The sound of the window opening brought Buffy from her dreaming into a state of semi-consciousness, but she didn’t turn to look. Angel came sometimes when she was already in bed, just to sit with her or plant a kiss on her cheek as she nodded off. If she was lucky, he would even lie down on top of the covers and hold her for a while.
She smiled when she felt his fingers in her hair—and then her memory rushed back in and her whole body recoiled, heart pounding. “Get out,” she gasped.
He chuckled. “Nice try, Buff.”
“What do you want?”
Angel stood, moving silently as if to avoid disturbing anyone else sleeping in the house, which just made Buffy think about how easily he could wake up her mother if he chose to. “Well, I want to spend some time with you, of course,” he said softly. Buffy could just barely see his outline in the darkness, but she could hear the smirk in his voice.
She sat up under the blanket, mentally preparing herself for a battle that she desperately hoped wouldn’t happen. Fighting a vampire in her own bedroom wasn’t a scenario she had ever anticipated. Fighting Angel at all was a frightening prospect, though perhaps an inevitable one. There was nothing she could do about most of the disadvantages she faced at the moment, but she did reach over to her bedside lamp and flick it on.
Both of them blinked a little at the sudden illumination. Angel turned his face away from it, looking cross, and Buffy considered attacking him right then. She swiftly decided against it; her best hope was still to wait for him to leave. “I guess you’re bored,” she said in her lowest voice. “Is the life of an evil overlord not as much fun as you thought?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Buff. Like I said, I just wanted to see you. We used to see each other every night, didn’t we?” He took a few swaggering steps around the room and came back to the bed; Buffy flinched as he sat down on the mattress by her feet. “I know you miss me too,” he whispered, holding her gaze with those deep dark eyes. “There’s no use trying to deny it.”
“I miss being asleep while you’re nowhere near me. Get out or get staked.”
Angel smiled seductively. “You say that, but I don’t think you really mean it.” He leaned closer. “I’ve been killing regularly since you freed me from my soul.
Seems like the Slayer should put in the effort to stop me, but where is she? Maybe you just can’t bear the thought of life without your boyfriend.”
Buffy did her best to stare him down. “You’re not my boyfriend. And you are going to die at my hands.”
He came closer still, propped on one hand so his face was just inches from hers. “You know,” he whispered, “even when I bite other girls, I’m thinking of you.”
A few minutes later he was gone and had left no trace. Buffy left her bed only to take a stake from her hidden stash, and then she lay awake for hours with the useless weapon clutched in her hand.
She smiled when she felt his fingers in her hair—and then her memory rushed back in and her whole body recoiled, heart pounding. “Get out,” she gasped.
He chuckled. “Nice try, Buff.”
“What do you want?”
Angel stood, moving silently as if to avoid disturbing anyone else sleeping in the house, which just made Buffy think about how easily he could wake up her mother if he chose to. “Well, I want to spend some time with you, of course,” he said softly. Buffy could just barely see his outline in the darkness, but she could hear the smirk in his voice.
She sat up under the blanket, mentally preparing herself for a battle that she desperately hoped wouldn’t happen. Fighting a vampire in her own bedroom wasn’t a scenario she had ever anticipated. Fighting Angel at all was a frightening prospect, though perhaps an inevitable one. There was nothing she could do about most of the disadvantages she faced at the moment, but she did reach over to her bedside lamp and flick it on.
Both of them blinked a little at the sudden illumination. Angel turned his face away from it, looking cross, and Buffy considered attacking him right then. She swiftly decided against it; her best hope was still to wait for him to leave. “I guess you’re bored,” she said in her lowest voice. “Is the life of an evil overlord not as much fun as you thought?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Buff. Like I said, I just wanted to see you. We used to see each other every night, didn’t we?” He took a few swaggering steps around the room and came back to the bed; Buffy flinched as he sat down on the mattress by her feet. “I know you miss me too,” he whispered, holding her gaze with those deep dark eyes. “There’s no use trying to deny it.”
“I miss being asleep while you’re nowhere near me. Get out or get staked.”
Angel smiled seductively. “You say that, but I don’t think you really mean it.” He leaned closer. “I’ve been killing regularly since you freed me from my soul.
Seems like the Slayer should put in the effort to stop me, but where is she? Maybe you just can’t bear the thought of life without your boyfriend.”
Buffy did her best to stare him down. “You’re not my boyfriend. And you are going to die at my hands.”
He came closer still, propped on one hand so his face was just inches from hers. “You know,” he whispered, “even when I bite other girls, I’m thinking of you.”
A few minutes later he was gone and had left no trace. Buffy left her bed only to take a stake from her hidden stash, and then she lay awake for hours with the useless weapon clutched in her hand.
Computer class wrapped as usual, leaving Willow to wonder if any of her classmates ever noticed a difference in the way Miss Calendar acted when she was preoccupied with supernatural troubles. Or the way Willow herself acted, for that matter, but she didn’t think anyone but her friends really paid attention to her anyway.
Buffy appeared in the doorway as the other students were leaving, and Willow hesitated. She usually liked to be the last one to leave the computer lab, in case anyone wanted her help, but maybe Buffy would rather get away quickly so as not give Miss Calendar a chance to speak to her.
But before Willow’s backpack was zipped, Buffy had entered the room and was walking boldly up to Miss Calendar’s desk. Willow quietly went to stand at her side, and Buffy gave her a quick smile of acknowledgement and then turned a more serious expression toward the teacher. “You’re still working on the spell to restore Angel’s soul, right?”
Miss Calendar raised an eyebrow at the unconventional opener, then nodded and said, “Yes, of course.”
“How close are you?”
Willow’s concern for her friend was growing. There was no way that Buffy would bring this up out of idle curiosity.
“I still don’t know if it’s even possible,” Miss Calendar replied. “You know that.” She raised a hand against Buffy’s upcoming protest and added, “But we should be finding out soon. I need to pick up some supplies tomorrow and then I can test a theory.”
Buffy looked no less tense at that answer, and Willow finally spoke up to ask her, “Did something happen?”
There was a pause as Buffy looked at her and then Miss Calendar and back again, but her response was addressed to both of them: “He was in my room. Woke me up just to taunt me. I think…I think he knows I don’t want to kill him. That it’s not just me being sentimental, I mean.”
Willow shivered. She hoped that Miss Calendar understood exactly how dire this was.
It seemed she did. “That must have been very frightening,” she said, more gravely than sympathetically. “Is there any chance he could have found out about what we’re doing?”
Buffy shook her head. “I can’t say for sure but as far as I can tell, he just connected the dots. He’s inconveniently smart sometimes.”
“Well, I’ll keep working on the spell, but in the meantime, we need to find a way to keep him from getting into your house. You should ask Rupert--” She stumbled, looking slightly guilty as she continued, “Or I can ask him, if you’d prefer.”
A formal chill came into Buffy’s voice. “I can handle speaking to Giles, thank you. I’m headed to the library anyway.”
“Oh, me too,” Willow blurted out, seizing on a potential escape from the atmosphere in here. “Want to walk over there now?”
“Wait,” Miss Calendar cut in. “Willow, would you mind taking over my class tomorrow until I get here? I want to make sure I have enough time to pick up those items in the morning.”
Willow tried to focus as she and Buffy walked to the library, but her head was already full of the lesson plan she had been working on with her classmates.
Whenever she got to lead the computer class, they weren’t even her classmates, they were her students. Maybe this would be the day that she finally had a good reason to exercise her authority to assign detention.
Buffy appeared in the doorway as the other students were leaving, and Willow hesitated. She usually liked to be the last one to leave the computer lab, in case anyone wanted her help, but maybe Buffy would rather get away quickly so as not give Miss Calendar a chance to speak to her.
But before Willow’s backpack was zipped, Buffy had entered the room and was walking boldly up to Miss Calendar’s desk. Willow quietly went to stand at her side, and Buffy gave her a quick smile of acknowledgement and then turned a more serious expression toward the teacher. “You’re still working on the spell to restore Angel’s soul, right?”
Miss Calendar raised an eyebrow at the unconventional opener, then nodded and said, “Yes, of course.”
“How close are you?”
Willow’s concern for her friend was growing. There was no way that Buffy would bring this up out of idle curiosity.
“I still don’t know if it’s even possible,” Miss Calendar replied. “You know that.” She raised a hand against Buffy’s upcoming protest and added, “But we should be finding out soon. I need to pick up some supplies tomorrow and then I can test a theory.”
Buffy looked no less tense at that answer, and Willow finally spoke up to ask her, “Did something happen?”
There was a pause as Buffy looked at her and then Miss Calendar and back again, but her response was addressed to both of them: “He was in my room. Woke me up just to taunt me. I think…I think he knows I don’t want to kill him. That it’s not just me being sentimental, I mean.”
Willow shivered. She hoped that Miss Calendar understood exactly how dire this was.
It seemed she did. “That must have been very frightening,” she said, more gravely than sympathetically. “Is there any chance he could have found out about what we’re doing?”
Buffy shook her head. “I can’t say for sure but as far as I can tell, he just connected the dots. He’s inconveniently smart sometimes.”
“Well, I’ll keep working on the spell, but in the meantime, we need to find a way to keep him from getting into your house. You should ask Rupert--” She stumbled, looking slightly guilty as she continued, “Or I can ask him, if you’d prefer.”
A formal chill came into Buffy’s voice. “I can handle speaking to Giles, thank you. I’m headed to the library anyway.”
“Oh, me too,” Willow blurted out, seizing on a potential escape from the atmosphere in here. “Want to walk over there now?”
“Wait,” Miss Calendar cut in. “Willow, would you mind taking over my class tomorrow until I get here? I want to make sure I have enough time to pick up those items in the morning.”
Willow tried to focus as she and Buffy walked to the library, but her head was already full of the lesson plan she had been working on with her classmates.
Whenever she got to lead the computer class, they weren’t even her classmates, they were her students. Maybe this would be the day that she finally had a good reason to exercise her authority to assign detention.
Buffy had never realized how much the library had become a sanctuary until it wasn’t anymore. Giles was there, the stalwart who had swallowed his pride and stayed to help her even after she and the Watchers’ Council had both dismissed him. Wesley was also there.
After the rat incident, Buffy had warmed up to the idea of the junior Watcher remaining in Sunnydale to see for himself just how out of his depth he was, but she wasn’t about to start sharing any secrets with him. If he overheard so much as a mention of Angel, he would take it right back to the Watchers’ Council, and there was no telling what they might do with that kind of gossip.
Cordelia was lingering in the library too, so to buy some time, Buffy asked her, “Where’s Xander?” as she and Willow set their bags down at the table.
“Wow,” came the response in true Cordy fashion. “I am so not curious about that.” She pretended to be inspecting her nails, but Buffy saw her cast a look at Wesley, behind the counter, to see if he had noticed.
It wasn’t of any concern to Buffy who Cordelia wanted to date, but she was irked at the thought that Xander might be avoiding the library for such a trivial reason. Right now all she wanted was trusted friends to talk to, as many as possible.
Well, that, and for the non-trusted non-friend Wesley to be removed from the library. He and Giles spoke at the same time, but Wesley trailed off while Giles asserted himself by adding more volume to his question. “Is there anything I can help you with, Buffy?”
“Willow and I have…homework,” she replied, thinking fast. “We need books.”
Willow picked up the thread immediately. “Right! We need microbiology books.”
Giles nodded briskly, and Buffy chanced a look at Wesley. As she had hoped, he showed no sign of interest in Buffy as a student or Giles as a school librarian, and he and Cordelia stayed where they were as Giles led Buffy and Willow up the stairs and into the stacks. Buffy cracked a grin when she saw that the books on microbiology were in the corner farthest from the front desk - Willow must have known that.
All of them kept their voices down anyway. “Do you have anything that can revoke a vampire’s invitation to a house?” Buffy asked straight off.
“Angel was in her room last night,” Willow added. “And Miss Calendar isn’t ready to try the ritual to restore his soul yet. But she will be soon!”
Giles looked more than a little disturbed. “He entered your house? How do you know?”
Buffy summarized the terrifying conversation with Angel she had endured, keeping her voice low and her tone neutral. Lately it seemed almost too easy to control her outward emotions. When she reached the heart of her concern, though, she began to quaver: “Angel once told me, when he was obsessed with Drusilla, one of the first things he did was to kill her family…”
Giles and Willow both turned to her with open-mouthed expressions. Buffy recovered her equilibrium and went on, “I’ll come up with something to tell my mom, but I really need you on this one. Jenny too, to be honest. Please hurry.”
After the rat incident, Buffy had warmed up to the idea of the junior Watcher remaining in Sunnydale to see for himself just how out of his depth he was, but she wasn’t about to start sharing any secrets with him. If he overheard so much as a mention of Angel, he would take it right back to the Watchers’ Council, and there was no telling what they might do with that kind of gossip.
Cordelia was lingering in the library too, so to buy some time, Buffy asked her, “Where’s Xander?” as she and Willow set their bags down at the table.
“Wow,” came the response in true Cordy fashion. “I am so not curious about that.” She pretended to be inspecting her nails, but Buffy saw her cast a look at Wesley, behind the counter, to see if he had noticed.
It wasn’t of any concern to Buffy who Cordelia wanted to date, but she was irked at the thought that Xander might be avoiding the library for such a trivial reason. Right now all she wanted was trusted friends to talk to, as many as possible.
Well, that, and for the non-trusted non-friend Wesley to be removed from the library. He and Giles spoke at the same time, but Wesley trailed off while Giles asserted himself by adding more volume to his question. “Is there anything I can help you with, Buffy?”
“Willow and I have…homework,” she replied, thinking fast. “We need books.”
Willow picked up the thread immediately. “Right! We need microbiology books.”
Giles nodded briskly, and Buffy chanced a look at Wesley. As she had hoped, he showed no sign of interest in Buffy as a student or Giles as a school librarian, and he and Cordelia stayed where they were as Giles led Buffy and Willow up the stairs and into the stacks. Buffy cracked a grin when she saw that the books on microbiology were in the corner farthest from the front desk - Willow must have known that.
All of them kept their voices down anyway. “Do you have anything that can revoke a vampire’s invitation to a house?” Buffy asked straight off.
“Angel was in her room last night,” Willow added. “And Miss Calendar isn’t ready to try the ritual to restore his soul yet. But she will be soon!”
Giles looked more than a little disturbed. “He entered your house? How do you know?”
Buffy summarized the terrifying conversation with Angel she had endured, keeping her voice low and her tone neutral. Lately it seemed almost too easy to control her outward emotions. When she reached the heart of her concern, though, she began to quaver: “Angel once told me, when he was obsessed with Drusilla, one of the first things he did was to kill her family…”
Giles and Willow both turned to her with open-mouthed expressions. Buffy recovered her equilibrium and went on, “I’ll come up with something to tell my mom, but I really need you on this one. Jenny too, to be honest. Please hurry.”
As soon as he caught up with her that afternoon, Giles invited Jenny to dinner at his house, and was surprised when she initially refused on the grounds that she didn’t have time. She immediately clarified that she was pouring all of her time and energy into writing the spell that could restore Angel’s soul, which made sense, but he took the liberty of gently pointing out that nobody was in a better position to help her with it than he was.
It didn’t take long from there to wear her down, and Giles went home and prepared a cottage pie, a humble dish that he hoped she would see as comfort food. There was plenty of good wine, and when he set the table and chose a record to play, it was with a casual atmosphere in mind. The last thing that Jenny needed was any pressure to play into the romantic side of their relationship.
Once she had arrived, though, he did gently insist that all shop talk was put off until after dinner. Instead they talked about Sunnydale High and the students that meant so much to both of them. Buffy and her courage in the face of loss and danger, Willow and the endless opportunities her intelligence would grant her. Giles let off some steam about Wesley, who hadn’t done a thing to discourage Cordelia’s flirtations. Jenny knew about Oz, the young werewolf who had been courting Willow, and recalled their breakup with true compassion for both parties.
The conversation also made frequent digressions into their own backgrounds. Giles still learned something new about Jenny every time they were alone together, and he always enjoyed it.
Tonight he learned something quite beyond his expectations. “I finished translating the spell a week ago,” she confessed.
They were in the sitting room now, illuminated by just a couple of table lamps. Jenny’s half-empty wine glass, her third so far, swayed but remained upright with its stem balanced between her fingers. Her unspoken gratitude had been clear in her eyes since she came in, but now her weariness was becoming more prominent. “I wrote a program for it and everything just fell into place,” she went on, before Giles could formulate an interjection. “If that magic shop in town has the ingredients I need, I’ll be more or less ready to put it to the test.”
He blinked. “I stock some of the most common spell components at home, you know. Do you recall your full shopping list offhand?”
She did, and he confirmed that everything she needed was either here or in his office, and that he could pack it up with the Orb of Thesulah and save her a trip. Jenny rubbed the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. “Well, that’s one less excuse to lean on, but what I’m trying to do now is change the spell.”
“Change it? In what way?”
She took a long breath before answering. “My ancestors only had vengeance in mind when they came up with this curse. They didn’t care who else was hurt by it. If I recreate it exactly as it was the first time, there’s nothing that would stop this happening all over again. Even if Buffy and Angel know better than to risk triggering it…he’s immortal. We can’t count on him never experiencing true happiness again, and next time, we might be long dead.”
Giles carefully set aside his own empty wine glass without taking his eyes off of her. “You want to rewrite it without that clause? You believe that’s possible?”
Jenny rolled her head back on her chair. “I don’t know. Yes, I think it’s possible, but that’s a far cry from thinking that I can actually do it. I’m not a witch, Rupert. I study magic academically, I can perform a few entry-level rituals, but I’ve never attempted anything like this.”
“Is it a matter of inborn aptitude? I may be able to find someone who can help.” Or I could try it myself, he didn’t add. His own aptitude might be greater than Jenny’s, but given his personal history with magic, that was a last resort.
“I can’t let anyone else try to do this,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s my own responsibility. I’m just scared.”
She said it so plainly, like stating the obvious, that Giles’ first impulse was to reassure her that nothing terrible would happen. But that would only be true if she didn’t put herself at risk for the sake of this spell, and he had no right to keep her from her duty. All he could offer his lover, like his Slayer, was support. “Scared of what, exactly?” he inquired.
Jenny finished off her wine and put the glass down on the side table. “Afterlife is a tricky business, isn’t it?” she mused. “Enyos had an unbelievably strong connection to our ancestors. I think that’s the real reason he was so obsessed with upholding their thirst for vengeance. They were there with him, whispering to him, all his life.” She closed her eyes momentarily, as if in prayer. “When tradition isn’t enough to carry on a vendetta over generations, communication with the dead will do it.”
“But you don’t share that connection, do you?”
“No. I just have first hand proof that it exists. And that means that they exist. A bunch of dead Kalderash elders who like nothing more than getting back at anyone who’s wronged them.”
Giles frowned. “You haven’t wronged them. You observed all of their laws until the curse was broken.”
“Even if they see it that way, do you think they’ll sign off on me making alterations to their spell?”
“Ah. Yes, I see.” He took off his glasses, rubbed them idly with the hem of his shirt, then left them in his lap. “You understand the Kalderash better than I do. Would they really be likely to harm one of their own?”
Without his corrective lenses, Jenny’s face was blurred, but there was a waver of fear in her voice. “They might not even see it as harm, but…I don’t want to be possessed.”
Of course. Eyghon still cast its shadow over her, no less now than it did him. Whatever the risk or the cost, Giles knew there were some things he couldn’t ask of her. He couldn’t let anyone else ask it, either, even if this was the only way to make things right with Buffy. “Perhaps we could separate this into two different spells,” he said, the first idea that came to his mind. “The vital thing now is returning Angel’s soul, but it may be easier to change the terms of the curse once he’s more inclined to cooperate.”
“That would probably mean inventing a spell from scratch,” she said doubtfully. “For the original, I’ve at least got the translation for guidelines.”
“One more thing to research.” He chanced a weary smile. “I’m afraid my own priority, at the moment, needs to be a spell that can revoke a vampire’s--”
“--Invitation to a house,” Jenny finished for him. “Buffy told me. And maybe I can help with that, if you have any relevant books here.”
Giles finally put his glasses back on, and they spent the next hour poring over his home library together. As a research team they worked together quietly and efficiently, and he felt it was what both of them needed, on some level.
It turned out that some of the books with the necessary answers were still at the school, but Giles was just glad they were making progress. Jenny stood up to stretch at one point, and made a sound of surprise when she glanced at the clock. Instead of excusing herself to go home, though, she looked at him and asked, “Do you want to go to bed?”
The table remained covered in books and notes, the sink was full of dishes. Giles ignored all of it and took the hand of the woman he loved, leading her upstairs to his bedroom.
He didn’t forget, however, to set his alarm for early morning before he undressed. Buffy still needed that spell.
It didn’t take long from there to wear her down, and Giles went home and prepared a cottage pie, a humble dish that he hoped she would see as comfort food. There was plenty of good wine, and when he set the table and chose a record to play, it was with a casual atmosphere in mind. The last thing that Jenny needed was any pressure to play into the romantic side of their relationship.
Once she had arrived, though, he did gently insist that all shop talk was put off until after dinner. Instead they talked about Sunnydale High and the students that meant so much to both of them. Buffy and her courage in the face of loss and danger, Willow and the endless opportunities her intelligence would grant her. Giles let off some steam about Wesley, who hadn’t done a thing to discourage Cordelia’s flirtations. Jenny knew about Oz, the young werewolf who had been courting Willow, and recalled their breakup with true compassion for both parties.
The conversation also made frequent digressions into their own backgrounds. Giles still learned something new about Jenny every time they were alone together, and he always enjoyed it.
Tonight he learned something quite beyond his expectations. “I finished translating the spell a week ago,” she confessed.
They were in the sitting room now, illuminated by just a couple of table lamps. Jenny’s half-empty wine glass, her third so far, swayed but remained upright with its stem balanced between her fingers. Her unspoken gratitude had been clear in her eyes since she came in, but now her weariness was becoming more prominent. “I wrote a program for it and everything just fell into place,” she went on, before Giles could formulate an interjection. “If that magic shop in town has the ingredients I need, I’ll be more or less ready to put it to the test.”
He blinked. “I stock some of the most common spell components at home, you know. Do you recall your full shopping list offhand?”
She did, and he confirmed that everything she needed was either here or in his office, and that he could pack it up with the Orb of Thesulah and save her a trip. Jenny rubbed the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. “Well, that’s one less excuse to lean on, but what I’m trying to do now is change the spell.”
“Change it? In what way?”
She took a long breath before answering. “My ancestors only had vengeance in mind when they came up with this curse. They didn’t care who else was hurt by it. If I recreate it exactly as it was the first time, there’s nothing that would stop this happening all over again. Even if Buffy and Angel know better than to risk triggering it…he’s immortal. We can’t count on him never experiencing true happiness again, and next time, we might be long dead.”
Giles carefully set aside his own empty wine glass without taking his eyes off of her. “You want to rewrite it without that clause? You believe that’s possible?”
Jenny rolled her head back on her chair. “I don’t know. Yes, I think it’s possible, but that’s a far cry from thinking that I can actually do it. I’m not a witch, Rupert. I study magic academically, I can perform a few entry-level rituals, but I’ve never attempted anything like this.”
“Is it a matter of inborn aptitude? I may be able to find someone who can help.” Or I could try it myself, he didn’t add. His own aptitude might be greater than Jenny’s, but given his personal history with magic, that was a last resort.
“I can’t let anyone else try to do this,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s my own responsibility. I’m just scared.”
She said it so plainly, like stating the obvious, that Giles’ first impulse was to reassure her that nothing terrible would happen. But that would only be true if she didn’t put herself at risk for the sake of this spell, and he had no right to keep her from her duty. All he could offer his lover, like his Slayer, was support. “Scared of what, exactly?” he inquired.
Jenny finished off her wine and put the glass down on the side table. “Afterlife is a tricky business, isn’t it?” she mused. “Enyos had an unbelievably strong connection to our ancestors. I think that’s the real reason he was so obsessed with upholding their thirst for vengeance. They were there with him, whispering to him, all his life.” She closed her eyes momentarily, as if in prayer. “When tradition isn’t enough to carry on a vendetta over generations, communication with the dead will do it.”
“But you don’t share that connection, do you?”
“No. I just have first hand proof that it exists. And that means that they exist. A bunch of dead Kalderash elders who like nothing more than getting back at anyone who’s wronged them.”
Giles frowned. “You haven’t wronged them. You observed all of their laws until the curse was broken.”
“Even if they see it that way, do you think they’ll sign off on me making alterations to their spell?”
“Ah. Yes, I see.” He took off his glasses, rubbed them idly with the hem of his shirt, then left them in his lap. “You understand the Kalderash better than I do. Would they really be likely to harm one of their own?”
Without his corrective lenses, Jenny’s face was blurred, but there was a waver of fear in her voice. “They might not even see it as harm, but…I don’t want to be possessed.”
Of course. Eyghon still cast its shadow over her, no less now than it did him. Whatever the risk or the cost, Giles knew there were some things he couldn’t ask of her. He couldn’t let anyone else ask it, either, even if this was the only way to make things right with Buffy. “Perhaps we could separate this into two different spells,” he said, the first idea that came to his mind. “The vital thing now is returning Angel’s soul, but it may be easier to change the terms of the curse once he’s more inclined to cooperate.”
“That would probably mean inventing a spell from scratch,” she said doubtfully. “For the original, I’ve at least got the translation for guidelines.”
“One more thing to research.” He chanced a weary smile. “I’m afraid my own priority, at the moment, needs to be a spell that can revoke a vampire’s--”
“--Invitation to a house,” Jenny finished for him. “Buffy told me. And maybe I can help with that, if you have any relevant books here.”
Giles finally put his glasses back on, and they spent the next hour poring over his home library together. As a research team they worked together quietly and efficiently, and he felt it was what both of them needed, on some level.
It turned out that some of the books with the necessary answers were still at the school, but Giles was just glad they were making progress. Jenny stood up to stretch at one point, and made a sound of surprise when she glanced at the clock. Instead of excusing herself to go home, though, she looked at him and asked, “Do you want to go to bed?”
The table remained covered in books and notes, the sink was full of dishes. Giles ignored all of it and took the hand of the woman he loved, leading her upstairs to his bedroom.
He didn’t forget, however, to set his alarm for early morning before he undressed. Buffy still needed that spell.
