Reckless Season Two Chapter 11: Second Chances, a buffy: the vampire slayer fanfic

Second Chances - Act 1

Hanna had held onto the bitterness for days, her eyes cold and without forgiveness each time she looked to her father. But now she was different. She was bitter for a reason. Logan had forbidden her to see Matt, and she was secretly seeing him anyway. And everything was fine. Obviously her father was mistaken and couldn't see it: couldn't see that Matt was safe – that they loved each other. That was the reason for Hanna's current glares each time Logan looked at her.

"Have a good day at school, sweetie," Rachel handed her daughter her backpack and unlocked the front door.

"Thanks mom, I will," Hanna smiled at her mother, opening the door and tossing a disdainful look to her father sitting in the living room. She was out the door and gone before Logan could open his mouth to speak.

As Rachel watched Hanna go, Logan set down the newspaper and drew a tired breath. "She's never going to forgive me, is she?" Though the question was somewhat rhetorical, he expected at least some token support from the woman standing by the door.

Instead, Rachel just scoffed with contempt and returned to the kitchen. Any reason she should? he could hear her unspoken thoughts.

The fights were quieting down now. Looks of scorn, silences instead of words. The only time they raised their voices was to fight about little things. Late for dinner. Didn't pick up eggs. Dishes aren't done. Marriage is crumbling.

Logan reached for the paper, but as his fingers touched its surface he stopped. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa, massaging his temples. Marriage is crumbling. What side of that argument would he end up on?

Niki looked out through bleary eyes to the grey light of a rainy morning. As the sun peeked between the clouds, she licked her dry lips and groaned, holding her throbbing head. Her internal clock told her it was time for coffee. Lots and lots of black coffee. But in this alley in Queens, outside of the demon bar, there was none to be had.

A pair of vampire eyes watched her hungrily from across the small patch of sunlight which divided the alley. He was waiting. Very patiently, it seemed.

The Slayer frowned and slowly got to her feet. Her head felt like a blimp and it was throwing off her balance. Her body hadn't been prepared for the Stuff she had ingested last night. And it wasn't a forgiving body.

With a frown of discomfort, Niki prepared herself to fight the creature in the shadow across the alley from her. She blinked and drew in a breath, stretching her stiff muscles.

The vampire also stood, his face growing bumpy and vampiric. He opened his mouth and grinned, showing off his array of pointed teeth. He motioned tauntingly for her to come to him as he tracked her along the alley, keeping the patch of sunlight between them.

Niki looked absently around for a piece of wood or some sort of weapon. Finding nothing, she stumbled towards the vamp on wobbly legs, steeling herself to take a beating. Indeed, his hand struck her across the face as soon as she entered the realm of shadow again. Niki blinked, holding her cheek.

"Uh," she shook her head a little. It did wonders to wake her up. "Thanks," she said groggily. Like lightening, she reached out and grabbed the vamp's collar, pulling him down to the ground, his head caught right in the sunlight.

The vamp screamed and closed his eyes struggling against her grip, trying to get out of the sun. Instinctively, Niki turned to see what he was looking at and accidentally looked into the sun herself. With a groan, she let go of the vamp to cover her eyes, stumbling back into the shadow.

"Oh, crap, that's painful." Her head now throbbing much worse than before, she massaged her eyes, trying to rid herself of the green afterglow. With a slow sigh and visions of percolating coffee, she looked to the pile of dust where the vampire had been. "Though, I suppose it could be worse."

Niki rode the bus back to Manhattan in silence, certain at least one third of those riding the bus were demons in disguise. She did what she did best when hung over and confronted with danger: she ignored it.

Getting off the bus near Park Avenue, she walked down the dull streets, the rain starting up again and soaking into her white T-shirt. Getting to her building, she saw boxes sitting by the curb. Oh yeah, she remembered: Eviction. She sat down on the curb between two of the larger boxes and laid her head in her hands.

Logan looked up from the mess of papers on the coffee table to the fern sitting on the end table. The papers were of the small claims variety and he knew he was damn lucky to get a case, but considering he had at one point been trying a murder case before a grand jury, he didn't feel too lucky.

And the fern he was now looking at was dead.

Brown and shriveled, the poor plant had not been watered in weeks. Probably the subject of another argument he and Rachel would have. Or worse yet, the subject of another episode of silence. But not right now: Rachel had gone to work. He had the house to himself.

Lifting the fern to the table top, Logan arranged the brown fronds more aesthetically, succeeding only in letting the papery leaves crumble in his fingers. Letting the dead plant matter fall between his fingers, Logan refused to let the state of the plant get him down. It was just a plant. He narrowed his gaze and focused on it. Looking hard into the essence of the fern before him, he could sense that some part of it was still struggling for life.

Holding his hands over it, as if he were a priest who was blessing it, Logan closed his eyes and visualized the plant springing to life, becoming green and stretching out with strong, healthy leaves again. He could feel the hum of the electricity of his power, he felt his fingers trembling as the plant heard his commands.

Opening his eyes, his heart sank. As electricity danced between his fingers, the dry leaves and twigs began to smoke and smolder. Within seconds, the little fern was a pile of glowing cinders.

Logan waved the smoke away from him, standing and walking towards the smoke detector. It would go off any second now, he knew. But it didn't. Not a chirp. With a frown, Logan reached up and pressed the test button at its center. Nothing. Like the fern, the smoke detector had likely been ignored for weeks as well. Also probably his fault.

Tromping up the stairs, grateful for the break from the case, Logan went on a quest for a nine volt. He walked dejectedly into his shared bedroom and began opening drawers. There must be an unopened nine volt battery around here—

Logan search stopped as a glint of silver caught his eye at the back of one of the little used drawers. Reaching back, he took the silver chain and lifted the IXI bracelet from the drawer, its silver surface catching the sun as it peeked out from between the clouds.

Logan swallowed. He carefully set the thing on the dresser top and reached again into the back of the drawer. This time, his hand came out with an envelope. Open at one end, Logan didn't even look at the address before sliding the letter out.

Dear Mrs. Kilpatrick,

We sincerely regret to inform you of an unfortunate business we have come upon while working with your husband, Logan Kilpatrick. Certain incontrovertible evidence has come to our attention which leads us to believe that Mr. Kilpatrick is not being faithful to your marriage. We understand it is not our place to interfere with your affairs in any way, but we thought it best that you at least be aware of what your husband does while working in our offices. As a responsible employer, this firm wants to promote a healthy employment environment and while it is not within out power to terminate Mr. Kilpatrick for his indiscretions, we find it morally objectionable to withhold this information from you. If you wish to meet with us at Wolfram and Hart to discuss this, we would keep it in the strictest confidence.

Sincerely and with regrets,

Tawnie Fischer,

Liaison to the Senior Partners of Wolfram and Hart, New York Branch.

As he read the letter, his dejected thoughts soon hardened into ones of anger. Fischer had hit him after all. She was dead and she was still hurting his family. He had been concerned with a literal attack, magic or demons, all this time sacrificing his family to protect them... and that was what Fischer had counted on all along.

Niki slowly began to pick through the boxed up remains of her life. There wasn't as much as she had imagined. The furniture would probably be sold to pay the rent she owed. Was that even legal? Niki wasn't interested in saving her furniture anyway. There was only one thing she wanted.

Tearing open a medium sized box, she shoved the other clothes aside and took hold of the tortured black leather. She pulled it from the box and slid it on. As much punishment as the jacket had taken from her —taken for her— it only ever felt more like home.

As she glanced with disinterest back into the box, she noticed something else. The whiteboard from the fridge sat at the bottom of the box, a message scrawled in someone else's handwriting. Niki reached down with a frown and lifted it out, the words beginning to run in the light rain.

Go see Crowley, the message said. Niki recognized the handwriting as Whistler's. But who was Crowley? And why should she go see him?

As Niki wondered this, she turned back to the street and caught the spray from the tires of a passing bus. She swore and jumped back, still getting soaked.

You May Have Been Deceived! the billboard on the side of the bus informed her. Niki was frozen to the spot as the words sped past her. If you think you've been the victim of fraud, our lawyers can help!

The man with the deep scar down his cheek slowly moved from customs to the crowd of the JFK terminal. Ten thousand pounds, he'd been promised. Not the most reputable organization that had promised it, granted, but he wasn't the most trustworthy of agents either. In fact, he wasn't an agent at all. He was a bounty hunter. Ten thousand pounds for the head of the Slayer. The Council certainly was serious.

He rolled his massive shoulders back and grinned as his stiff muscles awoke. Naturally, he had been permitted to bring nothing from England which might betray his motive or identity. So... the first order of the day was to find a weapon. Then, to find the one person that weapon would kill.

Second Chances - Act 2

Logan walked through the halls of Dodd Junior Highschool, heading for the guidance office. The letter he had found in the drawer seemed to be burning a hole in his jacket's pocket. Michael had been Fischer's liaison — specifically to Logan. He must have known. God, he had probably known when Rachel had had him over for supper. Maybe he had delivered the letter. Maybe he had written the letter after Fischer had been 'let go.'

Logan's hands were fists as he stepped into the guidance office and moved to the small cubicle with the tag 'Grief Counselor.' Michael was sitting, patiently filling out paperwork. Logan stood before his desk for nearly a minute before the man in the white silk shirt and blue silk tie looked up.

"Logan," he said pleasantly. "What can I do for you?"

Without thinking, Logan drew the letter from his pocket and let it fall to the desk. "Did you know about this?" he asked curtly. He waited with crossed arms for the man to read the letter, the counselor's expression turning into one of genuine, or very practiced puzzlement.

"I've never seen this before in my life," he said with a frown, handing the letter back. "Is it too presumptuous of me to ask if it's true?"

Logan stuffed the letter back into his pocket. "No, it's not true." He held Michael's blank stare for several seconds. "I did have an affair with someone," Logan admitted at last, "but it was years ago, and certainly not at work."

Michael continued to be silent, staring calmly at Logan's agitated state.

Logan held his position for several seconds before Michael's calm gaze broke him. "Alright, fine, yes, I started up the affair again – recently. She was the murder case I would have won if Fischer hadn't extorted me. I didn't get a conviction, so Fischer wrote this letter —" Logan pulled the letter out again, "—as punishment. I want to know if you're on her side."

Michael shrugged. "She's dead. She doesn't have a side anymore."

Logan sighed and frowned, sitting down at the desk, across from Michael. "Who are you?" he asked, tired of guessing and worrying about this man who had saved Niki's life, then brought him the severed head of his boss.

The other man shrugged very subtly. "I'm Michael."

"But Michael who? What are you? A demon?" Logan wasn't anything but curious now, and perhaps a little irritated that he couldn't figure it out himself.

"If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone else?" The dark face drew closer, his eyes narrowing in perfect seriousness. Logan nodded very slightly. "I'm an angel."

Logan raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair. He frowned a little, then laughed out loud. "Yeah, right." He chuckled a little more. "An angel... like, Gabriel or..."

"Michael?" the man offered gently. The smile melted off Logan's face. Michael lowered his gaze for a moment. He took a deep breath. "You believe in demons — real, physical ones, with teeth and claws which you summon and vanquish. You believe in them because you've seen them, fought them. You don't need faith for things you've seen with your own two eyes, fought with your own two hands. What's so ridiculous about beings like that working for the other side?"

Logan's heart was pounding now. He had, actually, believed Michael for a moment, then his cynicism had taken over and he came to the much more likely conclusion that Michael was actually some kind of demon posing as a good guy. Perhaps a more clever version of Whistler.

"You don't believe me," Michael noted. "That's fine. Contrary to popular belief," he smiled at the word, "you don't need to believe in us for us to exist. We're not like fairies."

Logan nodded, keeping up the pretense of being convinced. "You don't have wings. Don't angels have wings?"

"How many angels have you heard of getting sucked up in jet engines?" Michael cocked his head. "They're metaphorical wings..." With the sound of great rustling feathers and the pounding of air, a great wind washed over Logan, making him blink rapidly. A paper off Michael's desk floated down to the floor. He smiled. "If I want them to be."

Logan took a breath and swallowed. "So... you're really an angel."

The man shrugged. "Technically, I'm an archangel, but I rarely brag."

"The biblical... Real... Archangel Michael, from... heaven, I'm guessing?" Logan was now very unsure about everything. More than anything he felt a little queasy. He remembered he hadn't felt this bad when he had been confronted with his first, real demon. Somehow evil hadn't been as hard to accept.

"Not biblical," Michael admitted. "I haven't had a chance to read past Exodus, as a matter of fact. I'm an incarnation of Michael. And I'm not from heaven, I'm from Baltimore."

Logan frowned, pausing to scratch his eyebrow with his pinky. "So... you're not the Michael. You're... a Michael."

Michael shrugged. "No difference. A higher Power sends me to do some actual, physical things that need to be done. I don't ask questions, I don't get explanations. I get orders. Commandments, you might say."

"A higher Power... you mean, like, God?" Logan squinted, trying to see through whatever this was, scam or truth. He just couldn't tell any more.

"No, his name was Cliff." Michael leaned back and sighed, remembering his calling. "That was quite a day."

Logan blinked, shaking his head and shoving all the questions aside to only ask the important ones. "So... what? You're here to see that corrupt law firm liaisons don't get irritated by lowly lawyers like me?"

Michael shook his head. "I'm not omnipotent. My assignment was Fischer. She needed a liaison to you... I got the job. Not rocket science."

"Why was your assignment Fischer?" Logan frowned. "Wolfram and Hart doesn't seem like an appropriate place for an angel to find work."

Michael allowed himself a little smile. "Are you questioning the will of Cliff?" He dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "If you haven't noticed, I hang around death quite a bit. The ICU, grief counselor, I did a stint as a fireman, I tried to get on board with the paramedics, but like I said, I'm not omnipotent. They turned me down." He nodded. "And, yeah, liaison to your late boss. In case you thought it was a secret: lots of people die at Wolfram and Hart."

"So, you're like, the Angel of Death?" Logan was starting to get worried now. Michael had been eating with his family: his wife, his daughter.

Michael shook his head. "No. I'm not the grim reaper or anything. It's not like if I touch you, you die or anything..."

"But you cured Niki," Logan pointed out, crossing his arms and shifting in his seat. "What was that about?"

"It wasn't her time," Michael said cryptically. "I said I'm not omnipotent, I didn't say I was impotent." He took a breath, seeing the other man's skeptical expression. "You're worried because someone powerful who hangs around death has been hanging around your family. I'm telling you I'm not that kind of angel. I was sent to you. But I was sent to you as a gift."

This threw Logan completely for a loop. "Cliff is sending me presents now? I don't even know him!"

Michael nodded. "Then just accept the gift gracefully."

Logan sighed heavily, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. The headache from that morning was back. "I need some time to digest this," he said at last. "You're not going anywhere, are you?"

Michael shrugged. "In the afternoons I have a shift at the ICU, but I can leave you the number..."

Logan shook his head. "No, that's okay. I have a feeling I'll find you if I need you."

Michael grinned. "Now you're getting it." He stood and so did Logan. They shook hands and Logan turned to go. "Oh, and Logan," the lawyer turned and the angel smiled at him, "you'd look good in white."

Logan smiled uncertainly and left the guidance office. As he walked back down the halls of the junior highschool, he passed the main office. On an impulse, he turned on his heel and entered the reception area. Standing at the desk, he caught the attention of the secretary there.

"Hi," he said with a smile. "Could you tell me what classroom Hanna Kilpatrick is in? I'm her father and I just want to drop in and say hello."

The secretary nodded and clacked over the keys of her keyboard. The glowing green list of names on her computer screen scrolled down until one name was highlighted. The secretary turned to him with an unfriendly expression.

"This says she's absent this afternoon," the secretary said evenly. "She apparently had a note signed by you and left this morning."

Logan stood with his feet frozen to the floor. His mouth was dry. It took a very long moment for the information to finally settle in, it was so impossible. What?

Whoever Crowley was, he was listed and this was his address. Niki rapped on the door and stood casually before the peephole where no doubt this Crowley person was watching her. There was a long, deliberate silence on the other side of the door before the sound of locks could be heard.

Finally, the door opened and a middle aged man stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. "Can I help you?" he asked, betraying his British accent and nearly concealing the worry in his voice.

Niki frowned. She had assumed Crowley would be waiting for her... or at least recognize her. Maybe Whistler had finally lost it. Assuming he ever had it.

"Uh... I was told to come see you..." Niki craned her neck to see past the man. "My name is Niki."

Crowley sighed. Finally, he stood aside. "Yes... Yes, I know who you are." Niki walked past him into the large apartment. She looked around in awe. Whoever this Crowley was, he certainly liked his weapons. The walls were adorned with medieval tools of killing and idols of various deities.

"How do you know me?" Niki asked absently, stopping by the back wall to examine a very interesting looking saber.

The man sounded very reluctant to answer her. "I was once involved with the Council of Watchers..."

Without an instant's hesitation, Niki pulled the sword from the wall and held it to the older man's throat. He slowly raised his hands into the air and began to back away from her, but she advanced just as readily.

"I haven't been involved with them for some time," he said tiredly, looking as though he would very much like to put his hands down. "You see, Niki, I was once the Watcher to another Slayer..." She lowered the sword just enough for the older man to drop his hands and sink into the deep cushions of a large sofa. "Another slayer named Nikki. When she died, I..." He averted his gaze and shook his head. "I couldn't be a part of that anymore."

"I had my Watcher killed," Niki said simply, lowering the sword until its point rested on the floor.

Crowley glanced up. "Do you know why you were sent to me?"

Niki drew in a dejected breath. "Probably because things... kinda suck right now. Whistler's all about me getting guidance."

Crowley nodded gravely. "Then I know just what to do. Stay here, I'll be right back." He stood and hurried out of the room. As he did so, Niki quickly raised the sword, readying herself should he reenter with a crossbow or bigger sword. He wouldn't be so foolish... Then again, she didn't know him at all.

A few minutes later, the Brit returned with a large leather bag, setting it down with a clunk on the low table by the sofa. Niki watched as he reached into it and retrieved a large book. He flipped past some things and read down the page until he found what he was looking for. "Here it is." He glanced up and narrowed his gaze, as if sizing the Slayer up. "But it won't be easy."

Logan slowed his little brown car outside Matt's house, letting the engine idle. He looked long and hard at the front of the house, weighing whether or not to attempt it. Then he saw movement within.

With careful, precise and controlled movements, he turned off the ignition, opened his door and walked to the big bay window at the front of the house. What was moving inside was clear now.

As Logan watched what transpired within, his eyes began to glow and the grass beneath his feet turned to ice.

Niki sat in a circle of sand on the hardwood of Crowley's apartment living room. Crowley was chanting something from the book and Niki was feeling very sleepy all of a sudden. The lights seemed uncertain whether they were supposed to be on or off and they faded in and out of the Slayer's awareness.

Each time her eyelids dropped, the usual darkness was replaced with a hot biting wind and dryness. Bright glare off of sand and a deep pounding of tribal drums. She could barely even sit up straight any more, at the center of the circle.

Then her eyes opened fully for an instant. Only an instant. Standing mere feet away, as real as the hardwood beneath her was the very last person she ever expected to see again.

Richard J. Addison was frowning, as he often did, and his arms were crossed. He looked from the stunned Slayer, assuming she couldn't see him, to the man chanting behind her. "Are you sure this will work?" he demanded authoritatively.

Niki's hand shot out of the circle as her eyes drooped one last time. She grabbed the front of his pant leg and pulled. The surprised Brit toppled forward into the circle with her as the hardwood dissolved to hot sand and the apartment around them faded to azure sky.

Niki stood next to her former Watcher in an ancient African desert, looking around, unsure about anything anymore. Then the demon attacked.

Second Chances - Act 3

Niki stared out at the bleak desert. Not the picturesque dunes and oases, but dusty ground and massive stone outcrops as far as the eye could see. The sun was beating down from a stunning blue sky and a wash of heat made Niki for once want to remove her thick leather jacket.

"Oh... bloody hell." Addison slowly backed away from the behemoth which advanced on them. Niki turned at his words but her gaze landed on the Watcher, not on the creature which had him in its sights.

"You!" She took him by the shoulder and decked him, sending him sprawling back to land on his backside in the sand. "What the fuck are you doing here!? I had you killed!" She paused, her anger stepping down a notch. "You're not, like, a figment of my imagination or something, are you?"

Addison was shaking his head rapidly, his gaze locked on the thing which was advancing on the Slayer from behind. He reached out and pointed at it, making the Slayer scowl.

"What?" she said, annoyed, turning around. "Whoa... Uh..." She ducked as the massive thing tried to grab her in a bear hug. Crouched low, she spun around behind it and stood, kicking the back of its leg. It didn't seem to notice.

It did notice Addison, however. With a blood-curdling, primal roar, it opened its enormous maw and charged. Addison scrambled to his feet and prepared for the attack, ducking the first swing of the arm but catching another blow square in the chest. His breath was forced from him and he flew backward several yards.

Niki sped towards the action, leaping onto the ancient demon's back. As soon as she touched it with her bare hands, she grew dizzy, her head filled with the pounding of drums and the smell of death and rot. The rancid taste of the demon permeated her being. With a grunt, it elbowed her in the stomach and threw her off.

Turning now to her, it opened its massive mouth again, large enough to swallow a person's head whole. Curved teeth seemed to spring out of the flesh of the inside of its mouth, growing and shrinking, twisting and rattling. Niki felt sick.

With a terrifying animal roar it charged her, its arms spread wide to embrace her. The dust kicked up from its hind legs drifted in a hot and dry cloud which stung the Slayer's eyes. The pounding of the creature's paws seemed to reverberate through the very Earth, echoing from every rock surface, channeled through every rock outcrop. The sky itself seemed to tremble.

Unable to think what else to do, Niki shrugged off her leather jacket and held it by the arms behind her back. In a heartbeat the behemoth emerged from the cloud of dust it had created and was on her.

Jumping as high into the air as she could, Niki did a flip in midair and landed again on its back, the jacket she held now covering its face and pulling back its head. The Slayer held the arms of her jacket like the reins of a horse, pulling as hard as she could while forcing her knees into the creature's back.

With a roar the thing went over backwards, taken off balance and blind. It landed hard an instant after Niki had jumped clear. With a vicious kick, Niki struck the demon's head still hidden beneath the leather of her jacket. She kicked it again and again as the massive thing tried to get up again. Finally she heard the snap of a powerful spine and the shape beneath the leather twisted at an odd angle. The arms and legs stopped moving.

Breathing hard and unable to rid her mouth of the rancid taste she had acquired upon contact with the foul thing, Niki gave the creature one final kick for good measure before turning back to where Addison now stood.

"You brought me out here to kill me?" she asked icily, walking towards him in a menacing fashion.

Addison held his hands up defensively. "It's not what you think, it wasn't supposed to happen like this."

Niki continued moving forward as Addison began to move backwards. "No? I wasn't supposed to drag you along with me? I wasn't supposed to kill the demon?"

"You weren't supposed to live this long," the old Watcher blurted continuing to back up as he words halted Niki in her tracks.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" she asked coldly. "You thought you could kill me in prison? I thought you just didn't want a conviction." She shrugged. "Hello: not convicted."

"It has nothing to do with me," Addison said quickly, feeling the coolness of shadow as he backed into a wide cleft in the cliff behind him. "The Council's sources... a coven of witches in England... they predicted your death: they predicted the calling of another Slayer."

Niki glared. "Well, excuse me for breathing." She began to advance on him again, walking more quickly now. "And pardon me if I don't believe a single word that comes out of your fucking mouth. I think since you tried to kill me we may have developed some trust issues."

Addison found his back up against the rock wall. He swallowed as Niki approached. "And you tried to have me killed. I believe we're even." The Slayer said nothing. "If you believe nothing else, know that I fought for you. When I went to England and they told me what the coven had foreseen, I fought for you. Eventually... I was overruled."

"Then... what? You just volunteered to kill me yourself?" She scoffed. "I don't think so."

Addison dropped his gaze to the barren and dusty ground. "I couldn't bear to think of anyone else doing it. Your death is not something I could just stand by and let happen."

Niki glared hard into the old man's face. The man who had been like a father in all the ways that didn't matter. The man, she now knew, who had killed her real father and mother. This was not forgivable.

"The first thing you ever said to me was a lie," she said in a cold whisper, her face mere inches from his. "The first thing you ever did to me was betray me. You killed my parents because they didn't want their daughter in the middle of the battle between good and evil." With her lips almost close enough to touch his, she looked across the short distance between them, looking for his soul. "You're the greatest evil I have ever known."

Without another word, she turned from him and walked off into the desert.

Logan's eyes glowed yellow and sweat beaded off his forehead. His fists felt like they were on fire as they trembled at his sides. His toes were numb from cold and his boots were like blocks of ice. The patch of lawn he stood on was white with frost, even in the warm afternoon sunshine.

Through the bay window, he could see Matt and Hanna in the living room, seated in a circle drawn in red on the white carpet. Matt was saying something and using his finger to paint red marks on Hanna's face. As Logan watched, he saw the teen dip his hand back into a bowl of blood and drawn similar marks on his own face. He blinked as he got some in his eye and Logan saw Hanna laugh.

With an ear-splitting clap of thunder, Logan brought his hands together and in a flash of light he was gone. He reappeared in the living room, glaring down at the two surprised and terrified teenagers. He said nothing, but they jumped to their feet, realizing how they looked.

Matt looked quickly from his girlfriend to her father, reaching out a hand to take hers. With a grunt, an invisible force sent him flying back against the far wall, pinning him with his feet above the floor. After a moment, he was dropped to the carpet.

"Dad, stop it!" Hanna shouted, grabbing Logan's arm as he reached out to throw Matt again. "Leave him alone!"

Logan turned on her, his eyes burning like coals. "What's that all over your face? Blood?" he yelled. He wrenched his arm from her grasp and she collapsed to the carpet with tears in her eyes. "What were you going to do?" Logan demanded, lifting Matt into the air with an invisible hand. "Sacrifice her to some demon?"

"We... were just having some fun," the boy gasped, finding it difficult to breathe. "I... wouldn't..."

"Shut up," Logan ordered, throwing the teen back into the wall again, this time putting a dent in the drywall. Matt collapsed to the carpet, breathing heavily. With a wicked glare, he looked up at the angry conjurer standing in his living room.

"Halfrek," the boy called, a hint of vengeance in his voice and a vindictive grin appearing on his face.

Logan's glowing eyes shifted from the injured teenager to a swirl of smoke. A woman with a self satisfied smile appeared, looking immediately to Matt who was getting to his feet and brushing himself off.

"Aw, lemon drops, are you okay?" She stepped towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Hanna got to her feet with a betrayed look on her face. "Matt... Who is this... person?"

Matt turned from Hallie to speak to Logan. His confident grin surfaced again. "This is my mother," he challenged. "A vengeance demon." Hanna gasped and took a step behind her father. Matt smirked as he stood tall before Logan. "And she's going to kick your ass."

Niki walked for hours, the sun dropping lower and lower behind her. She knew Addison was following her, but couldn't bring herself to turn around. She didn't know where she was heading, but something in her mind urged her on.

Soon the sun was gone and Niki was walking towards a blazing curtain of stars. The beat of ancient drums had started so low she couldn't be sure she was really hearing it, but now it was clear and it was driving her on. It slowly began to quicken, pounding through her veins as if it were overriding her own heartbeat. Her pace quickened towards the dark horizon and soon she was running as fast as she could, racing with the beat of the drums, thinking of nothing else.

Then, like a nightmare, something vast and black rose up before her. She skidded to a halt before the cliff wall, reaching out with a tentative hand to touch its cool surface. It certainly was real. She blinked. The drums had stopped.

You have come.

Niki spun around and clenched her fists. Three silhouettes stood against the starry backdrop of the primeval sky. Each was cloaked and each carried a staff.

We have waited.

Their words were not English, but Niki understood them nonetheless. The language sounded old and well used. There was a cold wind which swept up the side of the cliff, making Niki shiver. She regretted leaving her jacket with the demon.

"Who are you?" she asked, hugging her arms tight across her stomach. "How can I understand you?"

You have brought another with you, one of the silhouetted figures noted as Addison's heavy breathing and footsteps could be heard.

"Yeah..." Niki frowned as Addison approached, out of breath from trying to keep up with the Slayer. "He was my Watcher."

We know who he is.

Niki sighed, impatiently. "Now, if I only knew who you were, then we could all be friends."

"I'm... I'm sorry," Addison panted, doubling over to catch his breath again. He addressed the three men clad in shadow. "I didn't have a choice: she pulled me in."

It is as we intended, the first man said calmly. We have been here since the beginning. We have brought you both here because you destiny is in jeopardy.

Niki turned from the shadow men to the Watcher. "Who the hell are these guys?" she demanded, crossing her arms tighter. Addison stood up straighter and took a deep breath.

"They are the progenitors, original Watchers," he began, looking from one shadow man to the other.

Niki scoffed. "So they're going to try to kill me too?" She uncrossed her arms and raised her fists as if boxing. "Come on, I can take all three of you."

You have stood in judgment before the ones who watch you.

Niki lowered her fists, taking a hesitant step back towards the cliff face. As one, the shadow men lifted their staffs and beat them on the ground, the sound of ancient drums issuing from the rock. They advanced on Niki, the drumming continuing.

It is not for those men to judge you, the first of the shadow men stated, stepped closer than the others.

That task is left to us.

Second Chances - Act 4

Niki looked around. They weren't outside anymore. Niki was sitting on the stone floor of a dimly lit cave. Addison was standing in the shadows and the three men in robes were holding their staffs in the air and chanting in low voices.

As Niki stood, they brought their staffs down to the ground with a resounding boom. "What the hell is this?" As she spoke, shapes began to form on the cave walls. The shapes grew and shrank, glowing white. "Addison, what's going on?"

"It's Tamasheq," he said quietly, watching the ancient words form and disappear. "The language of the Tuareg," he indicated the three robed men. A large symbol, two circles with a horizontal bar dividing them, passed over Addison's head, illuminating him with its glow.

"And it's glowing and... moving on the walls because why?" Niki watched warily as the words began to move around and over every surface of the walls, the uneven ceiling and the floor. Looking down, she backed up several paces when one of the letters traveling across the floor began to work its way up her leg.

"It's the evidence," Addison said, letting a small glowing 't' slide up his chest and over his shoulder. "It's the story of your life: You are being judged."

Niki hopped away from an odd 'Y' shaped letter as it sped past her. The letters were moving faster now, turning on themselves and intersecting. "But I've already been judged," the Slayer protested. "I got a mistrial, remember?" Her eyes found a figure on the wall which she was sure didn't belong. It was clearly a five. "Besides, I seem to have left my lawyer back in reality."

"No one back in reality is qualified to judge you," her old Watcher's voice was certain and serene. "The Council wasn't qualified. Justice for the Chosen goes beyond manmade rules or morals."

Niki couldn't keep her eyes off the five on the wall. "That's nice to know," she said distantly. "I'll use that next time I get a parking ticket." As she stared at it, the five broke apart and the glowing bits reassembled into rows and columns of numbers amid the Tamasheq letters. A chill went down Niki's spine.

"You are being judged by those who have created you," the lead shadow man announced, lifting his staff and drumming it once against the stone floor. The writing on the walls immediately ceased moving.

"We will examine your legacy and determine your merit." The second shadow man touched his staff to the floor with a boom and most of the glowing letters disappeared. The room was now quite dark.

"Hey, cool. Clap-on, clap-off." Niki looked around at the remaining letters. Her little smile fell when she realized the remaining words were in English. She hadn't noticed them among the geometric shapes of Tamasheq. "What the hell is..."

The words were names, some of which she recognized, some she didn't. Derek Stills. Megan Brandon. William Mason. Shannon Forster. Samuel Tythe. Richard Forster. Niki walked slowly through the cave, reading the names in her head. Megan Brandon she knew... well... she knew of. Were these supposed to be names of people she'd killed? Eric Quinlan. Veronica Hall. Tawnie Fischer. Hugh Williamson.

"I didn't kill Eric Quinlan," she turned on the shadow men, her voice defensive. She realized, with the number of other names on the walls it was really quite irrelevant. "A demon killed him."

The shadow men were silent and she finally turned and continued reading. In a heartbeat she turned back defiantly. "I've never heard of most of these people! Who's Hugh Williamson?"

The three men in robes turned to the far wall and rows and columns of glowing blue numbers appeared. The smell of paint fumes and car exhaust filled Niki's nostrils.

Blue, blue, they're all blue... the prophet's voice echoed throughout the cave.

Oh, him. The Slayer frowned. She hadn't killed him... not exactly. With a sigh, Niki turned back to the names, reading them through, mouthing the names silently.

Rachel Kilpatrick. Hanna Kilpatrick.

This time Niki spun around with an angry shout. "What the fuck are you playing at?" she demanded, storming to the leader of the three men and grabbing him by the robe. "What do they have to do with this?"

"They are written on your life, it is as you see it." The robed man allowed Niki to clutch the cloth, lifting his staff and touching the ground with a boom. Instantly the lights went out.

Halfrek brushed a strand of curly hair from her cheek. "Everyone in the Order has heard about you," she strode towards Logan, looking him up and down. "Do you ruin a lot of shoes like that?"

Logan looked down and noticed his frosted boots. "You're Halfrek," he said, more as a statement of fact than a question. "The vengeance demon." She nodded cheerily.

"Yup– though we prefer the term Justice Demon, and I'm surprise you haven't heard of us. We've been so busy in this little corner of creation recently that I've just stuck around," she turned back to Matt, "taking care of this little guy."

Hanna looked with confusion and disbelief from Halfrek to Matt. "You were raised by a demon? You never told me..."

Logan slowly backed away from Hallie, leading Hanna farther from the danger. "I told you he was dangerous. I didn't want you to get hurt."

Hanna looked back to Matt and his pleased grin. Her look pleaded with him to explain this all away — explain that it wasn't what it looked like. "But... but she wouldn't hurt anyone, would she Matt?"

Matt sneered, his complete attention locked on Logan who was backing towards the kitchen, concealing Hanna with his body. "Oh, she'll hurt. She can do things to men I can't spell."

Hanna was breathing fast. Bravely, she stepped between Logan and the advancing Halfrek. "Tell her to back off," the girl said angrily, her defiant eyes on her boyfriend.

Matt was silent, his grin faltering. Before he could say anything, Logan pulled Hanna out of the way and blasted Halfrek in the chest with a ball of energy. The demon went flying across the room and landed near the dent in the drywall Matt had made.

Matt rushed to her side to help her up, but she shrugged off his help, standing and charging with a shriek. As she ran, her human face melted to the hideous likeness of a true demon. Logan felt the electricity filling him. Bring it on.

Niki blinked in the darkness and a low chanting seemed to rise and fall through her senses. The deep, tribal drum beat rose and fell with it. Slowly, her eyes became accustomed to the diminished light and she sat up from where she had been laying.

"You have been judged," one of the men's voices declared. The pounding of the drum stopped and Niki felt arms helping her to her feet. Blinking, she saw it was Addison and he was looking neither afraid of her, nor completely at ease.

"They have examined your legacy – your life as the Slayer... they're going to give you a choice." The old Brit brushed the dust from Niki's dirty white shirt. He took in a breath as if he wasn't too pleased with the choice at hand.

Niki looked from him to the darkness. "What's the choice?"

"You have disturbed much." The voice of the shadow men came from pure darkness now. "You have killed many whose lives it was not your destiny to end. But since the end which is near is unavoidable, we will let these things pass if you wish. You may return unchanged.

The Slayer shrugged, pulled away from Addison and brushed the rest of the dust off herself. "Or?" She demanded, stepping into the darkness but finding nothing. "I didn't come here so that nothing could change. What's my other option?"

There was silence from the shadow for a long moment. The darkness was suddenly split by the light from three glowing Tamasheq letters. Niki couldn't read them, but she guessed they were her other option.

"If it is your wish, we have the power to remove that which you were given." The letters on the wall ahead burned brighter.

"What does that mean?" Niki turned to Addison. "What did they give me?"

The old Watcher sighed heavily. This was the part he wasn't satisfied with. "These men weren't only the first Watchers; they created the first Slayer. They gave her the heart of the demon which made her strong enough to fight evil. The same power which was given to you."

Niki's eyes widened. "You mean... they can unchoose me? They can do that?"

"We offer this only as a measure to prevent disaster. If we perform–" the word they used, Niki didn't recognize, but the letters on the wall glowed brighter, "–then you will no longer be the Chosen One. Another will be chosen."

The Slayer slowly turned from the glowing word to her old Watcher, as if she still relied on him for advice. As if she had ever relied on him for advice. "I'd go back to being just a regular girl. No freak stuff, no demon magnet stuff... the Council would leave me alone?"

Addison very slowly nodded his head. "I fear we have been mistaken all along. It was not our duty to terminate the Slayer: it was this choice that was foreseen by the coven."

"Why would you give me this choice?" Niki asked, turning back and addressing the glowing word. "Is there something that I'm supposed to do... something the Slayer is supposed to do that you're afraid I'll screw up?"

"We will remove your power," the shadow man said decisively. The pounding of the ancient drums started up again, louder than before and the word on the wall seemed to hiss with its increased brightness.

"No, wait," Addison stepped forward and held out a hand to block whatever might be coming. "Give her a chance to decide." He turned quickly back to Niki who was tensing, readying herself for a fight. "I know you have no reason to trust me... I haven't given you any. It's not as though I don't know I've been an ass, but if all I've accomplished as a Watcher is to make you wish you had never been chosen, then I've failed more than you have."

Glancing quickly behind him at the glowing word, he turned back and touched her elbow as she lowered her fists. "Don't underestimate the good you can do, even at your worst. Don't let your hatred for me make this decision for you. Consider all the good you've done and the loss to this world if you were to abandon it. There are those, always, who have faith in you, even if you can't have faith in yourself."

"Niki..." he took her by the shoulders with a gentle grip. "Knicks, I fought for you before the Council — not just because I wanted to save your life, but because I know you're not a failure." He shook her gently as the pounding of the drums rose and nearly drowned his words. "You have a destiny and it's not to toil meaninglessly, drifting from addiction to addiction. You are better, and you deserve another chance."

The Watcher quickly turned back to the glowing word as three silhouetted figures stepped out of the shadow in front of it, their staffs pounding the ground.

"Let her choose," Addison said, his voice hard and authoritative. It was not a request. The three shadow men raised their staffs and brought them to the Earth one last time with a resounding boom.

"Very well. What is her choice?"

Halfrek hit Logan hard in the gut then backhanded him and sent him staggering backwards to the wall. Touching a hand to his bleeding mouth, he pulled his other hand back and felt the crackle of electricity.

Hanna dashed past them to where Matt was standing, grinning at each blow his foster mother made. She grabbed him by the arm and glared. His grin wavered.

"Tell them to stop it," she ordered, her hands on her hips. "Tell her to leave."

Matt shrugged. "Your dad started it. Hallie's just teaching him not to threaten me."

"I don't care," Hanna answered angrily. "Tell her to leave. Do it or I won't come around anymore."

This got Matt's attention and he seemed to consider it, looking down at the carpet. "You don't want to hang out anymore?"

"I don't want my dad to get hurt," she replied, her eyes moving back to the fight in progress, bolts of energy answering forceful punches. The teenagers ducked as a lamp flew past them.

"Tell your dad to stop and I'll tell Hallie to back off..." They were thrown to the floor as the bay window exploded inward, showering them with bits of glass. Hallie groaned and pulled herself from the floor. Matt looked very concerned, but he hesitated to go to her when she was in demonic form. "You'd better hurry," the teen added to his girlfriend. "You don't want to see Halfrek when she gets angry."

"Dad," Hanna said without hesitation, "can we just go? I don't like this."

Logan brought his hands together, as if molding something. A bright blue flame sprang up between his palms. "I think this has gone beyond the two of you," the conjurer advised as Halfrek and Logan circled each other in the wrecked living room. "This woman is a demon. I kill demons."

Matt looked quickly from Logan to Hanna. He was getting worried. "You– you don't have to kill her. Hallie, back off, let him go. This has gone far enough."

Halfrek shook her head with a toothy grin, never taking her eyes from the conjurer as they circled each other. "Sorry, sweety pie, this one's been on D'Hoffryn's list for quite some time."

"Hear that?" Logan glanced sidelong at his daughter. "I don't have a choice."

"Dad, come on, just flash us out of here..." Hanna's voice was pleading, she looked from Matt to Halfrek. She could see Matt was really worried, he was breathing fast and he was shifting anxiously from one foot to another.

"Mr. Kilpatrick, please—" Matt took several steps forward, trying to get between the warring parents. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry... I- just... please don't hurt her."

Halfrek laughed as if that were the funniest joke she had ever heard. In an instant, the blue flame shot from Logan's hand and enveloped her. She screamed in pain as an invisible force threw her out the broken bay window. She landed on the grass, writhing as the flames seemed to consume her.

"Hallie!" the boy jumped out the window and tried to help his foster mother, but the flames were too hot. "I'm going to wish," Matt threatened. But his voice was hoarse and no more than a whisper.

Logan stepped over the edge of the window and looked down at the burning mass. He knew she was still alive, probably buying time or trying to lull him into a false sense of security. That would end, though.

"Time to end this," the conjurer said harshly, raising his hands for a killing strike. "I'm sorry, Matt, this is just the way things have to be."

Matt's face contorted to a look of hatred. "The way things have to be?" he demanded. "I wish you knew what it was like to lose everyone you ever loved! Then you can tell me how things have to be!"

Instantly the flames went out. In a rush of smoke, Halfrek was on her feet, a sinister smile on her demonic face. "Wish grant—"

With a massive explosion, Logan launched everything he had at the demon, striking her again and again, burning her flesh and scorching himself in the process. Matt was thrown backwards and the shockwaves from the sound kept him from getting up.

After a full minute of bombardment, all that was left of Halfrek was a smoking crater in the middle of the scorched lawn.

Breathing hard, sweat pouring down his face, Logan turned away from what looked like the site of a small bomb going off and headed for the front door. Hanna was waiting inside, tears in her eyes. She had a small cut on her forehead where some of the glass had cut her. She ran to him and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. He held her tight, ignoring the blistering pain in his hands. She was safe now. Everything was going to be okay.

Matt knelt by the small patch of blackened ground. His mouth hung open and he struggled for breath. As Logan and Hanna walked by, hand in hand, she answered his gaze with a glare. His eyes slowly fell. They came to rest on the amulet resting in the center of the crater. He picked it up and held it tight. A tear rolled down his cheek as the small brown car pulled away.

Crowley was standing well back from the circle of sand in his living room when, with a flash of white light, Niki and Addison reappeared. Crowley blinked in surprise. Addison looked... remarkably alive. He hadn't expected Niki to discover Addison, and after she had he certainly hadn't expected her old Watcher to survive the encounter. But nonetheless, there they both stood, dusty and drenched in sweat. Niki had her black leather jacket draped over one arm and was looking around quickly.

"You're back," Crowley said uncertainly, his tone loud enough to serve the purpose. "You're just in time."

Addison met Crowley's gaze and the old Watcher's eyes widened. With a shout he jumped clear of the circle and hurried away from Niki to stand by the front door. The Slayer frowned suspiciously and looked around.

From the back hall, a large, muscular man with a deep scar down his cheek strode into the living room. He carried a short sword in each hand and with his gaze glued solidly to Niki, his intent was clear.

Niki slowly looked from Crowley to Addison. The latter was shaking his head insistently. "No... It's not what you think—"

"I think he's come to kill me," Niki said, reaching for the saber on the wall. "I think that desert thing was a distraction so you could get him over here." Her sword held up defensively, Niki turned to look at her old Watcher. There was no surprise, or even anger on her face. Only the slight disappointment that comes from disillusionment. "I think I should have tried harder to kill you."

Addison shook his head. "No, it's not like that—"

Crowley cocked his head. "Did she choose..." Addison shot him a poisonous glare as the bounty hunter advanced on the girl.

Niki raised her sword. "Let's get this over with." With the clang of metal on metal, their swords met and in a superhuman burst of speed, Niki got around the massive man and drove her blade through his back and out his chest.

With a roar of pain, he fell to the floor. Niki carefully pulled the blade from the muscular corpse and leveled it at Crowley's throat. The Brit backed up until he was up against the wall. He sucked in a fearful breath as the bloodied steel just barely touched his throat.

"You," Niki said quietly, examining him patiently, "are one insidious bastard." He made a fearful noise and closed his eyes. Niki considered it. "But at least you're honest about it." In one smooth motion, she drew the sword away from his throat and launched it through the air.

With a gasp, Addison looked down at the blade projecting from his chest. It held him to the wall and kept him from breathing. All he could do was look up and watch. Niki slowly made her way across the living room, carefully stepping over the body of the bounty hunter, carefully avoiding stepping in the circle of sand.

When she finally got to him, her eyes were calm and her voice was soft. Addison struggled for breath – struggled for speech. His lungs were quickly filling with blood. He could taste it.

"Shhh," Niki put a finger to his lips. She drew close to him, as close as the sword in his chest would allow. "It's okay," she said softly. She slowly embraced him, his struggling, sputtering breath leaving a trail of blood down his chin. "It's okay," she repeated, even softer. "I forgive you."