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buffyfic-digest       Wednesday, August 12 1998       Volume 02 : Number 297



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: "Faith" -- "Part Two: Happy New Year" (2/9)
       BUFFYFIC: "Faith" -- "Part Three: The Path of Thorns" (3a/9)

See the end of the digest for information on (un)subscribing to the buffyfic
or buffyfic-digest mailing lists and on how to retrieve back issues.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Date: Wed, 12 Aug 1998 11:44:57 EDT
From: <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Faith" -- "Part Two: Happy New Year" (2/9)

Feedback: YES! To [e-mail]. No flames, please, but constructive
criticism is eagerly awaited.

See part 1a for all notes and disclaimers.

~

                   "Part Two: Happy New Year"

            //New Year's Eve and it's hard to believe
                  Another Zodiac's gone around
             While you drank yourself high on hoping
          And watched the ceiling spin from the ground
                Counting down from ten it's time
                   To make your annual prayer
                    "Secret Santa in the sky
                  When will I get my share?"//
               -"This Will Be My Year", Semisonic

     She would be alright. Angel kept repeating the words in his
mind as he pretended to nurse the cup of coffee from the hospital's
cafeteria. Every so often, he would look up at the Watcher, who was
seated on the other side of Buffy's bed. Giles' eyes had been
trained on him the entire evening. Angel didn't like the scrutiny,
and he had nothing to say, yet there was no way around the
proximity. Neither he nor Giles was willing to leave Buffy with the
other, alone. And so they remained this way.
     The older man had recovered better than Angel would have
thought possible, given the extent of the concussion the Garou had
found him with. Grudgingly, and only to himself, Angel admitted
that the pack's methods might not have been entirely unproductive.
     Buffy was another story. Though she had been badly burned, so
had Giles, and Buffy had even her Slayer's healing abilities
working on her side. The Garou had said their faith/nature healing
wouldn't work because she had no faith left to spend on her wounds.
That was fine with Angel. He had more confidence in the Sunnydale
Hospital and their science than he did in the Garou's faith.
     Under the careful ministrations of Sunnydale's emergency team,
Buffy was recovering. Her life wasn't in danger, though Angel had
found his threatened when the doctors had realized how much time
had passed between the occurrences leading to the injuries and when
Buffy and Giles had been brought in. Angel couldn't remember the
story he had made up to appease them, only that they had bought it.
     He glanced up again, saw Giles' eyes on him, and looked back
down. It was only a matter of seconds before he shook his head. He
wasn't a coward, he wasn't going to behave as though he had done
wrong. Because he hadn't, not now. In the past, he had done all the
wrongs in the book and more...but these days, he was living as best
he knew how, trying to put the life he might have once had back
together. Failing miserably, but trying.
     So he looked up again, and this time when he met Giles' eyes,
he didn't look away. Instead, he cleared his throat, making his
voice careful, deliberate, and low. "What happened to you two?"
     Giles was the one who looked away, this time. "I was
careless," he admitted. "Something ran across the road. I lost
control of the car."
     Angel nodded slowly, waiting a few more seconds before he
spoke again. "She'll hate me, won't she."
     Giles remained silent. It was all the answer Angel needed.
     "I need to call Willow," Angel said quietly. "So she'll stop
looking." He shook his head. "You shouldn't have let her run," he
murmured, half to Giles and half to himself, as he stood and left
the room.
                                *
     "She's at the hospital," Willow breathed with a sigh of relief
as she hung up the phone and turned to look at Xander and Cordelia.
"Angel found her. She and Giles were in a car accident. They're at
the hospital and she'll be okay."
     Xander nodded, already moving toward the door.
     "Angel said we shouldn't go," Willow said quietly.
     Xander froze, looking back at her. Cordelia, too, looked
surprised.
     "He says there are things he and Buffy need to work out," she
said.
     For a few seconds, Xander just gaped at her. Then he spoke.
"You're not gonna _listen_ to him, are you?"
     Confused, Willow nodded. "I was planning to...why?"
     "Yeah," piped up Cordelia. "Why shouldn't she listen to him?"
     "Because," Xander stammered. "It's, he's..."
     "Giles is there," Willow reminded him. "And we know she's
safe, and it's late, and we were out all night last night and my
mom will kill me if we're out again tonight."
     "So what do we do, then?"
     "Wait," Willow said. "For him to call back."
     "How do you know he will?"
     Willow sighed, shook her head. "Xander," she said, "don't
_worry_. It'll be okay."
     With a shake of his head, Xander acceded. "Hope so," was his
only verbal response.
                                *
     Hanging up the phone with Willow, Angel turned to go back to
Buffy's room. It wasn't until he had reached the door and started
to open it that he heard two voices inside, speaking. One was
Giles', strong yet quiet. The other, the weaker one, was Buffy's.
     "I don't want him near me," she was saying. "Please, Giles..."
     "He cares for you, Buffy. Deeply."
     Angel was surprised at the tone of the Watcher's voice. He
hadn't realized Giles was on his side, if such a thing were to be
had, in this...this.
     "I don't care about him," Buffy said, her voice getting thick
with emotion. "Giles, keep him away. Please. I'm not ready. You
know that."
     Part of Angel wanted to leave, now. To fade into the darkness
of night like he'd always done, and seek shelter in the shadows. It
made things so much easier to exist like that, on the fringe.
Simpler, somehow, when you only had to face so much as you could
handle. The other part of him quickly brought up a point-- he
wanted Buffy to face him, and apparently she didn't think she was
ready.
     Maybe, he barely let himself think, maybe it would go better
than their conversation the night before.
     "Somebody say something about me?" he asked, pushing the door
open and stepping carefully into the room.
     Buffy was sitting up, Giles seated on the edge of her bed, and
they looked as though they had been in deep conversation. Her face,
which held an expression of pain when he pushed the door open,
smoothed over immediately. And there, Angel could see, he had
ceased to exist for her in any emotional meaning of the word. When
she looked at him, the anger was smoldering deep in her eyes, and
when Giles' gaze fell on him he could tell that the Watcher had
tried his best.
     He swallowed, looked at her. "I wanted to say I'm sorry," he
said, though that hadn't been what he had come in here for at all.
     Buffy glared. "You always are," she replied.
     "Buffy--"
     "Angel, I told you. I need some time. I haven't had enough
yet."
     "But--"
     "I'll tell you when I've finished healing," she said, her tone
sharp and her voice firm, though it was obvious enough that the
strength was a thin facade. "Until then, stay away from me."
     Angel cast a glance to Giles, but the Watcher refused to meet
his gaze. "Giles," he said quietly.
     The Watcher and his charge exchanged glances, then the older
man rose and walked to the door, which he held open as he ushered
Angel out, following him.
     The moment the door had closed behind the Watcher, Angel
spoke. "She doesn't understand, I just want to help," he insisted,
his eyes searching Giles' face for some sign that even if he wasn't
getting through to the Slayer, her Watcher might have some clue as
to how deeply he needed to be able to be there for the woman he
loved.
     "On the contrary," Giles said, taking the half-breath he
normally took only when he was saying he knew the listener would
find unsatisfactory. "She understands...quite well." He shook his
head. "But I think she may be right," he continued, before Angel
could speak. "And it might be best if you gave her time to recover
from the last year."
     His lips parted, but Angel found he had no words to offer.
What Giles had said, in his firm, British way, was that Angel had
to stop trying. That hope for reconciliation, at least at this
point in time and for a long time to come, was dead.
     A dark red began to swim in the mist that had come over
Angel's eyes as he nodded slightly, the knowledge that there was
honestly no hope for him becoming plain, rapidly. In that moment,
as his eyes and Giles' met for the briefest of seconds, it was
clear to Angel that the Watcher understood each other, perfectly.
     And that he had no other choice, now, but to listen to Buffy's
wishes and go.
                                *
     His heart trembling, Giles turned away from the hallway Angel
was walking quickly down, back to the door of Buffy's room. The
Slayer hadn't moved, he found when he opened the door. She was
still sitting there, just as he had left her, looking for all the
world as though she were going to begin crying any moment.
     His heart went out to her, even though he knew it was only
outwardly that Buffy appeared so vulnerable, so hurt. She was
stronger than any of them knew, and once the burns and sprains and
breaks from the accident healed, she would be up and about and
ready to, as she had once put it, "open a can of pink fluffy whoop-
ass on those vampire bastards". While questioning her method of
verbal expression, Giles felt completely in synch with the emotions
behind the words.
     "Is he gone?"
     He looked at her for a moment before nodding slightly. "Yes,"
he replied. Then he sighed. He had never understood Buffy's
relationship with Angel, except for the knowledge that they had
cared deeply for each other before his change, that he had hurt her
more than anything she had ever known before while he had been
evil, and that their attempts at reconciliation since his return
from Hell had been nothing but failures.
     "Good," she whispered, curling up a little, wincing in pain as
she stretched complaining muscles and bumped bruised bones.
     "Buffy..." Giles breathed, moving back to where he had been
sitting on the bed next to her, "...I told him that when you felt
you were ready to speak with him, you would do so on your own
initiative. I hope that's what you wanted." It wasn't said in a
bitter tone, or an angry one, but a genuine one. He wasn't looking
to rub anything in her face. He was looking for sincere
confirmation that what he had done was the right thing.
     Buffy nodded, slightly. "Yeah," she said softly. Another few
moments passed. "Hey," she said, looking at him. "How long were we
in the woods?"
     "It's New Year's Eve, if that's what you mean," Giles replied.
     "Good," Buffy said softly, though there was no joy in her
voice.
     Sensing there was more, Giles kept silent.
     "When I was little," Buffy said quietly, and Giles was unsure
of whether she was speaking to him, or to herself, "Mom and Dad
used to tell me that New Year's was when you got another chance."
She looked up at him, her eyes haunted and seeking something it
appeared she thought she would never find. Shelter, perhaps. "To
start over, fix what you did wrong the year before."
     "Many people feel that way," Giles replied, but he kept
himself from saying anything more.
     "I made a lot of mistakes last year," Buffy sighed. "A lot."
She shook her head. "Time to put 'em right now, though, right?" At
Giles' nod, she continued. "So, the biggest one was neglecting my
duties. As the Slayer." She shook her head. "I'm not gonna do that
this year. And the thing with Angel, that got in the way."
     Giles nodded again, realizing that this wasn't Buffy making
empty promises-- she meant what she was saying. That frightened
him, though he realized full well that she expected him to approve
wholeheartedly.
     "So this year..." She looked at him. "I know the thing with
the cabin didn't work out, but maybe if we drove in the day, would
that work?"
     Giles sighed. "Buffy--"
     "Giles, I'm trying to do my thing here, for once. You know,
the whole deal. Please don't make it any harder."
     Holding his breath for a moment, Giles finally sighed and
nodded. "I won't," he assured her, reaching out to take her hand.
"Buffy, I promise, whatever you decide to do, so long as it makes
you happy and allows you to pursue your responsibilities as the
Slayer at the same time, I will stand behind you, one hundred
percent."
     That actually got a smile out of her. Relief, however
temporary, flooded through Giles' mind, undoing the knot that had
been his stomach for a good portion of the evening.
     Sliding across the bed, Buffy reached out and picked up the
remote control for the television that was perched in the corner of
her hospital room's ceiling. She hit a few keys, just in time to
catch a report on how the ball-dropping had gone in Time's Square,
an hour earlier.
     "Wow," she said. "New Year out there already."
     Giles looked at the screen, then nodded. "It would seem so."
     She checked her watch. "Two more hours. It's only ten."
     "Again, an accurate call." He smiled at her slightly.
     "Gonna be a big year," Buffy said quietly, as though half-lost
in thought.
     "Perhaps you should get some rest?" her Watcher suggested.
     The Slayer's expression changed as she shook her head, giving
Giles the look that asked just what planet it was he came from.
"I've never missed a ball drop in my _life_," she said. "Not gonna
start _now_."
     He smiled faintly. "If you want to sleep, I would be more than
happy to wake you up prior to midnight."
     She smiled a little. "Promise?"
     Giles nodded.
     "Okay then," Buffy said with a yawn, and before Giles realized
what she was doing, the Slayer had turned around in the hospital
bed so her head was resting in his lap, her knees tucked into her
chest. Her eyes were already closed, and Giles quickly realized
that it had taken her all of two seconds to fall asleep. So here he
was, unable to move because he would wake her, and it was quite
obvious that she needed the rest.
     It wasn't as though he had anywhere else he needed to be,
however, so Giles was quite content to stay put, where he was, and
remain perfectly aware of his Slayer sleeping while he watched the
report on how the masses in Time's Square, New York City, were
busily cheering the New Year in.

~

Comments to [e-mail], please!

------------------------------

Date: Thu, 13 Aug 1998 00:39:05 EDT
From: <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Faith" -- "Part Three: The Path of Thorns" (3a/9)

Feedback: YES! Please! I eagerly await it!

See part one for all disclaimers and notes.

~

                "Part Three: The Path of Thorns"

     "Here we are, then," Giles said, closing the doorway of the
new car the Network had purchased for whatever needs he and Buffy
might have in the way of transportation. He missed his old car,
clunker though it may have been. Not even the built-in compact disc
player in the new one made up for the fact that the sports car was
more on the order of something Cordelia would purchase than
something that suited Giles' own tastes. He glanced up, watching as
Buffy walked toward the cabin. It wasn't really a cabin, he
supposed, in that it had running water and electricity. It was more
of a cottage in the woods.
     Ahead of him, Buffy was ambling slowly down the path to the
doorway, not speaking until she tried the door and it refused to
give. Then she turned back to look at him. "Do you have a key?" she
asked.
     Giles nodded. "Of course," he replied, fishing the key ring
out of his pocket, then tossing it to her when she came near enough
to catch it.
     She caught it, turned, and went back to the porch, where she
opened the door and vanished from his sight. Giles glanced back at
the road, then checked his watch. The movers should be here within
a few hours, with the furniture and suitcases. Until then, he and
Buffy had time to explore the grounds and make themselves at home.
     He followed her into the house, looking around. The paint was
new, the rugs were new; it seemed as though the whole cottage had
been refurnished for their arrival. Perfectly possible, he knew,
given that the Network was as eager as anyone else involved to see
Buffy returned to functional duty as their Slayer, their champion.
     From the top of the stairs, Buffy's head appeared. Giles felt
his heart leap when he saw the expression on her face-- a smile
that reached all the way to her eyes, one that showed genuine
emotion. Mentally thanking God that Buffy seemed to be on the road
to recovery already, even while he reminded himself of all the
other times he had thought that since the past fall, Giles moved to
join her upstairs.
     "You've gotta see this," she was saying, already moving down
the hallway as he nodded and walked behind her. She reached the
room at the end of the corridor, entered, and crossed it to the
window sill. "Out there," she said, nodding.
     Giles followed her gaze to the sight outside, and took a quick
breath as he saw the view. Truly amazing, he thought to himself.
     Outside the cottage, there was grass for perhaps twenty meters
all around, then the woods closed in around the building's grounds
on all sides but one. On the final side, there was a river with a
small, sandy beach. Giles didn't doubt that the water was safe for
swimming, even if only in the immediate vicinity. The Network would
have made sure of that.
     "When I was little," Buffy was saying, "we had this place on
the beach where we'd go on weekends. I was in like, third grade,
and it was the best time...dad would take me out on this
motorboat..."
     Giles nodded, the smile on his own face mirroring the one on
Buffy's as they stared silently out into the sunlight, the water,
and the woods.
                                *
     By nightfall, the movers had arrived. The house was now,
instead of being empty, full to the gills and then some. Giles
hadn't realized how much of his things he had kept in Sunnydale
High's Library and then in storage, nor had he understood fully
just how much Buffy was capable of keeping in the one room she had
been using at his apartment.
     After a sparse dinner consisting of pasta and salad, Buffy had
gone out to sit on the porch swing, and Giles had stayed inside to
tidy up and read. He had completely lost track of time, surprised
by how easily he had lost himself in the texts, until the clock
chimed midnight. Looking up from his research, the Watcher realized
that Buffy was still out on the front porch. A quick glance out the
window confirmed the notion, and not wanting to wake her, Giles
decided it would be easy enough to simply bring a blanket out to
ward off pneumonia or a cold, and let her spend the rest of the
night in the cool night air.
     He rifled through one of the boxes until he found the
bedclothes, then took the thick quilt Buffy had appropriated months
ago and moved toward the doorway, opening the heavy door with extra
care, hoping he wouldn't wake her.
     She was curled up on the swing, which in turn was moving back
and forth, back and forth, slowly in the night breeze that came off
the water. Her hair, pulled back in a ponytail since they had left
Sunnydale that morning, was blowing gently in her face. Her
expression was one of happy contentment. The lack of fear, the way
years of pain and fear fell from her features when she was unaware,
was startling at first. Giles had seen her sleeping, however,
enough to know that at least now, she was safe, not fearing
anything.
     He was glad she could feel that way here, so easily, and
supposed it had to do with the Network's placement of the cottage.
They tended to select psychic "blind spots" to build in, areas that
for whatever reason, be it physical features or connections with
the spirit world, were quieter in all mystical ways than the
general environment a human or Slayer would live in.
     As Giles moved to put the blanket over Buffy's sleeping form,
he heard something whisper in the trees behind him. Letting go of
the blanket, he turned and looked up to the edge of the clearing
that surrounded the house. "Someone there?" he called, keeping his
voice low, but strong.
     "One," came the response.
     Giles raised an eyebrow. The voice was neither threatening nor
commanding, but simply present. "Who?" he asked, his mind already
racing to try and determine what sort of person or thing could be
here.
     "Quirin," was the answer.
     Giles nodded slowly. "Step into the light," he said, keeping
his eyes trained on the new arrival. The mystery visitor did as
ordered, taking a step into the light that shone through the
windows of the cottage's living room. And as soon as he did, Giles
felt his breath catch in his throat.
     Garou. Flesh-eater. Hunters of the Wyrm. The bastard children
of Gaia. The words, labels he had read in book after book over the
years, blazed across Giles' mind as he took a step back toward
Buffy. It was a full second before he remembered that second only
to their objective to keep Gaia pure, the Garou were dedicated to
the eradication of the Wyrm.
     And that they had saved both himself and Buffy, only a few
weeks before.
     Putting away the prejudices that had been burned into his mind
years ago, Giles cleared his throat and offered the Garou, Quirin,
a smile which showed no teeth. Like a wolf or a large dog, the
Garou took the baring of teeth to be a challenge to their
authority, and Giles was far from prepared to challenge an aging
werewolf to a battle of supremacy.
     "She is well?" Though in human form, the Garou still displayed
the shaggy, unkempt, yet somehow dignified look common to the
eldest of it's kind. The words weren't so much as question as they
were a greeting, a way of establishing that the two had met
previously. Perhaps, Giles thought, a way of expressing that the
Quirin meant neither him nor Buffy harm.
     And yet, if he was in human form, then he must have eaten
human flesh. Recently.
     As though following Giles' thoughts from his expression, the
Garou smiled slightly, also not showing teeth, and shook his head.
"There are always deaths," he said quietly. "Embalming chemicals
are at odds with Gaia, and so we purify them."
     Grave robbing, then. Giles felt a shudder of disgust run
through him before he squelched the labeling instinct and nodded.
"Of course." After all, it was the fact that they had been in human
form when he and Buffy had needed their assistance New Year's Eve
that had kept both Watcher and Slayer from death.
     "She is well?" the Quirin asked again.
     Giles followed the Garou's glance to the Slayer, and nodded.
"Physically, at least," he replied.
     The Garou nodded, with what might have been an expression of
regret. "She hurts, inside. She has no faith to heal."
     "In all honesty," Giles said, his voice soft, "I don't think
she has the faith to do much of anything but fight, these days."
And even that, he doubted. Why he was sharing this with a Garou, he
didn't know. Somehow, it seemed that perhaps the other could
understand. Something in the way the werewolf carried himself, the
way his eyes seemed expressive and aware not only in the way of
humans, but also in the same way as dogs Giles had kept had seemed
at times. Caring, loyal. Though, Giles reminded himself, thinking
of the Garou as mere house-pets had led more than one man to his
death in the past.
     "I see," was Quirin's only response. A few seconds passed,
both Giles and the Garou looking at Buffy's sleeping form, before
the Garou spoke. "Perhaps she needs something to believe in," the
Garou offered.
     Giles smiled slightly, a sort of bitterness in the expression.
"Perhaps," he said. But what? She had already been betrayed by
friends, by life, by fate itself when it she had been called as the
Slayer. What more was there? "Believing in herself isn't something
that comes easily for her," he said.
     "In the end," the Garou said, his voice quiet, "she is all she
has to believe in."
     "No," Giles replied. "There are people, such as myself, who
wouldn't have her in pain for all the world." The sudden
recollection of the look in Angel's eyes at the hospital on New
Year's Eve rushed back at him, and Giles had to push it away. "But
even we can't keep pain from touching her."
     "Then she lives as Gaia would have it," Quirin said quietly,
"and she must learn to deal with that fact."
     Giles shook his head, brushing a lock of hair from where it
had fallen across Buffy's eyes. "You think nature could be so
cruel?" he asked.
     "Nature," the Garou told him, his voice passionless and
accepting, one which believed so fully in the words he was
speaking, "can be the cruelest force around us. She can also be the
kindest, the one that most makes us realize our strengths and the
strengths of those around us." Taking a few steps closer, Quirin
nodded to Buffy. "Gaia and the Fates work closely," he said. A
trace of approval entered his voice. "It is good that you brought
her here. To us."
     "I brought her here for her training," Giles said. "Because
the Network gave us this place."
     "It is land, how can they give that?"
     "They purchased--" Giles broke off, remembering that the Garou
acknowledged no claim of ownership on Gaia's mysteries. "I brought
her here to heal," he amended.
     Quirin nodded in what might have been approval. "Then she will
heal," he said.
     There were a few seconds of silence, then Giles nodded. "I
hope so," he said.
     "She will," Quirin repeated. Tossing a glance back over his
shoulder, the Garou shook his head. "I must leave," he said. "One
of the she-wolves brings a child into Gaia's glory, tonight." He
offered a slight smile. "You understand."
     Giles nodded.
     "Tell her she will heal," Quirin said softly, the smile that
pierced through his almost wolfish features easy to see. "Tell her
to nurture her faith."
     "I will," Giles replied. It was all he had done, all he would
do until she healed.
     With a nod of approval, the Garou turned and vanished into the
shadows.
     Giles cast a look down at his Slayer, surprised that she
hadn't so much as stirred during his conversation with Quirin.
Perhaps, he thought, it would be best if they both spent the night
inside tonight. It wasn't that he distrusted the Garou, he told
himself, though he in no way believed that assertion. It was simply
that he wanted to keep her safe. "Buffy," he said, shaking her
gently. "Buffy, wake up."
     She stirred under his hands, her eyes opening as she looked at
him. "Whuh?" she said quietly.
     "I think you'd best go inside," Giles said, offering her a
hand so she could get herself out of the porch swing. "You've
fallen asleep."
     Buffy nodded slightly, tiredly, letting him raise her up from
the swing and guide her inside, then upstairs to the room she had
picked as her own earlier in the day.
     By the time he had put the Slayer to bed, Giles realized it
was well past midnight, and so he too went to sleep.

~
(More to come)
~

Comments to [e-mail], please.

------------------------------

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