Disclaimer: I do not own anything Buffy related that's all Joss and Co. Nor do I own Harry Potter. I do quote the book, that belongs to J.K. Rowling. Also reference The Exorcist, not mine either. And I quote Machiavelli.

Spoiler: Flashback scenes take place during Season 7 Episode 13: The Killer in Me.

Trigger Warning: mentions of child abuse, racism, homophobia and violence against those who spew them.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry to anyone that was left waiting for my update. I was ready to post on the 31st but I really had the urge to change the way it was that same night. So I rewrote the whole thing. I will make no more promises on updates, that's unfair and it makes me look like a liar. So, anyways. I wrote all this spur of the moment and I hope you enjoy it.

—

Sunnydale California, January, 2003

The entire house had been walking on eggshells around her. It had been a few days since the incident at the cemetery and things had been tense since then.

Spike, true to his word, had told Buffy about Veronica's problems. The PTSD- his words not hers- and the control issues she had. It lead to a long conversation with basically everyone important: Buffy, Willow, Xander, Anya and Spike. Giles had still been away when they'd had the talk.

It was humiliating. Going over the attack and comparing it to the night in the cemetery. It made her feel weak.

She knew there wasn't anything that she could have done different in Cardross. She'd been physically weaker than the Vampires, she'd been inexperienced and scared. She knew that there was not much she could have done to change the outcome and still come out alive.

She didn't think herself powerless or helpless. Not physically or magically. If she had been, she would have been dead.

No, she was weak mentally, emotionally, psychologically. And to her that was worse.

She'd always been physically weaker than Watcher Blake. Smaller, younger, weaker. But she'd always been resilient. She accepted her past as facts. She knew she couldn't change anything that had happened so she just moved on. It was her thing. Emotional detachment.

Blake hit her harder than necessary during spars, she watched the bruises heal and continued training. He made her run laps until she collapsed, she picked herself back up and did the same thing all over again the next day. He called her names, yelled at her and taunted her and she just looked at him with a blank face. She pushed through it and moved on.

But that one night, those Vampires, they shook her in ways that Blake was never able to and she didn't understand why. They were soulless creatures. They did evil things every day and she'd expect no less than evil when facing them in the flesh. It was in their nature. Her Watcher was a human man, one meant to train her, protect her and raise her. It was supposed to be more shocking and traumatic that she was abused by someone meant to protect her.

She'd always thought of it that way. She'd always embraced the thought of death at the hands of a Demon, because death at the hands of her own Watcher seemed unusually cruel.

Yes, she almost died in Scotland and it was violent and traumatic but it hadn't seemed any worse than anything else she'd experienced up until then. In fact it was something she'd sort of hoped for. She hadn't even felt much trauma after the fact. Not until that night in the cemetery.

It was like the floodgates had been opened. She didn't even know that the attack had affected her so much.

She wasn't used to feeling that way.

Helpless. Weak. Vulnerable.

She'd lost control of her emotions and lost hold of her reign on her powers as well. And that was not okay. Not in her book. She just needed to move on.

But she couldn't when everyone kept looking at her like she'd just break into tears or shred everything to pieces at the drop of a hat.

The other Potentials gave her a wide berth, and it wasn't like they'd been chummy before.

The only Potential that she interacted with regularly was the new one they'd brought in from China. Chao-Ahn.

Giles was utterly useless as a translator, he called himself rusty but that was an understatement. Veronica knew Mandarin but it turned out the girl actually spoke Cantonese. Mandarin and Cantonese shared the same written words just completely different tones and pronunciations. So Veronica was at least able to write to the girl, despite the lack of verbal communication available. Chao-Ahn gravitated toward her by default.

"Scoot over, you're in the middle." Chloe opened up the door to the backseat of the car.

Now that Giles had returned, and with two new Potentials, it was time for another group outing.

Veronica had skipped that last one. She'd spent the night in the basement listening to a couple of CDs Spike had let her borrow. The other girls had apparently gone to a Demon bar and collectively killed a Vampire. Veronica was glad to have been left behind for that lesson. Another Vampire encounter so soon didn't exactly seem like a good idea.

Also, apparently while Veronica was downstairs familiarizing herself with the intricacies of Rock, the others thought Dawn was a Potential. There had been arguments and spells and whatnot going on above her and she hadn't even noticed, too enthralled by the music to care even if she had.

The music was good. So much better than the Classical stuff she'd been hearing for the past ten years of her life. It was new and awesome and beautiful.

The point was, she'd missed one group outing. She wasn't allowed to miss another. Hence her sitting in the back, right behind the driver's seat. Chloe stared down at her, waiting for the younger girl to move.

It wasn't going to happen.

"Not happening." She was getting a window seat, she wasn't going to be trapped between two people she didn't even like. She could really only stand Kennedy and she wasn't even going. She refused to ride middle seat.

She could hear Molly and Rona fighting over who was driving the first shift, both girls wanting to. The voice above her brought her focus back to the problem at hand. "You're the smallest. You either get the middle or the trunk. You're choice."

She looked up at Chloe with a scowl. The older girl let a smirk spread across her face.

So she was stupid as well as weak.

Chloe had seen Veronica's physical retaliations with the other Potentials before she'd gone off to ShangHai with Giles. Veronica had overheard the girls telling her about the magical conniption. So Chloe knew Veronica was physically able to overpower her and magically volatile yet she was still deliberately provoking her.

Stupid.

Either that or she was running off some kind of self important high from her trip to China, like she'd been taken because of her ability or skill. She hadn't.

That or she was underestimating Veronica because she thought the younger girl was still mentally vulnerable. Veronica had her wall built back up the night the incident happened, she wasn't dwelling on the accident, not consciously at least.

"My choice? Well, then I'm staying here."

"Move, before I make you."

"Make me? I'd like to see you try."

The older girl moved to grab Veronica's shoulder, shove her over maybe. Veronica turned to face the girl, avoiding her hand and taking hold of the wrist that hovered by her face. She locked her own hand around the girl's wrist the best she could, her hand couldn't close around it though. Veronica let the heat she always held back poor into her hand. Slowly, as to not burn the other girl. Not too badly anyway.

The older Potential yanked her hand back and cradled it to her chest. A pink handprint marked her arm. It would fade in the next few minutes. Veronica had barely put any power behind it at all.

"Touch me again and I'll up the ante. Then you'll end up like Molly." Veronica pointed behind her shoulder toward the boot of the car.

They could both hear Molly's muffled yelling from inside the trunk. That and her fists pounding against the lid. It seemed as though Rona had won the argument.

Chloe rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. "Psycho." She rounded the back of the car to let Molly out.

"'It is better to be feared than loved if you cannot have both.'" She spoke the words before pulling a book from the bag at her feet.

"Ah, Machiavelli." Giles paused at her open door. "Are you, uh, currently reading The Prince?" He shut the door softly before resting his hand on the open window.

Giles had been hovering around her since the others told him about her outburst. Which was strange because he'd been hesitant around her since they'd met. Veronica had brushed it off as not being used to children, or not being used to children with a personality like hers.

Veronica was quiet and she tended to be intense. She'd never really had to interact with anyone besides her Watcher or the Council therefore was a little socially challenged. Blunt. Unable to put up with niceties or stupidity for long. Too intelligent for her age. Too observant and cynical as well.

It all put people off. The Potentials, the Devon Coven, and Giles. The Scoobies didn't seem very put off though, she'd heard them mention that she seemed like a younger but more stoic 'Faith' and that apparently allowed them to deal with her better. Anya and Spike were Demons, past or present, so they'd dealt with worse.

Giles's weariness was no skin off her back, she didn't need another Watcher looming over her. He'd been wary from the start and she hadn't really put too much thought into it, until he began to try to be more friendly towards her after the incident.

It was both suspicious and annoying.

"No. I've read it before though." She didn't look at him as he loomed over her, she tried to focus on reading the first page of the book and not the shadow he cast on her.

"In Italian?" She gritted her teeth.

"In English." She had to start at the top again because she hadn't been able to remember anything she'd just read.

"Oh. Well, what are you reading now?" She rolled her eyes and audibly showed her annoyance with a sigh. She lifted her book up to show him the cover, thumb tucked into the pages.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.

"Is that one of the ones you brought from Headquarters?" She cracked the book open and continued to read hoping he'd get the message.

"It's Dawn's. She let me borrow it. It's not like the Council would have a children's book in their library of demonology and magic tomes."

"Yes. Yes, you're quite right." He stood there for a moment, staring at her.

"Well then," he raised his voice, directing it to all the Potentials. "Let's get going. We have a long drive ahead of us."

—

Hawkins Indiana, September 13th, 1983

"You're going to each lunch with us today, right?" Veronica paused, her hand hovering over the book she needed for her next class.

She turned away from her locker to meet the eyes of one Will Byers. They were almost the same height, her being slightly taller, so their faces were actually level with each other. She liked that. She was used to being towered over by everyone, it felt nice to be at least on level with someone.

She turned back to her locker to swap out that last book. "Yeah, I'm done with the self exile." She looked back at him with a smirk on her face. "Besides, it's a lot more convenient for you guys if you no longer have to stalk me from afar."

He went pink in the cheeks, his blush spreading from his face down to his neck. "What? No! We didn't, we weren't-" Will seemed to hunch in on himself, pulling at the straps of his bag and hiding his eyes with his unfortunate haircut. "I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes and shut her locker. She hadn't thought he'd take her teasing so seriously. "I'm kidding. Kind of. You guys aren't as stealthy as you think you are, but it's okay."

She hesitated. She wasn't really one for comforting others. She let her hand hover over his shoulder before patting him a couple of times. "Really, it's fine. Two more years from now and it wouldn't be, but you're good now."

"Huh?" He'd straightened up, but the blush was still there.

"Nothing. You're fine." She looked up and down the hall wondering where the rest of the little nerd herd was. "Where are the others?"

"Oh, they're in the cafeteria. Today's pizza day, it always runs out first. They're saving us a spot in line."

Veronica led them both down the hall towards the cafeteria. "I'm good. I brought my own lunch but I'll join you in line."

She'd stopped by Benny's on her way to school. It wasn't exactly on her way, it was actually in the opposite direction, but his burgers were so good. With all the energy she'd been burning while training she'd reactivated the ole Slayer metabolism. So she was a frequent visitor at Benny's. He handed her two burgers and an extra large serving of fries, ready to go, without her having to put in her order. She was becoming his number one customer.

"You always bring your lunch?"

"For the most part, Marianne sometimes packs me lunch, or I make my own, or I stop by and pick something up before class."

The hallway grew crowded as they rounded the bend that would lead them to the cafeteria doors. Veronica cleared a path no problem. The other students were still weary of her, they took one look before backing up. Will stuck close to her side, taking advantage of the space she created.

"Marianne? You call your grandma by her name? That's cool." He had to speak up to be heard as they entered the cafeteria, trying to talk above all the chatter in the packed room.

"Huh? You think she's my grandmother? No, she's my foster mother. I don't have any biological family. I've been assigned to her by the state. She takes care of me, they give her a stipend, though she doesn't need it." Marianne was well off, so she wasn't fostering her for the money. But she was also gone a lot, so Veronica didn't know if she was doing it for the company either.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know." His words were practically a whisper but her Slayer senses let her pick them up anyway.

"It's fine. It's not like I advertise it. And it doesn't bother me, not having any family." It really didn't. She'd never had any biological family. Didn't know anything about her mother's family, didn't know who her father was. But it never bothered her. She couldn't miss what she never had.

"Wait, I thought you said you had a sister. Faith?" Veronica stopped suddenly, making Will crash into her back.

"Sorry." She mumbled to him as he rubbed at his forehead.

She forgot that she'd mentioned Faith to him. "Faith's not biological. She's family, but not biological." Faith was a bit of everything. Mother. Sister. Father. Child. She'd had friends in the other Scoobies, especially Andrew, and she would call them family, but it wasn't the same visceral connection she'd had with Faith.

"Oh, well-"

"Oh! Look, I found them!" Veronica quickly talked over him wanting to end that part of the conversation immediately.

Faith's birthday was coming up soon. 1983. If she was in her own world Faith would have been turning three, or twenty six depending on what time she was in. She was avidly avoiding thinking about the dark Slayer and the conversation wasn't helping.

Veronica steered them toward the rest of their group. She'd noticed Dustin's hat first. She focused on that hat as she pushed through the crowd.

"Hello boys."

The three had been in conversation when they'd reached them. Mike gave her a wave in return before pulling Will into line behind him. Dustin turned and gave her a dopey smile and wave.

Lucas turned to her with a question. A very important one by his tone and the serious expression on his face. "You have to answer this honestly. What is your favorite pizza topping?"

Veronica huffed out a laugh. She raised a brow at him. "Doubt you've ever tried it."

He straightened his back, making him stand a whole two inches taller. "Try me."

"Pepperoni, pineapple and jalapeño."

All four boys made faces at that. "That sounds gross." Mike spoke up from his spot behind Lucas.

Dustin did a full body shudder while shaking his head with a resounding "no."

"It's good. So good. And I dip it in ranch dressing." She smiled at the look on Lucas's face.

"I do that!" Dustin held his hand out for a high five and Veronica laughingly obliged.

"That's disgusting." Lucas through his hands up in mock outrage.

"What's disgusting?" It hadn't come from any of the boys in their group.

Veronica turned around to see that they'd been joined by Troy and James. It was the former who'd spoken. James was busy looking anywhere but at her.

She had told him to leave Will alone, he hadn't listened and she showed him what happens to assholes who don't listen to her. His nose was still crooked from the last break. It hadn't been set correctly.

She thought he had learned his lesson but apparently not.

The two had already gotten their lunches. They both held their trays in front of themselves. They just came over to fuck with them.

"What's so disgusting, huh? They talking about your face, Wheeler?" Troy nudged his elbow into James's side.

The taller bully eyed Veronica for half a second before turning his gaze to Mike. "Yeah. Frog face!"

The two laughed at their own jokes while her nerds seemed to wilt before her eyes. The laughter from earlier had died down, the smiles were gone, they all shrunk into themselves. They looked so uncomfortable under the mocking gazes of those two assholes. It made her mad.

"Why don't you just take your lunches and leave." Veronica stepped in front of the two bullies, shielding the others with her form. It wasn't really as intimidating as it should have been. The move didn't really work because every boy except Will towered over her. It was really unfair.

Troy stepped in closer, trying to use his height against her. "What did you say, Maria? I don't speak Mexican."

Veronica clenched her teeth at that. She'd been getting a lot of that lately. She'd ignored all the name calling before: loser, freak, psycho. But she'd reacted once they started in on the race stuff and now they knew how to get to her.

Veronica had her mother's looks. She'd only ever seen a photo once, but she remembered it well. She had her dark curly hair, her brown eyes, her tan skin though perhaps she was a shade lighter.

She had the Hispanic look but she never really was well versed in the culture. She was raised by White people, American and British, but still white. She grew up with no culture, no identity.

She'd only really began to find out more about her background in the last few years before she went off world. She'd still been finding herself when she'd been dumped into the middle of the bigoted 80's.

It was a touchy issue for her.

"I said take your lunches and go, before I make you." Her words came out through clenched teeth.

James had enough smarts to take a step back. "I," he tapped his friend on the shoulder. "I think we should go."

Troy shook off his friend's hand and his friend's concern. "You want us to leave? I think maybe you guys should leave. Right, Toothless? Queer? How about you all just get to the back of the line, how about it, Midnight?" He reached over Veronica to poke at Lucas's shoulder.

Racist piece of shit!

Veronica saw red.

She grabbed at his hand that was touching Lucas. She pinched at the space between his hand and wrist. Hard. He whimpered a bit at the pressure, but she was careful not to break anything.

His arm went lax, trying not to pull and add anymore unwanted pressure. His body came close to hers and she took advantage of that. The tray of food hovered near her face, she took her hand and flipped it upwards so that it smacked against his face.

Pizza made contact with his face, sauce splattered outward, the other things on his tray all flew backwards. His head flung back with the force of the blow. She swept her leg underneath his and suddenly he was flat on his back, his wrist still in her hand.

The room went silent for all of a second before it erupted into a roar of noise. Kids were yelling and laughing and she heard shouts coming from the lunch ladies.

"Holy crap!" She turned to see Dustin jumping up and down with a huge smile on his face. "That was awesome!"

Troy was groaning on the floor. She released his arm and it landed on the tiling with a thud.

"You're so dead." Veronica looked to see James trying to clear the tray and food from his friend's face. He didn't move to retaliate. She could see both a fear and loathing in his eyes though.

"He's right." Mike had come up to her side. He was looking down at the mess in front of her. "You're definitely going to be in trouble."

She shrugged in response.

She knew she was definitely in trouble. Detention for sure, maybe even suspension. It really depended on the teacher that took her in.

"I was taught that this is the only way to deal with assholes." Faith had instilled that in her. A Slayer was given the strength to fight darkness in all its forms.

"Man, I wish I had a camera." Lucas came up on her other side, resting a hand in her shoulder. He squeezed once in a silent "thank you" before dropping it and nudging her side instead.

He pointed to his left. She followed his finger to see Mr. Clarke step into the room with a frown on his face. He marched over to them.

"Looks like you're not eating with us today then." Veronica turned to see Will smiling at her, eyes wide in awe.

"Sorry, boys. Maybe not for the next week." She deliberately stepped over Troy and met Mr. Clarke half way.

"I surrender." She held her hands up to him as though she were ready for cuffs.

He rolled his eyes and had her follow him to the principal's office. He let her explain what happened on the way over. He must have mentioned something to the principal too because they let her off with lunch time detention for the rest of the week.

Mr. Clarke was the man.

—

Sunnydale California, January, 2003

"What?" She had finally reached her limit. Giles had been burning a hole into the side of her head for the last ten minutes.

The glow from the fire cast an eerie shadow across his face. Half was bathed in the orange light from the flames, the other half in darkness.

They were the only two outside. All the other girls had gone to bed already, wrapped up in their sleeping bags and inside their tents.

Veronica was sharing a tent with Chao-Ahn and Amanda. The two girls were already asleep. The Witch always had a hard time falling asleep without the help of pure physical exhaustion. She'd decided to read by the fire to not disturb them.

Rona and Molly had been out by the fire when she'd started reading. Veronica tuned out their conversation while she finished up the book. She noticed someone else settle down on a rock on the other side of the fire but paid them no mind. Eventually the girls had quieted and excused themselves. She'd glanced up to see that Giles was the only one left by the fire besides herself.

She went back to the final pages of the book. She felt his gaze in her the entire time she read. When she finished the book, she slammed it shut and confronted him.

"What?"

Her words seemed to startle him, like he'd been in some sort of trance. "Excuse me?"

"What is your problem? Why do you keep hovering over me? Staring at me? Asking me personal questions?" She set the book aside and turned to face him fully, glaring at him through the fire.

"I beg your pardon? I have done no such-"

"But you have! Ever since you've gotten back with Chao-Ahn. Ever since they told you about my little fit. What are you doing? What are you planning?"

Giles had never paid any particular interest in her before. And then all of a sudden she loses control and then he takes interest.

He looked at her the way she'd seen him look at Spike. Like he didn't know what to do with her. With either of them. She knew he disliked the Vampire. Giles thought he wasn't worth the risk his help could provide. Thought he was still dangerous. So what did it say about her, if he looked at her in the same calculating way he did a Vampire?

"Planning? Veronica, I'm not planning to do anything to you. I'm sorry if anything I've done has made you think otherwise, but I am not going to hurt you." The Watcher sighed and began to clean off his glasses with his shirt. "I don't even know what I did to make you think that."

"You're hovering. Constantly around and watching me. I want to know why. What's changed since you came back from ShangHai?" Did he think she was dangerous? Is that what the looks were about?

Giles slipped his glasses back on as he sighed. "When I came back the others told me about the accident-and I do know that it was an accident. I'm not angry nor am I planning on hurting you. I feel responsible."

"For the accident?" He hadn't even been there and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it if he had been.

"For you." His eyes bore into hers.

"You are not my Watcher." Her words came out through clenched teeth.

"But I could have been." Giles was no longer looking at the Potential in front of him, he was focused on the flickering flames of the fire.

"What does that mean?" Her words were harsh, she didn't like where he was going with this.

"It means that I was originally supposed to be your Watcher. I'd had some doubts about becoming a Watcher. I dabbled in Magicks that I should not have. After accepting my path as a Watcher I was assigned to a more research oriented branch of the Council. Buffy was the first Slayer I'd ever worked with, but not the first Slayer or Potential I'd been assigned to.

"Early in '92 I'd been tasked with training and raising a newly born Potential. Now that I know that Potential was you, I quite imagine that my past magical dalliances might have been key in my assignment to you. I'd been hesitant to accept the position officially and before I could..."

"Blake became available?" She didn't really see her former Watcher voluntarily taking up the position. He had always reminded her how much of a waste of time she was, a waste of his talent.

"Yes. He had been the Watcher of the active Slayer at the time. She had just died, but she had lasted three years. Edmund Blake was a highly respected Watcher. He'd trained several fairly successful Slayers and he had quite the reputation as a Demon hunter in his youth as well. They felt under his tutelage the Potential in question could become the greatest Slayer we'd seen in modern history."

"Fucking Hell. That doesn't make any sense, though. There's no reason to use your 'best' Watcher on an infant. What made them so sure that I-" she pulled at her own hair. "I'm not some great Slayer. I'm still a Potential-"

"There was a prophecy." Giles cut through her rambling.

"Of course there was." Fuck prophecies.

"The only reason they thought it was you was the fact that you'd attracted the attention of the Potential locator while still a fetus. It would take an extreme amount of power and potential for that to happen."

"I'm not a fucking Slayer messiah. It's not me." She wasn't meant to save the world from this Apocalypse. She believed that wholeheartedly. Something in her gut told her that Buffy was the one. She was the key to fixing this whole mess.

It's why it made her so mad that everyone was questioning her leadership and skill. Couldn't they feel it too? Weren't the other Potentials connected to whatever source that powered their line too? Did they not feel the pull in their gut that said to follow her?

"I agree. Actually, I think it's Buffy."

Thank the Gods.

"Though there is a prophecy about a two natured Slayer. I don't quite remember how it goes but there is a book of prophecies in a Council outpost somewhere."

"I'd rather not know." She really didn't want to think of that anytime soon.

He hummed in response, still staring into the fire.

"When I came back from ShangHai Spike told me that you mentioned that your Watcher, a Blake, had sent you into a Vampire nest. And that was why you lost control of your magic. You'd been traumatized by the experience. That wouldn't have happened had I been your Watcher. I'd never even known your name, only that Edmund had taken over the role of your Watcher in my stead.

"When Spike mentioned the name Blake it was as if it had all clicked into place. I'd had my suspicions before then but I wasn't sure if you were the girl until I heard that name. I should have been your Watcher. Blake should have been Buffy's. Then none of this would have happened. I would have kept you safe. You wouldn't have seen true battle until you were called. Under Edmund's training Buffy could have avoided her death at the hands of Glory. Then The First wouldn't have had the opportunity to come into power."

Veronica imagined Buffy under Blake's reign. How he would have reacted to her constant quips and penchant for ignoring orders and rules. He would have taken it out on her with staves and fists and throwing her into danger headfirst. He would have beat the spirit out of her. She didn't like the image.

She imagined what she would be like under Giles's watch. She imagined herself like violet. Coddled. Ignorant. Weak. She didn't like that one either.

"Get over yourself. You've been staring at me all day and thinking 'what if?' You think you're that important? You're not. You had nothing to do with any of this. And you can't fix anything. I'm not broken. I don't need to be fixed. Buffy's more capable of handling herself than you think. Stop letting your fear of The First cloud your judgement. Stop letting it make you question your past."

Veronica stood and snatched up the book from the rock.

It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.

She wasn't going to dwell on thinking of the past and what could have been. She accepted who she was though she didn't always like it. There was no use thinking the way he was thinking.

"Forget about me. Forget about the 'what ifs,' just focus on the Slayer you have. I don't need another Watcher. I don't want one."

She marched over to the tent she was sharing, unzipping the thing with a harsh pull. She stepped inside, ignoring the half coherent grumble from Amanda. She closed the tent back up and then chucked off her shoes.

"Ugh." Why are people so stupid?

Veronica tucked herself into her sleeping bag and shut her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep through the haze of her anger.

Giles yellled. Her body had tensed until she heard the voices of Andrew and Xander yell that they were "touching him."

What the hell?

Veronica closed her eyes tighter at the sounds of their conversation.

She was too mad at him right now. He could deal with whatever the others were doing on his own.

—

Hawkins Indiana, September 16th, 1983

"What's the point of me paying you to write papers for me if I still have to physically write the papers?" Veronica rolled her eyes as she pushed Harrington aside and entered his house for the first time.

She was originally supposed to meet up with him at lunch that day. She'd let him know that that wasn't possible because of her detention. He'd agreed to let her come over to his place after school, his parents wouldn't be home anyway and apparently his friends had plans.

"Hello to you too! My day was just dandy, how was yours? The ride over was fine, thank you for asking. You're so chivalrous." Her eyes flicked across the room taking in the space.

It was nice. Cream walls, hardwood floors, leather sofas with cloth cushions and pillows, a nice lazy boy in the corner. Big open glass doors that lead into the backyard framed by gauzy white curtains. Clean. Furnished expensively but still tasteful. It looked like something out of a fancy furniture catalog.

It all looked nice but it felt staged. Unlived in. Hollow.

There was no clutter, nothing that indicated that multiple people lived there and used the space regularly. No books strewn about, or left out coasters. No worn in spots on the couch, or watermarks on the table. No pictures on the walls except for a few very generic art pieces, which were all just different paint strokes in blues and browns.

She walked further into the room ignoring Steve's snarky reply.

There was only one family picture in the room and it was one of those portraits you get done at a studio. Father behind mother behind son. Dressed in their Sunday best, hair done artfully, complementary shades of blue on each of them. No smiles though.

She was staring at the picture when he walked back into the room. "You look like your mom."

She heard him huff as he came to stand next to her. "I look like my dad."

Veronica focused on his father. They had the same coloring and he had his dad's height and jawline. But Steve was thinner than his father, a little more sinewy and lean compared to his father's broad shouldered frame. His mother was a thin and tiny thing. Blonde hair, hooded brown eyes, thin lips and sharp cheekbones. They shared their lips, eyes and cheekbones. And their hands. Long and smooth, a musician's hands or an artist's. She saw more of his mom in him.

"Sure." She turned to face him, shrugging off her backpack in the process. "Are we gonna do this or not?"

"I still don't understand why I have to write them myself."

"The teacher sees your handwriting every day. Wouldn't it be suspicious if the handwriting on your papers changed and suddenly you have better writing skills?" She'd been burned before which is why she had she had a system, she stuck with it.

Also she reused the papers in the different towns she'd been in. No use writing new essays every time when teachers everywhere used the same prompts for the same books. Less work.

"Sit." She pointed to the couch closest to the coffee table. He plopped himself down onto the cushion, leaning back and propping his feet up.

"Still not fair." His arms were crossed behind his head. He was a picture of laziness.

"Feet off the table." She shoved his legs aside and dropped a packet of paper in its place. "You're gonna need the surface."

"Whatever." He huffed and sat up straight, leaning over to take in the papers she'd set on the table. "This is the humanity thing? It seems longer than the last one."

"It is longer. And I guarantee it will earn you at least a 'B'." She pulled out a couple sheets of paper, a pen, and the novel and pushed them towards him before lowering herself down opposite him. "You copy, I have to do my own homework."

Veronica didn't have any homework, but she did need to study. She pulled out a textbook from her bag.

"Principles of Optics: Electromagnetic Theory of Propagation, Interference and Diffraction of Light."

She had picked it up from the public library the night before. It was a bitch to get through. It was dense. So dense. She could make out the gist of it, but only because she'd studied similar material with Watcher Price.

She'd been able to shift the color of the light during her time with her Watcher, shifting between the wavelengths. She was lucky to have managed that without too much in-depth knowledge on the physics of it all.

Maybe she should start by seeing if she can manipulate the path of the light she produces from herself first, before continuing with the foreign stuff.

Veronica rubbed her thumb across the palm of her hand, remembering the small shards of glass that had pierced her skin.

No the foreign stuff wasn't working.

They worked in silence for the next fifteen minutes. The flipping of pages and the constant scribble of pen and pencil was their soundtrack. The near silence was nice. There was no tension in the room, no awkward fidgeting or side eyes.

"Did all this really happen in the book? The government watching everyone, controlling everything, saying who can and can't marry, not being allowed freedoms? It kinda sounds like the Soviets."

Veronica looked up from the passage she'd been reading. She was sort of surprised by his question. She hadn't expected him to pay much attention to the contents of the actual essay. Let alone want to talk about it.

"Sounds like every government that's ever existed." Veronica set the heavy textbook down on the table between them.

Veronica had a problem with institutions of authority. The Watchers Council who trained her to be a soldier from birth and put her in the hands of an abuser for 10 years, the U.S government from her home dimension who sided with the Vampires and made Slayers illegal, and the government run facility in this dimension that was experimenting on a young Witch. She was more than a little jaded when it came to governments.

"Not us. America's always been the good guy. That's why we're against the Soviets, we're fighting against the sort of things that happen in this book." Steve jammed his finger into the book's cover as if to emphasize his words.

She studied him. Took in his pinched features and the way he had straightened himself up. He believed in what he was saying. Which was sort of sad. The guy, boy really, was nearly an adult but he was so sheltered. Too naive.

Veronica was thirteen. She should be the same age as Harrington. If she hadn't gone off world she'd be his age, but she'd never be as innocent as he was. Never have that same faith he seemed to have in authority.

"America isn't perfect. No country is. Our government watches is, we have laws that harm and control people. Hell, we only stopped segregation a few decades ago. And we don't allow gay marriage. And a whole lot of other stuff that's just bullshit." She was ranting. But it was something she felt like he needed to hear. "Can you justify any of those things, and still say we're the good guys."

He ran his fingers through his hair, disrupting the perfect coif he'd had it in. "Well, marriage is supposed to be sacred." He said it like a question. Like it was something he didn't necessarily believe but something he'd heard a hundred times over.

"Tell that to all the men and women who cheat on their partners." He seemed to flinch at her words. Like it struck a chord with him. "Try again. Nothing religious."

"They can't have kids? Isn't that the point? Get married. Have kids. Repeat?" His tone was doubtful.

"A lot of women are barren, some men sterile. Does that mean they shouldn't be allowed to marry? Come on now, you realize that there's no real reason. Just because the community is outnumbered and people are hateful. That's the reason, the only reason. Same with every other government. The powerful get to decide what's what and the rest are just suppressed until someone is willing to take a stand." She paused to take a breath.

She realized that she was getting a little too intense with the conversation. He'd asked a simple question and made a simple observation and she'd jumped down his throat. She just hated intolerance. It really reminded her of the other day too.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to lecture you. I just really hate bullies. And stupidity. With a passion. That's all it is. Stupidity on a world wide scale."

They sat in silence for a moment. Steve staring hard at the paper before him and Veronica watching him think. He met her eyes after a minute or two.

"You're really smart, you know? Nerdy but not too bad." He changed the subject.

She couldn't tell if that was a compliment. It sounded like one but she was sceptical. "Thanks."

He either didn't catch the sarcasm that practically dripped off her tone, or he chose to ignore it completely. He just gave her a quick nod before going back to his essay.

She didn't know what just happened. What the fuck was going on in his head?

—

Harrington seemed to almost be done with the essay. Veronica was copying down some notes from the text into a notebook. They were both focused on finishing up their work.

Until Steve's stomach growled.

It was loud and drawn out. It roared deeply, a low pitched growl that broke the silence. They both looked at his stomach with distaste, though his face held a look of betrayal.

"You got a Demon in there, Harrington? Do I need to get Father Merrin?" She looked up from her book still perched on the table.

Steve's hands flew to his stomach in a bid to stop the noise coming from within. "What? No, I'm just hungry." He slapped his hand against his stomach once and the grumbling stopped. "Father Merrin?"

"The Exorcist, Harrington. Classic horror film." She uncrossed her legs and stood. She paused for a second wondering if the movie had even come out yet. She wiggled her toes a bit before moving, they'd fallen asleep on her. No, the movie came out in the 70s. Maybe. She wasn't really sure.

"Are you almost done?" She came to perch on the armrest at his side. She saw that he was indeed done. "Just write the class and date up in the corner."

She watched as he did just that.

September 16th, 1983.

"Is that the date?" She hadn't really been paying attention to the days. It had been nonstop training and monitoring and detention the last few days that she hadn't noticed the date. September 16th. It was Faith's birthday. "Fuck."

"What? You got somewhere you have to be?" He said it so dryly it sounded like her.

She would have quipped back had she not been staring at that small corner of his paper. "No, it's just someone's birthday."

"Oh, well go then. We're all finished up here. Go celebrate." He scooped up his papers and shoved them unceremoniously into his binder. He put her original paper back into its folder gently.

"I can't exactly celebrate it with that person." His movements stilled. He looked up at her with sad eyes.

He knew what that meant. Or he thought he did. He knew that she was a foster kid. So he probably assumed that whoever she was talking about was dead. She wasn't. Veronica had no real way of knowing that for sure. But she knew that Faith was out there somewhere.

Kicking ass and taking names.

"Sorry." So was she.

"You've never seen The Exorcist before?" Her voice was strained. He jumped around her change in subject.

"No, I think we have it somewhere in here." He waved his hand at the shelf of books and movies in the corner of the room. "I've just never watched it before."

She hummed, letting her eyes settle on the rows of VHS tapes. Her vision blurred and she knew that she was crying. Tears dripped down her cheeks but she didn't dare wipe at them and bring his attention to the fact that she was crying.

"Do you-" he paused. "Do you maybe want to stay and watch it?" His voice was unsure.

Maybe he had seen her crying. She blinked a few times and dabbed at her face with her sleeve. She cleared her throat before answering.

She knew what he was doing. Giving up his Friday night to babysit her. Showing the poor orphan pity. Distracting her from her pain.

It was working.

She could either accept his pity and watch a movie she watched a hundred times over with Faith or she could go back to an empty house and monitor the girl in the lab. She knew what she should do. Especially as the Slayer.

But she was feeling a little selfish tonight.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

His stomach growled again.

"You set up the movie. I'll raid the kitchen." She moved to the kitchen never letting him see her face. She rubbed at her cheeks with a napkin she plucked off the counter.

She ransacked his fridge pulling out supplies for a few sandwiches and chips and dip.

He popped his head into the kitchen with a smile. "Just so you know, I talk during movies."

She laughed, it was a bit wet like she was on the verge of tears again. And maybe she was.

"Me too."