Author: Tonya (Crzygrrl@hotmail.com)
Summary: Angel’s daughter reminisces about her strange life.
Spoilers: Up to Offspring, sort of Lullaby, too.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I still do not own anything in relation to AtS.
Distribution: Please ask the author.
Feedback: Send all feedback to Tonya.
As I step into the empty lobby of the Hyperion, I realize just how much I will miss this place. No one has walked these halls in a good five years, and tomorrow morning, it will be nothing but rubble. Wolfram and Hart’s bulldozers will begin plowing down the Hyperion. Destroying my home but never touching my memories.
My life has never been normal, even my birth was an event in and of itself. Twenty-one years ago, my life began here on the floor of the hotel lobby where my mother pushed me into the world, later escaping before my father had a chance to kill her. My mother. That phrase still feels odd, almost surreal. *Mother*. I don’t have a mother. I was created, engineered with a purpose and prophecy that I am just now beginning to truly understand.
Living and breathing, I was born of two undead creatures. My *mother* is a heartless vampire while my father is a champion, a vampire with a soul. Science cannot explain me. Nothing can explain me. I am a pure mystery—-my genetics engineered by the Powers That Be. They created everything about me—-my raven hair, my piercing silver eyes, my intelligence and ingenuity, my destiny. I am the pure born of evil. I am the light.
The light. I was born with no name, a blank slate until Cordy came along. My first few nights in this world she spent at the hotel computer, searching for the perfect name. On the third night, she found it—Amara Lucilla. The eternal light. From that moment on, I *became* my prophecy.
Cordy, the woman who christened me, is my guardian legally and my real mother in my heart. Besides Daddy, she is the one who tried to make my life as a child normal. As normal as it could be, anyway. Imagine your typical childhood, and I am certain that mine was ten times more bizarre.
When I was younger, I truly had no sense of identity. Everyone would tiptoe around the idea of telling me about who I was and where I came from, and in the process, would just lead me to get more confused and frustrated by my own presence in the world. Even Daddy hesitated when I would ask him about myself, about the mother I had never known, and about him.
Cordy, on the other hand, was the only one who would be straight with me. When everyone else was afraid to tell me the truth about my origins, afraid that they would scare the *little girl*, Cordy took me by my small hand and led me outside. We sat in the warm grass, and she explained to me what Daddy and Darla were, how special I was, and I understood. Somehow, Cordy knew that I could wrap my mind around the truth if only someone would just tell me. Just let me in on the secret. I love all my family—-from Uncles Wesley and Gunn to Auntie Fred—-but out of all of them, Cordy understood and continues to understand me the most. She understood that I was more than a child, that I was unique.
Even though she knew I was extraordinary, she still treated me like the child I really was. She made sure that I had as normal a childhood experience one could have when living in a hotel with an extended family, none of which I was actually related to. She made sure we celebrated each holiday that passed, something that she had said they had never really done before my presence. She threw me extravagant birthday parties, as extravagant as Daddy would let her anyway. It always brought a smile to my face when Daddy would get that look of slight horror on his face when Cordy discussed the party plans. Sometimes, I swear Cordy did those things on purpose just to get that priceless expression from him.
Cordy was young when I came into the world, a year younger than I am today, but by the time I had entered kindergarten, she had the *mother* thing down pat. By the time kindergarten began, I had just learned the truth about myself and my origins, and she was more worried about my teachers and classmates than I was. The night before my first day, she and Daddy sat me down and taught me how to respond to my teacher’s questions. Actually, *she* taught me. Daddy just listened as she rambled on. I just followed his example, listening silently and nodding occassionally, as she explained that I couldn’t tell anyone about Daddy being a vampire or that they fought demons on a nightly basis.
I simply nodded because I already knew and understood what was going on. I already knew that I was entering a new situation with people who knew nothing about the real demons that walked the streets at night. I already knew what to say to the teacher when asked what my parents did. I had already been rehearsing my response—-“My mother is a secretary, and my father works as a detective.” I was prepared even as Cordy and Daddy attempted to reassure me that everything would go smoothly.
They always reassure me. Even when I wasn’t worried about something, I could always count on them to comfort me. Strangely enough, they still do that to this very day. Sometimes I think that it’s more for themselves than for me, but I still appreciate the gesture. It’s almost as if they feel that if they can make me believe that everything is okay, then maybe it will be.
Cordy has always been my confidant and mother-figure while Daddy has been just that. My father. My great protector. I never once doubted in him, in how much he loved me, even after I learned the truth about him. In fact, it just made me love him more. He was like me—-unique. Not what he appeared to be. A demon hidden under the façade of a handsome champion. Being a little girl unlike other children, I could relate to the idea of hiding in plain view.
As I stroll through the empty lobby, my footsteps echoing eerily with each step I take, I peer into Daddy’s old office. The office he had gradually reclaimed from Uncle Wesley after my birth. If there was one room other than my suite that I could always be found in, it was this one. I loved this office growing up. This was the room where Daddy and I did most of our bonding. In here with Daddy, I could be the other Amara. The Amara that I was more comfortable being, the Amara that I felt most at peace with.
Daddy would be sitting at his large desk, researching for some new case, and I would be stretched out on the carper near his feet, happily reading one of my many novels Uncle Wesley bought me. We would both read silently, enjoying each other’s company in a way only we could understand. Daddy and I have always had this way of communicating without saying a word, almost as if we could read each other’s minds. Occasionally, he would nudge me gently with his foot or bounce a pen off the top of my head, sending me into a giggle fit. When I would look up at him, he would pretend that he was still reading, but I knew that he wasn’t. The smile forming at the corners of his mouth betrayed him. It was those moments that I enjoyed the most. Those simple moments where I was just a girl. An *odd* girl, but still just a girl.
By the time I hit puberty, I missed those moments. Normal girls have to deal with boys and bras and first periods during that time of their life, but I also had to worry about things that only happened to me. By the time I was thirteen, I could read people’s minds. Invading their most private thoughts. Now I have the ability to control when and where I can do so, but at thirteen, I had no way to control it. Focus in school was hard to achieve when I could hear almost every classmate’s inner thoughts. If I hadn’t learned to control it, I’m sure it would have driven me literally insane. Besides that gift, I could invoke a little telekinesis. It started off simple—-moving a small object like a pencil or picking a sock up off the floor. Those are simple parlor tricks to me now. If needed, I could probably hurl a grown man across the room with only a simple thought.
Of course now these little things don’t bother me. They’re a part of me, a part of my being, but back then, I had no clue what the hell was going on. I had always been told that I was different, but I never really knew how different I really was. When I started asking them about all these new little things I could do, Cordy and Daddy had no choice but to tell me the full truth about me and my destiny.
At thirteen, just as I was beginning to finally understand the basics of high school and boys, I was told that I was a prophecy. The pure one born of evil that will shine a light upon humanity. The powerful one who will be a key player in a major battle that will either save humanity or destroy it where it stands.
They couldn’t tell me anything more than that because they knew nothing more. They had only learned this much from the Powers after my birth, and the Powers had not given them any definites. The Powers did not tell them when this battle for humanity would be or even the exact role that I played in it. They simply told them what they felt they needed to know—-that I was to be loved and protected.
To be protected. I never knew that I had to be protected until then. Apparently when I came of age, I sent off this signal that attracted evil. Like some weird form of demon pheromones. Evil armed with claws and teeth that was set on destroying what I would later become. But none of them ever got remotely close to me. Daddy would be there—-kicking ass first and asking questions later. If you messed with me, you messed with him, and that’s the way it continues to be to this very day.
By the time I was sixteen, the signals become nearly non-existent, but by then, it was too late. Evil had showed up on the doorstep of the Hyperion one too many times for my Daddy’s liking. He couldn’t watch and protect me every second of the day, and he felt it would be better to relocate. Go somewhere else and start anew. So to protect me, Daddy uprooted Angel Investigations and moved it into a new building across town provided by a former friend of his, some millionaire named David Nabbit. From that moment on, I didn’t have to worry about demons coming in the middle of the night to abduct or kill me. I felt safe because Daddy felt safe.
Five years. It’s been five years since I’ve packed up all my things and said goodbye to the only home I had known. I feel sad to see this place go, but I guess it’s happening for a reason. The destruction of the Hyperion will be like the closing of this chapter of my life, the finalizing of it. As I stand and listen to the silence surrounding me, all I can do is smile.
Even as the hotel stands desolate, I can still hear all the life in this place. I can hear Uncles Wesley and Gunn arguing about which sword is best for gutting a large demon. I can still hear Auntie Fred rambling on about New Year’s and how it somehow relates to physics, and I can still hear them. Cordy and Angel. My mother and my father. I can hear them singing me happy birthday. I can hear Daddy reading me a bedtime story. I can hear Cordy fumbling her way through the big “boys and sex” talk. I can hear them laughing. I can hear…
“You ready yet?”
I turn and greet Daddy with a smile. He lingers in the doorway to the hotel, arms crossed over his chest and a warm smile across his face.
“Has it been that long already?” I ask with a light laugh.
“Depends on your definition of *long*. You realize that Cordy is going to kill us if we’re not home soon, right?” he grins in response as he approaches me. He stands beside me as he asks again, “You ready?”
I look around with a sigh. I am ready. I’m ready to let this place go, to move past it and what it represents. My innocence. My beginning. I’m finally ready to face myself and my destiny, to face my future as the eternal light.
I take his arm and smile up at him as I reply, “Yeah, Daddy, I’m ready.”