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CHAPTER 7 --

A/N: Soundtrack songs for this chapter describe Giles’ and Spike’s feelings about what happened to Jenny. And Songgal -- thanks for the lyrics and keep ‘em coming -- they’re great and will be showing up at the beginning of future chapters!




So just tell me what I should do
I left everything for you
And I can't hardly breathe
'Cause I know I lost you from my world
From my...
- “She’s” Ryan Cabrera




Spike stood in his black suit.

It was sunny outside.

It shouldn’t be sunny.

The rain should fall and the clouds should hide the light in anger and the angels should weep.

Earth has lost it’s very own heavenly creature.

Jenny Giles is dead.

As he stood in one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries, staring at his mother’s coffin suspended over a six foot ditch, he was painfully aware of every whisper floating over the gravesite. “Drunk driver,” “died instantly,” “those poor boys,” were among the most common.

A multitude of people had laid their hands comfortingly on his shoulder as the ceremony progressed. Spike didn’t feel or acknowledge a single one of them. His father, who stood on his right, was left to accept the words of regret and sadness.

But Spike didn’t feel sadness. No, he’d been feeling sadness for the past week. Now, all he was able to feel was pure anger. He couldn’t take one more person telling him that he or she was “sorry” for his mum’s death. Why the fuck were they sorry? They hadn’t mulled her down with a Range Rover while too drunk to recite the fucking alphabet and lived.

No, none of the people here at the funeral had killed her.

But someone had.

Spike stood in front of his mother’s mahogany coffin. It looked like his desk at the office. The constant feeling of rising bile in his throat had not ceased. His eyes were fixed on the place on the coffin where his mother’s face would be. Spike closed his eyes, both imprinting the scene on his brain and trying to forget it at the same time.

A large bouquet of daisies, her favorite, rested on the coffin. A large red bow held them together -- “Loving Wife and Mother” it read. Like that could fucking sum up all of who Jenny Giles was.

She was so much more than that.

So much more.

A form came to stand beside him. He didn’t have to turn his head to see who it was -- he knew. The gentle wave of vanilla that hit him was enough.

Spike’s eyes narrowed, “Who was it?” He asked just above a whisper.

She tried to act dumb, but the fake conviction didn’t reach her somber face, “Who was who?”

“The driver, Buffy” he ground out, “Who was it?”

Buffy hesitated, “William . . .”

“I know that everyone knows and isn’t telling me. It’s all they talked about for a bloody week, I’m sure.” Angry tears threatened to streak his face. “And don’t tell me I don’t want to know because I bloody well do.” His voice was dangerous, threatening.

Buffy glanced around them. The emotional ceremony had ended and people were returning to their cars. A handful still littered the graveyard, paying their respects. She was afraid to give him the information of who killed his mother, having a fairly certain idea of what he would do with it in his state. And it frightened her a little bit.

She wouldn’t have hesitated so much to tell the name to William. But this was “Spike” she was dealing with now, which he insisted on reminding her and everyone else of at every opportunity.

But it seemed Spike, unlike her William, was incapable of taking no for an answer. And that scared her more.

His eyes bore into her and she caved, “Riley Finn,” she spoke, bracing herself for his reaction.

“Fucking bastard,” he growled, storming off.

“William!” Buffy chased after him. Running, she caught up to him. Grabbing his arm, she turned him around. His hands were shaking in silent rage. “You can’t do anything to him that the cops haven’t already.”

“Yes I can,” he replied simply, removing her hand from his arm getting into his car. “I can kill him.”



She said she loved me, but she had somewhere to go
She couldn't scream while I held her close
I swore I'd never let her go
Tell me what you wanna know
Oh come on, oh come on, oh come on
There ain't no motive for this crime
Jenny was a friend of mine
So come on, oh come on, oh come on

I know my rights, I've been here all day and it's time
For me to go, so let me know if it's alright
I just can't take this, I swear I told you the truth
She couldn't scream while I held her close
I swore I'd never let her go
- “Jenny Was A Friend of Mine” The Killers


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .



William shuffled quickly down he hallway away from his locker, determined to get to Geometry without incident.

Hearing the crowd of students in front of him and seeing the group part dutifully further up the hallway, William became fairly certain his goal would not be achieved.

Down the hall they strode, their letterman jackets side to side. Riley Finn and his cronies Graham Miller and Forrest Gates.

William made the fatal mistake of putting his head further parallel to the ground, trying the “If I don’t see them, they won’t see me” mentality. But that only succeeded in pissing them off. But if he had stood there by the lockers, dutifully waiting for their beating, it would only amuse them. Either way, the results would have been the same.

“Hey, Giles,” Finn slide up next to him, grabbing him around the neck more roughly than what was necessary.

“Captain Cardboard,” William replied under his breath.

Forrest halted, “Wait, what did you just call him?”

“I think he just called you a name,” Graham told his friend.

“And just where do you get off, Giles?” Riley asked, pushing him into the rowof lockers behind him. “You got nothing. Except that hot girlfriend of yours. Maybe I should give her a go myself. I doubt you got nothing good for her.”

“I doubt he even had the balls to fuck her yet,” Gates spat, eliciting laughs from his friends.

William’s face was hot with anger, “You just shut up. You’re not good enough to even speak her name.”

If he hadn’t been facing away from them, he was sure they would have ripped the glasses off his face like they usually did. Instead, they settled for throwing his books out of his hands and punching him in the stomach.

Chuckling, the group continued on down the hall, leaving Will crumpled on the floor.

Maybe he should go to the library. Going to see his dad in the library was always a safe haven. He suspected that not one of those stupid lugs even knew where the library was.

Thinking of his father caused his self-esteem issues to surface. He must be such a disappointment. Couples have sons in hope that they’ll be strong. Stand up for themselves. Be the type of strapping young man that parent’s dream of.

His mum and dad had done nothing to lead him to that conclusion, but how could they not help but wish from someone better? They had always supported him in all his endeavors, but even William couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between his parents a couple nights ago.

Through the thin walls separating his bedroom from that of his parents, Will had heard his father express his desire for Will to stick up for himself more. His mum had told his dad that he had always been a “sensitive boy” and asked him if he would prefer some sort of dumb jock for a son. His father had replied of course he didn’t, but showed concern for Will’s ability to survive in the world with no one to watch out for him. Jenny said that Will had survived this far, and would do just fine. Giles had told her to stop coddling her son and maybe he would learn on his own.

His mother had come into Will’s room after the argument, had seen the tears on his face.

Now, as he crouched down on the floor, trying to gather his books as passing students kicked them away from him, he looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway of her classroom, watching him with an encouraging smile on her face.

“Well, well, what is this?” a voice teased flirtatiously. William pivoted on his heels, to find himself at the feet of his angel, who was waving a peace of paper that she had picked up off the floor at him.

“Hey, missy, mitts off. That one’s not finished yet,” he swiped the unfinished poem out of Buffy’s hands.

“Oh, come on, Will,” she pleaded sweetly. “You promised.”

“On your birthday,” he replied, getting up from the floor.

She opened her mouth to further object, but was interrupted by Willow and Xander.

“Hey, Buffster, Will, what’s going on guys?” Xander joined them in their trek to class.

“Will won’t show me his poem. It’s about me you know, that should give me some sort of artistic license over the thing,” Buffy pouted. “I’m his . . .” she trailed off, looking at her boyfriend, “what was it again?”

“My muse, sweetheart” he finished, relieving her of her books and slipping his hand into hers.

“Yeah, his muse, so I say I should get to see it whenever I want,” she stated her case to Willow. William squeezed her hand, and Buffy turned, giving him a beautiful smile.

How in God’s green earth such an angel had deemed him worthy of her attention was beyond him. But he had decided long ago not to question such a gift and vowed to move heaven and earth to make her happy.

TBC





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