From : Chihuahua
Date : 20th June 2003
Disclaimer : I don't own any of the TRA:JQ characters and neither do I own any of the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No money is made out of this fic. Don't sue me as I'm not sure I can afford Ally McBeal.
Category : A, JJ-HR, DBN-HR, F, E, JQ/Buffy Crossover
Rating : Parental guidance is advised.
Author's note : This takes place after Season 2 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This is my account on what happens and is based fully on my own creativity.
Archiver's Permission: Granted to those who want it. Just inform me on where it can be found.
CHAPTER 10: HOMECOMING
Sunlight filtered through the dirty curtains, sending slanting beams in multiple directions. The sheets shifted, thrown aside to reveal a much bruised torso. Jonny stirred, his eyes gently focusing. He felt at peace, a huge burden lifted off his shoulders. He stretched; the pain in his muscles had now receded to a dull ache.
"Buffy?" he called softly, but there was no reply. He got off the bed, instantly aware of his nakedness. "Buffy, you here?"
He slipped on his jeans and ventured to the bathroom. Nobody was there. He was alone. A scrap of paper on the other side of the bed caught his attention. He picked it up and read it through quickly. She was gone. Going home.
Jonny cleaned up, and packed his things. It was finally time. It had been so long since he had thought of it; he had no idea how to go about it. How to act, how to react. It was all a huge blur to him. Where was home anyway? His house was in Maine, but he wondered if that made it home. No, he decided. It was more of a prison. Last night… last night had been freedom beyond imagination. Liberation.
***
He looked into her eyes, so focused. He blinked once, winced slightly when the water stung his cuts. He looked at the cloth she was using, bloody and stained. Her strong yet delicate hands wrung out the cloth once, twice, before continuing the cleaning. He jerked away once, pain ricocheting through him when the water ran into a deeper cut.
"Sorry," she mumbled, stepping back for a moment.
"Why us?" he asked, clasping her hands. "Ya know, alone."
She shook her head. "I don't know." She began to walk away.
"Buffy, stay… please," he pled.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why?"
"Because of you."
"What about me? What's wrong with me?"
"You're emotional right now. Shattered even."
"So?"
"God damn it! You're fragile right now!" She cried, storming out of the bathroom. She heard a faint rustle as he struggled to get to his feet. Then, his soft footsteps as the padded up behind her. "No, Jonny. Just no…"
He turned her around gently, slowly forcing her against her will. His crystal blue irises seemed to open up for the first time, engulfing her in their depth and impossible clarity.
"It isn't right."
He sighed, letting her go. "Don't tell me it isn't right! I know it isn't right! Every damn thing that has happened isn't right! How else can I explain what I'm feeling right now? The guilt I feel for feeling this way? It's all so screwed up!" Jonny banged his fist against the wall and collapsed to the floor, setting his face in his palms. His body shook from each convulsing sob.
"I didn't mean you," she said quietly. She looked at him, meeting his eyes as he looked up at her through tear-glazed eyes. "It wasn't about you. It was about me."
He shook his head, not understanding.
"I can't do this. I'd betray…"
"We would betray them," he ended. His fingers traced her fang marks on his neck. "But would we be betraying ourselves too?"
She didn't answer. She moved in, closed the gap and kissed him. Straddling him, she kissed him tenderly. "I hate myself…" she breathed.
"I hate myself…" he echoed, in between kisses.
***
SUNNYDALE
Giles stirred from his disturbed sleep, removing himself from his couch where he had dozed off the night before. His body protested at his every movement, the throbbing pain in his head had not been cured by the half bottle of single-malt scotch he had consumed the night before.
The phone rang again, the annoying trill forcing a wedge between his cranium and spine.
"Giles…" he managed to slur. He listened absently for a few seconds before jerking awake, his sudden awareness causing him to topple off the couch, receiver still gripped firmly in hand.
"She's back?" he rasped.
"What do you mean she's back?" Xander grunted, rolling off his bed. Frankly, he was pissed at being woken up before noon on a Saturday morning.
"I mean, she just got home," Willow said patiently, knowing well enough than to rush Xander when he was still in his morning stupor. She twisted the cord of her phone with her index finger, picturing Xander as he paced up and down the room in his ratty T-shirt and Ninja Turtles boxers. The ones she had given him a few years back. Sure they had gotten a little short, but he had not thrown them out yet.
"When?"
"This morning. Around six."
"Great," he muttered, "she missed the grand shebang we had last night." He tested his elbow and winced a little. He knew he should be a little more happy than testy, but he just didn't feel up to it. Not yet.
"You don't sound too happy, Xand…" Willow said, prodding cautiously. She knew she was dealing with new ground here.
"Forgive me for not throwing confetti, but when your friend just ups and leaves you for a few weeks without even telling you where she's gone, that's cause enough for less-than-enthusiastic behavior.!" Xander snapped, and immediately felt bad. "Sorry, Will, still a little out of it, ya know. Sorry."
"It's okay. I get it." Willow said goodbye and replaced the receiver. Buffy was back… everything would be fine again.
Buffy looked at her room, taking in the familiarity. Everything the way she had left them, nothing moved at all. Mr. Gordo still stood in a corner on her bed, the covers pulled up. Like no one had slept there at all.
She paced to her chest and lifted the lid. She set aside the false bottom that hid her mini collection of stakes, holy water and even a small crossbow with a bag of bolts. Nothing seemed to have been touched too.
"I found that, you know," her mother's voice came, shaking her. She turned around and saw her mom leaning against the doorframe, her golden curls slightly flattened from uneasy sleep.
Buffy smiled weakly. "I guess you already know enough… but…"
"I'm sorry, honey. I never realized…"
Buffy got up, tears glistening in her eyes. She pounced on her mother, hugging her tightly for the first time since she go back, making up for ignoring her mother's earlier embrace when she had opened the door.
"Mom… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I hit you… so sorry I ran. I just…"
"Shh… it's okay, honey. Mr. Giles explained it all. I know about your duty, your destiny…"
"I'm so sorry…"
"You've nothing to be sorry about. It wasn't your fault… it's not your fault that you're the Chosen One."
Buffy choked out a laugh as she buried her face in her mother's chest.
Joyce Summers pushed her daughter back a bit, and took a hard look at her. "You're starved!" she exclaimed. "Were you on a diet?"
Buffy laughed, her tears drying up. "No… I wasn't."
"Were you okay, then? Did anything happen?"
"Mom, I'm the Slayer. I can handle myself." She smiled. "Can we talk over breakfast? I'm starved!"
Joyce nodded and hurried off. Buffy could hear the pans clanking and the smell of warm waffles soon after.
It was good to be home. She had Jonny to thank for that.
***
Jonny looked out at the rolling desert land, his thoughts mulling over events as he stared blankly out of the window. The noon sun was high in the sky, casting short shadows and baking the earth outside. He had refused a flight home, courtesy of Race… frankly, he needed some time alone before he could face any of them. Everything was a mess in his head, nothing made complete sense if it even came close to making any.
The snoring of several passengers around him became his rhythm, his tempo as he ran through his thoughts. Underneath his T-shirt, his cuts and bruises still showed, faded but visible. When he had snagged his shirt on a seat as he sat down, an old woman had taken one look at the injuries and had hurried to the back of the bus.
Jonny, you must stop Prumiva.
How?
Use the Blade of Aefriol.
What is that?
I don't know. But whatever it is, she's afraid of it. She's afraid of you.
What is she going to do?
End the world, somehow. Oh…
What? What is it?
I can feel it, Jon. I'm free.
I love you.
I love you too. Always. No matter what anyone says… even myself.
He went over that bit again and again, trying to make some sense of what Jessie had told him. She had said something about the Blade of Aefriol, whatever that was. Sounded like some kind of weapon, from the way she said it. Why else would Prumiva be afraid of it? Or even more perplexing, why would an age-old vampire be afraid of him?
The bus sped on, the light fading outside as it crossed borders and continued to away from California. He was going home, eventually. The long way back would be a nice break, a time to reorganize his life and thoughts.
The bus sped on into the night, and he stared out of the window into the darkness.
The airport crowd was thinning, considering the hour. It was past two in the morning, and he had yet to meet Race. Knowing Maine weather, he probably got delayed during the takeoff. Jonny sipped his black coffee from the Styrofoam cup, warming his fingers on the warm white material.
It had taken him a long time, but he was finally in Florida. He had arrived the night before, and he had taken a few hours to himself to check out the old neighborhoods and all that he had been used to before they had moved to Maine.
"Jonny!" He looked up, scanning the near empty airport for the source. He spotted Race running over, his father and Hadji just a little behind. Taking one last sip, he dumped the cup into the dustbin next to him and got up, slinging his bag across his shoulders.
"Jonny!" He felt his father's arms embrace him, felt the power of that single hug alone. Tears came to his eyes as he pulled the red-haired man closer, hugging him for the first time in a long time.
Benton pulled away and made room for Race and Hadji.
"Where have you been, kiddo?" Race asked, his eyes narrowing in concern.
"West. California."
"Why?"
"Does it really matter, Race? He's back isn't he?" Hadji interjected, easing himself in between the both of them. They could do without any painful revelations now.
Race shrugged. "Fine." He smiled. "Let's go home."
It had been over a week since Jonny had returned to the Quest Compound. His father, Race and Hadji had tried as much as possible to get him to talk without invading his privacy. Sometimes he had indulged them, letting them on certain details regarding his departure. He had kept out his showdown with Jessie until Race finally pulled him aside and asked him bluntly. The pain and relief on his bodyguard's face lifted a huge burden from him. He felt their bond, stronger than ever again.
Jonny turned the doorknob, feeling the cold metal turn under his hand. He pushed it open gently and stepped into the cool darkness.
Jessie's room.
The neatly kept room reflected her immaculate nature. Even the posters of ancient cultures and illustrations of archeological masterpieces were carefully mounted on the walls. He stepped towards he desk and switched on her table lamp. The warm light washed over the flat surface. He saw her neatly arranged pictures, photographs of family and friends.
A picture of a smiling Estella and beaming Race was framed in a heavily varnished red frame. Another of his father, Hadji, Race, Jessie and himself was placed in an ornate brass frame with ivy detailings. Bandit sat in between her and him, bridging the two. But the one that stood out the most was a pure white bone frame that had carved dragonflies and lilies on it. It was a picture taken in Cancun. He stood next to her, his bright green shirt unbuttoned partially and her chocolate sundae had dripped down his navel as they kissed. Hadji had somehow managed to zoom in enough that it seemed almost like a portrait of just the two.
Jonny looked at his smiling face, tanned from the hot sun. Her red hair spilled out from under her visor. Alone, taped on a side panel of her desk was a picture of just him. She had taken it without his knowledge when he had trudged downstairs one morning. His hair was tousled from sleep and the drawstring pants had fallen to just at his hipbones. Pillow creases were visible on his face. He had begged her to change the photo, but she had refused each time, saying that if she could love him at his worst, she would always be reminded of his best.
Jonny turned off the light and slumped onto her bed and curled up on it. The bed that they had shared so many memories on.
He awoke when he felt a soft caressing at his hair. He knew from her touch that it was Estella. She curled up next to him, and together, they held each other, their silence, an indication of their knowledge.
To be continued…
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