OUT OF YOUR EYES
Laura Smith
Giles watched her walk up to her front door, his eyes straining to see any movement in the shadows. She ducked inside and flashed the porch light to let him know she was okay.
Okay. He laughed bitterly. She was probably anything but. He drove home, his mind on the evening that had just ended far too abruptly.
Perhaps this was a sign. Signs and portents were his stock in trade. And it was about time he started heeding them. This was for the best.
*****
Willow collapsed on her bed, burying her face in her pillow. She'd experienced the feeling of her world shattering once, when she'd seen Xander and Cordelia kissing. Previous experience didn't lessen the hurt.
Her whole body had been alive - singing - floating, when she'd first seen the photo. The rush of…horror? Regret? Remorse? that had overcome her when she'd realized… She stopped thinking.
Jenny…
The black skirt had swirled around her legs in the slight breeze. She'd stood alone, still uncomfortable with Xander. She'd bowed her head, offering up a gypsy blessing Giles had shown her, and an apology that no one had been there to save her.
She'd know the exact moment the picture had been taken. She'd looked over at Giles, wishing he would allow someone to comfort him. The flash had gone off and everyone had glared at the photographer.
The tombstone read "Jennifer Calendar" because Giles had wanted everyone in town to be able to visit her grave. None of her clan had come forward, so he'd taken the responsibility. In Willow's mind, in all their minds, they ignored the cement marker and said goodbye to Janna.
Willow slid off the bed and curled up in the corner, trying to get away from her memories. She'd betrayed her friend, her mentor. She'd let her own emotions and desires overwhelm her, and she'd let Jenny Calendar down.
*****
Giles finally closed his eyes as sleep overtook him. He'd railed against it for hours now, preferring to torture himself with memories of Willow's horrified face. Only that kept him from getting in his car, heedless of what people might say, and forcing her to talk to him.
He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to dream. He didn't want…
"Hey England."
He looked around the grand ballroom, mystified. The voice brought his attention to the woman in his arms. "M…My…Jenny."
"Well, that went about like I expected. I would think the watcher would be more prepared for what comes when you dream."
"You look lovely." She did. In keeping with the ballroom and the waltz they were dancing to, she was dressed in a dark blue gown that emphasized her beautiful figure.
"Thanks." She smiled and tightened her hold on his hand. "You don't look so bad yourself. A little overdressed, maybe."
The music swelled until it became the cacophonous roar of a football game. He no longer held her; instead he was seated next to her in the bleachers.
"Overdressed?" He looked down. He still was wearing a tux befitting the previous setting. "I don't…"
"Understand. I know. But you're about to do something stupid Rupert, and I just can't let that happen."
"I would imagine you're too late. I've already done something quite stupid."
"I'm sorry I never loved you Rupert. Physically. I did love you emotionally. And I think, had Angelus given us our chance, you would have loved me too. Maybe I could have got Willow out of your eyes."
His head snapped around. "Willow?"
"Do you think I couldn't see?" She took his hand and stared out to the phantom game. "I knew you had feelings for her. For all of them. But she reminded you of yourself. And of me. Only she was far safer than I was. She was too young, too innocent. You were safe with her."
He stood up angrily. "Are you saying my feelings for Willow are based solely on the fact that they wouldn't come to fruition?"
Jenny didn't respond verbally. She smiled and shook her head. "You think I'm here to berate you for your choice of women? I was * one * of your women."
The football game faded away and they were back in the ballroom. "Why are you here? I lost a piece of myself when you died. I can't give up anymore."
Her dark eyes seemed to glow. "She loves you. Don't pressure her. Don't do anything stupid like pushing her away. She'll come to you when she's ready. Love is a precious thing, Rupert."
"I know. You taught me that."
Her hand reached out to stroke his cheek. "I have to go."
"I miss you."
"I miss you too, England."
He stood still as her essence blended into the crowd around them. He was alone now in a room full of ghosts. Ghosts of his past and of the lost innocence he'd help perpetuate in the lives of his slayer and her friends swirled around him in their own dance. They came closer and closer until suddenly they were upon him…
Giles awoke with a start. He took a shuddering breath and swallowed hard. Reaching for the glass of scotch he'd chastised himself for pouring earlier, he drank the amber fluid in one gulp.
"Heathen."
* Oh God. * He slipped his glasses back on and stared at the woman in front of him.
"Isn't that what you said? Anyone who would drink scotch like that was a heathen?"
"You're dead. I found you. I saw you. I buried you."
"That you did."
"I'm still dreaming."
"I admit, I'm confused about the dreaming. You took a nubile, beautiful girl to your bed tonight, for the second time in a week and you're dreaming about dead loves and slayers. What does that say about you?"
"Oh good. You taunt me. I really don't get enough taunting, especially from the dead. Usually it's the undead that taunt."
"Xander's sarcasm is rubbing off on you." She leaned forward and took his hands. "Rupert, if you love her…and I think you truly do, you should do everything to keep her. Tell me. Tell me you love her."
"Why? Would that give you peace? Isn't it enough that I loved you? That I still love you?" He sobbed, surprising himself. He hadn't cried in so long. "Can't it be enough?"
"Do you love her, England? Is she worth it?"
He sighed as tears ran down his face. "Yes. God, yes."
Janna smiled. "Good." She stood and walked to the door. "And Rupert? Yes. You've given me peace."
A smile settled on Giles' feature, softening them. But it didn't stop the tears he cried in his sleep.
*****
Willow awoke slowly, stretching her cramped body bit by bit. She was cold and her arms were numb. She stood and made her way into the bathroom, horrified by the person looking back from the mirror. Dark circles under her eyes, tear tracks staining her cheeks. She'd never wanted a shower more.
As the hot water beat down on her, she thought about the previous night. She'd over-reacted. That was an understatement. Poor Giles…
Shutting off the water, she got out of the stall and dried herself quickly. She was dressed and out the door in minutes, setting a new personal record. She walked past the school and, not seeing his car, kept going to his apartment.
Knocking softly, she tried the handle. When it turned, a rush of fear went through her. He lay on the couch, not moving. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, her mind whispering a small, fervent prayer.
"Giles?"
He stirred, a soft moan escaping his lips. Relief washed over her and she went to his side. "Giles?"
Coming awake, he opened his eyes. "Willow?"
"Yeah."
"What are you…?"
"I'm sorry."
"For?"
"For last night. I behaved badly."
"I'm sorry?"
"I reacted badly. I felt guilty. I've…I've felt this way about you for a long time. I guess I felt like I was betraying a memory. And seeing that picture…"
"Willow," he sat up and gathered her into his embrace. "You haven't betrayed anyone."
They both started at Oz's voice coming from the doorway, "I don't know. I'm thinking she may have betrayed me."
Next: Ever Again