XVII
At last the car was packed. There were nine boxes which needed to go to the post office. And though Mrs. Peavey had offered to take them, Giles hadn't wanted her to have to manhandle so many heavy parcels. He did, however, give her the box for Burkridge, telling her to call him and have him pick it up from her. The less he had to do with the senior watcher the better, as far as he was concerned.
Buffy had been wonderful all morning. Once Fletchers had left she'd scrubbed the bathroom, stripped the beds, took out the garbage, and ran the leftover food to Mrs. Peavey, while he bundled the boxes into the car. Shortly after 11:30, they took the last of their belongings, including Bertie, who was wrapped in plastic and safely stowed in Buffy's suitcase, and Buffy went to the car while Giles made one final pass through the house.
It was strange seeing it like this, so...uninhabited. The small house was still crammed with things, but it felt very empty. Dead. It was no longer a home; now it was just a house.
One final pass through the bedroom where he found one of Buffy's barrettes on the nightstand and a sock under the bed. He smiled affectionately as he slipped the items into his pocket. He supposed if she were to discover anything else missing, he could always contact Mrs. Peavey and ask her to look for it. He moved to the window and closed the shutters, leaving the room in dimness.
In the kitchen he made sure the coal fire was banked and dying. He hadn't filled the chamber this morning, pleasantly surprised to discover he still remembered how long coal would last. Everything else was picked up and put away.
He gazed out the window at the stable. He knew it was empty, filled only with his memories, bitter and sweet. He wouldn't miss the stable as long as he had those.
The kitchen window was shuttered like the bedroom.
Upstairs, his narrow bed stood bare, except for a folded duvet at its foot. He wouldn't miss the bed, either, but at the realization that he was leaving forever the cradle of so many childhood memories, his throat closed and he blinked the emotions away.
Beyond that, the room was devoid of any personal artifacts, had been for many years. He quickly went downstairs again.
A quick pass through the rest of the house determined that they had everything they needed or wanted. In every room, he pulled the shutters, securing the house until Fletchers should come and catalog it some two weeks hence, and until the sale next month wherein all of these possessions would belong to somebody else. He didn't feel any sadness about that; they hadn't ever really been his.
At the door, he looked back into the small cottage, now dimmed and closed. It had been his childhood home. But that was gone now. With a sigh he locked the door one final time and headed to the car.
"You okay?" Buffy asked softly.
He hadn't even noticed the moisture in his eyes. But she must have.
"Yes, I'll be fine," he said and started the car, heading down the drive for the last time. They dropped the key at Mrs. Peavey's, posted the boxes, and a little after noon, were on the road back toward London.
"Thanks for letting me come," Buffy said.
"Thank you for coming. I don't think I could have managed without you." He glanced at her. Her expression said she wasn't quite convinced of his statement, but she appreciated it anyway.
She sighed, settling back in her seat, gazing out the window.
"You know," she began after several minutes of silence, "this is the most time we've ever spent together. At one time, I mean. I wasn't sure if we could do it. You know, it's one thing seeing someone for a few hours every day, but it's another being with them constantly. I figured by the time we left we'd be ready to kill each other. But we're really pretty compatible."
"Well, these were exceptional circumstances, but yes, I suppose we are."
"Which is cool," she grinned. "So when my mom finally finds out about my slayage and kicks me out, I can come live with you."
"Your mother won't kick you out," he countered.
"I dunno. I get the feeling she will Not Be Pleased."
"No doubt. That's why it's so important not to tell her. But I can't imagine she'd kick you out. She loves you too much. No, my fear is the opposite, that she'll try and take you away."
"She couldn't do that."
"She most certainly could, Buffy, while you're a minor, living in her house. And there would be nothing I could do about it."
"I could. I'd run away."
"Oh, that's a good solution. Until you get caught. Be rather difficult to slay vampires from juvenile detention, don't you think?"
"You could always break me out," she said confidently.
"And get myself arrested for abduction."
"Boy, you're Mr. Cheery here," she scowled.
"I'm sorry, but these are issues we have to face. Unlike days past when a slayer was given to a watcher as his ward, usually with her parents' permission, the situation today is vastly different. Not only do we need to be cautious with your mother, we need to be careful with the general public. One whisper of impropriety between us and I could find myself fired or worse. That's why it's vital you don't tell anybody of this little jaunt. And make sure Willow and Xander know to keep still about it as well."
"I know. It's just...they couldn't prove anything. I mean, it's not like, you know, we sleep together or anything."
He glanced at her. "It doesn't matter what is, Buffy, what matters is how it appears. Remember how that bounty hunter reacted when he saw us together?"
"Yeah, but that was because we were at lover's lane."
"And if word got out I'd taken you to England with me? Just the two of us? The simple fact that we spend long hours alone together would be enough. People are suspicious and always apt to believe the worst. It's even more difficult because we can't tell the truth."
She was silent, thinking. "Do you ever wish we could?"
"It's impossible."
"That wasn't my question."
"Yes, I wish we could. I wish we could tell your mother and know we'd have her complete support. Mostly because it would be so much easier for you. But that simply isn't to be, so we must make the best of it."
They lapsed back into silence.
"Which is a pretty long way of saying you don't want me to live with you," she finally said.
"Beg pardon?" Sometimes it was impossible to follow her logic.
"Before, when I said my mom would kick me out, and you said...."
"I said she wouldn't kick you out, and I don't think she will. I certainly couldn't reject a child like that, and I doubt your mother could, either. But that has nothing to do with whether I'd want you to come live with me."
"Oh." There was another pause. "Well? Do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Want me to come live with you."
"Why would I want that?"
She shrugged. "I dunno. From what I read in the diaries, that was the way it was usually done. The slayer would become the custody of the watcher, and they'd live together and he'd train her. Right?"
"Well, that's not the way it's done now. Hasn't been in a good fifty years."
"I know, but...."
"You have a perfectly good home with a mother who loves you. Are you so anxious to leave it?"
"No. But let's face it, at some point I'll have to move out. I mean, after high school, after I'm grown up. Or grown-up-er."
"Yes, well let's cross that bridge when we get to it, hmm?"
Another silence. Then, "You still haven't answered my question."
"What question?"
"About whether I could come live with you."
He sighed, exasperated. "Buffy, what is this? Why do you all of a sudden want to move in with me?"
"I don't, not really, it's just.... I dunno, after this week, I just.... I just want to know that I could."
Now it was his turn to be silent, considering her words. He took a deep breath. "If something were to happen to your mother, God forbid. Or if for some reason you could no longer stay in your house, stay where you are.... Yes, you will always be welcome with me. Though to be honest, and I don't mean this as a dig, I am grateful, upon occasion, to send you home." He glanced at her confused expression. "It doesn't mean I don't care for you, simply that I'm used to...more solitude. Quiet. Sometimes you can be a bit...wearing."
Her face was still crossed with a frown. "Would you feel that way about Willow? She's quiet."
He considered. The problem with Willow, and he fully admitted that he adored the girl, was that there was such an air of vulnerability about her, he'd probably spend all his time hovering. "I imagine I'd feel that way about anybody."
"Even a lover?"
He swallowed. "That's different."
"Why?"
He took a deep breath. "You're inquisitive today."
"Too much time to think or something. Why's it different?"
"I don't know. I imagine with a lover, with a life-mate, a spouse, whatever, one is more willing to make certain sacrifices. It's a different depth of feeling."
"Oh."
They rode in silence for several more minutes.
"Were you and Elizabeth lovers?" she asked. He blinked. It wasn't the question he'd been expecting.
"Yes." There was no point pretending with her.
"Thought so. You guys didn't have any personal space."
"Any what?"
"Personal space. You know, there's always a little barrier around people. Their personal space. Only people who are really close let each other into their personal space. With you it was like there wasn't any personal space."
It was a very shrewd observation. Her skills really were improving. "It was a long time ago, and we were both going through...difficulties. We were...there for each other. That's about the best way I can explain it."
"Did you love her?" Buffy asked.
"Yes."
Another pause. "Did she love you?"
"I don't know. I think so. You'd have to ask her that."
Buffy was quiet, considering. He was grateful for the respite, however short, from her questions.
It was broken with her next question. "Do you think you'll become lovers again? I mean,
if she comes for a visit."
Ordinarily, he'd chide her for such personal, prying questions. But he could tell somehow that her asking wasn't motivated by simple prurient curiosity. So he answered her honestly. "I don't know. Possibly. But it's a little soon for me to be
thinking about getting involved with anybody again." He still needed more time to grieve.
"Oh." Once again that awkward discomfort which fell over them whenever Jenny, or anything to do with those events, was mentioned. "It's just...I don't want you to be lonely."
The pieces of the conversation fell into place. "Is that what this is about? The whole bit
about moving in? Buffy, I'm not lonely. I have you, I have the rest of the group. I have my
work. I know you find it hard to believe, but a person can be alone without being lonely. I actually enjoy spending time by myself. I enjoy reading, I enjoy my researches. I don't need someone with me all day, every day to keep me entertained. I'm always grateful for your company, but I don't require it.
"And, in fact, should I, at some point, decide to resume this social life you seem so convinced I need, I might find your presence, well, awkward."
She looked confused for a moment until she realized what he'd meant. "I guess I just want you to be happy," she said softly.
"I know you do, and I'm touched. But I really can look after myself. I've been doing it for a very long time now. But I do appreciate your concern."
She didn't say anything, just smiled at him, an expression he mirrored. He returned his attention to the road.
Something very basic had changed in their relationship this week. Something intrinsic. They could no longer pretend simple 'professional' interest in each other. That barrier was gone. He wondered if she felt it as well.
A glance at her, gazing idly out the window
at the passing countryside, an expression of
peaceful confidence on her face, told him that she did.