Disclaimer: I do not own anything Buffy related, that's all Joss and Co. Nor Stranger Things. Nor the song "Should I Stay Or Should I Go" by the Clash. Nor the song described at the end.
Spoiler: Flashback scenes take place during Season 7 Episode 14: First Date.
Trigger Warning: panic attack described
Author's Note: It's been a long time since my last update. This is sort of a filler chapter but it's a long one so I hope I'm forgiven.
Enjoy?
—
Hawkins Indiana, September 16th, 1983
It was a little past eight when Harrington dropped her off at Marianne's. He pulled into the empty driveway and let the car run idle in their silence.
The house was empty, if the empty driveway weren't enough proof- the house was also the only one not illuminating some kind of light on the entire street.
Her foster mother was no doubt off to courtrooms unknown. Veronica looked up at the stars in the sky, reminding herself that it was night. Maybe just an office then, doubt the courts stayed open that late. She had no idea how lawyers lawyered, maybe she should ask Marianne.
"You gonna be okay by yourself?" She looked at the boy beside her. He was staring out the window, leaning over the steering wheel and examining the house with narrowed eyes.
"I'll be fine." Her tone was sharper than she'd wanted. She watched as his form stiffened beside her. She sighed before trying again. "I'll be fine. Really."
The stiffness in his form slowly eased as he leaned back in his seat to face her. He stared at her for a bit and she wasn't going to lie, it made her want to squirm in her seat.
Something about the way he looked at her scared her. Something about the look made her ache, physically ache just beneath her sternum. Seeing the concern in his eyes. It was so foreign to her, to see that emotion there for her, yet familiar as well especially on a night like this. When she couldn't stop the memories from resurfacing.
It made her want home. It made her remember. And it felt too much like pity.
It scared her.
She reached for the door handle ready to escape his penetrating stare but found the door locked.
"Really?" She looked back at him to find his smug face staring back with his brows raised. "Unlock the door."
"Stop trying to run then. You don't have to be embarrassed." He turned to face her fully, his back now to his own door, seat belt unbuckled.
"I'm not embarrassed." She tugged at the handle again and flipped the lock only for it to lock again from the drivers side. "Unlock the door."
Steve kept his finger over the lock switch ready to flip it again. "So I saw you cry, big deal. You don't need to run off."
"Oh my god!" She fiddled with the lock and handle while he spoke hoping the constant attempts would magically unlock the door. She thumped her head against the window. This was beginning to feel like that time she had that meltdown in Sunnydale. "Kill me now."
"Everyone cries. And I know you have this whole tough-loner-chick thing going on, but it's okay to let it out. Everyone deals with loss differently."
It was bad enough that she broke down at his house. Crying. Now he was playing therapist. "What? Are you Dr. Phil or something? What's with the five stages?" She turned her head to face him, her mortification momentarily forgotten.
"My mom reads a lot of self help books, she's always quoting them. I listen. Sometimes."
"Hmm. Well I don't need to be therapized, thank you very much." She tried for the lock again only for him to click it before she'd gotten to the handle.
"Look, you obviously aren't okay. I just want to help." He was sincere, she just knew there was nothing he could do to help. He wouldn't understand.
She didn't lose anyone. They lost her. And she didn't know if they even knew they lost her. Was she even lost? Or was time just still until she returned? She didn't know anything. And she couldn't explain what she didn't understand herself.
It has all just been bearing down on her since she'd stepped foot into Hawkins. The Witch, the lab, Will, her past, everything. It was just piling up around her and there was nothing she could do but endure.
Like she always did.
She'd managed to keep herself together for three years. But she was only human, even with her supernatural extras. She had her bad days, and today just happened to be one of them.
She liked Steve. She really did. He was snarky and goofy behind that jock exterior. And it reminded her of home.
And she didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
"Harrington, we had a moment. And you ruined it. You do not speak of the emotional breakdowns, it goes against bro code."
"Bro code?"
"Never mind. I'm fine really, I am. I just prefer to deal with things on my own."
He sighed before unlocking the door for her. "Fine. You can go." He also popped the trunk before getting out to take her bike out of the back.
Veronica quickly swung the door open and scooped up her backpack off the floor. She'd kicked out a few things Steve had littered on the floor as she stepped out. She tossed everything back into his seat, except one she pocketed as she closed the passenger door behind her.
She met him by the trunk as he slammed it shut. "You're welcome by the way." He handed her bike off to her with a mocking smile.
"Thank you." She wrapped her hands around the handlebars and turned it towards the house.
Steve went back inside the car, restarting the engine as Veronica stood there watching.
She tapped on the glass, and watched as he leaned over to crank the window down so she could speak. "The 'thank you' was for the bike and the movie, you didn't have to let me wallow at your place. And feed me, you did that too."
He grinned at her. This one was real. "You're welcome."
He started to roll up the window before she stopped him with her hand in the glass. "But if you ever mention the fact that I cried, again, I'll slash your tires."
She appreciated the concern. She appreciated that he seemed to genuinely care. But she wasn't really comfortable with the whole emotional vulnerability thing.
They traded barbs. It was what they did. It was what she was comfortable with. What she needed.
He rolled his eyes so hard it looked like it hurt. "Get in the damn house." He waved her away while muttering to himself.
Veronica left her bike by the porch and went inside, flipping on the light as she went. She passed the kitchen table and the note Marianne always left letting her know she'd be gone.
Veronica saw the flash of light through the window letting her know that Steve had pulled out of the driveway, his headlights flashing through the curtains.
She walked down the hall to her room and dumped out the things in her backpack.
She went around collecting her notes on the lab, her map of Hawkins, and the sketchbook and charcoals she'd been gifted from her last foster family. She shoved them all into her bag and then she was heading back outside, locking the door behind her and hopping onto her bike.
She had somewhere to be.
—
Sunnydale, California, January, 2003
Veronica loathed the mall and that was saying something because she'd never been to a mall until earlier that day.
Her clothes were always picked out by her Watcher and it was all just athletic wear and something similar to a military uniform: cargo pants, combat boots and t-shirts and tank tops.
Even in Sunnydale she'd been unable to pick anything out for herself. She'd only had the clothes off her back and whatever anyone else lent her. All of her stuff had been incinerated with Council Headquarters.
She ended up with a lot of Dawn's older stuff, just the tops though. Dawn had always been tall and the legs of her pants were too long for the young potential to walk in. But she tried not to wear Dawn's clothes too often. There were a lot of bright colors and funky patterns that Veronica actively avoided.
When Chao-Ahn showed up with just as little belongings as herself she practically jumped at the chance to get herself some new stuff.
It meant a day at the mall with Giles, who she was actively ignoring and Chao-Ahn, who she could only write to. But it was worth finally choosing her own stuff.
Or so she thought.
It wasn't even Giles or Chao-Ahn that put her off the experience though. It was the people already there. So many people, too many people. All walking too slow. Kids constantly running around and crying while their mother's just watched on doing nothing.
The parking lots.
The lines.
The crowds.
She hated it all.
She got what she needed and she was relieved when they finally left.
"Dear Lord, I hate that mall." Giles pushed his way into the house as Veronica and Chao-Ahn followed behind him.
Veronica agreed with him wholeheartedly but refused to speak to him so she kept it to herself. She set her bags down on the stairs and flexed her fingers a bit. She watched the red marks fade from her hands as the circulation started to kick in again. The bags weren't particularly heavy, she just had a lot of them and the handles really dug into her fingers.
"The shop assistants are rude and everyone in the food court is sticky." Veronica watched as Giles hung up his coat, complaining all the while. She spotted Buffy, Willow and Xander in the living room and gave them a quick wave. She wasn't sure if Giles was talking to her and Chao-Ahn or if he'd noticed the others.
"Looks like you found them some stuff." Willow waved, a sock in her hand, as a greeting.
"Oh. Hello. Yes." Giles shut the door before turning to the others.
Veronica dug into one of her bags and pulled out a couple boxes. She opened up the first one and pulled out a mini whiteboard, she pulled a dry erase marker from the second. She pulled the cap off with her teeth and scribbled a bit to test the ink before wiping the board clean with her hand.
"That's gotta be rough-" Veronica began to translate Xander's words the best she could. "Getting just, like, pulled out of your home, being told you're a potential Slayer, and not being able to bring anything."
"It is." She spoke with the cap still between her lips. Her muffled words were ignored as Giles answered Xander.
It was rough.
Veronica had never known anything but the Council. And she'd already known she was a Potential. But she had still been dumped into a world completely different from what she was used to.
She showed her board to Chao-Ahn hoping she could read the characters right, she was a bit rusty in actually writing the characters.
She watched as the older girl read as she half listened to Giles's words. She flipped the board around again and added the part about ice cream being a "universal language" before showing it again.
Chao-Ahn looked at the board before looking back at the others. She spoke to them as Veronica held the board and marker out to her. The girl wrote out her characters in a beautiful script as Veronica looked over her shoulder from the stairs.
"What'd she say?" Buffy smiled wide trying to mask her confusion.
"She's grateful to be in the land of plenty." Veronica hadn't been able read the characters the girl had written, she'd only noticed the calligraphy, but she knew Giles was lying through his teeth.
"Let's, uh, go and put away your new clothes." Veronica watched as the Watcher shooed the other Potential up the stairs. She pushed herself against the wall to make space as they passed.
Chao-Ahn passed Veronica the whiteboard as she followed Giles up the steps. Veronica read what the girl had written and rolled her eyes.
"What did she really say?" Willow nodded at the board in her hands.
"She said that she's lactose intolerant." She didn't even stay to see their reactions. "I'm going to go translate."
—
Veronica was relieved when she was finally released from translator duty.
It was her own fault, really. She'd volunteered her services but she hadn't expected to be caught in the middle of the mess that was Chao-Ahn and everyone who tried to interact with her.
The other Potentials had taken to asking Veronica to help them communicate with the newest Potential. It was odd, considering the fact that they hadn't been particularly friendly before that.
She'd spoken to the other girls more often in the last few days than she had in the entire month prior to Chao-Ahn's appearance. Every conversation with them revolved around her translating something or other.
And she was slightly offended.
Still, it was slightly better than having to translate for Giles. Giles kept talking to the girl as though she were dumb and deaf, speaking loudly and over enunciating and waving his hands about in an attempt to communicate.
She could tell that Giles felt responsible for the girl.
She'd never had a Watcher before. She hadn't known about the supernatural until the Bringers had come for her and Giles and Chloe had come barreling into her life and taken her from her home.
Veronica sort of thought that he was still looking for a new Slayer. Buffy had outgrown him. Veronica rejected the thought of another Watcher with a passion. But Chao-Ahn needed guidance in more ways than one.
Whatever the reason, he insisted on working through the language barrier on his own for the most part, dismissing Veronica's whiteboard. So she'd excused herself from the room and quickly darted into Dawn's to sort through her new clothes.
Dawn was doing homework on her bed but gave Veronica a smile as she walked in. Music was playing in the background, upbeat and poppy. "Hi."
"Hey." Veronica lifted her bags, in greeting. "I finally have my own clothes."
"Oh! Let me see what you got." Dawn patted the bedspread beside her in invitation.
Veronica hesitated before walking over and placing the bags on the bed instead of sitting down herself. Dawn rolled her eyes as she moved aside her books and peered into one of the paper bags.
"This bag is literally just black clothes." Veronica could hear the disapproval in Dawn's voice, though the girl's face was still bent over the shopping bags.
Veronica watched as Dawn began pulling out clothes.
Black pants. Black pants. Black long sleeve. Black t-shirt. Black sweater. And another pair of black pants.
"This is seriously a waste of a trip to the mall. Why couldn't I have gone? It's no fair, you Potentials don't have to go to school. Well except Amanda, I guess. Wanna swap?"
Veronica swept her eyes across the books Dawn had scattered across the bed. She eyed the sums scribbled across the notebooks and the Advanced Placement printed across a textbook.
Veronica has been educated by Watcher Blake and a few tutors from the Watchers Council. She'd been taught all the core subjects but had hated math with a passion.
Veronica met Dawn's eyes. "No, thank you."
Dawn laughed at Veronica's deadpan expression before looking through the rest of the bags.
Veronica had a few splashes of color. A burgundy sweater, another in emerald. A pair of light wash jeans. A blue top and one in a dark shade of green.
The rest of the bags were all underwear, pajamas, and athletic wear. And a pair of black and white Converse.
"Oh, what's this?" Dawn pulled out a little white plastic bag hidden away in the same bag as the shoes. Veronica watched as Dawn poured the bag over into the palm of her hand.
A thick band of black leather and suede fell into her hand.
It was a necklace she'd found in a little store in the mall. Thick enough to cover up most of the scarring that was visible on her throat.
Veronica watched as Dawn's eyes flickered down to the scars before settling back on the necklace.
Veronica tensed as Dawn leaned forward, coming up to her knees and crossing into her personal space. She held impossibly still as Dawn clasped the necklace around her throat, snug with the suede facing outward.
"You look like a total badass." Dawn smiled wide as she leaned back to take Veronica in. "Well, almost. You should change into one of your new outfits."
Veronica looked down to see the pink butterfly printed on the shirt she was currently wearing, the one she'd borrowed from Dawn herself.
It was laundry day.
"Yeah, I think you're right." Veronica pulled out a pair of black jeans and the burgundy sweater from the pile of clothes before tossing everything else back into the bags.
"Don't worry, I'll empty out a drawer for you when you come back. Just don't tell Molly." Dawn crawled back across the bed and walked over to her dresser, turning up the radio as she did.
Veronica went to go change but paused as she stepped out into the hallway.
Andrew stood out in the hall, staring a hole through Buffy's bedroom door.
Veronica looked back into Dawn's room before leaning back to shut the door behind her.
She walked up beside him but he didn't even notice.
He was too busy watching the door. Staring and playing with his hands nervously. She could tell that he was thinking hard. And she doubted that was a good thing.
"What are you doing?" He jumped around the sound of her voice, looking down in surprise to see her standing beside him.
"Wha-? I'm not doing anything! N-Nothing evil. I wasn't going to do it, I mean not really." She watched as he backed himself against the wall, stammering and flailing about all the while.
Veronica took a single step forward and Andrew flinched in response, sliding down the wall and huddling in on himself.
"What are you talking about?" Veronica let the clothes in her hands drop to the floor and balled her fists at her side, waiting for his answer to determine whether or not she should hit him.
"Jonathan! He- he came to me."
"You mean The First."
"Yes, The First. It came to me disguised as Jonathan while I was setting up the new microwave, which is really nice by the way. It was a lot harder to program than it seems, trust me. I mean Jonathan was really mean about it and-"
"Andrew! Focus." Veronica shot her arm out and grabbed his earlobe, yanking harshly in her frustration. She ignored the high pitch whine that escaped him and kept the flap of skin pinched between her fingers. "The First, what did it want?"
"The First wants me to kill all the Potentials!" His Voice was high as he spoke between his whimpers.
Veronica let him go.
She wasn't surprised that that was what The First wanted. The Potentials gone. It had been systematically eliminating the Slayer line for the past few weeks. She wasn't particularly shocked that it had chosen Andrew as it's henchman either.
She was surprised that she felt a hint of betrayal from his actions though. He'd been standing around suspiciously in the hallway, obviously up to something. And he admitted that he wasn't "really" going to do it.
He wasn't "really" going to kill her and every other Potential in the house.
The thought of following through had obviously crossed his mind though and it made her mad.
"Oww. Why are you always so mean?" Andrew rubbed at his ear and looked up at her with big wet eyes and a pout. She'd have felt sorry for him if he hadn't considered killing her.
"Me? Mean? You were literally going to kill me." She watched as something flashed across his eyes. Regret? Shame?
"No, I wasn't." His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper but at least he wasn't on the verge of tears anymore.
"Then what were you going to do?" She was starting to lose her patience.
"I don't know." His voice was louder now, but it still sounded weak and for some reason that made her madder.
He was going to kill her and here he was playing the victim. Curled up on the floor and whining. He wasn't the victim here.
"No. You do know. What were you going to do, huh? How were you going to do it?" She had to stop herself from outright yelling but she did find herself raising her voice. She was glad that Dawn had music playing in her room and everyone else seemed to be downstairs Or temporarily deaf.
"I wasn't going to do it! I don't know what I was going to do but I wasn't going to kill anyone. It was horrible! What I did to Jonathan? I can't get it out of my head! I keep seeing his dead body in my mind and there's nothing I can do to stop it! And I-I can't do that again. I can't take another life like that again. The-the blood, and-and his eyes. I don't want that again."
He'd half yelled the whole time he spoke. Veronica opened her mouth to chime in when he cut her off, apparently not finished.
"I told you before that what I did to Jonathan was a mistake. And it's not one I'm going to make again. You said that I have to make what I did right, to prove that I'm better. Not doing what The First wants? It scares me, but it's my first step to making up for what I've done. Redemption."
She stared at him for a long moment. Watching his chest rise and fall rapidly from the intensity of his speech. He was panting, practically on the verge of hyperventilating. He trembled where he sat, hands shaking and his pulse beating hard in the vein at his neck.
He was a mess.
But she believed him.
"I'm going to change in the restroom. When I come out you're going to explain everything. Everything The First said. Everything you said. And when you're done we're going to go to the others and you're going to do it all over again. Understood?"
He nodded his head. "Understood."
She bent down to pick up her discarded clothes. She walked over to the bathroom but paused before she closed the door behind her.
"I'm sorry."
She could tell that he was sorry. And she could tell that she wanted to forgive him. And she didn't really like that.
—
Hawkins Indiana, September 16th, 1983
Duh, duh, duh.
Duh, duh, duh.
Duh, duh.
Will drummed his hands against the dashboard. He was the guitar and drums to Jonathan's vocals. He watched as his brother tossed his head to the beat of the song, his voice cracking with each sharp movement.
Jonathan sang through a wide smile.
It was rare to see his brother looking so carefree. Will knew that Jonathan had it just as rough at school as he did. Bullies. Being called a freak.
Will also knew that his brother had to deal with a lot outside of school. Jonathan worked some nights at the gas station just outside of town. And he was in charge of the house, and Will himself, when their mom was out working.
It was a lot of responsibility for one person, let alone a teen.
It was nice to see him have fun for once. Will liked hanging out with his brother. He liked the way they bonded over music. He wasn't really sure what they were listening to half the time because Jonathan never listened to what they played on the radio, but he enjoyed everything he heard.
There was something about the guitar riffs and the bang of the drums and the wailing. And his brother's smile.
"Should I stay or should I go?!" They both howled the lyrics out into the night.
Will watched as his brother leaned forward to turn the volume down as the next song on the tape began to play. Jonathan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel as he darted a quick glance in Will's direction.
"Hey, so why'd you want me to pick you up so early? I thought you guys were planning a big campaign or something tonight."
Will shifted his eyes away from his brother and focused on the dark road in front of them instead.
"I need to clean my room before mom gets home, she asked me yesterday but I forgot." She'd actually told him the day before yesterday but she'd been working night shifts the past few days and they hadn't been home at the same time. He'd have been grounded otherwise.
"She should be home by ten, I think."
"I know. I need to finish by then, and maybe even clean up the living room while I'm at it."
Jonathan laughed glancing at Will as they came to a light. "What, do you need money or something? You don't exactly volunteer to clean around the house."
Will rolled his eyes at his brother's words. "No. I don't need money." Will watched as a lone biker sped through the light as it turned yellow, they were the only other person at the intersection besides them.
Their signal turned green and Jonathan turned onto the road that would lead them home. They passed by the schools as they went. It reminded Will of the reason he wanted to clean the living room up a little.
"Tomorrow a friend's coming over before we head down to the junkyard. I just don't want the living room to be a mess."
Tomorrow the Party would be meeting up at the junkyard. It was an unofficial clubhouse of theirs and they wanted Veronica to see it.
It would be the first time she hung out with them outside of school, well at all actually. She'd gotten detention almost as soon as she'd agreed to be their friend and they hadn't seen much of her since then. She was in the year above them so they didn't have any classes together. And she had a tutoring session after school that afternoon so she couldn't come over to Mike's.
Will had suggested he meet her at her place and they ride together to meet the others but Veronica insisted on meeting him at his place. She managed to pry the directions out of him and now he had to clean the house.
"A friend? Mike, Lucas and Dustin don't care what the place looks like. Who's coming over?"
Will had been actively avoiding telling his family about his new friend. He wasn't ashamed of her or anything, he just knew that he wasn't exactly popular. He didn't make new friends. It wasn't his thing. So him introducing a new friend was kind of a big deal. And the fact that she was a girl made it an even bigger deal.
And he knew that his mom and Jonathan would crack jokes and make assumptions. But it wasn't like that. And he didn't want to make a big deal about it.
"There's a new kid this year. Uh, they're in the year above me but, um, they're really cool and nice. Not like everyone else at school."
"You sure about this guy? I mean, I don't want to-"
Will knew where his brother was going with this. He ducked his head at the reminder. He'd been befriended before only to be burned. Kids daring each other to hang out with the freaks or new kids who were scared off by the bullying.
But Veronica wasn't like that.
"No. I'm sure. I mean you should have seen her! She totally kicked James's and Troy's asses. Detention for a week! But it was totally worth it. James had a black eye for a week and Troy had to wear his gym clothes for the rest of the day because his clothes were covered in food. It was awesome." Will found himself smiling at the memory.
"She?" Will looked at his brother from the corner of his eyes. He could see the surprise on Jonathan's face. The raised brows and the beginnings of a smirk on his face.
"Yes, she." Will sighed knowing the inevitable was coming. "Veronica Lehane."
"Veronica, hmm? What's she like?" Will could hear the smirk in his brother's voice.
What was she like?
Will didn't really know much about Veronica. She wasn't exactly an open book.
"I don't know. She does some kind of karate, I think. She plays Dungeons and Dragons, says she's a Paladin. Uh, she reads a lot, usually has a book with her at lunch if she's not doing something else. She doesn't have any friends yet."
"She has you guys, right?" Will felt his own brows furrow as he thought.
Veronica was sort of scary to be honest. She scowled more often than not and she stared like she knew things about you that you didn't even know yourself. It was intimidating.
And he didn't really know why he felt the need to know her.
He just knew that she was worth knowing. Something just told him that she was important. That she was good. That she was a friend.
His friends were a little less sure of her, at first anyway. But they trusted his judgment and seemed to see a bit of whatever it was that he saw in her too, especially after the lunch incident.
"Yeah. She does." They were willing to let her into the fold, if she was willing to do the same with them. That's what the junkyard meeting would be. The first official hangout, not supervised by a teacher.
"Is she pretty?" Will rolled his eyes and glared out the window at his brother's taunting question. He knew this was coming.
He didn't see her like that. He knew she was a girl, but he didn't really notice the stuff that made her one. He saw the hair and the lashes and the jewelry but it didn't really mean anything. He didn't notice girls like that yet.
And Veronica was his friend, so he didn't think he'd notice that about her even when he did start taking an interest in girls.
"Shut up. It's not like that."
"If you say so."
—
Sunnydale California, January, 2003
"I don't know if I can do this." Veronica looked up as she finished applying the last piece of tape to his chest.
She'd cooled down a bit from the earlier interrogation.
She'd been so angry with Andrew. But he'd been so pathetically weak and sorry, that she couldn't hold on to the anger for very long.
She wasn't going to lie though, she purposely misplaced the tape for the mic so that she could rip it off and correct the positioning. The anger hadn't died down completely after all.
Andrew now stood in front of her, holding his shirt up to his neck and tilting his head back toward the ceiling. She watched as he fidgeted, shifting his weight between his feet and working his jaw back and forth.
They were preparing him for his meeting with The First.
She'd listened to his explanation earlier. Veronica had made him retell the encounter word for word. And then she practically shoved him down the stairs as she forcefully guided him to the dining room. She actually did have to shove him into the dining room when he nervously hesitated by the doorway.
Buffy and Xander had both left earlier for their dates.
Spike was off who knew where. Giles and Anya had gone upstairs to deal with Chao-Ahn and the other Potentials. Veronica had pulled aside Willow and filled her in.
She'd made him tell the Witch about his little meeting with The First and everyone agreed that they should see the situation as an opportunity to gather intel.
It had been Amanda's idea to record the meeting. Willow has jumped at the idea, claiming she already had everything they would need.
Verona didn't even want to know why Willow already had a wire and the transmission stuff.
She made sure the tape was secure before tugging his shirt back down to cover his body again.
"You have to." He really did have to.
They had nothing on The First. Absolutely nothing. And it was slowly destroying them. Not only was it killing off Potentials faster than they could find them, but it was also killing off the morale of the group.
Buffy had gained back the confidence of the group with her little show of killing the Turok-Han. The girls now believed that Buffy was capable of protecting them, and more importantly teaching them. But the good faith the others put in the original Slayer could only last for so long without any real results.
They hadn't seen any signs of The First in a while, but the threat was constantly looming over their heads. It was a constant weight on everyone's shoulders. Searching for answers but finding no leads. Contacting Watchers and getting no answers or being told the Potentials were on their way.
Waiting.
Waiting for the Potentials to make it to Sunnydale. Waiting for the information they need. Waiting for The First to finally make its move.
The waiting was finally over.
They needed any information the thing was willing to give and Andrew was going to be the one to get it.
Willow was surprised that The First decided to make its move through Andrew, Veronica not so much.
Veronica could see the way that everyone eyed Spike, something about a chip being gone and the Vampire being able to hurt people. But even though Spike had the ability to inflict damage, he was more driven than Andrew.
He was bound to the cause.
Spike fancied Buffy, that was easy to see. He was willing to put his life on the line if she'd bothered to ask. He was devoted to the group because she was. She was his motivation to not betray the team, willingly at least.
But it wasn't all about the Slayer.
Veronica knew that he noticed the way everyone watched him. She watched as he met Giles's glares head on. She watched as he smoked on the porch at night, staring out into the distance with his jaw clenched in silence.
This fight was personal for him. Not just because The First had kidnapped and manipulated him before, though it did contribute. He had something to prove. He had a soul now, but he'd been soulless for a long time before that. He'd hurt countless people, people in their group no doubt.
Taking out the literal embodiment of evil itself was a good way to wipe his slate clean. Prove that he was on the side of good and worthy of his new soul.
Spike had too much to fight for, too much to prove.
Andrew was still a wild card though. Unbound to the group and weak willed. Easily led. She was unsure of where his loyalties had truly lied until he came out and told her the truth.
"But why me?" He whined. She watched as he paced back and forth across the basement floor. "Why not Spike? He's all big and bad and he finally has his chip out. That's who I'd pick if I were trying to lure one of us onto the dark side."
Veronica pulled herself onto the table, sitting beside the tape and the rest of the recording stuff. She swung her legs a bit as she watched the boy before her stew in his anxiety.
She listened to him rant and noticed the use of the word "us" as he referred to the side of good. He was finally starting to find his place amongst them. Despite all the indifference he seemed to get from everyone there, including herself. He'd chosen.
"Andrew." He kept pacing, muttering to himself as he did so. She raised her voice. "Andrew!"
It seemed to snap him out of his panic for the moment.
"It doesn't matter why The First chose you. It just did, it's already been done. You say you want redemption? This is the best way to go about it. We need any information The First is willing to give us. It doesn't even have to be anything big, just a little insight will make all the difference."
"But I'm not brave."
"Well you're going to have to summon up the courage from somewhere else than."
"Jonathan would have known what to do."
Veronica held her tongue. Her automatic reaction was to point out that he was the one who had killed Jonathan. She knew antagonizing him wouldn't help with his nerves. They didn't need him all high strung and twitchy during his meeting with The First, well no twitchier than usual.
She was still a bit irritated with Andrew but she knew that he needed encouragement, otherwise the whole thing was going to go south.
"Jonathan was the one who wanted to help stop The First, right? You guys were out of the country and he wanted to come back and help stop The First Evil. He didn't have to. That sounds pretty brave to me. Channel some of that courage. For Jonathan."
"For Jonathan." Andrew nodded, repeating the words to himself like a mantra.
—
Hawkins Indiana, September 16th, 1983
It was Faith's birthday.
And she'd forgotten.
Every year she did something for each of her friends she'd left behind. Something small usually. A cupcake or a special meal. Maybe she'd do something that reminded her of that person. Visit a library. Find an apothecary or a nice garden. Sneak into a construction site. Window shop at a mall. Go to a comic book store. Something that reminded her of that person.
Sometimes she'd just spend the day sketching.
But Faith's birthday was a different story all together.
Faith was family in a way the others weren't. So she felt like she mourned the day more than the rest.
Not only that but it was also the anniversary of the day she'd gone off world. Not in her world but in this one. She couldn't recall the date it had been in her world when she'd left, but she knew she'd probably landed in the 80s on September 16th and woken up early morning on the 17th.
So the day was just a giant fuck you from the Powers.
It was a reminder of everything that she'd lost. It was the one day where she let herself just mourn.
And she forgot.
She didn't know if she should be relieved that she hadn't been wallowing in self pity all day or guilty that she'd forgotten.
Neither her nor Faith really did birthdays. They didn't do parties or presents, not willingly at least.
Birthdays weren't exactly happy occasions for either of them before becoming a Slayer.
An alcoholic mother, absentee father and the Watcher from Hell didn't exactly entail birthday celebrations and happy memories.
They usually ignored the days. Together though. Sparring and training in the mornings, a lazy afternoon and a patrol at night. It became a tradition. Skip the celebrations by celebrating in their own way.
Every year on her birthday and Faith's she spent the night at the cemetery. She did it back in her world and she stuck to tradition in this one.
Hawkins would be no different.
Veronica walked her bike through the headstones as she made her way to the older part of the cemetery. The headstones further in were more ornate and weathered, less kept than the plots near the front of the grounds. No one left to mourn the loss of the bodies buried on this side.
She walked until she was at the very edge of the cemetery, right before the land met the forest. She propped her bike up against a tree before settling down against a headstone not too far away.
Adeline Forrester. Beloved mother and wife. The dates at the bottom had worn away, she couldn't make out the details but she died in 18 something.
Veronica sat against the tombstone and set her backpack down beside her.
The graveyard was silent save the trees and the crickets. The side of the cemetery she was in was dark, further away from the streetlights and roads but the moon was just waxing so it wasn't too dark.
It was eerie being in such a silent cemetery. Back in her home world the cemeteries were always busy.
There were always Slayers patrolling, Vampires lurking and what not. Andrew gossiping about the minis or telling her about his latest nerdy obsession. Faith bragging about her latest slay or whatever tale tickled her fancy.
Even when she was by herself the cemetery always seemed to have a constant hum in the background. The magic from the consecrated grounds, the magic from the Vampires and Demons that prowled around. It all hummed. A constant buzzing in the back of her mind that she had grown used to.
Stepping into a graveyard used to bring about a wave of energy that washed over her entire being. Waking the Slayer within. The Witch too.
When she stepped through the gates of Hawkins Cemetery all she felt was hollow.
Longing.
She dug into her pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She'd stolen them from Steve. He didn't need them.
She pulled out a single cigarette and rolled it between her fingers. Funny how a little stick could kill you. Faith was never worried though. The life they lived would kill them before cancer would, or at least that's what the older Slayer always told her.
There was always a lingering scent of smoke on Faith. It was one of the clearest things she remembered about her mentor.
Veronica was beginning to forget. The date had slipped her mind, yes, but that was only the beginning. She was beginning to lose the details, slowly but surely. The image she had of the original Slayer was beginning to blur within her mind. The images of everyone really.
She could recall the big stuff but the little things were fading fast.
Veronica slipped the unlit death stick between her lips as she pulled out her sketchbook and charcoals.
She started with the eyes.
Almond shaped, and pulled down a bit at the outer corners. A slight dusting of shadow and full but short lashes. She shaded in the irises a medium grey seeing as she was working with black and whites. She gave the brows a soft arch but lingered there.
She couldn't recall the slope of her nose or the shape of her face. She traced a line down the page with her coal stained fingers, leaving behind a trail of grey.
She could no longer picture the smirk that she knew the Slayer pulled more often than not. She couldn't remember the exact design of the tattoo the woman constantly showed off.
Veronica flipped the page to start again.
She couldn't even recall the shape of Andrew's eyes, she'd just drawn his brows and irises and the outline of his jaw.
A new page.
She ended up just drawing Xander's eyepatch and that was technically cheating.
Her eyes began to water so she shut the book, not wanting to ruin the pages with tears.
She tilted her head back so she was looking up at the moon, her head resty against Adeline's headstone.
She'd been off-world for three years.
She wasn't going back. No matter how much she wanted to go home, she was stuck here. She had to accept that.
She thought she had accepted it, actually.
She'd been focused on her mission and she'd been making an effort to fit in with Will and his friends. She'd thought she was okay. And then a couple words on an English paper ripped her steely appearance to shreds.
Goddess, she was pathetic. She'd spent the afternoon fighting off tears and here she was again. Crying. This time in a cemetery.
Veronica let her eyes go gold. Willing heat into the tip of her forefinger. She pressed it to the tip of the cigarette between her lips and kept it there until the thing lit up.
She watched as a single wisp of smoke rose from the glowing end and disappeared into the air above her. She didn't inhale. She just let the scent of the smoke and tobacco fill her nose.
She hoped the smell would ground her. If not then the burn of the ash.
She let her eyes fall shut and she pushed her magic outward. Searching. Reaching for that girl in the lab.
She was making progress. She was making friends. She was settling in. She was working on her powers. She was letting the past go, letting it slip between her fingers.
But she'd been avoiding something, that connection she'd made with the Witch in the lab. The way she'd slipped into the girl's mind.
She'd been working on everything but that.
It was finally time to try again.
—
Sunnydale California, January, 2003
It was early morning when Veronica tiptoed around Chao-Ahn's sleeping form. Dawn was spread eagled across the bed snoring softly, while Amanda clung to the very edge of the mattress. Everyone had gone to bed late, working on the sting for The First and waiting for Buffy and Spike to bring Xander home safe.
It had been an exhausting night, yet she couldn't go to sleep. The others had drifted off fairly soon after turning the lights out. Veronica had stared up at the ceiling for the past few hours, waiting for sleep to take her but being left disappointed.
Her mind just wouldn't shut off. She kept thinking and playing over the events of the day.
Her conversations with Andrew. The anger he'd caused. The hurt too. Xander's torso wrapped in bandages. The image of Jonathan's corpse in the basement. The First's taunting words playing on a constant loop in her head.
You think this was smart?
You think you could trick me?
You'll only hear what I want you to hear.
You'll only see what I want you to see.
So many dead girls.
There'll be so many.
They'd angered the literal embodiment of evil. And they'd learned nothing new in the process.
She'd been seeing Jonathan's decaying face and picturing the same decay in everyone else's image. Buffy, Dawn, Willow, Xander, Anya, Giles. The Potentials. Herself.
Grey waxy skin, bloody, unseeing pale eyes. Dead.
Every time she closed her eyes she saw corpses.
She needed to distract herself. And she needed to pee. So she crept out of the room she shared with Dawn and the others and shut the door softly behind her.
She found herself downstairs after using the restroom.
The whole house was in darkness. Everyone was asleep and it was early enough that it was still dark out. Though Spike was probably still awake somewhere, she supposed.
Xander and Andrew had both claimed a couch as their own. Xander was unable to drive with his injury and Andrew was banned from sharing a room with any of the house's other occupants.
Veronica slipped past them both, though it wasn't really hard to do so as they were both notoriously heavy sleepers.
She found herself sitting at the dining room table, a few sheets of paper in front of her and a pencil in her hand.
She started to sketch.
She hadn't really drawn anything since sometime before the Council bombing. It was something she had liked to do in her free time, what little free time she was actually permitted.
Traveling from the different Council outposts they called home. The visits to Headquarters when Blake was busy in meetings. The rare days her Watcher was too lazy to train her to death. These were the only times she was allowed to herself.
Watcher Blake preferred that Veronica spent her time reading. Classic novels mostly. She'd have rather read the many grimoires that lined the libraries in each house they occupied, but Blake disliked witchcraft with a passion. He'd avoided the subject material after he'd touched upon the basics, and he left the real stuff to Price and anyone else the Council assigned.
Veronica had read all the books Buffy's home had to offer, she may have just skimmed the spell books but still.
Veronica used to find herself drawing a lot in her time with her past Watcher. Often when he left her alone to study she'd sketch out the scene outside a window nearby, or an antique that lined the room.
She'd tuck her drawings away when he'd come in to check on her, fearing what he'd do if he found out she'd wasted her time on silly drawings instead of the demonology texts he'd assigned.
She'd once had a collection of little sketches she'd kept hidden in her room. Watcher Blake had found them and tossed them into the fireplace. He then made her run laps around the house until she could no longer continue. "You waste my time? I waste yours."
It was nights like this that she almost wished Blake was there to train her into unconsciousness. So that she could finally sleep.
Maybe her body just didn't know how to function normally anymore? Either that or the constant threat of death was stressing her out more than she'd originally thought. Either way, it seemed like she hadn't been able to get a decent night's sleep since she'd gotten to Sunnydale.
She found herself looking into the dead eyes of Jonathan. She'd sketched the image of his decaying body, almost unconsciously. A mirror of the image that she saw every time she closed her eyes.
Veronica slipped the sketch into the bottom of her stack of paper. She didn't need to dwell on the image any more than she already had.
A snort brought her attention back to the living room. She didn't know which one of the two had broken her out of her thoughts, but she was grateful.
She moved on to sketching the image of Xander's form laid out on the couch, his bandages exposed and his arm hanging limply off the couch. She was just starting in on the shading when light began to filter in through the windowed doors.
Her pencil hovered over the outline of Xander's hair when a creek from the stairs caught her attention.
Veronica watched a tired Willow turn the corner with a few tomes tucked beneath her arm.
"Oh, you're up early." Veronica watched as the redheaded Witch set her books down by the seat in front of her.
"I never went to sleep." Veronica's response was met with a frown.
Willow sighed. "Me neither, to be honest." The older Witch ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. "I keep hearing The First in my head. 'You think this was smart?' I'm such an idiot. We didn't even get anything good, and now The First is all angry."
Out of all the leaders in the group Willow was the most open. She wore her emotions out on her sleeve and she couldn't hide her expressions to save her life.
At first Veronica had been suspicious about that. As if all the babble and smiles were an act. But she'd seen more emotions from Willow as time went on. Her lightheartedness wasn't an act, it was just her default mood. She was equally as expressive in her frustration and fear, and it was reassuring.
Buffy seemed to be stoic every time something bad happened. And Xander was always hiding behind his jokes.
Willow's frustration comforted Veronica, let her know that she wasn't alone in her worries.
Veronica pulled out the sheet of paper with Jonathan's image and slid it to the woman in front of her. "I keep seeing Jonathan's body."
Willow looked at the drawing, running a hand down the image as she took it in. "Well, aren't we a pair?"
The two Witches looked at each other with tired eyes and strained smiles.
"What are the books for?" Veronica reached over and tapped the end of her pencil against a leather bound cover.
"Xander refused to go to the hospital to have his stomach checked out. He says it doesn't really hurt, but it did stop him from driving home. Not sure how deep the wound goes, either. I'm hoping there'll be a spell or potion that'll help heal whatever damage is there. Do you mind helping me look?"
"Sure. No problem." Veronica dragged the first book to her side of the table and carefully opened it to the first page. She was met with a wall of handwritten Latin text.
This was going to be a long morn-
"Actually, I might have a grimoire that can help." Veronica hadn't had much left to bring with her when Giles picked her up from the Devon Coven. She'd been dropped off with the Witches for an assessment hours before the bombing. She'd stayed with the coven until Giles had arrived. And though the coven had treated her well Veronica had stolen a tome from their library.
The book contained spells and rituals for healing. Healing magic was advanced and taxing and difficult. It took major amounts of magic and energy. More often than not the rituals required blood sacrifice ranging from a few drops of blood to death. It really depended on the level of damage that needed to be healed.
Veronica had been hoping to find a way to heal away the scarred flesh on her neck and shoulder. Unfortunately the spells within were meant for fresh wounds. Scarring couldn't be healed away. One would have to reopen the wound or cut off the scarred surface before mending the skin back together, unmarred and whole.
"I thought everything you owned blew up with the Council?" Willow leaned into the table as she took in Veronica's words.
"I might have borrowed the book from the Devon Coven." She didn't even blink as she spoke the words to the older woman.
"Borrowed? Veronica, they don't just lend out their texts. Trust me! I've asked." Veronica quirk a brow at the bitterness in that last sentence.
"Okay. I stole the book from the Devon Coven. The point is, I have a book on healing magic." It was just semantics, really. What did it matter? So long as she had what they needed who cared where she got the book from?
"You can't just steal from a coven like that! A lot of the books and rituals are passed down from generation to generation. I mean, that's like stealing a diary or a, uh, family cookbook! The recipes are for family eyes only!" There was a hint of panic in her voice and Veronica didn't understand where it was coming from. She'd had the spell book for several months and she hadn't been punished or smited yet. The Sunnydale group was regularly in contact with the Devon Coven and it hadn't come up even once in the many phone calls exchanged. She was in the clear as far as she was concerned.
"You know the Devon Coven right?" At Willow's nod of confirmation Veronica continued. "Then you know that the coven is home to some of the most powerful psychics in the world. There's no way I could have stolen anything without them seeing it before it was even a thought in my head. They didn't stop me. And there weren't any protections in the book. Sounds like an invitation to me."
"Oh, Gods." Willow shook her head before pushing herself away from the table. "Just bring the book down here. I'm going to make myself some coffee and pretend I don't know where you got the book from."
"I'll go do that."
"You better."
—
Hawkins Indiana, September 16th, 1983
Finding the girl in the lab was easy.
She visited the girl through her magic almost every night. The other Witch was almost always awake. Sometimes she'd just be calm, the aura around her core brighter than usual, less murky. More often than not though she'd find the girl's aura in a state of panic. Her blue-green tone tainted dark, and the steady pulse of her magic turned erratic.
This time was a mix of both. The girl wasn't in a panic, but it wasn't calm either.
Veronica's magic brushed along the girl's core and felt a shiver of fear run down her own spine. It wasn't the same terrifying feeling she'd experienced the first time.
This fear was quieter, weaker.
The kind of fear you felt as you walked down a dark street by yourself. Like you were anticipating fear more than you were actually feeling it.
Veronica allowed her tendrils on magic to wrap itself around the girl's core. She could see the gold wisps lick across the murky sphere of magic.
Veronica pulled the cigarette from her mouth and took a deep breath, before settling the stick back between her parted lips.
She pushed forward, mentally. Allowing her magic to take that last step.
She watched as gold tendrils seeped into the teal-ish core beneath them. Her magic and the girl's entangled, entwining until she couldn't see the seams between them.
Veronica opened her eyes and saw a dark room. It almost seemed like her eyes were still closed but she could make out the barest hint of light coming from the outline of a door.
The light was moving though.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Again and again.
But the light wasn't moving. The girl was. Back and forth she rocked. The thin strips of light seemingly floating around in the darkness.
Veronica could hear the brushing of fabric and the slap of bare skin meeting linoleum as she felt herself rocking back and forth. She could feel herself panting, trying to control her breathing. She could feel the beating of her heart hammering against her chest and hear her pulse roaring in her ears.
It was cold.
And Dark.
And she couldn't breathe.
And-
Veronica jumped as she choked on a cloud of smoke. Her hand blindly fumbled for the cigarette between her lips. She coughed as she stubbed the cigarette out onto the tombstone behind her, silently apologizing to Adeline.
It wasn't her.
It wasn't Veronica feeling those things. It wasn't Veronica that was trapped in a dark room.
Veronica was finally able to separate herself from the girl in the lab. Sure she'd had to choke on a mouth full of smoke to do it, but it happened.
Veronica watched as the room continued to tilt back and forth.
She could still feel the girl's panic, but it was secondary. The same way she read auras, she felt it but wasn't a part of it.
Veronica felt a wave of sadness crash over her, the girl's not hers. It pooled in her chest and she felt a physical ache as the girl began to cry.
"Papa." She listened to the girl as she whispered for help.
"Shh." Veronica tried to calm the girl. Shushing her in a soothing whisper only for her words to go unnoticed.
"It's okay." Veronica tried to send the words along mentally but it wasn't working. "Don't cry."
"Papa!" She listened as the girl's voice broke as she cried out for help. She could feel tears running down her cheeks. Both hers and the girl's.
"Gods, I'm so fucking sorry."
This was bullshit.
How the fuck was she supposed to help this girl? She couldn't get into the damn lab. And all she could do was ride passenger in the girl's mind. She was practically screaming out to the girl but it seemed the connection was definitely only one way.
Veronica listened as the Witch began to hyperventilate. Her breathing ragged. Choking on her saliva in between breaths and pleads for help.
"Fuck."
The girl was having a meltdown. Veronica could feel the girl's magic coiling tight, readying itself for a dangerous release. She could feel her own magic building in response.
Veronica thought back to her own magical outbursts. Thought back to what soothed her down.
She began to hum.
Hmm, hm, hmmm.
Hm.
Hmm, hm, hmmmmm.
Hmm, hm, hmmm.
Hm, hm, hm.
She hummed again and again until she felt the magic within herself calm.
Veronica noticed that the girl's magic had also calmed. No longer was it wound tight, ready to explode.
Everything about the girl had calmed actually.
She was no longer rocking back and forth. Instead she was lying on the cool floor, her cheek pressed into the tile and her hands curled beneath her chin and neck respectively.
The outline of the door was still there, just turned on its axis. Until her eyelids shut.
The girl's breathing was calm, so was her pulse.
Veronica stopped humming.
But the melody continued on in her mind.
"Hmm, hm, hmmm." The girl in the lab hummed Veronica's tune, continuing the song without her.
"Holy shit. Can you hear me?" Veronica spoke the words out loud and within her mind but she didn't get a response.
She just listened as the girl finished up the song before starting over again.
Hmm, hm, hmmm.
Veronica listened until the humming stopped. And when it did she pulled herself out of the girl's mind with relative ease compared to last time.
She could feel the ache in her chest as she pried their auras apart. Gold wisps rising up from the sea-like core, unraveling and untangling itself from the magic within.
Veronica pulled until their last tendrils of magic separated. Her head snapped back against the headstone behind her.
Veronica rubbed at the back of her head with one hand and touched her lip with the other.
She was bleeding again.
Her upper lip was wet with blood, but it didn't seem to be as bad as before. She wiped at her nose with the sleeve of her jacket, before packing up her stuff.
She checked her watch and saw that it was past midnight. She'd been in her trance for hours.
She needed to get home.
—
Author Note: Okay. It has been a couple months since my last update and I want to apologize to the readers who've been asking about the next update. I'm sorry it took so long for me to post. I absolutely love Buffy but season 7 is some of the most difficult to get through because the episodes are emotionally/character driven. It's been difficult to find a way to blend in my character with the cast with the scenes shown without inserting my OC into storylines that are beyond her role. As you can probably see I'm following a pattern with the Buffy flashbacks, and the really good stuff doesn't happen for another couple episodes. I've just had major writers block and have been putting off attempting this fic because of it. But I am back, I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but there will be another chapter. I have no plans to abandon this fic. Hopefully I can get the next chapter up in a few weeks.
P.S: I'm so glad to see a lot of feedback from this fic. I love the fact that people are asking about plot points and trying to figure things out.
P.P.S: I hope everyone is doing well. Stay safe and healthy.