Disclaimer: Don’t own!
A/N: I changed the age Beth was kidnapped, she was Five, Buffy was a very intelligent 3 year old, you can attribute part of that to her being a potential.
Buffy stared at her glass of whiskey, she knew that face. The dark features, curly hair, she had seen him before… “Mr. Turner, she’s fine, fell asleep on the way over here,” the man said.
Buffy sat on the couch with her Aunty as her Uncle spoke to the man in the door, “Oh thank God! Please, come in. Would you like something to drink?”
Buffy peaked around the couch, his eyes were red rimmed, he had been crying. She may only have been three, but she was a very bright three year-old. Bethy was handed to her father, and the man declined the offers.
Buffy liked the man, he seemed safe, and he must have felt her staring because he locked eyes with her. She just stared at him, seeing things in his eyes she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. She smiled and she saw his features curl upwards. Almost as soon as it had appeared, it had disappeared, but she had seen it. She had.
Before she even realized it, he was gone.
As the years passed, Buffy sometimes got this strange feeling like she and Beth were being watched, but it was probably her imagination. Sometimes she caught a flash of a black coat and pale skin against the night when the two best friends went for walks, but she was never sure.
She remembered praying that night, saying a few Hail Mary’s in his name. Beth didn’t really remember anything about that night, but Buffy did, and on the anniversary each year, she prayed for him. As she got older she began to understand just what had haunted The Dark Knight so long ago. It was crystallized with the death of Merrick, the guilt and pain…they were toxic.
Slamming back the harsh liqueur, she paid her tab and left the bar.
Outside it was cold, a storm was coming in, shaking her head to clear it, and she headed off down an alley.
It was early dawn before she returned home, having dispatched almost ten vampires, they were all fledglings, and ill made to boot. Setting down her jacket she sat down on the couch. There was something about that vampire that bothered her. Yes it was the fact that she could swear they had ‘met’ before, but more than that. The way he seemed much more human, even for the half a century she guessed him to be.
Chuckling at herself, she got ready for bed. Lying with the lights off she stared at the ceiling, “Who are you really Mick St. John, who are you,” she asked no one in particular.
She smiled widely at the first clap of thunder and the sudden downpour that overcame the City of Angels. Tonight would be a good night, and tomorrow held the promise of her curiosity being sated.