Summary: Buffy deals with some of the issues she
has with her father.
Spoilers: Written after WAH.
Disclaimer: Joss.
Rating: PG
Feedback: It's a perfect yum.
by: Amy
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Hi Pumpkin," Hank Summers said brightly when his daughter picked up.
Buffy faltered. "D- Dad? Why are you calling?" A thousand catastrophes
raced through her mind. "What happened? Is something wrong?"
He laughed. "No, nothing's wrong. Why do I need a reason to call my baby?"
She stiffened. "I don't know. Maybe because we haven't had a conversation
where you weren't canceling something in over a year." She licked her lips.
"So what's going on?"
"Maybe that's the reason," he said softly. "Listen, Buffy, I wanted to come
up to Sunnydale and visit you for a while. I'm going to be in town
anyway..."
"On business?" she asked crisply. "That's real nice of you to take time out
of your schedule. But I don't know if I can. I've been really busy with
college and all..."
His mind held onto that, looking for something to say to his daughter that
wouldn't bring recriminations of past neglect. "So, how are classes? Are
things going well? I remember when I was in college, I joined a fraternity.
That's actually how I met your mom."
"I thought Mom said it was at a dance," Buffy sighed, sitting down on her
bed.
"It was. A Homecoming dance. I wouldn't have gone, except my frat brothers
had set me up with this girl, who happened to be a sister in the house it
was
hosted in," he explained. "But thank goodness I did, huh, kiddo?"
"Yeah, thank goodness," she echoed hollowly. "So when are you going to be
in
town?"
"Tomorrow."
Buffy bit her lip, an ache welling up in her chest. "Well, you know,
tomorrow's not that good a day for me, Dad. I'm sort of busy with...
studying, and my best friend is sort of going through a tough time, so I'm
not really too comfortable with leaving her alone too much."
"Of course not," Hank said warmly. "That's one of the things I love best
about you. You're so loyal, so good to your friends. And, anyway, I'm going
to be in town for a whole week. Maybe we could have lunch everyday or
something. And you can invite your friend."
"Willow," Buffy told him. "And... I guess that would be okay. As long as
it
didn't interfere with any of my classes."
"Right," he said firmly. "Classes are important. Well, I'm going to go.
I'll... Why don't I pick you up in your dorm tomorrow morning? Around
eleven?"
"I have a class. Professor Walsh. She's really hard on people who miss her
class when there hasn't been a life-and-death situation," Buffy muttered.
"Oh, right. Okay. What time does your last class get over?"
"About one, actually," she replied honestly, then wanted to bite her tongue
off for revealing so much. She sighed. "I don't have any afternoon classes.
It's Friday. So I guess... Well, I'll be here waiting at one-thirty, if you
want to show up."
His voice softened. "I'll show up, Buffy. I promise."
"Okay. Bye, Dad."
"Bye, honey. I love.."
Buffy hung up the phone, not wanting to hear the rest of his words, the words
that stung so badly once she knew that he never meant them as much as she
did. If he meant them, nothing would be this awkward between them. A
father and daughter shouldn't have to wrack their minds to find something
to
say to each other. It should be comfortable, easy.... Full of private jokes
and smiles and hugs. Kind of like what she had with Giles, except without
the hugging thing.
Buffy stared into space, wondering what tomorrow would bring.
* * * * * *
Joyce ran inside, letting her keys clatter on the table in the hall. She
ran
to get the phone before the machine picked up. Snatching it in her palm,
she
lifted it to her ear. "Hello?" she asked breathlessly.
"Joyce." Hank's voice was warm. "How are you? Did I catch you at a bad
time?"
She smiled to herself. "No. I just walked in. Very busy day at the
gallery. What's going on, Hank? Is something wrong?"
His voice tightened. "Why do you both think that when I'm calling,
something's wrong?"
"You've talked to Buffy," Joyce stated coolly. "And, what did you say to
her?"
"Joycie, she's my daughter too. I'm not going to say something to upset her
if I can prevent it," he said, an edge of anger to his voice. "You should
know that more than anyone, more than even she does."
"I thought I did, Hank," she said wearily. "But the last few times you've
called, it's been to cancel something with Buffy, and I'm the one who has
to
see her pretending not to be upset about it. I'm in the thick of it, while
you go on oblivious, doing whatever it is that's so important that it keeps
you away from her. And it's not my fault that she's finally realized that
you're not the glowing dream of a father that she's always thought you were.
I didn't break you out of that mold. You did."
She sucked in her breath, trying to calm down.
He was silent for a moment, taken aback. "You're right. I haven't been a
great father. But I'm in town tomorrow, and I wanted to spend the week with
her. Maybe make up for some lost time?"
"A week doesn't make up for three years of neglect," she whispered. Then
she
sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. What are you
doing in town?"
"I have a client who just moved there," he explained. "And I'm meeting him
at his house a couple of nights this week so that we can try to get his case
settled out of court."
"So really, you're just in town on business, and having Buffy be here is
a
side pleasure?" Joyce asked warningly.
Hank let out a long, drawn out breath. "No. To tell the truth, Joyce, I
called because I wanted to know what was going on with her lately," he
confessed quietly. "She seemed so distant on the phone, not that I blame
her... But I could have just as easily had my client drive to LA to meet
me
in my office. I wanted to see Buffy, though, so I'm coming."
Joyce let herself smile, just a little. "Well, I have to say that I'm okay
with your reasons for coming, though I was going to have to give you a
tongue-lashing if you were really just coming for business."
"A tongue-lashing?" he said with a grin. "Like the old days, right Joycie?"
Joyce laughed. "Don't get fresh with me. It would have been the kind you
wouldn't have enjoyed. Now, what did you want to ask me again?"
"What has Buffy been up to? Is she making good grades in school?" He paused.
"Does she really have a friend, Willow, I think, who's going through
something hard, or was she just trying to avoid me?"
Joyce sat down, running her hand through her hair. "Buffy's been up to...
a
lot. And yes, one of the strictest professors has been giving her high marks
for good work and ingenuity," she said, answering his questions in order.
"And Willow is going through a very hard time, at least from what I can get
Buffy to tell me about it. But you know, I'm her mother, not her best
friend. I had a hard enough time getting her to confide in me that she's
a..."
"She's a...?" he prompted.
Joyce laughed. "That she's working hard. That sort of thing."
"Well, Joyce, thank you. Maybe we could have coffee sometime this week?"
he
offered.
"Sure. That'd be nice," she answered automatically, noticing the closing
words to the conversation. "I'll see you soon. Goodbye, Hank."
"Goodbye."
When she heard the click, Joyce set down the phone and leaned back on the
couch. She exhaled slowly, wondering what would happen in the morning.
* * * * * *
"Buffy!" Giles slowly pulled his hand away from his chest where he had
raised it in shock and took off his coat, glancing down at the girl curled
comfortably on his sofa. Setting his coat aside, he approached her. "It's
very late, Buffy. Is something wrong?"
"Yeah," she said idly, staring at the drink in her hand. Her voice sounded
tired, numb. "My dad's coming to town."
Giles sat down next to her, studying her face carefully. "And you think
something could be wrong with him?"
"I *know* something's wrong with him," she corrected stiffly. "And that's
me. He hasn't cared enough to come see me in over a year. The last time I
saw him was..." Buffy closed her eyes thoughtfully, tilting her head. "About
six months before my eighteenth birthday. He's canceled everything since.
I
don't want to see him."
"Well, perhaps you're..."
"I mean," she interrupted suddenly, "It's not like he deserves it, right?
If
someone's gonna be a dad, they should be a dad all the time. Like you."
"Except that I'm not really..."
"Yeah, like you," she repeated firmly. "You know how many things you've done
for me, Giles? When I needed you, you were there... You gave up things for
me. You made me special in your life. That night, after... Angel... You
said that you weren't disappointed in me. Advice. That's a pretty dadly
thing to do."
His brow furrowed. "Dadly?" he tried to ask, but she rambled on.
"So what's the harm in telling him that I have my own life?" she questioned.
"It's not like he'd *really* be *that* hurt, in the long run. He wouldn't
have such an expensive phone bill, calling to cancel all the time, 'n that
sort of thing."
Giles gently took the glass from her hand. "Buffy, what's in this?"
"Coke," she said calmly, unfazed by the question, still staring at the
wall.
He nodded; it looked like such. But then why...?
"And rum," Buffy finished, yawning. "I think. I found it in your...
whatdoyacallit. Liquor cabinet. Maybe not rum. Maybe something else.
Doesn't taste too bad."
Giles sighed. "Buffy, I would have hoped that with your previous experiences
with alcohol, you might have learned...."
"See?" She stared at him; her eyes were bright and meaningful. "You even
lecture like a dad. Which is okay with me, I think. You're pretty cool for
a dad, you know all my secrets, and you like me most of the time."
He smiled down at her affectionately as she yawned again. "I seem to like
you all of the time, Buffy. Whether or not I wish to. Does Willow know
you're here?"
She leaned against the side of the couch, tucking her knees under her arms.
"Nope. Prolly not. She thinks I'm... doing the slay thing. Slay time."
She giggled. "Jingle bells, Batman smells, Buffy slays a vamp..."
Giles smirked, standing, and set the drink out of her reach. "I think you've
had quite enough now, all right?" He laid an afghan over her and walked over
to the phone to call Willow.
Buffy watched him through sleepy eyes and nodded to an imaginary tune. When
she was finally still and silent, he took one last long look at her, and
then
headed upstairs to bed.
* * * * * *
Buffy patted her knees nervously. Not only was she still recovering from
a
hangover, she was having a hard time dealing with the fact that her father
was actually coming down to see her, a still harder time accepting the fact
that it was more anticipation to see him than anger over his not being
around. She rushed to the mirror for the fourth time in ten minutes,
checking out her reflection.
She brushed her hair back with her palms, and then practiced a couple of
smiles; harsh, accepting, sweet, little-girlish... Finally she settled on
what she hoped would look natural, though it was really more stretched across
her face in a tight line. After a moment, Buffy sighed, and then closed her
eyes, recalling the note that Giles had left for her to read when she woke
up.
"Buffy," it had read, "Please make yourself comfortable... And I do mean
with
everything that's happening to you right now. I hope that your lunch with
your father goes splendidly today. Lock up when you leave. Fondly, Giles."
It was a comfort-- not a comfort of the biggest kind, but a comfort
nonetheless, and Buffy figured that she could use any sort that was handed
to
her right then. The note simply proved what she had been talking about the
previous night in a drunken haze; that Giles cared about her, possibly more
than anyone could... "Dadly," she muttered, then nodded to herself. "It
could be a word."
A knock on the door made her start, and then sudden trembles wracked her
body. Buffy breathed in deeply, and then exhaled, feeling her heart slow
and
calm, feeling her head clear away the confusion. She smiled at her
reflection once more, and then rushed to the door, not wanting to keep him
waiting. Even the annoyance that she wasn't more annoyed was gone; Buffy
just wanted to be a little girl, jumping into her daddy's arms, and feeling
him hug her close and tight like he used to.
She thrust the door open, a grin bubbling over her face.
But it wasn't her father.
Instead, a delivery man carrying a bouquet of two-dozen white and pink roses
stood before her with a smile. He handed her a clipboard. "Sign please."
She took it automatically, scrawling her name on the dotted line, her mouth
going dry. He couldn't have. He had promised. He had told her that he
would be there no matter what. She *knew* he would come.
Her lower lip began to tremble.
Delusions just weren't what they used to be.
Taking the flowers from the delivery guy, she closed the door softly, and
looked at them. There was a card attached, and she opened it swiftly,
praying that she was wrong but knowing deep down that she wasn't.
It was her father's handwriting.
"Buffy-- I know that this came at the worst possible time, right when I had
sworn to be there with you. But there's an emergency at the office that I
need to take care of. I hope you understand. All my love, Daddy," she read
aloud, hollowly.
Then she sent the vase to the floor violently, uncaring of the small shards
of glass that sank into her calves when it broke, not noticing the water
seeping into the carpet and splashing against her ankles. She crumpled the
card in her fist, and then threw it down into the garbage can, not wanting
any sort of reminder.
Buffy closed her eyes and held back a sniffle. With her eyes still closed,
she navigated herself to her bed and then fell on it, curling up into a
little ball. She buried her face in the pillow so she wouldn't have to see
or smell the broken flowers lying, crushed, on the floor.
And when she couldn't see them any longer-- couldn't be choked by their
perfume-- she finally allowed herself to weep.
* * * * * * * * *
When the phone rang, Giles jumped for it eagerly, glad that his mind wouldn't
have any more time to deteriorate from watching Days Of Our Lives. He hoped
desperately that it was Buffy or Willow, needing him to do something, on
the
precipice of some great and very dark power. Something that would need some
research. With books.
He snatched up the receiver, and half-yelled into it, "Hello?"
"Rupert," Joyce greeted angrily.
"Joyce..." He was confused. Had he done something to offend her? "Is
something the matter?"
"Yes," she grated. "The bastard didn't show up for his date with Buffy.
Emergency, he claims. Emergency so big that he can't have one of the *other*
five thousand partners in that firm take over."
Giles's face fell. "Buffy's father didn't come?"
"He didn't even call her," Joyce replied furiously. "I just got a message
from him on my machine, asking for me to apologize and smooth it over with
her."
"I'm so sorry," Giles said softly, his forehead creasing in concern over
his
Slayer. "How is Buffy taking this?"
"I don't know." Her voice got low, and he suddenly understood that she was
holding back tears-- of anger or just sadness for her daughter, Giles
couldn't tell, but he supposed that it didn't matter either way. "She's not
answering her phone. I was hoping... Well, I was hoping that you could stop
by and talk to her, see if she's all right."
"Pardon?" He wasn't sure if he had heard her right. "Don't you want to be
the one to...?"
"I would," she told him wearily. "I want to. But I think that maybe, on
this occasion, Buffy needs someone who's a little more... Dadly."
His mouth dropped open, but he recovered quickly and nodded, though she
couldn't see him. "Yes, of course. I understand. Thank you for thinking of
me."
"It's not that big of a deduction," she informed him. "You've sort of held
that role in her life for three years... I don't see why we should stop with
it now. Let's keep the ball rolling, shall we?"
Giles smiled gently. "Yes. All right. Thank you, Joyce. I'm on my way."
"Rupert?"
He hesitated. "Mm?"
"Would you tell her that it'll be okay? Tell her that I said it'll be okay,"
Joyce said shakily.
"Of course," he consented softly. "I'm leaving now."
* * * * * * * * *
He knocked softly, not waiting for her to answer before he let himself in.
Buffy looked up at him with large, imploring eyes from her place under the
covers before she covered her head again with her blankets. "Please go
away."
Giles could hear the tears in her voice. "No," he told her gently. "I don't
think that's what you need right now."
A long silence formed, and Giles took off his coat and gloves before sitting
down on the edge of her bed. He put his hand on one of her trembling
shoulders, rubbing it soothingly, and he could hear her sniffle.
Finally, her puffy, sad eyes peeked out again. Her voice was small. "I keep
thinking that if I don't open up... But I can't seem to help it," she
confessed. "It's like, they want me to keep getting my heart broken. Maybe
that's another duty of the Slayer."
"They?"
"You know," she mumbled, her eyes downcast, "God. The Powers That Be.
Whoever it is, they want me to keep feeling like this. It's like, when
anything good happens in my life, I have to pay for it, pay for losing it
and
pay for having it in the first place. A really bad sort of layaway."
Giles pulled the blanket down the rest of her face, and tucked it around
her
shoulders so that he could see her expression. He sighed. Buffy looked very
sad, and very lost... Impossibly hurt. "Maybe you're being prepared," he
suggested quietly. "Maybe, with every heartbreak, you become stronger for
something that's ahead of you, something that will take every ounce of your
will and love and hope to deal with."
"Did you just come here to warn me about something?" she asked miserably.
"Because that's what it's sounding like."
He smiled sadly, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "No. Your mother called
me. Apparently, your father called her to let her know that he was..."
"Not coming," she finished. "Yeah. ...You know, the funniest thing about
it
is that I always think to myself that I'm going to *stay* tough, *stay*
strong when he calls. When he calls to cancel. I hope he just doesn't call
anymore. I didn't think it would be so hard to deal with his no-show. And
then, earlier this afternoon, I realized that I actually *thought* he was
coming. He sounded so sincere, that I didn't think it would hurt anything
to
put away the doubt for one day."
Giles took her hand, held it.
"But it didn't work. Because I believed him, everything that I had hoped
wouldn't fail me, did. My resolve not to cry, for one." Buffy graced him
with a little smile. "Thank you for coming."
"Where else would I be?" he offered, a smile touching his lips too. Her hand
weakly squeezed his, and Giles stroked her hair back again, hoping that he
was helping-- even if in the smallest way.
Someone knocked on the door, and then stuck their head in. Hank Summer's
looked at his daughter in concern. "Buffy?"
Buffy's eyes swept from Giles, and then to her father. She scrambled out
of
bed, launched herself into his arms. He held her tightly, kissing the top
of
her hair.
"Daddy!" She tried to cover the sound of her tears and laughed gladly. "You
were just late? It was all a mix-up? And here I was, thinking that..."
"No, I can't stay," he said softly, still holding her close.
Buffy froze in his arms. "What do you mean?" she whispered.
"I can't stay. I needed to come to tell you... how sorry I am, sweetie. You
know that I love you, and I truly am sorry," he murmured, kissing her hair
again. "I need to go back, in a few minutes, actually, but I wanted to let
you know how horribly I feel at having to cancel, especially when I gave
my
word."
"You're leaving," Buffy stated, slowly extracting herself from his arms.
Her
chuckle was bitter this time, sarcastic. "Of course. Why didn't I know?"
"Buffy..." Hank tried, but she turned away, walking back to her bed and
sitting down on it with her back to him.
"Go away," she said in a hard voice. "And call me when you've either quit
and gotten a different job, or realized that it's my wedding day or something
and you want to be there." She paused. "But you won't be the one walking
me
down the aisle, if that's quite all right with you."
Hank stared at Buffy for a moment longer, and then his eyes locked on Giles,
who was watching inconspicuously. His face darkened sadly, and he nodded.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
Giles watched him go.
When he had disappeared from the doorway, Giles touched her shoulder gently.
She flinched a bit, and then relaxed under his palm, her cold expression
melting at his concern. "You'll never not be there for me, will you,
Giles?"
He smiled, knowing that now wasn't the right time to talk to her on forgiving
her father. "Never," he agreed.
Buffy took his hand off her shoulder and held it, staring down at it for
a
moment. "This falls under 'stuff I'm not supposed to say,' but I love you
for that," she whispered with a wobbling smile. "For a lot of stuff, but
that's one of the best things. The fact that you'll always be there for me,
that you'll never leave."
They grew silent, each knowing that their words weren't entirely true--
knowing that one day, they would be apart, even if death had to come to bring
their separation. But it didn't matter, for the most part. The little lie
wasn't important. What was important was Giles's hand in Buffy's hand, and
the comfortable silence that they could always fall into together. The sins
of Buffy's father didn't matter either. Buffy would figure out later that
they could be understood, for whatever reasons he was feeding himself.
So Giles didn't say a word about the small untruth, and Buffy was grateful.
Instead he just let her hold his hand, let her eyes trace the paths of his
palm, let her mind wander to wherever it was going.
Sometimes lies like that were needed.
The End