102 - A Message Made From Bones

22

Her eyes flare, and Jay has half a mind to challenge her further - his Slayer rages, and so does hers. Let them tussle if it'll alleviate the tension sharpening every line of her.

"I'll only say this once, and then I will prove it, Illyria. I have not, am not, and will never use the Slayer Dreamscape to manipulate your feelings," he continues, looking at her with equal intensity. "And I am sorry for... for the confusion it must've caused."

Maybe it is the apology, or perhaps the realization that he is just as vulnerable to her in the Dreamscape as she is to him, that makes her break his stare.

She's silent long enough that he says, "I shouldn't have visited you again... but I was... impatient."

She finally sighs, the rest of that tension melting out of her. "If I really didn't want you barging back into my Dreamscape, I could've locked you out." Her eyes slide to his, and in them, he sees the truth in that statement. She had to have figured out how to do that after the first time.

Then she continues, "You say you visited to check on me—why didn't you leave when you saw that I was fine?"

He opens his mouth, then closes it. Not knowing how to word it any differently, he merely says, "To see what sorts of things you experienced under Buffy's command," and prays to whatever gods are observing that Lily won't take it the wrong way.

But her face changes infinitesimally, and Jay notices her nails digging into her palms—right where there are faint crescent scars decorating her skin.

"If you want a history lesson," she responds tersely—and he gets the feeling that she's fighting the urge to slap him square across his face, "all you needed to do was ask."

True—Lily had offered their services. But he'd had no choice but to turn them away.

"I didn't have the power to allow you to stay. My mother is only allowing you here now because you saved Kai. Her head might explode if she hears one more thing about Buffy." He gives the basement door another sidelong glance, where Lenora is downstairs with Oz. He can already imagine the look on her face if she sees them together... but he doesn't give two shits what his mother thinks; he merely hopes Lily will leave to take care of her simmering temper. Or at least turn the heat down on it.

He is careful not to look at her as he drags his gaze to the piano keys. "Though I tried not to pry, I did feel what it was like."

"Feel what?" The irritation in her voice is palpable.

"The Organization. What it means to you. I felt, from you and a hundred other psyches, that my mother's opinions are rather biased," he finishes eventually.

Lily rolls her eyes. "I'm sure you knew we couldn't be as bad as your mother says."

Jay shakes his head—though she's right. "I'm the only one with the visions; it's not like I could've proved it. It surprised me to learn that you were an interesting person."

He realizes after it leaves his lips that it sounds somewhat backhanded, but color flushes Lily's cheeks. She dips her chin, her sheet of black hair falling in her face, and turns one hand over the other in her lap.

"I'm just full of surprises," she mumbles flatly.

Indeed, that mystery behind the darkness that smolders in her eyes is one he's certainly interested in uncovering—because it feels so similar to his own. A Slayer thing, perhaps.

"Illyria...," Jay says softly. Pleading, almost, as he grabs her hand, not giving her a chance to pull away, and tugs it until she looks at him. Her breath stills at her full name falling from his lips, at the gentle grip he has on her. He rests their hands on his thigh and, without moving them much, continues playing with her fingers. Her eyes lower to them, sadness shadowing her features. Like they shouldn't be touching.