39. Tell It Like It Is
Just as Giles was picking up the
phone to call
Willow, it rang under his hand, and he jumped, muttering a soft,
"Bloody hell!" under his breath.
The disconcerting conversation he had just had with Buffy had left him
unusually jumpy and unsettled. The violence that Buffy had described
was very troubling to him, and he knew that they had to find a
solution, and quickly – before someone got hurt. But it was going to be
very difficult to find a solution when they really had so little
understanding of what the problem was.
It was difficult for him to comprehend how Buffy could feel as if she
was being controlled by some force other than herself, and still feel
at the same time that the violent actions she had committed were truly
her own. He could not seem to reconcile the two ideas in his mind. He
hoped very much that Willow's input as to just exactly what spell she
had used and how she had used it might shed some light on the entire
situation.
And then, there was the other troubling issue to the whole situation,
the one thing that he had been trying very hard not to think about
since this whole matter had come to light the night before – the fact
that his Slayer was eternally, irrevocably bound by a mating claim to
an evil, soulless vampire, who currently had nothing but that claim
standing between him and his next killing spree.
Buffy's dominance through the claim would keep Spike under control, and
her reasonably safe, the Watcher reassured himself, as she could easily
put a stop to any attempts the vampire might make to harm her, or
anyone else.
Unless of course he caught her off guard – or asleep – or somehow
managed to get around her commands and surprise her, not giving her
time to stop him.
An uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Giles wished, not for the
first time, that Xander's first suggestion, of freeing Buffy from the
claim by simply dusting the blonde vampire, was possible. Spike was no
longer completely helpless, the way he saw it – so that was not an
issue anymore; and he did not see why Buffy should have to spend the
rest of her life looking after the vampire and keeping him in line.
The problem with that idea was, again, the claim itself. After
witnessing the way Buffy had turned on Xander the night before, the
Watcher was certain that there was no way Buffy would allow any of them
to harm Spike; she was fiercely protective of the vampire, and it did
not seem to matter to her who she hurt in the process of defending him.
He had momentarily considered the possibility of staking the vampire
*now*, while Buffy was chained up and unable to defend him. It was
quite possible that, if all of what Buffy was experiencing was due to
the claim, if the vampire was simply dusted, its effects would be
broken and she would return to normal. He could just unchain her and
she could go back to her life as usual, with the added bonus of being
rid of the bleached blonde annoyance that had invaded his home and all
of their lives for the past few weeks.
It was also quite possible that the Slayer would lose her mind
completely with grief over the loss of her eternal mate – and they
would *never* get Buffy back.
No, Giles had decided with some regret. It was best to simply research
the situation thoroughly, to find out just what exactly the problem was
before attempting to solve it – which was why he *really* needed to
speak with Willow as soon as possible.
With clear annoyance at the delay, that he absently noted was probably
not good for business, he spoke curtly into the phone, "Thank you for
calling the Magic Box. How may I assist you?"
"Mr. Giles?" a woman's voice asked sweetly – perhaps a little *too*
sweetly.
He was surprised to recognize the voice of Buffy's mother on the phone
– and then, suddenly very nervous, as he realized with a sinking
feeling in his stomach, just why she would be calling him.
"Mrs. Summers!" His greeting was forcedly cheerful, as he attempted to
maintain a façade of innocence. "How delightful to..."
"Mr. Giles," she interrupted him with a note of impatience in her now
coolly polite voice. He heard her take a breath to speak – and then
pause, before going on thoughtfully, "How can I say this nicely?" After
a moment's consideration she concluded, "I *can't*. This is not a
conversation you can have 'nicely'."
After her calmly pensive out-loud musing, it took him by surprise when
she snapped, "Cut the crap."
Startled, the Watcher flinched slightly, glad that the woman was not
actually there to see it. After all, although she had a reason and a
right to be upset, it would not do to let her see that she had shaken
him. "Excuse me, Mrs. Summers, but I don't believe..."
"Excuse *me*, Mr. Giles," she interrupted emphatically, a note of
warning to her voice that refused to be ignored. "But *I* believe I was
talking!"
Taken aback by her unexpected forcefulness, Giles was silent for a
beat. Dreading what she would say, but having little choice, he finally
replied, "Quite right, so sorry – go right ahead."
"I want to know what you did to my daughter."
Giles felt his stomach drop at the low, threatening sound to her voice,
as he was reminded first of how dangerous a mother could be when her
child was threatened, and secondly of the fact that not *all* of
Buffy's fire came from the fact that she was the Slayer.
*It's just Joyce Summers – she's angry, but not truly dangerous,* he
reminded himself. *I've just got to attempt to calm her...*
"Mrs. Summers, I am truly very sorry, but I assure you that Buffy is in
no immediate danger. And as we speak, I am doing everything in my power
to uncover the source of these – episodes – she's having, and..."
"So what you're saying is you don't have a clue." Her voice was cold
and hard as stone.
*Just Joyce – no need for alarm – just explain to her...*
"I'm – not quite sure yet..."
"Well, you'd better *get* sure and right away!" Joyce interrupted him
again in a tone of quiet, barely controlled righteous fury. "Because it
sounds to *me* like what you've done is to send my baby to perform a
dangerous ritual which you didn't even fully understand the
requirements of – a ritual which could have ended with the complete
loss of her free will, by the way – don't think I missed that part! And
all to control a vampire who can't bite – can't even hit – and was at
the time your *prisoner* in chains!"
"Mrs. Summers..."
"I'm *not* finished!" she snarled, and he cringed in spite of himself,
glancing around the shop at his thankfully oblivious customers, certain
that they had to be able to hear her.
But they could not. Though the anger was unmistakable in her tone, she
was not actually yelling. Her voice was still low and controlled –
which only made her all the more terrifying, as she went on.
"And in the process, you put my daughter in a position to allow
*something* -- you still don't know what, because you don't seem to
know much of *anything* useful, do you? – to take her over and endanger
my entire family, and not only that but to *abuse* someone who can't
even begin to defend himself, and in front of my fourteen-year-old
daughter, by the way..."
"I'm extremely sorry that Dawn had to witness what Buffy did to Spike..."
"You should be extremely sorry that it even *happened* to Spike!" Joyce
raised her voice slightly then, a warning sound to it that indicated
that, if possible, his last words had made her even angrier than
before.
"You think it doesn't matter if she hurts Spike, because he's not
human? At the moment, I think he has more humanity in him than you seem
to! How can you possibly justify something like this, taking a helpless
creature and deliberately attempting to turn him into a virtual slave?
How can you even begin to think that that's *okay*? And you're the man
that my daughter turns to for *guidance*?"
"Mrs. Summers, you must understand – he's a very *dangerous* creature!"
Giles interrupted, a bit incensed himself by her accusations. "That
chip controlled him – but the moment it went down, without this claim
in place, he would have been free to..."
"The chip only *went* down because of what you did!" Joyce snapped.
"And the only thing I see that needs controlling around here is your
over-inflated sense of self-importance and your unbelievable ego! That
you could think that you could do something like this – just manipulate
circumstances and people to suit your own desires and ideas of how
things should be..."
"He's not *people*!" Giles nearly shouted without meaning to,
frustrated beyond measure. "He's a bloody *vampire*!"
Joyce was stunned to silence for a moment by the audacity of his words
– long enough for the Watcher to realize his careless mistake, as
several customers stopped what they were doing to look at him with
alarmed, disbelieving expressions.
"Giles!" Anya called much too loudly from behind the counter, her words
obviously for the benefit of the customers. "That's not nice! Umpires
are people too!" Immediately she turned to Xander, who had come to help
for a little while and was standing beside her behind the counter,
explaining in a loud whisper, but fortunately not loud enough to be
heard by the customers across the room, "I said that so that they'd
think he said 'umpire' when what he really said was 'vampire'. You told
me you did that once, and it worked."
"Good girl, Anya," Xander said patiently but distractedly, glancing
around to make sure no one had overheard her, and seeing with relief
that the customers were going on about their shopping again. Either
they had believed her – or had just shrugged it off as one of the many
daily weirdnesses of life in Sunnydale.
Anya was so pleased at his rare words of approval that it took her a
few moments to realize that he had just spoken to her as if she were a
puppy.
Meanwhile, Joyce was speaking to Giles as if he were – well, something
infinitely more repulsive and less deserving of cuddles than a puppy.
His comment about Spike not being a person had infuriated her to her
breaking point.
"Obviously you don't know anything that can help my daughter or Spike
right now," she stated in a low voice of intense anger, barely
restrained. "So I'll tell you what, *Mr.* Giles...you go do your research
or whatever it is you do that makes Buffy so convinced that she needs
you..." Her derisive tone said clearly that she thought otherwise. "and
you better find a way to get my Buffy back! I had to work today, or
this conversation would be taking place in person..."
*Thank heavens she had to work today!*
"...but I'm off work tomorrow, Mr. Giles," she went on in a frighteningly
pleasant voice; he could almost see her menacing smile. "...and I *will*
be in your store, and I *will* expect some answers..."
*Who does she think she is?* Giles thought with indignation born of
genuine fear. *Like she'd ever actually do anything to...*
"...and I don't care if you think Spike matters or not. If Buffy hurts
him again before you manage to undo the massive amounts of damage your
ignorance and arrogance has caused, I'm going to take Spike and hide
him away somewhere safe, and when that *thing* that you allowed to gets
its claws into my daughter comes looking for him – I'll tell her *you*
know where he is!"
*Dear God.*
Giles was sure his heart skipped a beat at that chilling threat. Okay –
so maybe Joyce *could* actually hurt him, after all.
"Mrs. Summers," he said in an uncharacteristically timid voice that
broke over her name in a decidedly unmanly fashion. "I can assure you
that won't be necessary. I'm going to find the source of the problem..."
"I believe I've found the source of the problem, Mr. Giles," Joyce cut
him off again relentlessly in a scathing tone of disgust. "You just
find the solution. By tomorrow. Goodbye."
And the line went dead.
With a shaking hand, muttering British curses under his breath, Giles
replaced the receiver for just a moment. He drew a deep breath to
steady himself, his hand resting on the phone, before picking it up
again to dial Willow's number.
They had to find the answer tonight – before Hurricane Joyce struck the
next morning.
It was just past three o'clock as Willow turned the key in the door of
the dorm room she shared with Buffy, just returning after her last
class for the day. As she struggled against a load of books and school
supplies to unlock the door, she heard the phone begin to ring inside.
Her heart leapt up into her throat, and she hurried to get the door
open, dumping the books unceremoniously on the floor beside the desk
and snatching up the phone.
"Hello?" she said breathlessly.
There was a moment's hesitation, before she heard Giles' voice.
"Willow? Are you all right?"
Her heart sank with disappointment – disappointment that she should not
have allowed herself, she thought with self-directed anger. She should
know by now that it wouldn't be...
"I – I was just running. To get the phone. Because, you know – it could
have been..."
*Oz.*
"...important. You know, Hellmouthy badness."
"Oh – well, yes...yes, it is, actually, Willow...of the variety we were
discussing last night..."
As the Watcher began to explain what Buffy had told him, Willow felt a
cold sensation of dread come over her, as her mind went back to the
spell she had performed a few nights ago to disable Spike's chip.
She had wondered when Spike's chip had not turned back on, if perhaps
the spell was at the bottom of the entire situation – but had been too
afraid and embarrassed to speak up about it then, reassuring herself
mentally that that could not be the case – she had done everything
exactly as the book told her to.
Well – with just a tiny bit of tweaking.
*But – it was just to be sure that Buffy would win!* she thought,
desperately defending herself in her mind, as Giles told her about his
and Buffy's rising doubts about the spell.
"I'm sure I did it right, Giles," she said in a small, trembling voice,
feeling guilt wash over her at the almost-lie.
Okay, *total* lie.
"I'm sure you did, too, Willow, but spells are tricky things. There may
be something that you missed when selecting the spell – something that
allowed something other than what was intended to occur. Just – please
bring the book with the spell in it and come to the Magic Box as soon
as possible. I'm very sure that Buffy must be getting very tired of
being in chains, and it would be most preferable if we could fix this
and she could sleep in her own bed tonight."
"Okay," Willow agreed quietly, swallowing back a sick feeling that rose
in her throat as she hung up the phone.
How had things gone so wrong? she wondered. And then – how could she
wonder? she thought darkly. Things *always* went wrong here. This was
Sunnydale, the Hellmouth – the natural habitat of "things going wrong".
Best friends rejected you for annoying snobs and ho-bag skanks –
parents tried to burn you at the stake...
Werewolf-boyfriends left you for werewolf-sluts...
All part of Sunnydale's natural charm.
As she gathered up the books, a bitter resentment began to set into her
mind. If something had gone wrong, it was not *her* fault. It had gone
wrong because -- *hello*! – things always went wrong here! As she made
her way across the campus and toward the Magic Box, she tried to
determine just how much to tell the Watcher and her friends.
After all – she had only been trying to help.