TITLE: Footsteps 1a/6
AUTHORS: indie
EMAIL: indiefic@hotmail.com
SITE: http://www.sunflower.com/~indie
FEEDBACK: yes please
RATING: PG-13 (yes, I actually wrote something that wasn't dirty)
CHARACTERS: B/A, B/R implied
SPOILERS: BTVS season 4, Angel season 1
DISCLAIMER: Joss, the WB and Fox own everything, I own nothing
SUMMARY: Can Buffy's son stop himself from making the same mistakes as Angel?
DISTRIBUTION: angels_soulmates@yahoogroups.com, buffy_angels_kids@yahoogroups.com, buffy-beta@eskimo.com, soulmateseternal@yahoogroups.com, aubafic@yahoogroups.com, www.fanfiction.net. All others please ask
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The story is broken into pieces for length. It is a single story, not a series.

AU fic. It breaks off after IWRY. Yoko Factor never happened. Buffy never 'fessed up to Riley about Angel. No testosterone poisoning. No school yard B/A throwdown.

Time is currently 2017. No future fantastic, 2017 looks just like 2001. Suspension of disbelief kiddies.

A note to people who may read this story and be curious about other things I've written. *WARNING* this is the ONLY non-NC-17 piece I've ever written so if you don't like nekkid nastiness, please do not visit my site.

DEDICATION: A big thanks to Shayla for all of her wonderful help with this story. Also thanks to Kim H., Jennifer C., Monica R. and Red for their enthusiasm and inspiration. Finally, to Ducks, Margot, Laure and Harpy for being so damn good.

*****

EARLY DECEMBER, 2017 - HUXLEY, IOWA

*****

Jakob Finn pulled absentmindedly at the strings of fabric hanging off of the old recliner as he took another drink from the slightly warm beer and tried to concentrate on the basketball game blaring on the TV. His dad would kill him for messing with his chair. He loved this recliner.

No, scratch that. His dad *would* have killed him for doing that. As it was, his dad wouldn't be doing anything - ever again.

He was dead.

His death was the reason Jake was hiding out in the garage rather than sitting in a classroom. Jake admitted to himself with disgust that he would rather have been in class, if only so he could play basketball on Friday night. That however, wasn't going to happen. He also knew he would be bombarded with pitying glances from his teachers and classmates if he went to school. Everyone would act weird around him, whisper things behind his back, talk about what a tragedy Riley's death had been and how he'd only made it worse.

Home wasn't any better. The house was swarming with concerned friends and neighbors wishing to offer their condolences. How exactly was bringing by a casserole supposed to make anything better? Jake couldn't sit there like his mother did and accept it all with grace. He knew at seventeen that he was too old to be shirking his responsibilities, but he really didn't care. He'd gone out to the garage to hide. The knowledge that Riley would have been deeply disappointed with his behavior didn't serve to improve his mood either.

The garage had been his dad's safe haven, his private office. The structure's only real allure was the private room in the loft that had been hooked up with cable. The space heater, recliner, dorm sized fridge and TV made it a comfortable hiding place. Its appeal might have had something to do with the fact that no one would look for him here, and his dad couldn't yell at him anymore for messing things up.

The funeral would be held Friday. All of the arrangements were made. They'd been in place for almost a year, ever since his dad's condition had been diagnosed as terminal. Riley had done everything necessary himself, not wanting his wife and son to be burdened with the painful task. Somehow he hadn't managed to die so that his funeral wouldn't conflict with the weekly basketball game, Jakob noted ruefully.

The former soldier had felt responsible for his own death, and maybe he was. Years of drug therapy, gene replacement and meds that did who knows what, had all taken their toll. His body had just disintegrated while they all watched. Nothing helped. When he'd finally died, he'd been so doped up on morphine he hadn't known what planet he was on. Towards the end, he hadn't recognized either his wife or son.

The last part had probably been for the best. Jakob had always been at odds with his father and as Riley had gotten sicker, Jakob's behavior had gotten more and more out of control. Riley had been so upset by his son's actions that the doctors wouldn't even let him talk to Jake after the boy was arrested for beating up another kid.

The early morning visit from the sheriff notifying them of Riley's death had been a blessing of sorts. At least now he had peace, something that had been lacking in his life for a very long time.

****

Looking out the kitchen window towards the garage, Buffy sighed heavily. She knew Jake was out there. She also knew that he was probably drinking beer out of the stash he kept in his father's old refrigerator that he didn't know she knew about. She comforted herself with the fact that at least she knew where he was, for once.

Jakob was a good kid at heart, he just had a lot of issues. He got in a lot of trouble, skipped school, drank, ran around with a bad crowd. The saving grace was his obsession with basketball. At least for several months out of the year, Buffy could be assured he'd actually go to school to avoid being ineligible for the team.

"You need help with that?" Willow asked, pointing to the plate, Buffy held in her hand. The former Slayer shook her head 'no' and the witch smiled sympathetically.

"He'll be all right, Buffy. Jake's a strong kid. He'll get through this," Willow said gently.

"I hope so, Will, I really do."

"Have you talked to him yet?"

The former Slayer nodded 'no' again. "I'm going to wait until after the funeral," She said quietly. "It would just be too much to deal with right now."

*****

The dream came to him like all of the others. They weren't normal dreams, more like memories. Over the years, they had become progressively more intense, but the basic theme never changed.

Darkness. Horror. Terror.

It wasn't a nightmare. Nightmares were populated with unknown monsters. In this dream, Jakob knew the monster. It was himself. He heard wailing in the distance, fear. Somewhere people were terrified ... of him.

Inside the dream/memory Jakob looked down at his bloody hands. He was crouched over Riley's lifeless body, the dead man's eyes staring blankly. A disembodied female voice spoke, "He must wake again," or maybe it was "You must wake again," Jake couldn't quite make it out exactly.

Jake woke with a start, sitting up in bed, taking ragged gasps of air until he regained his bearings. Episodes like this had haunted him since childhood, but they still left him feeling deeply shaken and alone. He'd never told anyone about it, afraid people would think he was crazy. How could you explain that you had memories of things that hadn't happened? How could you tell them you knew there was darkness inside of you just waiting to get out?

He laughed hollowly to himself. Sometimes it wasn't *waiting*. Sometimes the darkness inside him was out in full force.

Jakob was thankful that the doctors hadn't allowed Riley to know all the details about what happened the night he got arrested. The odds that his father would have been happy to know that he'd blinded that moron Steve weren't good.

Jake hadn't meant for it to happen, not really. He'd never gotten along with the kid and for some reason the idiot had chosen that night at the football game to taunt him with the gossip that he wasn't really a Finn. Jake had simply stood there while Steve accused his mother of being a whore, his father of being a cuckolded fool, him of being a bastard.

Then all hell broke loose.

Jake wasn't even sure what had really happened, his first coherent recollection was that of two cops and a few guys from the bleachers pulling him off of the bleeding kid. It had been a disaster. His attack left Steven Simms legally blind in one eye. Buffy had pulled in every favor, every bit of pity over Riley's condition to get him off with probation and community service.

*****

Willow picked up the phone in Ames, Iowa. She hadn't been able to find a place to stay in Huxley, so she was in a hotel room thirty minutes away. She hated being so far from Buffy when her friend needed so much help, but she didn't want to add to the Slayer's burden by imposing upon her for a place to stay. Buffy wasn't looking good. She was extremely thin and had an air of perpetual exhaustion. It was time for drastic measures. Well past time, in fact.

The phone was answered on the third ring.

"Why aren't you here?" she asked bluntly, not in the mood for pleasantries.

The silence that followed was deafening. Being a witch gave her a good deal of insight into what people were really thinking. She was sure, however, that even if she'd been blind, deaf, and comatose, she would have sensed the overwhelming turmoil on the other end of the line.

"What makes you think she would want me there?" Angel asked quietly.

"Because you two still care about each other whether you will admit it or not."

"Willow, Buffy and I haven't spoken in more than eighteen years, and the last time we did, it didn't go too well. We agreed to stay out of each other's lives."

"Do you want to hear how awful she looks? Do you want to know about all the awful things people here are saying about her?"

"Don't do this to me," Angel pled on the other end.

"No," Willow hissed, suddenly enraged, "You don't do this to her. Again."

There was only the sound of his breathing on the other end.

"You're not going to come are you?" she asked, defeated.

"You know I can't."

"You're human, Angel. You're just a man ... and Buffy is just a woman now. No Slayer and vampire titles to get in the way."

"Her ... husband ... just died," he said, almost choking on the word. "I can't just show up and expect her to take me back. I don't know if she even wants to see me again."

Willow ground her teeth together. "This isn't about her taking you back," she snapped. "This is about you being there because Buffy needs you."

The defeat in his voice almost made her feel sorry for pressing so hard. "I can't Willow," he said very quietly.

*****

The following evening, Buffy knocked quietly on the door to her son's bedroom. At the muffled reply from within, she pushed the door open, leaning against the frame. Jake didn't look up, trying desperately to appear distracted as he read some sports magazine. At the funeral he'd been forced to socialize with people wishing to pay their respects. When they'd returned to the house, he'd made a hasty retreat to the sanctuary of his room.

"You can come downstairs now," she said quietly. "They've all left."

He grunted noncommittally. She frowned, moving into his room and sat gingerly beside his sprawled form.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked.

He looked at her, his face the usual expressionless mask he tried so hard to cultivate. "Sure," he said, turning his gaze back to the article.

Carefully she extricated the magazine from his grasp, forcing his attention to her face.

"Are you happy here?" she asked him seriously.

"What do you mean?"

"Here. In Huxley?"

Jake shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what exactly she was getting at. Buffy sighed again, afraid of the negative consequences this conversation could bring. She had no desire to uproot her son's life, but she didn't see any way around it.

"You don't seem very ... comfortable here, Jakob. You never have."

"What, you mean in this bustling metropolis of two thousand?" he asked sarcastically. "How could I not *love* it?"

She blinked at him, nonplussed. It was hard to treat him like a man when he acted like a child.

"I don't think I've ever tried very hard to hide the fact that we've stayed here because of Riley. He loved this place so much, this farm, everything. I've never felt ... settled here. I grew up in L.A. and I miss it, a lot."

He looked at her in disbelief. "Are you thinking about moving back to L.A.?"

"I don't know. That all depends on you. I know you're restless here, but you're already a junior in high school. You'll go to college soon. If you want to finish here in Huxley then we'll stay. After you graduate I'll move. It's whatever will be best for you."

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "I mean nobody *ever* gets out of Huxley. I hadn't considered it. This is where ... he graduated from."

Buffy swallowed. She didn't want to have this conversation, but she knew that though Jakob tried to pretend that nothing ever affected him, he had heard the talk.

"I don't think this is the best environment for you anymore, Jakob."

"What?" he snorted, "just because everybody here thinks I'm nothing but a thug and they all blame me for his death."

Oh yes, he'd definitely heard the nasty gossip.

"It's not true, Jakob. Don't you believe it for one second," she said seriously, looking him directly in the eye. "Riley was sick, very sick, and there wasn't anything anybody could do about it."

"Yeah," he said ruefully, "but I really didn't make it any easier on him, did I?"

"Probably not," she answered bluntly, "but you getting into trouble wasn't what made him sick. I know a lot of people around here thought that you should have spent all of your time playing dutiful son instead of ... "

"Instead of getting arrested and generally being worthless," he supplied flippantly.

She stared at him until the force of her gaze caused him to look away in shame. "You aren't worthless, don't you ever say that. And yes, I'm sure you getting in trouble didn't help the situation, but it sure as hell didn't kill Riley. He and the government took care of that all by themselves."

"That's not what people say. That's not what grandma says, " he answered in a near whisper. He sounded so young that Buffy longed to pull him into her arms. She didn't, knowing it would wound his pride.

"It doesn't matter what people say," Buffy hissed bitterly. She hated her mother-in-law and had tried to keep her son away from the vengeful woman. "None of them know the whole story, not even your grandmother. They don't know about the experiments Riley was involved in. It's none of their damn business. Unfortunately, in a town this small, no one ever minds their own business."

Jakob shook his head, taking in everything. After several long minutes he raised his gaze to meet hers and asked, "You really think moving to L.A. might make a difference?"

"Maybe," she said hopefully, "I don't know, but at this point I don't think a fresh start would hurt either of us."

"What would we do?"

"We have the insurance money and the government settlement. We'd be okay, for a while. You will - of course," she said in a menacing tone, "finish school, and I'm not sure what I'll do yet."

"You really think we could make it?"

"Yes," she said honestly, "we'll have to downsize, but we won't be living on the streets."

Time for the big revelation. Buffy took a deep breath and said, "There's a school in Los Angeles. A private school. They sent a scout out last year to watch you play basketball. They've offered you a full scholarship to play for them."

"Last year?" Jake asked.

"Yes. The coach, Dave Williams, was an old friend of your father's. They were on the team together at Wake Forrest. Riley had a lot of faith in your talent, Jakob. He asked Dave to come down and take a look at you as a favor. He apparently liked what he saw."

Jake forgot himself and smiled, then quickly suppressed it. He had never gotten along with his father, they were total opposites, always butting heads. Basketball was the one interest they shared. They both loved it and were very good at it. The fact that his estranged father had taken the time to call a scout in to look at him smoothed over a bit of the issues he still had with the dead man.

"Riley loved you, Jakob. He only wanted the best for you. He knew that when he was gone that you and I would probably leave Huxley. He wanted you to have every opportunity in the world."

Jake nodded, but didn't say anything. Leaning over, Buffy ruffled her son's dark hair and placed a kiss on his forehead. She handed him some literature on the school and a video the coach had sent especially for Jake.

"Think about it, sweetheart," she said as she rose to leave.

*****

Jake didn't have to think about it for very long. Within minutes of the offer, he'd made the decision to leave the small Iowa town. He'd left a lot of things unsaid in his conversation with his mother. He didn't see the need to upset her any further, considering she probably didn't know he was aware of just how scathing the local gossip could be.

He'd avoided mentioning the fact that half of Huxley pitied poor Riley not only because his son was such a screw up, but because they didn't believe Jake was Riley's son at all. Jake's paternal grandmother had been that theory's biggest proponent, especially when Buffy had failed to produce any more children after Jakob was born.

Riley had always defended his son's parentage, assuring anyone who had the gall to ask that yes, the boy was his. Whether or not he really believed that, Jake would never know, but publicly he had always claimed Jakob.

The boy's thoughts wandered back to his dream from the night before. The feel of the dream had been the same as the dreams that had always haunted him, but the latest one held a relevance that the others never had. His father's dead body and the echoing words, "He must wake again." Jakob shook his head to clear his thoughts. Riley wouldn't wake again, he was dead. Perhaps if he left this place behind he could leave the dreams behind as well.