CoF - Jypzrose - Those Left Behind

“Just tells us what happened Ms. McClay,” Pictures fan out across the cheap wooden table in front of her. Pictures that bring that night back to her mind, bright, vivid and clear. Her throat has closed at just the glimpse of red hair and blood and she can’t look at them any longer. She barely hears the detective, whose almost kind voice is belied by the cold edge in his faded blue eyes. Blue eyes that are nothing like the one’s she dreams about to keep her sanity at night, listening to the other inmates in the holding cells. Mostly hookers and drug addicts, whose moans of despair and colorful curses against the police color her dreams and make her waking hours terrifying.

“I-I c-c-can’t,” she whispers, turning her head and squeezing her eyes shut. She hears the disgusted sigh of the detective but she doesn’t care. What was she supposed to have done? Hello, police? I want to report a murder? A bunch of murders really. A hellgod was trying to get back to her home dimension and killed all my friends. But, we stopped her. So, go us. Somehow she doesn’t think that she would have been taken seriously.

“Listen, Tara,” He is using her first name now, trying to make her feel comfortable, maybe soothe her into talking. She almost wants to tell him that he’s wasting his time. “Maybe you and Dawn were just at the wrong place at the wrong time,” You can say that again, she thinks, involuntarily turning when he rustles the pictures to bring one of Buffy to the forefront. The sight of the tiny Slayer, once so strong and almost larger than life, makes her stomach lurch dangerously. For so long, that whole night had been like a dream, a faraway nightmare that couldn’t touch any of them anymore. They were a family, bonded together with love and happiness. It was disheartening to realize that the last several months had been the dream. “Maybe, Buffy got Dawn into something she shouldn’t of and you went there to protect the girl. But I can’t do anything to help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“Buffy would die to protect Dawn,” And did, she finishes silently. It’s taken every meditation technique she can think of to keep her nerves from snapping. She’s briefly considered using her magic to get her out of this, but she’s never been that powerful, or interested in doing something that goes against everything she believes in. Magic was not to be abused, and once you started, you never go back.

“We’ve got you for kidnaping, Ms. McClay. Taking a minor across state lines and hindering an investigation into the suspicious deaths of several of your friends. You’re not doing yourself any favors right now.” He sighs, looks down at the quiet woman trembling in her seat. She’s not exactly what he would call a hardened criminal. Hell, he’s even pretty sure she had nothing to do with the deaths displayed so vividly in the pictures littering the table. But, his feelings did not solve cases. They couldn’t be served up in Federal court as evidence. He needed facts. And she wasn’t giving them. And neither was Dawn Summers from what he could tell. In fact, the teen was nothing but petulant and plain nasty during her questioning, finally refusing to speak to them at all.

“Why don’t you ask the Sunnydale police what happened. It’s not the first strange occurrence to happen in that town.” It was the first thing she’s said that wasn’t marred by stuttering, and also the first thing to even hint at anything to do with what happened. Frustration slams into him so hard, he slaps his hands on the table, making her jump.

“Maybe you didn’t understand me...” he trails off when a knock sounds on the door, followed by it opening to admit a young, good looking black man dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase. Wonderful, a lawyer, he thinks, glaring at the girl in front of him.

“This interview is over detective. Now if you’ll excuse me, I would like to talk to my client.” Tara’s eyes shoot up to the man staring down the detective. Something in her brain clicks and tells her that she should recognize him. From where, she can’t remember though.

Unconcerned, she turns away and thinks about her life two days ago. She and Dawn had been talking about Prom dresses, since Rick had asked her to go. Spike had left them around two, wanting to beat the traffic into Philly. He’d wait for sunset in his car, then make his rounds of the bars. The kiss he had given her before he left still made her stomach tingle, even now, in this bleak interrogation room. She misses him so much, she thinks she might scream from it. Her heart clenches at the thought of how he must have felt, coming home to find them gone. Tears gather in her eyes that she can’t be with him to hold him, to let him know that they are all right. Well, she’s all right at least. She hasn’t seen Dawn since they had been taken from the house.

The sound of the door closing and a small snort of disgust brings her eyes back to the lawyer. That annoying sense of unplaced recognition niggles at her again as she watches him place his briefcase on the table, then move to sit down. She finds herself staring into a calm, gentle pair of brown eyes. Eyes that look like they’ve seen the world and all its horrors and had survived worse.

“Tara, I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Charles Gunn.” She nearly fell out of the chair at the revelation. The tumblers in her mind click and turn to fall into place, bringing up the image of the man as she had seen him last. That image certainly didn’t jibe with the sleek, sophisticated looking man in front of her right now.

“H-how. . .” she trails off, her confusion clearly written across her pretty features. He smiles, a small, humorless smile and reaches for his briefcase.

“That’s a long story for another time. Probably better to ask Angel anyway.” He shuffles through some papers and pulls out a legal pad, a pen and a small recorder. “I need to know how old Dawn was when you left California.”

“F-fourteen. She turned fifteen before we got to Pennsylvania.” she answers automatically, her voice level and calmer than she felt. He works with Angel, he’s here to help her. But that knowledge does little to help her nerves settle at the fact that he’s impersonating a lawyer. What if he gets caught? Then they’d all be in a world of trouble and not just her and Dawn. “Where is she?”

“She’s been released to her father’s custody,” he answers, jotting down a couple of notes. “When’s her birthday?”

“July 20th.” She listens as his pen scratches across paper again, her brows furrowing together at the word ‘emancipation’. “What’s going on?” she asks again. He gives a quick shake of his head, taps the recorder then goes back to scribbling. It takes her a second to realize that he’s suggesting the police might still be listening.

“Do you know if Dawn’s mother or Buffy left a will regarding her care giver?” She blinks at him as precious seconds tick by. She tries to process the question, but her confusion keeps getting in the way. He just continues to stare at her, his eyes kind, a gentle smile pulling at his full mouth.

“I-I don’t know.” she finally manages. She’d never thought about it really. How does one make arrangements for an apocalypse? They were all pretty sure that they were going to die. He nods goes back to his notes, leaving her to try to read them upside down. The word ‘will’ was circled but that was all she can make out. He really does have horrible handwriting.

“You have a bail hearing this afternoon. I’m going to attempt to get you released on your own recognizance, but since you’ve fled the state once already, that might not fly. Either way, you will be out of here tonight.” He finishes his notes, puts the pad, pen and recorder back in the briefcase. Once he’s snapped it shut he smiles at her. “You’ll be ok.”

“Have you seen Spike?” Her eyes go to his face, searching. He smiles again and nods.

“Yeah. It’ll be ok,” he says again, before picking up his case and going to knock on the door. He gives her one last look as the officer lets him out. Her mind is soaring with hope, so she doesn’t notice when the guard takes her arm and guides her out of the room and back to her holding cell. He’s seen Spike, she thinks, as the bars pulls shut behind her. Spike’s here. She sinks to the too-thin bunk and stares unseeing at the floor. Suddenly, things seem a bit brighter than they had when she woke up. Spike was in California and would help them get out of here. All thoughts of jail and spending the rest of her life there faded away with the image of incredible blue eyes and platinum hair. He’s here!

“Bloody hell, peaches! Why can’t I go to the soddin’ bail hearing. I need to see her.” He paces around Angel’s office, black leather swirling behind him in a mock imitation of a super-heroes cape. Angel sighs and throws the letter opener he’s been toying with on the desk blotter and leans forward.

“I know that, Spike. But you just can’t. We don’t know if they are looking for you, and with your ‘special’ condition, you couldn’t survive in jail.”

“Bugger that. Let ‘em bloody well try to take me. Chip or no I’ll bathe in their blood,” He snarls, fixing snapping gold eyes on his sire. Angel sighs the sigh of the put upon and tries another tactic. His face vamps and his gold eyes clash with his childe’s. A low warning growl emanates from his chest, the sound bringing the younger vamp to a stop. When he is no longer pacing a hole in the floor and his face is once again the handsome planes that had attracted Angelus’ attentions over a century ago, Angel waves a hand at a chair, indicating he should sit. Without thought, he sits, scowling at the floor at how easily his sire controlled him. Must be getting soft, he thinks with disgust and pulls out a cigarette.

Angel waits until its lit and a few, calming drags have been sucked into dead lungs before continuing. “We’ll have her out tonight. You can see her then.”

“That’s going to be a little trickier, but we’re working on it too.” He nods once, an agitated jerky movement that let’s Angel know that all this sitting around is pissing him off. For the briefest of seconds, he almost wishes they could do it the way his childe wanted. Storm the jail with fangs flashing and axes flying and take back what they had stolen from him. Violence made sense. This, he thinks as he looks around his elegant office, doesn’t make sense.

“How in the bloody hell did you come to work for the most evil empire on the planet?” he asks, flicking his cigarette ashes into an urn perched on the edge of Angel’s desk. The fact that his childe has put into words the very thoughts he had been thinking isn’t surprising. But his eyes widen with it anyway.

“Ok. In case you haven’t noticed, I got nothin’ but time at the moment.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growls, his dark eyes flashing yellow again. The younger vamp just shrugs and goes back to smoking his cigarette.

“Can’t say I’m surprised, mind you. Always could sense a touch of Angelus shining through that soul shield o’ yours.”

“Spike,” whatever he might have said was interrupted when a knock came on the door. Charles lets himself in without waiting for the ok from Angel and moves to a chair next to the blonde. He drops into it and rubs a hand over his temple.

“Paperwork’s filed. Not sure if I’ll have it in time for this afternoon’s hearing but they’ll try.” he says, looking between the two vamps.

“No. This should be cake. I mean, she has no priors, was as straight as an arrow before that night. And hopefully, we can provide evidence proving she was doing what Buffy wanted.”

“How’s that?” the blonde turns to look at the newly-minted lawyer with a scarred brow raised high.

“A will? Buffy was a lot of things, but prepared for caring for Dawn in the event of her death was not one of them.” he scoffs, crushing out the cigarette in the urn.

“We’ve got it covered, Spike.” He couldn’t say how sick he is of hearing that. That seemed to be all they said from the second he’d walked into this damn building. He is up and pacing again, his agitation evident in the strong lines of his shoulders and back, his face twisted with it.

“Well, that’s all good and well then isn’t it?” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his hair. Gunn and Angel exchange a look but don’t reply.

“Spike, calm down. Go up to my penthouse and get some rest. I’ll call you when the hearing’s over,” Angel instructs, pushing a button that opens an elevator next to his desk. At first, he looks as if he’ll refuse. But then with a huff of great disgust he crosses the room and steps into the elevator.

“Why did you turn him again?” he hears Charles ask before the doors slide closed. He can’t help the smile that curls his lip when Angel’s answer reaches him as they shut tight.

A/N-yes, I sped up the whole Angel takes over W&H thing by a good year. So sue me. Shortish chappy, but it was more of a transitional chap. More on Spike’s thoughts the next time around. And the return of Hank! (Boo, hiss) L.

Part Ten-I Can Feel it Coming Back Again...

"I don't see how, you're honor. It clearly states in the papers dated April 30th of last year that one Dawn Summers filed and obtained emancipation from her father, Hank Summers. Since there was no kidnapping, how can you in good conscious let the charges stand against my client?" Charles interrupts the stuttering DA smoothly. The judge is moving around the room, removing his suit coat and slipping into the dark black robe of his profession. The DA isn't going to let Charles swoop in and take away his case without an argument, however.

"We only have it on Mr. Gunn's word that the papers were filed before Ms. McClay and Ms. Summers left town. Ms. Summers herself has not mentioned them any of the times we have interviewed her."

"It was a clerical error on my offices part and from what I understand, Ms. Summers hasn't been exactly cooperative with your office." Charles shot back, his dark eyes flashing. The DA's eyes narrowed at that, and he opened his mouth to retort.

"Please! Mr. Gunn, Mr. McCoy. I just ate and all this double talk is making me gassy," the judge cut in. He rests a hand on his ample stomach for a brief second before sliding into his chair. He scans the papers in question as the lawyers wait for his decision. "Everything seems in order, Mr. McCoy. If the minor child was emancipated from her father at the time of the alleged kidnapping, you have no case."

"We have evidence that Ms. McClay was involved some how with Ms. Summers' sisters death. She suffered a break down before that night and she never made any effort to contact Ms. Summer's father to let him know that his daughter was alright. I cannot believe that this is the sort of person that should be caring for a young child."

"Emancipated minor," Charles corrects, straightening his shoulders and preparing for battle. "And my client has not been charged with any wrong doing pertaining to the death of Buffy Summers, or the others. And her ‘break down' as Mr. McCoy calls it, was not unique to Ms. McClay. Sunnydale City Hall released a statement that a gas leak was responsible for the influx of patients admitted to the mental ward of Sunnydale hospital. Once she was away from the city, she returned to perfect health."

"And if you have something to charge Ms. McClay with pertaining to those, then do it. However, I'm here to decide whether or not to dismiss kidnapping charges, not murder. I'm sorry, Jack. You have no case. Charges are dismissed."

"Thank you, you're honor." Charles says smoothly, a self-satisfied smile spreading across his face. He flashes a smug grin at the DA then turns to leave. The judges voice makes him pause.

"I would suggest, Mr. Gunn, that you speak to your legal aids and make sure that a mistake like this never happens again." The judge peers at him over the rim of his wire glasses, the look in his eyes unmistakable.

"Already done, sir." Charles assures with a smile. As he leaves the office and gets swallowed up in the people milling around the court house, he starts to whistle softly to himself. I love my job.

Inch by inch he comes awake, slowly realizing that the heat surrounding him isn't a memory, but real. The smell of honey and strawberries tickles his nose and the sound of steady breathing breaks through the last of his sleep fog, jerking him fully awake.

"Tara?" he gasps, hope making his voice rough. He rolls over to see her, bathed in the moonlight cascading in through the picture window by Angel's bed. Her eyes are wide, almost shocked as she stares at him. One, long, precious second passes between them where they don't speak. Hands hover in the air, inches from skin as if afraid to touch, afraid to test the reality of the other person. He can feel the heat radiating off her from where his hand is stayed close to her hair. She can feel his essence in her fingertips drifting over his chest.

Then, by its own volition, her hand presses against his chest, searing him with its heat and breaking him out of his stupor. In the next second, they are in each other's arms, their embrace tight as their lips cling greedily together. When she pulls back for air, his mouth roams over her cheeks, her eyelids, her hair. She's real, his mind tells him, and his arms tighten further around her full warmth.

"Was so scared," he murmurs into her hair. He feels her fingers tense on his back, feels her tremble in his hold.

"Me too," she answers, her voice muffled against his skin, her breath hot against it.

"‘m sorry, luv. So sorry I wasn't there," she hears the regret in his voice to the depths of her soul. She pulls back far enough to look up at him, her smile small but enough to make his silent heart flip in his chest.

"Let m' guard down. I know better than tha'." She finally silences him with a kiss, feels him shudder, can taste the saltiness of tears he doesn't even realize he's shedding.

"I'm here now," she assures him quietly, her own eyes bright with unshed tears. "And I'm not going anywhere." She buries her face in his chest and takes a deep breath, using his scent to wash away the bitterness of jail. She could barely believe it when Charles got her out on minimal bail. Absolute shock had settled in when he'd come to pick her up from the jail and had told her that all charges were dropped. She didn't know how he had done it, and despite the rumors that Wolfram and Hart were lawyers for evil, she didn't care. They could defend Glory for all she cares as long they help her to keep her family together.

"Is there anythin' I can do to make it up to you?" She sighs at his insistence that he has anything to make up to her.

"Just hold me," she whispers, tightening her own grasp around him. He rolls to his back, bringing her with him to sprawl across his chest, her hair fanning out over his shoulder.

"He's going to contest the validity of the emancipation," Charles is standing in front of Angel's desk, his thrill at getting Tara off tempered by annoyance that Hank Summers wouldn't just fade silently away. Angel sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He's tired but he doesn't want to go upstairs and interrupt the reunion.

"Well, he has a good chance. We got the papers back dated and the judge has sworn to testify that he signed the papers himself. But...." He trails off, his face letting Angel know that there wasn't much they could do. "The only good thing is, he won't be able to press charges against Tara for kidnapping again."

"Yeah," They've won a battle but the war was still raging it seemed. "I guess it's time to bring Hank in for a sit down."

"Got any better ones? We should try to keep this out of court now. I mean, this might be an evil law firm, but we can only do so much before we get caught, right?"

"Yeah," Charles scratches his eyebrow then sighs. "All right. I'll call his lawyer. See if I can't get a meeting set up."

"Ok. Stop by the lab afterwards and see if Fred has the results of those tests yet." Angel instructs, his mind switching gears from his childe's problems to his own.

"Yep. See you in the morning."
"Goodnight." Angel sighs and pushes to his feet. He wanders over to the window and looks out at Los Angeles covered in night. He tries to see it like a normal person would. The lights, the vibrancy of life pulsing even at this time of night. All he can see, though, is a pit of death and despair. A pit that he used to protect. Now. . .well, now he didn't know what the hell he was doing.

His mind wanders upstairs to his penthouse. He can imagine his childe and mate as they snuggle together, safe in each other’s arms. A deep pang of regret spasms his silent chest, hard and fast, causing him to lean against the window as tears sting his eyes.

It's amazing how his life can be summed up in those two, simple names. He'd never have what his childe had. Never be able to feel the woman he loved in his arms, never be able to see the child he was never supposed to have, grow fully into a man. His childe, a soulless demon, had more to live for than he did. Life was a series of cruel jokes to him. Each one worse than the last.

I miss you, he says silently, fingers playing along the unforgiving glass of the window. Then, with a loud sniff and a swipe of an arm across his eyes, he walks over to the couch. He lies down and closes his eyes, the images dancing behind his closed lids ensuring that he won't be able to sleep for a very, very long time.

Dawn is the epitome of teenage hostility in the conference room settled in the middle of Wolfram and Hart. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her wide, vibrant eyes are shooting daggers at her father across the wide table. Hank is just sitting there, ignoring the hostile vibes his youngest is sending him. His lawyer is to the left of him, while Dawn is as far away from him as she can get in the spacious room.

"I don't see what there is to talk about. I don't' want to live with you. I'm emancipated. What the hell do you care where I live? You should be happy. No daughter to muck up your love life," she sneers for not the first time since she was reunited with her father. Hank sighs, deep and annoyed.

"You are my daughter, Dawn. And your mother and sister are dead. I'm all you have left." He replies for what feels like the millionth time. She rolls her eyes in response and lets out a huff.

"If that were true I'd be really depressed right now. You didn't want me when mom died. Why the hell do you care now?"

"I've always cared, Dawn,” he answers in a sincere tone. Too bad it falls just short of the mark to her ears.

"Yeah, whatever. That's why the child support checks were always on time, right?" Whatever her father might have said in response is cut off by the sound of the door opening. The grim line the teen’s mouth had been set in blooms into a wide smile when she sees Spike and Tara file in behind Angel and Gunn. She's out of her seat like a shot, throwing herself at the blonde vamp without hesitation. He holds her close, drinking in her feel like a man dying of thirst.

"Hello, bit," he says, his voice thick with emotion. He blinks when she brushes a kiss across his cheek, before turning away to wrap herself in Tara's open arms. This was home, this was family. Not the sterile life her father promised. She'd take the stability and love that these two people offered over all the money in her father's bank account any day.

The ones watching that know just what Spike is don’t think it’s ironic that this child would feel so safe with him. It’s evident in the way he watches her, the way his hand slides over the gloss of her hair that he would never harm her.

"Can we get this started please? My client is a busy man." Hank's lawyer says, interrupting the tender scene. Hank watches them with a detached interest. He doesn't see the love the three obviously share. He sees two people trying to take something from him. And he's never let go of something of his unless he wanted too.

"Of course," Charles says with a chilly smile that makes the other lawyer narrow his eyes with suspicion. "I would like to thank you for taking time from your schedule to meet with us." he begins as the others settle down at the table. All except Angel, who hovers close to the window, a silent observer to the proceedings. For now.

"I don't see what the purpose of this meeting is. It's clear to me that your office is rather. . .suspect in its practices. I'm not sure how you got the judge to sign off on those emancipation papers, but I assure you they won't hold up in court." The lawyer begins, his own smug smile coming to the surface.

"Those papers are legal, Mr. Stone. But that's not why we are here. We are here to ask Mr. Summers to not fight the emancipation."

"That's preposterous. What am I supposed to do? Let her go back with these people that couldn't even have the decency to let me know she was alive?" Hank says with a distracted wave of his hand towards the trio across the table from him. "They changed her identity, dyed her hair and stole her from me. And there's still the subject of just what happened to Buffy. How do I know that they didn't kill her?"

"Bloody ridiculous. Tara wouldn't' hurt a fly and I can't," Spike snarls, yellow flashing over blue.

"Oh? You can't? Why's that?" Mr. Stone asks, his pen tapping lightly on the legal pad in front of him. Spike glares but doesn't answer.

"They saved me, dad." Dawn says, the word ‘dad' dripping from her lips like poison.
"How do I know that? How do I know that they didn't kill your sister and her friends to take you."

"To what end?" Charles slides in, trying to get back in charge of the proceedings.

"Ransom," Hank says in a matter of fact tone. Spike snorts indelicately at that.

"Have you ever been contacted with a ransom demand?" Charles asks. For the first time, Hank looks a bit unsure.

"Then how can you even consider that? I have copies of Dawn's report cards and a letter from the guidance councilor at her school. I also have copies of her reports from Sunnydale high. I think you'll be able to see the difference. Since going to Pennsylvania, your daughter has become a straight A student, is involved in several extra curricular activities, has friends and a boyfriend. She wasn't nearly as successful here in California." Charles whips out the papers and slides them across the table where they sit, unnoticed by Hank.

"That is beside the point. She is my daughter and these people had no right to take her."

"Spike, not helping," Angel warns from the window. But the blond is too far-gone to care. He's tired of this man pretending to care when everyone in the room including his own lawyer knew this was just a power trip.

"Where the hell were you when your daughters were watching their mum die? Where were you when they buried her? Where in the soddin' hell were you when a hell god wanted to flay your little girl to ribbons? Where were you when Buffy died to save her?" He's up, out of his chair, his words a roar as his anger overtakes him. He doesn't hear Angel's second warning or feel the way Tara's fingers are clawing at the leather of his duster to get him to sit back down. He doesn't feel his face shift and change, bringing his demon to the surface with a snap of fangs and flashing golden eyes.

"What the fuck...!" Hank shouts, as he and his lawyer spring from their chairs to get away from the monster across the table. "What the hell is this!"

"That's it. Everybody out. I want to talk to Mr. Summers alone," Angel bellows, seizing his childe and forcibly hauling him to the door. Charles sighs heavily and gets up, taking Dawn and Tara by the arm and leading them out. Spike whirls on his sire as soon as his feet return to the floor and tries to get around him to get to Hank. "Spike. Go." Angel commands with a growl.

"Please, Spike. Let Angel talk to him," Tara pleads quietly, tugging gently on his coat. It’s her gentle touch that finally seeps through the rage reddening his vision, and without thought he shifts back into his human face.

"Fine. But, I promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. And I will do it. Even if I have to go through him,” the blonde says with a snarl. Angel nods, then quickly brushes his hand across Spike's cheek.

"It'll be all right," he promises, with a conviction his childe has never seen before in his eyes. His eyes narrow at it, but he has no time to question it. Angel turns away from him, and eyeballs the lawyer cowering next to his client. "You too. Out." Mr. Stone scampers out, seeming to forget all he learned in law school and happily escapes the room. It's now down to just Hank and Angel, the point driven home to the man with the quiet, but definitive click of the door as it shuts.

"I don't know what you think you have to say to me. But there is no way I'm allowing my daughter to stay with that. . .that. . .thing!"

"Mr. Summers, why don't you take a seat so we can sort this all out. There's some things you didn't know about your oldest daughter that I think you need to hear." Angel starts, his voice deceptively mild. Hank looks at the dark haired man for a long moment before finally settling into a chair. He looks nervous, his normally polished exterior marred by fear. Angel's only mildly surprised that he enjoys the smell of it. "There's also something about Spike you should know. He's a vampire, yes." He pauses to let Hank's sputters of denial pass back into silence. "But he's fitted with a behavior modification chip that keeps him from harming humans."

Despite the human's disbelief of what Spike was, he does look relieved at that. A thin, nasty smile spreads across Angel's face, turning relief to chilling fear once more. Hank lets out a strangled gasp when the man in front of him transforms, revealing himself to the stunned business man.

Five sets of eyes rivet to the closed door at the scream of terror that explodes through it.

Part Eleven-I'm just lookin' for a happy endin'. . .

“Thank you,” he says, holding out a hand to his sire. It takes a lot to say, Angel knows. It just makes it that much more satisfying to hear.

“Oh, I dunno. Get tossed, sing “ding dong the Ponce is dead” and thank my good fortune for finally being rid o’ you.” He returns smoothly, his own eyes twinkling with mirth. Neither could remember a time where it had been like this between them. Both were thinking that maybe they kind of liked it.

“Never thought I’d say this. But don’t be a stranger.” Angel says with a smile. “Maybe call when you don’t need something.”

“Now, why go and break tradition, dad?” It’s said with a smirk and Angel can’t help but laugh.

“Thanks for everything, Angel.” Tara says quietly. She comes up behind Spike and laces her hand through the crook of his arm. Angel gives a sad smile at the look the two blondes share.

“Yeah, thanks for totally freaking out my dad and making him piss his pants.” Dawn says with a giggle. She’s standing just behind Spike, waiting for them to get on with the goodbyes so they can leave.

“Bit! I’m shocked and appalled that you would condone such behavior.” Spike’s face is the picture of parental outrage. To bad the affect is ruined by the evil glint in his vibrant eyes.

“Whatever,” Dawn retorts with a roll of her eyes. Tara shakes her head indulgently at the teen and lightly punches Spike’s arm for encouraging her. Nobody knows exactly what Angel said-or did-to Hank that had the man scampering from the room, sputtering about monsters. But whatever it was, Hank’s lawyer had the proper papers sent to Wolfram and Hart stating that Summers gave up all rights to Dawn.

“Yeah, alright. You should be more worried about her corruptin’ me. She’s got quite the mean streak, that one. And don’t’ trust the quiet one beside me, either.” Tara blinks her eyes innocently at the blonde and struggles to contain the smile that’s trying to burst free.

“Well, they are women,” Angel says sagely, to which his childe nods in agreement.

“Oy, put your spell book away, Glinda. Just teasin’ ya.” He leans down and places a kiss on her lips, the emotion flowing between them making the others in the room feel like intruders.

After a moment, Angel clears his throat, causing the two to break apart. Tara flashes a sheepish smile and blushes prettily. He merely smirks and quirks a brow at his sire. Jealous, the look clearly asked. Yes, Angel replied silently.

“Come on, Dawn. Let’s get out to the car. Thanks for that too, Angel.” Tara says with a smile, before turning to the teenager.

“You, ah, didn’t take the Viper. Did you?” Spike just smiles wide, before touching a hand to his brow in a salute.

“Ta, Peaches.” Then, in a swirl of black leather, he is gone. Leaving Angel to watch and wish for things that just weren’t possible.

One year has come and gone since the night that sent them on the run. It’s been three months since they left Angel’s, their make-shift family put back together again. It was a silent, mutual decision between them that they would return here, to the place that changed their lives.

The cemetery is drenched in blackness, the only light coming from the few streetlamps glowing along the parameter. He moves easily through it, senses on high alert for those like him. He’s ready to defend the two girls walking behind him in a seconds notice. This place, however, seems to be quiet tonight, thankfully. As far as he can tell, there should be no interruptions for them.

The graves aren’t very far apart. Buffy is resting next to her mother, the headstone small and insignificant for all she had done in her short life.

No mention of how she saved the world. A lot. Of how her calling had taken over her life and made her its champion, whether she wanted it or not. Or how she took a hold of that calling and did everything she had to, to make sure that the world was a safer place, for at least one more night. Her father hadn’t known that side of her. Not then. And he would never truly understand it now. But, he supposes the man did the best he could.

He traces a finger over the letters forming her name and smiles. Such a tiny woman, full of power and attitude. She changed his life and hadn’t even meant too. Because of her, he was a man. He would love her forever for that.

Dawn is next to him, her cheek resting lightly on his shoulder, silent tears pooling in her eyes as she looks down at her sister’s and mother’s grave. She smiles when he looks at her though, a bright, genuine smile that tells him she’s alright. Since their return to Prosper, she resumed to thrive. She went to the prom with Rick, and held her head high to all the whispers and taunts she received from some of the other students. Eventually, things settled down, and with summer on its way, she was looking forward to spending the hot months with her friends and Rick. The mother of the girl that called the police had apologized to Tara, once the news spread that they were back. It took a little getting used to for the town’s folk to call them by the right names, but life had finally returned to what it was before.

Sleep well, luv, he says, saying one final goodbye to the woman that had started his transformation to who he was now. Then, his eyes raise and scan the area for the woman that had completed it.

He found her easily enough. She was sitting on the ripe, green grass, staring at the hard, granite stone that indicated where Willow was buried. He leaves Dawn at her mother’s grave and walks the short distance over to Tara and kneels down next to her. He makes sure he can see the teen and get to her quickly if needed before turning to smile at Tara.

“You all right, luv?” She nods, her eyes shining with her own tears but her mouth smiling. She’s done well since they returned home, also. She got a promotion at her job and has started to make some friends. She’s also-at his insistence-started to take a couple of courses at the local community college. She practices magic daily now, keeping herself in touch with her mother-and in some small way, Willow. “Any regrets?”

She doesn’t miss the hesitant, almost shy way he asks this. She reaches out and takes his hand, bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss before rubbing her cheek over his knuckles.

“I love you. But, if you want to know whether or not I wish they weren’t dead, I have to say yes, I do wish it.” she answers simply, honestly. “Their lives were cut too short, to violently. They should have lived a long, long time.” He nods at that, agreeing with her. He briefly wonders what their lives might have been like had the others survived. Then, he looks into her smoky eyes and realizes that things happen for a reason. He’s never thought much about destiny or life’s course before. But, since that night, he’s become an expert at it. “I’ll miss her forever.” she continues, her voice soft and wistful. “But, I think that the outcome is better than any of us could have expected.”

“Yeah.” he pulls his hand back and searches for a cigarette, the orange glow from his lighter warming his skin as he lights the tip. He looks back at her and smiles, letting her know that he understands. “I love you, Tara,” he tells her, conveying with his eyes just how much. Her eyes soften dramatically in the dim light and her smile widens. She reaches out and brushes a hand across his cheek, then accepts the kiss he offers.

“Ready to go?” she asks him quietly, suddenly feeling the need to get out of this place of death. She wants to remember them all in life. Vibrant and alive, perfectly flawed and heroic. That’s how they would all be forever etched in her memory. Not this, grass and dirt and stone. This did them no justice.

“Yeah. More than.” He rises fluidly to his feet then holds out a hand to her. She takes one last second to look at the stone covering Willow and sends a silent goodbye up to the heavens. Then, she reaches out and takes his hand, allowing him to pull her easily to her feet. She sinks into the comfort of his one-armed embrace and moves with him across the cemetery. Dawn falls in step beside them, her fingers linking with Tara’s as they leave the past, more than ready to face the present and future together.

They pause at the gates, turning to take one, last look at the site, before walking away for good. Their voices drift into the air, floating along the breeze as they talk of heading home. They fade away over the graves of those lost, where several small points of light have gathered. As the last word dissipates, the lights shoot up towards the sky, taking their rightful place in the heavens with all the other stars.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N-Ok, this one is done. I would like to thank everybody that read this and extra special thanks to Kantayra, who has been a steady supporter of my Spara obsession since the beginning. I would also like to thank Nikita, my beta, who helped make sure that you people at least thought I was coherent. I hope that the ending is satisfying and hope you continue on with me as I complete Purloined Mistress. A list of the songs I used for chapter titles follows.

Where do we Go-Buffy the Musical
One Week-Bare Naked Ladies
Believe-Cher
Iris-Goo Goo Dolls
Home Sweet Home-poem by John Howard Payne
All I want for Christmas-Mariah Carey
Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree-Brenda Lee
Without You-Motley Crue
Renegade-Styx
Lightening Crashes-Live
Wave on Wave-Pat Green

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

Jypzrose - jypzrose@aol.com

Those Left Behind

Part Nine-the Jig is up, the Word is out, they finally found me...

Part Ten-I Can Feel it Coming Back Again...

Part Eleven-I'm just lookin' for a happy endin'. . .

Back to Jypzrose