#to some extent shit like rupert's ending and the general who was where in the bbq/beard's wedding and ...

[trentcrimminallybeautiful]

i think my main problem (aka why i am so insanely anxious) is that. after the finale i... kind of lost faith in the writing entirely? and now i'm afraid of What They Will Do With A Whole New Season. if this retroactively ruins a show i find flawed but still otherwise love i will be very upset. and i know that would be somewhat my own fault but like. gnaws

[marigoldbaker]

Bravery (24/27)

tbh that’s just a rough guesstimate but i’m getting so pumped about the fact that i’m closing in on the end of bravery that i wanted to put something in that wasn’t a question mark. gives it finality, y’know?? jfc i’m so happy

anyway!! it’s also on ao3

Rupert, bless him, categorized his books quite thoroughly, and it was easy for Jenny to find the library section on magic and the occult. Most of the books were just general magic theory and explanations of the kinds of spells that could be cast, but Jenny did find a few instructional books that might be of some use.

“Any luck?” Xander called, looking away from Willow, who was throwing punches. “Ow! Jeez, Will, I wasn’t looking.”

“Did it hurt?” Willow sounded excited. “I mean, sorry, but also that means I’m improving!”

“Yeah, my cheek’s really glad your fist is getting better at punching it,” Xander said dryly.

“Play nice,” Jenny reprimanded them with amusement. “I think we’re going to move on to stakes in a few days. You two seem to be getting the hang of the whole punching thing, as far as I can tell.”

“I can vouch for that,” Xander agreed, rubbing his cheek. “What’d you find?”

“Books,” Jenny quipped, and handed Willow one of the heavier volumes. “This one looks promising. We can check it out after we do the, uh, magical litmus test.”

“Isn’t that chemistry?” said Xander bemusedly. Willow giggled. “Am I missing something?” he asked her.

“She’s testing whether or not I’m basic!” said Willow, and giggled again. “Checking out if magic and I have chemistry!”

“You are enjoying this way too much for it to be a lesson,” Jenny informed Willow with an easy smile.

“You started it,” Willow volleyed back.

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Hop up on the table,” she said. “Xander, can you wait in the office?”

“Am I not allowed to be here?” Xander inquired, sounding like he was trying his best to sound joking.

“I just want to make sure Willow has a clear headspace for this,” Jenny explained. “That means as few people in here as possible. It’s not a lot, but—it could help if you’re outside. I’d go too if I didn’t have to orchestrate the—”

“Magical litmus test,” said Willow, and went into a giggle fit in the middle of clambering onto the table.

“Hey, magic’s a serious business,” Jenny informed her, but she felt the corners of her mouth twitch and knew Willow saw it. “Have you ever heard of a giggly witch?” This sobered Willow up, which made Jenny smile encouragingly. “You’ll be fine,” she said. “Just stay focused.”

“Focused,” Willow agreed nervously.

Xander very carefully exited the library. Jenny made a mental note to thank him later. “Magic is all about control and tranquility,” she said. “It’s another reason why I’m not that good at it. I tend to focus too much on my motivations and not enough on the present action of doing the spell.”

“But isn’t magic about doing spells?” Willow asked with a frown.

Jenny shook her head. “That’s one of the most common and dangerous misconceptions about magic,” she replied, sitting down next to Willow on the library table. “It isn’t a means to an end—it’s about being present and focusing in on the energy around you. You can’t use it like a tool, or you’ll start thinking of it as a skill, and then you start thinking that your goal is to master it.”

Willow was still frowning. “I thought it was something that could help us,” she said slowly.

“It is, if you learn how to control it,” Jenny replied, “and I have complete faith in your ability to do that.” She smiled encouragingly, and felt gratified when Willow returned it. “If it’s not a skill, though, Willow, are you still interested in it?”

Willow nodded, eyes bright. “Teach me,” she said.

Jenny held out her hands. Willow took them. “Think about something good,” she instructed. “Something that makes you happy.” She waited, and watched as Willow’s face relaxed slightly. “Now try and give that thought to me.”

“Is that—a thing I can do?” Willow asked hesitantly. “That seems pretty advanced.”

“Doubt won’t serve you well if you’re trying to control the energy around you,” Jenny replied. The truth of the matter was that Willow most likely couldn’t transfer thoughts to Jenny, but if she was centered enough, Jenny might get some kind of read on the level of power that Willow had. Magic was a lot like meditation, if you did it right; treating it like a weapon was a road Jenny didn’t want Willow to go down.

“But—”

“Trust me.” Jenny squeezed Willow’s hands reassuringly.

A small, sweet smile drifted over Willow’s face, and she didn’t object any further. Jenny closed her own eyes, focusing. Waiting.

Then, unexpectedly, she felt a soft warmth that began at her fingertips and traveled through her arms, directly to her chest. She tasted something sugary in her mouth, and thought she could feel the faintest hint of rain, even though it was warm in the library. Jenny was comforted, and almost forgot where she was, but then it clicked and she opened her eyes, jerking her hands away from Willow’s more out of surprise than anything.

“Did I do it wrong?” Willow asked anxiously, smile fading.

“No, um,” Jenny laughed nervously, “not, not exactly. Willow, what were you trying to send me?”

Willow turned pink. “Well—last September, Buffy and I went on a rain walk that day it got all drizzly but it was still sunny, you know? It was a sun shower. And Buffy got us strawberry milk, which she thought was a little weird, but I thought it was nice. We got all giggly over this cute boy in her gym class and it was—fun. Normal. No vampire talk, no tense Buffy, just us.”

Jenny remembered that particular day. She’d forgotten her umbrella, and she’d avoided leaving school until she’d had to, only to find Rupert waiting on the front steps with a shy smile and an umbrella big enough for two. They’d held hands all the way down the stairs, and she’d kissed him on the cheek before getting into her car.

But that wasn’t the point. She drew in a breath and tried not to think about the way Rupert had blushed as she’d straightened his scarf. “You might have more potential than I was expecting,” she said. “You shouldn’t have been able to transfer anything to me, but—”

“Did you get it?” Willow’s eyes were wide and awed.

“Yes and no.” Jenny smiled ruefully. She suddenly missed that tranquil warmth, and wished she’d appreciated it more while she’d had it. “I got the way you felt that day.”

“And that’s—”

“Pretty unusual for a novice. You should be proud.” Jenny straightened up, running a hand through her hair. Rupert’s fingers always caught in the tangles, and he’d tease her about not combing, and shit this was not the time for her to get weird and nostalgic. She drew in a breath. “I think I’m going to have to re-evaluate my lesson plan.”

“Really?” Willow sounded delighted. “Am I good?”

“I really don’t want you to focus on how good you are at this,” Jenny said carefully. “Magic can be hugely corrupting, especially if you’re exposed to it too young.” At Willow’s slightly crestfallen expression, she amended, “But yes. You are good.”

Willow beamed. Then, carefully schooling her face into a neutral expression, “Of course, that’s not the point, though.”

“You got it.” Jenny smiled at her. “Look, do you mind if I take a minute? I think I left some things in my classroom. Just—stay here with the candles and try and think happy thoughts. Practice sending them places. You can infuse a whole room with good feelings if you do it right.”

Willow closed her eyes obligingly, still smiling softly as Jenny left the room.

Jenny headed into her classroom, unlocked her desk drawer, and took out the photo strip from the monster truck rally. Rupert in his blue suit, supremely uncomfortable in the first photo, smiling softly at her in the second as she made funny faces at the camera. She’d had to catch her breath when she saw the pictures for the first time, because she’d never had anyone look at her like that.

It was intoxicating to be beloved, to the extent that maybe she’d overlooked some problems with Rupert’s overly simplistic view of her. But that didn’t change the fact that she missed him—not just as a lover, but as a friend. He’d made her smile so easily, and that wasn’t something that had happened before she’d known him. Jenny let her thumb trace Rupert in the last picture—his bright, genuine smile as she playfully pressed her lips to his cheek—and then she let the picture fall back into the drawer. This was the last time she’d let herself miss him.

Giles picked up the rose quartz necklace, let the light catch it. It didn’t feel like anything, for all the dramatic gestures it had been involved in. It couldn’t mean anything to him, even knowing that Jenny had wanted him to have it.

Healing powers, she’d said, as though that would fix all the things left broken by Angelus. For all his idealization, it always felt like Jenny was the optimist. He put the necklace back in his pocket; he still couldn’t wear it close to his chest. It felt strange and clingy enough to carry around a piece of jewelry technically given by an ex as a goodbye gift.

He was still in Los Angeles. He wasn’t sure where else to go. He was searching for Buffy, still, but only halfheartedly; Jenny’s words had stuck with him. He hadn’t considered what would happen when he found her, only that he wanted to find her, and now that he knew she was alive, the search seemed to have lost its urgency. Out of obstinacy, he’d stuck by the idea to bring Buffy home by any means necessary for a day or two, but the desire to prove Jenny wrong had faded with his resentment and anger.

She was right. Buffy had been through so much, and really did need some time to process it in any way that she could. Giles bringing her back would do nothing for anyone—the Council would be stuck with an indifferent, rebellious Slayer, and he would be stuck with a girl who no longer trusted him. He couldn’t think too much about the fact that he no longer thought of Buffy as a Slayer. There were too many other things he had to work on before addressing that.

Giles looked around the small, sparsely furnished hotel room. He wondered if, given the chance, he’d change the way this summer went, and wished he could say with certainty that he could. Some resentful, childish part of him still desperately wanted to be right about all this.

Is it better to be right, he thought, or to feel a part of a family? He’d seen Jenny on the beach, long before she’d noticed him. He’d had to stop walking and stare for a moment at the wind blowing her hair, the unrestrained joy on her face as she laughed with Willow. Whether or not she was right about his idealization of her, she had stayed with the children, and she was clearly happier for it—as were they.

Jenny was brave in a way he couldn’t possibly imagine. Perhaps it was time to deviate from the rules and take a leaf out of her book, because his own didn’t seem to be doing all that well for him.

Giles hesitated, and headed over to the bureau. If he did pack, now, and go home—to Sunnydale, he corrected himself, because it still wasn’t clear whether he had a home to go back to anymore—he of course wouldn’t expect some sort of magical, beautiful reconciliation with Jenny. It would be messy, and he’d have to face a lot of justified anger. He’d have to prove to Willow and Xander that he cared about them, and prove to Jenny that he believed in her.

And if he could do that—

Giles thought of Jenny and drew in a sharp, shaking breath. He wondered how on earth she’d managed to restore Angelus’s soul when she’d been just as isolated and lonely as he was right now. He missed her, and being a part of her life in any capacity would be enough for him.