Dark Times

Part Seven

Disclaimer: see previous part.

Posted: November 30, 2004

Reader Responses: Well, only one review this time. Thanks to Charmed-angel4 for reviewing.

Well, I don't think I answered reviews for last time, so: Thanks to Queen Boadicea for reviewing. I thought that might be a good idea, lol. And I do have that story that we were talking about, I have yet found the time to type it up, without my Mom around, but I'll get it to you eventually, so you can read it and tell me how much it sucks, ok?

After dinner that night, she convinced Connor to help her in the practice room in the basement.

"I don't have an apt for it like you," she told him as they were entering the room, "if I'm to be good at this, then I need extra practice." Both dressed in sweats and tank tops, they both set their water bottles down by the mirrors at one end, and began to stretch.

"Hit me," she ordered once they were sufficiently warmed up.

"Jena…I don't…"

"You didn't seem to have a problem hitting the girls in class."

"They're slayers, Jena! You saw the way Buffy and faith went at it. I was barely hanging on!"

"Connor, please! This prophecy thing is important. How is it going to happen if I can't even defend myself?" he sighed, and she knew she had him. He disheartenedly threw a hook punch at her. She practiced one of the self-defense moves they had practiced in class, a step in double chop to the bicep, then chop to the neck. Over and over again she made his punch, until she felt she had perfected the move.

He begged injury, rubbing both his biceps one after the other, and she was tired, so she let him off, following him back up to the apartment.

In the weeks following, she became obsessed. She got up at five each morning to work out in the basement, weight lifting, then cardio. She'd grab a light breakfast, generally toast or a muffin, before jogging off to class.

She could be found in the library during lunch, telling anyone who asked that she'd grab something later. More classes followed her studying, then a tiny supper, before extra practice in the basement. Then she would collapse into bed, only to start all over again in eight hours.

Her efforts were paying off, though. She kept up better in her classes, she wasn't picked upon as much, and people were complimenting her on her muscle tone and weight loss.

So she continued. What was five son became 4:30, then four, and a light breakfast became a skipped meal. What had been two hours in the gym became four, five, six hours. She was stronger than she had ever been, and she looked awesome.

About a month after her diet and exercise plan had taken a turn for the worst, Connor caught her leaning against the wall, breathing heavier than normal after going up two flights of stairs. Her clothes hung loose on her frame, and he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her eat something. What had looked awesome now looked sickly. In class she seemed lethargic at first glance, but she hid it behind a mask of energy when she thought someone was looking.

He expressed his fears to Angel when he called the next day, but hot seeing his daughter during this destructive phase, Angel told him he was probably over reacting. Jena had seemed fine, even happy, when he had talked to her just that morning.

It wasn't until she collapsed during class were his worst fears confirmed.

She woke in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, with familiar faces, uncharacteristically grave, surrounding her.

"What happened?" Only Connor, Buffy, Faith and Angel heard her rasp.

"Oh, thank God." Buffy was beside her bed in an instant, foregoing her pacing.

"You fainted in class," Connor told her, glaring out the window.

"Connor, what's wrong?" she picked up on his hostility.

"How could you do that to yourself? You're dying! You're killing yourself by not eating! God, Jen, why?"

"Hey, hey, no attacking. I statements, please."

"Fuck that! Jena's killing herself, and you care about 'I statements'?"

"Connor!" Buffy cried, shocked, as Angel growled his name.

"He's right," the emaciated girl said from the bed, "I'm sorry," she was scared, "I never meant it to go this far, but everyone said I looked so good, and I was getting stronger, and I was keeping up1 no one was picking on me, and I finally fit in."

"If it was that bad, you should have come to me."

"I told Angel…but he said it was normal for them to pick on me."

Buffy shot Angel a scathing look.

"I thought it was just regular teen behavior," he protested.

"I told you I was worried about her." Connor muttered.

"What? You told him, but not me?" Buffy turned to him. Connor hung his head. "And you, you knew?" she turned on Angel.

"I didn't think anything of it-"

"Because you haven't been a teenager in over 200 years! You aren't around teens 24/7. You don't remember what it's like to be a teenager! You don't know the pressure put upon teens to look right, act right, wear the right clothes, to just fit in!"

"If you'd allow me to see them, then maybe I would," he growled under his breath.

"I'm not forbidding you to see them! Connor's not even mine!" she exploded, "They're eighteen! Eighteen years without either of us! They're their own person!"

"You took them halfway around the world, knowing I wouldn't follow, knowing I couldn't follow. You're always so…so uptight, and arrogant-"

"Arrogant! Me? I can't believe you! You come into my city, and attack me and my boyfriend, and I'm the arrogant one?!"

"That was sixteen years ago. God, stop living in the past, Buffy! High school's over. We're over." They both seemed shocked by his last statement, almost like he didn't mean it.

She recoiled like she'd been slapped, before hiding her pain behind a mask of fury. "Don't you think I know that? Who's the one moving on? Who has a real life? Who's not moping around the same building day after day, brooding about what used to be, and what might have been?"

"God, get over yourself! The world doesn't revolve around you!"

"Ugh!" she growled. She turned on her high-heeled boots and stormed out.

Angel sighed, collapsing into a nearby chair, as the others stood by awkwardly.

"When can I go home?" she asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"They want to put you into therapy. A rehabilitation clinic," he said softly, wearily.

"Please, don't tell my parents."

He looked up at her, and the weary gaze from and burned her, and she felt so careless. After over a month of knowing, after a month of living under her real mother's roof, she still considered her unrelated parents feelings first.

He sighed, not giving her a chance to apologize, "I'd better go." He looked out the window, "We all should. Get some rest." He patted her blanketed knee, before leaving. Faith, Xander, Willow, and Dawn all said their goodbyes and followed.

"Connor…don't go. I'm sorry."

He sat beside her on the bed, "It's my fault. I suspected, and I didn't say anything about it."

"No, it's all my fault. I-some part of me knew…."

"So we're both to blame. Truce?"

She smiled, nodding. She scooted over, and he moved up beside her "Being an only child, I never realized what I was missing until I met you." She told him quietly.

"Being one of many, I didn't know how awesome and unannoying sisters could be until I met you."

"I love you, Connor." She set her head on his shoulder.

"Siblings don't say that to each other."

"Then what do I say?"

"I hate you. Brat."

"Well, I hate you too," she said with a smile.

"Message received loud and clear. Night, sis."

She was already snoring gently.