FIC: Ascension's Shadow (2/?)

[Alan Rogers <masterofwords@xxxxxxxxxx>]

Thanks to everyone who sent me feedback! 
Considering this is my first fanfiction ever, I am slightly nervous about
things.  

And a special thanks to Dan for his extra time and effort in pointing out
the inconsistencies in the last installment of this thing;  I
thought I would put a quick couple of notes here to address some of
those.

A couple of hours of research has still not resolved the first name issue
for Buffy, so I'm going to stick to just 'Buffy' until I find proof of
'Elizabeth'.  And there is nothing conclusive on way or another as
to when Xander started living in his basement.  

This is an AU, but I had never given thought to the divergence points
with Cannon; basically, it works like this.  The Mayor lived -- only
his demon body was destroyed by the fire.  Angel was on a euphoric
high from Slayer blood and tried to confront the politically inclined
warlock on his own, but that didn't turn out so well for Angel. 
Buffy DID NOT get accept to UCLA, but she doesn't know that yet (damn
late acceptance letters) and nor did the Watcher's Council accept her
resignation from their august membership.  Those are the ones I've
thought of for now...but that's probably not all.

And Dan, when talking with my beta-reader and muse recently, I suddenly
remembered the MAJOR plot divergence that created this whole thing; but
to reveal that would spoil the whole story...so it back, relax, and enjoy
the ride.

Thanks, 

~alan, the mad dragon

---

Ascension's Shadow
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fanfiction

by: Alan Rogers (masterofwords@xxxxxxxxxx)

Rating: R, for graphic violence 

Disclaimer:  I, Alan Rogers, do not in any way, shape, form or fashion own anything of or related to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series.  Those rights are held exclusively by Joss Whedon, Warner Bros. Entertainment, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Inc., and any other entities, corporations or groups not named here that have legal rights to aforementioned  series.

The Original Characters of Charlie Rille, Auric Ward, Falcon Smith and all other Original Characters in this Fanfiction are the sole property of myself, Alan Rogers.

This is a work of fiction.  Some of the cultures and histories are based on real cultures, groups, events, etc., but MANY poetic liberties were taken.  My apologies in advance to any who may be offended by my warping of history and culture.

Acknowledgments: To Joanne W, who made me love Buffy Fanfiction, Kimber, for showing me just how much fun it could be do create a wild Alternate Universe, to Gee, for showing me that a series doesn't have to move fast to be wonderful, and can be as much like the show as the show is like fanfiction (if that makes sense) and to Ozmandayus for demonstrating just how serious and emotional shipper-fics can be. 

Dedication: To Kimber, for endless patience with my rambling and inspiring me to write this, no matter how bad it turns out to be. 

Summary: The night of Graduation Day, Xander Harris returns home to have his life changed forever in the blink of an eye.  But when Buffy is given a new Watcher and refused admittance to UC Sunnydale, things start going from bad to worse. 

Spoilers: Graduation Day I & II especially; Seasons 1-3 (minor) -- not much of seasons 4-5 because I'm changing so much.

---

Chapter Three: Minutes In Between 

Breathing had long since become desperate gasping, trying to drink the air through the cold humidity as she halfway ran and halfway stumbled through the streets of Sunnydale, her naked body slick from the rain and her skin cold from the water that seemed to seep right through to her bones.  Each step brought her one memory closer to her name; her identity. 

Her mission. 

Each step brought her one moment closer to the reason she had been called back.  She knew she had to fight.  To kill.  To survive...butagainst what, she couldn't see beyond the painful shadow that covered her thoughts. 

But her concentration was on putting one foot in front of the other as she came nearer and nearer the house.   Outdated architecture that was too young to be classic dominated the incongruously bright and cheerful neighborhood.  But that displaced cheer ended at one house the seemed to sit just inside the edge of the shadows where no one in Sunnydale seemed to look.  Of course, that's why the man had lived there. 

Almost sobbing in terrified relief, the woman found herself standing on theporch banging on the door, screaming words she didn't recognize, calling by name for people she vaguely knew she should know.  But time and again, there was no answer except silence broken by the harsh staccato of the rain accompanied by occasional thunderclaps that made her tears course faster. 

Fear and desperation overwhelmed her mind, and she called upon powers and energies she had always felt but had barely been aware of.  Words and gestures came to her and were executed without any kind of thought or recognition, and the door swung open and shut as she dove into the house, her torn feet finding the stairs before the lock and even reasserted itself as thespell dissipated. 

Some instinct drove her towards the bed, where she found herself hiding in the sheets, still dripping wet and shivering in fear, barely aware of her pain or her discomfort.  All she knew is that the bed was his and that was where she belonged.  She knew she should have had a place there.  The strong delicacy of her features contorted in an _expression_ that was half smile, half yawn and she found her eyes heavy. 

Something in her knew that she was safe there.  Nothing could reach inside the walls of that house and hurt her, not as long as he lived there and not as long as the blonde girl whose face was always next to his in her mind still prowled the streets. 

Cold and exhaustion claimed the woman, dragging her into a fitful sleep.

~ * ~

"Still no word on anyone?" 

Buffy looked up to see Willow come out of the bathroom and tried not to laugh at her friend.  The blue jeans the orderly had found were slightly too big for the witch, and hung low on her hips, exposing far more of her lower midriff than Willow ever had.  The shirt was a size too small, and clung to her small frame a bit tighter than modesty generally allowed.  Barefoot, Willow made her way over to Buffy and sat down next toher friend. 

"Don't laugh.  Just tell me if there's been word." 

Buffy shook her head, tendrils of blonde hair falling into her face.  Brushing them away, the petite Slayer sighed.  "My mom is off somewhere with my aunt, and there's no way I can reach her.  Giles still isn't home, but Cordelia thinks she has an idea where he is and went to go get him.  She'll call us on her cell when they're on their way." 

Willow hugged herself and smiled slightly.  "That's good...um....Buffy....I need some advice." 

Suddenly grateful one of them had changed the subject, Buffy nodded eagerly.  "What about?"  Even as she spoke, she felt better; the return to minor matters of mundanity felt better than she thought it would have.  For a moment, she wasn't afraid one of her best friends was going to die; she wasn't feeling guilty about her sister-in-arms laying dying in another room by her hand; she wasn't about to fall apart from the inside out because the mayor had almost eaten the whole graduating class of Sunnydale High.  For a moment, she was a teenage girl. 

"It's about Oz..."  Willow took a deep breath and blinked back her tears.  "Buffy...he's never acted like that.  W-when I said I was coming here, to see Xander, he flipped...he growled at me.  Buffy, Oz growled at me!  And it's not a full moon for almost a week!" 

Buffy blinked; so much for minor matters of mundanity.  Oz growled at her.  "Why?  I thought he didn't do that unless it was his time of the month." 

Willow nodded slowly and Buffy's stomach sank to her feet.  In her mind's eye she saw Xander laying next to Faith, both of them comatose because she had made the wrong choice.  If I had only walked him home...  Buffy stared at Willow and took a deep breath. And if I make thewrong decision here it could hurt both Willow and Oz... 

"It felt like he was jealous of Xander...because I was not going to...um...help him practice.  I almost ran out of the house...underdressed...when you called I was so worried!"  It was obvious how hard Willow was fighting not to burst into a stream of nearly incoherent babble. 

Blinking in surprise, Buffy Summers realized that innocent Willow Rosenbergwas not as innocent as everyone thought...That had to suck for Oz, though...right in the middle of things, she almost runs out of the house naked to run and see about the guy she cheated on him with. 

For some reasons she couldn't pinpoint, Buffy didn't really like the idea of Willow being that intimate with Oz.  He was a great guy, sure...but... 

Okay...I admit it.  I don't have a but.  I just don't like it...and I trust my instincts.  But now is not the time to get into that....comfort, Buffy, comfort... 

"Wills...maybe Oz was just very emotionally involved with his...practice..."  It took a great deal of effort not to giggle or frown or both, but Buffy knew it would embarrass Willow even more, "...and the timing was really bad, and some deeper wolfy instincts took over." 

Shaking her head, Willow hid her face behind her curtain of red hair, her green eyes staring at stain on the cracked linoleum that could have been blood or dried bubble gum.  "I don't know...I don't think so.  He didn't want me to go...and he left, really really mad when I got my resolve face and told him I had to go..."  Willow broke down and the babble poured forth, "Xander's been my best friend forever, I've knownhim my whole life and I can't just not come see him after that bastard shot him and killed his mother.  I feel so bad because I always wanted toknow her better but now she's dead and Xander's dying and no one cares butus and I don't want him to die and damn it, I wish Oz understood that I need him as much as I need Xander!" 

Buffy forestalled another babble-attack with a hug, drawing Willow close, feeling her friend shiver.  Buffy tightened her arms around her friend,trying to share a bit of her body heat.  "Willow...we're all stressed.  Not six hours ago, we blew up our school and watched a lot of our classmates die.  People we might have considered friends if they had ever spoken to us...and if we weren't hiding Sunnydale's big secret behind the closed doors of the library..when...you know how times I was glad noone at Sunnydale High ever checked out books?"  Shrugging, Buffypulled Willow over to rest on her shoulder.  Somehow, her arm had found it's way around Willow's waist; her skin was still cold and clammy from the rain.  "Wills, Oz is probably over tired and over stressed...and Xander will make it.  Just like I have and you have when we've been hurt.  This is just worse for us because he was shot by a human...I can't go slay him and you can't go turn him into something very nasty and squishable." 

"This time, we just have to deal." 

Willow sat up and met Buffy's eyes.  "The hell we do. We never 'just deal'.  When Giles and Cordy get here, Giles we be all 'British authority figure' and Cordy will just yell really loud until someone tells ussomething.  And if they don't then I start crying and you start breaking things..."  Tears started falling again as the shy redhead thought about her life-long friend being operated on as they spoke. 

"Willow...calm down.  They'll tell us soon enough...there's a phone over there.  Why don't you go call Oz?" 

Nodding mutely, Willow trudged over to the courtesy phone, trying to smile back when the receptionist gave her a reassuring smile and a pat on the arm.  Numbly, she dialed Oz's number, and listened to the phone ring. 

Buffy sat back in her chair and curled her legs up under her, sinking into her worries about Xander and now about Willow.

~ * ~

The quiet hum of the plane's twin engines drowned out most any other sounds.  Rain droplets smeared across the windows like bugs on a windshield,leaving streaks of cold water.  Giles knew the Watcher's Council jet could weather the storm, even at the low altitude needed to avoid radar detection.  After taking a moment to make sure Wesley was asleep, he turned his attention to the sullen young woman in the seat next to him.  He took a long swallow of his gin, relishing the burn as the alcohol slid down his throat -- it was never a good idea to argue with a woman you had just unwittingly abducted without something to take the edge of the well deserved lecture that was sure to follow. 

"How did you know where we were?" 

Cordelia turned to regard the former librarian with smoldering eyes as sharp as heated steel.  "I'm not as stupid as I look.  It was easy to figure out.  Buffy made the Council mad when she told them whereto shove it, and if I were them, I'd send someone to take her in hand.  And there's only one airstrip in town you can sneak in and out of. And since I knew Wesley had to go back, I wondered about you.  That, and my female intuition told me right were to find you both." 

She sat there silent for a long moment, apparently making a valiant effort to stay her tongue. 

"Cordelia, of all the things I have found you to be, stupid was never one of them.  I have to admit, I am impressed." 

Flattery usually had a very soothing effect on Cordelia Chase; this time, it just made her bolder. 

"Why don't you tell me what's going on, Ripper, before I wake Wesley and make him tell me."  The slow, predatory smile that slidacross her face made Giles want to sight, but he refused to indulge himself and give her the satisfaction.  "And I can get him to tell me..." 

Leaning back in his seat, Giles closed his eyes.  "The Watcher's Council did not accept Buffy's resignation.  Instead, they drafted both myself and Wesley back into their service and extradited us to England sothat we would not interfere in the re-training of the Slayers.  You arrived at the least opportune moment, and are now on your way to becoming acitizen of Great Britain and an apprentice Watcher." 

A thousand responses flooded Cordelia's brain, but she dismissed them all in favor of the more obvious questions.  "So when do we go back?" 

Giles shrugged.  "We don't." 

Cordy sputtered, and grabbed Giles drink out of his hand, draining the remaining gin one swallow.  "What?" 

In the dim lights of the plane, the Watcher wasn't sure if he saw tears in her eyes or not.  I can understand tears.  I've just helped abduct her away from her family and friends, one of which may be dead by now. 

Forcing himself to meet her eyes, Ripper shrugged.  "We are goingto England and most likely will not be coming back.  If all goes according to plan, none of us will ever speak to either of the Slayers or any member of the Scooby gang." 

Her mouth hardened into a thin line.  "And what's your plan?" 

Giles felt a small warmth in his stomach at her confidence in him, and no small amount of pride that her confidence was well founded.  "Cordelia, I assure that this is a temporary situation.  The Council does not understand who they have abducted.   After the Master, Angelusand the Mayor and all of their assorted henchmen and hirelings, the Watcher's Council is nothing more than a minor problem." 

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Rupert.  Your confidence in us isreassuring."  The cultured tone did little to hide the sarcasm in Quentin Travers voice.  The large man strode into the lounge of the airplane and poured himself a glass of bourbon from the wet bar.  "Although something tells me your arrogance is a little misplaced, my old friend." 

Rupert Giles said nothing, leveling a glare at the groggy Wesley, silently warning him not to speak. 

"And what was that little stunt back there, threatening Mr. St. Clair?  Andrew is a more than competent young man who will have your rebellious Slayer firmly in hand quickly." 

Cordelia rolled  her eyes at the rotund gentleman, sighing.  "What is it with you people?  Don't you ever wear anything besides tweed?" 

Travers turned his scornful eyes to the teenager and huffed like a beached whale.  "Miss Chase, as your education with the Watcher's Councilcontinues, you will learn to appreciate the elegant fashions of  traditional professionalism." 

She snorted derisively.  "Not hardly." 

Quentin took a sip of his bourbon and wedged himself into a chair facing the three, but turned his attentions to Wesley.  "Mr. Windham-Pryce, the Council had a higher expectation of you than to lose one Slayer to the other side and have another refuse Council orders.  But you at leasthad the sense to inform us of what was going on, which is more than I can say for you Rupert." 

"Stop talking, you ancient fashion impaired windbag."  Cordelia muttered under her breath.  Travers glared at her but said nothing. 

"Quentin,"  Giles spoke slowly and softly.  "What do you want?" 

The Councilor shrugged his wide shoulders, and smiled coldly.  "Wesley Windham-Pryce is to be assigned to a Slayer-in-Training and you, Rupert Giles are to be taken into custody.  Miss Chase may choose to accompany you, or she may begin her official instruction with the Council."

~ * ~

The mayor watched his thunderstorm dwindle to a slow drizzle, and he smiled.  Shuffling footsteps approached him from behind, a moaning wail making his bones ache.   It was a truly beautiful sound.  He felt her arms wrap around his waist, and heard the whisper of the silk nightgown she wore rustle against the fabric of his Italian suit.  Her body sucked the warmth from his, making his skin prickle with goose bumps. 

"Good evening, my dear.  What delightful evil plays in your delicious dreams tonight?"  His voice was a gentle whisper as his hands stroked hers. 

The stars are singing to me tonight..." Dru whispered in a laughing purr, nuzzling her cold cheek into the mayor's warm neck. Her tongue gently lapped at his pulse-point. "Mmmm...I bet you taste good..." 

The mayor gasped, his hand raking through her hair. "Now that wasn't very nice, Drusilla." 

"I'm not a nice person..." She murmured, her lilting English accent drawing music in the air. "And the stars are singing....and I want them to sing...I want them to scream...and the sky cry blood on my face...." 

Breathless, she moaned and rubbed against him, her nails playing with the buttons on his shirt. 

"What do they say, my lady?" Wilkins whispered harshly, his fingernails digging into her arm. The vampiress laughed, squirming against him like a sensual child begging for something she didn't understand. 

"They sing of blood bleeding...tasting ashes...they say that daddy is back and wants to play fun little games with the Slayer; they scream that the Slayer's heart bleeds on black shoals..." she breathe deep, suckingin air in an almost fevered gasp. "Ohhhhh....she wants him...and he taunts her...teases her...and leaves her begging him for more and she doesn't even know it....the stars weep for the boy...they know he's alone...and the eyes in the darkness have come back to take the Slayer away..." 

Laughing, the mayor swept her around in front of him, staring into her darkeyes.  "What else do the stars crave?" 

He needed to know; just hours before, he had been on the brink of Ascension.  Of triumph over all those things that he knew were his to claim, because he was the strongest, the smartest.  Because he had the most powerful.  And all of it had been lost because he had missed one, small clue. 

It had been a very bad day. 

Human emotion.  It still plagued him, ate at him.  A hollow placeinside him where Faith used to be.  Now, she was lying, dying in Sunnydale general while that blonde bitch of Slayer walked free. 

Not this time, Slayer.  Not this time. 

Giggling, she leaned up to lick his ear like a playful kitten.  "They crave chaos...the desire action...intimacy and pain...they want love to blossom and wither and die and they want to taste that death like a sweetwine..." 

Sing song, she murmured a humming moan, her lips caressing his neck, as if daring herself to taste of him. 

"Good.  Then I did the spell right."  Stepping away, the Demon Lord shoved the vampiress away, ordering over her shoulder, "Spike, please take her back to your rooms and give her something to eat.  There should be something from Willy's in a thermos." 

The peroxide blonde vampire shrugged, his leather duster crinkling.  "Sure thing." 

Shaking his head at the accent, Wilkins smiled to himself.  This had been a very good night after all.

---

Chapter Four: Waiting 

Willow hung up the phone with a feeling of at least some relief.  Evenif she hadn't been able to reach Oz, she had been able to reach someone, which was better than Buffy had done.  She turned to Buffy.  "I called my parents.  They're on their way." 

Breathing out her own sigh of relief, Buffy nodded.  "I'm glad wecan call them this time...I'm glad it's not supernatural...but..." 

Sinking down next to her friend, the redheaded witch nodded slowly as she rested her head on Buffy's shoulder.  "I know.  Have we heardfrom Cordy, Giles or Wesley?" 

Squirming in her seat to scoot closer to Willow, the blonde Slayer shook her head.  "No...I am now officially worried.  It's not like Giles to just disappear and not call like this...I know we blew up his job today, but I'd at least expect him to let us know he's going to go mope!" 

The radio station filtered through the waiting room changed songs, and the opening riffs of "Outside" by Fred Durst poured into the room, making Buffy feel like she floating through the plot of a cheap made-for-tv movie. 

"...i'm on the outside, i'm lookin'  in 
I can see through you, see your true colors 
inside you're ugly, ugly like me 
I can see through you, see to the real you..." 

The lyrics ran through her, the words reminding her what she was; what all of them were.  They were outside, looking in at the world through a pane of unbreakable glass.  They could never be part of the 'normal' world because none of them were normal anymore.  They had all chosen a different path; they had all chosen to fight a war against evil.  Not evil in the sense of 'bad guys' and 'good guys' but evil in the sense of soulless creatures with instincts and passions that drove them to destroy the human race and return Earth to a state of hell-bound chaos.  She, BuffySummers, the Slayer was supposed to lead that war -- beside her were her friends, the Scooby Gang, they called themselves.  With them, she had saved the world.  They had saved each other, and each night, they made it possible for one more 'normal' person who had no idea what went bump in the night to walk home safely. 

Buffy shivered.  Maybe she was just feeling vulnerable because Xander had been hurt by an enemy all of her Slayer powers had no defense against, or maybe it was because she hadn't heard from Giles since they had left theschool or from Cordelia since she had sent her to find Giles, but her stomach twisted with the unwavering certainty that something serious was very wrong. 

The feeling had been there all night, but now it was stronger than it had been since she had first looked into the eyes of Faith the moment after the dark slayer had killed the deputy mayor. 

The only thing that felt right was having Willow beside her. 

"Willow...."  She murmured. 

Looking up from her own brooding thoughts, she met the Slayer's hazel eyes with her own green ones.  "Buffy, what's wrong?" 

Shaking her head and brushing aside her mane of yellow hair, Buffy shrugged.  "I don't know.  I really don't.  But something isn'tright.  Maybe it's leftover from Graduation...I mean, it's not six hours ago that we faced and killed a demon.  We fought vampires in the middle of the afternoon and tonight has been kinda emotional.  Xander got shot and Angel almost died, then nearly killed me, left me, then came back.  Maybe I'm just imagining things, or maybe it's a lot of things...but something doesn't feel right." 

Willow shrugged, her auburn hair falling around her shoulders.  She winced at the motion in the overly tight shirt.  "Or maybe you're the Slayer and something isn't right."  She looked a Buffy calmly.  "Every time you get a 'feeling' it's been right.  I trust those instincts, and so should you, Buffy Summers!  And I'm worried too...my best friend might be dead.  Oz might leave me.  And Giles might be in trouble..." 

Sucking in air, Buffy brought herself out of her thoughts.  "Yeah...I just wish there weren't suddenly so many maybes."

~ * ~

At least she waited until Quentin left.  Oddly enough, Giles found his thought gave him very little reassurance.  Resisting the urge to sigh again, the Watcher leaned back in his seat and pondered the wisdom of another glass of gin. 

"You will not let them dress me in tweed and make me a Watcher!  I could have been Wesley's apprentice, but no!  You had to get all hormonal and territorial and growl that I was yours!  Now I can be in prison or a fashion victim from the twenties who spends more time in the library than Willow or gets to baby-sit junior Buffy wannabes!" 

Wesley had long since made the journey from the lounge into the cockpit, ostensibly to talk to Quentin about his upcoming assignment, leaving Giles todeal with the panicked and hysterical Cordelia.  He had always considered himself a patient man, able to deal with almost any crisis calmly and with dignity.  But this time, it was all he could do to keep himself from shaking the girl silly. 

Not that it would do any good. 

"Cordelia." 

Cordelia apparently didn't hear, didn't care or just wasn't paying attention.  She continued railing and screaming at him, valiantly trying to keep the tears from spilling over. 

"Cordelia!" 

Pacing, she  was tugging at her clothes.  "And how could youlet me get dragged onto a first-class private flight dressed like THIS!  How could you just leave Xander, dying in a hospital bed?  I thought you liked him at least enough to find out how he's doing!  I may have dumped the looser for cheating on me, but I still don't want him dead!  And as long as I have this 'gotta help save the world' thing going on,I might have to work with him, and even Xander Harris would get offended if I didn't visit him at least once after that fucking bastard shot him and killed his mother who was a really nice woman despite that fact that she ignored him unless she needed him to do something...." 

And Giles had thought only Willow could babble that long without taking a breath. 

"CORDELIA!" 

Blinking through her tears, the teenager looked over at Giles meekly, pretending she wasn't embarrassed.  "Yeah?" 

Taking a calming breath, Giles nodded to her.  "Thank you.  Yes, I did not let you be mistaken for Wesley's apprentice, but not for thereasons you think.  As I informed you earlier, this is a temporary situation.  Yes, we will be taken into custody, but that will not last very long at all.  I was not affiliated with the Watcher's Council for my entire lifetime without forging at least a few alliances." 

Cordelia sat back down, her eyes regaining some of their familiar mischievous sparkle.  "You mean, you're going to play politics?" 

Giles grimaced and poured himself another glass of gin, and then another for Cordelia.  He needed the girl to understand that he was placing her in the role of an adult and he was going to give her the respect of one.  For some reason, teenagers felt they had that respect when an adult gave them alcohol.  I will never understand the culture of their generation, but I think I am coming to accept it. 

Wordlessly, Cordelia took the glass from Giles and sipped at it, waiting for him to answer rather shrewdly pointed question. 

"I am going to try the best I can, but I fear I do not do well with such things..." 

Setting her glass down, Cordelia smiled brightly.  Giles couldn't helpbut notice the feral edge to it.  "But I do.  Politics of snooty rich people I get." 

Blinking, Giles sat down heavily.  She does at that, doesn't she? 

"Do you think you can help me?" 

She shook her head.  "Not at first, no.  I don't know enoughabout the people or what's going on.  Give me a week or two, then maybe.  But I might be able to help you figure out what's going on and how to use it, if you're willing to candidly and without hiding any of the graphic details, tell me who the major players are and everything about them." 

Giles gave an embarrassed cough.  "I don't know any of that, I'm afraid..." 

"I do."  Wesley said, sitting across from them.  "But you might want to take notes...."

~ * ~

Sheila and Ira Rosenberg had long considered themselves very self aware andpractical people.  Both had become aware since Willow's sophomore year that they barely knew their daughter and were often gone more often than they were at home.  But they also knew, with some pride and some guilt, that their daughter was a wonderful woman with supportive friends, XanderHarris first and foremost amongst them. 

They had often taken care of Xander when both he and Willow were younger; in some ways, they had raised the young man.  They had known that his home life had been anything but good -- however, they had never imagined Michael Harris would have ever been capable of what their daughter claimed he had done. 

Ignoring and not knowing your child was one thing; shooting them was another.  But both ignored the unspoken question of which hurt the child more. 

All of their doubts to his guilt were erased when the strode into the emergency room lobby of Sunnydale General Hospital and saw their daughter and Buffy Summers sitting side-by-side in mutual morose depression. 

Ira walked over to the nurse's station, his quiet authority overwhelming the nurse.  She handed him Xander's paperwork without argument and watched him scan over it with a critical eye.  He passed over his insurancecard, followed by his credit card, silently letting her know, one way or the other, Xander would get whatever care he needed. 

Sheila said nothing as she sat between the two girls, her long unused motherly instinct telling her that they both needed her right then.  Her green eyes matched Willow's, tear for tear as she held her daughter and her daughter's friend to her, all of them crying for their hurt friend. 

Buffy was able to relax, just enough to know that Xander was well cared forbut Willow had not been close to her parents for a long time and felt almost uncomfortable accepting her mother's support. 

Ira Rosenberg walked back over at sat down across from them, watching coldly as a police officer strode confidently in, looking for the two girls.  His stern gaze slowed the young man down as he approached the three women. 

What does he want?  None of us saw the shooting; we're only cleaning up Mike Harris' mess, the same as we have since Xander was five.  Except this time, I won't let his son go back home. 

"I'm looking for Willow Rosenberg." 

Ira stood and faced the officer with an unwavering gaze.  "That'smy daughter.  What can we help you with officer?" 

I hate this town.  I hate this state.  I hate all of this.  Every time I leave, one of these kids gets hurt.  Badly.  First it was my Willow, in the hospital with a concussion because those punks broke into the library and killed that girl -- that was the time another of these idiot officers accused Buffy of murder.  He snorted mentally, knowing how foolish that idea was.  Buffy Summers was a trained martial artist; he had seen her practice when she had spent the night athis house and although her home life wasn't always stable, he knew she wastoo compassionate and too disciplined to do that to his daughter, or one of their friends. 

The next time was Cordelia.  Willow and Xander and her always fought, but deep down they were always friends, in a twisted teenage sort of way.  They grew up together, after all.  Stabbed through the stomachby an iron bar -- and the Chase's didn't even care about Cordelia, just the money.  And it was the same gang, I think, as the first time.  At least that time, none of Willow's group had been accused. 

Now Xander is shot and Alexandra is dead.  He felt his throat close up and tear well up in his eyes.  But he would save his tears forlater, in the privacy of his office, where he had cried for his daughter and her friends so many times.  And this time there's no gang I can blame it on.  Only the blind stupidity of one man. 

A cold thought struck the aging scholar.  A blind stupidity I am very close to committing myself, by leaving my daughter and her friends to this on their own.  No more.  He had seen his daughter's discomfort with her own mother's touch. 

"Officer?"  Ira asked again, his eyes dragging the man's gaze away from the tableau of the three women. 

"We need to take her down to the station so she can assist us in identifying a murder suspect." 

Ira's eyes narrowed slowly.  "Now why would she need to do that, officer?" 

"Daniel Osbourne has been reported missing.  He has been implicated in a serious felony.  Miss Rosenberg was the last person to have seen him." 

Ira heard his daughter give a choked sob and stand up.  "What?"