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
Author's Note I: To gidgetgirl - Travers disliked Buffy, but a few of Nell's trainers were fans.
Author's Note II: To C'est Magnifique - Mr Travers the Bear will reappear soon. Your idea of pairing Faith and Xander is a good one.
Chapter 10
"I'd better make this clear right now, Giles. If whatever Nell has to do to close this portal is in any way dangerous, we're not going through with it." Faith warned, scowling at the scroll Giles was perusing. "The damn portals can stay wide open for all I care."
"Fair enough." He acknowledged, straightening his glasses. "It's fairly straightforward. The portal was sealed with blood, so to open it. . ."
"Forget it!"
"A drop is all that will be needed." Giles hasted to assure her. "That will be enough to establish Nell's control over the Gateways. What happens after that will depend entirely on one thing."
"What?"
"Whatever it is Nell wants to happen."
Boston, underground.
"For millennia we have waited for this day." The leader of the Y'espt'ac intoned, addressing his assembled clan, now sadly diminished. "When the Great Ones will enter this world and lay waste to the unworthy." He bowed his head reverently and was silent a moment before looking up again, a fierce expression on his face. "They tried to stop this day from coming. They sent their Champions to thwart us, but even then we were not defeated. Through the foresight of my predecessor, we were able to plan for this glorious day, when She will fling open the Gateways and release the Great Ones." He narrowed his eyes as he scanned the ranks of demons before him. "They will arrive soon, but take care. The One is but a child. She is not to be harmed. If She dies, it is over."
London.
Faith paused to knock before entering the bedroom that had been readied for Nell while they were staying at the Council's headquarters.
"Enter." The little girl looked up from unpacking her bag, smiling shyly when she saw who her visitor was. "Hello."
"Hi, honey." Faith gingerly sat down on the side of the four poster bed. The rooms had clearly been designed more for elegence than for comfort. "Do you need some help with that?"
"Please." Her dainty nose wrinkled in distaste when she saw what was lying on top of her dresses and, touching it as little as possible, she tossed it aside.
"Hey, now," Faith bent down to pick the teddy bear up. "Who's this? What did he do to piss you off?"
"That," Nell spoke coldly as she glared at the unfortunate bear. "Is Mr Travers. I don't like him anymore."
"Did Travers give him to you?" Faith asked gently.
"For my birthday." Nell confirmed. "When I was three." She took Mr Travers from her mother, clutching him reflexively. "Mr Trav. . . Uncle Quen. . . you know who I mean. . .he wasn't always able to come to visit a lot, but he always came for my birthday, except for the last one." She bit her lip, remembering the horrible feelings that had assaulted her when she had been told that her adored guardian was dead. "He helped me open the box. My hands were too little. He said that he was mine and that I should be the one to name him, so I called him Mr Travers after him. Then when Uncle Quen. . .when he was away and I was all by myself, when I wanted to talk to him and he wasn't there, I talked to Mr Travers." She blinked furiously to keep the tears from shedding, ashamed of her weakness.
"Nell. . ."
"It doesn't matter now." The five year old cut her off firmly, marching across to the window and trying to open the latch, fully intending to hurl the luckless Mr Travers out.
Faith caught her daughter's hand gently, restraining her. "Don't."
"I don't want him! I don't love him anymore. I hate him!" Nell declared passionately, losing her battle against tears. "He gave Mr Travers to me but he lied to me! He was bad!"
"I know." Faith said quietly, slowly drawing her daughter into her arms. "I know. It's hard to find out that someone you trusted lied to you." She stroked her daughter's hair. "But you loved Mr Travers, the bear one, I mean, before you found out, didn't you?"
"He was my friend." Nell admitted quietly.
"Baby," She paused, trying to find the words to explain it in a way that a child could grasp. "Even if the person who gave you Mr Travers is bad, it doesn't make Mr Travers himself bad. From what you've told me, he was there for you when you needed a friend wasn't he? Just because something comes from a bad person doesn't mean that it can't be good and beautiful."
Inwardly, she smiled wryly at the memory of her fourteen year old self, the girl who had been so certain that she would hate the baby growing inside of her because of the circumstances of its conception.
Constance had told her the same thing, almost word for word, when she had coaxed her away from the abortion clinic.
Regardless of what her late Watcher had done, she would never cease to be grateful to her for that.
"I guess it's not his fault who gave him to me." Nell conceded reluctantly, smoothing down Mr Travers' mussed fur. She kissed the top of his head, reflecting guiltily on how lonely he must have been when she wouldn't talk to him. She kissed him a second time, just to be sure that he knew that she wasn't mad at him, whispering, so quietly that only Slayer hearing could have picked it up. "I love you."
/And I love you, Nell. / Faith told her daughter silently. /More than anything. You have no idea how much I don't want to do this. /
"Sweetie?" She drew a deep breath as Nell turned to look up at her with enquiring eyes. "There's something I need to talk to you about."
Kent, England, 2002.
Her dark, shoulder length curls danced as she proudly demonstrated her newly learned sparring abilities to her admiring audience.
Her smile was bright and her normally pale cheeks were slightly flushed with exertion as she finished the exercise flawlessly and ran over to where Uncle Quentin was sitting.
"Did you see?"
"I saw, Ella." He smiled indulgently at his little ward, delighted with the progress she had made.
That Kendra would die and Eleanor's mother would be called as the little girl was born had been unexpected, as had the effect the rogue Slayer's calling would have on her daughter. They had known that the little girl would be a Potential, but the additional Slayer traits she had developed had been a surprise, and a very pleasant one.
Nell, though not quite four, knew, for she had often been told, that she was a very special little girl.
It wasn't that she might one day be called as a Slayer, or even that she already seemed to be halfway there.
She was special because of what she had been chosen to do long before she was born.
She was special because one day she would be the only one who would able to stop the bad people letting monsters into the world.
She was special because one day she would save the world.
A little over a year later, she saw that that was why he had always been so nice to her, why it had even seemed like he loved her.
In a way, Nell supposed that her guardian really had loved her but it had always been because of what she was going to do, never for herself.
She barely heard Faith's explanations about what she wanted her to do and why she wanted her to do it, or her assurances that she, and the others, would be right there with her, that she wouldn't be alone.
She had thought that her mother loved her, really loved her.
She had been wrong.
Her mother was just like Uncle Quentin.
Her voice was cold as she responded to her mother's question. "I understand."
TBC.
Author's Note: That's it for now, but please don't forget to review. This is one of the few stories I have written that's notmostly fluff, so I want to know how I'm doing.