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#au where this vacation isn't a Total Mess and i'm not writing like crazy to disconnect from everything
jennycalendar · 7 years
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Imperfections (24/?)
ao3
will i stop posting these at midnight??? probably not
“Ronnie, deadbeat. Steve, klepto. Kenny…drummer.” Faith rattled off the names easily, looking at Buffy out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge her reaction. “Eventually, I just had to face up to my destiny as a loser magnet. Now it's strictly get some, get gone. You can't trust guys.”
“You can trust some guys,” said Buffy. Faith gave her a doubtful look, and Buffy added earnestly, “Really, I've read about them.”
Faith laughed. “Yeah. So, what about you?”
“You mean like, me and guys me?” There was a sudden edge to Buffy’s voice.
“Mm-hm,” said Faith carefully.
“Not much to tell these days,” said Buffy simply.
Faith kind of wanted to keep pushing, but the guarded look on Buffy’s face reminded her a lot of various tense moments with Jen and Giles. Whatever this was, it was something Buffy didn’t feel like sharing just yet, and honestly, that kind of sucked. Back when Faith had first come to Sunnydale, she’d thought that Buffy was closed-off, but now she was starting to miss even that Buffy.
“You know what?” she said. “We're oh for six tonight. Why don't we just blow this off?”
“Yeah. I am kinda beat,” Buffy agreed, then faltered. “But Shady Hill's pretty close.”
“I'll swing through it,” said Faith casually. “It's on my way anyway.”
“Alone?” Buffy replied hesitantly. “I-I don't know if I'd…”
“I’ve already got that evaluator lady on my back. I don’t need another babysitter,” said Faith, hoping that that sounded reassuring enough. “I’ll holler if I’m having any fun.”
“Okay,” said Buffy a little reluctantly.
“Later,” said Faith, still keeping her voice light and breezy as she walked towards Shady Hill.
She was a little glad to be alone. She had a lot to think about. Buffy, who was sweet strawberry-milkshake girl one minute and closed-off mystery girl the next. Mrs. Post, who seemed pretty invested in making Faith see how important it was that a Vampire Slayer couldn’t have people who put her before the world.
Except—
Buffy had that. Buffy had always had that. Buffy had a mom, and a dad, and a bunch of friends that Faith still barely ever talked to. Buffy had everything that Mrs. Post said Faith couldn’t have, and that just didn’t add up. What, was Faith supposed to be the Slayer without the life so that Buffy could slack off and have hers? If Mrs. Post really thought that Faith wasn’t in a good learning environment, she’d be trying to pull Buffy out of that situation too.
Or maybe Mrs. Post just kind of figured that Buffy was some kind of a lost cause, what with all the time she’d been living with parents and friends and all that jazz. Maybe Mrs. Post thought Faith would be easier to reach because she hadn’t been in Sunnydale as long as Buffy. The thought of being the Council’s last hope filled Faith with a strange mixture of pride, guilt, and fear. By all rights, it should be Buffy who the Council was depending on—Faith was kind of a mess.
But Mrs. Post hadn’t even paid attention to Buffy. Faith was going to have to leave this life she just found while Buffy stayed in Sunnydale, slaying vamps with friends and family. The thought of leaving Sunnydale with the knowledge that there was a relatively happy Vampire Slayer living there made Faith angry.
“God, I really hope there’s something for me to beat up when I get to Shady Hill,” she said emphatically, rounding the corner to the cemetery.
“Ah! Yes. There we are.” Rupert entered the kitchen, looking adorably rumpled from all the boxes of books he’d been sorting through, and placed an open book on the kitchen table. Jenny stepped closer to him, looking down at the page he was pointing to. “There's a wood engraving. See? The Glove of Myhnegon.”
Mrs. Post, sitting at the kitchen table, barely glanced up. “Yes, engraved by Father Theodore of Wolsham.”
“Yes,” Rupert agreed.
“Based, I believe, on very sketchy and unreliable folk legends,” said Mrs. Post matter-of-factly. “The pictures are fun to look at, Mr. Giles, but one really ought to read the nice words as well.”
Jenny, furious, was already halfway to insulting the entire Watchers’ Council when Rupert placed a hand on the small of her back. The kettle went off. “Some tea, perhaps?” he asked, a gentle warning in his voice.
“Yep. Tea.” Jenny sat down at the kitchen table, making sure to choose the chair across from Mrs. Post instead of next to her.
“I know that you must find me tiresome, but it's insidious, really,” commented Mrs. Post. Rupert stepped forward with a tea platter, setting it down on the table and pouring some hot water into the cup in front of him. Mrs. Post looked down at her own cup. “A person slips up on the little things,” she continued, taking out the teabag, “and soon everything has gone to hell in a handbasket.”
Rupert poured Jenny half a cup of tea before Jenny stopped him. “I probably need something stronger tonight,” she said, only half joking.
Mrs. Post opened her purse, taking out a small box of tea. “For example…Buffy, your Slayer.”
“Wow,” said Jenny. “You carry tea everywhere, or just when you want to make a point?”
Rupert pressed his lips together, looking thoroughly exhausted. Jenny felt a pinprick of guilt; her being sarcastic almost definitely didn’t help the evaluation, and she had a feeling that that put a lot of stress on him. She’d have to try to tone it down a little. “Mrs. Post,” Rupert said, pouring Mrs. Post some hot water, “I can assure you that Buffy is both dedicated and industrious, and I am in complete control of my Slayer.”
The doorbell rang, followed immediately by someone banging on the door. “Giles! Ms. Calendar!” Xander shouted.
“Use the key, Xander,” called Jenny, very grateful for an interruption.
They heard the sound of a key in a lock, and soon after, Xander tumbled through the door, sprinting into the kitchen and knocking into Jenny. “Sorry,” he gasped, very out of breath. “It’s just—we have a big problem. It’s Buffy.”
Mrs. Post raised an eyebrow.  
Rupert winced. “Will you excuse us?” he inquired. Without waiting for an answer, he took Jenny’s arm, tugging her out of the kitchen with him and shutting the door behind them. “What’s going on, Xander?”
Xander, who had been looking almost comically panicked, sobered. He glanced between Rupert and Jenny a few times before answering heavily, “Angel’s back.”
Jenny blinked. “Is that all?” she asked without really thinking.
Rupert gave her a look.
Xander stared. “Is that—what do you mean is that all? Did you know?”
“Wait.” Jenny frowned. “How do you know?”
“Oh no.” Xander held up a hand. “I want to hear how you know first.”
“Jenny?” Rupert turned to her, taking her hand in his.
“Uh,” Jenny tried to collect her thoughts, “well, when Pete and Buffy were fighting, I—I thought I saw Angel, but Rupert and I thought it was just nerves. I only found out that I’d really seen him when Debbie said something at Homecoming about seeing a vampire kill Pete.”
“That’s all we knew,” Rupert added. “We didn’t tell anyone but Buffy because neither of us were exactly sure what Angelus was planning, and he hadn’t actually hurt anyone.”
“He still hasn’t,” Jenny added. “The death count isn’t as high as it was when Angelus was first on the loose.”
Xander nodded slowly. “Huh,” he said. “I guess that’s some small consolation.”
“What do you mean?” said Jenny apprehensively.
“I found out Angel’s back because I saw him grabbing something from a crypt,” said Xander uncomfortably. “I followed him—”
“Xander,” said Jenny sharply.
“What? No one else was there to do anything!” Xander objected indignantly.
“You can’t just follow Angel on your own!” Jenny said, her voice higher and tenser than she’d intended. “You see something that dangerous, you call me.”
“Yeah, because you’re so accessible nowadays,” Xander muttered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jenny asked sharply.
Xander winced. “Uh. Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, I followed Angel to—”
“You can’t just say something like that and drop the subject,” persisted Jenny.
“Pardon me,” called Mrs. Post from the kitchen, “but would you like some assistance?”
“Thank you, that won’t be necessary,” Rupert called back with a feigned smile.
“Xander, being passive-aggressive is going to get you nowhere,” said Jenny pointedly.
“Look, Ms. Calendar, maybe we can talk about this when you’re not busy fussing over Faith,” snapped Xander.
There was an abrupt, uncomfortable silence.
“Perhaps I should go make some more tea,” said Rupert nervously. Jenny grabbed his arm, holding him in place.
Xander seemed to realize what he’d said, but he didn’t take it back. “I’m glad that Faith’s so important to you,” he continued awkwardly. “I mean—I know she needs it. But Willow and I barely ever see you, and when we do, you’re always researching with Giles or teaching your class. Willow almost skipped school last week because she was so sad about you ignoring her that she wasn’t sure if she could even pull off going to class, and it was me that talked her out of it. Not you.”
Jenny thought about all the times she’d tried to make it clear over the summer that she’d be there for Willow, and how it must have then felt for Willow when Faith showed up out of the blue. “God,” she said quietly. “I guess I’m not as good at balancing things as I thought.”
Xander shrugged. “Guess you’re not,” he said coolly.
“I’m going to talk to her as soon as this evaluation is over,” Jenny said with conviction.
“You got anything to say to me?” Xander asked, challenging.
Jenny bit her lip. “I—”
“Anyway,” said Xander shortly. “Putting aside our own unresolved issues for a little while, we need to talk about Angel and Buffy.”
Rupert started. “Angel…and Buffy?”
Xander shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Like I was saying. I followed Angel to that mansion where…” He trailed off, but Jenny saw his eyes dart quickly to her crooked fingers. “Acathla,” he said. “And I got there, and Angel and Buffy were kissing.”
Jenny thought back to Buffy’s tense expression in the library, back when she and Rupert had told Buffy about the possibility of Angelus’s return. She felt vaguely sick. “She knew,” she said.
Rupert had the same look of realization. “When I came in after Pete’s death,” he murmured, “I mentioned Jenny seeing Angel, and Buffy looked almost guilty. I never thought—I assumed that guilt was due to Jenny being hurt.”
“Yeah, well, it looks like it wasn’t,” said Xander bitterly. “I think we need to talk to Buffy.”
“All of us,” Rupert agreed.
“Not Faith,” said Jenny suddenly.
Xander pressed his lips together, very clearly biting back an angry retort, then looked up. “Why not Faith?”
Jenny sighed. She honestly hadn’t considered that focusing on Faith would have this big of an effect on Xander and Willow, and she felt horrible for not even bothering to think about it. “She cares a lot about Buffy,” she said finally. “It’s going to really hurt her to find out that Buffy’s kept this from her. I think she should talk to Buffy one-on-one.”
“Buffy didn’t tell us about Angel,” said Xander. “Why does Faith get the special treatment?”
“Because—” Jenny faltered. It took her a moment to find a genuine reason. “Because if Faith finds out any other way, there’s a chance she might run off and try to kill Angel. I don’t want that happening.”
“I don’t count that as all that much of a loss.” Xander’s expression was hard and angry. “He hurt you and Giles and the first thing he does when he comes back is make out with Buffy, not try and make things right with the rest of us. Seems like killing him is long overdue.”
“I won’t have anyone I love die trying to kill Angel,” said Jenny fiercely, stepping away from Rupert. “And that includes you, Xander.”
Something in Xander seemed to falter. He dropped his eyes to the ground. “I wasn’t sure about that one,” he said to his feet.
Jenny breathed out. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Her voice broke. “You and Willow were so good to me over the summer. I got so wrapped up in taking care of Faith that I never once checked in on how that might affect you.”
“I get that Faith doesn’t have parents,” said Xander quietly, still not looking up, “but I’d swap the parents I’ve got for having no parents any day.”
Rupert cleared his throat. “I’m going to check in on Mrs. Post,” he said uncomfortably.
Jenny grabbed Rupert’s arm again before he could leave. She really needed to talk to him about his attempts to avoid emotional situations. “We are a family,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Not just a bunch of people thrown together fighting evil.” This part was kind of directed at Rupert too, because she wasn’t sure if he always understood that. “And Xander—you’re going to stay over here one day of every week.”
Xander did look up at that. “What?”
“What?” Rupert echoed, looking more than a bit perturbed.
“Once a week, you come and stay here,” said Jenny. “I’ll clear off some of the boxes and you can sleep on the couch.”
“What if I don’t want to do that?” Xander challenged her.
“Yes, what if he doesn’t?” Rupert added.
Jenny elbowed Rupert, gave him a shut up look, and said to Xander, “I want to fix things. This seems like a way to start. If I turn out to be wrong, you can tell me, but at least try spending one night over here. Rupert makes good pasta, and you and Faith can get to know each other a little better.”
“And you’re not asking Willow to do this?” said Xander doubtfully. “Seems like this kind of thing would be something that’d make her way happier than me.”
“Willow doesn’t have parents like yours,” Jenny replied simply, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Suddenly she felt a little like running; emotions were kind of scary, and parenting (did this count as parenting?) was even scarier. “I can find her a different kind of space.”
She saw the change in Xander’s expression—it was a subtle thing, but his eyes didn’t look so hard and angry. “Fine,” he said. “How’s Friday?”
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