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Description
TITLE: Home

AUTHOR: Methos (methos@btinternet.com)

DISCLAIMER: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, Fringe, Walter and Peter Bishop, and all Fringe universes belong to J. J. Abrams. Any other characters or universes that get dragged into this mess belong to their respective owners... Nothing is mine, only the extremely twisted idea.

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It wasn’t that she hated Boston, well, that was a lie, she did hate the place. She hated everything it stood for, everything this damn city had taken from her. Ten years ago she’d ran from the city, running from Kakistos, putting everything behind her as she fled to Sunnydale, intent on running as hard and fast as she could. Swearing she’d never return to let the city finish off trying to kill her.

But here she was, the snow already building up around her feet as she stood outside the campus of Harvard University, looking at the gym building across the square. Memories of training with her old Watcher flooding through her mind. She always used to come here, fifteen minutes before Diana finished teaching for the day. She’d flirt and have fun with the boys around campus, tease them a bit, flaunt off her body, then walk through the campus to meet Diana before they’d head to the gym for training.

She wasn’t teasing or flirting any more though, ten years was longer than any Slayer had lived after being called before, aside from Buffy that was, Buffy still had those two extra years on her. But she was in Italy, doing something with her Immortal boyfriend, or something like that anyway. Probably enjoying the warmth of his mansion, it wasn’t that the guy was ugly or anything, he was just overly sexual and handsome, in a camp sort of way, and had an obsession with world war two style coats for some reason. But she was here, her leather trench coat wrapped around her body to insulate herself from the cold; all those years in Sunnydale and around the world had almost made her forget how cold winter in Boston actually was.

Her motorbike was parked just off the road by the square, half of her was tempted to go back to it now just for the heat, to climb on and drive out of the city as fast as she could without looking back, to feel the warmth and power beneath her and pretend she’d never received the call from ‘Big Eddie.’

She couldn’t do that though, she had to know.

Three days ago she’d been in Los Angeles, just dropping off some stuff from Giles to an informant, just a courier job, nothing fancy, but it got her on the road for a bit so she’d taken it. She’d only checked her cell on the off chance while doing a quick patrol, she mostly kept the thing turned off unless she needed to use it, it was just another leash for people to keep track of her as far as she was concerned. The voicemail that had been left for her almost made her drop the phone on the ground there and then though; a voice that she hadn’t heard from for ten years, and prayed she never would again. She never thought how he’d even got her number or contacted her, but a simple ‘track and trace’ job was not something that was really out of ‘Big Eddie’s’ scope. It was only a short message, ten words that froze her on the spot.

‘Peter Bishop’s back in town. Thought you’d like to know.’

But those ten words had been enough for her to call Giles immediately, telling him she was taking a week or two off, then simply turning her cell off and throwing it in her pocket before climbing on her bike and heading towards Boston.

Pete couldn’t have been alive, there was no way he could have survived Kakistos. He’d been home with Diana when Kakistos had found them. The same night she’d ran for her life after watching what Kakistos did to Diana, knowing that he would have done the same to her if he’d found her. She’d left him, a normal boy, Diana’s foster son, no older than she had been and without any slayer to back him up, at the hands of Kakistos.

Just another name, another dead body to add to the list of people who’s blood was on her hands. That’s what she’d always told herself anyway, she’d never even dreamt that Pete could had survived a master vampire, not one she had ran from herself. He’d been in his bedroom, sleeping while she'd been with Diana training downstairs, she hadn’t even thought of him when Kakistos and his minions had come crashing through the door. She could still feel the fear and helplessness that had gripped her that night as she fought then ran for her life.

Shaking the feeling of helplessness away from her body she focused on anything else, the cold snow around her boots, the smell and feel of her leather trench coat wrapped around her body. She cold setting into her knuckles and the snow falling past her eyes and settling in her hair. Anything that would shake the memories of crouching in the shadows outside of Diana’s house, watching helplessly through the window as Kakistos tortured and maimed the only woman that had cared for her as a child.

It didn’t matter that Kakistos was dead, that she’d thrust a wooden beam through his heart and watched him turn to dust herself. Pete’s death, Diana’s death, and all those others were on her conscience. Too much blood for her years, she’d tried to run, to forget it, to tell everyone it didn’t matter to her or that she didn’t care. But now she did, there was no hiding behind a mask of sexuality or bravado, there was no point anymore. She’d grown up, grown beyond hiding herself and pretending the world couldn’t touch her. And she had Buffy, Giles and the rest of the Scooby’s to thank for that.

So now she was here, back in Boston, to face up to her past. To confront her own demons and beg for forgiveness. Ten years ago she’d left Pete to die in that house while she ran to save her own skin, maybe it was true, maybe Pete had escaped somehow, maybe he’d ran as fast as she had and had come back looking for her. She could hope that was the truth anyway, a comforting lie that he wouldn’t hate her for leaving him like that, that he wouldn’t want her dead for letting Kakistos slaughter his foster mom. It was a more comforting thought than the alternative.

She gripped the stake that was in her coat pocket, comforted by the feel of its soft wooden finish against her skin. It was of the stakes that Xander had made for her, sharp and finished perfectly, with a grip that was actually measured for her. Weighted perfectly for holding and throwing, she’d used it to dust more vamps than she could actually count. And it would be the stake she would have to dust Pete with if the nightmares of the past three days came true, she couldn’t believe that Kakistos would have turned Pete, he was thirteen back then, the very thought of Pete as a vampire rebelled in her brain and defied belief. But it was there nonetheless, at the back of her mind, a niggling doubt that she’d left her own foster brother to be turned by the very creature that had slaughtered their mother, her watcher.

And now she’d have kill him like she’d done Kakistos.

Turning back to her bike she shook the snow from her hair and coat, walking over and starting the engine as she climbed on, feeling the hum and vibration between her legs as she revved the engine into life and set off away from the campus. The next stop was home, back to the last place she had seen Pete alive. Then she could move forward, either to hunt him down or ask for his forgiveness.

The worst part was, she didn’t know which would be harder to face.

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Read more at the linky --> [link]

Description
TITLE: Home

AUTHOR: Methos (methos@btinternet.com)

DISCLAIMER: All things BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, Fringe, Walter and Peter Bishop, and all Fringe universes belong to J. J. Abrams. Any other characters or universes that get dragged into this mess belong to their respective owners... Nothing is mine, only the extremely twisted idea.

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

It wasn’t that she hated Boston, well, that was a lie, she did hate the place. She hated everything it stood for, everything this damn city had taken from her. Ten years ago she’d ran from the city, running from Kakistos, putting everything behind her as she fled to Sunnydale, intent on running as hard and fast as she could. Swearing she’d never return to let the city finish off trying to kill her.

But here she was, the snow already building up around her feet as she stood outside the campus of Harvard University, looking at the gym building across the square. Memories of training with her old Watcher flooding through her mind. She always used to come here, fifteen minutes before Diana finished teaching for the day. She’d flirt and have fun with the boys around campus, tease them a bit, flaunt off her body, then walk through the campus to meet Diana before they’d head to the gym for training.

She wasn’t teasing or flirting any more though, ten years was longer than any Slayer had lived after being called before, aside from Buffy that was, Buffy still had those two extra years on her. But she was in Italy, doing something with her Immortal boyfriend, or something like that anyway. Probably enjoying the warmth of his mansion, it wasn’t that the guy was ugly or anything, he was just overly sexual and handsome, in a camp sort of way, and had an obsession with world war two style coats for some reason. But she was here, her leather trench coat wrapped around her body to insulate herself from the cold; all those years in Sunnydale and around the world had almost made her forget how cold winter in Boston actually was.

Her motorbike was parked just off the road by the square, half of her was tempted to go back to it now just for the heat, to climb on and drive out of the city as fast as she could without looking back, to feel the warmth and power beneath her and pretend she’d never received the call from ‘Big Eddie.’

She couldn’t do that though, she had to know.

Three days ago she’d been in Los Angeles, just dropping off some stuff from Giles to an informant, just a courier job, nothing fancy, but it got her on the road for a bit so she’d taken it. She’d only checked her cell on the off chance while doing a quick patrol, she mostly kept the thing turned off unless she needed to use it, it was just another leash for people to keep track of her as far as she was concerned. The voicemail that had been left for her almost made her drop the phone on the ground there and then though; a voice that she hadn’t heard from for ten years, and prayed she never would again. She never thought how he’d even got her number or contacted her, but a simple ‘track and trace’ job was not something that was really out of ‘Big Eddie’s’ scope. It was only a short message, ten words that froze her on the spot.

‘Peter Bishop’s back in town. Thought you’d like to know.’

But those ten words had been enough for her to call Giles immediately, telling him she was taking a week or two off, then simply turning her cell off and throwing it in her pocket before climbing on her bike and heading towards Boston.

Pete couldn’t have been alive, there was no way he could have survived Kakistos. He’d been home with Diana when Kakistos had found them. The same night she’d ran for her life after watching what Kakistos did to Diana, knowing that he would have done the same to her if he’d found her. She’d left him, a normal boy, Diana’s foster son, no older than she had been and without any slayer to back him up, at the hands of Kakistos.

Just another name, another dead body to add to the list of people who’s blood was on her hands. That’s what she’d always told herself anyway, she’d never even dreamt that Pete could had survived a master vampire, not one she had ran from herself. He’d been in his bedroom, sleeping while she'd been with Diana training downstairs, she hadn’t even thought of him when Kakistos and his minions had come crashing through the door. She could still feel the fear and helplessness that had gripped her that night as she fought then ran for her life.

Shaking the feeling of helplessness away from her body she focused on anything else, the cold snow around her boots, the smell and feel of her leather trench coat wrapped around her body. She cold setting into her knuckles and the snow falling past her eyes and settling in her hair. Anything that would shake the memories of crouching in the shadows outside of Diana’s house, watching helplessly through the window as Kakistos tortured and maimed the only woman that had cared for her as a child.

It didn’t matter that Kakistos was dead, that she’d thrust a wooden beam through his heart and watched him turn to dust herself. Pete’s death, Diana’s death, and all those others were on her conscience. Too much blood for her years, she’d tried to run, to forget it, to tell everyone it didn’t matter to her or that she didn’t care. But now she did, there was no hiding behind a mask of sexuality or bravado, there was no point anymore. She’d grown up, grown beyond hiding herself and pretending the world couldn’t touch her. And she had Buffy, Giles and the rest of the Scooby’s to thank for that.

So now she was here, back in Boston, to face up to her past. To confront her own demons and beg for forgiveness. Ten years ago she’d left Pete to die in that house while she ran to save her own skin, maybe it was true, maybe Pete had escaped somehow, maybe he’d ran as fast as she had and had come back looking for her. She could hope that was the truth anyway, a comforting lie that he wouldn’t hate her for leaving him like that, that he wouldn’t want her dead for letting Kakistos slaughter his foster mom. It was a more comforting thought than the alternative.

She gripped the stake that was in her coat pocket, comforted by the feel of its soft wooden finish against her skin. It was of the stakes that Xander had made for her, sharp and finished perfectly, with a grip that was actually measured for her. Weighted perfectly for holding and throwing, she’d used it to dust more vamps than she could actually count. And it would be the stake she would have to dust Pete with if the nightmares of the past three days came true, she couldn’t believe that Kakistos would have turned Pete, he was thirteen back then, the very thought of Pete as a vampire rebelled in her brain and defied belief. But it was there nonetheless, at the back of her mind, a niggling doubt that she’d left her own foster brother to be turned by the very creature that had slaughtered their mother, her watcher.

And now she’d have kill him like she’d done Kakistos.

Turning back to her bike she shook the snow from her hair and coat, walking over and starting the engine as she climbed on, feeling the hum and vibration between her legs as she revved the engine into life and set off away from the campus. The next stop was home, back to the last place she had seen Pete alive. Then she could move forward, either to hunt him down or ask for his forgiveness.

The worst part was, she didn’t know which would be harder to face.

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

Read more at the linky --> [link]