at right away."

"Later."

"No, if you don't – " "Later!" Flame recoiled and Harry strode across the room to the closet. He reached in and pulled out ...

"Your mother's trunk?"

"I haven't looked at it yet," he babbled. "I've been too afraid. But I have to know what he meant. I need to know what he was talking about."

"Harry, slow down. What who was talking about?"

But Harry didn't hear her. All that he saw was the trunk. And he pulled open the latch.

Downstairs, Draco was grilling Neville about what had occurred before he got to the graveyard.

"I'm not sure. I was too far away to hear anything."

"Not even a little bit?" he pressed.

"I don't know."

Flame came barreling down the stairs. "What's wrong with Harry?"

"I don't know!" Neville shouted. Then he looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"What's he doing now?" Draco asked.

Flame hesitated. "He's looking through his mother's things."

"What?"

"Harry?" said Draco quietly. "Is everything alright?"

The person in question was slumped against the side of his bed, staring at a brown book in his hands. He wordlessly turned to look at his friend, who had come over to sit by him.

They sat in silence, until Harry finally spoke up.

"My mother was a vampire hunter," he said emotionlessly.

Draco's eyebrows shot up, but Harry took no notice and went on.

"That's what the vampire said to me today. A vampire knows more about my own mother than me." He looked pleadingly at Draco. "Im, why didn't anyone tell me?"

"I – I don't know, Harry."

The next few days passed by in a blur for Harry. He didn't move from the trunk and he spent the hours trying to learn more about the woman who gave him life, the woman he knew nothing about.

He had a steady stream of visitors. The next morning, Willow came upstairs to deliver breakfast and to look at his wounds.

"Well, they aren't serious," she told him, wrapping a bandage around his shoulder. "But they will scar since you didn't have them treated right away."

"Everyone has scars. How could a few more hurt?"

Draco, Flame, Neville, and Dawn sat with him constantly, trying to distract him, but nothing worked. He had barely said ten words wince that night.

When Sunday night had rolled around, the two hunters and the Slayer had gone out patrolling, leaving Neville to keep watch over Harry. The boy was still absorbing the brown book.

August 4, 1980, Harry read in his mother's journal. It was the last entry.

I love my son. More than I ever thought I could love someone. So I'm doing this for him. I can't put my life in danger every night. My baby needs me. Ardesco is angry, but he'll get over it. He says the Council needs me, but I can't risk it anymore. Someone has to be here to protect Harry as he grows up. I can no longer hunt. It's time for me to give up my calling to help my child fulfill his own destiny.

Harry ran his hand over the soft leather cover of the journal, tears filling his eyes. He reread the message over and over again. But he soon paused.

"What does she mean 'fulfill his own destiny'?" he whispered. Neville looked up at him.

"What was that, Harry?"

Harry passed the book over to Neville, reluctant to let it go. The brown- haired boy skimmed the message, his eyes widening. Slowly, he locked his eyes with Harry.

"I think it's about time I tell you why I really came to Sunnydale."