Archive of Our Own

“So, what’s up?” Buffy announces her presence by asking, striding into Jenny’s classroom as the rest of the students are clearing out of the halls, leaving school grounds and going home. Buffy is bubbly and bright this afternoon, no sign of the weight of the world that rests so heavily on her shoulders. Looking at her now, Jenny could almost forget. “Giles said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

“I do,” Jenny confirms. “Come in, have a seat.” She walks past Buffy, gently shutting the door so they can have this conversation in private, reducing the typical end of day racket of shouts and laughter to a slightly quieter background noise. But when she turns around, Buffy is still standing up.

“Am I in trouble?” Buffy asks, joking, her mouth tilted upward in amusement.

“No, of course not,” Jenny says easily.

“So, what’s the what?” Buffy asks, sitting on top of the desk across from Jenny’s, casually crossing one leg over the other. “One of Giles’ books put another demon on the internet? Some spooky dead thing possessed your computer and it keeps deleting all your files and disrupting your classes? Your students are getting picked on and you want their bullies to be taught a lesson? Whatever you need, I’m your Slayer.”

Of course that’s what Buffy would think. Jenny feels a twinge of guilt that she hasn’t spent much time with Buffy before now, that Buffy assumes Jenny wanting to speak with her is strictly business. She talks to the kids sometimes, but that’s the kids. As in several of them at once. Plural. Like when they’re all in a group, talking in the halls or helping research this week’s demon. She rarely talks to them one-on-one and when she has, it’s usually been with Willow. “This isn’t actually about slaying. Not exactly, at least.”

“Oh,” Buffy says, her carefree attitude dissipating as she shifts uneasily.

Jenny takes a moment to perch on the edge of her desk, getting situated while she tries to decide what to say next. She also takes advantage of an opportunity to slip off her heels. She hopes that helps put Buffy at ease a little. They’re not teacher and student, they’re two people hanging out. (Realistically this will probably help very little, but Jenny’ll take all the help she can get before heading into this conversation she doesn’t know how to have.) Also she’s been standing for hours, checking over the shoulders of her students to inspect their progress, making sure they’re actually working on class assignments, and her feet are aching. She has no idea how Buffy wears those shoes all day and sometimes doesn’t even change before patrol. “So, here’s the thing,” Jenny says, folding her hands together in her lap so she can’t fidget.

“Oh. I am in trouble, aren’t I?” Buffy asks dejectedly, her shoulders slumped, no longer joking. She perks right up a moment later. “Wait, why am I in trouble with you? I’m not even in one of your—”

“You’re not in trouble,” Jenny interrupts hastily, regretting that they’re getting off to a rough start. She doesn’t want Buffy to get the wrong idea here, but she has no idea how to approach this conversation, and she had so little time to prepare.

Rupert had reached out to Jenny earlier in the day, asking her to talk with Buffy. Apparently Buffy’s started getting winded more easily during their training sessions, sometimes even passing out. He was all worked up about it, pulling out dusty old books to research whatever was making his Slayer sick, when Buffy reluctantly approached him. Eyes downcast and cheeks red, she explained in what was, based on the way Rupert described it, a very brief, stilted, entirely one-sided conversation that she wasn’t sick; she was experimenting with chest binding and had apparently wrapped whatever she was using too tight. She was having trouble getting the materials and process right, finding a balance between something that made her feel comfortable with her appearance and something that still allowed her to do things like move and breathe. And then, before Rupert could respond, she ran off. Things can’t stay as they are for the sake of Buffy’s safety, but Rupert is reluctant to try to talk to Buffy again, so he asked Jenny to intervene.

Jenny had tried to protest, but Rupert was having none of it. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have this conversation with Buffy; the opposite was true. She really wanted to help as this was something that was significant and relatable to Jenny, and therefore something she felt strongly about getting right, making Buffy feel at ease. Also this obviously needed to be handled delicately in a way that didn’t make Buffy feel ashamed, and based on Rupert’s earlier discomfort and fumbling, Jenny reluctantly agreed he shouldn’t be handling it alone.

Despite being a better resource for Buffy, Jenny’s involvement in this conversation still felt wrong to her. She wanted to be having this conversation because Buffy had chosen to open up to her, not because Rupert had arranged for them to talk. Jenny’s had so few normal conversations with Buffy that she doesn’t know if Buffy would even be willing to open up to her at all. Especially because this is so deeply personal and shouldn’t have even been shared with Jenny by anyone other than Buffy herself. But, regardless of how they got here, if Rupert isn’t going to talk to her about this, Jenny will. Buffy clearly needs someone to talk to, and her safety and wellbeing are what’s most important.

Jenny may not have a personal relationship with Buffy, nor the slightest clue how to approach this, but it’s obvious Buffy trusts and is comfortable with Rupert, so Jenny tries to emulate him, to include him and his worries with her own. “You’re not in trouble,” she repeats again for emphasis. “It’s just that Rupert told me what’s been going on in your training sessions. And we’re both worried—”

Approaching this like Rupert was maybe not the right call. Buffy’s face turns bright red, embarrassed. “He-he told you about that?” She asks disbelievingly. “He told you?” She repeats, her voice cracking right down the middle as her eyes start to swim with tears. “That was private,” she emphasizes. And then, ducking her head, in an impossibly small voice she adds, “I trusted him. I thought…”

“Buffy,” Jenny tries, getting off the desk and taking a step closer to her, stopping when Buffy curls in on herself further, her eyes carefully trained on the floor. “Rupert messed up. He should have never violated your trust like that. And I told him as such,” Jenny reassures her. She had really let him have it, in spite of them both knowing that Rupert was only trying to do the right thing, to get Buffy the help and resources she needs to explore and experiment without hurting herself.

“No,” Buffy agrees, her voice hard. “He shouldn’t have.”

“But he had a good reason. He was only trying to keep you safe.”

Jenny’s surprised when Buffy looks up and laughs, coldly. “The guy who sends me to fight vampires every night is trying to keep me safe? That’s hilarious. Tell me another one.”

“Buffy, Rupert only wants—”

“To keep me safe? Yeah, I heard you the first time.” Buffy gets to her feet. “But it’s not really about keeping me safe. Giles wants me to be safe so I can keep being the Slayer. Well, sorry to disappoint, but I can’t be what he wants. I can’t.” In spite of her anger, Buffy’s voice cracks again, shattering under the weight of clothes’ expectations.

Jenny’s fingers itch to reach for her and comfort her, though she can tell that wouldn’t be welcome right now. Her own chest aches in sympathy because she knows that pain of feeling like a disappointment. After a while, the words and expectations others throw at you stop bouncing off your back and instead work their way beneath your skin, seeping into the very core of you and rotting out your insides, poisoning you against yourself until there’s nothing left but skin and bones and your own self-loathing. Jenny’s lived it herself. She wishes she could convince Buffy how untrue it is to think of herself that way. It’s so, so obvious to her how much Rupert cares for Buffy, how much he struggles with his need to protect her and put her first when his duties as her Watcher and the fate of the world often require him to do the exact opposite.

Buffy continues in that same hurt-fractured voice, “You know who they’re supposed to choose as Slayers? Girls. Always girls. Every. Single. One of them. At least, that’s what Merrick told me when I asked. I haven’t asked Giles yet, not that it matters. I’m sure he’d say the same.”

“Who is—”

“ I’m not a girl,” Buffy says firmly, her chin lifting in defiance, daring Jenny to try and contradict her. “So don’t waste your time. I can’t be what Giles wants. I learned that the day I met him.” She glances away to discreetly swipe the hurt-filled tears off her cheeks.

“You can,” Jenny tries to reassure her, taking another step closer, “You are. Rupert couldn’t ask for a better—”

“What is this?” Buffy snaps, her earlier teary gaze transforming into nothing but anger as she gestures around the room. “What the hell is this? An intervention?”

“What you’re doing to your body is—” Jenny tries again, wincing when Buffy misunderstands her.

“You can skip the lecture,” Buffy says, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and trying to stand taller. “Believe me, I’ve heard it all before.” Buffy takes on a mocking tone, imitating someone, “‘What you’re doing to your body is so unnatural,’ or, ‘this is all internalized misogyny.’” Buffy resumes her regular voice, “So why don’t you just go and tell Giles you did all the yelling for him and we’ll leave it at that? I don’t understand why any of this is your business anyway.” Buffy adds with a glare, hurrying toward the door and reaching for the doorknob.

Before Buffy can storm out of here Jenny blurts, “I can understand what you’re going through.” Buffy’s hand stills on the doorknob, and Jenny relaxes her tone, saying the next part with more calm and less urgency. “Or maybe I can’t. After all, we’re completely different people. Sure, the people in my life also expect me to be a girl and I’m also not, but that doesn’t mean everything we’re feeling is the same. I don’t have some supernatural calling forcing me into that role.” Jenny’s been forced into roles herself, she also only came to Sunnydale because of a role she didn’t choose, but now is really not the time to mention that, if she ever decides to at all. “I’m not going to assume I know what you’re experiencing if I haven’t even tried talking to you. But I care about you, so I’m going to try.”

Buffy still won’t turn around but Jenny can tell she’s listening, hanging on every word. Her fingers release the white-knuckle grip she had on the doorknob, her arm returning to her side, her head slightly turned to the side like she’s trying to see Jenny without having to face her.

Jenny continues, “I understand that you’re hurt. I would be too. And I know how we got here is messed up. But you can’t expect me to say nothing while you’re binding with Ace bandages and passing out,” Jenny adds. Rupert wasn’t positive on what Buffy’s using, but he did mention that they’d gone missing from the first aid kit, so it seems like a logical conclusion to have drawn. Especially since Buffy doesn’t contradict her. “You’re doing it wrong, and you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I was already hurting myself,” Buffy says, her voice so soft that Jenny can hardly hear her. “It felt like I was…” Buffy trails off, tries again. “I mean, it was the only thing that…”

“I understand,” Jenny says, because she does.

Buffy finally turns, meeting Jenny’s eyes, studying her. She takes a deep, shaky breath. “I don’t understand why everyone is trying to take this away from me.”

“I’m not,” Jenny promises her. “I’m just trying to teach you how to do this without breaking any ribs.”

“How do you know all of this?” Buffy asks, curious but still hesitant. Cautious. Like she’s still not completely convinced this isn’t a lie or an elaborate scheme to trap her.

“When I was your age, I was doing the same thing. Except I didn’t have anyone teaching me how at first. And I made a lot of very painful mistakes.”

Buffy lets out a small, surprised laugh. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, using her hand to cover her smile. “That isn’t funny or happy o-or good—I shouldn’t be—I mean I’m not, well, I am but I’m—I mean you just said you too so I-I should’ve already known that you really meant it, but–but this is you too and…” Buffy lets out another small, positively joyful giggle, and Jenny can’t help but smiling widely back at her, sharing in the overwhelming euphoria Buffy must be experiencing at finally finding someone who can understand her, who not only actually sees her but can relate to her.

Buffy isn’t the first person Jenny’s met who is accepting or even the first person Jenny’s met who felt the same way as Jenny did, but it’s still wonderful, every single time. Seeing yourself and your own experiences reflected in someone else—especially when most of society is trying to tell you that what you’re feeling is wrong or not true or even that your own lived reality isn’t even real—it’s nothing short of incredible. Thinking you’re the only one, thinking there must be something wrong with you…it’s so isolating. You’ve felt this way your whole life, drowning in your own solitary experiences, and then for the first time ever, you aren’t alone anymore. There’s someone there to take your hand and teach you how to swim. “You don’t have to apologize,” Jenny says, reaching for Buffy’s hand.

A myriad of emotions flit across Buffy’s face, so quickly that Jenny only registers a couple of them: hope, longing, joy, hesitation. The one Buffy settles on is disbelief, all traces of joy fading. Buffy removes her hand from Jenny’s, shoving her hands in her pockets, and Jenny drops her hand back to her side. “But…” She glances at Jenny’s obviously unbound chest, then back up to Jenny’s face, her cheeks pink. Asking without asking.

“When I was your age,” Jenny repeats softly.

“So, you’re trying to tell me that it’s ‘just a phase’ and I’ll get over it when I’m older?” Buffy asks, a hint of that angry, defiant Slayer returning. Jenny sees how Buffy manages to give Rupert so much trouble, and she loves her for it.

“You might,” Jenny admits. “Or you might not. I don’t know what’ll happen for you. I didn’t get over it.”

“But…” All of that fire goes out of Buffy’s eyes, until nothing but emptiness remains. Her posture sags out of her defensive stance, and she looks like she’s barely managing to keep upright. “So it doesn’t get better when you’re a grown up? Like, people still stop you?”

Oh. Jenny would give anything to put that hope back in Buffy’s eyes. “It does get better,” she hastens to reassure Buffy. “So much better.”

“How? I mean, you still want to, but you’re not—”

“Not right now, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need this job.”

Buffy’s mouth twists unhappily. “If you can’t do what you want o-or be who you want at work, then how does it get better?” Buffy asks. Her arms are wrapped around herself again, but it’s less about being defensive and more about trying to hold herself together. “What’s the point if we can never…?” And Jenny notes Buffy’s statements shifting from you to we. Including herself.

Jenny sits back on the desk, patting the space beside her. Buffy walks over and takes a seat. “The world isn’t perfect,” Jenny admits. “It’s getting better for…For people like us. People who don’t fit so easily into the boxes society expects us to. But better doesn’t mean it’s always easy. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do, make sacrifices, for things like work.”

“That’s such bullshit!” Buffy exclaims, pinking slightly and looking at Jenny like she’s expecting to get chastised.

“It can really fucking suck,” Jenny agrees, giving Buffy a mischievous smile which Buffy happily returns, her cheek curling upward when she grins. Yeah, Jenny thinks, I may be a grownup but I’m not that kind of grownup. “But what makes it better is finding the people you can be your real self around, and surrounding yourself with them. And when you have those people, it’s worth it. You’ll feel so much better then. I promise.”

“How?” Buffy questions, sniffling. “How do you find them?”

“Well,” Jenny says carefully, “I’m talking to one of them right now. And so are you. So I’d say you already found one.” After a moment she quickly amends, “At least one. Your friends, you haven’t talked to any of them about this?”

Buffy shakes her head. “I don’t know how. That’s why I started doing…” Buffy’s voice gets even quieter like she’s embarrassed, “what I was doing during training, ‘cause it’s the only place I can. I was just sort of hoping Giles wouldn’t notice. He doesn’t notice anything I wear other than to insult it or tell me how ‘inappropriate’ it is for slaying so,” she says with finger quotes and a shrug.

“You can’t at home?” Jenny questions softly, though she thinks she already knows the answer.

Buffy shakes her head again. “Can you at home?” She asks, brightening, full of eager curiosity for knowledge about this world where it gets better for people like Buffy and Jenny once you’re no longer in high school.

Jenny nods, giving Buffy a small smile. “I can. My home is all mine now that I’m an adult. I can bind when I’m home alone, or with some of my friends—”

“And with Giles?” Buffy interrupts. “Does he let you?”

“Buffy, Rupert doesn’t let me do anything. Obviously certain people or organizations like your parents or my work can try to control us but friends a-and partners should never be doing that. The good ones, the right ones—they’ll support you, always. It’s my body. I can do whatever I want with it,” Jenny says firmly. “And if Rupert wants to date me, he’ll respect that.” Jenny frowns as something occurs to her, “Has anyone in your life not been respecting your boundaries?”

Buffy flushes slightly and she starts to fidget anxiously, but instead of answering she changes the subject, “You didn’t answer my question. Giles is okay with dating someone who isn’t a girl?”

“And you didn’t answer mine,” Jenny points out wryly. “I wanna come back to that, but I’ll let it slide for now. So, to answer your question…” Jenny takes a deep breath and now it’s her turn to glance away. “I haven’t talked to Rupert yet. I haven’t even tried.”

“Why not?”

Jenny meets Buffy’s gaze again, “Probably for the same reason you haven’t told any of your friends yet. It can be scary, telling people who you really are.”

Buffy nods, and it makes Jenny’s heart ache that Buffy can understand this. “Because what if they don’t like you anymore? Or they freak out? Or they tell other people and then everyone knows? It’s easier not to tell.” Buffy rambles, toying with the zipper on her bag, “At least then people still like you. Except then you wonder if that’s even really true, since the person they like isn’t the real you. So maybe they only like the fake you, so you have to pretend to be this fake you forever so they won’t stop liking you because that would hurt. Except then all of the pretending starts to hurt too so it hurts either way. Everything hurts all the time,” Buffy concludes matter-of-factly.

“Those things you were saying earlier,” Jenny probes gently, “your mother said them to you?”

“Yeah. She caught me a couple of times. You know. Binding,” Buffy gets quieter, saying the word like she’s trying it out for the first time. Like it’s new. “I tried to talk to her about it later when there was less surprise and yelling and getting in trouble but…It didn’t go well. Obviously,” Buffy adds with a bitter laugh, pretending not to care even though she so obviously does. “There was a lot more yelling.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenny says, as genuinely as possible. She reaches for Buffy but then thinks better of it, dropping her hands back in her own lap.

Buffy gives a one-shouldered shrug. “She thinks I do it because I hate myself. I tried to explain that the only time I don’t hate myself is when I bind, but that only made her more upset.” Before Jenny can respond to that, Buffy asks, full of curiosity again, “How did your family take it? Did they get upset too?”

“Yes and no,” Jenny admits. “Some of them tried to stop me,” Jenny says, thinking specifically of Uncle Enyos. “Most of them just didn’t notice, or didn’t care, and so they let me do what I wanted. Some handled it better than others.” They may have let her do what she wanted, and Jenny’s grateful for that because she knows it could’ve been worse, but negligence and disinterest are far from the love, support, and acceptance she so desperately wanted. She can see the same desperation reflected back at her in Buffy’s eyes now. There was no one who stood up for her or who protected Jenny when Uncle Enyos started yelling. But Jenny doesn’t need to burden Buffy with all of those details. And she’s determined, now that she knows what’s going on in Buffy’s life, that Buffy’s experiences are going to change. She’ll always have Jenny in her corner. “My family didn’t handle it the best,” Jenny admits. “But then I got to go to college, and have my own place. I got to make friends who accept me. And I have many more of them on the internet.”

Buffy sniffles. “I would try to talk to her again but…I can’t risk it. My family, it’s just me and my mom now. I already made my dad leave.” Buffy sniffles again. “I can’t lose her too.”

“Buffy,” Jenny says, reaching for and taking her hand again, “you didn’t make anybody leave.”

“You don’t know that,” Buffy argues, extricating her hand from Jenny’s. “I mean, people say that, but it’s not like they were there.”

“Maybe not, but I know I’m right,” Jenny says firmly. “Your parents separating was not your fault.”

“They only ever fought about me,” Buffy mutters, chin tilted downward.

“Maybe those were the fights you overheard but—”

“I guess I’m kind of a lot. I mean, even before the slaying and burning down buildings and getting kicked out of school, I was pretty disappointing as a daught—kid,” Buffy concludes firmly with a small I can say this now smile, and, in spite of her adamantly disagreeing with the rest, it does make Jenny happy to see that Buffy already feels comfortable gendering herself correctly in Jenny’s presence.

“When people decide to become parents, they have to prepare themselves for all sorts of possibilities. Parents may have dreams for who they want their kids to grow up to be, but it’s really rare for a kid to live up to all of their expectations. It’s just not fair for parents to place that burden on their kid’s shoulders. The best way to be a parent is to listen when your kid tells you who they are. Your parents might’ve wanted a daughter, or someone who isn’t a Slayer, but that’s on them. It’s not on you, okay?” Jenny touches Buffy’s cheek, making sure she’s really listening to this next part. “You’re perfect exactly like this, and you shouldn’t have to change anything about yourself to feel wanted.”

Buffy smiles for half a second, and then her entire face crumples, the tears she’s been holding back finally slipping down her cheeks, her breath coming in little hiccuping gasps. “I’m s-sorry,” she apologizes, “I didn’t—mean to—”

Jenny squeezes Buffy’s hands before releasing them so she can search her desk for tissues. “It’s okay to cry.” Jenny gets to her feet, digging around in her desk drawers. Surely she has tissues?

Buffy wipes at her eyes even though tears are continuing to fall, taking these big gasping breaths of air between words. “It’s just—I know you d-didn’t mean it and—you were just being nice, b-but it was really nice to hear and—I can’t remember the last time s-someone said something that nice to m-me so—even if it’s not real—it means a lot, and—”

Jenny looks up into Buffy’s eyes, her search for tissues forgotten. “What? Of course I meant it. I wasn’t lying to you. You’re perfect. Anyone would be lucky to have you as their kid,” Jenny stresses. “Including me.”

For some reason, this only makes Buffy cry harder. “You can’t—don’t say that!” Buffy sobs, “You wouldn’t want me—you can’t! You don’t even know me! And I’m—”

“Of course I would,” Jenny insists, getting to her feet and grabbing both of Buffy’s hands again and holding them tight. “I mean, I’m not nearly old enough to be your parent,” she says, making Buffy laugh a little through her tears. “And maybe I don’t know you very well yet. But I know that I want to. I just didn’t know how to get to know you. If you can believe it, I was afraid you wouldn’t like me.”

That makes Buffy laugh again, harder this time, though it doesn’t last long. “Of course I like y-you—don’t be stupid. You’re totally likeable! But—you can’t like me that much. I mean—how could you?” Buffy’s crying starts to descend into hysterics, pushing away Jenny’s hands and ignoring any attempts to interrupt. “First my own dad doesn’t—a-and then m-my mom—a-and now—Giles—and I know I’m not supposed to—because he’s my Watcher—and—not actually my dad—but I love him like—a-and he doesn’t—love me back.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jenny says, unable to resist hugging her any longer and immediately wrapping Buffy up in her arms. “That’s simply not true. Rupert does love you, of course he does,” she insists while Buffy just shakes her head against Jenny’s shoulder. “Maybe he hasn’t said it, but I know he loves you. Don’t take it personally, even I can’t make him talk about these things and I’m dating him. Honestly, he can be completely hopeless at expressing his feelings, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it. And it certainly doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with you,” Jenny reassures her, stroking Buffy’s hair.

Buffy pulls back to look at Jenny, her face all wet and teary. “Maybe he l-loved me but I think I r-ruined it—He’s so d-disgusted with me and what I’m doing—with the binding things—he couldn’t bear to talk to m-me himself. He had to pawn me off on you because—”

“Is that what you think?” Jenny asks, horrified. No wonder Buffy’s so upset. She feels like an idiot for letting Buffy think that.

Buffy’s still taking shaky breaths, trying to get her breathing under control. “What else am I s-supposed to think? I mean—the only other time h-he was so upset about something that he literally c-couldn’t t-talk to me, it was because he found—there was this prophecy that said I-I was gonna—so obviously this must be r-eally bad—it’s like death levels of bad—to him.” Buffy takes a big, shuddering breath, “Do you think—does he wish—”

“No,” Jenny says firmly, lifting Buffy’s chin so Buffy will meet her eyes. “Absolutely not. Don’t you dare even think that. Not even for a second. Do you know what it would do to him if he lost you?”

“He’s going to,” Buffy says softly, her face tear-stained and puffy. “I’m the Slayer.”

“It’s possible,” Jenny admits with a heavy exhale, because Buffy’s already died once and lying to her would be pointless. “He probably is. But first he’s going to move heaven and Earth to make sure it’s not a second sooner than it has to be. Do you realize how freaked out he was when he thought you were sick or being hurt by some spell?”

“Yeah. But he couldn’t even look at me when I told him what was actually going on.”

“He couldn’t look at you or you couldn’t look at him?”

Buffy’s eyes widen slightly in realization.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jenny teases.

“It was just so embarrassing,” Buffy says in her defense.

“It shouldn’t be,” Jenny says gently. “There’s nothing wrong o-or shameful about wanting to bind. You know that, right?”

The look on Buffy’s face clearly conveys how much she does not know that. She changes the subject, “When he realized it wasn’t a spell he stopped worrying.”

“No, he didn’t. He just brought all of his worries to me. Buffy, Rupert completely supports you. He didn’t say a single thing to me about trying to convince you to stop binding.”

“Oh.” For the first time since she started crying, her eyes are shining with hope again.

“Yeah,” Jenny pushes Buffy’s hair back behind her shoulders. “He just wants to make sure you’re not hurting yourself in the process, so he asked me to help you find a safe way to do it.”

“How’d he know to ask you? I mean, if you haven’t talked about it, how did he know that you’d know?”

“He didn’t,” Jenny admits. “He asked me to use that dreaded box to look something up to help you,” Jenny gestures to the computer, making Buffy let out a peal of bright laughter. “He just doesn’t know the first thing about having breasts. And I think he thought you’d be more comfortable talking about this to someone who’s also…” Jenny hesitates slightly, suddenly realizing that Buffy has only expressed what she isn’t. If she knows how she identifies, she hasn’t shared that with Jenny.

Buffy mutters something under her breath.

“What?”

Buffy blushes. “I said ‘a non-girl.’ I don’t really know…But, that’s the way I think of myself. In my head.”

“A non-girl,” Jenny repeats thoughtfully. “I like it.”

Buffy shrugs, but her cheek is slightly curved into a smile. “There are probably actual words for it but I didn’t know how to find them, so I made up my own.”

“There are,” Jenny says. “I like your word for it though. But if you want, I’ll tell you what other people use. I’m happy to answer all of your questions. Or I’ll try at least.”

“Yes, please!” Buffy says excitedly, pulling her legs up onto the desk underneath her.

“Well—”

“Actually, wait!” Buffy says, gesturing with her hands for Jenny to pause. “I’m sorry. I wanna know everything—I have so many questions—but first, um, can you tell me about you?” Buffy shyly ducks her head. “I mean, if you want to and stuff. I just…all of the words are cool but those are like, textbooks and strangers and I just want…” Buffy trails off, looking sheepish, her eyes flitting to Jenny’s and then away again. “For so long, I thought it was just me. And now…”

“It’s not just you,” Jenny reassures her.

Buffy’s eyes go teary again, but it’s the happy, relieved kind this time. “It’s not just me,” she repeats, needing to hear it again. “It’s you, too.”

Jenny nods, taking Buffy’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “It’s me, too.”

After a moment, Buffy scoots closer, chattering excitedly, “How did you know? How old were you? Who did you tell? What did they say? Have you told any of your boyfriends? How did you tell them? What—”

“Wait, wait,” Jenny says, holding her free hand up in surrender, laughing. “One question at a time.”

Buffy starts to speak, but they’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Rupert opens it, sticking his head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid I require Buffy for some slaying,” he says, gesturing with an open book. “It is a matter of some urgency.” Then he disappears, hurrying back toward the library.

“Oh, great,” Buffy says sarcastically. “He’s probably found some prophecy of something that’s supposed to rise tonight and now I have to go spend my whole night waiting for it to show. I hate when he does that.” She slides off the desk, adjusting her bag where it lies on her shoulder.

Jenny gets to her feet as well, “Isn’t it better to know? Then you have time to prepare, rather than being caught off guard on patrol?”

“Yeah, you’d think,” Buffy says wryly, “but these prophecies are usually only fifty-fifty. Honestly I can’t tell if Giles’ calculations are off or if these ancient guys just like wasting my time.” Buffy starts to walk toward the door but she turns back to add, “Please don’t tell Giles I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Jenny promises. “As is everything we’ve talked about.”

Buffy smiles. “I won’t tell Giles either. That’s yours to tell.”

Jenny smiles back, “Thank you. I know we didn’t get to finish our conversation, so maybe we can do this again sometime. If you want to, that is.” It’s important to Jenny that it be Buffy’s choice next time, rather than her feeling blindsided and attacked again.

Buffy’s eyes light up. “Really?” Then she adds, hesitant, “I mean, I don’t wanna be a bother. I know you’ve gotten to talk to people about this kind of stuff before so I’m probably being way too excited and—”

“Not at all!” Jenny quickly reassures her. “You’re never a bother. Tell you what, I’ll talk to Rupert and we’ll pick a day next week where you can skip training and you can come hang out at my place instead. We’ll order a pizza and talk some more. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect,” Buffy says, grinning from ear to ear. “I love getting out of training!” She jokes. Jenny rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

“Buffy!” Giles calls from the hallway.

“I’d better go,” Buffy says. She hesitates in the doorway, apparently indecisive. Then she turns around and hurries back to Jenny, wrapping her up in a hug. “Thank you,” Buffy says, squeezing tighter.

“You’re welcome,” Jenny says, hugging Buffy back just as fiercely. “No more binding with Ace bandages. Next time we talk, we’ll figure out something better.”

“Right. Okay, I promise.”

“And Buffy?”

“Hmm?”

“Stop by to talk anytime. I mean it. I’ll always be here for you when you need me.”