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I've been thinking a lot about my father lately. No, not him. (Though him, too, he's sort of a permanent fixture on my mind.) The one who raised me. Daniel Holtz. Because here's a funny thing: both memory sets I have make me believe in nurture versus nature, with nurture winning. At least it should. And he raised me for seventeen years. I loved him. I still do. But if you ask me about his legacy, about what I inherited from him, about what is still there?
There is the entire destiny thing, obviously, aka the task I failed at doing and won't do now, let's be honest. The whole reason why he went to such lengths to get me. He came to love me later, I know he did. But. As a child, I never wondered about the details, how that whole "God gave you to me" went down exactly, but I know now, and I know my father. What he must have thought first when he saw that baby who wasn't me yet, because it was not yet his son, was that finally, here was his chance to having vengeance, true vengeance.
Despite what his enemies thought, my father wasn't all about vengeance, though. He taught me his beliefs. There was good, there was evil. A man's task was to strive for good, protect the weak, fight against evil. Since we were in a hell dimension, striving for good meant trying to survive, protecting the weak meant first him protecting me and then me protecting him as I grew older and realised I was stronger than he was, physically, even though I was a child, and fight against evil meant fighting against anyone else. Easy. Then I left Quor'Toth, and everything turned upside down. Who was good and who was evil kept changing and was harder and harder to see. I still wanted to fight, but even I had to clue into the fact that might have been more about violence being in my nature - that word again. Though maybe as well because that was always the thing I could rely on being good at. As for protecting the weak, well, he died within forty eight hours of our arrival in Los Angeles, and he died because of me. I could protect the occasional victim a vampire was after, but my track record always was better with strangers. People I cared about? Usually followed suit and either died or went through hell because of me.
My father believed in discipline and patience. Which was one big reason why he survived in a hell dimension stuck with a baby. He had those virtues, and he tried to teach them to me. It worked, in as much as I used them when hunting and trapping my quarry. Or in the tracking game, when he tied me to a tree and disappeared so I could practice my skills and find him. But my father was also patient and disciplined when it came to other people, and well, we all know I wasn't before the mindwipe. I try to be now, but again, not exactly with great success.
So what part of his legacyhaven't I betrayed is still there, with me, in me? Life, first of all. He kept me alive against all the odds, and nobody who hasn't lived where we did can really understand how heroic that was. He did not have any superpowers, he didn't have any magical gifts, and he wasn't young even then. He had no one to help him at all until I was old enough to fight. But he didn't just survive himself, he kept me alive. It's because of him that I'm still walking around these days, just as much as it is because of my other parents.
And he knew living and fighting wasn't enough. That's another thing his enemies don't get about him. He always knew you have to hope for something more than win the next fight, live another day, or even the utter defeat of the one you hate. That's why there was one story all through my life with him which wasn't about Angelus and Darla, or about his dead family, or about duty and destiny. It was my favourite story, and it was about where we were supposed to live. In a place called Utah, on a ranch. Together. My father had never seen Utah, and nor had I, then; later I found out Utah had been Justine's choice, but I hadn't know that then. He might as well have called it Oz. Or just "home'". The name didn't matter. What mattered to me was that this was the place where you could go after fighting the monsters, with the monsters staying outside. Where you'd just be with the person you loved, and they would be with you. You wouldn't share struggles for survival, you'd share breakfeast, and when you listened to their breathing and their heartbeast, it wouldn't be because you're afraid they would die, but just because.
My father had that dream, and he gave it to me. It was the best of his gifts, and I have it still.
There is the entire destiny thing, obviously, aka the task I failed at doing and won't do now, let's be honest. The whole reason why he went to such lengths to get me. He came to love me later, I know he did. But. As a child, I never wondered about the details, how that whole "God gave you to me" went down exactly, but I know now, and I know my father. What he must have thought first when he saw that baby who wasn't me yet, because it was not yet his son, was that finally, here was his chance to having vengeance, true vengeance.
Despite what his enemies thought, my father wasn't all about vengeance, though. He taught me his beliefs. There was good, there was evil. A man's task was to strive for good, protect the weak, fight against evil. Since we were in a hell dimension, striving for good meant trying to survive, protecting the weak meant first him protecting me and then me protecting him as I grew older and realised I was stronger than he was, physically, even though I was a child, and fight against evil meant fighting against anyone else. Easy. Then I left Quor'Toth, and everything turned upside down. Who was good and who was evil kept changing and was harder and harder to see. I still wanted to fight, but even I had to clue into the fact that might have been more about violence being in my nature - that word again. Though maybe as well because that was always the thing I could rely on being good at. As for protecting the weak, well, he died within forty eight hours of our arrival in Los Angeles, and he died because of me. I could protect the occasional victim a vampire was after, but my track record always was better with strangers. People I cared about? Usually followed suit and either died or went through hell because of me.
My father believed in discipline and patience. Which was one big reason why he survived in a hell dimension stuck with a baby. He had those virtues, and he tried to teach them to me. It worked, in as much as I used them when hunting and trapping my quarry. Or in the tracking game, when he tied me to a tree and disappeared so I could practice my skills and find him. But my father was also patient and disciplined when it came to other people, and well, we all know I wasn't before the mindwipe. I try to be now, but again, not exactly with great success.
So what part of his legacy
And he knew living and fighting wasn't enough. That's another thing his enemies don't get about him. He always knew you have to hope for something more than win the next fight, live another day, or even the utter defeat of the one you hate. That's why there was one story all through my life with him which wasn't about Angelus and Darla, or about his dead family, or about duty and destiny. It was my favourite story, and it was about where we were supposed to live. In a place called Utah, on a ranch. Together. My father had never seen Utah, and nor had I, then; later I found out Utah had been Justine's choice, but I hadn't know that then. He might as well have called it Oz. Or just "home'". The name didn't matter. What mattered to me was that this was the place where you could go after fighting the monsters, with the monsters staying outside. Where you'd just be with the person you loved, and they would be with you. You wouldn't share struggles for survival, you'd share breakfeast, and when you listened to their breathing and their heartbeast, it wouldn't be because you're afraid they would die, but just because.
My father had that dream, and he gave it to me. It was the best of his gifts, and I have it still.
