Chapter 20

Resentment, and Dealings with the Devil

When Methos pulled up outside of Joyce's house, the first thing he noticed was that the outside light was on. And the second thing that he noticed was that Joyce herself was standing on the front porch, with her arms crossed her chest, and an annoyed, worried scowl on her face. She looked as though she had been standing there for quite some time.

As Buffy spotted her there she winced, and looked up briefly, towards Adam, before lowering her head and climbing slowly out of the car, as though she were attempting to prolong the time between moving from one rough situation, into another. Which was actually quite likely to be the case.

As she saw her daughter climb out of the car with all of her limbs intact, the concern faded, leaving only the anger.

"Buffy Anne Summers."

Joyce had moved he hands from that crossed position, to rest on her hips, and Buffy winced again.

I'm sure middle names were only invented to let people know that they're in trouble.

She tried her most disarming smile, even though she really didn't feel up to dealing with this right now.

"Umm, hey mom. What's up?"

"What's up is that you agreed that you were going to be back three hours ago."

Methos followed Buffy out of the car, and up on to the porch. There was no way that he was going to let her face the Spanish Inquisition, after the night that she's had.

"My apologies, Joyce. This time the blame lies entirely with me."

He turned her glare onto him, but he'd face things that were a lot more frightening then an angry Joyce Summers, throughout his life. Granted, he couldn't think of many at the moment, but he knew that they'd been there.

"And you. You should know better. It's a school night."

Buffy looked at him with gratitude, as she slunk in through the door, with Joyce right behind, and Methos only a few steps behind her. She needn't have bothered with the slinking, because her full wrath was now effectively directed towards Methos.

She headed towards the kitchen, but Joyce stopped her in her tracks.

"The only place that you're going, young lady, is up stairs, and straight to bed."

She shot a furtive glance at Methos.

"Listen to your mother."

She swung back to anger, before she became resigned.

"Some help you are," she growled, as she headed towards he room. Then she paused half-way up the stairs, and looked back, "'Night."

"Good night, Buffy."

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Once Buffy had vanished from view, Joyce rounded on him.

"What were you thinking, keeping a young girl out until after twelve, on a school night? I specifically told her that she had to be back by nine. Or were you not thinking at all?"

Methos frowned at her, and for a few seconds she caught a glimpse of someone that she didn't recognize, raising up within in his eyes. Someone that was cold, and hard, and that no one would purposely pit themselves against. But then, just as quickly as it had risen, it was gone. So swiftly, in fact, that Joyce could have almost convinced herself that she'd imagined it.

"She may be young, but she hasn't been a child for one hell of a long time. You should at least be able to understand that, even if you won't ever experience it."

She had taken a step back, as he had spoken, and was simply looking at him.

He caught himself, before he could start again, because Joyce didn't deserve this. As a mother, she had every right to worry about her daughter, and nothing would ever stop her from doing so. And besides, it wasn't actually her that he was angry with.

He sighed.

"Sorry. You didn't deserve that."

He sunk down onto her couch, without waiting for an invitation, and put his head in his hands.

Then he looked back up at her, and gestured for her to sit beside him.

"I know that she's not a child. But she will always be my daughter."

Methos nodded.

"Of course she will."

"I just…I just worry."

So do I.

He bit back on the words, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking them. Already, the hours long training session that he had given Buffy had proved fruitful. The fact that she was still alive was proof that his paranoia was entirely justified. None of his concern was misplaced.

But he would never be in a position to admit it, because she would never be able to understand why he hadn't come straight back to her. Although, if truth were to be told, he hadn't actually fully understood the extent of what he had been leaving behind.

"Don't suppose you've got anything here to drink."

"Tea, coffee, water, and milk. I haven't had anything else here since you…well, since…you know."

He did know.

Methos closed his eyes for a while. In fact, he sat, like that, eyes shut and back against the couch for long enough that she began to wonder if he hadn't fallen asleep right then and there.

But then he spoke again, without bothering to open his eyes.

"You've done a good job, bringing her up."

"I…" she stopped, taken aback. She wasn't sure what it was, that she'd been expecting, but that certainly hadn't been it.

"Thank-you."

"I'd imagine it wasn't easy, either."

"You have no idea."

"Actually," Methos smiled to himself, "You would be surprised. There have been a few children, over the years, which I've helped with. It was never one of my favourite things, but still…and if I hadn't been killed in front of you, then I would have stayed around to help you out, as well."

Joyce frowned at him, even though he couldn't see it, "How could you not like children? Even when it's hard, it's still one of the most rewarding things that I've ever done."

"Because it's hard, watching other people leaving their mark on the future. Watching people, who have something that's even more important oneself. Seeing the new generations come around, and not being able to add to it, yourself. Seeing others, with children, and grandchildren. The love that comes into it…Once upon a time, I was bitter about it. Then I passed that, and there was just no more reason to care, because caring would only do more harm then good."

His smile had become a frown, and he had opened his eyes again, to find himself inches away from Joyce, her blue eyes meeting his brown, directly, without flinching.

He had said far more then he had been planning to.

Around Joyce he always said more then what he wanted to.

He always thought, before he opened his mouth around other people.

Almost always, anyway -there were very few people that he was ever completely honest with, at least these days.

He wasn't even entirely honest with himself. Because if he had been, then he would have had to admit…

But no, never mind. He had a feeling that he had over stayed his welcome. It was just going on one in the morning, and it had been three nights since he'd last gotten any decent sleep.

He rose from the couch, and nodded to Joyce, who rose after him, and followed him out to the door, so that she could lock up behind him.

"Good night, Adam."

Her voice was soft, as she stood in the doorway, looking after him.

"Good night, Joyce. I'll catch you another time."

She forced the words out, before she could re-think them, "Why not tomorrow, or today, anyway, at around twelve? I wasn't doing anything. And we do need to talk. Properly."

"That could work."

He allowed a quick smile, before climbing back into the car.

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Giles tossed, and rolled over, moaning, in his sleep. Until tonight, he had been able to fool himself into thinking that the nightmares had been caused by the way things had ended with Ethan.

But that would work no longer.

He could hear broken laughter, and see a pair of glowing, yellow-green eyes coming towards him, out of the inky darkness.

He gasped, and jerked, and thrashed, and his head caught his headboard, hard enough to wake him from his restless sleep.

He sat up, and looked around the room, straining his eyes hard; as though just by willing it, he could make what he was looking for appear out of thin air.

At least then he would be able to face it down. Would have to be a hell of a lot better then lying here, on his own, sweating, and scared.

He couldn't be bother turning on the light. Even with it off there was no way that would be able to get back to sleep.

At least he knew that Ethan was safe, that he hadn't triggered it.

Silently, he ran a finger over the mark that he knew was on his arm -the mark that had been the beginning of the end, not just between him and Ethan, but also of everything.

"Damn it. You're the last thing I wanted to be dealing with."

He spoke out loud, to the darkness, and felt a lot better for hearing the sound of his own voice breaking the heavy silence.

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Jenny was not at all thrilled with the way she had been dismissed. Just who did Rupert Giles think he was, choosing a Chaos Mage, and known criminal, over her?

She loved him, and wanted him, and when she had told him as much he had thrown it back at her, and said that he loved Ethan. There was no way that someone like Rupert could ever love a person like Rayne.

Admittedly, she had told him that he had to make a choice, but he shouldn't have made that choice.

It seemed she would have to take matters into her own hands.

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Richie breathed in deeply, and dropped into a crouch, so that he was eye to reptilian eye with what was before him.

"Star Reader. It seems as though it has been an age. How are things?"

Kali-taron tilted his head back, and rose to his full height, so that he was above the young man.

~*They defy me. They continue to test me. The child almost broke the pact, and the Queen can not hold much longer*~

"Did you expect any difference?"

~*I expected respect*~

"They test you because of your youth, and because the last time a Star Reader was recognized as the pack leader, it was over a thousand years ago. And, if memory serves, from what I've heard, he failed miserably. So, who was it, that was almost killed?"

~*The one you ordered untouched*~

"Of course. It had to happen."

Kali-taron grinned, revealing his double rows of teeth.

~*And the power that we need? *~

"Everything's almost ready to go. Just remember your side of things."

~*You think me untrustworthy*~

There was no question what so ever, in it.

"Yes, I do. I'd be a fool to trust you."

~*Rest assured, child. The feeling is mutual*~

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When Methos got back, and let himself in, he wasn't particularly surprised to find that Ethan had already arrived there. What he did find surprising, however, was that he was still sleeping uneasily.

Maybe things hadn't worked out how he had thought that they would.

Well, he wouldn't have to wait for much longer, because he was going to take care of things. If he ever caught Jenny crossing the line, and interfering with his family again…any of his family, for that matter -whether Ethan, or Buffy, he wasn't particularly choosy.

With a gentle hand, he stirred Ethan, this time careful to avoid flailing hands, and feet.

"Thanks," was all that he said.

"Gonna tell me what's up, this time?"

"Nothing, or nothing like you think, anyway. I'm just…having bad dreams, I guess. I'd thought that they would have passed, but…maybe it's time to talk to Rupert about it…if he's been…"

Methos didn't even have to repress a sigh. Of course, the first few time Ethan had spoken in that awful, fragmented style, without finishing anything, it had been a different story, but now, he was actually used to it. He knew enough to read between the lines these days, and besides, it wasn't as though getting frustrated would actually do anything to change Ethan. The man would always be who he was.