Disclaimer: All characters belong to the incredible Mr. Whedon. Bless you
and your deranged little mind Joss.
Pairing: B/A
Rating: Still fairly PG-13 for right now.
A/N: I know, it's been forever. You wanna know why? Because my computer's on crack, that's why! Something went funky on the E drive and I lost so much stuff. Ugh, you should have seen it; there were tears, screams, death, and oddly enough, some childhood friends came back to visit. Yeah, I know I have issues. But updates should be quicker now, and since this is only Part 1 of this chapter, the next update will be in a few days.
Thanks for your patience!
And no worries, the good B/Aness will be in just a couple of chapters. So, enjoy!
Thanks to: Angel/Buffy, Michelle, RachyRedHead (you're a doll!), Kendra3, Octoburn, Fiona, Meg586, Rory3, SaffronAngel, Rebecka, kathleen, Nelo (yeah, I am pretty twisted), Chris, LissaMarie, buffster, angelicxws, Queen Boadicea, shahid, Emba (hun, if I don't see an update soon...grrr!), Tariq, and Alicia08 (don't hit too hard!)
You guys kick ass!
Dedicated to: Fire. You annoy me, I annoy you, I'm glad our friendship works out.
*****************************************************
Well, isn't this a nice, normal picture. There's my dad, sitting a couple of chairs away from me, reading the newspaper about some new murder (for some reason, there's an abnormal amount of deaths in Sunnydale, I blame the teachers at schooll). Then there's my mom at the stove, trying to make pancakes in the shape of Disney characters, though Mickey Mouse usually comes out looking like he was in some helicopter accident. And of course, here I am, finishing up the last of my homework, or attempting to anyway. To anyone looking in, we'd be the perfect 7th Heaven family. Except that we don't go to church all that often, and the tinsy little fact that my mother's having an affair.
His name is Angel by the way, the guy that my mom's seeing. Angel.
Anyone else think that's the sissiest name ever? Not that Buffy's any better, but you get what I mean. I found out a couple of nights ago; lets just say I heard it loud and clear from my mom's bedroom. Please, don't add on any additional imagery, I'm already disturbed as it is.
But back to me and my mother's burnt pancakes, I'm beginning to think that my mom knows that I know more then I should. She keeps frowning at me every now and then, but not in a 'I-can't-believed-you-flunked-another-math-test' way, but more of a 'I-hope-I'm-raising-you-right-and-you-won't-grow-up- psychotic' kind of way. Then again, I did flunk another algebra test the other day, so maybe I'm imagining it.
"Hey Buff," says my Dad, and I can tell she's cringing from here; she hates being called Buff.
"Yes,*Ry*," she replies.
"Did you see this article in the paper? The one about Marina Crownsed?" he asks, completely oblivious.
"No, what's it about?"
"Apparently there was a large dispute between her and her husband. He ended up shooting her in the head, there was blood everywhere," he said.
Ugh. Thanks for that lovely picture dad, now how will I eat Mickey?
"He suspected she was having an affair," dad continued, "with the plumber of all people."
My mom's grip on the chair was tight enough to make the wood splinter. "How 'bout that," she said, her mouth in a straight line.
"It's amazing what happen to some people nowadays," my dad kept going, not noticing that my mother was endangering an innocent chair's life.
"It sure is," she let go of the chair and went to pour herself some orange juice.
Dad looked at his watch and folded the paper. "Well, I've gotta go. Walsh would have no problem firing me if I'm late." He got up and kissed me on the cheek, "Bye Princess."
"Bye daddy," I said, trying to get the syrup to make a funny face.
"Bye Buffy," he tried to kiss her on the lips, but she turned her head slightly so he met with her cheek. He didn't notice, and he grabbed his suitcase and left out the door.
The room was really quiet, and I could tell my mother was thinking extremely deep thoughts. Way too deep for me.
"Uh, mom?" I question, trying to bring her back down to earth.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine," she answers, "We should get you to school. You need to learn and stuff."
"Right," I said.
**************************************************************
You know those days when you think it can't get any worse, but then some idiot says "Well look at it this way, it can't get any worse?", and then it rains and everybody dies? Yeah, that's the day that I'm having. So I'm at school, right this moment, doing my best not to pass out in my chair from surprise. There he is. Angel. Angel O'Connor. Standing directly in front of me. I see his name written on the board, with the word "Substitute" underneath it.
Oh. My. God.
This can't be happening! He cannot be my substitute! Not that I have any mushy feelings towards Mrs. Najul, but no way in Hell can this jerk be standing there, looking at me, looking at everyone else, getting prepared to teach.
This isn't happening.
He smiles, and I can already see Courtney and some other chicks swooning (even though he's frikkin' forty!), but since I know where those lips have been, I try not to look directly at 'em.
"Hello. I'm Mr. O'Connor. I'll be substituting for Mrs. Najul, and don't ask me when she'll be back because I have no idea." He walked around the desk and leaned up against it. "I don't expect any of us to be friends soon, and I don't really want to concentrate on getting to know all of you, considering that my life is fairly complicated."
He looks at me expectantly, like I should know something. And I do know something, but how dare he assume anything!?
"So, that being said, I would like you all to open to page 153 in you history books and tell me what you know about indentured servants," said Angel, scanning his eyes around the room, purposely missing my gaze. As usual, no one raised their hands, because, well, no one knows the answer.
Did I mention that this can't be happening?
"Right then. We'll take some notes," he turned and walked over the chalk board, scribbling down things in a fairly neat hand. "An indentured servant was someone who was not able to pay their way from their home country to the New World, so they ended up working once they set shore to some of the more wealthier settlers to get out of debt. Now, who can tell me where these people were from." Again, no hands were raised. He frowned and went to his desk and picked up a piece of paper.
"Christina Finn," he said, knowing fully well who I am, but still tried to look around for me.
"It's just Tina," I say tightly, wondering if I could stab him with my ball- point pen.
"Okay, Tina. What countries did these people descend from?"
How the hell should I know? I don't do my homework! "Umm, Ireland?"
"Perfect. Yes, Ireland "supplied" many of the indentured servants because the country was so poor..." he kept talking, and people were actually taking notes. Except for Courtney. She was drooling.
Seriously! This can't be happening!
The rest of the class went like that; Mr. O'Connor pretending, me pretending, Courtney drooling. I couldn't believe it though! Here was the guy that I had already sworn to hate for the rest of my life, and he was teaching me about Benjamin Franklin. What the heck is up with universe? This guy made my mother sneak around her husband and her daughter's back just to get some. He was tearing my family apart slowly but surely, and he obviously had an extent knowledge of Ireland.
When the bell rang, he told me to stay after class, making me sweat like a prostitute in church.
"Yeah, what do you want?" I asked a bit harshly.
"I know you know," he said simply, sitting down and leaning back into Mrs. Nujal's chair.
I stared at him. How are you supposed to respond to that? 'Ah, gee, thanks for noticing Mr. O'Connor. Your observational skills have truly inspired me to hone my own so now I can know everything that you do to my mother! Now if you don't mind, I have an excruciating math class to go to. Have a great day!'
Somehow I don't think that would go over well.
"Yeah? So?" I finally ask, my bitterness beginning to slip through.
"I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want to hurt your mother, because I don't think I can cause her more pain," he took a deep breathe, "Tell me. What do you want to happen?"
'For you to die a horrible, painful, bloody death, preferably with a sword through your heart,' I think automatically, but not wanting to say it out loud. Why didn't I say it? He doesn't want to hurt my mother. Again. Which means that they have a history, which means that this far more complicated then I previously thought.
But most of all, *I* don't want to hurt my mother.
"I don't know what I want to happen," I say, feeling slightly helpless. "I don't know what to do in this situation; I've never been in this situation."
He smiled. "Me either." He reached over and took out a lumpy envelope. "Give this to your mother, tell her you know. Maybe you two can figure out a solution."
I hesitated, knowing that if I took that envelope, I could be making the biggest mistake of my life. And trust me, I've made many mistakes.
I nodded, and took it from him, noticing that he had a ring on his left hand.
"Are you married too?" I ask, gaining more curiosity on this man.
"No. Not now anyway." His eyes spoke the implications, and I again didn't know how to respond.
I shook my head, trying to get back to reality. "I need a pass."
"Of course," he wrote one down, I thanked him, and left the class to go to my locker.
Did that really just happen?
************************************************************
TBC... the next part should be up in a couple of days, that is if my computer comes back healthy from rehab.
Pairing: B/A
Rating: Still fairly PG-13 for right now.
A/N: I know, it's been forever. You wanna know why? Because my computer's on crack, that's why! Something went funky on the E drive and I lost so much stuff. Ugh, you should have seen it; there were tears, screams, death, and oddly enough, some childhood friends came back to visit. Yeah, I know I have issues. But updates should be quicker now, and since this is only Part 1 of this chapter, the next update will be in a few days.
Thanks for your patience!
And no worries, the good B/Aness will be in just a couple of chapters. So, enjoy!
Thanks to: Angel/Buffy, Michelle, RachyRedHead (you're a doll!), Kendra3, Octoburn, Fiona, Meg586, Rory3, SaffronAngel, Rebecka, kathleen, Nelo (yeah, I am pretty twisted), Chris, LissaMarie, buffster, angelicxws, Queen Boadicea, shahid, Emba (hun, if I don't see an update soon...grrr!), Tariq, and Alicia08 (don't hit too hard!)
You guys kick ass!
Dedicated to: Fire. You annoy me, I annoy you, I'm glad our friendship works out.
*****************************************************
Well, isn't this a nice, normal picture. There's my dad, sitting a couple of chairs away from me, reading the newspaper about some new murder (for some reason, there's an abnormal amount of deaths in Sunnydale, I blame the teachers at schooll). Then there's my mom at the stove, trying to make pancakes in the shape of Disney characters, though Mickey Mouse usually comes out looking like he was in some helicopter accident. And of course, here I am, finishing up the last of my homework, or attempting to anyway. To anyone looking in, we'd be the perfect 7th Heaven family. Except that we don't go to church all that often, and the tinsy little fact that my mother's having an affair.
His name is Angel by the way, the guy that my mom's seeing. Angel.
Anyone else think that's the sissiest name ever? Not that Buffy's any better, but you get what I mean. I found out a couple of nights ago; lets just say I heard it loud and clear from my mom's bedroom. Please, don't add on any additional imagery, I'm already disturbed as it is.
But back to me and my mother's burnt pancakes, I'm beginning to think that my mom knows that I know more then I should. She keeps frowning at me every now and then, but not in a 'I-can't-believed-you-flunked-another-math-test' way, but more of a 'I-hope-I'm-raising-you-right-and-you-won't-grow-up- psychotic' kind of way. Then again, I did flunk another algebra test the other day, so maybe I'm imagining it.
"Hey Buff," says my Dad, and I can tell she's cringing from here; she hates being called Buff.
"Yes,*Ry*," she replies.
"Did you see this article in the paper? The one about Marina Crownsed?" he asks, completely oblivious.
"No, what's it about?"
"Apparently there was a large dispute between her and her husband. He ended up shooting her in the head, there was blood everywhere," he said.
Ugh. Thanks for that lovely picture dad, now how will I eat Mickey?
"He suspected she was having an affair," dad continued, "with the plumber of all people."
My mom's grip on the chair was tight enough to make the wood splinter. "How 'bout that," she said, her mouth in a straight line.
"It's amazing what happen to some people nowadays," my dad kept going, not noticing that my mother was endangering an innocent chair's life.
"It sure is," she let go of the chair and went to pour herself some orange juice.
Dad looked at his watch and folded the paper. "Well, I've gotta go. Walsh would have no problem firing me if I'm late." He got up and kissed me on the cheek, "Bye Princess."
"Bye daddy," I said, trying to get the syrup to make a funny face.
"Bye Buffy," he tried to kiss her on the lips, but she turned her head slightly so he met with her cheek. He didn't notice, and he grabbed his suitcase and left out the door.
The room was really quiet, and I could tell my mother was thinking extremely deep thoughts. Way too deep for me.
"Uh, mom?" I question, trying to bring her back down to earth.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine," she answers, "We should get you to school. You need to learn and stuff."
"Right," I said.
**************************************************************
You know those days when you think it can't get any worse, but then some idiot says "Well look at it this way, it can't get any worse?", and then it rains and everybody dies? Yeah, that's the day that I'm having. So I'm at school, right this moment, doing my best not to pass out in my chair from surprise. There he is. Angel. Angel O'Connor. Standing directly in front of me. I see his name written on the board, with the word "Substitute" underneath it.
Oh. My. God.
This can't be happening! He cannot be my substitute! Not that I have any mushy feelings towards Mrs. Najul, but no way in Hell can this jerk be standing there, looking at me, looking at everyone else, getting prepared to teach.
This isn't happening.
He smiles, and I can already see Courtney and some other chicks swooning (even though he's frikkin' forty!), but since I know where those lips have been, I try not to look directly at 'em.
"Hello. I'm Mr. O'Connor. I'll be substituting for Mrs. Najul, and don't ask me when she'll be back because I have no idea." He walked around the desk and leaned up against it. "I don't expect any of us to be friends soon, and I don't really want to concentrate on getting to know all of you, considering that my life is fairly complicated."
He looks at me expectantly, like I should know something. And I do know something, but how dare he assume anything!?
"So, that being said, I would like you all to open to page 153 in you history books and tell me what you know about indentured servants," said Angel, scanning his eyes around the room, purposely missing my gaze. As usual, no one raised their hands, because, well, no one knows the answer.
Did I mention that this can't be happening?
"Right then. We'll take some notes," he turned and walked over the chalk board, scribbling down things in a fairly neat hand. "An indentured servant was someone who was not able to pay their way from their home country to the New World, so they ended up working once they set shore to some of the more wealthier settlers to get out of debt. Now, who can tell me where these people were from." Again, no hands were raised. He frowned and went to his desk and picked up a piece of paper.
"Christina Finn," he said, knowing fully well who I am, but still tried to look around for me.
"It's just Tina," I say tightly, wondering if I could stab him with my ball- point pen.
"Okay, Tina. What countries did these people descend from?"
How the hell should I know? I don't do my homework! "Umm, Ireland?"
"Perfect. Yes, Ireland "supplied" many of the indentured servants because the country was so poor..." he kept talking, and people were actually taking notes. Except for Courtney. She was drooling.
Seriously! This can't be happening!
The rest of the class went like that; Mr. O'Connor pretending, me pretending, Courtney drooling. I couldn't believe it though! Here was the guy that I had already sworn to hate for the rest of my life, and he was teaching me about Benjamin Franklin. What the heck is up with universe? This guy made my mother sneak around her husband and her daughter's back just to get some. He was tearing my family apart slowly but surely, and he obviously had an extent knowledge of Ireland.
When the bell rang, he told me to stay after class, making me sweat like a prostitute in church.
"Yeah, what do you want?" I asked a bit harshly.
"I know you know," he said simply, sitting down and leaning back into Mrs. Nujal's chair.
I stared at him. How are you supposed to respond to that? 'Ah, gee, thanks for noticing Mr. O'Connor. Your observational skills have truly inspired me to hone my own so now I can know everything that you do to my mother! Now if you don't mind, I have an excruciating math class to go to. Have a great day!'
Somehow I don't think that would go over well.
"Yeah? So?" I finally ask, my bitterness beginning to slip through.
"I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want to hurt your mother, because I don't think I can cause her more pain," he took a deep breathe, "Tell me. What do you want to happen?"
'For you to die a horrible, painful, bloody death, preferably with a sword through your heart,' I think automatically, but not wanting to say it out loud. Why didn't I say it? He doesn't want to hurt my mother. Again. Which means that they have a history, which means that this far more complicated then I previously thought.
But most of all, *I* don't want to hurt my mother.
"I don't know what I want to happen," I say, feeling slightly helpless. "I don't know what to do in this situation; I've never been in this situation."
He smiled. "Me either." He reached over and took out a lumpy envelope. "Give this to your mother, tell her you know. Maybe you two can figure out a solution."
I hesitated, knowing that if I took that envelope, I could be making the biggest mistake of my life. And trust me, I've made many mistakes.
I nodded, and took it from him, noticing that he had a ring on his left hand.
"Are you married too?" I ask, gaining more curiosity on this man.
"No. Not now anyway." His eyes spoke the implications, and I again didn't know how to respond.
I shook my head, trying to get back to reality. "I need a pass."
"Of course," he wrote one down, I thanked him, and left the class to go to my locker.
Did that really just happen?
************************************************************
TBC... the next part should be up in a couple of days, that is if my computer comes back healthy from rehab.