Pretending
By She's a Star
Disclaimer: Buffy's the property of Joss Whedon.
Author's Note: Wow. Haven't written about Giles and Jenny in quite awhile. I sat down to attempt to write a Fred/Wes fic, and . . . did not get a Fred/Wes fic at all. Instead, there was this. Which is, admittedly, slightly pointless, and set shortly after 'Innocence.'
What a challenge, honesty;
What a struggle to learn to speak.
Who would've thought that pretending was easier?
-Only Love by Heather Nova
Things fell apart very quickly, Giles decided.
Buffy was quiet; unnervingly so. He found that he missed her chatter and endlessly mystifying pop culture references, something that he wouldn't have thought possible. Willow and Xander appeared to have had some sort of falling out, as they'd been terse around one another lately. And Jenny, when he saw her – far less often than he'd have liked to – looked exhausted. He supposed losing her uncle had been hard on her, and he certainly couldn't blame her. Everyone was hurting, to be sure, but no one else had had to face death. Not in the strictest sense, at least. Though what had happened to Angel must have been far worse than death to Buffy. To all of them.
There was a stack of pictures on his desk – Jenny's. Buffy had dragged everyone to the fair two weeks before, insisting that it was a pre-birthday present. Giles had been . . . reluctant, to say the least.
"Giles, we're going. Come on. Aren't you always saying that we need to spend more quality Watcher-Slayer time together?"
"No. I don't believe I've ever said that in my life, actually."
"Well, then aren't you always saying that you'd love nothing more than a day of cotton-candy-and-rollercoaster-filled fun?"
"No—"
"Ms. Calendar already said she'd go."
". . .Well, all right."
He smiled a little as he stared at the first photograph – Jenny, Willow, and Buffy beamed up at him, while Xander stood in the back and, quite the picture of maturity, fixed his fingers into bunny ears behind Buffy and Willow's heads.
Yes, things fell apart very quickly.
The library doors swung open, and the sound of chattering students immediately filled the air. He stepped out of his office to see a class coming in; Willow was among them, and a very familiar voice could be heard from the back of the group.
"Okay, guys," Jenny said. "This is a quiet study hall. Which basically means that you can do homework, pass notes, whatever, just as long as it's quiet. We don't want to give Mr. Giles a migraine."
The class immediately dispersed throughout the library, still chattering lightly. Giles smirked a bit, and couldn't help but feel very grateful that he was a librarian rather than a teacher.
Jenny stood uncertainly in the doorway for a moment, and he remembered, quite suddenly, that he no longer had any business talking to her. Buffy's needs were the most important at the moment, and if she felt that Jenny deserved to be excluded for lying to them, then he would support his Slayer completely.
But that didn't change the fact that doing so made him miserable.
She didn't look particularly cheerful either. There were circles under her eyes, and he noted that she hadn't bothered with makeup that morning. Against his will, he thought back to the days after she'd been possessed by Eyghon. God. Perhaps he'd been a fool to think that things could finally be all right between them again.
She looked over at him, and their eyes met. Immediately, his gaze fell to the stack of books he needed to check in, and he picked up a copy of Les Misérables, studying it with utmost concentration. He hated this.
He checked the book in, punching in the identity number on the computer and trying not to think about the fact that she'd been the one to corrupt his beloved library with modern technology in the first place. Things had seemed much easier then, back when she'd simply been a very attractive colleague who'd alternatively driven him mad and caused him to be something eerily akin to smitten. Before they'd found out the truth. Of course she was a gypsy sent to keep Buffy apart from the love of her life. The way things went around here, it simply couldn't have been any other way. Simplicity was apparently nonexistent in Sunnydale.
"Hey."
He looked up to see her standing at the counter, a weak half-smile playing around her mouth.
"Hello," he replied curtly, looking back at the computer screen. His heart seemed to be pounding much more violently than usual, and he felt a sneaking suspicion that he might be sick. It seemed that there was no way he'd make it through all of this without going mad.
"How are you?"
He found he couldn't bring himself to look at her. Reaching for Pride and Prejudice, he responded, "As well as circumstances permit. You?"
"I've been better." She sighed, and leaned in a little closer. He caught the scent of her perfume, and it threw him for a moment. "How are things with Angelus?"
"He has yet to strike," he replied, as impassively as he could, and wished she would disappear. His resolve to remain loyal to Buffy's decisions weakened every time she was around, and he feared that if she were here five minutes longer, he wouldn't be able to resist apologizing to her, and yet more drama would come to pass. Either that, or he might lean right across the counter and kiss her, and he doubted that the library full of students would receive that particularly well.
"You know," she said delicately, "If you ever need any help, I could . . . my people have seen what he can do before, and maybe that could—"
"That won't be necessary," Giles cut in, hating the edge to his voice. He took a moment to compose himself, then continued, more calmly, "Buffy has proven herself able to face the worst of odds on more than one occasion. I'm certain that we can devise a way to stop this, and there's no need for you to get tangled up in it."
Jenny was quiet for a moment, and he felt slightly sickened. He hated the idea that he was hurting her. She didn't deserve to be hurt; not right now. Not after she'd just lost someone. Yes, she'd lied, but—
Don't, he lectured himself. Don't begin to think like this.
He looked up at her and hoped that it wasn't apparent in his countenance how much this was tearing him apart.
She gave him another tired smile. "Scary, huh?"
"What?" he asked, caught off-guard.
"I know I'm making this whole look-like-crap thing into an art form," she said wryly, "but try not to be too impressed."
Without thinking, he replied, "You're always beautiful."
Her features immediately softened, and he felt very, very tempted to retrieve a crossbow from the weapons cabinet and inflict a bit of damage upon himself.
"Rupert," she said quietly, and reached across the counter. Her hand came to rest upon his for a moment before he pulled away.
Adapting the most professional tone he could muster, he said, "If you don't mind, I'd rather you took your class elsewhere. I have some business to attend to; I'll be closing the library early."
Jenny looked stricken for a moment, but covered it quickly. He wasn't usually one for maudlin sentiments, but if he were, he would have claimed his heart had broken a bit at that moment.
"Sure," she said easily, and shrugged a little. Then she turned away and announced, "Change of plans. We're heading back to the classroom. It looks like we'll be able to get a start on that new coding project today after all."
A collective chorus of groans filled the air, and the students began to gather up their things. Giles saw Willow watching them intently as she picked up her books.
He went back to work as the class filed out, focusing very hard on not listening to Jenny's voice as she informed a protesting student that it was better for them to start working on the project in advance.
"Giles?"
Willow was standing at the counter, her face worried and downcast.
"Willow," he said, composedly as he could. "Hello."
"Don't be too hard on her, all right?" Willow requested, her voice small and childlike. "This is hard for her, too."
Giles paused for a moment before responding, "If Buffy wishes for us to-"
"I know," Willow cut in. "I get it. Ms. Calendar's out of the Scooby Gang. But . . . she cares about you."
Giles glanced at Jenny, still in conversation – or rather, what looked to be an impending argument – with the student.
"I know," he said, and suddenly felt very, very tired. "I . . . I care about her as well."
Willow stared sadly at him.
"But," he continued, more sharply, "we must respect Buffy's wishes above all else right now, and I . . ."
He found himself at a loss for words, and instead reached for another book. He didn't bother to check the title this time – it suddenly didn't seem particularly important.
"Things will get better," Willow softly assured him. He couldn't help but want to believe her; she sounded both so childishly hopeful and so wise all at once, and he could only wish . . .
He watched as she disappeared out the door with the rest of her class. Jenny went last, and paused for a moment to look back at him. She opened her mouth, as though prepared to say something, but then seemed to change her mind and stepped out into the hall.
The door swung closed, and he was alone again. The silence was very still, almost overwhelmingly so, and as he checked in another book – Where Angels Fear To Tread, there was no use in not paying attention – he thought that he could get quite tired of it.