Title: Slayer Central chapter 33
Author: Gileswench
Contact: gileswench@yahoo.com
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind which you really don't want. Please don't sue.



"I-I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here."

Sheila sighed.

"Willow, I don't want you here. These people are not healthy for you to be around."

"No, you're wrong." Willow wished her voice could be as forceful as her words. "They're my friends. There's nothing unhealthy about them. This is the best place I can be."

"That's what they want you to believe, I know, but this is not the answer. You should be in the dorms, with other people your age; not in an old house with a group of strangers."

"Mom, the dorms are full of strangers. Here, everybody is someone I know. A dorm is just a house full of strangers who make noise all night long."

Tara moved quietly to the boombox and turned it off. When the others looked at her, she smiled nervously and returned to Willow's side.

"See? Quiet now. I - I could study all night long here."

"Willow studies all the time," Anya interjected helpfully. "We can't get her nose out of a book half the time. And the things she can do on a computer, well, just the other day we needed some information from the coroner's office, but it was encry...."

"Shut up, Anya," Willow gritted.

Sheila held the book open under Willow's nose.

"This isn't the answer, Willow. I know you're young, and you want to experiment, but a sex cult? Can't you see these people are using you?"

The redhead looked at the illustration her mother found so distasteful. Her face paled except for the two spots of crimson on her cheeks.

"You think that's what this is about? That I do...that?"

"I understand that it's normal for a girl your age to want to explore different religions, but this isn't who you are. We raised you Jewish..."

"No you didn't. Not really, even. Sure, I couldn't watch A Charlie Brown Christmas, and you told me Anne Frank died for my sins, but that isn't Jewish. That's just...not Christian. So what if you hauled out a menorah every December? You never sent me to Hebrew school, and I never had a Bat Mitzvah. We even ate bacon for breakfast until Dad's cholesterol got out of hand. How was I raised Jewish? We never even went to a Synagogue except for weddings and funerals so if I'm not Jewish enough for you, whose fault is that?"

The girl turned and ran upstairs, Tara following her as soon as she'd given an angry glare to Mrs. Rosenberg.

Sheila stared after her daughter for a moment. When she made a move to go after Willow, she found a hand on her arm.

"I wouldn't. When she's like that, Tara's the only one who can calm her down."

Anya maneuvered Sheila back to the sofa and sat them both down.

"So, I don't understand: what's the difference between Christian and Jewish?"

*****

Giles began to laugh. It started as a helpless giggle and slowly rose until it became a roar of mirth. Buffy sputtered behind closed lips, barely resisting the urge to join in fully. Cedric grew red with rage as he watched his son nearly double over in his amusement.

"Stop that!" he cried. He stood and banged his cane on the floor repeatedly. The only effect that produced was that Buffy broke down completely and howled along with Giles as he continued to laugh wildly.

Travers simply sat and watched, his expression never changing.

At last, Giles and Buffy quieted down.

"You're all bloody well out of your minds!" Giles exclaimed.

"You could just ask, y'know," Buffy added.

"Would you tell the truth about that, Mrs. Giles?"

"Try me, Travers."

Travers cleared his throat. Giles snickered behind his hand, turning it into a cough when Travers glared.

"Buffy, are you pregnant?"

"Yes. See? That wasn't so hard, was it, Quentin?"

"And who is the father?"

Buffy rolled her eyes.

"See this guy next to me?" She pointed at Giles. "Y'know, my husband, the guy I married?"

Travers turned a tolerant smile on the girl.

"Come now, Buffy. You and I both know that isn't terribly likely."

"Likely or not, Travers, I'll send you a birth announcement sometime late in July. Since you've missed pretty much every birthday, I suggest you start saving now for a really great present."

"You know we can always perform a paternity test once the child is born."

"Fine. Bring it on. Oh, wait, you said you can't until later. I guess you'll just have to take my word for it, won't you? Now, I've told you what you want to know, so it's your turn. What do you know about my father?"

*****

Tara held Willow as she cried herself out. When her sobs subsided to shaky sighs, Tara pulled back and kissed Willow's forehead, cheeks and lips.

"It'll be okay, Honey. She just doesn't understand."

"But...but I can't make her understand, Tara. She'll never accept it."

"Maybe not. Maybe she'll never understand, but that doesn't mean you can't explain."

Willow stiffened in her lovers' arms.

"No. I can't."

She pulled back and crossed the room. She ran her hands over the rat cage and stared unhappily at Amy.

"The last time I tried that, she tied me to a stake and tried to burn me up. That sorta makes me not want to deal. And I still haven't found a way to get Amy de-ratted. I think she doesn't want to be a person anymore."

Tara moved to hold Willow again.

"But your mother was under a spell then. Maybe if you tried now she's herself, it might be okay. Mrs. Summers is okay with Buffy's Slaying."

"Yeah, but Joyce knew about the Slaying before the spell. She was already okay with it. My mom didn't know about me being all witchy. And after, the only thing she remembered was that I was dating a guitarist. I've told her dozens of times since that Oz is gone, but once she gets an idea in her head..."

"S - so your parents don't know? About us?"

"Hence the not getting invited to dinner or anything," Willow admitted.

Tara's head swam as she pulled back and sat on the bed with a thump.

"But you told me you were going to tell them months ago."

"A - and I tried. I really did. They didn't want to hear. Besides, if they do hear, they might try to make me get therapy."

Willow knelt before Tara and took her hands.

"Tara, I love you. Tell me how I can make this up to you."

*****

Cordelia shook her head. She couldn't believe how much lighter it felt. She smiled at her reflection.

"Wow! I love it!"

The stylist smiled and began to sweep up the mane of dark hair from the floor.

Cordelia went to the front to pay without a backward glance at her discarded tresses. She had a new look, and a new life.

Now to see if it would help return her love to her.

*****

"It's not as simple as that, Mrs. Giles," Travers informed her.

Giles' eyes smoldered and his jaw clenched slightly.

"We've told you what you want to know. Now it's your turn. Tell us what you know of Hank Summers."

Travers smiled slightly.

"What you've told me is what you want me to believe. Unfortunately, I don't believe it," he said. He reached out a hand. "Sullivan, the envelope, please."

As his secretary handed over the requested item, Buffy rolled her eyes.

"What is this, Travers? The Oscars?"

Giles looked oddly at Sullivan.

"Gil? Is that you?"

The secretary turned a sorrowful look at Giles.

"Rupert, I wish I could say I was happy to see you."

Buffy looked from one man to the other and back to her husband. An odd feeling prompted her to take Giles' hand possessively. He squeezed it gently, but didn't take his eyes from Sullivan.

Travers cleared his throat.

"Do you still claim that Rupert is your child's father, Buffy?"

"It's the truth."

The Watcher slid the envelope across the table.

"Suppose you take a look at what's in there and tell me that again."


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