Chapter 33
Elizabeth had been sitting in her and Willow’s old room, waiting anxiously, when the call had finally come. It had not been a fun weekend. Spike had been quite grouchy that his romantic plans had been all for naught, and Elizabeth had been acting as though there were a death sentence upon her. It didn’t help that after Dawn’s first, desperate call of warning, they’d been unable to get hold of her again. Apparently, the teen hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she’d had to sneak out of being grounded to make the call to Elizabeth.
Thus, when the phone finally rang, it was a welcome relief that this situation would finally be dealt with, while still the fulfillment of a deep-seated dread.
“Hi?” Elizabeth said into the receiver hesitantly.
“Buffy, is that you?” Hank didn’t sound happy. He sounded like he was about to make a hostile take-over.
Elizabeth suddenly wondered about the wisdom of not having Spike present for this. The comfort of his touch would undoubtedly have done her wonders. “Yeah, daddy, it’s me,” she agreed with false cheer.
“I’m surprised I didn’t get that roommate of yours,” Hank commented off-handedly. “Willa, or whatever.”
“Willow,” Elizabeth corrected, mildly annoyed despite the trouble she was in.
“And what kind of name is that, anyway?” he demanded. “Sounds like some flower-child hippie—”
“Her mom’s a woman’s right activist and political science professor,” Elizabeth corrected the misconception.
Hank really didn’t care. “Still, glad I finally found you in your room. Been working a lot lately, have we?”
“Midterms aren’t until right before spring break,” she informed him. “But, yeah, I’ve got a lot of readings, and—”
“How about that econ class you were taking?” Hank pressed.
Elizabeth bit her lip. Now, she’d never exactly told him she was taking econ, but it had been implied. “I, uh, kinda didn’t keep that class,” she admitted nervously.
There was silence on the other end of the line. “I see,” he said finally.
“It was just that there was this other class,” she hastened to explain, “and I’m already taking calculus, so I thought—”
“Did you?” Hank interrupted her. “Did you bother to think at all?”
Elizabeth’s face paled at that. “D-Daddy?” she began, her voice weak.
“I think we need to have a talk about your future, young lady,” Hank informed her in a stern tone. “Several things have come to my attention as of late, and I am not at all pleased with the way you’ve been carrying on.”
“B-But I’m doing really well!” Elizabeth insisted, almost in a panic. “I had perfect grades last semester!”
“Your grades are not the issue here,” Hank countered. “You’ve been behaving like a child, ignoring everything I’ve gone through for your own good and—”
“That’s not fair!” she cut him off with a petulant tone.
“You do not interrupt me, Buffy,” he informed her with a stern voice. “And you know I’m right about this. I should’ve known better than to give you so much leeway in college. There are all sorts of temptations that—”
“I can take care of myself,” she pouted.
“You have made it eminently clear that you cannot,” he countered with a sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to take matters into my own hands…” The sound of flipping papers sounded in the background. “I’ve got a meeting in New York City this coming Thursday,” he finally decided. “I’ll stop by your campus after that, and we can meet, straighten a few things out.”
Elizabeth felt her composure rapidly disintegrating. All she wanted to do now was to get off the phone before she burst out into tears. “Yes, daddy,” she agreed.
“Good. I’ll have Tracy call you and set up our appointment,” he agreed. “And you’d better be willing to listen, then.”
“Yes, daddy,” she sighed.
A smile crossed Hank’s face. “That’s my little Buffy,” he said approvingly, in a tone that was designed to make her feel better but fell well short of the mark. “Don’t worry, pumpkin. Daddy still loves you.”
“Love you, too,” she agreed, forcing back tears.
“All right then, bye, Buffy.”
“Bye, daddy.”
The instant she hung up the phone, Elizabeth burst out sobbing.
* * *
Oz had never been more terrified in his life. In fact, as far as he could remember, he’d never been terrified in his life. However, now, facing something not even he could quite comprehend that he’d done, to someone he greatly respected, his future completely on the line… Yeah, he was terrified.
Professor Simmonds blinked, removed his glasses, cleaned them thoroughly, and replaced them on the bridge of his nose, only to remove them for cleaning once more. It was a professor thing.
“I don’t even know what to say,” he finally sighed, setting down the glasses on the desk for a minute. “I never for one second thought… That this was something so malicious…” He seemed quite thoroughly stunned speechless.
“I wish I could justify it to you,” Oz agreed, “but I can’t. There’s no excuse, and I can’t believe that I would…” He trailed off, also not knowing what to say for once.
Professor Simmonds sat stunned. Oz sat frightened. Catherine Engles, head of housing, looked back and forth between the two of them both nervously and hopefully. For what she’d heard, Oz really hadn’t intended any harm. She herself was a bit torn about how much blame to put on the young man. Getting himself into such a position in the first place was obviously an error in judgment, but not a criminal charge like those he would be facing if he were turned in to the police.
“You were in my Civics class, weren’t you?” Professor Simmonds finally spoke up.
Oz nodded numbly. “I really liked it,” he added.
“One of the best students, as I recall,” Simmonds sighed. “Veruca…was not.”
Oz’s gaze flickered down to his hands. He felt really and truly lousy right about now.
“You realize that this is an offense punishable by jail time,” Simmonds commented.
“Yes,” Oz agreed dejectedly.
“I had honestly thought it was a mistake that my house was hit,” Simmonds went on. “The police asked me if I had any enemies, and I told them no. I even considered the possibility that it was a random attack. Those ‘hoodlums’ everyone seems so afraid of, or some such nonsense. But, that students of mine would…” He shook his head. “It’s almost unbelievable.”
“True, though,” Oz said apologetically. “I only remembered scattered bits and pieces of that night, but… True.”
“Did you know it was my house?” Simmonds asked suddenly.
Oz looked up at him in surprise. “No,” he insisted. “She didn’t tell me. I think I mentioned to her once that I liked you. She was probably afraid that I would back out…”
“And would you have?” Simmonds inquired.
Oz sighed. “That night? I was pretty out of control. Not thinking straight…”
“That’s not an answer to my question,” he pointed out.
“No,” Oz agreed. He took a deep breath. “I honestly don’t know if I would’ve still done it,” he admitted ruefully.
Simmonds nodded. “Honesty. That’s something, at least.”
“Mr. Osborne has been very cooperative with the Housing Office,” Catherine spoke up for the first time since Oz made his confession. “We honestly don’t feel that he had any malicious intent.”
Oz didn’t even dare to look at Professor Simmonds at that.
“Neither do I,” Simmonds surprised him. Off of Oz’s shocked expression, he managed a wan smile. “The police have no leads. You were in no danger of being caught. The instigators of such incidents are virtually never the ones to come forward in these situations. If they had the guilt, they wouldn’t have committed the crime in the first place.”
Oz nodded. “I vaguely remember that,” he agreed with a slight smile.
“Besides,” Simmonds said wearily, “I don’t think I could bear to send a student to prison. Even under circumstances such as these. I suppose I shall have to drop any charges…”
“Thank you, sir,” Oz mumbled, slightly guilty that he was getting out of this so easily.
“That doesn’t preclude the two of you from reprimands within the college, though,” Simmonds pointed out.
“Agreed,” Oz sighed with a nod.
“I can’t imagine Veruca getting off with anything less than expulsion.” Simmonds shook his head. “Frankly, I’d wondered a couple of times if that young woman was a little psychotic. You should have seen the number she did on the boy whose paper she cheated of off – also one of my better students,” he commented, more intrigued by this statement that judgmental.
“She’s got a…free, pure way about her,” Oz tried to explain.
Simmonds nodded. “Most psychotics do,” he agreed. Closing up his briefcase with a sigh, he moved to stand up. “I’ll be reporting this incident to the board of directors, naturally. You will probably have to go before them.”
Catherine nodded, taking over her position as Oz’s defense once more. “Do you plan to make any recommendations?” she pressed.
“I’ll inform them that I, personally, place the majority of the blame on Veruca,” he replied before turning back to Oz. “I would advise you to tell them what you told me. I trust that they will have an appropriate response.”
“Thank you, sir,” Oz repeated. “And I am sorry about what I did.”
“You should be,” were Simmonds’ parting words.
“Well, that went pretty well,” Catherine commented after he was gone. “At least you’re not facing serious jail time.”
“Simmonds is cool like that,” Oz agreed…
* * *
“Anyanka!” Spike exclaimed in surprise and delight. “You’re awake.”
“I’ve been up and about for four days now,” she said pointedly. “Not that you would’ve noticed given that you were busy off having orgasms. Oh, and don’t call me ‘Anyanka’.”
He laughed and gave her a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. “How’re you feelin’, luv?” he asked softly.
She sighed. “Still kinda crummy,” she admitted, “but I’m getting caught up on all my back work, and I even plan to attend a class on Thursday.”
“Don’t overwork yourself,” he advised, plopping down on Xander’s bed. “So where’s your doting boyfriend?” he inquired.
“Oh sure,” she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes. “Just pretend you’re interested in my health and then go all on about Xander. It’s all right, you know. You don’t have to pretend.” She gave him an amused little smile.
He smiled back, and his eyes softened. “Missed you, luv,” he assured her. “However, Harris and I need to do some serious ‘guy talk’.”
“Ooh!” Anya exclaimed in sudden delight, clapping her hands together. “Does it have to do with penises? Because that’s a personal interest of mine…”
Spike started at her in stunned disbelief before he remembered who this was. “Some of the things that come out of your mouth, pet…” He shook his head in awe.
Anya pouted. “You can tell me,” she assured him, “since Xander’s not here and all.”
“Where is ‘e, anyway?” Spiked wondered, looking about the room as if he expecting to find Xander crouching behind the wastebasket or something.
Anya sighed. “He and Cordy are doing a ‘scene rehearsal’,” she explained. “It’s about all the two of them do these days. I mean, honestly, you would think that wanna-be actors would have warning labels on them or something.”
Spike lifted a scarred eyebrow in her direction. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Cordy?” he asked in disbelief.
“Not exactly jealous,” Anya corrected, “just a greedy, selfish girlfriend who wants to monopolize all his time.”
“’Least you’re straightforward about it,” he commented, pulling out a cigarette.
Anya stood up and snatched it from his fingers deftly. “It’s time for The Get Spike To Quit Smoking Campaign number seventeen,” she announced. “Everyone else has been very negligent in my absence.”
He groaned but provided his pack of Dunhills into her waiting hand.
“Now,” she went on, closing the tempting pack into one of Xander’s drawers where Spike couldn’t see it, “tell me all about this guy talk.” She sat down in the armchair across from him, hands folded in her lap expectantly.
“Can’t tell you!” he insisted vehemently. “’s guy stuff!”
“Oh puh-leeze!” Anya batted one hand in the air dismissively. “You guy talked with me about Drusilla all the time.”
“Yeah, because I was drunk!” he insisted.
Anya’s look of conviction didn’t waver in the slightest.
“Oh bugger!” he exclaimed in defeat. “Fine,” he finally agreed, “but none ‘f this gets back to Cordy, right?”
“Every word,” Anya promised the opposite with an evil grin.
Spike banged his head against the headboard in frustration. “You’re a wicked, wicked woman,” he informed her with a scowl.
“I know,” she agreed happily. “Now, on with the penises.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, luv, but this has nothin’ to do with penises,” he informed her.
“You’re a guy,” she countered. “Everything has to do with your penis. Now, go on.”
He gave her an annoyed look but did as she requested. “What does it mean when you tell a girl you love ‘er, but she doesn’t say it back?” he wondered.
“That she doesn’t love you back,” Anya said matter-of-factly before her eyes widened at the implications of that. “You love Elizabeth?” A smile lit up her face. “That’s great! That’s…” The smile turned to a frown. “She doesn’t feel the same way?” she asked, concerned.
“Says she doesn’t really know what love is,” he shrugged. “Wants me to explain it to her all nice and neat so she can determine if that’s what she feels or not.”
Anya’s frown increased. “That sounds like an excuse to me,” she commented.
He sighed. “Yeah.”
“Have you talked to her about this?”
He shrugged.
Anya rolled her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t wanna…” He struggled for words, hands gesticulating in the air erratically. “…y’know, pressure her. Don’t want her to say she feels somethin’ she doesn’t just ‘cause she thinks I want her to say it.”
Anya looked at him askance. “Ah, the wishy-washy, too-sensitive-to-say-what’s-actually-on-my-mind technique,” she said sarcastically. “Yeah, that one works real well.”
“The couple ‘f fights we’ve had,” he clarified, “she completely freaked out.”
“Fights are necessary for wonderful make-up sex,” Anya stated one of her favorite truisms.
Spike managed an amused smile at that. “She seems to think ‘s the sign of the apocalypse.”
Anya stared at him in disbelief. “Hello? You two fought nonstop before you got together. Hell, it’s natural for you to have your little spats.”
“Not exactly pleasant, though, are they?” he countered.
“No, but you don’t deal with all this stuff, it’s going to get a lot worse,” she pointed out. “She was obviously attracted to that whole Big Bad thing, so she shouldn’t complain when you’re just being honest, even if she doesn’t agree with you.”
“Actually, she’s more attracted to the Sweet Boyfriend thing,” he clarified.
Anya gave him a skeptical look. “Please, she saw the leather and the bleach, and she went ‘Yum! Gotta get me some of that!’”
He chuckled at Anya’s imitation of Elizabeth’s hair swish. “Don’t think she’d quite see it that way,” he sighed.
“If she wanted straight-laced and boring, she would have stuck with Finn,” Anya insisted. “But she didn’t want that. She wanted you, although god only knows why,” she teased.
“What is this?” he scowled. “Emasculate Spike Day?”
“When is it ever not Emasculate Spike Day?” she giggled.
“Anyanka…”
“William,” she shot right back.
He let it pass. “Whattaya think I should do?” he demanded instead.
Anya bit her lip and considered this for a while. “Wait on it,” she finally decided.
He groaned.
“I’m serious!” she insisted. “This is no time for that infamous impatience of yours.”
“But ‘ve been waiting for—”
“Not done yet!” she cut him off with a gentle thwack to the head. “Listen to me first and then you can talk. It will help you work on your waiting skills!” she concluded in an intentionally too-perky tone.
He narrowed his eyes but kept his lips zipped.
“Now,” Anya began with all the pomposity of a distinguished lecturer, “it seems to me that Elizabeth is generally pretty unsure about what she wants or feels. She got involved with Riley because he was there, and even though she wasn’t really interested, she just stuck around because she was too indecisive about what to do.”
Spike’s eyes widened in alarm at that, but Anya cut him off before he could speak.
“No, I do not think that she’s in the same situation with you,” she hurried to reassure him. “She’s definitely interested – was even back while Riley was still in the picture. She knew she liked you, but again she was indecisive. If you hadn’t pursued her, I doubt anything ever would’ve happened between the two of you.”
Spike thought on that for a second, but came to no real conclusion. He began to shake his head…
“Who would you characterize as the ‘pursuer’ in your relationship?” Anya pointed out. “Who asked who out first? Who initiated your first kiss? Who initiated your first sexual encounter?”
“Oi, now, that last one,” he interrupted. “That was both ‘f us. Sorta a spontaneous sexual combustion situation.”
Anya grinned. “Knew you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for one minute,” she teased before continuing. “OK, so that part was both of you. But you seem to be the one that’s fallen in love first. Ergo, without you, things never would’ve gotten off the ground.”
“Maybe,” he conceded.
“And that’s why you just have to wait,” Anya concluded. “Everyone who sees the two of you together instantly knows how happy you are. It’s really only a matter of time until she realizes what that really means. And, just out of curiosity, when did you first tell her you loved her?”
“Right before we came back this term,” he answered.
“It took you that long to fully realize your feelings, and you honestly can’t believe that it might take her just a bit longer?” Anya asked pointedly.
He nodded. “Got me there,” he realized.
“Give her the chance to lead a bit,” Anya advised. “Keep helping her to finally admit how she feels about you, but your instinct is good – don’t push her. But don’t hide how you feel about all this, either.”
“Thank you, Oprah,” Spike teased.
“Humph.” Anya crossed her arms over her chest in an offended manner. “What brought on this dire mood in you anyway?” she wondered.
“ ‘Daddy’s coming to town this Friday,” Spike provided.
Anya’s eyes widened. “Quick, tie her down and get her pregnant before she can ditch you!” she exclaimed, trying not to laugh.
He gave her an annoyed scowl. “Have I mentioned lately how much I hate you?”
“Not since last semester.”
“I hate you,” he clarified, sticking his tongue out at her.
She stuck her tongue out back.
* * *
Tara gave Elizabeth’s hand an encouraging squeeze.
Elizabeth managed a small smile in response and looked around the crowded campus café. “I don’t think I can do this,” she insisted, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.
“He’s just your father,” Tara insisted. “It’s not like he’s going to kill you.” Her brow furrowed for a second. “Unless he happens to collect shotguns. In which case, it’s probably good to tell him that you’re a lesbian Wiccan who’s never, ever coming home again over the telephone. It’s always a good idea to be in non-lynching states when conversations like that occur…”
Elizabeth chuckled. “I’m pretty sure lynching is illegal,” she pointed out.
Tara shuddered. “You obviously haven’t met my family,” she countered.
Elizabeth gave her an apologetic smile, took a deep breath, and shifted nervously once more. “Why couldn’t he just keep it up with the whole absentee father bit?” she wondered, biting her lip. “I mean, the one time I actually don’t want him in my life, and suddenly he’s all intruding?”
“Control freak?” Tara suggested.
“Much,” Elizabeth agreed. She felt a shiver of tension run through her spine. “God, I can’t do this,” she repeated for the umpteenth time.
“You’re sure you don’t want Spike to be here?” Tara asked kindly. “It might be easier if you two presented a united front.”
Elizabeth laughed. “My dad may not own a shotgun, but he’d manage to miraculously pull one out of the ether if he ever saw Spike,” she declared. “Either that, or he’d call a mob hit.”
“You’re exaggerating,” Tara informed her. “No one’s going to kill anyone. And I really think it might make you feel better if—”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Elizabeth insisted with a weary smile. “Adding Spike to the mix is just likely to make my dad crazier.”
“Spike already seems to be a part of your ‘mix’,” Tara pointed out kindly.
But Elizabeth didn’t hear her. At that moment, her eyes locked on the slightly pudgy, middle-aged man that had just walked into the café, briefcase in one hand. Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt, she nervously took one step forward.
“Buffy!” Hank exclaimed in delight when he saw her.
Elizabeth winced at the use of the hated nickname in front of the campus population. “Daddy,” she agreed with a ghost of a smile…