TITLE: You Can’t Go Home Again 1/3
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: PG-13 (Dark)
DISTRIBUTION: Not sure what all sites are out there, but if you want it, you
can have it. Just please email me your URL, so I know where my story is going.
And of course, give proper credit.
SUMMARY: Was Giles right to leave? What will he find when he comes home?
SPOILERS: Everything up to “Wrecked”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and
non-profit use.
EMAIL: jkphilips@hotmail.com. WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/jkphilips_fiction/
Trying to, to what? Desert me? Abandon me? Leave me all alone when I really
need somebody?
Giles sank back into the airplane seat, Buffy’s angry words still echoing in
his mind, even after all this time. It was the last real conversation they’d
had, when he’d tried to make her understand why he needed to leave. All he’d
managed to do was make her hate him. He doubted that time and distance had
changed that. If anything, it had probably made it worse.
Six months had passed, and although they spoke occasionally on the phone, he
could hear the cold shoulder in her tone, in her terse replies. She was distant
and brisk, giving him the necessary updates and nothing more: she was fine,
everyone was fine, no she didn’t need anything from him. But he never knew what
was truly going on with her, with Sunnydale, with the place he still thought of
as home.
He’d had second thoughts about coming back, had even said as much to Anya, but
she had given him an enthusiastic tongue lashing for even considering not
walking her down the aisle. So he would come home for Anya and Xander’s
wedding, would see if there was any hope of mending his friendship with Buffy,
and he would leave again within the week, for better or worse. He had no place
in Sunnydale any longer.
The plane set down, and he waited for the passengers around him to gather their
carry-ons. As he walked down the jetway, he allowed himself the momentary hope
that Buffy would be waiting for him at the gate, that he would be forgiven,
that she would smile at him and her former vivaciousness would be restored, her
recent dark cloak of misery and apathy shed and forgotten, that in the sight of
a strong, vibrant Buffy his hard made decision would prove correct.
But it was only Xander and Anya waiting for him as he disembarked. Anya greeted
him with her usual enthusiastic hug that nearly knocked him over. He patted her
on the back awkwardly, his arms pinned at his side by her embrace.
“We missed you.”
“I’ve missed all of you as well,” he replied as she released him. Xander
quietly waited to be acknowledged, and Giles held out his hand to the young
man, pulling him into a warm embrace at the last moment. “Congratulations,
Xander. I’m so happy I could be here to share this with you both.”
Xander shrugged and exchanged an uncomfortable glance with his fiancé before
steering Giles off to collect his luggage.
Giles watched them both with a puzzled frown, growing more concerned with each
passing moment. They each looked far too glum for two people who were supposed
to be getting married in a few days. He told them as much as they drove out of
the airport parking lot and towards the Magic Box.
“Things have gotten bad since you left, Giles. Really bad.” Xander clutched the
steering wheel with both hands as he said it, and Anya nodded in agreement.
Giles sat forward in his seat in alarm. “Buffy? Is she…?” Another possibility
for her absence at the airport had just occurred to him, and his stomach
lurched at the very idea.
“No, she’s… fine, I guess. We shouldn’t really talk about it unless… do you
know how to set wards? You know, stop eavesdroppers?”
“Wards?” He glanced back and forth between them, completely baffled and
struggling to comprehend the missing context for their conversation. “We’re
alone in a moving vehicle. What eavesdroppers can you possibly be concerned
about?”
“Never mind,” Xander dismissed Giles’ confusion, and Anya turned in her seat to
give the ex-watcher a reassuring pat on the arm. “We’ll talk about it at the
hotel.”
“Hotel?”
Anya faced the back seat. “After a brief stop at the Magic Box for supplies.”
She smiled brightly. “Oh, and you can see what I’ve done with the place in your
absence. I’ve really opened up the market for the younger crowd. They really go
for that gothic Anne Rice feel. They like a little mystery in their magic. I
guess it just takes a younger proprietor to know what the kids these days
want.”
Giles settled back into his seat, crossing his arms unhappily. “You’re eleven
bloody hundred years older than me.” He sank into a miserable silence, quickly
realizing that neither of them intended to tell him anything anytime soon.
They parked in front of the Magic Box, and the first thing he noticed was the
iron bars over the windows. He climbed out of the car, studying what used to be
his store with a careful eye for detail. The front window still bore a crack
from top to bottom, held together with duct tape. A small sign in the lower
left corner read: “Shoplifters will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the
law and then cursed with eternal bad breath.”
Giles raised one eyebrow in Anya’s direction. “It appears the younger crowd
also has a taste for larceny?”
Xander laughed uncomfortably. “Those kids these days. Someone should have a
talk with their parents, huh?” He waved his older friend through the door and
into the store.
It hadn’t escaped Giles’ notice that the clerk behind the register had buzzed
them in. The familiar bell over the door was removed, no longer needed, and he
inspected the new security system on the front door for a moment with
curiosity. Anya stepped beside him, and pointed out various features with
pride: the video camera surveillance, the heavy iron grate for after closing,
and her personal favorite: the magic wards that prevented violence from being
done inside the store.
“Angel set me up with some girls in LA who came out and did the job for me. I
got a real deal on the whole package.”
Giles shook his head in disbelief and began to wander around the rest of his
store. “So these are the security expenses that continually show up on your
financial reports? Are you sure they’re quite necessary?”
She huffed, clearly offended that he should question her. “Let’s see: you
hadn’t even opened yet before a demon showed up looking for Buffy and the best
you could do in self-defense was waive a fertility statue at it. All those
demons came in and beat us up while we couldn’t see them because of Tara’s
spell. That snake thing burst in here, looking for the Key for Glory. And let’s
not forget your last day here when those vampires attacked us while we all had
amnesia.” She suddenly grew flustered and dropped her eyes. “Second thought,
let’s forget that whole amnesia thing.”
He looked away, a blush creeping across his own features. “Happily.”
Her previous self-righteousness restored, she met his eyes and continued. “My point
is that if all that weren’t good enough reason to beef up security, then surely
now that-”
“An, honey,” Xander had come up behind her and stopped her tirade with a gentle
touch on the shoulder. “All that can wait. Supplies?”
“Right.”
Giles was left standing alone again, frustrated and lost and dreading whatever
briefing they were waiting to deliver. His eyes wandered up to the second floor
where the more dangerous items were kept. Obviously she had moved the
inventory, because a banner draped across the railing advertised that all one’s
tarot needs could be found there.
Six months. It was silly really, to have expected everything to have stayed the
same. But he had not expected everything to have changed so much. And a
sinking, empty pit in his stomach warned him that he had not yet seen the worst
of the changes.
They left with three shopping bags between them. Giles gave up asking
questions. Trying to wrestle answers from these two was only giving him a
headache. He was tired and jetlagged, and he only wanted to close his eyes and
open them again on the plane, to land in Sunnydale and have everything be the
way it was supposed to be. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass
of the car window and watched the scenery pass outside as they drove to places
unknown. He couldn’t help but comment as he noticed, “Everyone is closing
earlier than I remember.”
“It’s almost dark,” Xander answered.
“I don’t understand,” he murmured, not so much to Xander as to the Universe in
general.
“Just hang on,” his young friend begged him. “We’re almost to the hotel.”
“I think I’d rather go to Buffy’s house. I need to see her.”
He didn’t miss the glance that passed between his two young friends before
Xander asked with false good cheer, “So how’s life in merry old England?”
Giles groaned and closed his eyes. “Wake me when you decide to clue me in.”
They pulled up outside a shady looking motel room, not a place Giles would have
chosen to stay. “Xander?” he asked, somewhat anxiously.
But Xander and Anya were already out of the car and standing outside motel room
number nine, Xander watching his fiancé intently, and Anya reaching out with
one hand, her eyes closed in concentration.
Giles approached in time to hear her say, “The wards are still intact, which is
a good thing, ’cause I’m pretty much magicked out. I think you gotta give me a
least another day or two before you make me set anymore. I’m not exactly a
super powerful witch or anything, you know.”
Xander kissed her. “You’re doing great, An, really you are. I’m sure we’ll be
able to stay here another day or two, and maybe Giles will have a plan or
something.”
“Maybe Giles needs to be told what the hell is going on first.” He had reached
his limit of patience.
They opened the door and waved him inside. Xander set the Magic Box bags on the
floor and glanced around the small motel room nervously. “Sorry about
everything, Giles,” he said, his eyes still scanning the room, passing over
each untouched double bed, his fingers rifling through a stack of papers on a side
table as he talked. “We never know when they’re listening, so we can’t really
talk where it isn’t safe. Anya warded this room for us, so we should be good.”
Xander faced the ex-watcher for a moment, giving him his full attention and an
embarrassed shrug. “It’s also why we couldn’t really say anything over the
phone. Wards don’t really work on phone lines.”
Anya had wandered farther into the room and knocked hesitantly on the bathroom
door. “Buffy?”
The door opened slightly, and at first he couldn’t see her, because Anya was
blocking his view. When his slayer did finally step into the main room, the
first thought that crossed his mind was how incredibly thin she looked. The
dark circles pressed beneath her eyes made her look like a walking corpse. Giles
swallowed hard.
“Look who’s come back for a visit,” Anya said cheerfully.
“Hello, Buffy,” he said softly.
Her eyes lifted to find his, but there was no life in them, only the smallest
sliver of recognition. She didn’t come forward to embrace him. She didn’t smile
or say hello. She didn’t yell at him for leaving. Her eyes merely slipped past
him to land on Xander, and that was all the acknowledgement her watcher
received.
“Xander?”
“Yeah, Buff?”
“Did you guys remember to pick up Dawn from school?”
He and Anya shared a solemn glance. It was Anya who answered her question.
“She’s living with her father now, remember? Maybe you can call her later.”
“Oh,” Buffy replied flatly. “Okay. I better get ready for patrol.” And she
returned to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
“Living with her father?” Xander hissed, closing the distance to Anya and
glaring at her in anger.
The ex-demon merely pulled herself straighter as she defended herself. “It’s
better than saying she’s in jail for shoplifting or that she ran away from home
or… Well, anyway, what difference does it make? She never remembers what you
tell her, so why not tell her something nice?”
“And when she wants to give Dawn a call?”
“She’ll forget about that too.”
Giles stumbled over to the closest bed and sat down before he fell down. His
knees were beginning to feel weak. He stopped their bickering with a soft
question. “What happened to Dawn?” He was trying to remember the last time he
had spoken to the younger Summers sister. He always asked after her, but it had
been four or five months since he’d actually heard her voice on the line.
His friends stared at the ground for a long time before Xander found the voice
to answer. “It started with Willow and her-”
“No, it was Spike,” Anya interrupted. “Spike and his stalker, psycho-”
“Anya!” Xander cut her off as the bathroom door opened and Buffy emerged. She
didn’t take notice of the halted conversation or the oppressive silence. She
walked steadily towards the door, lifted a crossbow from the modest arsenal
stacked by the door without breaking stride, and was out of the motel room
without a word goodbye.
They watched the space she left behind for several moments before Anya asked,
“You think she’s okay to patrol alone? She did seem kind of… out of it just
now.”
Xander grabbed a crossbow for himself and threw Giles an apologetic look. “I swear
we will tell you everything as soon as we get back.”
Anya was stocking up on crosses and stakes, and he looked back and forth
between the two of them. “I think I should come to,” he said.
“No, no,” his young friend insisted. “Not a good idea ’til you know the full
scoop. No time for that now; we got to catch up to Buffy. Just stay. Chill. Get
over your jetlag. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”
They left him alone, still sitting on the motel bed, his thoughts spinning with
unanswered questions. He considered following them despite Xander’s objections,
but prudence won out. Not knowing what was going on, he would only be a
liability to them.
So instead he explored the room, searching for clues for what they had not told
him. Apparently Xander and Anya and Buffy were all staying in this room, had
stayed here for more than a few days as the stack of dirty laundry in the
corner and the assorted boxes of carry-out in the trash could attest. The
supplies from the Magic Box all had something to do with wards and protections,
especially from someone else’s magic. Their earlier fears about eavesdroppers
made more sense.
He turned on the TV and watched the news. Apparently Sunnydale was now under a
sunset curfew. A string of assaults, murders, and burglaries over the last few
months meant the city was not safe at night. They interviewed a 7-11 clerk who
had been robbed by a group of teenagers. Giles understood now too about the
extra security at the Magic Box.
He sighed and sat back down on the bed. Why hadn’t they told him any of this?
He would have come back sooner if he’d known. He would have helped in any way
he could. He had thought he was coming back for a wedding, but it seemed he was
coming back to a war zone.
A knock at the door pulled him from his maudlin and guilt-ridden thoughts. He
answered it cautiously, only undoing the chain when he recognized who was
standing at the other side.
At some point since his arrival, it had started to rain, and was now pounding
in a relentless downpour. It was a testament to his distraction that he hadn’t
noticed the patter of it across the roof earlier or the steady beat of it on
the cement parking lot.
Dawn stood shivering at the threshold, her hair plastered down, her clothes
stuck to her skin, thoroughly drenched from head to toe. She looked nearly as
surprised to see him as he was to see her.
“Giles?”
“Dawn?” They just stared at each other for a moment, before her teeth started
chattering, and he remembered where he was. “For God’s sake, Dawn, come in out
of the rain. You’re positively soaked.”
She came in and stood dripping in the entranceway while he fetched some clean
towels. She stared at him as if he were out of place, which, granted, he was.
“What are you doing here?”
He wrapped one towel around her shoulders, another on her head to dry her hair.
“I thought I was coming to walk Anya down the aisle, but it seems I was
mistaken. Seems there’s a lot they’ve been leaving out when I call.”
“I think Buffy just didn’t want you to be disappointed,” she murmured as she
began drying off. “What did they tell you?”
“Nothing, I’m afraid,” he answered, as he looked for some dry clothes of
Buffy’s that the girl might change into. “Although, I got the impression that
you had… run away?”
Dawn ducked her head, water running down her face, either from the rain or her
tears. “Yeah. Ran away. That about sums it up.” She started half-heartedly
drying her hair with the towel. “I guess… I don’t think Buffy’s been the same
since she… came back. She didn’t really care if I was there or not. I was just
one more thing on her list of stuff she didn’t want to have to worry about.”
Giles took her by the shoulders firmly. “You mustn’t think that, Dawn. Your
sister loves you very much. She even asked after you today.”
Dawn looked up, smiling hopefully. “She did?”
“Yes. I think your leaving hit her very hard. She does love you. We all
do.” He watched her for a moment as she resumed drying her hair. “Did you come
back? Is that why you’re here?”
She shrugged. “Dunno. They all hate me. I don’t know if I can.”
He tilted her face up with a finger under her chin. “Your sister ran away when
she was just a little older than you.”
“I remember.”
“Then you also remember how we all worried about her, how thankful we were to
have her back. That’s exactly how they must feel about you.”
She nodded, shivering still in her wet, dripping clothes. He steered her to the
bed, making her sit on the edge where he joined her. He took the towel from her
shoulders and started rubbing her arms vigorously and her back too, trying to
dry her off before she caught cold. She giggled slightly, and the sound made
him smile.
“God, Dawn, you’re freezing.” His hands slid down her arms and took both her
hands in his own, rubbing them between his. He blew on them, trying to warm
them with his breath. He smiled at her affectionately. “Your hands are cold as
ice, Dawn. How long were you out in the rain?”
And then the smile slipped from his face, and his hands stilled in their
movements. He stared down at the two small hands he held in his own. He looked
up, searching her deep brown eyes, this girl who felt in his heart just like a
daughter. He didn’t want to turn around, but he did, just his head, very
slowly.
In the full-length mirror on the wall behind them, he sat alone on the bed.
Dawn had no reflection.
:: Can't go Home...pt2 ::