Chapter 41
"Brooms?"
"Awesome for play and for travel."
"Black pointy hats?"
"Only for special occasions."
"Cauldrons?"
"Very sturdy for potion making."
"Wands?"
"Excellent way to channel magic."
"Bangers and mash?"
"Sausage and potatoes. Varied on tasty."
Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, was a witch. A witch, witch. With actual powers and everything. Something in which her two friends were still trying to wrap their minds around.
"So, you can make stuff happen just by waving that little stick of yours?" Xander asked, waving his hand around to make his point.
"It's a little more complicated than that," Buffy replied, smiling at the picture he made.
"Can you show us something? Oh, can you turn Xander into a goat?" asked a giddy Willow.
"Hey!" he exclaimed in protest.
"I can try," Buffy said with a shrug, pointing her wand to the frightened-eyed boy.
"Buffy," Giles warned, before she had a chance to demonstrate her transfiguration skills.
"Spoil sport," she mumbled, and pouted as she lowered her wand, much to the relief of one Xander Harris.
"Why don't you show them something a little less drastic?" Giles suggested.
"All right, fine. But it won't be as much fun."
Raising her wand again, Buffy pointed it at the stack of books on Giles's coffee table, and on the edge of their seats, Xander and Willow watched as the books disappeared with a swish and a flick.
"Those…those were first editions," Giles stuttered, nearing a panic attack.
"Chill, Giles," Buffy said calmly, and with another flick, the books reappeared. "See no harm, no foul."
Quickly moving past the sofa, he lowered himself down to the table and picked up the volumes. Checking each one for so much as a scratch. And much to his great relief, his beloved books remained unharmed.
"Thank, goodness," he grinned happily. Carefully and gently rechecking every book again.
"Uh, Giles?" Buffy asked, and with a raised eyebrow waited for the Watcher to turn around. "Do we need to leave you and the books alone?"
Giles moved his embarrassed eyes to all three teenagers. And seeing a large grin on each of their faces, he felt his cheeks begin to warm.
"Er, uh, well, th-they are first editions," he stuttered, suddenly feeling ridiculous about his behavior. Lowering the books to the table once again, he straightened himself up and tried to regain whatever self-respect he had left. "Completely irreplaceable you know. One of, uh, one of a kind."
And Buffy's grin widened even more. Same old Giles.
"That wasn't a British thing, was it?" Xander asked.
"Uh…" Buffy stumbled when the sudden face of Hermione Granger popped into her mind. "Depends on the British person."
"It's so weird thinking of you as British. I mean, British people equals Giles, and you are so not Giles," Willow commented, and at Giles's questioning look, she soon babbled her backtrack. "N-not that that's a bad thing. Being Giles, 'cause you know, that would be great. I mean, you'd know all this stuff about demons and vampires, and you'd drink tea and eat scones. Scones are good. D-do you eat scones, Buffy?"
"Thank you, Willow," Giles uttered, at the somewhat compliment she tried to save face with.
"I'm good with the scones," said Buffy. "I'm not much into the tea thing though."
"Isn't that illegal?" asked Xander.
"I'm a rebel."
"Yes, well," Giles interjected, smiling on the inside at the easy comfort they've managed to recover so quickly. "Speaking of illegal. I think it's vital to mention that everything Buffy has just told you, and shown you, must be held in the strictest of confidence. No one, and I mean no one, must know about any of this."
"Giles, you know we – wait, what do you mean 'speaking of illegal'?" Willow asked, catching the curious little reference.
"Are you saying we're gonna get arrested if we tell people?" Xander said smiling, along with Willow, at his joke. Or at least at what they honestly thought was a joke, which was until Buffy and Giles glanced at each other. A worried look that didn't go unnoticed.
"S-seriously?" Xander asked, all traces of humor on his, as well as Willow's face, gone.
Taking off his glasses, Giles began to rub them clean as he settled on the arm of Buffy's chair.
"I guess we should've informed you about the Wizarding world, prior to Buffy's admission to being a witch," he said, placing the spectacles back on his face.
"There's a Wizarding world?" asked Willow.
"Boy is there ever," Buffy mumbled, settling herself back against the cushions knowing where this was headed.
"So, when you say 'world' you mean…" Xander trailed away.
"I mean an entire society of witches and wizards that are governed by their own laws. They have their own government. Th-their own communities. It's basically an entirely different world within itself," Giles began his explanation to the two fascinated teens. While the third un-fascinated teen's mind drifted away to Never-Never-Land, wondering if the Espresso Pump still made those extra-chocolaty mochas she liked.
He shouldn't be here. So what if her jacket had a few tears? It could've been a tree or a dog. Maybe some sort of rabid bird had…rabid bird? Okay, now he really was grasping at straws. Nope, he definitely shouldn't be here.
Harry was standing in the middle of Buffy's room. His arms at his sides as he stared at the doors covering the inside of Buffy's wardrobe. His mind debating itself every second. He said he didn't trust her, and apparently, he was bent on proving that fact. What was he doing? This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. Ron said they couldn't be friends, but he had said he could try. And now here he was sneaking into her bedroom while she was away visiting her friends, looking for a jacket with a few tears that might've been from anything to ease his suspicious and wary mind. Oh yeah, he really was 'trying.'
"Harry?"
Uh-oh. Harry turned immediately to the doorway. Attempting his best to remain nonchalant. Keyword: attempting.
"M-Ms. Summers," he said, scratching the back of his head before he realized that wasn't what a calm Harry would do. So, he crossed his arms over his chest to keep his hands from fidgeting. "H-Hi."
"Were you looking for something?" she asked, walking into the room. He noticed that her tone wasn't accusatory in the slightest. So, she wasn't suspicious, then? Good. Unless of course she was very good at hiding it.
"Oh, uh…I was just…" What? What was he doing? "I was, er, looking for…for Hedwig! Yeah, I, uh, I thought I saw her fly in here."
Valid? Yes. Believable? Well…
"Any luck?" she asked.
Apparently yes, very believable.
"Not really," he replied, unable to keep the nervous smile from his face. "I guess…"
Harry's words were pushed aside when curiosity seeped in. Hanging from Ms. Summers's arms was a dark, denim jacket. Buffy's dark, denim jacket. The one she had been wearing last night.
"Harry?" Joyce asked when she noticed his attention had drifted away.
Upon hearing his name, Harry blinked, and his mind snapped back into focus.
"Sorry," he said, smiling self-consciously. "I-I didn't really get much sleep last night. Guess I'm not really feeling all that well."
"Hmmm," she mumbled thoughtfully, her mothering instincts kicking in. Joyce walked over to him and placed a hand on his forehead, and Harry, who was used to being mothered by Mrs. Weasley so often, let her. It felt nice being fretted over – after having gone without it for so long. "You don't feel warm. Maybe you should lie down. Get some rest."
"Yeah," he nodded agreeably.
"Let me just leave this on Buffy's bed, and I'll make you some hot soup," she said, walking over and laying down the garment. "It will make you feel better in no time."
"No, it's all right, you don't –"
"I insist. I do it for Buffy whenever she's feeling under the weather and it always helps. So, not another word."
Her insistence made his heart flood with warmth, and he didn't dare deny her offer again.
"Okay. Thank you."
Joyce smiled again as she walked back to Harry and placed a motherly hand on the side of his face. "Now, why don't you go get yourself settled in and I'll bring you the soup in a second."
"Okay."
"Good."
She walked out and Harry was once again left alone. His eyes strayed over to the bed. Where Buffy's jacket lay. The pecking curiosity was at it again, but he couldn't move. It would be so easy. Walk over to the bed, pick up the jacket and…and then what? He hadn't exactly gotten to that part.
If he picked up Buffy's jacket, guilt would undoubtedly fill him, and it would only plague him with more questions he wouldn't get answers for. Not to mention if Buffy were to ever find out about his poking around her personal property, it would be the end of whatever chance of a friendship they still had. But if he didn't…if he didn't…
Harry turned and walked out of the room. If he didn't then that spark of a chance would still shine. He said he would try and by Merlin's Beard he was going to. Because one little curiosity over a damaged jacket was not enough to sway him. Besides, it's not as if Buffy had been out hunting demons or the like. That's ridiculous. Ha, Buffy hunting demons. What was she, the Vampire Slayer?
"…worse than Snyder."
"Worse than Snyder? Is that even possible?" asked Willow.
"If you call having students mutilate their own hands as a form of punishment worse, than a big uh-huh."
"Wow, scary." Willow shivered, subconsciously covering her left hand with her right.
"Scary is not even close," Buffy continued. "She's full-blown Freddy Kreuger. I think she might even be getting some sort of sick, twisted kick out of it."
"Don't you just love the way she talks?" Xander interrupted playfully, unfazed by talks of Umbridge and her gruesome form of punishment, and flung an arm around Buffy's shoulders.
"Be happy he hasn't asked you to record a message on his answering machine yet," Willow advised.
"Ooh!"
"No," Buffy firmly denied.
Xander stuck out his tongue. "Mean."
The trio finally reached the Espresso Pump, and after ordering and receiving their drinks, they settled into a table far in the corner to talk about everything wizard and demons without being overheard. Not like it would really matter in a town like this. Denial City, USA to the letter.
"So, have you talked to Angel?" asked Willow.
"I was gonna stop by before I left," Buffy replied. "Have you guys seen him? H-how is he?"
"We haven't seen him yet," the red head answered. "He's kind of been reclusive."
"He checks in with Giles though," Xander added. "And the G-man says he's doing okay."
"Good," she said. Relief and worry all rolled into one unenthusiastic smile.
Buffy sipped her much missed drink and let her mind wander. Angel very much first priority in her concerns. He'll be all right. He just needs a little time to get past old ghosts. He'll be fine. He – he'll be fine.
"Buffy?"
But what if he wasn't? Was it really her business anymore? As long as he didn't start killing people or try to destroy the world was he her concern?
"Buffy."
She still loved him. Always will. But that had its limitations. They couldn't get too close or the world could literally come to an end. She needed to move on. What other choice did she have?
"I think we've lost her."
But did moving on mean they couldn't be friends? Couldn't they at least have that? She respected Angel. His opinions. His ideas. His century-old wisdom. He was stability. Buffy knew she could always rely on him. No matter how far apart they may be or what stage of their lives they were in. Angel was fact. Unwavering fact. And –
"Buffy?!"
Hello, reality.
"What?" she asked, blinking twice in attention.
Xander and Willow rolled their eyes in exasperation.
"Geez, Buff. Where were you? Narnia?" Xander asked. "Wait. Is there really a Narnia?"
"How would I know that?"
"Angel's gonna be fine, Buffy," Willow assured her, understanding the look on her friend's face.
"I know, but…it's Angel, you know," she said.
"We know."
This is what she missed. Her friends. The two people who would know every freak part of her and not care. Who understood her nonverbal communication to the letter.
"Anyway, enough about me. How's the Wicca going, Will?" Buffy asked, changing the subject to change her mood.
"Actually, it's been really great," Willow brightly replied. "I can float pencils and turn ice into fire, sorta. I mean I'm not exactly making things disappear and popping in and out of places. And no way near your level but –"
"Willow, my magic and your magic are totally different things," Buffy interrupted. "Believe me when I say yours is way harder."
"It is?"
"Yeah, I mean, wizards and witches, we're born with magic. All we have to do is channel it to do what we want. But you, you're like essentially creating magic. That's a toughie. A Muggle doing magic is majorly impressive. I mean, come on, you re-souled a vampire for crying out loud."
"Really, that's – Muggle? What's a Muggle?"
"Is that some sort of British cuss word or something?"
"You know not every word I say that makes a lack of sense is British."
"Sure it does," Xander said.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "A Muggle is a non-magical person," she explained.
"But Willow can do magic."
"Yes, but she wasn't born with it, so technically she's still a Muggle."
"Muggle," Willow chuckled. "Funny word."
"Yep, we definitely have our moments," she agreed. "Can't beat going to a school named Hogwarts."
"See now that's a name," Xander commented.
"You're so lucky going to a school where all you do is study magic," said Willow. "All we do is study algebra."
"And the occasional demon," Xander pointed out.
"It is pretty great, but it's not always as fun as it sounds," she informed them. "Training your magic to do what you want is kinda like trying to train a three-headed dog. Not to mention how scary it is learning to do potions that could leave you in the hospital for days."
"And here I thought living on a Hellmouth was hard," Xander sarcastically dripped.
Buffy lifted her straw and flicked the whipped-cream tip at him.
"Can never be too sweet can I, Buff?" he winked, wiping his cheek clean with his index finger before sticking it in his mouth.
"Or irritating."
Willow watched them and realized how much she really had missed this. Buffy had been gone way too long. She missed having her around. The mocking and teasing. It was like old times.
"So, speaking of school and sweet, any cute boys?" Willow asked in full girly-mode.
An immediate smile came to Buffy's face, which was an immediate giveaway. "Well, there is one."
"Really? What's he like?"
"Dark hair, green eyes, super sweet. Total drool worthy."
"Sounds dreamy. What's his name?"
"Theodore Nott," she said fondly. "I've known him since we were kids."
"What about Angel?" Xander asked, honestly curious, and it earned him a kick to the shin from Willow. "Ow!"
"Angel's…not an option," Buffy sadly confessed. "The last time I was here we realized that we can't have what we want, so…that was pretty much it. All dreams dashed."
"Are you okay?" Willow asked, concerned.
"I'll be fine. It's just that whole 'it heals with time' thing."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm sure Angel's really miserable, too."
Buffy smiled at Willow's attempt at comfort. "Thanks. But I hope not."
It was getting depressing. Xander didn't do well with depressing. So for the sake of his friends' happiness, he decided to ask one very important question that had been on his mind.
"So, Buff, I was wondering, if by any chance, you just happened to bring your school uniform today?"
Yep, same old Xander.
They spent the rest of the afternoon together, but come nightfall, Buffy headed to the far side of town. Where an old mansion on Crawford St stood. To visit an ex.
Over half an hour of awkward. Unbelievably awkward. Unusually and uncomfortably awkward. It felt like they had shared more silence than actual words.
"How's your mother?"
"She's good."
"And school?"
"School hasn't started back up yet."
"Right."
See? Awkward.
"Buffy."
"Angel."
They smiled and gave a short chuckle at the clash of their names.
"You should go first," Angel offered.
"I was just gonna say…" I love you. I miss you. "…that I should be heading back."
"Oh." He sounded so disappointed that the regret was on the tip of her tongue. "I guess it's been a long day for you, hasn't it?"
"Considering the time difference, it really has," she said tiredly. "But I'll stop by again before my holiday is over."
He didn't want her to leave, but what could he really say. He had to get used to this. To be without her. That was the plan. As painful and heart wrenching as it was.
They bade goodnight, not goodbyes, and she was gone. But she didn't exactly go straight home. As tired as she was, Buffy decided to take a sweep of the cemetery. You can take the girl out of Sunnydale, but you can't take Sunnydale out of the girl.
Twirling the wand in her hand, she passed by headstones with her ears ready for sound. Which came sooner than she had expected. Buffy waited, and then she heard the leaves crunch again. Some thing was nearby. Slipping behind a tree, she perked her ears. There were no sounds of crunched foliage, but the footsteps were clearer now. Not to mention the strange tingle in her spine. It felt familiar and dangerous. No way near any other tingle she had ever felt.
She waited…and waited…and then kicked the source of her tingles to the ground. Game on.
Oomph! Okay apparently, they knew how to play, too. Buffy landed a kick and a right punch before her opponent landed a left. Geez, this chick packs a wallop. Left. Right. Kick. Punch. Oomph! Floor.
Buffy watched from her surprising spot on the ground as her attacker/victim neared her. But what was even more surprising was the stake in the girl's hand. What the – okay no time for 'what the's because that stake was getting pretty close to her beating heart that will stop beating if she didn't do something fast. Lifting her wand, she waved it, and the girl was sent flying back. You know, those nonverbal spells Remus had put into that little spell book he had given her were coming in very handy. Thank goodness she had all those vampires and demons in the Forbidden Forest to practice on.
With her wand at the ready, Buffy moved over to the dark-haired figure, who was beginning to rise to her feet. Wait! Stake. Dark hair. Skintight clothes…
"Lemme guess? Blonde hair, voodoo magic, kick-ass strength, you must be the infamous Buffy," the girl said, dusting herself off.
"And you must be Faith," she correctly deduced.
Now standing, the girls couldn't help but eye each other. Competitiveness searing in automatically.
This little Dorothy-size of a person was a slayer? The slayer she hears about nonstop? Guess the rapidly forming bruise on her cheek seemed to think so. Man, can this chick hit.
"So, what brings you back to Kansas? Last I heard you were in the Land of Giles."
"I came to visit my friends."
"And take a stroll down slay-memory lane."
"Yeah, well, what can I say, you can take the girl – what do you mean voodoo magic I must be the infamous Buffy?"
The info had just now managed to hit her brain. How did Faith know to connect those two?
"Took you long enough," Faith grinned. "Your little Scooby Gang may be a lot of interesting things but low talkers ain't one of 'em. I heard 'em talk about your little pop in, pop out, glass shattering thing."
"You were spying on them?"
"Actually, I was heading to the library to check for any demon action when I heard 'em through the door."
Can't really blame her for that. Right place, right time. Uncaring loud voices from oblivious friends.
"Okay, so you know. And I'm guessing that means you know I'm –"
"A witch."
"Yes," she confirmed, annoyed at being interrupted. "And seeing as you know all about secret keeping and hidden identities, I don't think I need to tell you –"
"To keep it a secret."
Geez, this girl was annoying. "Can I finish a sentence, please."
Faith put her hands up in surrender as she enjoyed the irritation on Buffy's face.
"What was I saying?" she mumbled to herself. "Oh right. The 'don't tell anyone thing.' Well, I guess I'm done then."
"Jesus, B, you always this wound up?"
It sure did feel like it, didn't it? It was always one thing or another since…well since she had become the Slayer. No, since her second year. Life just didn't seem to stop its torment on Buffy Summers.
"Not always," she answered tiredly, leaning against a headstone. "Honestly, I don't even feel like myself anymore – whoever she was. It's – sorry, do you even wanna hear this?"
"I got nowhere to be," she responded casually. "Besides, any dirt on you makes me feel better."
"Charming."
"Never said I was," she shrugged.
Buffy shook her head at the unapologetic girl. Why couldn't she be like that?
"Anyway, ever since I went back to school everything just seems to have rolled up into one big ball of crap. That's what my life has turned into. A crap-ball."
"You always this poetic?" Faith asked ironically.
"Only when I'm tired," she smiled lazily.
"So, what's been so crappy about it?"
"I don't know. Actually, scratch that, I do know. And I should've expected it. I just didn't expect how it would affect me. How would I feel about it."
"About what?"
"My comeuppance," Buffy replied.
"Your comeuppance of what?"
"Of how treated people. Of how I was."
You mean she wasn't always all good and selfless? Was Cinderella actually the bad stepsister?
"How were you?"
"Well, you've met Cordelia, right?"
"You mean Little Miss Lick My Pumps?" she asked, and Buffy nodded. "You were as bad as Queen C?"
"Actually, compared to me, Cordelia seems like Mother Theresa. I put the word bitch to shame, and I didn't care," she said, and gave a heavy sigh. "But like I said, that was then. And people seem hell bent on keeping me that way. Not to mention I have to share living space with the people I treated the crappiest, and for a whole school year to boot. It hasn't exactly been the best of times for me."
Why was she spilling her guts? Was she drunk? Oh, who cares. It was getting out and it felt good. No more festering, pestering feelings. Guess it's true what they say. It's always easier to talk to a stranger. Especially one who knew how to ask the right questions.
"So, what? They treat you like crap and you just let 'em?" Faith asked, not understanding the behavior.
"Well, I kinda owe it to 'em don't I?"
"No," she said strongly. "Jesus, B, from what I hear this ain't like you. Your friends are always going on about you being all brave and not taking anybody's crap. And now you're telling me you let a couple a kids treat you like shit because you feel guilty about how you treated 'em, what? Like two years ago?"
"Well…I…yes?"
"Why?" she exclaimed, unknowingly irritated.
Why indeed.
"I-I…I…"
'I' what? Had she really changed so much? Was Strong Buffy replaced by weak little Cry Baby Buffy?
"You need to get over your guilt, B. Forget about all those brats that can't deal with their childhood trauma. Life moves on and so should they. Hell, so should you!"
Get over it! She should. Why hadn't she? Why did she care? It was two years ago and life moves on. It had moved on. Every little mean thing she did was of the past. She wasn't like that anymore. If she hadn't proven that to them since she had come back, then that was their issue not hers.
"I guess you're right," Buffy admitted.
"Course I'm right," she said smugly.
Yes, Faith was so beyond right. The question was, however, did it change anything?
