Part 14
Dawn had crept downstairs past Buffy's closed bedroom door. Will they ever give it a rest? she thought, it's almost as bad as Riley.
As she stepped into the kitchen, she saw Tara and Willow making sandwiches.
Tara smiled at her, "Hi, Dawn. Do you like peanut butter and jelly or peanut butter and honey?"
"Honey? No thanks, what kind of jelly?"
"Grape."
"I'll take the jelly."
Willow poured Dawn a glass of milk, and sat down on the stool next to her. "So, how're you and Buffy doing?"
Dawn talked over her mouth full of sandwich, "I haven't talked to Buffy, yet. I talked to Giles."
"Really?" Willow's eyebrows went higher on her forehead; Dawn had noticed that Willow's eyebrows only did that in moments of extreme surprise and when she was lying. "What did he say?"
"Not much." Dawn's stomach sank at the thought of what she had done. She hoped that Buffy could forgive her. "Could I just eat my sandwich, please?"
Tare nodded and began cleaning up the bread and sandwich fixings, "Sure, Dawn, whatever you want."
Dawn couldn't help but notice that Willow seemed disappointed with her lack of sharing.
********
They had stopped crying and started breathing regularly again. Giles had refused to give into panic, and had helped Buffy calm down.
Buffy sat on the floor, still holding on to Giles' hands, hypnotized by the whirl of his thoughts. No, she thought, it's not that messy. Buffy's thought hung inside her somewhere, just long enough for it to be glimpsed by Rupert, and then it disappeared back into the network of her mind.
No, I suppose it isn't very messy, not compared to your mind anyway. Giles' noticed that some of Buffy's thoughts were fully formed when he became aware of them, but that others were merely unarticulated impressions, emotions, and notions. If Buffy compared his mind to the ordered chaos of a whirlpool or vortex, all matter swirling in one direction with one destination, he compared hers to a cobweb, all connected with no discernable pattern. He wondered, what did she see in the whirlpool?
Everything, all of you, your family, your friends, your experiences, how feel about everything, and everything you know. It's all there Giles, as clear as day. You're an open book.
I never was before?
You thought you were, didn't you? You thought you had lain yourself open for me to see, but I was too preoccupied with myself. Blind. I still am. But now, you're a part of me, and you're included.
Her awkward phrasing assured Rupert that Buffy and his telepathy had not obliterated their individuality. She was still Buffy and he was still Rupert, even if they had no secrets.
Can we get through the service like this?
I think we can.
Rupert helped Buffy to her feet, and kissed her. The rush of emotion was awesome and indescribable, but Buffy was sure that she had read something somewhere in a romance novel that could explain how she felt. Giles held Buffy for a while, and when he released her from his embrace and finally let go of her hand, the sound of their hearts beating returned to him while his window to her thoughts closed. He was puzzled, but he could feel something else as well, severe irritation.
"Giles?" Buffy looked at him intensely, sighed and spoke, "Okay, so the telepathy has worn off. I wish this attunement would work itself out."
"I think it has, Buffy."
"Wha-" But before Buffy could speak, Giles grabbed her hand and once again had a clear view into her mind.
Understanding crept across Buffy's mind, which had already started to change shape and adapt to keep pace with his own thoughts. He began to see what she meant by a "not that messy."
Why is my mind adapting to yours? Why aren't you getting messier?
I don't know, it is very sensible, though. How unlike you.
From outside, they could hear the sound of car horn, and Dawn calling from downstairs that the car service had arrived to take them to the funeral home.
Rupert smiled and let go of Buffy's hand, "Well, that part of the puzzle has solved itself. Do you think we should get going?"
Rupert solemnly offered his hand to Buffy, "We still need to figure out what to do about your father, your sister and your friends. I think we can make a lot of progress if we hold on to each other."
"Giles, don't you think we should go back to your place and research? Or something? I don't think it's a the best idea for us to go to the service like this."
"Buffy, I know. But I also know that it has to be done and that you'll do it. And I'll be there with you."
"I hate how you're right all of the time." Buffy looked at his hand, took a breath, grasped onto it tightly, and followed him downstairs.
They met Willow, Tara and Dawn at the door, their hands still firmly clasped and they didn't let go of each other until they reached the funeral home and Buffy excused herself and Dawn to the ladies' lounge, where they could talk in private before the service began.
Like all good ladies' lounges, the one at the Sunnydale Funeral Home had a rest area with a couple of lounge couches, mirrors and lots of tissues. Buffy sat Dawn down on one of richly upholstered couches and proceeded to touch up her own make-up in one of the mirrors.
"Dawn, Giles told me that you spoke to Dad."
"I'm sorry, Buffy, really!" Dawn made a move to stand up and go to her sister, but Buffy turned around and caught Dawn in a gaze that froze her.
"Don't get up, Dawn, don't talk. Just listen. Giles and I talked about this the whole way here, and we've got a plan for dealing with this, but it all hinges upon your cooperation."
Dawn simply nodded, even though she was sure that on the ride over no one had uttered a single word, and that Willow hadn't been able to look away from Buffy and Giles' joined hands.
"Okay, Dad is going to show up at home tonight, right?" Dawn nodded again, and Buffy continued, "Well, I won't be there because I'll be on patrol. Giles will be there, and so will you and everyone else. And you'll take your cue from Giles, do you understand? You follow his lead, nothing else."
"Is that all? It seems pretty easy."
"Simple plans usually work the best, Dawn, but it all depends on you. Can we depend on you?"
Buffy was looking right through her, and Dawn realized for the first time, she was being trusted with responsibility. "Yes, Buffy. You can count on me."
Buffy smiled and pulled Dawn into a hug, "Good," Buffy's voice was muffled by Dawn's hair, "Because I need you more than ever, little sister."
They walked back into the lobby together, where Giles was standing with Willow and Tara next to the table with the programs. Buffy immediately went to Giles' side and took his hand, while Dawn picked up one of the programs and looked at it. She hadn't known what Buffy had chosen to put on them, and was surprised that all it said was her mom's name, the date of her birth and death, the date of the service and a tiny poem, which she read quietly to herself:
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
Giles heard her and smiled, "Edna St. Vincent Millay. I'm surprised that Joyce chose it for this occasion."
Dawn looked up at Giles, "Did she choose it? I thought Buffy made all these decisions."
"If I understand correctly," Giles came over to Dawn and put his hand on her shoulder, "Your mother was very explicit in what she wanted. No viewing, a small graveside service, and 'Second Fig.'"
"'Second Fig?'" Dawn, confused, looked up at Giles.
Giles pointed to the program in her hand, "It's the name of the poem."
Dawn looked over at Buffy and tried to guess at what her sister was thinking. Buffy's eyes were a funny color, not quite blue and not quite green, and she wasn't really looking at anything. The funeral director was walking up to her and Buffy came out of her meditation and turned to speak to him. They finished speaking and the funeral director walked away while Buffy walked over to Dawn and Giles.
"He says that the parlor is ready, we can go in and sit down now."
The three of them headed into the parlor, followed by Tara and Willow but Dawn hesitated at the entrance. Giles continued on and motioned for Tara and Willow to follow him.
Dawn tried to peer into the parlor without actually going in, and Buffy stood with her, waiting for Dawn to be ready to go in. Finally, Dawn asked the question that Buffy had been waiting for.
"Is Mom in there?"
"No, just flowers." Dawn seemed relieved by the answer, but still hesitated to enter, and walked away from the entrance into a little vestibule in the lobby. Buffy followed her.
"Where is Mom?" Buffy wanted to say that she was gone, or in Heaven, or that she didn't know. But Dawn wasn't asking metaphysical questions, she was asking about the body.
"The casket is in the hearse," She couldn't say that her mom was in the hearse, and if she said "the body," Dawn might freak out, "waiting to go to the graveyard when the memorial is over."
Dawn looked at the floor, "Oh. I thought we'd get to see her again." She looked up at Buffy and giggled nervously, "But I'm kind of relieved, too."
Buffy took Dawn's hand and looked her sister in the eye, "Do you think it would be harder if she were in there?"
"I don't know." Dawn started to cry and her voice was thick, "Yes. Maybe."
Buffy pulled Dawn into a hug, "Are you ready to go sit down? People are coming in."
Dawn nodded and followed Buffy into the parlor, but she kept her eyes on the floor so that she didn't have to look at anyone. When they reached the front of the parlor, Buffy guided Dawn to her left, and she felt Tara's hand take her own. "Sit by me, Dawn."
Wordlessly, she sank into the wooden folding chair, still keeping her eyes planted firmly on the ground. There was some kind of non-descript piano music playing. She wondered if her mom had chosen that or if it was something that the funeral home did for everyone. Dawn tried to remember what the program had said about music or who was speaking her mother's memorial, but she couldn't. She could only stare at the floor.
Buffy was sitting on her right, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Giles' arm around Buffy, as Buffy cried silently into a handful of tissues.
"Xander, where are we supposed to sit?" Dawn could feel everyone around her cringe at the sound of Anya's voice, but she felt relaxed. Anya, more than Tara, shared Dawn's disbelief at her mother's death.
"Shh, Anya, we'll sit up front with every. there they are!" Xander and Anya made their way to the front of the room and sat down next to Giles. Dawn broke her gaze at the carpet to look over at Xander and Anya, and both of them smiled and waved at her. She felt herself losing control and her vision got blurry.
Xander had walked up to the very front of the room, to the podium, and was speaking with the funeral director. More and more people were coming in and sitting down behind them. In a matter of minutes, the room had filled.
Suddenly, Xander spoke. To the entire room. Dawn hadn't known that he was speaking. She thought it was going to be some stranger. "Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming. My name is Xander Harris, and it's my honor to speak the memorial for Ms. Joyce Summers. She was brave woman and she fought her battle with cancer and never looked back. I see that braveness in her daughters. I met Joyce because I am a best friend of her daughter Buffy, and Joyce, in many ways was the mom I never really had." Xander choked on the words, but kept going, "She took care of everyone in her life, whether it was a couch to crash on or a cup of cocoa after a rough night, she loved us all for what we were and made us feel special."
Dawn was crying now, and she hadn't had grabbed any tissues or anything. A tap on her shoulder got her attention, and Giles gave her a handkerchief. That made her cry even harder, and she could hear Buffy start to sob, everyone would be looking up here watching them, it was awful being under this microscope. Tara's arms were around her at once, and the soft comfort made her feel safe enough to cry without embarrassment.
"We will all miss Joyce, but as long as we remember how much she loved us and loved life, we can never lose her." Xander broke down and walked to Anya for comfort, while the funeral director informed everyone that the graveside service would begin in one half-hour at Sunnydale's newest cemetery, Shady Pines.
The next thing Dawn knew, they had all been huddled into a limousine and were being escorted through town by her mother's casket, a caravan of cars following them.
********
Angel had been awake for most of the day, digging through the boxes in the Summers' basement. There were photographs of Joyce that must have been twenty years old or more, she was Buffy's age and had her hair feathered like Farrah Fawcett. She was smiling and she was beautiful.
Angel hadn't known Joyce very well. He had only known her through Buffy. She had seemed nice, though. Angel was sorry he hadn't known her better.
He was anxious for the sun to go down. He wanted to see if Buffy was okay. He wanted to go home to LA.
He had heard everyone milling around, heard them talking, heard Buffy run away, and heard Dawn scream for her. He'd had to stay in the basement when he'd wanted to chase after Buffy and find out what the Hell she was doing. But she had come back with him, and there was no point in risking sunlight if he was here.
But she didn't have anything to say to him anymore and he knew it. It broke his heart. She still loved him, like she loved Xander and used to love Giles, and he had seen how that pained him.
It was only a couple of more hours until sundown, then he'd see her and say goodbye, and maybe this goodbye would stick, maybe it would last until her funeral.
*******
The graveside service was short. It was a simple internment, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, so are the day of our lives. People milled around, giving their condolences, and the crowd thinned out pretty quickly. Xander and Anya left quickly, unsure of where they needed to be, and Buffy didn't really seem too concerned if they stayed or left. Dawn hung back with Tara and Willow, but Buffy stood at the very edge of grave, staring down into it as if seeing her mother's burial close-up would somehow hasten her grieving.
Giles stood apart from them all, which surprised Dawn. She thought he would be by her side like he had been at the memorial, but he stood at least ten feet away from them all and looked off into the distance, like he was waiting for someone to come over the horizon.
As the sun sank lower in the sky, Giles walked over to Buffy and took her hand. They didn't look at each other, but Buffy didn't pull away at all, and after a few seconds, Giles let go of her hand and walked over to where Dawn, Tara and Willow were standing.
Giles pointed at the setting sun as he walked towards them, "I think it may be time for us to get home."
Willow looked at each of them, "What about Buffy?"
Dawn remembered what Buffy had told her about following Giles' lead, "She'll be fine. She wants to patrol tonight."
Willow looked unsure but followed them all to the waiting limousine.
The sun had gone down completely by the time they arrived at the Summers' house, and Dawn ran inside to see if her father had arrived yet, but the house was quiet. There was a note on the coffee table with Dawn's name written on it. She read it slowly then handed it off to Giles.
Willow's curiosity got the better of her and she asked him what it said.
"It's from Angel. He's gone to say goodbye to Buffy, then he'll to head back to Los Angeles."
Willow looked around uncomfortably, while Dawn flopped onto the couch. Giles sat down heavily in the armchair and Tara hovered at the periphery.
"Is anyone hungry? I'll make some dinner if you're hungry."
"Excellent idea, Tara," Giles got up and walked into the kitchen, "I think we could all use some food."
********
Buffy did a roundhouse kick and knocked the vampire back a good ten feet. Angel had forgotten how strong she was, and suspected that she was getting stronger. She reached down to help him up and couldn't help but comment, "I seem to remember you being a better sparring partner."
"And I seem to remember that you used to pull your punches." He grunted as he got up, his ribs were feeling a little tender.
"It's funny what love makes a girl do." Buffy was already walking a good five feet ahead of him; she had been antsy all night. Buffy had been up for sparring in-between each kill; it was something he'd never seen her do before. She turned and looked at him, "Angel?"
He stopped walking towards her, not sure if she meant to talk to him or kick his ass again, "Yeah?"
She paused, and looked around awkwardly, "I know I said it before, but, really, thanks for coming. You being here really helps."
Angel cocked his head to one side and squinted at her, "Does it really?"
"Yes. Believe it or not, it takes me back to a simpler time." Buffy chuckled at what she had just said, but it was a sad little laugh, and it made Angel pity her situation.
"I could stay."
Buffy knew he was trying to be helpful, but knew that he didn't understand what she really meant by a simpler time, "I wish you could."
"You're right, I can't. But we can kill some evil for old times sake, right?"
"Always." She smiled at him and walked ahead some more, "I think I saw some vampire activity over there."
Angel followed Buffy obediently, like a puppy, until midnight, when he left for LA. They had dusted fifteen vampires and had avoided talking about her mom for the entire evening, Angel felt his work was done and done well.
He hoped that Buffy made it home all right that night.
*********
The taxi pulled up in front of the house on Revello Drive and extruded one passenger with one bag.
Hank Summers slammed the door of the car and walked cautiously up to the house. He saw only one light on downstairs and hoped that he would find everything, as it should be, his daughters safe, sound and sane. Hank tried the front door and found that it was unlocked, and shook his head. Didn't they know that it was dangerous to leave the door unlocked at night?
He stepped into the entry way and heard voices coming from the back of the house, so he called out, "Hello?" Dawn came running out to greet him, which pleased him very much.
"Dawn! Are you here by yourself? Where's Buffy?"
"Buffy's not here, she's, uh, out with an old friend, " Behind her three other figures appeared, Dawn immediately began to introduce them, "This is Tara, Willow and Mr. Giles."
Hank chose to ignore them for a moment, and concentrated on his daughter, "Dawn, are you okay?"
Dawn nodded, "I'm fine, Dad, we were just eating dinner. Do you want some spaghetti?"
"No, I've eaten." Hank chose to look at Rupert then, and felt himself getting angry, "Dawn, if you wouldn't mind excusing us for a moment? I think I need to speak to Mr. Giles alone."
Dawn looked over at Giles, but he gave no outward signal of what she was supposed to do, he just met her father's gaze, so she followed Tara and Willow into the kitchen without protest. "So, you're the famous Mr. Giles." Hank studied the man in front of him. He was taller than expected, and older, clean-shaven and well dressed, and somber. This wasn't the Lothario he had pictured.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced, Mr. Summers." Giles put out his hand in greeting, but Hank turned and walked into the living room. Giles took a breath and put his hands in his pockets and followed Hank. "Please, call me Rupert."
Hank walked over to the fireplace and stood with his back to Rupert. "I think Mr. Giles is just fine for now."
Rupert sighed and sat on the couch, "Very well."
Hank studies the photos on the mantel and the painting that hung above them, "I'm not sure if you're aware of the phone call I received from Dawn earlier today."
"Yes." Giles took off his glasses resisted the urge to clean them or rub his eyes.
"And you know what she told me?"
Rupert looked up and was surprised to see Hank looking at him. He met the look with one of equal curiosity and hostility, "Yes."
"Well, is it true? Did you sleep with Joyce?" Hank walked over and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, "Are you sleeping with Buffy?"
Giles didn't answer Hank, but asked a question of his own, "Is that it? Dawn told you nothing else?"
"She also told me that Buffy hunts vampires and that you're her guide of some kind, and that those two girls are witches." Hank shook his head. "I believe that Dawn is having a grief induced psychotic break, and that despite that she managed to tell me that you're carrying on some kind of affair with my daughter."
"Please, let me explain."
"Explain what? That you're preying on my family? How can you explain that?"
"Mr. Summers, my encounter with Joyce was chance. Unintended and unforgettable. I miss her; she was great ally of Buffy's. and a brave, kind soul." Giles had small smile on his face, and rather than anger Hank, it calmed him. "I seriously doubt, however, that anyone could make Joyce do something that she did not all ready intend to do. It is a trait that she passed onto Buffy and Dawn. These Summers women are not helpless and I'm afraid that we all have you to thank for that."
"Me?" But Hank knew what Rupert intended to say and that he would be right.
"You were the absent husband and father." Giles looked at Buffy's father and sighed. This discussion felt pointless to him. "They are very self- reliant, Buffy more so than Dawn. But, you see, it is the nature of her work. I used to think that in order to survive she mustn't rely on anyone else. But I was wrong. She relies on us for some semblance of normality. For love."
Giles rose from his seat, and walked over to Hank, who sat dumbfounded. "Now, I'm leaving. Buffy will probably be home a little after midnight. I'm going to say goodbye to Dawn, whom I suggest you speak with, at length, before Buffy gets back. Everything she told you is true."
Giles shook his hand, "It was good to meet you Mr. Summers. I hope we can speak again before you leave."
Hank watched Mr. Giles pick his coat from the rack by the front door and walk out of sight towards what must have been the kitchen.
Rupert already had his coat on when he walked into the kitchen. The three girls waiting in the kitchen looked up at him as he entered, and Dawn approached him, "Is everything okay?"
"I don't know, Dawn, but the important thing is that none of us get angry and that we're completely honest." Giles held her by the shoulders and looked into eyes, "Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Willow, Tara, I know it's asking a lot, but if you'd stay here tonight."
"Sure, Giles. Absolutely."
"Tell Buffy, I." He looked at their faces, so expectant and curious, "I'll be at home if she needs anything."
Rupert felt anxious on his walk home, no doubt compounded by Buffy's anxiety at seeing her father. Their joined heartbeat had been a comforting background noise throughout the evening, and while a general melancholy had hung over him, Rupert couldn't help but be happy. He could hardly believe the events of the day, the telepathy had proven to be an asset almost immediately, rather than the hindrance he had feared it would be. It had allowed them to plan, to give each other support and to become certain of their choice. Their certitude had surprised him. After years of tentatively showing his love, attempting to tell her how he felt, Buffy had seen him and accepted what he was, not grudgingly, but completely, and he felt joy in his love.
He couldn't help but hum on his walk home, even though he knew hours of research lay ahead him. Buffy had seemed satisfied that the attunement had, in fact, been completed, but Rupert felt that they were still operating blindly and he needed more information before he could truly be comfortable with his new situation, and now Buffy understood why he needed to have all that information available to him. His knowledge was his security, just like Slayer-strength was hers.
*********
Dawn walked into the living room, she held two mugs of hot cocoa in her hands and as she reached the couch, she offered one to her father. She was a bit surprised that he took it. She settled into the couch next to her dad, he put his arm around her and she nestled her head into his shoulder.
Hank took a sip of the cocoa and looked down at Dawn, "How are you holding up, kiddo?"
"Okay. It's still sinking in." Her voice was tired and she missed her mom, but the more tired she was the harder it was to stay sad. "So, do you think I'm crazy?"
"I think you've had a rough time lately." Hank gave her a squeeze and kissed her on the top of her head.
"It's all true, you know. Everything I told you. I didn't make up any of it." Dawn needed him to believe her, as surely as she had needed him to come to Sunnydale.
"That's what Mr. Giles said." Hank took a deep breath and set down his cocoa, "Listen, Dawn, I don't know what to think. I came here with every intention of knocking that Mr. Giles so far out of here, he'd think Pluto was home. But he said some things, in a very non sequitur sort of way, that made it hard for me to beat him senseless."
"He really loves Buffy. He takes care of her." Dawn paused and then said shakily, "He takes care of all of us."
"Well, it's nice to know that someone does. I know I haven't been here for you, Dawn, and I'm sorry. I'd like for it to be different."
"You've said that before and we never see you. You didn't even tell us when you moved last time."
Dawn realized that Hank was crying, his breathing was ragged and he sobbed, "I'm a horrible father. I just can't believe she's really gone."
"But you came here, now." She put her arms around her dad and tried not to cry too hard with him.
"I wasn't going to. I really wasn't. I was going to let you and Buffy deal with it alone."
"What changed?" Dawn pulled away from him and wiped her nose on her sleeve, something she hadn't done since she was little.
Hank sat in silence for a minute, and tried to gain some composure. He looked at Dawn and couldn't help himself, "Does she really kill vampires?"
"She does, but she can tell you about it." Dawn knew that he wouldn't let her off that easy.
"I think you're supposed to tell me this stuff."
"Yeah, well, what do you want to know?"
"How?" Hank grabbed his cocoa and got up, and he paced around the room, "And why? Why Mr. Giles?"
Dawn drank her cocoa, thinking of the best way to answer her father. "Well, we don't know exactly why or how, just that 'into every generation A Slayer is born.'"
Hank listened to Dawn recount the legend of The Slayer, the story of The Watchers Council and the true history of the world and the demons that ruled it before humans were a step on the evolutionary ladder.
Dawn had crept downstairs past Buffy's closed bedroom door. Will they ever give it a rest? she thought, it's almost as bad as Riley.
As she stepped into the kitchen, she saw Tara and Willow making sandwiches.
Tara smiled at her, "Hi, Dawn. Do you like peanut butter and jelly or peanut butter and honey?"
"Honey? No thanks, what kind of jelly?"
"Grape."
"I'll take the jelly."
Willow poured Dawn a glass of milk, and sat down on the stool next to her. "So, how're you and Buffy doing?"
Dawn talked over her mouth full of sandwich, "I haven't talked to Buffy, yet. I talked to Giles."
"Really?" Willow's eyebrows went higher on her forehead; Dawn had noticed that Willow's eyebrows only did that in moments of extreme surprise and when she was lying. "What did he say?"
"Not much." Dawn's stomach sank at the thought of what she had done. She hoped that Buffy could forgive her. "Could I just eat my sandwich, please?"
Tare nodded and began cleaning up the bread and sandwich fixings, "Sure, Dawn, whatever you want."
Dawn couldn't help but notice that Willow seemed disappointed with her lack of sharing.
********
They had stopped crying and started breathing regularly again. Giles had refused to give into panic, and had helped Buffy calm down.
Buffy sat on the floor, still holding on to Giles' hands, hypnotized by the whirl of his thoughts. No, she thought, it's not that messy. Buffy's thought hung inside her somewhere, just long enough for it to be glimpsed by Rupert, and then it disappeared back into the network of her mind.
No, I suppose it isn't very messy, not compared to your mind anyway. Giles' noticed that some of Buffy's thoughts were fully formed when he became aware of them, but that others were merely unarticulated impressions, emotions, and notions. If Buffy compared his mind to the ordered chaos of a whirlpool or vortex, all matter swirling in one direction with one destination, he compared hers to a cobweb, all connected with no discernable pattern. He wondered, what did she see in the whirlpool?
Everything, all of you, your family, your friends, your experiences, how feel about everything, and everything you know. It's all there Giles, as clear as day. You're an open book.
I never was before?
You thought you were, didn't you? You thought you had lain yourself open for me to see, but I was too preoccupied with myself. Blind. I still am. But now, you're a part of me, and you're included.
Her awkward phrasing assured Rupert that Buffy and his telepathy had not obliterated their individuality. She was still Buffy and he was still Rupert, even if they had no secrets.
Can we get through the service like this?
I think we can.
Rupert helped Buffy to her feet, and kissed her. The rush of emotion was awesome and indescribable, but Buffy was sure that she had read something somewhere in a romance novel that could explain how she felt. Giles held Buffy for a while, and when he released her from his embrace and finally let go of her hand, the sound of their hearts beating returned to him while his window to her thoughts closed. He was puzzled, but he could feel something else as well, severe irritation.
"Giles?" Buffy looked at him intensely, sighed and spoke, "Okay, so the telepathy has worn off. I wish this attunement would work itself out."
"I think it has, Buffy."
"Wha-" But before Buffy could speak, Giles grabbed her hand and once again had a clear view into her mind.
Understanding crept across Buffy's mind, which had already started to change shape and adapt to keep pace with his own thoughts. He began to see what she meant by a "not that messy."
Why is my mind adapting to yours? Why aren't you getting messier?
I don't know, it is very sensible, though. How unlike you.
From outside, they could hear the sound of car horn, and Dawn calling from downstairs that the car service had arrived to take them to the funeral home.
Rupert smiled and let go of Buffy's hand, "Well, that part of the puzzle has solved itself. Do you think we should get going?"
Rupert solemnly offered his hand to Buffy, "We still need to figure out what to do about your father, your sister and your friends. I think we can make a lot of progress if we hold on to each other."
"Giles, don't you think we should go back to your place and research? Or something? I don't think it's a the best idea for us to go to the service like this."
"Buffy, I know. But I also know that it has to be done and that you'll do it. And I'll be there with you."
"I hate how you're right all of the time." Buffy looked at his hand, took a breath, grasped onto it tightly, and followed him downstairs.
They met Willow, Tara and Dawn at the door, their hands still firmly clasped and they didn't let go of each other until they reached the funeral home and Buffy excused herself and Dawn to the ladies' lounge, where they could talk in private before the service began.
Like all good ladies' lounges, the one at the Sunnydale Funeral Home had a rest area with a couple of lounge couches, mirrors and lots of tissues. Buffy sat Dawn down on one of richly upholstered couches and proceeded to touch up her own make-up in one of the mirrors.
"Dawn, Giles told me that you spoke to Dad."
"I'm sorry, Buffy, really!" Dawn made a move to stand up and go to her sister, but Buffy turned around and caught Dawn in a gaze that froze her.
"Don't get up, Dawn, don't talk. Just listen. Giles and I talked about this the whole way here, and we've got a plan for dealing with this, but it all hinges upon your cooperation."
Dawn simply nodded, even though she was sure that on the ride over no one had uttered a single word, and that Willow hadn't been able to look away from Buffy and Giles' joined hands.
"Okay, Dad is going to show up at home tonight, right?" Dawn nodded again, and Buffy continued, "Well, I won't be there because I'll be on patrol. Giles will be there, and so will you and everyone else. And you'll take your cue from Giles, do you understand? You follow his lead, nothing else."
"Is that all? It seems pretty easy."
"Simple plans usually work the best, Dawn, but it all depends on you. Can we depend on you?"
Buffy was looking right through her, and Dawn realized for the first time, she was being trusted with responsibility. "Yes, Buffy. You can count on me."
Buffy smiled and pulled Dawn into a hug, "Good," Buffy's voice was muffled by Dawn's hair, "Because I need you more than ever, little sister."
They walked back into the lobby together, where Giles was standing with Willow and Tara next to the table with the programs. Buffy immediately went to Giles' side and took his hand, while Dawn picked up one of the programs and looked at it. She hadn't known what Buffy had chosen to put on them, and was surprised that all it said was her mom's name, the date of her birth and death, the date of the service and a tiny poem, which she read quietly to herself:
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
Giles heard her and smiled, "Edna St. Vincent Millay. I'm surprised that Joyce chose it for this occasion."
Dawn looked up at Giles, "Did she choose it? I thought Buffy made all these decisions."
"If I understand correctly," Giles came over to Dawn and put his hand on her shoulder, "Your mother was very explicit in what she wanted. No viewing, a small graveside service, and 'Second Fig.'"
"'Second Fig?'" Dawn, confused, looked up at Giles.
Giles pointed to the program in her hand, "It's the name of the poem."
Dawn looked over at Buffy and tried to guess at what her sister was thinking. Buffy's eyes were a funny color, not quite blue and not quite green, and she wasn't really looking at anything. The funeral director was walking up to her and Buffy came out of her meditation and turned to speak to him. They finished speaking and the funeral director walked away while Buffy walked over to Dawn and Giles.
"He says that the parlor is ready, we can go in and sit down now."
The three of them headed into the parlor, followed by Tara and Willow but Dawn hesitated at the entrance. Giles continued on and motioned for Tara and Willow to follow him.
Dawn tried to peer into the parlor without actually going in, and Buffy stood with her, waiting for Dawn to be ready to go in. Finally, Dawn asked the question that Buffy had been waiting for.
"Is Mom in there?"
"No, just flowers." Dawn seemed relieved by the answer, but still hesitated to enter, and walked away from the entrance into a little vestibule in the lobby. Buffy followed her.
"Where is Mom?" Buffy wanted to say that she was gone, or in Heaven, or that she didn't know. But Dawn wasn't asking metaphysical questions, she was asking about the body.
"The casket is in the hearse," She couldn't say that her mom was in the hearse, and if she said "the body," Dawn might freak out, "waiting to go to the graveyard when the memorial is over."
Dawn looked at the floor, "Oh. I thought we'd get to see her again." She looked up at Buffy and giggled nervously, "But I'm kind of relieved, too."
Buffy took Dawn's hand and looked her sister in the eye, "Do you think it would be harder if she were in there?"
"I don't know." Dawn started to cry and her voice was thick, "Yes. Maybe."
Buffy pulled Dawn into a hug, "Are you ready to go sit down? People are coming in."
Dawn nodded and followed Buffy into the parlor, but she kept her eyes on the floor so that she didn't have to look at anyone. When they reached the front of the parlor, Buffy guided Dawn to her left, and she felt Tara's hand take her own. "Sit by me, Dawn."
Wordlessly, she sank into the wooden folding chair, still keeping her eyes planted firmly on the ground. There was some kind of non-descript piano music playing. She wondered if her mom had chosen that or if it was something that the funeral home did for everyone. Dawn tried to remember what the program had said about music or who was speaking her mother's memorial, but she couldn't. She could only stare at the floor.
Buffy was sitting on her right, and out of the corner of her eye she could see Giles' arm around Buffy, as Buffy cried silently into a handful of tissues.
"Xander, where are we supposed to sit?" Dawn could feel everyone around her cringe at the sound of Anya's voice, but she felt relaxed. Anya, more than Tara, shared Dawn's disbelief at her mother's death.
"Shh, Anya, we'll sit up front with every. there they are!" Xander and Anya made their way to the front of the room and sat down next to Giles. Dawn broke her gaze at the carpet to look over at Xander and Anya, and both of them smiled and waved at her. She felt herself losing control and her vision got blurry.
Xander had walked up to the very front of the room, to the podium, and was speaking with the funeral director. More and more people were coming in and sitting down behind them. In a matter of minutes, the room had filled.
Suddenly, Xander spoke. To the entire room. Dawn hadn't known that he was speaking. She thought it was going to be some stranger. "Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for coming. My name is Xander Harris, and it's my honor to speak the memorial for Ms. Joyce Summers. She was brave woman and she fought her battle with cancer and never looked back. I see that braveness in her daughters. I met Joyce because I am a best friend of her daughter Buffy, and Joyce, in many ways was the mom I never really had." Xander choked on the words, but kept going, "She took care of everyone in her life, whether it was a couch to crash on or a cup of cocoa after a rough night, she loved us all for what we were and made us feel special."
Dawn was crying now, and she hadn't had grabbed any tissues or anything. A tap on her shoulder got her attention, and Giles gave her a handkerchief. That made her cry even harder, and she could hear Buffy start to sob, everyone would be looking up here watching them, it was awful being under this microscope. Tara's arms were around her at once, and the soft comfort made her feel safe enough to cry without embarrassment.
"We will all miss Joyce, but as long as we remember how much she loved us and loved life, we can never lose her." Xander broke down and walked to Anya for comfort, while the funeral director informed everyone that the graveside service would begin in one half-hour at Sunnydale's newest cemetery, Shady Pines.
The next thing Dawn knew, they had all been huddled into a limousine and were being escorted through town by her mother's casket, a caravan of cars following them.
********
Angel had been awake for most of the day, digging through the boxes in the Summers' basement. There were photographs of Joyce that must have been twenty years old or more, she was Buffy's age and had her hair feathered like Farrah Fawcett. She was smiling and she was beautiful.
Angel hadn't known Joyce very well. He had only known her through Buffy. She had seemed nice, though. Angel was sorry he hadn't known her better.
He was anxious for the sun to go down. He wanted to see if Buffy was okay. He wanted to go home to LA.
He had heard everyone milling around, heard them talking, heard Buffy run away, and heard Dawn scream for her. He'd had to stay in the basement when he'd wanted to chase after Buffy and find out what the Hell she was doing. But she had come back with him, and there was no point in risking sunlight if he was here.
But she didn't have anything to say to him anymore and he knew it. It broke his heart. She still loved him, like she loved Xander and used to love Giles, and he had seen how that pained him.
It was only a couple of more hours until sundown, then he'd see her and say goodbye, and maybe this goodbye would stick, maybe it would last until her funeral.
*******
The graveside service was short. It was a simple internment, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, so are the day of our lives. People milled around, giving their condolences, and the crowd thinned out pretty quickly. Xander and Anya left quickly, unsure of where they needed to be, and Buffy didn't really seem too concerned if they stayed or left. Dawn hung back with Tara and Willow, but Buffy stood at the very edge of grave, staring down into it as if seeing her mother's burial close-up would somehow hasten her grieving.
Giles stood apart from them all, which surprised Dawn. She thought he would be by her side like he had been at the memorial, but he stood at least ten feet away from them all and looked off into the distance, like he was waiting for someone to come over the horizon.
As the sun sank lower in the sky, Giles walked over to Buffy and took her hand. They didn't look at each other, but Buffy didn't pull away at all, and after a few seconds, Giles let go of her hand and walked over to where Dawn, Tara and Willow were standing.
Giles pointed at the setting sun as he walked towards them, "I think it may be time for us to get home."
Willow looked at each of them, "What about Buffy?"
Dawn remembered what Buffy had told her about following Giles' lead, "She'll be fine. She wants to patrol tonight."
Willow looked unsure but followed them all to the waiting limousine.
The sun had gone down completely by the time they arrived at the Summers' house, and Dawn ran inside to see if her father had arrived yet, but the house was quiet. There was a note on the coffee table with Dawn's name written on it. She read it slowly then handed it off to Giles.
Willow's curiosity got the better of her and she asked him what it said.
"It's from Angel. He's gone to say goodbye to Buffy, then he'll to head back to Los Angeles."
Willow looked around uncomfortably, while Dawn flopped onto the couch. Giles sat down heavily in the armchair and Tara hovered at the periphery.
"Is anyone hungry? I'll make some dinner if you're hungry."
"Excellent idea, Tara," Giles got up and walked into the kitchen, "I think we could all use some food."
********
Buffy did a roundhouse kick and knocked the vampire back a good ten feet. Angel had forgotten how strong she was, and suspected that she was getting stronger. She reached down to help him up and couldn't help but comment, "I seem to remember you being a better sparring partner."
"And I seem to remember that you used to pull your punches." He grunted as he got up, his ribs were feeling a little tender.
"It's funny what love makes a girl do." Buffy was already walking a good five feet ahead of him; she had been antsy all night. Buffy had been up for sparring in-between each kill; it was something he'd never seen her do before. She turned and looked at him, "Angel?"
He stopped walking towards her, not sure if she meant to talk to him or kick his ass again, "Yeah?"
She paused, and looked around awkwardly, "I know I said it before, but, really, thanks for coming. You being here really helps."
Angel cocked his head to one side and squinted at her, "Does it really?"
"Yes. Believe it or not, it takes me back to a simpler time." Buffy chuckled at what she had just said, but it was a sad little laugh, and it made Angel pity her situation.
"I could stay."
Buffy knew he was trying to be helpful, but knew that he didn't understand what she really meant by a simpler time, "I wish you could."
"You're right, I can't. But we can kill some evil for old times sake, right?"
"Always." She smiled at him and walked ahead some more, "I think I saw some vampire activity over there."
Angel followed Buffy obediently, like a puppy, until midnight, when he left for LA. They had dusted fifteen vampires and had avoided talking about her mom for the entire evening, Angel felt his work was done and done well.
He hoped that Buffy made it home all right that night.
*********
The taxi pulled up in front of the house on Revello Drive and extruded one passenger with one bag.
Hank Summers slammed the door of the car and walked cautiously up to the house. He saw only one light on downstairs and hoped that he would find everything, as it should be, his daughters safe, sound and sane. Hank tried the front door and found that it was unlocked, and shook his head. Didn't they know that it was dangerous to leave the door unlocked at night?
He stepped into the entry way and heard voices coming from the back of the house, so he called out, "Hello?" Dawn came running out to greet him, which pleased him very much.
"Dawn! Are you here by yourself? Where's Buffy?"
"Buffy's not here, she's, uh, out with an old friend, " Behind her three other figures appeared, Dawn immediately began to introduce them, "This is Tara, Willow and Mr. Giles."
Hank chose to ignore them for a moment, and concentrated on his daughter, "Dawn, are you okay?"
Dawn nodded, "I'm fine, Dad, we were just eating dinner. Do you want some spaghetti?"
"No, I've eaten." Hank chose to look at Rupert then, and felt himself getting angry, "Dawn, if you wouldn't mind excusing us for a moment? I think I need to speak to Mr. Giles alone."
Dawn looked over at Giles, but he gave no outward signal of what she was supposed to do, he just met her father's gaze, so she followed Tara and Willow into the kitchen without protest. "So, you're the famous Mr. Giles." Hank studied the man in front of him. He was taller than expected, and older, clean-shaven and well dressed, and somber. This wasn't the Lothario he had pictured.
"I don't think we've been properly introduced, Mr. Summers." Giles put out his hand in greeting, but Hank turned and walked into the living room. Giles took a breath and put his hands in his pockets and followed Hank. "Please, call me Rupert."
Hank walked over to the fireplace and stood with his back to Rupert. "I think Mr. Giles is just fine for now."
Rupert sighed and sat on the couch, "Very well."
Hank studies the photos on the mantel and the painting that hung above them, "I'm not sure if you're aware of the phone call I received from Dawn earlier today."
"Yes." Giles took off his glasses resisted the urge to clean them or rub his eyes.
"And you know what she told me?"
Rupert looked up and was surprised to see Hank looking at him. He met the look with one of equal curiosity and hostility, "Yes."
"Well, is it true? Did you sleep with Joyce?" Hank walked over and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, "Are you sleeping with Buffy?"
Giles didn't answer Hank, but asked a question of his own, "Is that it? Dawn told you nothing else?"
"She also told me that Buffy hunts vampires and that you're her guide of some kind, and that those two girls are witches." Hank shook his head. "I believe that Dawn is having a grief induced psychotic break, and that despite that she managed to tell me that you're carrying on some kind of affair with my daughter."
"Please, let me explain."
"Explain what? That you're preying on my family? How can you explain that?"
"Mr. Summers, my encounter with Joyce was chance. Unintended and unforgettable. I miss her; she was great ally of Buffy's. and a brave, kind soul." Giles had small smile on his face, and rather than anger Hank, it calmed him. "I seriously doubt, however, that anyone could make Joyce do something that she did not all ready intend to do. It is a trait that she passed onto Buffy and Dawn. These Summers women are not helpless and I'm afraid that we all have you to thank for that."
"Me?" But Hank knew what Rupert intended to say and that he would be right.
"You were the absent husband and father." Giles looked at Buffy's father and sighed. This discussion felt pointless to him. "They are very self- reliant, Buffy more so than Dawn. But, you see, it is the nature of her work. I used to think that in order to survive she mustn't rely on anyone else. But I was wrong. She relies on us for some semblance of normality. For love."
Giles rose from his seat, and walked over to Hank, who sat dumbfounded. "Now, I'm leaving. Buffy will probably be home a little after midnight. I'm going to say goodbye to Dawn, whom I suggest you speak with, at length, before Buffy gets back. Everything she told you is true."
Giles shook his hand, "It was good to meet you Mr. Summers. I hope we can speak again before you leave."
Hank watched Mr. Giles pick his coat from the rack by the front door and walk out of sight towards what must have been the kitchen.
Rupert already had his coat on when he walked into the kitchen. The three girls waiting in the kitchen looked up at him as he entered, and Dawn approached him, "Is everything okay?"
"I don't know, Dawn, but the important thing is that none of us get angry and that we're completely honest." Giles held her by the shoulders and looked into eyes, "Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Willow, Tara, I know it's asking a lot, but if you'd stay here tonight."
"Sure, Giles. Absolutely."
"Tell Buffy, I." He looked at their faces, so expectant and curious, "I'll be at home if she needs anything."
Rupert felt anxious on his walk home, no doubt compounded by Buffy's anxiety at seeing her father. Their joined heartbeat had been a comforting background noise throughout the evening, and while a general melancholy had hung over him, Rupert couldn't help but be happy. He could hardly believe the events of the day, the telepathy had proven to be an asset almost immediately, rather than the hindrance he had feared it would be. It had allowed them to plan, to give each other support and to become certain of their choice. Their certitude had surprised him. After years of tentatively showing his love, attempting to tell her how he felt, Buffy had seen him and accepted what he was, not grudgingly, but completely, and he felt joy in his love.
He couldn't help but hum on his walk home, even though he knew hours of research lay ahead him. Buffy had seemed satisfied that the attunement had, in fact, been completed, but Rupert felt that they were still operating blindly and he needed more information before he could truly be comfortable with his new situation, and now Buffy understood why he needed to have all that information available to him. His knowledge was his security, just like Slayer-strength was hers.
*********
Dawn walked into the living room, she held two mugs of hot cocoa in her hands and as she reached the couch, she offered one to her father. She was a bit surprised that he took it. She settled into the couch next to her dad, he put his arm around her and she nestled her head into his shoulder.
Hank took a sip of the cocoa and looked down at Dawn, "How are you holding up, kiddo?"
"Okay. It's still sinking in." Her voice was tired and she missed her mom, but the more tired she was the harder it was to stay sad. "So, do you think I'm crazy?"
"I think you've had a rough time lately." Hank gave her a squeeze and kissed her on the top of her head.
"It's all true, you know. Everything I told you. I didn't make up any of it." Dawn needed him to believe her, as surely as she had needed him to come to Sunnydale.
"That's what Mr. Giles said." Hank took a deep breath and set down his cocoa, "Listen, Dawn, I don't know what to think. I came here with every intention of knocking that Mr. Giles so far out of here, he'd think Pluto was home. But he said some things, in a very non sequitur sort of way, that made it hard for me to beat him senseless."
"He really loves Buffy. He takes care of her." Dawn paused and then said shakily, "He takes care of all of us."
"Well, it's nice to know that someone does. I know I haven't been here for you, Dawn, and I'm sorry. I'd like for it to be different."
"You've said that before and we never see you. You didn't even tell us when you moved last time."
Dawn realized that Hank was crying, his breathing was ragged and he sobbed, "I'm a horrible father. I just can't believe she's really gone."
"But you came here, now." She put her arms around her dad and tried not to cry too hard with him.
"I wasn't going to. I really wasn't. I was going to let you and Buffy deal with it alone."
"What changed?" Dawn pulled away from him and wiped her nose on her sleeve, something she hadn't done since she was little.
Hank sat in silence for a minute, and tried to gain some composure. He looked at Dawn and couldn't help himself, "Does she really kill vampires?"
"She does, but she can tell you about it." Dawn knew that he wouldn't let her off that easy.
"I think you're supposed to tell me this stuff."
"Yeah, well, what do you want to know?"
"How?" Hank grabbed his cocoa and got up, and he paced around the room, "And why? Why Mr. Giles?"
Dawn drank her cocoa, thinking of the best way to answer her father. "Well, we don't know exactly why or how, just that 'into every generation A Slayer is born.'"
Hank listened to Dawn recount the legend of The Slayer, the story of The Watchers Council and the true history of the world and the demons that ruled it before humans were a step on the evolutionary ladder.