Copyright: Feb. 10, 2000
Distribution: My site, and if you want it, just ask!
Summary: Takes place about 5 years after "IWRU". Buffy left Sunnydale a few months after the episode took place, and she built a life for herself and her daugher. All her old friends believe that she is dead, until she is called to Los Angeles on business and her daughter is kidnapped, forcing her to go to Angel for help.
Disclaimer: Buffy, Angel and all related characters do not belong to me. Neither do the Charmed Ones. Erinne, and anything you don't recognize, belong to me as products of my crazy mind.
Spoilers: Pangs, I Will Remember You, and slight ones for New Man
Feedback: Please? I'll beg for it!
Note: I'm a huge B/A fan! Riley and Kate need to die horrible deaths by way of SPORKS! Hehe...

"Pru?" the soft voice asked at the door to Pru Halliwell's office.

The dark haired woman looked up from some documents on her desk, her face breaking into a smile as she recognized the speaker. "Buffy! What are you doing here...we didn't call you did we?"

Buffy Summers, Slayer, shook her head and stepped more fully into the office, the heels of her boots clicking on the wood floor. "Nah. This is more of a social call than one of business." Smiling, Buffy sank into one of the chairs facing Pru, giving a contented sigh as she sat back in the chair. "Its good to get a chance to sit...I don't have much time for that anymore."

Pru laughed, and opened her mouth to speak just as the phone rang shrilly on her desk. Throwing an apologetic look at her friend, she picked the phone up. "This shouldn't be long."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, just sit and relax....Pru Halliwell."

Nodding, Buffy leaned into the back of the chair, looking around Pru's office. Even though she'd been there multiple times in the almost 5 years they'd known each other, there was always something new to look at. Buffy sighed again, this one heavy with memories. It was almost 5 years since she'd left Sunnydale.

She'd left about a month after her 19th birthday. She hadn't been able to stay any longer, no matter what the others tried to tell her. Willow, Xander, Giles, and Riley. None of them, try as they might, had changed her mind. They had all been very surprised when she'd gathered them at Giles's to inform them that she was dropping out of college and moving to parts unknown and untold. Willow had tried to guilt her, Xander had just yelled at her, Riley had smothered her in declarations of love, and Giles had thrown the Slayer card.

Little did they know that she'd been visiting Faith at the hospital, just about everyday. Just before Christmas, she'd come out of the coma, and Buffy had been helping her get back in shape. She hadn't known she'd been leaving when she'd started helping her kin-sister, but something inside her had told her it was right. Faith was more subdued now, repentant, and was looking at life in a whole new way. The others, well, hadn't taken to the idea, but she was the only choice.

So with everything settled, she'd packed a few of her bags and had loaded up the Durango her father had sent to her for Christmas, just before he'd been killed in a car crash. His death had been somewhat bittersweet, having not seen him in almost a year, but his inheritance had been the factor telling her that she would be able to leave, without having to live in a dingy room. She'd gone to San Francisco, knowing that she could go home if desperately needed, but that it would probably not happen.

That was five years ago. With the money her father had left her, she'd found a modest Victorian style house, and had set up house, and shop. Using her battle knowledge and street skills, she gave self-defense lessons at a local dojo, and did some free-lance appraisal on weaponry. The appraising had brought her to Pru, who had come into possession of a demon's hand-ax. The two, and Pru's sisters, Phoebe and Piper, had then found out about the other's 'secret' life, and they'd been friends ever since.

"Buff? You all right?"

"Huh? Oh sorry. I was just thinking."

"You zoned. I've been off the phone for at least 2 minutes. Now what kind of social call is this? Weren't you coming over later for dinner?"

"Yea, well, that's sort of the reason I'm here. I'm going to have to cancel. I got a call this morning from a contact in L.A. One of the big auction houses down there just got a shipment in of weaponry, and I was suggested for the job. I'm leaving tonight."

Pru gave her a puzzled look. "They're that anxious to get you down there that you have to go tonight? What's going on?"

Buffy sighed. "I've also gotten word of some weird going ons. I want to check it out."

"Buffy, you were officially retired as Slayer three years ago. Your twenty-first birthday, remember? Why do you keep doing it? You're not obligated anymore...another Slayer was activated...you have a normal life, a good job, a..."

"I can't help it. It's in my blood I guess. Anyway, I don't do any big end-of-the-world-things anymore. I don't want to take that chance." Buffy shrugged offhandedly. "So I wanted to tell you that I wouldn't be able to make it, and to ask if..."

"We'd watch Erinne for you?" interrupted Pru. Buffy nodded. "Sure. We love having her over. Bring her to the house before you leave."

"Thanks Pru. I owe you," replied Buffy, standing up. "I'd better go. I need to pack my stuff and Erinne's. We'll see you around 6?"

Pru nodded. "Um, Buffy, I hate to bring this up, but, doesn't Erinne's father live in L.A. ?"

Buffy stilled, her hand on the doorknob. Defeated, she leaned her head against the door. Why had she ever broken down that night and told the sisters the full story? "As far as I know. He might have moved on by now. I didn't hear from him after that incident...and then, well I left with no forwarding address."

"Are you going to see him?" Pru's voice was kind, gentle. "He deserves to know Buffy."

"I know. I know he does. As for seeing him. I honestly don't know. I'll see you tonight Pru."

With that, Buffy exited the office, almost on auto-pilot, till she reached the quiet solitarity of her car, where the tears began to pour. Even after almost 6 years, the thought of Angel still had the ability to hurt her. It didn't help any that when she'd come home from seeing him that Thanksgiving that she'd been plagued by reoccurring dreams of Angel being human. They'd gone on for nearly 3 months. The dreams had stopped completely when she'd found out that she was pregnant. When faced with the tiny pink plus sign, the knowledge that the day had truly happened had become to clear to her. She'd lived that one day with Angel. Had it taken away in another one of his attempts to decide how he thought her life should be. And had been given his child.

The child within her had been the spark that had made her leave. Although she had been thinking about it for months, it had been her final reason. Tired of playing the game that her life was perfect, tired of putting on a happy face every time she was near her friends, tired of pretending that Riley was the perfect guy for her. She wanted her child to have a safe, happy life, away from the hellmouth. So she left, not telling anyone of the child growing inside her. The only one who knew was Faith, who had sworn to never tell after finding her with a nasty bout of morning sickness. The two Slayers, even with everything that had transpired between them, had grown close in the few months that Buffy had been there. Close possibly, because they had more in common than first thought.

Faith had been there when Erinne had been born. She'd been the only one from Sunnydale that Buffy had kept in contact with. She'd been the only one Buffy had trusted to not spill her secret if Angel ever showed up. She didn't know why she hadn't wanted him to know...no...yes she did. If he had found out, he would have wanted to do the noble thing and come back to her. She didn't want that. It was easier to let him think she'd given up. Easier to let them all think that she had died. Her retirement at twenty-one had been told to her by way of a left winged Council member. They'd been willing to let her keep fighting without informing her of her new status, but the Watcher had taken pity on her. No one but the Council, Buffy and the Halliwell Sisters knew. Her friends all thought she was dead.

******

"Erinne Mari Summers, you're going to be a good girl for momma, right?" Buffy kneeled on the porch of the Halliwell home, bending to get to eye level with the dark-haired, dark eyed toddler. She looked so much like her father...

"Yes momma," answered the 4 year old. Though if you asked her age, she'd say 4 and three quarters. "Why can't I come wit you?"

Buffy's eyes teared, and she pulled the girl into her arms. "Oh Baby, I'd love to have you with me. I miss you so much when I'm gone. But Momma has work to do, and you'd have much more fun here with Aunt Pru and Piper and Phoebe."

"Aunt `ebe?" a wide smile spread across the girl's face.

"Yup. You wanna ring the bell for momma?" asked Buffy, standing up with Erinne nestled against her hip The girl reached over, pressing the bell repeatedly until Buffy stepped out of reach, laughing. The door swung open, revealing Pru, and two other dark haired girls. "Hey, thanks again for watching her."

"No problem," replied the girl with longer hair and bangs. Piper. "Are you sure you won't stay to eat?"

"I can't. I want to get there by ten so I can check out the city." Buffy looked down into her arms, where Erinne was bouncing excitedly, as Pru floated the suitcase for the toddler into the house. "Give momma a kiss bye-bye?"

Erinne's dark eyes closed as she puckered her lips and presented her mother with a very wet 'smack'. " Miss me?"

"Very much, baby." Pressing a kiss to the soft head, Buffy handed her daughter to Phoebe. "I shouldn't be more than 4 or 5 days. I'll call if it's going to be longer. Thanks again."

"Buffy, think about what I said this morning, all right?" asked Pru.

Solemnly, Buffy nodded. "I will. Bye. Bye Erinne!"

"Buffy, wait!" Piper rushed into sight, a small hamper in her hands in which she thrust at the lithe blonde. "Dinner for tonight and breakfast for tomorrow."

"Thanks."

*****

The night life of Los Angeles was just beginning to come to life. Angel sat on the ledge of his apartment building, watching the sky as the sunlight faded from bright pinks and purples to darker blue. This was the time of night that he loved the best. Just between the light of day and the dark of night. It was then that he felt closer to the normal world, the world of lightness that he fought to save nightly, and could never belong to. Where she belonged to. Had belonged to. They'd gotten word three years ago that a new slayer had been called, meaning that she had died. A part of him refused to believe that; the irrational part that refused to believe that the woman he loved had died. He'd thought for sure that he would have felt something if she had gone. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

No one knew what had happened. She'd been without friends when her time had come. It had come as quite a shock to find out that she had left Sunnydale without leaving word where. The others had told him that she had said she just couldn't stay anymore. That the weight of pretending was too much, too tiring. Willow had told him that she hadn't even shown any emotion when telling them, nor when leaving.

He hoped that she'd found some sort of contentment in her last years. That she'd forgiven him for leaving her. For allowing her to forget.

"Angel?" Cordelia's voice was quiet as she stepped out on the rooftop. "You up here?"

Darkness had fallen completely, and he was hidden by the shadows. "Over here Cordy. What are you doing here? I thought you and Doyle were going to that movie premiere?"

"We are," she said, and he looked at her, took in the simple dark blue shift. "We were on our way when Doyle got a vision." Cordelia held out a small scrap of paper.

"Where's Doyle?" asked Angel, taking the scrap and looking at it.

"Getting some Advil and holding off Detective Magoo."

"Cordelia."

"What? Its been almost 6 years, Angel. You'd think she'd get a clue that you're not interested."

"She's a friend Cordelia. We help each other out."

Cordelia gave a snort. "Yea right. Anyway, you want help with this one?"

"You go on to the premier. If I need help I'll beep you."

"I meant with Kate, but if want to take it that way, fine with me. You're the one that has to put up with her." Cordelia grinned at him, and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. "We'll stop in if we don't hear anything. What do you want us to tell Kate?"

"I'll be down in a minute." Angel stood, and looked down at the street below. His suspicions tickled as he surveyed a sport utility driving more slowly than normal. Curious and suspicious, he watched as it slowed to a stop across the street from the building. For a moment he thought that the driver was going to get out, but the vehicle suddenly roared down the street. "Weird," was his only comment as he turned to go and see what Kate wanted.

******

Buffy gazed across the street to the building that Angel's office and apartment was held. He was in there, somewhere, of the sun had just set, unless he'd taken the tunnels. A black limo waited by the curb. Cordelia? she mused, remembering how she'd been assisting Angel. Cordelia was a big star now though, her films breaking the box offices, an Oscar for supporting actress under her wing. For a moment she considered going in, and looked to the heavens for help.

Her breath caught as she made out a shadowy figure standing on the roof, looking down at the city below. The ends of a long jacket fluttered in the wind, and she knew it was him. Angel. He deserved to know that he had a daughter. Later, she said, gunning the engine and making her way across town to the hotel she'd be staying at.

Pulling up in front of the well lit building, the lights warm and welcoming, she grabbed her purse, jacket and the hamper as she stepped out of the car, stepping aside a a bellhop took her single suitcase and a valet waited to take the vehicle. "Park it close, I might need to leave fast."

The fair, handsome guy nodded. Only in L.A. could you find pretty-boys doing menial work. "Yes ma'am."

Shouldering her purse, she headed to the desk. An impeccably groomed woman approached her from behind the desk. "Can I help you miss?"

"I have a reservation. Anne White," supplied Buffy at the woman's waiting look. She never used her real name when traveling, a precaution left from her first years alone.

"Of course. Your room is ready for you." A key and a plastic card were handed to her. "Room 304. The restaurant is closed now, but room service is available all night. It will reopen at 6:30. I hope you have a pleasant stay."

"I'm sure, I will, thank you," murmered Buffy, moving to the elevator, the bellhop with her suitcase at her heels.

About an hour later....

Buffy stepped from the glass doors of the hotel, hands on hips as she looked around. She'd spent the hour in her room unpacking her bags and changing, and taking a few bites of the sandwich Piper had made as she'd read over the crime reports in the paper she'd picked up. She was dressed in her 'patrol wear', soft, worn black jeans, a clingy black v-neck tee, and her boots. Her blonde hair was pulled off her face in twin French braids, and she held her jacket.

"Do you want your car ma'am?" asked the same boy who'd taken it. Although he wasn't really a boy, he seemed to be about her age, just trying to make a living as he tried for his big break.

She gave him a kind smile. "I'm not sure...what's your name?"

"Jarod, ma'am."

"I'm Buffy, Jarod. Tell me, do you work most nights?" He nodded, somewhat suspicious of her questions. "Its all right Jarod, I'm not hitting on you. I just want you to do me a favor and keep my car close...my work keeps me quite busy. Now can you tell me what kind of neighborhood this is?"

"For L.A.? At night? Quieter than most parts, but it gets worse a few blocks back."

Buffy nodded, pulling her jacket on. "Thanks. I won't be needing my car right now Jarod. Have a nice night."

*****

Angel offhandedly wiped his hands on his pants, grimacing at the green slime covering them. Doyle's vision had brought him near the glitzier part of Los Angeles, and he'd exterminated a rather disgusting demon egg that was just beginning to break. From there, he'd decided to do a quick sweep of the city on his way back to the office.

Stuffing his hands in the deep pockets of his duster, he walked on, every sense alert for trouble. His thoughts turned once again to Buffy, as they had been more often these days. He had gotten somewhat better at his brooding before her death, and he had thought that the pain had lessened to a dull ache. The pain of losing her would never go away; she was the only one he had and would ever love. When they'd heard that another Slayer had been called, and that Faith, strangely enough, was still alive, his first thought was to see the sunrise for the first time in over 200 years.

A scream pierced his maudlin thoughts, and he went into action, keeping unconsciously to the shadows even as he turned down a long alley. His long steps fell short however, as he came upon what was obviously a fight; a large figure that his senses told him was a vampire, was circling a small figure whose blonde hair was the only thing visible who was standing above a sobbing heap of a girl. His senses stretched outward, trying to pick up if she was the newest Slayer, but they told him nothing. Then, in the space of an eyeblink, the vampire disintegrated, and the figure was gone. The only evidence that there had been an attack was the nearly unconscious victim holding a weak hand to her neck.

*****

Dressed in a black pantsuit, with a fashionably long jacket, and black heels, Buffy entered Connelly Auction House. Knowing that the first and second floors were showrooms and auctions rooms, she headed to the third. Stepping from the elevator, she approached the older woman sitting behind the wooden desk. "Ms. Summers to see a Mr. Rowan."

"Is he expecting you?"

"I'm here about the weaponry."

"If you'll sit and wait, I'll let him know."

A few moments later, an older, rather large gentleman appeared from down the hallway, half moon glasses perched on his nose, and suspenders holding his pants up. The image of Santa Claus popped into her head, but was quickly dismissed as he spoke, his words stiff, and she was then reminded of the man from the Watcher's Council on her 18th birthday. "Ms. Summers?"

Buffy stood, walking over to him, extending her hand for a moment, but when it was not taken, quickly withdrawn. "Mr. Rowan. I'm quite interested in seeing this shipment that you have."

"I'm afraid there must have been some mistake. I informed my assistant to contact the best weapons appraiser in the state. Many of the items are quite old and unique. I do not think you would be right for the job. We shall compensate you for your travel, but you services will not be needed."

As much as she wanted to, Buffy withheld the comments on the tip of her tongue. She was used to the criticism. Afterall, she was only 24, and a woman, who didn't even hold a college degree. "I can assure you, sir, that your assistant was not incorrect in contacting me. I have been known to identify a few items that even the best on the West Coast were unable to. So, if you will show me to the shipment, I'd like to do the job I came here for."

She continued as the man opened his mouth to speak again. "In fact, I believe that you have some sort of auction in just 2 days time of another weapons collection? Test me if you wish, I won't get one wrong. If I'm wrong, I'll leave, at no cost to you. If I'm right, you'll have this collection to add into your collection going on the block."

*****

"Angel, man, are you feelin' all right?" Doyle's accented voice was worried as he entered Angel's dark office.

The souled vampire looked up at his friend, quickly placing the picture frame he was looking at face down. "Is something wrong?"

The half demon shook his head slightly, tilting it to study the brooding man in front of him. What were you thinking about?" Doyle snatched the frame up before Angel could move it away. He was silent as he took in the smiling face, hazel eyes, the blonde hair. "Thinking about her as usual? What's wrong man? You haven't been this broody for a while."

"I thought I saw her the other night. Staked a vamp in an alley. Was gone before I had a chance to get closer." Angel shook his head, as if to clear it. "Then I thought I saw her again earlier tonight."

"Angel, man, I know you..."

"I know she's gone Doyle. Its just I thought that I'd feel it if she were." The Irishman was silent for a moment before throwing a morning newspaper on the desk. Angel glanced at it then back at his friend. "What's this?"

"There's some auction going on at Connelly's this afternoon. Collector's swords and guns, that sort of thing. `Cept take a look at the picture next to the article." A finger pressed down on the black and white photo as Angel glanced back down at the paper. "Dagger of Illyia."

"I thought it was lost."

"So did we all. But there it is, going up on auction today. If that dagger falls into the wrong hands..."

"Is Cordy free? We might need the extra money," asked Angel, standing, and heading to his basement apartment.

*****

Buffy neared the doors of the room, senses tingling, alerting her to the numerous numbers of baddies in the room. Pausing beside one of the side doors, she quickly wrapped the blue and white scarf slung under the labels of her navy suit around her hair and neck. Stepping quietly into the wooden paneled room where auction was already in progress, she moved to a small space against the wall, arms crossing under her chest.

The room was packed. Most of the occupants were in black, all carrying large coats. Scattered throughout the room were impeccably dressed men and women, their clothing screaming 'money'. The bidding was going quite high an a tenth century Etruscan scabbard she'd appraised, and she nodded her approval at the final bid. As there was a short pause as the buyer's number was taken and the next item was brought in, she scanned the room, freezing as she spotted 3 very familiar figures near the back entrance.

Angel. Her senses had been so overwhelmed by the other vampires in the room, she had been unable to distinguish that distinct feeling she got whenever he was near. He looked great. Not that she'd expected him to change; he still looked the same. He was in black, as usual, and was leaning against the back wall. He smiled suddenly, his attention drawn to the couple beside him. The couple was Cordelia, and the man, Doyle, whom she'd met that fateful Thanksgiving.

Finally, her sensibilities came back to her, and she turned away from them fumbling in her purse and quickly slipping her dark sunglasses on. Steeling herself, she forced her attention to the front.

****

Angel shook his head at the comment Cordelia had made about being at an auction to buy weapons. She'd softened in the years that he'd worked and become friends with her, yes, but there occasional times when the spoiled girl from Sunnydale shone through. His attention was caught suddenly by a flash of bright blue, as the young woman near the front whipped her head around to face the front. Something was familiar about her.

"Angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Where did you just go?" asked Cordelia, fanning herself with the book describing each item.

"That woman near the front by the wall; with the blue scarf. She reminds me of..." He broke off, feeling foolish, but knowing they knew he'd meant.

"Its not anyone I recognize," said Cordelia. "Anyway, Buffy never had that much fashion sense."

"Angel, man, the dagger is up," interrupted Doyle.

Angel quieted, noticing at the same time, that much of the room went still and quiet as well.

"This next item is number 47 in your programs. A splendid third century Etruian dagger. Bidding starts at two thousand."

****

Buffy sighed and looked up at the steel grating above her head. Angel's entrance into the sewers. Her stomach tensed as she placed a hand on the first rung above her head. She had no choice though. She needed that dagger. She paused, fighting the tears that suddenly pooled in her eyes, affecting her vision. It was a matter of life and death. Her life, which simply meant her daughter's.

She'd had just entered her hotel room, not an hour after the auction was over, intent on taking a nap before heading home. The phone had rang, and worried, she'd run to the phone, thinking that Erinne had gotten ill or hurt at school. Reality was worse.

"Buffy, its Pru."

"What's wrong with Erinne?" she asked, her voice panicked.

"She's missing. So is Phoebe."

"Maybe they're at the park..." she'd suggested lamely, somehow knowing that it wasn't the case.

"The front door was broken into. I'm sorry Buffy, we promised we'd take care of her," Pru's voice was choked with emotion.

She'd fought to remain emotionless, reaching for and clinging desperately to the calmness of her 'Slayer mode'. "Who took them?"

"We don't think it was human. There was a note. It says for you to bring the Dagger of Illyia to the Los Angeles docks tomorrow night." Pru was silent for a moment, then spoke again. "What's the Dagger of Illyia? And how did they know we had Erinne?"

"I don't know Pru. Did you look in the Book?" Buffy's mind was racing frantically. There was only one dagger she'd seen lately...and it had been sold in heavy bidding today...to Angel.

"We didn't find anything. Listen, Buffy, we're coming down there. Our sister is gone too, we might need the Power of Three."

She'd waited for the sun to set, knowing that she'd have a better chance of getting the dagger from Angel without him knowing was when he was out of the office. She'd parked across the street, and had watched as he, Doyle and Cordelia had climbed into a black convertible and pulled away from the curb and down the street. Going down the nearest manhole, she'd found herself here, in the first stages of breaking and entering.

Taking a calming breath, she made her way up the last few rungs. Bracing herself, she placed her palms upon the cool steel of the door, and pushed up, cursing softly at the loud clang it made on the cement floor. Cautiously, she peeked up and around before pulling herself out of the sewer. Standing up, she brushed herself off almost casually, looking around, remembering. Nothing much had changed in the years since she'd been there.

Now as to where he'd put the dagger. Someplace safe, she was sure of that. Unlike herself, he knew far more of the occult and its tie ins. She knew he'd been there specifically to get that weapon, just as all the other baddies in the room had been.

"You're never going to find it if you don't start looking," she whispered to herself.

Buffy was so preoccupied with her search in the dimly lit room, she didn't hear the soft foot falls behind her. Didn't know she was being watched until a gun shot sounded, and she jumped in shock.

"FREEZE!" commanded a feminine voice.

Buffy moved slowly, her hands going into the air as she turned. The woman holding the gun on her was blond, just like the last woman to do so. She was tall, with a strong build, her blonde hair framing pretty face. She closed her eyes briefly, hoping this was just a bad dream; she'd wake up at home, with Erinne safe in bed beside her.

Somewhere above them, a door slammed open, and the footsteps were heavy as they moved to the back of the office, toward the stairs. "Kate! What's going..." started a deep, achingly familiar voice before even reaching the apartment. Then there was an audible gasp. "Buffy?"

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