Chapter Text

Prologue

December 1998

Standing there watching the duo kiss was like a knife digging deep into her heart, slowly ripping it into tiny pieces. It didn't take him long to move on, now did it? He'd only been back for three months. The Scooby Gang had almost completely forgiven him for all of Angelus's wrongdoings.

Buffy stared as Angel—her first and only love—and the new Slayer, Faith, if she recalled correctly, played tonsil hockey like breathing was going out of style. This certainly wasn't a first-time kiss; they were too comfortable with each other's bodies for that. Yet there was also an awkwardness to it that made it clear they hadn't been intimate. Although it would only be a matter of time.

When she'd heard of Angel's miraculous return from Hell, she could hardly contain her joy. She'd dropped everything she was doing in her new city, San Francisco. Why did she leave her new home? Why did she have to care about him? Because she'd sent him to Hell, that's why. She hated herself every second of every day for it. How could Angel not hate her too?

By the time she'd arrived back in Sunnydale, it was nightfall—the most frightening hours anywhere, but for her it was home. The daylight seemed scarier. Maybe she really was a freak. What kind of person craved the protective darkness the night gave? The two figures moved, snapping her out of her inner struggle.

Her mother was the one who'd informed her of Angel's sudden return. Around the beginning of October, her mother had tracked her down. Buffy had recently moved to San Francisco from Los Angeles. Her mother found the apartment she was renting. With her dad's support checks, she'd had enough money to move into her own place—a secret, or not-so-secret, desire of hers for years.

They'd yelled, screamed, blamed each other for things that couldn't possibly be their fault. Finally, tired and throats sore, they'd hugged, cried, and begged for forgiveness.

After explaining about Angel—only recently finding out herself—her mom had told Buffy about the new Slayer. But she hadn't mentioned word one about a relationship between the two. It was possible her mother didn't know about them. Her greatest flaw was not seeing what happened around her.

As Buffy wandered through her former town, she'd seen Angel strolling next to a curvy brunette. Coming upon them walking hadn't raised her red flags. In fact, she'd been a split second from running and hugging her former lover for all she was worth, but a simple gesture had given her pause. Angel had sent a glance Faith's way. Okay, not much of a reason, but she'd seen that expression before—a sweet fascination. The same look he'd given her in the beginning.

To be sure, she'd hung back, following at a safe distance where she could keep a close, watchful eye on them while keeping the odds of being caught to a minimum. That's when her heart had shattered. Angel had leaned down and pressed a kiss to the dark-haired Slayer's lips.

The only thought that crossed her mind was that she should never have left San Francisco. There, she had friends who didn't judge her at every turn. They knew what she went through battling demons on a daily and nightly basis. There was even a man attracted to her. He'd seen her at the high school while waiting to pick up a client. He hadn't tried anything, but she had the feeling he was waiting until she was legal.

Buffy took one last look at the couple making their way toward the looming mansion and turned to leave. She'd go check on her mother—she wanted to see her again. After that, though, she'd never come back to this town. That, she vowed.

Chapter 1

March 16, 2008

Sunnydale

"What do you mean I won't be able to handle this on my own?" Faith demanded, beginning to pace around the Summers home, where they'd conducted their Scooby meetings for years.

Giles eased his glasses off to clean them. "You aren't strong enough to handle this, Faith. I'm sorry, but you're just not. I know you've been a Slayer for ten years—longer than almost any other Slayer—but according to the Watcher's Council, you are not nearly strong enough to handle this threat. You're going to need help."

"Fine. I'll have you guys to back me up like always." Since coming to Sunnydale, her life and calling had been a huge roller coaster of ups and downs. Lately, it had been on a real downward slope, and it didn't look like it would be going up again anytime soon.

Not only had she been within a hair's breadth of dying three times in the past year, but Angel had refused to sleep with her for over four months and didn't look close to breaking. While not a major deal in the grand scheme of things, it had been the start of this downward spiral.

She and Angel had never officially dated. Neither wanted that label attached to whatever relationship they'd formed. Sometimes they were partners, other times friends, and occasionally lovers. Both had itches that needed scratching and had been more than willing to help each other out. But now he avoided her advances like the plague.

"Yes, we will be there," Giles said carefully, "but the Council specifically said you need..." He didn't want to say this, but what choice did he have? Either tell them or let the world go to hell. There wasn't exactly a choice. "The Council said we need Buffy in order to win this fight."

Silence greeted the Watcher. Angel's expression was one of careful blankness—he didn't want anyone to know what he was thinking—but it was obvious to anyone who looked that he still loved Buffy. Willow and Xander were in utter shock. Anya and Tara, who had never met the other Slayer, wore looks of worry for their significant others.

"The other Slayer?" Faith asked. "Why would we need her here? And how do they even know she's still alive?"

"They say she is, but they won't tell me where." Giles noticed Joyce getting antsy about this conversation. "I'm sorry, Joyce, if this line of discussion is disturbing you, but we must talk about this."

Buffy's mother nodded but didn't say a word, so Giles continued. "According to the Council, Buffy has reached a higher plane, if you will. She's accessed the magical attributes of being a Slayer. Not to mention, she's now in league with the Charmed Ones—powerful witches who stem from the Warren line and protect innocents."

Xander couldn't contain his anger any longer. "If she's all powerful now and working with even more powerful witches, why didn't she come back and help us? She could have come to help while Faith was fighting Glory. Or at least let us know she was alive and wasn't just whoring around." The boy who had yet to grow up didn't give a thought to Joyce being in the room.

Joyce whipped her gaze toward the jealous young man. He still hadn't grown up, though she didn't know why she was surprised. Instead of chastising Xander or demanding he leave her house, she decided to ask Mr. Giles—she still couldn't call him Rupert—what had been plaguing her since the topic of Buffy had arisen. "Rupert, what would happen if Buffy wasn't involved in this fight? What would happen to the world, I mean?"

Giles took a deep breath. "The world would become Hell. Demons would overrun every continent. Humans would die in droves, and the humans who were left alive would become slaves." It was not a fate he wished upon the world.

"Boy, you sure don't sugar-coat anything, do you?" Xander spoke up again from his spot on the couch.

Joyce sighed. She had to tell them. "I know where Buffy is." The group fell into stunned silence for the second time in five minutes. She hoped Buffy would forgive her for revealing the secret, but if the world was to be saved, she had to do it.

Everyone stared at Joyce. "You've known where she's been this whole time? Why didn't you ever tell us?" Giles shot out of the chair he'd been sitting in.

"Because my daughter didn't want any of you to know. I wasn't going to let her down—not again. Faith was already here, so it wasn't as if you needed another Slayer. Buffy was needed elsewhere. She's happy now. I've never seen her so happy." How could she take that away from her daughter? Simple: she couldn't.

"Where is she, Joyce?" Angel asked, not noticing his sometimes-lover's frown of jealousy. He still loved Buffy—always would. While yes, he cared for Faith, he only went to her because she was there and Buffy wasn't. "Why didn't you at least tell me? She's the..." He didn't want to finish in front of the group, but the statement was implied.

"You want to know why?" Joyce stood, coming as close as she could to being nose-to-nose with Angel. "When I told her you had come back from Hell, she dropped everything in San Francisco. She had friends who didn't judge her at every turn. She was going to school. She had a nice man interested in her. She was starting over. What does she do? She comes back to Sunnydale with just the clothes on her back."

Joyce's voice grew sharper. "Do you know what she found on that warm December night? You and Faith kissing in the cemetery, on your way back to the mansion. So she turned around, came to visit me, said if you were happy then she wasn't going to come back and ruin it for you, and went back home. She's never been back to Sunnydale since. Now she has children, a great, rewarding job, a husband, and friends who understand everything she's going through. So why the hell would I tell you or anybody anything when you made her life miserable?"

The irate mother began to make her way to the kitchen, but Giles's voice stopped her.

"Please, Joyce. We need that address. Where in San Francisco is she?" Maybe if he pleaded, she'd soften and give them the information they desperately needed.

"I'm coming too. I need to pack, then I will take whoever wants to come to her home." Joyce changed direction and headed upstairs to pack for a few days in San Francisco.

Downstairs, everyone looked at each other—some with anger, others with confusion, and still others with knowledge. Giles was particularly interested in the looks of knowledge. Someone besides Joyce Summers knew about Buffy's whereabouts.

"Willow? Anya? You know something, don't you?"

The witch stared down at her clenched hands. She was hoping Giles wouldn't have noticed her lack of surprise at Buffy's location. Granted, she didn't know exactly where the wayward Slayer was hiding, but she knew she was alive.

"Um, do you remember when Spike came to town about three years ago?" The group nodded. "Well, Spike mentioned Buffy. He basically said he was surprised we hadn't found her yet. Said it wasn't like she was on the other side of the world."

"Anya? What about you?" Xander gazed at his wife.

"I've always known where the Slayer was. Or at least I did when I was a vengeance demon. It's required—knowing where the forces of good are hiding. I knew where she was before I got changed into a human, but from what I heard, she moved, so I don't know where she is now."

"Why didn't you tell us before?" Angel growled.

Not a bit scared of his anger, she told the vampire point-blank with only a tiny shrug. "Nobody asked."