Home Again - Part 3

It was another four hours before they were ready to go shopping, with much of that time taken up by an argument between Buffy and Giles. After she emerged from her long-awaited shower and got dressed, he told her he would drive them to the mall. He vaguely remembered one of Buffy's tirades about how difficult it was to find the current fashions, even there, but didn't think any of them was up to a shopping trip to L.A.

"Wal-Mart is fine," she said, dismissing his plans without a second thought.

"But you hate Wal-Mart. I'm sure of it," he answered with a puzzled look.

"There's nothing wrong with Wal-Mart that a little less corporate dependence on polyester wouldn't cure. We're not going to the mall." Her face was getting a bit stormy, so Annie wandered over to one of the bookshelves. She had no intention of getting dragged into the middle of their spat.

"Is it the money? Because I can certainly afford a trip to the mall to clothe the two of you," he answered as he tried to understand her inexplicable refusal to go to the one place in Sunnydale she'd actually seemed to like. He fought back his rising ire, reminding himself sternly that she'd literally been to Hell and back, so her behavior would likely reflect that for some time to come. 'Patience and understanding, Rupert,' he reminded himself. 'She needs patience and understanding, or she'll just go away again.'

"It's not the money, and as soon as we can convert some of our stuff to cash, I'll pay you back," she said as she stalked past him. She didn't understand why he was making such a big deal out of this. She'd told him where she wanted to go, so that should be the end of it.

"Convert —?" He frowned as he digested that piece of information, then put it away for the time being as useless to the discussion at hand. "I'm not — I don't — Buffy, stand still and answer me. Why not the mall?"

From there, the argument devolved into a shouting match in fairly short order, with neither combatant willing to back down an inch. Annie buried her nose in a book to hide her smile. Uncle Rupert reminded her very much of her father, just then, in his unwillingness to let Buffy get away with anything without a good explanation. She was also relieved that her mother was starting to behave normally again. Annie wasn't sure how much more of her mother's bizarre personality change she could take, even though it was nice to see her smile and not take things so seriously.

The shouting itself didn't bother her. She'd grown up in the middle of an army, and yelling was part and parcel of the atmosphere. If she'd cowered in her mother's tent every time someone raised their voice, she never would have gotten to know anyone. She could tell Uncle Rupert was holding his own, and she figured the two of them would get it sorted out eventually — and they probably wouldn't even resort to a duel.

As for the cause of the dissent, she had no opinion one way or the other. The shopping itself would be a novelty, and she looked forward to participating in what she regarded as a rite of passage for human females. She just hoped she wouldn't disappoint her mother and fail to find the right clothing at the right price. She was perhaps making a bit much of the event, but her mother's stories about shopping at something called sales had been some of her favorites. They ranked second only to the stories about Uncle Rupert.

As she skimmed through Morley's "Compendium of Demonic Dimensions," Annie kept half an ear on the two adults. It wasn't until her mother said, "I don't want to run into anyone I know," that Uncle Rupert finally gave in and stopped arguing the point.

"You could have just said that from the start," he said, still a bit irate with her.

"You could have just taken me at my word," she said, her own voice heating up again slightly.

Not wishing to sit through another hour of a pointless discussion, Annie broke in, saying, "But then I never would have been treated to one of your exciting fights, right? Let's go already. I wanna shop."

Giles and Buffy looked at her, both suddenly devoid of any will to continue the battle. He looked at Buffy and said, "She's your daughter. No question of that."

Still looking at Annie, she answered, "As if there ever were. Let's load 'em up and head 'em out."

~*~*~


Once at the store, Annie quickly lost her uncertainty and dove headfirst into the delight of having new, clean clothes to try on and accept or discard as she wished. If she noticed the reactions of the other shoppers to her or her mother, she gave no sign. As for Buffy, she looked around and spotted an older woman who looked thin to the point of emaciation. She was the one staring hardest, so Buffy returned the look with one of her own. It had been the same stare she used to good effect whenever she interrogated prisoners. George used to tell her the look — predatory and certain — was unnerving. It seemed that Mrs. Sunnydale Shopper agreed with George. She broke eye contact first and wheeled her cart away. Those who'd witnessed the silent confrontation also found they had other things to do.

Through it all, Giles just watched, mildly disturbed by the blatant dominance games Buffy was playing with the other shoppers. To a greater extent, he could see her point. She looked very different from the typical Wal-Mart shopper, and settling the issue now might prevent a later confrontation. To a lesser extent, though, he felt for the woman. Only demons deserved a Buffy-style glare.

He shook off his disquiet and stayed with Buffy. She found the clothing section, and they both looked through the casual wear racks, neither of them saying very much. Thinking back to their argument, he said, "You'll have to face them at some point. You won't be able to avoid them forever."

"Wanna bet?" Her voice was light, but he could see the tension in her posture.

"It's been over twenty years — for you, at any rate — isn't it time to forgive them?" He pulled out a t-shirt he thought she might like and handed it to her.

"It hurt, Giles," she said quietly, looking down at the shirt he'd handed her. "Killing Angel was bad enough, but I knew it was the right thing to do. Knowing I saved the world helped me get through the pain, if not the bitterness." She looked up at him and continued, "But Willow and Xander — Why tell me to kick his ass if they knew they were trying to ensoul him? Were they trying to punish me for being stupid enough to fall in love with a vampire?"

His heart broke at the sight of her anguish, and he could see that she'd been struggling with this question ever since she left. "I don't know, Buffy. I really don't," he said, wanting to offer a hug, but uncertain of her reaction. "But I must say that Willow's message to you didn't make any sense."

"You mean when she said to kick his ass?" She frowned, focusing on the memory. "But that's what Xander —"

She broke off as they looked at each other, both coming to the same conclusion at the same time. Giles started with, "He wouldn't —"

Buffy finished with, "He would. He was being a complete jerk. Remember what he was like when I told you guys about Jenny's spell?" She couldn't believe it had taken her this long to figure it out, but really, after those first few months in Hell, she hadn't done much thinking about anyone in Sunnydale — except for Giles and her mother.

"All too clearly," he answered as he recalled coming close to beating the boy to a bloody pulp. It had been several months, but the thought of it still was enough to ignite his rage.

"How much you wanna bet that wasn't Willow's message at all?" Her face tightened, and her scars stood out in stark relief against the rest of her skin. "You have to find out for me."

He nodded in agreement and said, "Tomorrow's Labor Day, so I won't see them until Tuesday. I'll talk to Willow then."

"What will you say?" She hated being so uncertain — she'd led an army, for Pete's sake — but at this moment, with everything else that had happened, it was one thing too many to deal with.

He put his hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and said, "I'm not sure, but I'll find out somehow. Don't worry. I won't tell her about you and Annie until you're ready."

She nodded, still unhappy, but she suddenly felt better about Willow than she had in years. It was too late to renew their friendship — she had too many years on her compared to the girl — but it wasn't too late to forgive. And speaking of forgiveness, "You can drop me at Mom's house on the way back."

"Buffy —" He was shaking his head even as she interrupted.

"It's not your problem. You've already had to put up with more from her than anyone not related by blood should have to. I remember her well enough to have a good idea of just how sharp her tongue got," she said in a tone of voice she normally reserved for recalcitrant generals.

It was enough to make him pause in his objections. He'd heard Buffy take command of a situation before, but that was when she was still little more than a child. Her tone with him just then brought to mind his Great Uncle Percival, who had served as a major in the Great War. That, even more than the signs of age on her face, was a forcible reminder that she was now an adult. He wanted to spare her this meeting with her mother, but it was clear she didn't need or want his protection in this matter. Nodding finally, he said, "Very well."

A spark of mischief lit up her face, and she said, "That's it? No more arguing? Yay me. I won!"

With a wry expression, he said, "It suddenly occurred to me that you're almost as old as I am. You don't need me to fight your battles anymore."

"Not all of them," she agreed. "But that doesn't mean I don't need you." She brought him in for a hug, deciding on the spot that they hadn't done nearly enough of this sort of thing before she ran away. And really, the man gave better hug than she would have given him credit for when she was seventeen.

Their moment of reconciliation was interrupted by Annie's return and announcement that she had chosen what she wanted and was ready to leave. "Now, please," she said, the plea in her voice.

Giles looked at her, concerned, and asked, "Too much for you?"

"Kind of. Demons are easier to be around. They don't stare as much," Annie said, handing her stack to her mother.

Buffy dropped her own selections into the shopping cart, then started to go through Annie's choices. She was amused by all the bright colors and wondered how she planned to combine the different pieces.

After she added Annie's pile to the cart, Buffy said, "I know what you mean about the staring, but we'll fit in soon enough. Anyway, we're almost ready, but somehow, I don't think Uncle Rupert is all that interested in shopping for bras and panties and other unmentionables."

His sudden flush was enough of an answer, and Buffy herded her daughter gently toward the appropriate department. A half-hour later, the three of them caught up to each other and headed toward the checkout. "I can't believe how many incredibly beautiful things there are here," Annie said, her eyes still alight with excitement as she continued to scan the store.

Giles frowned, then tried to look at it from her point of view. "I suppose you're right, though I'm not sure I would have used that turn of phrase to describe the contents of a Wal-Mart," he said, a slight smile on his face.

"Never thought I would either," Buffy said. "But compared to Hell, anything in this world is bound to look better."

Annie looked from her mother to Uncle Rupert, then said, "I'm missing something, aren't I?"

"Just a touch of snobbery, dear," he answered. "Nothing for you to worry over."

"Whatever. So what's next?" Annie asked.

"I'm — uh — Uncle Rupert is gonna drop me off at Grandma Joyce's house," Buffy answered. "I thought the two of you could get acquainted while I'm gone. Maybe you can tell him how we got home."

"Or maybe I could tell him about Daddy?" Annie played with her hair as she waited for her mother's reaction.

Buffy smiled and said, "I think that would be the perfect thing."

~*~*~


Giles pulled away from the curb as soon as Buffy got out a few houses up from her mother's. She told him she didn't want to give Joyce any more ammunition than strictly necessary, and he agreed with her even as he deplored the reasoning behind her comment. Annie took the opportunity to slip into the front seat when Buffy got out.

As they headed back to his apartment, she said, "I wonder how long she'll be?"

"Depends on how long it takes to convince Joyce that she's really her daughter," he said, glancing at her briefly.

"So should I plan to make camp for the next few weeks, or should I pack our gear to leave quickly?"

He let loose a sharp bark of laughter and said, "I'm not really sure. Your mother comes by her stubbornness honestly, and I doubt she'll leave until Joyce at least concedes the possibility that her daughter was in a hell dimension and is now quite a bit older."

Annie nodded sagely and said, "No need to tell me about it. I've been on the wrong side of one of Mom's stubborn streaks. I feel sorry for Grandma Joyce."

"I feel sorry for them both" he said, serious once more. "It's hard enough to find one's footing with a parent when both have aged at the same rate."

Annie turned in her seat to face him and said, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"You. I haven't seen you get completely weird yet, so you must be doing okay, right?"

With her head cocked to the side just so, it was all he could do not to call her "Buffy" when he answered, "I'm much better at hiding my emotions than Buffy and Joyce are."

"Is that what British reserve means?" Her voice blended curiosity and amusement in equal measure.

"Where on earth did you hear that phrase?"

"Daddy. He was from Ireland," she said.

"Ah. In that case, I imagine he had quite a bit more than that to say about the British."

Her chuckle was all the answer he needed. He invited, "Tell me about him?"

"He was a researcher before he landed there. He'd been studying the origins of the Vorgule class of demonic languages when he was taken. They needed someone like him," she said softly. "They needed someone who could learn new languages quickly so they could communicate with their slaves. He was the perfect choice."

Giles frowned at that. It didn't jibe with what Buffy told him earlier, so he said, "But I thought humans were only used in the factories."

Annie was silent for so long that he took a quick look, just to be sure she was still sitting there. He jumped slightly when he saw her staring intensely at him. "Have you ever heard of braachen demons?"

The question came out of left field, and he said, "What?"

"Braachens. Have you ever heard of them?" Her voice lost none of her intensity.

"Well — yes. I have. They're sort of — er — balancing demons. They're a bit like humans in that taken as a whole, they're neither particularly good nor particularly evil," he said, slipping effortlessly into lecture mode as he turned onto his street. "The original group claimed they were escaping from war in their own dimension."

He was pulling up to the curb in front of his building when she said, "Do you know where they ended up here?"

He turned off the key and said, "Well, yes. In Ire —" He blinked, then turned to her and finished, "In Ireland. About three hundred years ago, if I recall correctly."

"What else do you know about them?" She continued to watch him, and he thought perhaps she was waiting for him to react negatively.

"In general, they're fairly peaceful, though they've been known to join their Irish hosts in battle against the English. They're stronger than humans, but they prefer academic rather than physical pursuits." When she didn't say anything, he continued, "I believe a great many of them emigrated to the United States and Canada during the years of the potato famine."

"Many, but not all," she confirmed. She took a deep breath and said, "Daddy was half braachen. On his ma's side."

Giles held himself still. She had led him gently to the information, so it wasn't as much of a shock as it might have been otherwise. He waited to see if he was upset by the news, but he was interested to find that he wasn't. Whoever Annie's father had been, Buffy had loved him well enough to have a child with him. Human, demon or combination, his genetic heritage was largely irrelevant, once Buffy's love was taken into account. He firmly repressed the memory of Angel.

Cocking his head slightly, he said, "That explains why he didn't end up in the factories, then."

She hadn't realized how tense she'd become until she saw that he wasn't upset over the fact that she was part demon. She didn't try to stop herself as she pushed awkwardly across the seat to give him a hug.

"What's this for, then?" He tried to pat her back, but she'd completely pinned his right arm to his body, and her other hand grasped his upper left arm.

"Just for being the way Mom said you would be. She was pretty sure you wouldn't go pralitz. She figured you'd be pretty happy, considering her last boyfriend was a vampire," she said, her voice muffled because her face was buried in his shoulder.

He sat there feeling awkward and ill-equipped to handle the girl's affection. When he judged the embrace had gone on long enough, he moved away from her a bit to look at her face and asked, "Pralitz?"

~*~*~


Buffy sat perfectly still on her mother's couch. For the last three hours or so, she'd been treated with disbelief, disrespect and dismay. She'd spent the first thirty minutes on the porch, trying to recall every single memory that would mean something only to her and Joyce before she was finally permitted entry. Even then, Joyce had gone on the assumption that Buffy was lying about who she was, and so the next two hours, she was accused of treachery one minute and being accepted as Buffy the next.

Joyce was still going fairly strong in her accusations, but it was clear she had run out of new and vicious accusations. Buffy reminded herself every few minutes that all she had to do was wait Joyce out, and that for a woman who'd run more sieges than she cared to think about, it was a fairly small task.

At the moment, her mind was only barely engaged by Joyce's rant. For the most part, she was running through a list of things to take care of or to ask Giles to handle. Getting a revised birth certificate for herself and one for Annie was at the top of her list. Without that paperwork, neither would be able to get a passport to go visit George's parents in Ireland. Social security cards would also be nice, and she figured the Watchers' Council could help with that stuff. She'd heard quite a few stories in Hell about the organization that was ostensibly fighting for the side of good, and none of the tales was pleasant. Of course, there was a certain bias in that demons were the ones to relay the information, but the rumors and stories had been fairly consistent, with concrete details usually lacking in urban legends.

"Are you even listening?" Joyce had stopped pacing and stood there, glaring down at her.

"Sorry, but no. You started to repeat yourself an hour ago, so I didn't see the point," Buffy said equably. "Did I miss something new?"

"Don't you dare get smart with me, young lady!" Her tone sounded exactly as it always did when Joyce used those particular words on her.

"So are you ready to finally admit I'm Buffy?" She looked up at her mother and waited with a neutral expression. Joyce's anger seemed like it might still be going strong, and Buffy didn't want to throw gasoline on an open flame.

The question, however, deflated her mother. After a small sigh, Joyce's face started to crumble a bit. As the tears started to flow, she said, "I just can't believe that you —" When she started crying harder, Buffy stood up to lead her to the couch to sit down. It felt strange to comfort her mother, but really, it wasn't much different than holding Annie during a weeping spell.

Joyce's tears eventually slowed down, and she looked at the woman her daughter had become. She wasn't happy with what she saw, and that wasn't even taking the scars into account. Buffy's face had taken on a hard look — one that said she'd been through too much to ever be soft again. It was a face that had been witness to cruelty and death beyond imagining, and it was a face that looked as if its owner may have been responsible for at least part of what it had seen. For a moment, Joyce looked at her daughter and was afraid — and then the moment passed. Buffy's face simply looked older and a bit colder.

She shivered slightly before moving out of her daughter's arms and saying, "When did you get back?"

Buffy forbore mentioning that she'd already told her twice. Joyce hadn't been in the mood to listen earlier, but now she might actually absorb what she was told. "Yesterday morning, just after midnight," she said, watching her mother's face tighten at the information.

"And you're only just now stopping by to visit?"

It hadn't been easy, but George had managed to teach her a certain amount of patience. Buffy took a long, slow breath before answering, "Since I was asleep for almost thirty of those hours, I don't think you have much to complain about."

Joyce bit back her immediate response with a visible effort. Her daughter had returned — more than twenty years older, yes — but she had returned. Her baby was home, and now was not the time to get into another fight. "I haven't changed your room at all. I kept it for when you came back."

Buffy blinked. Joyce's statement made it clear that she expected her to move in and continue as before, but that was impossible. She braced herself for another tirade before explaining, "We're staying with Giles."

She wasn't disappointed. Joyce's face grew an alarming shade of red as she spit out, "That man. If it weren't for him —"

"— I would be dead. Period. End of discussion. He's not the one who chose me, Mom. He's the one who taught me well enough that I managed to stay alive for over twenty years in the middle of a war," Buffy said firmly. She wanted this particular nonsense between her mother and her Watcher to end, because if it came down to a choice between one or the other, she would choose Giles. She wouldn't be happy about it, but of the people she'd wanted to see again, he had been at the top of her list.

On top of that, she was faintly amazed that Joyce had ignored fourteen different statements that indicated she hadn't returned alone. She was beginning to wonder if her mother would ever get around to questioning her constant use of the word, "we."

"You were seventeen years old, and you had this relationship I knew nothing about with a man old enough to be your father," Joyce said, her tone sharp, her pain clear.

"Don't make it sound like that! We've never had sex — he's never even so much as looked at me the wrong way — and I won't have you accusing him of seducing a minor," she answered, her voice low and a more than a little angry. "As for the secrecy, kindly recall that the last time I tried to tell you about vampires, you and Dad put me in a mental institution."

She made no effort to soften the reminder, because she wasn't willing to ignore that little piece of family history any longer. She'd allowed it to shape her decisions when they first came to Sunnydale, and in the end, it led to a different kind of madness. If Joyce couldn't deal with her own responsibility in the event that led to Buffy's determination to hide her calling, then all bets were off.

Joyce cringed inside when Buffy spoke of that time. She and Hank honestly thought they were doing the right thing for their daughter, and when she came home at last, they felt that talking about her delusions would only cause more problems. The two of them had been so determined to put it out of their mind that she hadn't even made the connection until Buffy mentioned it just then.

She couldn't look at Buffy when she said, "I'm sorry," but the words were the important thing.

"Accepted. And Giles?" She'd learned a great deal in the last twenty-one years. One of the most important lessons was to keep pushing during a negotiation until the primary points were won. Her mother didn't stand a chance against her, and Buffy realized she didn't feel even a little bad about that.

"I still —" Joyce stopped speaking when she looked up at Buffy's face. She had that cold look again, the one that had frightened her earlier, and she understood at last that either she accepted Giles as a fact of life or she wouldn't see Buffy again. For a brief moment, she thought perhaps that would be for the best, but then the memories came rushing in. And even in the stillness of her daughter's hard gaze, Joyce thought she could still see the little girl who played at being a superhero with her cousin.

She took another breath and began again, "Giles is a part of your life. I won't speak ill of him again."

"To anyone?" For the first time, Buffy started to feel a bit guilty about putting her mother through this, but she'd learned the hard way that loopholes were dangerous. She didn't want him getting fired because she failed at this moment.

Joyce felt and looked as if she'd just been slapped. Pride stiffened her spine, and with as much dignity as she could muster, she said, "Of course not. How could you even ask?"

It didn't show on her face or in her posture, but Buffy suddenly realized she'd gone too far. Her mother had her faults, but going back on her word wasn't one of them. "I apologize," she said as formally as possible. "I've had contact with too many politicians over the years, and they could weasel their way out of a contract with the devil if they thought it was in their best interest. I had no right lumping you in with them."

Despite the apology, Joyce was furious. She remembered the last time she'd gotten this angry, and she didn't want a repeat performance, but if Buffy stayed, that was what would most assuredly happen. In as calm a voice as she could manage, she answered, "Apology accepted. I think, however, it would be best if you returned to Mr. Giles' home. If we keep talking right now, we'll just end up where we were in May."

Buffy's response was as calm and stiff as her mother's. "I think you're right. Do you want to try again tomorrow?"

"How about tomorrow night? Perhaps you and Mr. Giles could come for dinner," she said, offering the only olive branch she could manage for the time being.

Buffy considered Joyce's counteroffer, but she wouldn't leave Annie alone this soon, and it clearly wasn't the day to make her mother understand she had a granddaughter. "No. I think you and I can handle this without a referee. We still have a few things to discuss, and I'm not sure either of us is up to having a witness just yet."

She stood up to go back to Giles' place, but she couldn't leave her mother's house just yet — not when they were both so stiff with one another. Her voice softened slightly as she added, "It's been hard for you, I know, but I really am glad to see you again, Mom."

Joyce's own posture softened in response, and she said, "Oh, baby — I'm glad to see you again, too."

For the moment, both of them meant every word, and it was enough.

to be continued...