A/N: Hi. Yeah, that's all …
Thanks you, D.K., katie, paige, funkydevil206, kim, Moonjava, and General Mac for the comments!
Disclaimer: Why, yes, I do own BtVS. That's why I'm broke and the show's canceled … All belongs to Joss and ME, people. Chapter titles are courtesy of Evanescence lyrics.
Rating: PG-13. Swearing, angst, violence, previously minor child abuse. You have been warned …
Pairings: B/S eventually. W/T Others uncertain
Distribution: Yeah, sure, take it. Tell me first, though.
Reviews: DEFINITELY! Reviewers are the best!
Previously: Buffy returns to Sunnydale for her father's funeral, and has gotten in touch with some old friends in the meantime …
She really couldn't decide what was more disturbing: the fact that Anya was dead (no pun intended) right about the mourners, or the fact that a funeral had never been less funeral-like.
Unexpectedly, and yet not so much when you think about it, the whole gang had agreed to accompany her to her father's interment. Somehow, Willow, Tara, and Spike had even gotten Dawn to go with minimal fuss – although she still generally ignored her older sister.
Now, at the funeral, Tara and Willow exchanged occasional whispers, properly subdue and – of course – not intentionally rude, but entirely too immersed in each other to notice much else.
Spike didn't even try to pay attention – his disdain for the deceased-in-question went unhidden. Instead, he seemed to be making random odd comments that caused Dawn to erupt into spontaneous giggles that she attempted – half-heartedly and unsuccessfully – to smother.
Xander was bored.
Everyone else looked like they were trying their hardest to be sad, but it was a difficult task when they had very few actual encounters with Hank Summers and there were hardly any kind words to be said about him.
Buffy sighed, running a hand through her hair as the service ended, and the small group of mourners disbanded.
oOoOo
The day had started early, with everyone scrambling to get ready on such short notice, and the funeral procession to the nearby cemetery was uneventful.
Buffy had been adamant about not burying Hank next to her mother. She couldn't taint the memory of the woman who had actually loved her and Dawn by placing her next to a man that had eventually come to be hated and feared by all the Summers women.
A wake wasn't really even under consideration.
Earlier, when Buffy arrived at the plot Anya had chosen for Hank – far from Joyce's burial place – she saw that the priest had already arrived, and there was a group there, dressed in black, waiting for the service to begin.
The problem was that she really didn't recognize of these people.
"We are so sorry, dear, to hear of your loss." A plump, middle-aged woman approached Buffy, startling her with her words.
"Erm … er, thank you, Ms. …" Buffy really had no idea what to say to her.
The woman beamed. "Mrs. Wilcox, dear. If there's anything I can do for you, you tell me. Alright?"
Buffy nodded slowly. As Mrs. Wilcox walked away, she turned to see Spike, smirking at the disturbed look on her face.
"That bird's involved in almos' every charity event, an' sometimes, she shows up a' funerals or celebrations jus' to 'show support.' I suppose she means well, but she can be a nosy ol' biddy."
Bufy gave a surprised laugh at Spike's description, earning disapproving glances from a few of Mrs. Wilcox's fellow mourners just as Willow joined them.
"Wow, do we know those people? It's like old Elizabethan England when they hired actors to make funeral processions more dramatic," the redhead mused outloud.
Buffy and Spike stared at her oddly.
"What? They did!" Willow protested.
Then, the three fell quiet as the minister got ready to begin the service …
oOoOo
Now, as people began to filter away, Buffy's heard a sorely missed and extremely familiar voice behind her.
"Buffy?"
"Giles!" She turned around to see the man who had been her true father figure through her childhood years.
Giles, once he saw that it was she, promptly took off his glasses and cleaned them. Then he launched into a parent-mode tirade.
"Buffy, where on Earth have you been! How could you have been so irresponsible --"
"I was not un-responsible! I was perfectly with the responsibility-having!"
"But --"
"No, listen! I thought I could get a job and work and …"
As the fight progressed, Buffy had become more agitated, and she began pacing. She continued her rant, not noticing when Giles stopped arguing, and just watched fondly as his harangue was turned around on him.
Finally when Buffy paused to take a breath, he cut in quietly, "I was worried."
Buffy's eyes widened slightly as she unexpectedly halted to turn to face the man. Then, without warning, she laughed and launched herself into his arms.
Giles stood still for a shocked moment, then hugged her back. With a final squeeze, Buffy let him go. "It's nice to see you haven't lost the skill for lecturing," she teased.
"I do not 'lecture,' I merely …" Giles gave an indignant huff and changed tact when he saw the girl's grin, "Well, you can blame William for that. The boy never grows up."
As the two began leaving the cemetery, Buffy continued smiling, but she ducked her head when she replayed their argument in her head.
"I'm sorry for making you worry," she said in a quiet voice. "I just, I dunno," she ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes, "I thought I could find a way to support Dawnie and me in L.A., I guess …"
Giles sighed. "I understand, Buffy, that you were doing what you thought was right. But you knew you could have always come to me for help."
"I know. It's just … something I had to do for myself."
Whether Buffy knew or not, Giles really did understand. The prideful streak in his surrogate daughter was unforgettable. He decided to change the subject, "So … how have you been?"
"I'm good," Buffy answered. "How 'bout you?"
Giles smiled wryly. "Still alive and holding on, I suppose."
"So … how is Los Angeles?"
"Good. I'm doing OK, acting. Sorta semi-famous now, but … yeah …"
Giles nodded, and they lapsed into a contemplative silence before Buffy remembered her question.
"Oh! I meant to ask: Willow said the other day that you were Dawn's legal guardian. How did she end up living in our old house and all?"
"Well, after … everything … we thought it would be best not to make Dawn move. I'll admit, I was surprised when I learned that your mother made me your guardian, but I suppose it was logical, seeing as you had no relatives. But, I digress," Giles smiled, catching Buffy's wandering attention, and continued back on track.
"We saw that the mortgage for the house had been paid, and it was now technically Dawn's property. So William and I lived there with her for the next two years, but I kept my flat. Then, Willow moved in once she started college and now Tara – and my son, when he bothers to come home – live there also.
"Willow had already proven to be a better care-taker for Dawn than I could be," Giles continued, already seeing Buffy's next question, "and since we are no longer a concern of Social Services and I live nearby, I believe she does not need my constant care."
"Willow goes to UC Sunnydale and doesn't have to work?" Buffy asked curiously.
"Yes. And aside from the fact that she could have earned a scholarship from any university in the nation," there was obvious pride in Giles' voice since Willow was also like a daughter to him, "her parents had apparently struck rich with one of their business enterprises, so she now has a trust fund."
"She decided to stay for Dawn, didn't she?" the blonde asked in a depressed manner, knowing that her best friend would never tell her something like this, just to spare her feelings.
Giles caught her guilt. "That may have been part of the reason, but Willow decided on her own that her life was her in Sunnydale. She had also met Tara at the art gallery earlier that year, so it seemed best to her to stay."
Suddenly, Buffy realized that their conversation had taken them to the gate of the cemetery, and her friends were waiting impatiently for her nearby.
"Hurry up, da'," Spike yelled out impatiently, "or are you gettin' slow in your old age?"
Giles rolled his eyes and Buffy giggled. "Go, go," Giles waved Buffy away. "By all means, leave the decrepit old man all alone."
Buffy laughed again. "I'll see you later, Giles."
The corner of Giles' mouth lifted upwards. "Yes, later, Buffy."
Once she reached her friends, she turned back to see Giles get into a little red convertible. "Whoa. When'd Giles get a car like that?"
Willow and Dawn sniggered at the memory, and Spike explained, "Da's old car died plus mid-life crisis. Don' ask."
oOoOo
Buffy wandered onto the back porch after helping Willow and Tara clean up in the aftermath of a somewhat awkward 'family' dinner. She was assaulted with memories of all the things she used to do out here when she was younger.
"You alright, luv?"
Bufy jumped, whirling around. "Gosh, Spike, creepy much?"
Spike smirked and took another drag of the cigarette he was puffing on. He walked over to join her leaning against the railing. "What can I say, pet, 've always been bad."
"No, you haven't. There was this time when you were little --"
"Go away," Spike cut her off irritably. "You're ruining the image 'm trying to keep."
"Buffy snickered. "Yeah, well, it doesn't work half as well when the person you're talking to knows all your embarrassing childhood stories."
"Don' have embarrassing stories!" He protested.
"Wanna bet on that?"
Seeing the evil look in her eyes, he quickly declined and changed the subject. "So, what brings you out here?"
Buffy frowned slightly. "Nothing, really. Why?"
"This was always your worry place," Spike explained.
"Yeah," Buffy sighed. "I remember."
"Like that time when you grew a huge pimple on your nose the day before a big summer party. You came out here, an' then you got mad when Dawn followed you an' poked an' popped it for ya," Spike reminisced.
"Zit popping is gross!" Buffy protested. "Besides, it wasn't any worse then that summer when you decided that the best way to impress girls was to write them poetry. You sat out here for hours wring bad lines. It was kinda cute, in a geeky way," she decided.
Spike growled. "'M not cute. Or geeky. Take tha' back."
"Nuh-uh." She emphasized this with a shake of her head.
"I'll tickle you," he threatened.
"Not ticklish."
"Really? That's not what I remember …" Without warning, he lunged forward and attacked her sides, tickling without mercy.
This caused Buffy to fall to the ground, gasping for breath and laughing uncontrollably. After several minutes, she gave in, "OK, OK, stop! Spike! You win!"
Suddenly he stopped, and the two became acutely aware of how close they were to each other.
Spike could feel Buffy's warm breath fan out against his cheek as she lay trapped beneath him.
They both thought simultaneously, If I just lean in a little closer …
Then, the back door burst open with a loud bang, causing the two to spring apart.
Buffy turned, ready to snap at the impatient interrupter, but all thoughts of anger dissipated when she saw a haggard and disheveled Anya.
This worry was augmented when her friend didn't even make an inappropriately blunt statement about Spike, who had risen to stand right next to her.
"Ahn?" Buffy's brow knitted in confusion. "What's wrong? Why're you here? Are you OK?"
Anya cut her off. "I'm fine, Buffy, but you're not. I think, you might have a stalker …"
Whatever could possibly happen next? ... o.O
le faye