This fic and the parts of it that will follow use quite a few story ideas and lines of dialogue from episodes the last half of the final season. Hell, I ripped them off in total so I’d like to take this chance to thank the writers for their fabulous work, though I won’t be able to name them here, their contribution to this work cannot be underappreciated. This fic is a reworking of season seven to my liking. You may not like it all, hell I don’t like it all, but trust me, I’m going somewhere with this and I hope it’s somewhere where we’d all want to be. Thanks.
“You know this is very dangerous?!”
Buffy, sitting a cluttered desk in front of a small mirror, putting an earring in her ear. “I used to hear the horror stories. Wear hoops, they’ll catch on something, rip your lobe off. Lobes flying everywhere . . .”
Giles seemed quietly exasperated. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“You mean Spike not having a chip. Free range Spike.”
“I have to ask. Wh . . . W-Why on earth did you make that decision?”
“I guess it was instinct,” said Buffy distractedly. “Like you were talking about.”
“For Christ’s sake . . . I made that up. I knew the Bringer was there because his . . . shoes squeaked. Buffy, it’s crucial to keep these girls safe. I-I can’t count the dangers. The First. The Bringers. Random demons. And now Spike . . .”
“And the Principal.”
“What?”
“Oh nothing much. He was in the school basement, holding a shovel, acting kind of evasive. Plus, he’s got that whole too charming to be real thing going on. I’m looking into it.”
“Oh, that sounds very responsible of you. Balances out our vampire on the loose issue.”
Buffy stood and started walking across the room toward her bed. “Nothing’s changed, Giles. Spike had a chip before, remember . . . when the First had him kill and Sire all those people.”
“We have no idea if his chip was working then. A new chip might act to restrain him should the First attempt to activate him again.
“Spike has a soul now,” responded Buffy, growing steadily more assertive in the face of her former mentor’s intransigence. “That’s what’s going to stop him from hurting people.”
“Buffy . . .”
“He can be a good man, Giles. I feel it. But he’s never going to get there if we don’t give him the chance.”
Giles approached her slowly, deliberately. Cautiously sympathetic. “Buffy, I want more for you. Your feelings for him are coloring your judgement. I can hear it in your voice. And that way lies a future filled with pain. I don’t want that for you.”
“We haven’t . . . Things have been different since he came back.”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re not . . . physical with each-other anymore. There’s a connection. You rely on him. He relies on you. That’s what’s affecting your judgement.”
“You think I’m losing sight of the big picture . . . but I’m not. When Spike had that chip it was like . . . having him in a muzzle. It was wrong. You can’t beat evil by doing evil. I know that.” Making that her last words as she left the room.
“Well I hope you’re right,” Giles said, intent on having the last word. “You’re gambling with a lot of lives.”
“I do that every day!”
“Dawn!”
Xander and Willow watched as Buffy paced back and forth in the kitchen like an animal, hungry and impatient for prey.
“DAWN!” she yelled up the stairs. “For Christ’s sake, where is she?”
Buffy threw her hands up in the air, exasperated. “I can’t believe this. We’re gonna be late for school. She’s gonna make me late for school. And by the way, I’m in my twenties now. Do I ever get to stop saying that.”
“Calm down, Buff,” suggested Xander. “Sit down, take a load off. In all my years I’ve learned that there isn’t a problem out there that can’t be solved by waffles.”
“Yeah,” said Willow, joining in, “and there’s even funny shaped plastic bottles full of sugary goodness.”
Buffy took the bottle of maple syrup from Willow turning it over in her hands and looking at it. “I don’t know. Aunt Jemima. I just always thought there was something vaguely creepy about eating something that you pour out of someone else’s head.”
“I’m not so sure about that either,” said Willow, taking the woman shaped maple syrup bottle back as Xander dug into his plate of waffles. “Valid point, I guess. I do have to say though that some things that you can get out of women taste better than others.”
Xander choked on his waffle.
The door to the basement opened and a bleary looking Spike emerged. He opened the fridge and came out with a quart sized deli container labeled ‘blood’. They always remembered to put a label on it now after Chloe, one of the potentials, had taken it upon herself to get a glass of juice late one night and had been discovered by Willow a few moments later rinsing her mouth out and spitting it back in the sink. “Spike!” said Buffy awkwardly. “I . . . I thought you were sleeping.”
“Was. Couldn’t exactly keep up the pretense with all the noise n’ all.”
Buffy lowered her eyes. “Sorry.”
He brushed her off with a gesture. “No worries. If it wasn’t you it’d be some of the bird herd.” He filled a mug with blood and put it in the microwave. “Soul or no soul some days I’m tempted to wipe the floor with the whole lot of ‘em if only it’d mean one bloody blessed moment of silence.”
Buffy smiled. “Some days I’m almost tempted to let you.”
”Sorry. I’m here. I’m here,” said Dawn as she came down the stairs. “You know, it’s getting out of hand around here. No, wait, it’s passed out of hand a dozen girls ago.”
“Shut up and eat your breakfast,” snapped Buffy kindly. “Quickly. Xander’s already here. We’re gonna be late.”
“It’s not my fault Chloe, Molly and Rona were hogging up sink space in the bathroom. They don’t even have to go to school! Come on, Buffy, this is ridiculous. One bathroom with all these girls. That’s cruel and unusual punishment.. Even mistreated prisoners in Guantanamo get more than one bathroom.”
“Unfortunately, Dawnie,” said Buffy, “. . . or fortunately as the case may be . . . you’re not a terrorist. You’re the my sister. You know the riff, ‘Into each generation a slayer is born, and she’ll fight the forces of darkness, and she’ll have a sister and that sister will be destined to share a bathroom.’ Think about it, you’re fulfilling prophecy, kiddo.”
“You sure there isn’t a prophecy where surly, sink-hogging Potential wannabes hang out in the back yard with the hose instead.” Dawn grinned. “They can make it part of their training. Spike, you’re with me on this right?”
Spike raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey. No problem here.”
Buffy smiled and shook her head. “I’ll think about it.”
“And just remember Dawn,” said Xander with surprising diplomacy as he, Buffy and Dawn walked out the front door a few minutes later, “there are other alternatives.”
“Like what . . . ?”
“Well, I am taking you two to school . . . Gym class! . . . Communal showers!”
“Uurrk! Don’t remind me.”
“Oh, come on! It can’t be that bad. I mean I spent most of my teenage years fantasizing about what went on in there. Don’t ruin a good fantasy.”
Buffy narrowed her eyes at him threateningly. “Xander . . . my little sister . . . a house full of potential weapons to use on you. Ixnay on the teenage shower room fantasies. Or do I need to paint a more graphic word picture.”
“Sorry, I just can’t get the taste of Kennedy out of my head.”
Dawn scrunched her face. “Taste of Kennedy . . . what the . . . ?”
“Xander!”
“Um, Spike, it’s light out . . . You’re a vampire . . .Why aren’t you on fire?”
“I’m fine, Chloe.” Spike smiled kindly at the young Potential beside him. Took a long drag off his cigarette. “This time of day, sun’s in the right place, most of Buffy’s back yard is in the shade. Don’t worry . . . indirect sunlight only.”
“Well, you haven’t exactly tried to kill me yet. I just don’t want you to . . . you know . . . go all poof.” Chloe made a wide gesture with her hands.
“Thanks a bunch.” Spike shook his head. “I think.” They sat there together quietly, the vampire and the young girl on the porch step beside him. Finally he looked back at the house. “What’s takin’ the others so bloody long. We are on a schedule here.”
Chloe glanced back over her shoulder at the house. “Something about priority bathroom time. I didn’t quite understand.”
Spike stood up and tossed away his butt. “Well, we might as well get started.”
Chloe frowned. “You mean me n’ you?” She gestured at herself and Spike.
“You see any other tasty morsels standin’ ‘round here?”
“No.” She watched as Spike backed up a little into the bright shadows of the back yard. “Wait . . . did you just refer to me as food?”
Spike smirked. “Possibly. You do look like a tasty bit if I do say so myself.”
Chloe’s expression sharpened. “That’s it!”
She came at Spike all out. Spike almost casually brushed her aside. She rolled across the grass and got back up, grinning widely.
“A fight is about control,” Spike told her. “You’ve got a certain . . . enthusiasm. But enthusiasm on its own doesn’t mean anything.” The vampire and the young girl circled each-other. “Don’t just think about the hit. The punch you’ll throw. The kick you hope to land. It’s not just about the moves, luv. Think about where you’ll be when you make that hit.”
Chloe threw a series of punches, which Spike easily blocked, followed by a hard arcing punch at his head, which he ducked beneath.
“It’s about balance,” Spike said, and pushed her over. “See, luv, you overextended. You didn’t think of what would happen if you missed and you left yourself open. You lost your center, and because of that it’s all over. Whatever else you do, you have to keep your balance. If you always try to follow through all the way, try for that one decisive punch or kick that will settle the engagement you will lose. Even if you’re the Slayer you’ll rarely win a fight with brute force alone. You don’t win a fight by beating each-other until one of you can’t stand anymore. It’s balance, that’s all . . . yours and his. It’s about searching for a moment, that one moment where he’s off balance and you’re not.
“Otherwise, you’re nothin’ but lunch . . .”
“Answer me, Kennedy! Why did you lose?”
Kennedy rolled her shoulder, checking to see if anything was broken. She glared at Spike. “I don’t know, maybe because you’re stronger than I am!”
“It’s not about strength.” Spike smirked. “Well, not completely. Buffy’s faced a whole bunch of baddies that were stronger than her, be it Adam or Glory, and she’s always come out on top. Look at me. I’m just as strong as Buffy is, and yet when we’ve fought she’s always managed to beat me. Why? Because she’s bloody patient. ‘Cause she knows how to fight. ‘Cause she knows how to reach out and grab those opportunities in front of her and run with them . . .
“Rona, you’re up.”
Molly groaned as she took Spike’s hand and he helped her to her feet. She pierced Spike with a sharp glare. “You know, you could pull your punches a little bit!”
“I thought I was.” Spike smirked at her in the way many of the girls were coming to hate. “Anyway, how else do you expect to learn.” He looked over the rest of the girls. “Vi!” Made a come hither gesture with his hand.
The girl nervously stepped out of line and approached him slowly. They traded a few tentative punches. She seemed almost content to block what Spike threw at her and let him come to her.
“That’s it,” Spike murmured to himself. “Wait for your moment.”
Stealth isn’t just about secrecy. It’s about choosing your moments. It’s about waiting for that moment when you can do what you want to do and be able to get away with it. Buffy liked Principal Wood. She really did. He’d given her a job, a job she actually enjoyed. He’d given her a some semblance of a normal life outside of all of the slaying and preternatural drama. But certain things over the past few weeks just didn’t seem to add up.
There were questions she had that didn’t seem to have any easy answers.
So when Wood seemed to have disappeared for awhile around midday Buffy took what the moment offered. She took a few steps away from her desk. She looked around nervously, trying not to look nervous. She slipped into Principal Wood’s office and took a second to softly close the door behind her.
She’d told Giles that she meant to check out Principal Wood but standing here she seemed to realize how difficult that would be. She didn’t know what she was looking for, if there even was anything. And if there was something she didn’t even know if she’d recognize it if she saw it. And some secrets aren’t so easily found. Some of the worst secrets people had were held close to the heart for fear of revealing too much.
Buffy flipped through the pile of files on the desk really not expecting to find anything. Her eyes drifted across the office. “Now if I was a sign of being evil where would I . . .” obviously her eye fell on the large free-hanging cabinet on the wall behind the desk, “ . . . be.”
Walking around the desk, Buffy studied the large cabinet as she approached. Raised one hand to open it.
Her heart spiked as someone came in through the door behind her.
“Buffy!”
Turning toward the man standing in the open door of the office Buffy felt fear suddenly take hold of her heart. Not fear of anything he could possibly do her in the moment, but fear for what it meant. Fear that this moment had cost her this job. Fear that in all of a moment everything good that she’d built in her life had suddenly come tumbling down. She suddenly felt the aimlessness that had characterized her life all of last year raise it’s ugly head. Where would she go from here? Where do you go when your life suddenly hits rock bottom? And there were no answers, just a sense of loss, desperation and loneliness. She suddenly felt like crying.
“Ah . . . Principal Wood.”
“You looking for something?”
She felt the tears welling up behind her eyes.
“File folders . . . and mechanical pencils . . . I want to write on the file folders with a mechanical pencil.”
Wood gestured. “The supply cabinet in the outer office has those things.”
“Oh . . . this isn’t a supply cabinet?” she wondered. “My bad. Okay thanks!” Buffy tried to walk around Wood and out of the office.
“Hey . . . uh, Buffy . . .”
Buffy stopped. Escape wouldn’t come that easily. “Yeah?”
“Um, what are you doing tonight?”
She suddenly felt like the world had turned upside down. What? She didn’t know how to respond to that. “Pre . . . Preparing for tomorrow’s counciling session.”
“No . . . really.”
Buffy smiled unsurely. “Watching a reality show about a millionaire.”
“Well then. I’d, um, I’d like to take you out to dinner if that’s alright with you. I mean you don’t have to. I’m certainly not saying come to dinner if you enjoy having a job.” Laugh. “You know I may have to make up a little document that says I didn’t just say that and have you sign it.”
“Sure. I’d be happy to have dinner with you.”
“Great. I’ll, um, draw up the paperwork.”
Buffy finally left and he closed the door behind her. When she was gone he removed something from his pocket. Something wrapped in white cloth. He unwrapped it, revealing a dagger. The blade and parts of the cloth it was wrapped in were wet with blood.
Wood walked over and swung open the two doors on the cabinet on the back wall of his office. Weapons covered the entirety of it inside, hanging in an eclectic display. Each one seemed to shine with it’s own light, the surfaces polished to a bright sheen. They were obviously well cared for.
Wood quickly wiped the blood off the dagger with the cloth and hung it on the wall with the others.
“So he asked you out to dinner?” asked Willow as she sorted clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket on the couch.
Buffy smiled. “Yeah. Isn’t that weird? He’s a Principal. He’s a young, hot Principal with earrings but he’s a Principal. Why do you think he asked me out? He c-could be interested, right?”
“Yeah. Sure. You’re a frisky vixen.”
“Or it could be work related,” Buffy rationalized. “Maybe I’m getting promoted for doing such a good job.”
Willow laughed out loud for a moment before suddenly turning apologetic at the look on Buffy’s face. “Oh. Right. That makes sense too.”
“Or maybe he knows that I suspect he’s up to something and he’s taking me out to kill me.”
“Well, you’ll have to dress for the ambiguity.”
“You know, it’s not even that he’s acting that suspicious. It’s just . . . There he is, on the Hellmouth, all day, every day. That’s got to be like being showered with evil. Only, from underneath.”
“Not really a shower.”
“A bidet,” said Buffy, the words like a revelation. “Like a bidet of evil.”
“Buff, if he’s really interested, are you . . . interested back.”
That remark earned a reluctant, embarrassed smile. “I don’t know. He’s good looking. And, he . . . He’s solid. He’s smart. He’s normal. So not the wicked energy. Which is nice, ‘cause I don’t want to be only attracted to the wicked energy. Or . . . or what if he is wicked in which case is that why I’m attracted to him?”
“I’m gonna wait for that sentence to come around again before I jump on.”
“You know what, yeah, I . . . I think I like him. And it’ll be good for me.
“Right. Help you move on.”
“Why does everybody in this house think I’m still in love with Spike?”
“No . . . I meant move on from this imposed super-self-reliance. Let somebody get close.”
Softly, “Oh!”
Buffy and Willow both started as the front door opened and then slammed closed as Xander came storming in. Without pause he came up to them and started to rant. “You know what . . .”
“Buffy has a date!” Willow blurted out.
“I was going to go with ‘Life sucks!’ but I guess that works too.” Xander shrugged off his coat and threw it on the couch. He stood over the two girls and started to pace back and forth. “I was out today. I saw a girl. Nice looking. I mean Britney Spears, music superstar nice looking. She has a kayak so I guess she’s a big fan of the water sports. So I did what any self-respecting single guy would do in that situation, I started talking her up. What do you think of the weather. How ‘bout them Raiders. Rope is good for it’s entertainment value . . .”
Willow suddenly made a face. Buffy just looked at him like he was crazy.
Xander finally just collapsed back on the couch beside Willow. “Was it always this hard? I mean, I’m a cool guy, aren’t I?! High school was over a long time ago. I almost got married last year for Christ’s sake. How is it that I still don’t know how to talk to a girl?”
Willow wavered for a moment. “I think the Anya-speak kinda spoiled you for a while. And just for future reference talk of rope and kinky sex is a little premature when you’re first trying to ask a girl out.”
“I don’t know,” said Buffy teasingly. “It kinda turns me on.”
Willow hit her with a pillow from the couch and turned back to Xander.
Xander rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know if I can do this. Three years with Anya and it’s like I’ve forgot how. I don’t even know if it want to.”
“Well, if Anya’s not interested it’s not like there’s much of a choice.”
“Yeah,” said Xander tiredly. “It’s either that or be alone. So, Buff” he said brightening, as if his bad mood had suddenly disappeared. “Willow says you have a date. You’re moving on. No longer taking up space beside me among the ranks of the dateless wonders.”
Buffy smiled. “If it makes you feel better it’s Principal Wood and I think he’s aligned with the First.”
“Also like ten years older than you, right.”
Willow smiled brightly. “Which is like a hundred years younger than your type.”
“Yea . . . Somebody who doesn’t remember the Industrial Revolution.”
“I think they’re gonna end up making out . . . ‘Principal Wood,’ she’ll gasp. ‘I love your lack of wicked energy.’”
Buffy tossed some laundry at her. “Watch it . . .Or I’m gonna make you talk about your new girlfriend, who you hold hands with under the dinner table and think we don’t notice.”
Willow’s teasing abruptly stopped.
The front door crashed open again. A few moments later in came Giles and an Asian girl, their arms filled with shopping bags. Giles dropped his on the floor just inside the front door.
“Dear lord, I hate that mall. The shop attendants are rude and everything on the food court is . . . sticky.”
Willow said, “Looks like you found her some stuff.”
Giles looked up and saw Buffy, Xander and Willow over by the couch. “Oh, hello . . . Yes!”
“It’s gotta be rough,” remarked Xander, “getting pulled out of your home, being told you’re a potential slayer. Not being able to bring anything.”
“And the language barrier is . . . formidable! I was concerned that my Mandarin is a little thin, but as it turns out she speaks Cantonese, which is . . . thinner. But we muddle through, and as I suspect, ice-cream is a universal language.”
Seeming awkward in room full of people who couldn’t easily understand her, the potential slayer spoke.
Buffy smiled widely before looking over at Giles. “What did she say?”
“She’s, um, grateful to be in the land of plenty.” He spoke slowly to the potential, using what seemed to be meaningless gestures. “Lets . . . go . . . and put away . . . your new clothes.” He gestured upstairs.
The potential gave him a thumbs up. She and Giles each picked up some of the shopping bags and left the room.
Buffy frowned, “Somehow I seriously doubt that’s what she said.” She turned back to her friends. “Hey, Will, do you think you can do a computer check on Principal Wood. See if you can find anything out.”
“Yeah . . . sure.”
Xander frowned at them. “Come on, Buff. Live in the moment. Why go looking for trouble. If it’s gonna find you, it’s gonna find you.”
"Getting the most out of your new microwave,” Andrew read aloud. “Hmm, nice.” He turned a page. “Clock, comma, setting the . . . page three.”
“You don’t need a manual. It’s intuitive,” said Jonathan. He gestured at the microwave. “There’s a button marked ‘clock set’ for pity’s sake. What kind of nerd are you? No wonder you crashed your jet-pack.”
“Oh,” Andrew looked across the kitchen at Jonathan, fear growing behind his eyes. He began to back away toward the counter and picked up a cross that he suddenly saw laying there. He held the cross out in front of him like a shield. “Get thee behind me. I refute thee . . . take that the . . First!”
Jonathan shook his head and approached him. “Look you monkey,” he raised his hand, moving it back and forth so the fingers passed through the cross. “Ooo . . . ahh . . . it burns as it ineffectually passes through me. I’m not corporeal remember . . . also not a vampire so . . . ” He smiled at the feebleness and impotence of it. “. . . the cross.”
Andrew put the cross down. “What do you want from me, Jonathan-slash-the First.”
“I have an assignment for you.”
Andrew put up a brave front. “Um, I follow Buffy’s orders now. I’m redeeming myself for . . . killing you. I mean . . . for . . . killing Jonathan.”
“Really! Why, so you can earn a spot on her little pep-squad? You think she’ll ever let you in. You’re a murderer.”
“Confidentially, a lot of her people are murderers . . . ah, Anya and Willow and Spike.”
“Interesting, and you’re the only one she makes seek redemption. Does that seem fair to you?”
Andrew looked away for a moment. “I guess not.”
“You know we’re heading for a fight don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“What do you think the world’s going
to be like after that,” the First asked him. “News flash, there’s not going to be a slayer gang anymore, but there is going to be evil, and as long as there is evil I live, and as long as I live you can dwell at my side.”
“Sounds nice,” Andrew admitted.
“Your assignment won’t be hard. They’re just little girls.”
“You want me to hurt the girls.”
“No, not all of them . . . not Dawn . . . not Anya . . . not Willow . . . and not your friend Buffy. Just the Potential Slayers.”
“That’s . . . That’s horrible. I’m gonna scream and . . . and get Buffy in here.”
“She can’t see me,” Jonathan said quickly. “I’ll still be here and I’ll keep talking until you hear what I have to say. Listen up, okay. The girls must die . . .”
“I . . . I could never do that. All those girls . . . all that blood. I didn’t like the stabbing before.”
“You don’t have to stab them. This’ll be easy. Andrew, I want you to think . . . Willow brought something into this house . . . Something good . . . Something you can use.”
Andrew gestured. “The new microwave?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “The gun! I want you to think hard. Where did they put the gun.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m not sure if it’s a date.” Buffy admitted. “It wasn’t exactly clear. That’s why I chose a top that says, you know, I’m comfortable in a stodgy office or a swinging casual setting, or killing you, you know, if you’re a demon.”
“It also says I sometimes get blood on my shoulder . . . or it might be pizza.” Anya stopped rubbing at the stain and handed the shirt back. “I don’t think I can fix it.”
“Thanks for trying.”
“It’s good that you’re dating. Get back on the horse and all that.”
“Yeah,” replied Buffy. “Horses and saddles and all that. Why don’t you . . . date, I mean.”
“I should. I will. It’s just . . . after Xander, most guys are just . . . blah!”
Buffy replied emotionlessly. “I know what you mean.”
“I meet other guys and I think I miss Xander’s arms or Xander was funnier or Xander probably has a bigger . . .”
“Okay!” Buffy said a little too loudly and hoping Anya didn’t finish what she expected to here her say. “New topic.”
“He ruined me for other men!” Anya sighed. “I miss Xander.”
“Sorry.” Buffy said hopelessly. “Anyway, I thought you were all angry at him.”
“My feelings are intense . . . but changeable. And I really miss his . . .”
Buffy turned away. “I should really go and find something else to wear.”
“Fine, go . . . Leave me here to stew in my infinite rage.”
Buffy stopped and turned back to her.
Anya turned suddenly coy and gestured toward the door. “I’m also gonna pee, so you should probably go.”
Buffy walked out of the bathroom, closing the door behind her, and ran straight into Spike in the hall. There was a long awkward moment when neither of them knew what to do or say. They just stood there awkwardly.
“You look nice,” Spike said finally.
“Oh, ah, thanks!” Buffy looked down at the camisole that she was wearing. She suddenly felt like she was standing there naked in front of him. Then again he had always made her feel that way. “Um . . . traditionally one wears something over this.”
“Heard you got a date!”
Buffy felt something go through her. Something that made her want to crawl back inside her skin and die. “Ah . . . Well, it’s . . . unclear. Well, it’s . . . I had this whole thing about a promotion . . . or he’s evil.”
“Buffy, I’m alright.”
She felt like crying. “You don’t have to be . . .”
“What? Be noble. I’m not. Really I’m alright.” “You think I still dream of a crypt for two with a white picket fence? My eyes are clear.”
“Good,” Buffy said numbly. “I’m glad.” She fought the tears in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“I never much cared for picket fences anyway. Bloody dangerous.”
“You should try this, too. The going out thing, I mean. There’s that girl that you brought to Anya and Xander’s not-a-wedding.”
“Oh, yeah, right. There’s always girls that like the look. Bad boy, ya’ know, does it for some of them.”
“Yeah, I can . . . see that.” Buffy looked away from him, and gestured down the hall. “I should go. Don’t wanna be late.”
Spike stood there long after she left. For once not a single one of the emotions he was feeling was visible on his face.