Part 31: Domino Effects
Faith slipped into the backyard with a pack of her beloved Camels in hand to escape the tense atmosphere. Xander, Willow, Giles, Buffy, and Robin were actually working together—a frightening sight in and of itself—to convince Catherine to let them look at her Watcher's diary from 2008, but the woman steadfastly refused to give it up.
While no one was yelling or waving arms, Faith suspected that everyone was a short step away from breaking things.
She rounded the corner and stood under the kitchen window. One flick her lighter and she was drawing the smoke into her lungs with a relieved sigh.
Then again, maybe the tension wasn't so much the atmosphere in the house as it was lack of nicotine she decided as she snuggled up to the tingling sensation of an oncoming head rush. Oh, yeah. Totally addicted. Can't even handle cutting back. A patch was definitely in her future.
The backdoor slammed open and Faith peeked around the corner. Xander looked like he was on a real warpath while a more subdued Catherine followed in his wake. The one and only time she'd ever seen Xander this angry was back in the Dale after he found out Angel had returned from the dead and Buffy had lied about it.
Irresistible force? Meet brick wall, Faith thought as she sucked in more fumes. This should be a fucking trip. Ain't no way Catherine's gonna cave, even if we're in the right about wanting to see that damn journal. Shit. Last I checked they came to us for help. We tried it their way. Now we should get a crack.
"Fine. Privacy. Now will you explain to me why you won't show us the diary?" Xander spat as he paced around the Watcher Honoria. "And why the hell can you only tell me before we break it to the others? I'm not the Watcher around here. That's Giles's thankless job."
That's when Faith noticed that Catherine was clutching the leather-bound book in her arms. The expression on her face telegraphed uncertainty and something that looked a hell of a lot like fear.
Well, well, well. Looks like she's gonna spill after all, Faith nodded to herself in satisfaction. I wish I had me a bowl of popcorn.
"This journal…" Catherine cleared her throat and began again, "This journal has been in my family for generations. Since Tara, in fact. The Council Honoria has a facsimile as does the Slayer Archive Project and other organizations, but the original belongs to my family because our male Founder wrote it. Do you understand?"
"Look, I don't care who owns it. What I care about, check that, what we care about is the contents," Xander snapped. "We are not idiots. Did it ever occur to you that because the damn thing comes from only five years in our future that maybe, crazy thought I know, just maybe we'll be able to crack why your explanation isn't giving us enough information to find that damn arrow?"
Catherine cowered under the verbal assault and swallowed hard. "I know. Believe me I know. But see, the thing is…there might be…oh futch…I'm trying to put this nicely. There might be some information in here that you might not want to know."
Xander backed up a step while Faith watched through amused eyes. The quiet confession had stopped Xander's self-righteous rant cold.
"See, the thing is…" Catherine let out a hard breath and closed her eyes. "You wrote it. The journal's yours."
Nothing registered on Xander's face.
Catherine hunched and waited.
Faith held her breath while her mind raced a circling track of holy fuck. Then the rest of Catherine's statement sunk in. Founder. She was ready to bet the thirty bucks she just collected from Willow that Founder equaled ancestor and just how whacked is that. She suspected something like this was up, but to actually hear it? Whole different thing.
Somewhere in Faith's mental holy fuck parade, Xander's whispered voice wound through her hearing.
"Who the hell are you?"
How hilarious is that? Xander sounded like a terrified child as if the concept of being a father was the single worst thing he could think of happening to him. Maybe not so hilarious, Faith mentally amended. More like heartbreaking 'cause he's got the Joyce instincts down pat.
"What is your last name?" Xander's voice got stronger, a slight edge of anger creeping in.
Catherine squirmed under the glare, but came clean. "My last name's a little bit of a problem."
"How do you mean?" And damn, even though he heard her the first time, Faith could see Xander was going to make her spell it out in thirty-foot high letters.
Like it was going to change anything.
"Do you want to know my last name?" she asked in a way that sounded vaguely like a threat.
"No. But you are going to tell me." Xander looked like he was preparing for a blow. "Because if I'm going in there with a plan, I need all the information. Spelled out. Using very small words."
Catherine nodded. She'd come this far. She stepped up so that her nose was almost touching Xander's chin. Bully for Xander, Faith thought. He's not letting her intimidate him.
Catherine cast a furtive glance around, prompting Faith to zip out of sight. When the Slayer thought it was safe, she poked her head around the corner, cigarette burning forgotten in her hand, and watched Catherine in mid-whisper. The Watcher Honoria watched as Xander backed up a few steps until he landed against the building's brickwork, shock playing across his features while the information sunk in.
At some point, rational thought made a return appearance and he sputtered. "You?"
"Unh-hunh."
"And…" he waved vaguely at himself.
"Which we've already established earlier in this conversation."
"And Faith?"
Catherine's yell of "Shhhh, not so loud," was enough to cover Faith's own yelp of surprise.
Xander blinked. "Hunh," was pretty much all he had to say.
"Hunh" my ass, Faith thought furiously. This fucking news just rates as a "hunh" like I'm just some answer to a fucking trivia question? This is my goddamn life being messed with here.
"Evolutionarily speaking, this is a good thing," Catherine said dryly.
"Reputationally speaking, you might want to take the Harris part of your name, drag it out into the backyard, and shoot it. Although the Lanoire part sounds pretty," Xander said with stunned absent-mindedness. "Shoulda really dumped the Harris part. Breaks up the prettiness of Catherine Anastasia followed by the mess of a hyphenated name that involves Harris."
Faith felt some heat on her fingers, looked down, stifled a swear, and dropped the burning butt on the ground. Xander's cracking lame-o jokes because he can't fucking deal. Right there with ya. Not dealing either, Faith silently agreed.
Strange that he thought his name was the reputation-killer. She was the one who was the murderer and spent time in the clink.
"So?" Catherine prompted, worry etched on her features.
"We say nothing. About you. Me. And god knows I don't want a peep about Faith." Xander looked around the yard like he was trapped. "Just say the journal's mine and leave it at that."
"Which means that they're going to know I'm your direct descendant," Catherine pointed out.
"What?"
"Charlie told Giles that the journal," here Catherine gave it a gentle, reverent tap, "was from the Watcher who was one of my family's Founders."
"Crap."
"And if I let you read it, they're going to want to read it with you, which means they'll recognize your handwriting," Catherine added.
"Double crap."
"Which is why I had to tell you about me because you were going to find out anyway. From Giles. Which would've been probably worse," Catherine continued.
"Triple crap."
"And finally, what's a crap?"
"We keep Faith's name out of this," Xander insisted.
"Yes…" Catherine began uncertainly. Faith could see her swallow "Harris-rah" ending.
He nodded to himself. "Probably got your wires crossed anyway. More likely our grandkids do the naked mambo that results in you because there's not a chance in hell…"
"Why do you say that?" Catherine's stance turned defensive.
Faith tensed and wondered just what Xander would say.
"I don't register with her," Xander said shortly, "and I'm not interested in going there."
"Is this because of Ahnyah?"
What? How the hell does she know about…wait…Xander was probably writing love letters to his dead ex in a journal somewhere. Then she realized what Xander said and for some bizarre reason felt a sting, partly because it was true, and partly because she knew the reason behind the statement.
"No. It's just…"
Faith held her breath.
"…she's okay and all, but she's got her own life to lead and I'm not really an in-the-picture guy. I'm the original commitmentphobe. I tend to cheat on my girlfriends. Or pledge my undying love seconds before I go running screaming into the night." Xander told the lie peppered with what Faith suspected was a little truth and a smooth shrug. "Faith's got a good thing going with Robin and he'll be there for the long haul. Me? Not so much. Wham-bam-thank-you-Xan. That's me."
Faith closed her eyes and kicked at the grass. Jesus, she didn't think she had honor to defend and here was Xander doing just that like she was some goddamn princess in a high tower. He was knifing himself to make him look less just so she could look better.
Bastard.
"But that's not true!" Catherine protested.
"Oh, but it very much is," Xander stubbornly replied.
Catherine hugged the journal to her chest, her expression screaming that she not only didn't believe it, she didn't want to believe it. "People change," she finally said. "Besides, I know what I…"
"Not this rambler. I'm telling you that you got it wrong." Xander insisted. He closed his eyes with a sigh. "Look. I gotta get back inside and think about how I'm gonna break the news to the others while keeping Faith out of it. Make sure you tell your people to keep their mouths shut and to go along." He looked up, his face registering something like heartbreak. "You okay?"
"Sure," Catherine shortly replied.
With a nod, Xander disappeared into the house.
Catherine looked like someone had just killed her dog. Christ. Faith just couldn't fucking stand it. "Pssst," she hissed.
Catherine looked around and saw Faith peeking at her from around the corner. The Watcher Honoria's 'oh shit' expression was priceless as she wildly looked between the backdoor and the Slayer.
"C'mere," Faith gestured.
Catherine slunk over to Faith's position and waited.
"Now I'm not going to give you the whole story because that's kinda Xander's story to tell. Plus, I'm not one hundred percent on the deal he had going with Anya," Faith began, "but he ain't exactly being entirely honest about being an asswipe…"
***
It took Xander almost an hour to calm down after his little tête-à-tête with Catherine. Most of it was spent pacing in his room telling himself that he really did not want to start breaking things because that was sure to bring a crowd of people wondering what the hell was wrong.
The worst thing was not the bouts of fury at the general fucked-upness that is the universe. No. The worst thing was how he felt in between said bouts.
Remember how you felt lying there bleeding on the ground because you'd been stabbed in the gut thanks to your own stupidity and Buffy practically steps over your body to go check on Spike who was unfortunately still not dusty? Remember how you felt?
Yeah. This felt just like that. Times a hundred.
So he pinged helplessly between furious denial and depressed resignation as he tried to ignore the broken glass feeling in his gut. Eventually he forced himself to sit on the bed and tried to remember all the reasons why he shouldn't trust Catherine. The problem was that if he opened the journal and saw his own handwriting, every single justification for calling Catherine a dirty, rotten, stinkin' liar was going to be systematically blown up.
Calm down. Think.
Keeping Faith far and away from this nightmare was easy: don't tell anyone. Deny all knowledge of whom Catherine claims he had an attack of hormones with. Say it's no one anyone knows, not even him, because the name doesn't ring a bell. Better yet, don't bring up the involvement of any woman at all. Simple.
Unless said journal gave something away in one of its waaaay-too-many pages.
Crap. Crap. And just because it's worth repeating, crap.
Hooooold on. When I said we keep Faith out of it, Catherine didn't blink an eye so maybe, just maybe, there's nothing in there that pegs me and…
Nope. He can't even finish the thought. Because Faith and Him? Wrong. Wrong on so many levels. As in wrong on the same levels as Buffy-and-Spike wrong complete with a history of sexual assault and an attempt on his life.
Okay, sure, she's changed. She's making an effort to do right. She's even making with the friendly, or trying to. The words 'boy toy' has not once escaped her lips in reference to himself, just Xander, Xan, or Cyclops. But still…
For anything to happen between them in the way Catherine's claiming? It would require intervention from every celluloid angel from It's a Wonderful Life, to Highway to Heaven, Touched by an Angel, Michael, and a kick-ass Denzel Washington from The Preacher's Wife to overcome this baggage. Since heaven is too busy laughing at Xander Harris, butt-monkey to the universe, he's pretty sure that's not going to happen.
He took a deep breath. Nothing for it. He'll tell Catherine to cough up the journal and give him a chance to read the damn thing in private so he can rip out any offending pages that might cause Faith-shaped problems.
And if Catherine didn't like the destruction of a major league historical document? Too. Fucking. Bad. Because if he wrote it, he's damn well got the right to set fire to the life-wrecking piece of leather-bound shit if he wants to.
***
Faith escorted a miserable Catherine to her room.
She couldn't bear to look at the woman behind her as they made their silent passage through the house. The journal was jammed into her right pocket and her hand kept reflexively touching its cold, unforgiving surface.
This was too much too absorb.
This truth Faith told her about why there could never, ever be a Harris-Lanoire line that goes right back to the original Harris and Lanoire flew right into the face of everything she knew.
She's not sure who she's more angry at: Alexander for taking the blame entirely on himself, hiding Faith's crime against his person like it didn't even matter; or Faith for taking that blame entirely on herself, destroying every assumption she ever had about these two people in the process.
She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Faith and Alexander were wrong no matter what they said. She had journals, diaries, and information from contemporary sources that spelled out everything about their relationship. Hada, Catherine Anastasia was a family name that went back to the firstborn of these very two people.
Much as she didn't know about the past, she did know this much: she was right. Her family kept a history so exacting and meticulous that her father could tell you whom his second cousin three times removed was and spell out exactly how that person was related.
This was about family and one thing the Harris-Lanoires and all the related Bloodlines had in common was this: family meant everything. Friends you decided were family meant everything. You treated family—blood and adopted—with respect and care because those people were the precious jewels in your crown.
In short, as ignorant as she had been about some facts, this one fact was fact and she had archives full of proof. Spoken words from the sources' mouths before things happened the way they happened didn't change the oceans of ink and blood spilled in the centuries since. Yet for all that, she didn't have access to one drop of that ink and had only the blood in her veins if she wanted to show them the error of their ways.
Worse, she wasn't even sure she wanted to.
How did I get to this point? How? Catherine wondered miserably as she silently mounted the stairs. And how come this story of Faith seducing and then trying to kill Alexander was never recorded anywhere?
Or rather, how come it was never stated outright?
You'd think someone less-than-friendly to the relationship might've brought it up somewhere. Robin, who expressed time and time again his strong reservations to Alexander's and Faith's involvement because he believed in the separate-but-equal missions of the Watchers and the Slayers, should've been bringing this incident up as a point to support his theories.
Assuming that Robin was as miserable a bastardo as she wanted to believe. Maybe he had his good and bad just like everyone else.
Knowing what she now knew, she wondered if she'd see this horrible secret lurking in the subtext if she started nosing around the archives on the family estate. How much did she miss in the charming hesitation, the longing 'what ifs,' the stumbling steps forward and the occasional steps back? How much did everyone in the family miss for centuries about the first four years of Alexander's and Faith's working partnership because this one event—an event that very obviously deeply affected the two of them—was completely unknown?
If this were a fictional story, she'd think it bittersweet, making assumptions about the big romance that was sure to come before the end, rooting for that satisfactory conclusion where love conquers all, content in the knowledge that the road to forgiveness is paved with a single kiss.
But this was real life, and all she could think was that the two of them needed to stay very, very far away from one another. She was fairly certain that if she were a friend to either or both, she'd be urging Alexander to get counseling for the trauma and telling Faith that she should stick with, Founders help her, Robin.
What does this say about her? She still wants to offer that advice even though she knows that this particular dance ends on a happy refrain.
Maybe. She just doesn't know any more. She may have murdered her entire family by deciding to act instead of wait.
"We're here," Faith said softly in her left ear.
Catherine stopped and looked up at the door. Maybe it was her door. Maybe not. She really didn't care.
Faith shuffled uncomfortably behind her as Catherine closed her eyes. She didn't want to turn around and she didn't want to move forward. What she wanted to do was cry and she didn't have the luxury to do even that much.
A tentative touch on her elbow with the whispered sadness of a haunted ghost: "I don't know how to make this right."
Catherine's eyes popped open and she glared at the door. "What do you want from me?"
"Tell me how I can make this right?"
Faith sounded so uncertain as she asked the question, revealing a vulnerability that Catherine didn't think even existed in her, at least based on what she knew about history, legend, and what she'd seen with her own two eyes.
The Watcher Honoria slowly turned her head and found herself looking down into sad, brown eyes. "I don't know," Catherine admitted. "All of what you said is news to me so I just don't know."
Faith stepped back, not really looking at anything, right foot nervously hooking and crossing around her left ankle. "You know that shit they say about the truth setting you free? I'm thinking someone lied to me about that."
"What do you want from me?" Catherine repeated.
Faith's eyes narrowed as she looked at the door over Catherine's left shoulder. "I hate people telling me what to do. It's my fucking life, right? I'll do what the fuck I want, how I want, when I want. See. Want. Take. Have. Me in a fucking nutshell. I got the Slayer juice, so fuck you if you don't like it."
Catherine's jaw clenched and she felt the beginning of a serious dislike for this woman. "That attitude gets you locked up," she said lowly.
A right eyebrow quirked in response. "It did," the Slayer stated.
Catherine gave her head a hard shake. In this time period, only a very select few even knew what a Slayer was so how…
"Living like that? At some point you get yourself a dire choice: crash and burn, maybe take a few hundred innocent people with you when you do; or do something before the big explosion," Faith said. "So I turned myself over to the law, let them lock me up, and took a long, hard, fucking look."
Something in Catherine's gut eased off and the empty feeling was replaced by curiosity. "What did you find?"
Faith looked at Catherine then, studying the woman's expression like she couldn't quite believe that the question was serious rather than sarcastic. She took a breath and admitted, "It all comes down to me. I could blame my fuck-ups on a lot of things, but really, it's me. That's what I got to live with every fucking day of my life and that's the big hurdle to this huge future you think is there for me. I know the truth of me and you're putting one big-ass tall order on my head. Don't know if I can do it, and I honestly don't think I can."
Catherine leaned back against the door, looking at this woman, really looking at her, desperately wishing she could borrow Alexander's eyes—well, eye—to see this through something other than 20-20 hindsight. "So that's it? You're going to give up?" she asked.
"No." Faith's voice sounded unsure, distant, like she couldn't quite believe she was having this conversation.
"Then what?"
"Like I said, always hated to be told what to do. Fucking hated it. 'Cept I think I need advice. How do I make this right?"
"Maybe you shouldn't."
Faith looked at Catherine like she may have sprouted an extra head, turned green, and began giving her directions to Subbins on Alpha Tau, home of the world's largest lyranic patty. "You've got to be kidding me. Right?" the Slayer asked with more than a little disbelief.
"The truth is always better, no matter how much people don't want to hear it," Catherine said, even as her heart and mind roundly sent up a chorus of disagreement. "Trust me, I'm not happy about this, but I'll live. See?" She gave a mock bow. "Still standing."
Faith cringed. "Shit. I didn't even think…fuck, fuck, fuck…what I meant was," she took a breath, "is there anything in your history books in the bad ol' future that mentions how I managed to make it right with Xander? Because where I'm standing right now? It's just not possible."
Catherine stood stunned. "Let me see if I get this straight: you haven't even addressed this with Alexander yet? How many standard years ago did you say this happened again?"
"Now you see the problem." Faith closed her eyes and shook her head; looking so lost and defeated that Catherine wondered if issue weighed even more heavily on the perpetrator than on the victim.
On an instinct she couldn't name, Catherine stepped forward, gathered the girl into a tight hug, and, despite the telltale stiffening of Faith's body at the unexpected contact, gave her a kiss on the forehead. She loosened her hold, but didn't let go.
Faith shifted back and looked up into Catherine's face. Her expression a mess of confusions, but she didn't quite break free, as if she were loath to lose this simple human contact. She only asked one thing: "Why?"
Catherine found herself toying with a strand of the young woman's hair feeling strangely better—not great, not good, but better and gave Faith the only answer she could. "Because you need it and because I can."
TBC…