Disclaimer: Since my name is not Joss Whedon, 'Buffy: The Vampire Slayer', 'Angel' and the characters associated with the show belong to someone who in't me. I also do not own the storyline, that is taken from gidgetgirl's 'The Lost Child Challenge' (details below) posted at the Chocolate Covered Strawberries Archive.

The Lost Child Challenge

When Faith was fourteen, she was raped by her mother's boyfriend. After that, she left home on her own, pregnant with the rapist's child. When she was found by the Council, her first Watcher took the baby, assuring Faith that it would be taken care of... the Watcher then was killed by Kakistos before she could give Faith more information. Now, years later, the child has come back into Faith's life.

Requirements:

Faith dealing with mixed feelings about the child: a mother's love and the memory of the rape.
The child having a Faith-esque attitude problem
The council having had some hand in the child's conception
The child having an amazing destiny
Faith wanting to save her daughter from her own mistakes

Chapter 5

Kent, England.

The next day.

She had been on tenterhooks all day, waiting for his arrival, so excited that she could barely concentrate on her training exercises, so determined to make a good impression that she had not even objected to the length of time that Mrs White had spent fussing over her hair and dress.

Even though he wasn't as tall as some of the people she knew, he seemed like a giant to her, a demigod.

"Uncle Quentin!" His car had barely stopped when she, abandoning all dignity, had dashed down the steps, running towards him.

Chuckling warmly, he scooped her up. "How's my little Ella?"

"Fine. I've been waiting for you all day."

He smiled at her. "I'm glad to hear it. And can Uncle Quentin get a kiss from his favourite girl?"

Putting her little arms around his neck, the not quite four year old pressed her lips against his cheek, hugging him tightly, grateful that she had him, that she would always have him.

Her nanny, Mrs Adams had left the week before, and her trainer a month before that.

Sooner or later, everyone would always leave her. . .everyone except Uncle Quentin.

He came to see her all the time, at least once a month, and he always sent her pretty presents and let her have whatever she wanted.

He was the only one she could count on, the only one it was safe to love.

"Eleanor?" Mr Faulkner touched his little charge's shoulder gently, trying to jolt her from her reminiscing. "Nell?" He said, using her nickname, as only a privileged few were permitted to.

She shook herself slightly, leaving behind the memories of the visit a year and a half ago, looking up at him with wide blue eyes.

"Maybe daydreaming isn't such a good idea when we're working with the crossbow." He chided mildly.

"I'm sorry." She bit her lip. "I was just thinking about. . ."

"Mr Travers?" He patted her shoulder sympathetically. "I know you miss them."

She nodded, scowling sullenly. "It's not fair. Why did he have to die? Why couldn't she die instead?"

"She? You mean your moth. . ."

"My not-a-mother." She cut him off firmly.

It was with some difficulty that Mr Faulkner refrained from rolling his eyes at the term the little girl had insisted on using since her toddler years.

"I think you're being very unfair, Nell." He was careful to keep his tone mild.

"I'm not!" She protested, stung.

"I'm fairly sure that it wouldn't physically kill you to give her a chance." He said dryly, half-forgetting her age and speaking to her as if she were another adult.

"She doesn't deserve one." Her jaw was set in a way that told him that she had no intention of budging from her position. "She didn't want me." /Only Uncle Quentin did. /

"It seems to me as though she wants to get to know you now." He pointed out. "I'm not saying you have to welcome her with open arms, but the least you can do is be polite when she comes over this afternoon – unless of course you want people to think that Mr Travers never taught you any manners." He added slyly, knowing her weakness.

"Fine!" She huffed, stomping her foot. "But I won't be nice."

That afternoon.

"I cannot believe that I ever worked with that man!" Giles berated himself as he paced back and forth across the reception room of Eleanor's palatial home, making the two Slayers sitting side by side on the couch slightly dizzy.

It seemed to Faith that Giles was even angrier about what they had learned of the part that Travers had played in Eleanor's conception than she was – and that was saying something.

"I worked for him while he was . . .Faith, I'm sorry."

"You're being an idiot." Faith told him, her tone kinder than her words.

"But . . ."

"It wasn't your signature on that check, was it?"

"No. . ."

"You didn't play any part in arranging it, did you?"

"Of course not!"

"And you weren't in the loop about it?"

"No, but. . ."

"But nothing!" Faith patted his shoulder gently. "It's not your fault."

"Thank you." He smiled gratefully, still feeling slightly guilty about ever being involved with an organization that could so coldly arrange the rape of a fourteen year old child and then steal the child born as a result of the assault.

"At least you'll be able to explain to Eleanor that you didn't abandon her." Buffy pointed out.

"Yes," Giles concurred. "Once she knows that Travers kidnapped her without your knowledge, it should make it easier for you to relate to her."

"No."

"I'm sure it will." Buffy tried to comfort the other girl. "Once you tell her. . ."

"I'm not going to."

"Why not?" The blonde Slayer was bewildered.

Faith smiled wistfully, remembering how fond she had been of Mayor Wilkins, despite knowing what kind of person he was, how close she had been to the man who had been the closest thing to a parent she had ever known.

Her own mother had been a disgrace to the name and news of her suicide, three months before her own daughter had been born, had come as more of a relief than a cause for grief.

Whether she liked or not, she had had no part in her daughter's life, and Eleanor hadn't even been able to form any kind of long-term attachments with the people hired to care for her.

From what she had learned, Quentin Travers had been the only person her child had ever been close to, the person she had thought she could count on.

She couldn't rob her of that.

"I can't."

"I don't understand." Giles looked agitated. "That man arranged for you to be raped, he stole your daughter and told you she was dead, then lied to her all of her life, telling her you had abandoned her. Why on Earth would you ever want to protect him?"

"I'm not." Faith said softly. "I'm protecting her."

Outside the room, a devastated little girl leaned against the wall, silent tears running down her cheeks, numb with shock, unable to register what she had just overheard.

They were lying, they had to be.

Uncle Quentin could never have done something like that.

He would never lie to her.

Would he?

TBC.

Author's Note: That's all for now, folks. Reviews, as always, are more than welcome. I'm also curious about who will guess what 'S' and 'H' stand for first.