Chapter 8_51
The Comeback
AN: Next bit. Just to clear up a few things: This plays after Christmas in Season 3, so after Revelations, Lovers Walk, Band Candy, The Wish and Amends
His face was expressionless. But inside there was a storm of emotions. There stood the woman he had feared he'd never see again in his lifetime. She looked radiant. The few loose brown curls were reflecting the light coming from his apartment, her eyes were wide open, her face was emanating an almost unearthly calm, tranquility that he had rarely witnessed on her before. And for a moment it almost felt like she had never been away, as if this was just another of their dates and she stopped by his place to pick him up and they'd go to the theatre once he'd grab his coat.
He could also smell her, not just her perfume, but her own, familiar scent that was triggering so many memories and crawling his body downwards he felt excitement seizing him.
She greeted him in the voice he almost hadn't hoped to hear again – the last time he did it wasn't even coming from her, it was a talking piece of paper she had left behind to explain how she simply had to go. Remembering that howler now anger began rising in him.
Helen had been preparing for this call for hours. She had taken a plane from London to L.A. instead of apparating, just to have some time to think. She had been through so many difficult times, experienced dozens of unpleasant, horrifying situations in her life, but she couldn't think of any that had made her this scared before. She couldn't really prepare herself. She had absolutely no idea how he would react when she would turn up at his doorstep, what he would say. She had gone through several scenarios in her head, some possible, some very improbable. The scared part of her just wished he would forgive her, they'd rejoice at being together again by clinking glasses of wine and then they would end up making love for the rest of the night, even though she knew she didn't deserve to get out of it so easily. She was afraid whether he would really understand what now didn't make much sense to herself anymore. When she had left about six months ago, it all had been so clear, the leaving had seemed to be the only right way, only later she came to understand how absurd it was. Would she even be able to explain it to him then?
Now as she saw him in the door, her knees trembled and she felt pain in her chest for having left him, for having lost so much precious time. He didn't have his glasses on, the book in his left hand was telling her that he had been reading. He wore a day's beard that was making him look irresistibly sexy to her, adding to the more casual look was also the fact that he wasn't wearing any tie and the top two buttons on his blue shirt were open. She was aching for some touch, to stroke his face or grasp his hand, anything that would close or erase the distance, not only the physical one that was between them right now, also – symbolically – then one of those six months they had been apart.
"Are you expecting me to say something?" He asked at last, the hardness of his unusually deep voice surprised her.
He had pondered a lot about where she'd gone, why she'd left or whether he could have prevented it and why he hadn't seen it coming, but never once did he think about what he would do when she'd actually come back. And he quite lacked the words right now, feeling too many things at the same time. Yet anger seemed to be the one to overrule anything else soon enough. He had found back into his element over the holidays, he almost hadn't expected to. He managed to drown himself in his readings, he was following a few new leads on an old prophecy he had stumbled upon couple of weeks back. Seeing her now – the fact that she obviously hasn't been miserable, but looked more beautiful than ever was both enthralling and infuriating.
"No," she exhaled. "I-ah... I don't... expect... anything," she said, the calm was crumbling. "Least of all that you would forgive me," she lied bravely.
"Good," he replied curtly and Helen felt as if she was being slowly plunged into an icy lake. The frosty sound of that one word stung.
She swallowed dry and took a deep breath. "Except perhaps that you listen, hear me out and... give me a moment to explain..."
He raised his brows expectantly. He was keeping his calm, but inside he was churning.
She opened her mouth, then laughed nervously. She had practiced this part so often, tried to prepare the exact way how to tell it, with not a single superfluous word, short and to the point, yet now under his piercing look it all seemed to have vanished.
"I'm sorry," she smiled sheepishly, "I-ah... it's so hard..." She took another breath and tried again: "It's not easy... to explain what... happened..."
"Is it?" He asked poignantly tilting his head a little, and stuck out his chin defiantly. "Then shall I perhaps?" Before she could say another word, he continued: "I guess it must have been so awfully hard to leave like a coward, without a single word – oh, I'm sorry, I forgot you did leave a note, didn't you?" His voice was slightly rising and taking an unpleasant, sarcastic and also almost menacing undertone. "So which part of it, specifically, was hard? Was it the sneaking out of this apartment in the middle of the night?! Or was it the putting the poison into my glass to drug me so I wouldn't wake up?! Just how hard was it, exactly, leaving me in all that-?!", he stopped abruptly there, his eyes seemed to be glistening, he could still recall only too well that awful time feeling like he had been stripped of everything, not knowing what to do with himself. Buffy had been gone, but while Helen had still been there it was all bearable somehow, until she had left too.
For a moment they both just stared at each other. She was daunted and at a complete loss for anything to say out of the sheer fear and panic that she'd make things even worse.
"What can I...?" She asked at last in a half whisper.
"You can get out of my sight," he said quietly, the rage in his tone though was hard to miss.
After a short moment she dropped her look, slowly, hesitantly turned around, and walked away.
Giles listened as her footsteps echoed on the pavement when she descended the staircase leading to the street until he couldn't hear them anymore. He stood in his doorway for a while, motionless, feeling suddenly sick, quite unable to process all that just happened. When he finally closed the door and walked back to his desk, he was determined to push out all thoughts of it and to keep reading instead. But it wouldn't let him.
Why was she back? When did she return? Why did he send her away, oh Lord, what has he done?! Where did she go? And why should he care? He didn't care. It was all over anyway, it had been since the moment she had left the first time. She can't just turn on his doorstep expecting him to welcome her back. Oh dear, how could I? No! It's only fair, that- And why should he feel bad now?! Why should he be sorry for a few harsh words when it was her actions that had been the outrage here?!
Ouch, Helen thought as she walked the street away from Giles' apartment. She had been bracing herself for all sorts of possible outcomes, but nothing could have prepared her for the hardness in his eyes and for the sharp, merciless sound of his voice. She knew she had brought this upon herself, but it didn't hurt any less knowing that. Only now she began to wonder: Before she hadn't given a single thought trying to imagine what Giles would have been going through after she had left. She knew she would have hurt him, but she never bothered to imagine what his life would have been like afterwards, after both her and Buffy were gone. In her self-centered way it didn't occur to her that in those six months where she had been busy with trekking, telling herself she had done the right thing, teaching at Hogwarts and regaining her magic Giles' life went on as well, that he hadn't just seized to exist when he no longer was part of her life. What has he been doing in all those months? When did Buffy come back? How has he been? How did he deal with her leaving? What had he been doing in the first days after that? Her imagination had only gone as far as picturing him waking up the next day and finding her good-bye howler. How would he have felt after that? And... was there perhaps someone else in his life now?
Half an hour later, she barely noticed where her legs were taking her, she found herself at 1630 Revello Drive. Though it was quite late already, there were still lights on inside and Helen, without much thinking, feeling the need to talk to someone, walked up to the front door and rang.
It was Joyce that answered the door and Helen wondered for a split of a second how such a beautiful woman was still single, even despite the whole single parent thing. She saw on her face that it took her a moment until she realized who the visitor was – and, to Helen's confusion – turned slightly pink.
"Ah-ah... Hello," she stammered and smiled nervously.
"Hi," Helen said reluctantly. "I-ah... forgive me for calling on you this late... may I... is Buffy at home?"
Joyce opened the door wider and let Helen in. "No, she is-eh... she's on patrol," she said, the way that last word came over her lips was revealing that she was still adjusting to the fact that her daughter was a vampire slayer.
"Oh," Helen came to a halt, "then maybe I should-"
"She should be back any minute now, you are welcome to wait if you'd like," Joyce motioned towards the living room and when Helen seemed hesitant, she merely asked: "Would you like something to drink?"
What followed were about twenty very awkward minutes, as both women who hardly knew each other and who didn't really know how to talk to each other without saying something wrong or asking the wrong questions or giving away too much as they weren't entirely sure about their respective roles, tried to make small talk until Buffy's return finally put them out of their misery.
"Hey, you're still up," Buffy greeted her mother as Joyce walked up to meet her in the hallway. She looked a bit dishevelled, but rather pleased and relaxed after what obviously had been a successful round.
"Yes, and... you have a visitor," Joyce said while Helen got up to her feet.
Buffy turned around to see who it was and her eyes widened in surprise.
"Hello, Buffy," Helen said after a moment of silence. She saw her expression turn into something of a petulant smirk.
"So you've found your way back too," she said sarcastically. "Took you long enough." Joyce looked at her daughter with apprehension. "We weren't really counting on it anymore."
"Yes, I-ah... should think you wouldn't," Helen murmured taken aback.
"You back for good?" The slayer asked a little more peacefully.
"Ah... yes, actually, or-ah... at least I-ah...," even though that question didn't seem like a stumper, for some reason it made her all babbling again. Yes, the plan was to stay, but now she didn't really know whether she would be welcome here ever again, "I got my teaching post back, so-ah... I'll be returning to the school on Monday."
Buffy nodded and walked over to the sofa to sit down. Helen too took a seat in the nearest armchair again.
"So, have you seen Giles?" Buffy asked, grabbing a cookie from a plate on the side table.
Helen looked at her miserably. "Yes. He-ah... wasn't very... receptive."
"Any reason he should?" Buffy asked with a challenge in her voice.
"Buffy!" Joyce was about to dress her down, but Helen turned around at her and shook her head, and Joyce reluctantly left.
"What did you expect?" Buffy asked again when they were alone.
"Of all people I would have thought that you'd understand, Buffy," Helen replied quietly.
Buffy shook her head. "You left him when he would have needed you most!"
Helen opened her mouth to say something, to cut her off and explain at last as good as she could, but Buffy continued accusatorily: "How could you have done that after I was gone?!"
Helen raised her brows, amazed at that particular reproach. "Now wait a minute, hold it right there! I don't think that's fair – making me into some-some... I don't know what that should have made up for the mess you had left behind! I was never supposed to be just some tissue that he would cry into over your sudden leaving!" Her voice was raised and she didn't even know why exactly she got so angry, when she really had no right to be. Perhaps it was just some weird jealousy or rage over comparing the two "abandonments", and Buffy's implication that her own running away should have made Helen's leaving illicit and iniquitous.
Buffy was still looking at her defiantly, but wasn't saying anything.
Helen took a deep breath to calm down. "Look, I had my reasons for going. They weren't good reasons, but I didn't see it that way back then." And she began to tell, tried to explain what had made her run away.
"You had such dreams yourself, so perhaps you can understand what it was like, seeing some, even seemingly insignificant parts of them come true," she said when she was finished.
"Yeah, I guess so," Buffy willy-nilly had to admit. "But I never ran away because of those dreams."
"No, you ran away because someone you loved died," she said carefully, knowing very well it was a euphemistic depiction of what had happened with Acathla, but she didn't wish to rub salt into those wounds. "I hoped that by running away I'd prevent that from happening." She saw Buffy's baffled look and added: "Like I said, it all had been making a whole lot more sense back then."
The following Monday was the first day of school. Helen got a very warm welcome back from her colleague Mr. Pescoe with whom she would again share an office. Her first class was with the seniors, and she was for some reason terribly nervous, but then she entered the classroom and saw – apart from everyone being beyond surprised – that the vast majority of her former students looked really pleased and happy to have her back (with the exception of the handful of those who simply didn't give a damn about who was teaching history as they never cared anyway), and some of the anxiety fell off her when her look found Willow, whose big brown eyes were gleaming happily. Even Xander seemed positively impressed, and Helen got so excited inside that finally there were two persons who haven't welcomed her with a scowl, that she had a hard time teaching the lesson.
"You're back!" Willow exclaimed once the class was over and everyone except her and Xander had left.
"So Buffy, obviously, hasn't told you," she replied smiling at them both.
"She knows?" Willow asked just a little disappointed that she wouldn't be the one bringing the good news. But then something else occurred to her. "Does Giles know too? I bet he-" She spoke all excitement, until Helen interrupted her.
"He does," she said a little awkwardly, looking at the floor. "Well, he may not know I'm back at school... as... I didn't... actually get to that part." When she raised her head she saw they probably misunderstood. "He-ah... wouldn't talk to me. I guess he's-ah... mad... I mean angry."
"You think?" Xander asked innocently, but Willow gave him a "don't" look.
"We need to go to our next class," she said. "But, I know what, won't you come to the Bronze tonight? Some cool indie band from New York is playing their new album. And we could catch up."
Helen raised her brows, offering the girl a moment to reconsider her offer. "I don't dance, Willow. Also, I'm not eighteen. And there are limits to my willing to maintain close relationships with the students... So, why don't you come by my house tonight? I've got a brand new recording of Mahler's symphonies..."
Xander looked appalled, but before he could express his disgust, Willow quickly said: "Yeah, ok. We'll be there." And with that they ran off. "I'll tell Oz to bring a Dingoes' CD, just in case," she murmured to Xander as they couldn't be heard anymore.
Later that day Xander, Willow and Oz were sitting in Helen's living room. Buffy was out on a patrol with Faith.
Xander was eyeing the black cat sitting on the window sill, staring right back at him. Helen noticed amused the exchange.
"I found him sitting at my doorstep when I arrived," she explained the new addition to her household. "No idea where he came from, but he almost looked like he was expecting me," she walked over to the cat to stroke him behind his ears. He begun purring at once and narrowed his eyes pleasurably.
"He is not dead, right?" Xander asked. The incident with the Zombie cat from a few months ago that had started a little Zombie apocalypse was still fresh in his mind.
Helen gave him a confused look. "Of course not. It's merely somewhat peculiar. It almost seemed as if he had been in here before. When I let him in he knew instantly where the kitchen was, although I couldn't find any traces of a cat housing in here while I was gone."
"He's probably just really smart. Have you given him a name yet?" Willow asked.
Helen stroke once more fondly over the cat's head, then returned back to the sofa.
"I named him Catullus," she said solemnly. "Well, at first it was Catalina. Then this morning I noticed it's actually a he."
"I had no idea Mr. Michaelson was leaving," Willow said after Helen had served them some tea and cookies, referring to the history teacher who had replaced Helen at the start of the school year and who now got replaced himself.
"Well," Helen turned pink, "it was somewhat sudden I'd say.
Three curious pairs of eyes looked up at her.
"I-ah... I arranged for Mr. Michaelson to receive an offer he couldn't refuse," she said secretively.
"Really? I heard him saying once that he would only swap Sunnydale for being a bartender on Hawaii," Xander said.
Helen raised her brows meaningfully, but before he could express his disbelief, Oz asked: "How did you turn Snyder around?"
"You didn't use a love spell again, did you?" Willow joked.
Helen cleared her throat embarrassed and Willow's eyes widened in horror.
"Well, some convincing was necessary," she said defensively, "I mean magical convincing," she hurried to add when Xander made a disgusted grimace. "It was a little too good though."
"What do you mean?"
"Thankfully, I'm exempt from the arts teaching, but Principal Snyder decided I should take over Latin's class from Miss Jamison who's about to go on maternity leave."
"Yeah, I was wondering who's gonna teach us once she's gone," Willow, who was the only one among the Scoobies taking Latin, seemed pleased with this news.
After a while Helen subtly directed Xander and Oz into playing wizarding chess at a small coffee table while she wanted to talk to Willow.
"Willow, what happened... after I left?" She asked at last as they sat down on the sofa at the other end of the room.
Willow began to tell her about the major events from the day they had gone to see Giles about his latest search trip for Buffy and found out that Helen had left him too.
"I've never seen him like that before," Willow said after a while, "although he was being all British about it. He-eh... was pretty down, when he thought no one was looking. When we were around he tried, you know, to put on the usual stalwart librarian routine, to be dry but optimistic so that we wouldn't lose hope to find Buffy."
Helen stared thoughtfully into her fireplace. She was once again amazed how insightful the young girl was. There was a reason she wanted to talk with her about how things had been, knowing she would have seen things others didn't, and read between the lines, that she would have assessed the state of things – and of Giles' mind – with much more sensitivity than anyone else.
The clattering noises and Xander's cursing told them that he again lost another pawn in the game.
"He was so angry the other day," she said and her voice broke as she recalled her latest visit. She swallowed and cleared her throat. "Was he-eh... was he like that then?"
"No," Willow shook her head, "he wasn't mad or, you know, furious or anything, he was... bitter at first, but then... he was just hurt. And worried I guess, questioning everything, but mostly himself... Only in the past few weeks he seemed to have found back into his old ways. Even after Buffy's return, when I thought that would finally fix him, there still were moments, days where...," Willow paused, the sad look on Helen's face made her wonder whether she should to continue.
"So why did you leave?" She asked instead in a tentative voice.
And for the second time in a few days Helen began to tell her story about the continuing nightmares and the fear that they might have come to pass had she stayed.
"And? Do you still have them?" Willow asked and Helen saw, not really surprised, a compassion in her eyes that no one else had offered her so far.
She nodded. "Yes. But they are less specific, and thankfully much less frequent than before."
They were silent for a while, watching Xander and Oz play.
"So-eh... Giles...," Helen began nervously, "he-eh... he isn't seeing someone, is he?"
"Giles?" Xander drawled quizzically without taking his eyes off the chess board, where to everyone's surprise his knight was about to massacre one of Oz' rooks. "You serious? God no! What kinda woman would date a school librarian-" He looked up and grinned into an embarrassed smile. "I mean..."
Helen tried to look outraged, but she was both amused and pleased by Xander's reply.
She turned back at Willow. "Well, what does your fine insight tell you about whether he'll ever allow me to talk to him again? What should I do?"
Willow raised her brows. "My guess? The mojo you had to work on Snyder and Mr. Michaelson – that was a piece of cake compared to what you're in for with Giles."
"But how long do you reckon can he stay this angry?"
"Him? The emotional marathon man?" Willow pointed out. "You weren't here when he was mad at Buffy because she hadn't told him about-"
The sound of the telephone ringing in the anteroom interrupted them and Helen looked apologetically at Willow before she hurried to pick it up.
"Hello?"
"Helen?! Is that you?!" George Weasley was yelling into the speaker on the other side so loudly that Helen had to hold it several inches away from her ear. "Can you hear me? Helen? You there?!"
"Stop yelling, George," she said quietly, looking over her shoulder into the living room, thinking that the others must have wondered what kind of a madman was calling her. "I can hear you very well."
"Good!" He shouted just a tad more quiet than before, "it's weird that I can hear you so well even though you are so far away!"
"Not really it isn't, and you don't need to shout. Why are you calling me?"
"Well, Angelina insisted on getting one of these things," he was speaking like someone talking to a deaf old person, but at least he wasn't yelling anymore, "so we had it installed yesterday! And you are the only person I know, except Hermione – whom I'd never call, that has this thing as well, so..."
"So, you're just checking the connection," Helen said a bit exasperated.
"Yes," came the loud reply.
"Well, it seems to work just fine. Thank you for calling-"
"Wait! Something else!"
Helen rolled her eyes. She had met with George shortly before her departure from London, to tell him she was returning to Sunnydale and to buy a few supplies in his shop. Naturally, he had found her decision very commendable.
"Charlie was here the other day," he was still talking like to a retard, overpronouncing every word, and Helen was torn between the urge to laugh and the desire to yell back at him so that he'd stop, "he said to invite you to that wedding of his, end of March, March 23rd if I'm not wrong. It's in that place that you're supposed to know, in Romania, Sickish-shoor something, don't ask me."
"Sighişoara," she corrected him patiently.
"Whatever. Anyway, feel yourself invited!"
"Thanks," she said curtly. There was a short silence on both ends, clearly George was expecting her to say some more, he was probably eager to know how things were going, but Helen wasn't in the mood to discuss anything serious with him right now. Plus she's only been back since a few days. He'd have to wait until she had something more, and more pleasant to tell. She hoped that would be soon.
"Good night, George," she said and heard him sigh in disappointment before he wished her good day and, clearly with Angelina's help – given the noise in the background – he hung up.
Helen returned to the living room, where Xander had been finally defeated by Oz in the chess game – the remains of his king and queen laid scattered all over the coffee table. Willow, obviously quite turned on by her boyfriend's victory, was complimenting Oz who on his part was about to kiss her. Xander was still sitting in his chair, pouting and generally looking annoyed. Helen was looking at the scene with the notion that there was something missing. She frowned, trying to figure it out.
"We should probably go, it's really late," Willow softly disentangled herself from Oz' arms.
"Yeah," Oz agreed and walked slowly after her across the room, towards where Helen was standing.
Xander got up too, and that was when it occurred to Helen. "How's Cordelia?" She asked.
They all seemed to freeze for a moment, Willow threw a stealthy look at Oz, then at Xander, and then she shook her head imperceptibly, finally following Oz to the front door.
"Way to go," Xander murmured as he was passing Helen in the anteroom.
Helen was perplexed as she watched them walk out, they all muttered a listless "good night" and disappeared in the dark lane.
Next day Helen had a free period before lunch. She needed a few things from the library on the Russo-Japanese War she was supposed to talk about in her junior class, but mostly she needed to freshen up her Latin grammar up to a point where she would be able to explain and teach it to her new students. She wasn't sure if there were any good grammar books in the library, she knew Giles had a decent collection of his own, but she didn't dare to assume that he would lend it to her. In fact, she was rather worried about his general reaction when she'd turn up in the library. But she swallowed her fear, and some of her pride, as she swung the door and walked in.
AN: Thank you again for reading. It would be really awesome to read a comment or two on what you guys think altogether. I very much liked for Giles to be really pissed for a good while, I just wonder how convincing or in/out of character it may appear.
