Spike stopped Buffy just before they entered the living room, their forms still shrouded in the darkness of the kitchen.
You’re nervous, kitten.
She fidgeted and absently stroked the claim mark at the crux of her neck and shoulder; the light touches comforting her. “C-can we talk out loud `til I get used to this mind-meld thingy?”
One side of his mouth turned up in a lop-sided grin at her discomfiture. “Sure, love… whatever you want.”
Relief flooded her face and she closed her eyes. “Thanks. It’s not that I mind you roaming around in my attic, it’s just that I need some time to get used to it… and right now, there are five people in the next room that I need to concentrate on to make them leave. We’ll practice later, okay?” she promised.
He nodded, bringing his arms around her and nuzzling just under her ear. “I’ll go, if it’ll make it easier,” he murmured.
“No!” she quickly pleaded, gripping his arm.
Biting down lightly on his mark to soothe her, he whispered, “Settle down, pet… not goin’ anywhere. Just thought I’d wait on the back porch while you shoo them out.”
Relaxing against him, she sighed. “At least Giles won’t think you’re clouding my judgment because of your presence,” she mused aloud, seeing the wisdom in his words. “I wish there was a way to make him see that I can’t be without you… that I won’t be without you,” she assured in a deadly tone.
“They’ll never take you from me,” he snarled against her temple, his embrace tightening around her.
Turning to face him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her nose against his skin. “I won’t let them.”
Hearing movement in the other room, the blond couple tensed then released each other to go their separate ways for the time being. “This’ll be difficult, won’t it?” she asked in a small voice, watching him head for the backdoor.
Quickly returning to her side, he ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek and smiled. “Not really, love. You could do somethin’… if you want,” he offered.
She tilted her head, curious over his mischievous look. “What exactly?”
A little push… with your thoughts and feelings, he told her through the bond.
Shock rippled through her and he felt her astonishment spark in his body like feather-light touches. God, he’d never get enough of her if that were what she made him feel with only half a claim, his grin growing too wide to hide.
“I-is it a thrall? Can I thrall people now?” she asked in a hushed whisper, twisting her fingers and nervously chewing on her bottom lip.
“Not a true thrall, not one that manipulates others. Just more of a… suggestion,” he explained, hoping she’d at least give it a try because he honestly didn’t see the witch and Watcher leaving of their own accord.
Her expression fell for a brief moment. “Will Giles know what I’m doing… because of what happened with Drusilla?”
It took a moment for Spike to understand what Buffy was referring to, but then comprehension flooded his mind, as he’d totally forgotten that little ‘incident’. “It won’t be an outright thrall. Only vamp I knew could do that was Dru, and she didn’t really need to try, it was inherent in her make-up, I suppose,” he told her, tracing one of her brows with the pad of his thumb. “I never knew she was clairvoyant as a human until some years after she brought me over. I started takin’ notice when a lot of the shite she spouted began to make sense.”
“Am I like her?” she asked very softly, insecurity lacing her voice.
Setting his hands on each side of her face, he made sure she was looking at him when he spoke. “You will never be Drusilla.” He watched her eyes drop in sorrow, so he tightened his grip. “And I’m so bloody grateful you’re not.” Leaning down, he placed a lingering kiss on her forehead. “I could never love her like I love you.”
Clutching the lapels of his shirt, she nuzzled into his kiss, eyes closed. “You’re so close but I feel miles away,” she murmured.
Kissing her lids, he began nipping down her cheek to her chin and then her lips. “Claim’s not complete, pet. I feel you almost fully, but there’s a terrible ache in me that knows you’re near… and it wants you. Fiercely!”
Placing one last kiss at the bottom of his throat, she moved away and drew in a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself. “We’re doing this tonight. I can barely stand to be apart from you, but it also makes me afraid.”
“Of what, pet?”
“Losing any sense of myself. I know I’m a complete and whole person, but right now, my heart makes me feel like half of it has been cut out, like I’m just existing. I can’t keep feeling like that. I won’t.”
He grasped the tips of her fingers and studied them, playing lightly with them. “You’ll always be an individual, Buffy,” he promised quietly. “I would never take that from you. The near panic you feel with my absence will ease once the claim is fully in place… `cause you’ll know and feel where I am.”
She closed her eyes in relief and nodded, smiling. “Just no peeking when I have to… uh, use the bathroom.”
“You’re no fun, Slayer.” Grinning, he tugged on a lock of her hair. He could also see her mind working furiously, weighing options of what she was capable of, before finally voicing her thoughts.
“Would they know I was doing it? I mean, could they feel me suggesting something?”
“I wouldn’t use it too much on Glinda or Demon girl, might make `em a bit cranky,” he said with a roguish gleam in his blue eyes. “Red is another matter altogether. Not sure if you’ll be able to get past her witchy ways just yet, so don’t try it on her. Use it all you want on the Whelp and Watcher, they won’t pick up on it.” As an afterthought, Spike asked, “Go easy on the Whelp, though, yeah? We have an… understandin’.”
Buffy looked at him incredulously. “You’re kidding, right?” The shy duck of his head told her the whole story. “You’ve got a soft spot for Xander! Oh my God, could things get any weirder?” She covered up her giggle with her hand and took pity on him as he began to fidget in earnest, patting him on the arm. “It’s okay, Spike, I think you two will make a great couple!” With that she burst out laughing.
“Sod off! Not like that at all!” He rolled his eyes with a grimace.
Her laughter had not ceased and was becoming infectious as he started chuckling lightly himself. It was also attracting the attention of the group, however, so they stopped when Spike playfully swat her ass, shooing her towards the living room. Pausing at the archway, she turned to see him as he settled himself on the porch steps, leaving the back door open and pulling out a smoke to enjoy. She watched him savor the taste of nicotine and was glad that he would never die from such a nasty habit.
Before heading into the living room, she rearranged her hair to cover the mark that Spike had given her. It would do no amount of good to make the atmosphere in the room that much more tense and seeing proof of half a claim would surely send them over the edge. Sighing heavily, she turned and walked into what would be quite an interesting situation if she were able to get away with it.
~*~
“You do realize they were probably humping in the kitchen, right?” Anya asked Xander, studying her fiancé’s ass as he bent over to look at the remains of the chair Spike had demolished earlier.
Willow spluttered out her tea. “In the kitchen? Where we eat?” she squeaked.
Anya waved her away in annoyance. “Oh, get over it. Kitchen sex is highly erotic. You’ve got all these things you can experiment with, like chocolate syrup and ice cubes, plus there’s always the equipment… like the turkey-baster and-”
“Enough!” Giles snarled, startling everyone. “This foolishness has gotten out of hand.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more,” Willow sided with her old librarian. “I think they just need to be separated and whatever they think they’re feeling will just-”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Xander hissed, rising from the floor with a piece of wood in hand, pointing it at the Brit and his best friend. “What they’re feeling will not go away. If anything, it’ll get stronger, and if you try and keep them from one another you’ll kill them both!”
The redheaded witch crossed her arms and glowered at him. “Since when do you have any insight into what either of them is feeling?”
He tried not to let her jibe hurt, but it must have registered in his eyes, causing his friend to look away in shame. “Since I made an effort to do as Buffy asked and deal with it.”
It was on the tip of Willow’s tongue to say something, but she held back as she noticed Buffy slip into the room, looking extremely flushed.
The blonde girl considered each person in the room silently, finally settling on Xander, her eyebrows rose in question when she noticed the pile of broken wood, fabric and stuffing on the floor.
“I-I, uhm, was just testing the load limit on the chair… I’ll fix it later,” Xander offered, hoping Buffy would buy it.
She didn’t but she wouldn’t let on to it, knowing it was Spike that had crashed the chair thanks to a little hint from Merrick. It was very surreal to see Xander covering up for Spike and she wondered just what kind of bonding these two accomplished in such a short amount of time. Knowing them, it probably involved beer, porn, and pool… in that order.
Everyone’s attention was drawn to Tara, however, when she breathed, “Willow, we need to leave.”
“What? Why? We live here, too,” the redhead complained, sinking further into the couch.
Tears rimming her lashes, the blonde’s eyes never left Buffy’s. “Because we can’t be here tonight.”
Tara knows.
`Course, luv… smart bird, that one.
Getting fed up with the underlying messages that she was missing completely, Willow stood and started to gather energy into her, setting everyone’s teeth on edge with the tangible shift in the atmosphere. “Someone better tell me what’s going on,” she demanded in a low, unearthly tone.
After a few seconds, though, it fizzled to nothing but a minor electrical shock. Staring at her hands in horror, the witch glanced up to see Buffy smirking at her. “What did you do?”
It won’t work on her, right?
Don’t even think it, Buffy. Until she learns control or discipline, she’ll be greedy for power and not even her loved ones will be able to stop her.
“Willful, meddlesome witch,” Anya warned, slowing standing and making her way over to where Xander stood. “Your coven should’ve thrown you out for your blatant disregard for the order of things.”
“I have no coven!” Willow seethed, trying to amass further energy for something truly spectacular.
Anya sniffed with disdain. “Maybe that’s the problem… then you’d learn a few things before foolishly thinking you could bend situations to your will without consequences.”
“D’Hoffryn’s whore!” the redhead shouted and flung her hands towards the ex-demon. “Plasmator suus intorqueo!”
Acting on instinct, Buffy quickly stepped in front of Anya and the spell ricocheted back to Willow, twisting her body painfully as she huddled on the floor. Looking down at the sobbing mess that was her friend, she shook her head in despair.
“Leave.”
“Buffy, I-”
“Tararedimio suus per silentium,” Tara interrupted her girlfriend.
The group’s gaze shifted to the blonde witch as she bent down and laid a hand over Willow’s mouth, making it disappear. She then moved her body with no effort to the couch, sitting her lover upright so she could observe the lesson she was about to receive. Placing both her thumbs in the middle of Willow’s forehead, Tara pressed hard.
“See what she has become.”
Willow screamed inside as if her brain were on fire, the burn making its way from her head throughout her body and back again, only to bring further pain with the bright colors assaulting her. Staring at Buffy, because she couldn’t do otherwise, the colors began to make sense as they flowed and formed around the Slayer’s body.
Sage green was slowly being enveloped by deep, rich lavender, royal blue and gold tingeing the outer shell, mixing like a palette of oil paints ready for the master’s brush. Tears pushed at Willow’s eyes as she beheld something akin to the most beautiful piece of artwork ever hung in any gallery.
“See the love surrounding her?” Tara whispered in her ear, lovingly, gesturing towards the Slayer, encompassing her whole being.
The witch nodded, drawing in a shuddering breath through her nose since her mouth was gone.
Tara stepped into her girlfriend’s line of vision, cutting off her view of Buffy. “You would destroy that,” she stated sadly.
Eyes widening, the redhead shook her head fiercely, wetness dampening her cheeks.
“Yes, you would,” Tara assured her. “Just as surely as you ripped her from Heaven, you would send her back by doing this to her.”
Willow’s eyes darted to each person in the room, finally landing on Buffy’s silent gaze. Her eyes pleaded for forgiveness, as her sobs became a muffled whimper caught in her throat.
“Release her, Tara, I think she has something to say,” Buffy requested quietly.
Nodding, the blonde girl rubbed her hand over Willow’s face, her mouth appearing as she finished. “Dissero.”
Finally free of the binding spell, she bit her lip and admitted, “I-I need help.”
Arms crossed, Buffy nodded for her to continue. “What do you need help with?”
“M-magic. I can’t control it… I’m so angry and I have no right to be, I’m not even unhappy for Freya’s sake!”
Giles, who had been silent up until this point, suggested a possible solution. “There is a coven in England that is strong enough to assist her with learning to control her more ‘passionate’ reactions to things beyond her control.”
“England?” Willow whispered in fear. “I have to go to England?”
“For the initial meeting, yes. They will decide where you should begin after that,” he told her in no uncertain terms.
Panic once again started to surface within the redhead, the shift in energy palpable. “Can Tara come with me?”
Before Giles could answer, Tara gave her own thoughts on the matter. “No, sweetie… this is your journey, not mine. I can’t interfere, but I will be here when you get back, I promise.”
“I’m afraid,” she murmured, tears overflowing. “I can’t do this!” The energy throbbed around her body, her red features bleeding into a hideous black, as she lost control of the vortex within her. Not even Tara could contain it this time.
Everyone in the room backed away from her, including Tara… everyone except Xander, who crept forward and squat down in front of her trembling form. Laying a hand on her knee, he stroked his thumbs in circles, hoping to soothe her.
“Hey there, witchy woman,” he teased lightly, desperate to have her look at him.
Raising her eyes, she stared at him vacantly, devoid of rationality. “Don’t call me that!” she growled.
“You know,” he continued, ignoring her request. “The first day of kindergarten you cried `cause you broke the yellow crayon and you were too afraid to tell anyone. You've come pretty far since then, what with all this being able to float pencils and bring friends back from the dead… you know, everyday power-tripy stuff. But guess what?” He made sure he held her full attention. “I love you. I love crayon-breaky Willow and,” he said, pointing to her current state. “I love scary veiny Willow.”
“Shut up!” she practically screamed, slapping him because he was invading her emotional shield.
He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, feeling the blood well on his cheek from where her nails had scratched him. “Doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “Still love you.”
“No!” she shouted and threw him back with a blast of power, standing in a towering rage.
Others moved to help Xander, but Giles indicated no one was to interfere, so they stayed well out of the way of the arguing friends.
Xander coughed, but staggered back to a standing position, facing his best friend. “I… still love you,” he wheezed.
What’s goin’ on, love?
Stay out there, Spike… Willow and Xander are hashing things out. I’m safe.
You sure? Red can’t touch us…
Please, just… stay there for the time being.
Stubborn bint.
Willow’s wretched scream interrupted Buffy’s next thought, as she flung another spell to disorient Xander. “You can’t! Shut up!”
He was thrown against the wooden archway with an audible crack. Winded, he grabbed hold of the wall and pushed himself up to look at his long time best friend, tears in his eyes. “I love you, Willow,” he whispered.
Buffy had to physically restrain Anya, who was shaking with barely repressed hatred for the redhead, begging with her eyes to let them deal with it. “She won’t kill him,” she promised the ex-demon.
Trying another hex, Willow flung it carelessly, succeeding only in breaking a vase on a corner table. “You can’t love me, I’m screwed up… I’m bad, wrong… look what I did!” she moaned, burying her face in her hands.
Her diverted focus allowed for Xander to grab her and hold on tightly, rocking them both as he pressed kisses to the crown of her hair. “I love you, Willow Rosenberg.”
At his final calming declaration, she fell against him, limp from a massive power drain, her features returning to their once flame-colored glory. She wept as only a person that is sorry for what they’ve become can, her soul emptied as much as her control. They stayed like that for a good long while, Tara smiling at how beautiful the cleansing properties of tears were.
“I want to leave,” Willow rasped, moments later, disengaging herself from Xander.
Nodding, Tara moved to give Buffy a hug, smiling shyly. “We’ll start looking for apartments tomorrow,” she whispered. She looked over the Slayer’s shoulder and grinned fully at Spike’s presence in the kitchen. “Good luck.”
Resisting the urge to giggle, Buffy pursed her lips. I thought I told you to wait outside?
Want you. A wave of primal lust skittered throughout her and she closed her eyes, gasping as her core became wet.
I’m on it.
Opening her eyes, she saw Willow standing before her, a tinge of darkness edging her features. She drew in a shuddering breath and wrapped her arms around Buffy, crushing her in a heartfelt embrace.
“I’m sorry.”
Taking a cue from Xander, Buffy returned the hug. “I love you, too, Willow.”
Pulling back, she smiled hesitantly and rejoined Tara, who was waiting by the door with their purses. Exiting, she looked over her shoulder at her male best friend. “I love you,” she said and disappeared into the night with her lover.
“She’ll need a lot of guidance. How powerful is that coven, Rupert?” Anya asked as she wrapped her arms around an aching Xander.
“Yes, I rather believe she will. I had no idea she’d become so-so… addicted,” Giles admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re the most powerful coven I’ve been exposed to, I’m sure they’ll know how to contain her powers until she can learn to harness them.”
“Ahn, I really need to lay down… she packs quite a wallop,” Xander said, faltering even with her holding him up.
Before Buffy could grab him, Spike swung Xander’s arm over his shoulder, and led him to the couch prior to his collapse. “Easy, mate.”
“This is so totally surreal, you know?” Xander mused, looking between his fiancée and Spike. “Never in a million years would I’ve pegged Dead-boy Junior for the help-the-helpless sort.”
Giles scoffed. “He’s only trying to ingratiate himself with Buffy, Xander. For heaven’s sake, don’t be fooled.”
“Oh, sweet Zeus,” Anya muttered, rolling her eyes. “Here we go again.”
Spike rounded on the Watcher, stalking him until his back was against the banister of the staircase. “Sod. OFF!”
A slight touch to his shoulder stilled Spike before he could attempt anything further. He turned and saw that Buffy was gazing at her Watcher, her eyes iridescent in their beauty and he had to look away or else he would be drawn into her thrall.
“I need some additional information on that scrap of cloth we found, Giles. Do you think you could do some research to find what I need? Like right now?” she asked in a low voice, dripping with honey.
Her voice was hypnotic and full of compulsion, demanding that he fulfill her request without delay. Eyes glazed over, he acquiesced. “Of course, Buffy, I’ll get right on it. It’s a bit late though, so if you could call me with the details tomorrow, I’d be grateful,” he said as he headed for the door, nodding to those in the room. “Good evening.” He glanced over at his Slayer. “I’ll expect your phone call tomorrow then, shall I? Good.” And with that he walked out the front door, heading for home.
Both blonds stood gaping at the door with shocked expressions. Who knew Giles would be so easy to get rid of?
“Well done, love.” Spike congratulated her with a kiss to her temple.
“Don’t ever think of using that on me,” Anya huffed, helping Xander sit upright.
Buffy’s lower lip trembled as she shook her head in the negative. “I promise, I won’t.”
“Okay, I know I’m a bit slow on the uptake, but what the hell just happened there?” Xander asked, shakily getting to his feet.
Anya rolled her eyes and sighed, feeling as if she was explaining something to a child as she swept her hand in the blonde girl’s direction. “Seems one of her acquired abilities is thrall… but she’s not too good at it.”
“Oi! She was doing the best she could! She’s never attempted it before,” Spike defended his mate.
“Well it was noticeable, forced, and sloppy,” Anya said as she ticked off Buffy’s errors on her fingers.
Spike neared her and growled. “You think you can do better?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, when I had my powers.”
A smirk graced his lips. “Then it stands to reason you should be the one to teach her how to use it.”
“Me? What’s wrong with you?”
“I can’t thrall for shit. You say you’re the best, so Buffy gets the best to instruct her.”
“I never said I was the best! I just said I was better,” Anya corrected.
Xander snickered. “Oh come on, Ahn… be Buffy’s Jedi instructor.”
The blond vamp laughed and waggled his eyebrows at the ex-demon. “Yes, Obi-Ahn Kenobi… teach her the ways of The Thrall.”
“Only if you promise not to take Xander to any cheap pool-halls and thereby bilking him out of his hard-earned cash,” she countered with a glare.
Spike held up three fingers while keeping two crossed behind his back. “Scout’s honor.”
“You probably ate the scout,” Buffy giggled.
“He was a bit gamey, yeah,” the vamp mused, reaching into this back pocket to pull out a white envelope and pressed it into her hands.
“What’s this?” she asked, looking down at the beautiful script in the form of her name, weighing the bulk in her hands.
He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was sittin’ propped up on the stoop outside. Figured you’d left it there by accident.”
Shaking her head, she realized there was something more than a letter inside, but unsure as to what it might be. She had a sneaking suspicion who it was from, but she didn’t want to reveal that little bit of information just yet. “We’ll open it later… when they leave,” she whispered.
“Which we’re about to do,” Xander grunted, poking his arms through the sleeves of his coat. “I’ve been told I need to educate a certain someone about what a lightsaber is capable of.”
Spike covered his mouth to keep from laughing. “They glow in the dark, pet,” he told Anya.
Her eyes widened. “Really? Oh, Xander… can we get a blue one? That way I can find you when our electric goes out on stormy nights!”
Maneuvering his fiancée to the door, Xander groused over his shoulder, “If you weren’t already dead, I’d finish the job.”
“Don’t you just love male posturing?” Anya squealed as she and Xander exited the door.
Buffy snickered, leaning back against her vamp. “Those two are definitely made for each other.”
Resting his chin on top of her head, he nodded. “He’d better marry her, she’s a valuable bird.”
Turning in his arms, she looked up at him and pouted. “Am I a ‘valuable bird’?”
Leaning down, he brushed a kiss over his mark, trying to suffuse her with importance and security. “There is no price I would not willingly pay for the slightest of your touches, love.”
Threading her fingers through the hair at his nape, she buried her nose at the curve of his neck. “Then I want you to pay the highest price and make me yours.”
His grip on her hips tightened and he purred into her ear. “As you wish.”
~*~
Cool wind brushed against Giles’ face, waking him from his stupor as he realized he was half way to his flat with no memory of how he’d gotten here. One moment, he was standing in his Slayer’s living room contemplating ways of getting rid of the pain in their backsides, and the next he was walking on a street not far from home in a complete daze.
Bloody Hell! The whole situation reeked of the intrusive blond tosser. Turning back the way he’d come, the Watcher decided he would settle this whole mess himself, completely severing Buffy’s ties to the peroxide menace.
“I can’t let you do that, Rupert.”
The Brit froze in mid-stride as a low voice penetrated his single-minded thoughts. Slowly, he turned to confront the intruder, but came face to face with… nothing. Scanning the shadows for any threats, he found nothing but an unnerving, chilly sense of foreboding. Shrugging it off, he continued on his path back to Buffy’s house.
“Never were one to listen, boy.”
A painful blow to his left cheek sent him flying backwards to land against a tree, his glasses disappearing, as he collapsed at the base in a crumpled heap. Shaking his head to clear it, he scrambled to a semi-standing position, squinting into the darkness.
“Who the hell is there?” he yelled.
“Arrogant prat!”
Another hit had his head cracking against the pavement, making him see stars. Pain blossomed across his cheek and into his eye, clouding his vision. Struggling, he pushed himself up to lean against the trunk of a nearby oak tree.
“Show yourself, you shapeless thug!” Giles shouted as he sought the night for a face to match the menacing voice floating in the air. Once again, he saw nothing, not even a shadow or a breeze disturbing the atmosphere.
“For as intelligent as you claim to be, you’re also an insufferable fool,” the voice said closer to his ear with a bit of snort.
“I insist you at least show yourself!”
Deep laughter echoed all around him in answer to his demand. “You’re not in a position to insist anything.”
Sweat began to bead the Watcher’s brow, his normal cool and collected behavior quickly fading. “What do you want?” he whispered, glancing all around him for the unseen adversary.
“You’ve lost your calm patience, my friend,” the voice taunted, an octave lower and more deadly. “Exactly when did that happen, hmm? Was it the first time she died… or the second?”
The blood drained from Giles’ face as he searched in vain for the entity who knew entirely too much. “Bloody hell… who are you?” he demanded once more, exasperation tingeing his voice.
A mist started to coalesce off to his right, forming the figure of a man who began walking towards him. “I’m here to rectify certain mistakes I made to a young lady.”
Giles gasped as he watched the older gentleman approach, the brown trench coat and Fedora hat having faded considerably since he had last seen him. The goatee was a bit rougher around the edges and the boots hinted at having been just polished. Trying to find purchase on the trunk of the tree, he then slid down into a slumped position, mouth agape.
“Good God… Merrick,” Giles breathed.
Merrick crouched down in front of him, smiling slightly and harrumphing as he gestured widely. “In the incorporeal flesh.” He saw the younger man’s look of fear and eased back a bit, but kept close enough to make his presence strongly felt.
“What-what do you want with me?” he asked fearfully.
Merrick tsk’d in disappointment as he stood and walked away from the Watcher, seeing his discomfiture ease a tad. “I would’ve thought that evident, Rupert,” he said into the night, not bothering to look back.
“Well, since I asked the question, apparently it’s not that evident to me!” he ground out, tired of being strung along by a ghostly apparition.
Giles was suddenly hurled several feet in the air, dangling by an unseen force. He tried grasping onto something, but pressure began to build around this throat as his breathing was slowly cut off.
“Hold your tongue, young man, unless you can be civil,” Merrick intoned coldly.
“Can’t… breathe!”
“The more I think on it, the more I have come to believe that you were the wrong choice for Buffy,” the grizzled man observed conversationally, watching as Giles turned blue. Seeing that the man was starting to lose consciousness, he released his burden to drop to the ground.
Coughing harshly, he panted between breaths. “No! Y-you can’t… say that!” he said disbelievingly. “I’ve taught her everything that has mattered to the Slayers!”
Merrick raised his eyebrows in question. “Did you now?”
“You know I have. I’ve instilled in her the knowledge of vampire extermination and-”
“My God, have you heard yourself lately? I agree that you educated her in demon lore and metaphysics… it’s why I encouraged your appointment to her; no one had a better library. But her physical and emotional training are sadly lacking.”
“I trained with her,” he defended himself, finally able to stand straight. “As for her emotional health, I-”
“She’s died twice, Rupert,” he clipped out. “That would take a toll on anyone, let alone a young girl. You also forgot the most important part about this particular Slayer,” he admonished as he turned to face Giles, glaring at him in an unforgiving manner. “Buffy had a life before becoming a Slayer, and she still has one. Trying to make that poor girl choose between both of her lives is tearing her apart. The moment she tries to combine the two, you and her friends manage to… well, to put it rather delicately… bollixed it all up. Ahem.”
Shocked at the brash comment from the normally quiet man, Giles took a moment to absorb all that Merrick had said. Even from the beginning, he knew Buffy would be different from the other Slayers, as she had tried to deny everything that was in her, scared out of her mind. She’d initially rejected the notion that she had any powers at all, and not for the first time did Giles wonder why that was since most Slayers knew and accepted the powers once they were chosen.
After a long silence, Giles asked, “Merrick, why was Buffy not identified until after she gained her powers?”
“Oh,” the older man chuckled out loud. “If you could have seen her in the beginning, you’d understand. Completely out of touch with her surroundings other than what fashion was in or out. A bubble-gum blowing, hair primping, innocuous, sarcastic teen-ager was not what the Council had in mind for the next Slayer.”
“Bloody Council,” Rupert muttered.
“Hmm, yes… it seems they were keeping a close eye on Faith actually,” he explained. “She was more fitting to the Slayer duties with no family, hardened, cold, distant… all the things Buffy is not.”
Giles nodded mutely, agreeing with him about Faith. “But you trained with her in LA… why was she so-” he gestured wildly, unable to find the right words. “-so unprepared when she came to Sunnydale?”
A deeply miserable expression crossed the older gentlemen’s face and he looked away from the younger Watcher. “They… ahem.” He choked, tears caught in his throat. “Her parents, they… well a Slayer’s not supposed to have family for this reason.” He swiped at a stray tear that had leaked from the corner of his eye. “They didn’t believe her when she tried to tell them about the vampires and demons, and the true explanation of what happened at her old high school did nothing but enrage her father, her mother getting caught up in the wake of his fury. They decided to put her in a mental institution for a few weeks,” he said quietly, more tears gathering as he dwelled on the injustice of the situation Buffy’d found herself in.
“That can’t be!” Giles gasped in astonishment. “They actually put her in a mental asylum to do what exactly? To make her believe that these things, these vampires she was slaying were just a figment of her imagination?”
“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” Merrick agreed.
“Good Lord… the poor girl,” he muttered, wiping his face with his hand.
It explained so much in retrospect… the sheer terror on Buffy’s face when he handed her the book on vampires, the reluctance to train, and the constant state of denial. Even now she was trying desperately to have a normal life, like the one that was expected of her, the one that had apparently been implanted into her psyche at a fragile age.
At Angel’s insistence, Riley became her single attempt at what others considered normal, the relationship ending in disaster when he realized Buffy wasn’t satisfied with just an ordinary guy. If Riley was normal, it was no shock to see she preferred abnormal relationships, though she clung to some false notion that everyone expected her to have a nice, safe connection while slaying every night.
“She’s more powerful than other Slayers before her, isn’t she?” he asked for confirmation.
Hands clasped behind his back, Merrick looked over his shoulder at his young friend. Dare he give him a taste of the future, to see what his charge was capable of? He supposed, in the end, it really didn’t matter if he told him certain ‘facts’ about the girl. “A different Slayer line began with Buffy’s resurrection, a more potent and lethal one.”
“There will be repercussions,” Giles stated with conviction, not bothering to look at Merrick for affirmation.
He nodded anyway. “Vampires especially will be drawn to her like never before. The scent of her death will always linger, acting as a magnet for the undead, master vamps in particular. William has his work cut out for him.”
Instead of thinking of Spike as the sole cause of all his current ills, Giles pictured the blond idiot next to Buffy for the foreseeable future, finding no difficulty in doing so. In all fairness, Spike was the closest thing to a stable relationship that Buffy was going to have. He knew her, knew what she was and what she was capable of, and beyond that… he loved her. Shame crept up his spine when he thought of the drivel he’d been feeding Buffy about vampires needing a soul to love, cringing as he looked at his mangled wrist, knowing he’d just received a little reminder and not a full-out threat she would no doubt use the next time he was imprudent enough to oppose Spike’s presence in her life.
Brows furrowing, Giles came to the unwelcome understanding that he had caused most of the pain he’d seen in his Slayer’s eyes, and it hit him hard. His frame shook as his head hung low, the sobs pouring out of him.
“And I had the audacity to call Willow a rank, arrogant amateur,” he garbled with self-loathing. “God, how indescribably foolish I am.”
The older Watcher watched as his friend came to a crashing realization within his conscience. Taking pity on the younger man, Merrick crouched down in front of him again and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We’ve all done irrational things in the name of love, dear friend. I know you love the girl like a daughter. That’s why I chose you, to give her what I couldn’t but she so desperately needed. ”
His sobs grew harder and he laid his head into his hands, weeping in earnest. “I wasn’t supposed to love her, you know. They were prepared to take her from me, you should’ve asked for someone else,” he said haltingly.
Patting his back, he helped Giles to stand up then brushed dead leaves off him. “Now that is a foolish statement indeed, old chap. I knew she would love you as you love her. And I honestly don’t think she would’ve gotten this far without your guidance. Take comfort in that.”
Rupert looked at his mentor with dawning comprehension and smiled hesitantly. “What happens now?”
“She’s been given a chance with someone that loves her dearly, irrevocably, without thought of his own person. I suggest you let her have that chance without grief and reservation. I strongly suggest it,” Merrick forced the last thought. “William can go where you can not.”
He nodded and scrubbed his eyes of the remaining tears. “I understand, of course.”
“Good, because I dislike repeat performances. My one-time advice should be sufficient, don’t you agree?” Merrick raised his eyebrows in question.
Nodding mutely, he looked down the street towards Buffy’s house. “Should I apologize tonight?”
“Heavens, no!” Merrick laughed, shaking his head. “She has enough to deal with tonight without having to worry about your blunderings, dear fellow. Try in a couple days when they’re up and about. The younger girl will be back by then and she can intercede if a problem arises. Hopefully that won’t happen… will it?” he asked sternly.
“Give me time, Merrick. It’s hard changing a lifetime of indoctrination.”
“Hmm, well… just don’t give her cause to use her ‘abilities’ any more than need be. She feels enough guilt as it is for that suggestive thrall episode, don’t force her hand again.”
Smiling in amazement, Giles chuckled. “Our Slayer has the use of thrall… how utterly remarkable,” he said in wonder.
Warmth suffused Merrick at his comment, that Buffy was their Slayer. He definitely planned to keep tabs on this particular bit of mischief.
“She’s quite amazing, isn’t she, Rupert?” he mused aloud as he started to fade into the night.
“That she is, Merrick… that she is,” Giles agreed.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Many thanks to my busy beta (Tina) and my under the weather beta (Mari). Thanks gals, you are lifesavers.
Sorry it has taken a bit to update this, but I’ve been writing like mad on lots of things. My next chapter for Hunter’s Bane is more than halfway done, so look for that soon, as well!
Only one more chapter left on this, YAY! And then I’ll be done on this one! *wipes forehead*
Thank you for all your reviews, I truly appreciate them!
Some dialogue taken from the episode "Grave."
Sorry it has taken a bit to update this, but I’ve been writing like mad on lots of things. My next chapter for Hunter’s Bane is more than halfway done, so look for that soon, as well!
Only one more chapter left on this, YAY! And then I’ll be done on this one! *wipes forehead*
Thank you for all your reviews, I truly appreciate them!
Some dialogue taken from the episode "Grave."
Chapter End Notes:
Only one chapter left on this and Hunter's Bane update next!