Van

"So, when you said you wanted to show me a place Mom loved, I expected something cliche like a bench in a park."

Van shivered as wind whipped around her hunched form. It was so cold, the flurries landing in her hair didn't melt, making it look as though she had placed white flowers in the copper strands. At her side, Abe appeared quite comfortable despite his thinner dress coat, and he shook his head in amusement at the sight of his daughter's dramatic discomfort.

"Xandra did love to spend a lot of time outside," he admitted, opening the door to the Colonel's Arcade. Pinging and punching sounds filled the space, and the air smelled like stale popcorn. "But whenever she needed to unwind, she came here. This is where... never mind. Can you guess which game was her favorite?"

Van wanted to press her father to finish his last thought, but fearing it might conjure the return of the brooding tyrant, she let it slide. While her body came back to an acceptable temperature, she perused the games, gasping with delight when she spied the right one.

"Air hockey," she shouted, grabbing her father's hand and dragging him to an empty table. "We moved around a lot when I was little, but when we finally settled in Colorado, Mom bought one of these and put it in the house. We used to play for hours. Until our arms hurt."

He grinned and slid four quarters into the payment slot. The table whirred to life, and air blew from the holes dotting the surface. The puck dropped into the slot in front of Van with a click. Pulling it out, she waved it in front of her father while arching an eyebrow.

"It's only been a few months for me, old man. How long has it been since you played?"

"Old?" he growled. "Thirty-eight is hardly old."

"I just call it like I see it."

He snorted while drawing up his sleeves. A shadow skittered through his eyes, but he banished it before Van could ask what troubled him.

"The last time I played was with your mom, but they call it muscle memory for a reason."

To the side of them, someone burst into laughter, making both Van and Abe startle. An elderly gentleman leaned against the food service counter and tugged on one end of a thick, white mustache as he studied them.

"It's the Colonel himself," Abe said, crossing the distance to hug the old man. "How have you been?"

"Same as always, though I have to say seeing you here is making me feel years younger. This one must belong to you and Xandra? Looks like someone split you two in half to make her."

Van blushed and reached to shake his extended hand. All her life, she had been told by other people she looked identical to her mother, and she accepted the words as a compliment despite feeling like there was a part of her they didn't see. The shape of her jaw. A flash in her emerald eyes. The length of her fingers. 

None of those belonged to her mother, and there was a time in her life, Van would study the differences for hours, wondering at the stranger who'd given her his likeness. After meeting her father, she'd marked the physical connections between them, but hearing another confirm them shifted something inside of her. Something that scared her.

"It's nice to meet you," she said.

Abe put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Recently she would have caused a scene if he dared touch her- at the very least, she would have flinched and glared. Now, she leaned into him, loving the comfort.

"I heard you two had a kid together after I found she died." The twinkle in Colonel's eyes faded. "I was real sorry to hear about that. It's been almost eighteen years since she left, and I still look for her at the air hockey table throughout the day. Bout cried when I spied your girl here."

Van was too choked up to reply with more than a weepy smile. Her father appeared to be on the verge of tearing up himself, and the bit of self preservation she had left nudged her. How could she be certain he wasn't acting? If losing Xandra moved him this much, why had he never gone after her? What had driven them apart in the first place? It was likely the answer to the second would reveal the answer to the first, but she was determined to have both.

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a blur of plastic pucks and sweaty brows. Halfway through their first game, she shed her coat, rolling her sleeves up to match her fathers. She was ahead by two points, but he made her work for them. Colonel remained nearby, bringing them drinks and nachos, telling her stories about her parents.

"On Saturdays kids used to come in here and play a knockout tournament. You play til you lose, and Xandra held the table for four hours. Didn't even look like her arms were shaking. That kid had stamina," Colonel crowed, slapping his knee. "In comes your father. The two of them must have been in an argument-"

Abe interjected. "I remember this, and we did. It was the summer before our senior year of college, and she was going to a family reunion for the entire month of July. I begged her to skip or to let me come, and she said it wasn't possible."

"So you got in a fight about it?" Van leaned against the air hockey table. The bit of air shooting up from the table did little to cool her off, but she was thankful for the chance to rest.

"We were young and stupid. I thought she was choosing them over me, and I wasn't sure we would have another summer together. I blew off the plans we made to spend together the weekend before she left because I was so mad."

"And that's how she ended up in here," Colonel continued when Abe lapsed into thoughtful silence. "Madder than a hornet, and that's probably how she played so hard so long. But then comes your father. He challenges her to a game. If he wins, she has to forgive him, and if he loses, he will grovel for the rest of his life."

Van slapped a hand over her mouth to stop a giggle from escaping. Her father raised a brow, and she shook her head before saying, "Most people would just apologize."

"I like my way better."

"I'm guessing Dad won?"

Colonel nodded. "Sure did. First time he's ever beat her. Later, she told him he only won because she was so tired after playing all day long, but I've never seen her quite so happy to lose before."

Ten minutes later, Van delivered the winning shot, making her victory for the day absolute, and she suddenly felt exhausted- physically and emotionally. Abe didn't press for another game, and he sought Colonel to bid him goodbye while she gathered her things.

They took a different path home, turning toward an area of town many called the Warehouse District. She eyed the brick buildings with only passing curiosity, her thoughts too consumed by the stories about her parents and the changes in her father.

"What happened? If you two were so in love, what happened?" she blurted out.

Abe halted. For most of their walk, he'd been just as occupied with his own thoughts as she was, though she thought she noticed a strange determination in his steps. A bit too purposeful for an evening stroll home.

"Is it that hard to answer?"

"Yes," he whispered, looking at his watch and sighing. "But not for the reasons you think. I'm not hiding it. I just don't like remembering thinking about it."

"Please."

They started to move. "We graduated from college, and as is tradition in our family, I was supposed to get engaged when I turned twenty-two. My parents were pleased with Xandra. They thought she would do well as a Slayer, but I had to tell her about it first. This way."

He pointed down a side street. It wasn't the way home, but she wondered if he wanted to extend their walk so he could finish the tale before getting home. And this street was more sheltered from the icy wind.

"She shocked the hell out of me. Turns out she wasn't as Unknowing as we thought. She knew who we were, but she wanted me to give it up."

"And you chose the Slayers over her," Van snarled, her old bitterness returning with ease.

"No, Van," he said, grabbing her arm to keep her from rushing ahead. Unlike times before, his grip was gentle. "When she said that, I felt free. For the first time in my life, I saw a future I wanted. We made plans, and I went home to put my things in order. Only..."

"Only what," she prompted. They had stopped again. This time outside of a building with lots of activity. A string of people garbed in heavy burgundy coats moved in and out, some carrying equipment while others barked orders. Something told her to pay attention, that there was something familiar about their faces, but she needed to hear the rest of her father's story.

"Only, when I got home, my father began the initiation ceremony, and what I learned changed everything. I couldn't be a foolish, lovesick child and run off. I learned what we did at the Asylum was far more important than what we'd been told, but I also knew Xandra wasn't meant for this life. So I pushed her away. Hard. And she went."

"And you never went looking for her because you wanted her to leave," she said with in a trembling voice as the phone in her pocket started to buzz.

"Exactly."

"Supreme!"

Abe spun around as one of the men working in the warehouse approached. Only when he pushed his fleece lined hood back, did she recognize the man was Slayer Francis. Everyone was a Slayer.

Van wiped a tear forming in her eyes and blinked the rest away. While her father talked to Slayer Francis, she dug her phone out. Eight messages waited for her. They were warnings from Luca. Frantic declarations of an emergency, and it didn't take much for her to put two and two together. The cold growing in her chest had nothing to do with temperature.

"And you have him?" Abe demanded, his fatherly tone replaced by razor edged authority.

"Trixie has him."

Van followed his pointing finger. Trixie stood to the side, one hand wrapped tightly around the arm of a man in cuffs. His head hung low, but she knew who it was because of the location. Trixie's presence at Riviere had been a trap. Not one for Van and Luca but for Tommy. She was certain of it. Too much coincidence meant it was no coincidence at all.

Feigning ignorance, Van asked, "What's happening?"

"That man is a traitor, and traitors have to be punished," Abe snarled. Beneath the anger, he vibrated with anticipation. As if he would enjoy handing out punishment. "I need you to go back home. I'll probably be late getting back."

"Did you know about this?" she asked, refusing to move. "Is that why we came out here? So you could be close by and soften me up while you were at it."

"Vanessa," Abe said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now is not the time to start this again."

"You're right. I should have never stopped."

This time, he let her storm off, and when she looked over her shoulder, he was deep in the middle of things, paying no mind to his hurt, angry daughter. But another pair of eyes tracked her every movement. When she met his gaze, Tommy lifted his hands and tapped his palm with one finger while mouthing the word flash drive.

"What are you doing?" Trixie hissed, shaking him hard. "Van get out of here."

Flipping her trainer the bird, she spun on her heel and broke into a run. She was going home, but only for as long as it took to download the file from her father's computer. The confusion plaguing her was gone. Abe revealed the truth. He was nothing more than a wolf who wore sheep's clothing when it suited him, but she had news for her father. Wolves didn't stand a chance against a pack of panthers.