fairfax-for-the-greater-good:

When she opened her eyes the next morning, Penelope wondered if she were waking up at her cottage in Devon and if the past four months had all been one dreadful nightmare. All the world had turned white while she slept. The wind roared like the sea at tide, the farthest trees she could see through the window looked like small dues, and the snow tumbling to the ground skated past her in a way she knew all too well. Could it be?

But her eye caught on the vodka bottle she had taken to her bed after Mr. Henson’s departure the other day; she observed the plain decor and differences of architecture, and finally a dull aching pain in her heart that carried more than guilt. There had been no dream. Penelope wetted her lips and reached for the bottle, gripping tight. There would be no more of this foolishness. No more weakness. She rose from the bed and chucked the bottle in the bin.

“Elaine!” She called, walking to her vanity and taking up her brush.

The woman opened the door and peered round, an oddly bright expression on her face, “Yes, my lady?”

Penelope turned, her face neutral except for her raised brow, “That would be ma’am, Elaine.” She gave a tight half-smile. “Now, I want you to have James ready the car. It’s a terror outside and I shouldn’t like to be stranded. There is work to be done, and not that much time to do it.”

“Of course, ma’am. Will there be anything else?” She turned her head to the side and gave a knowing look.

“Not just yet, thank you.”

“Very good, ma’am.” Elaine turned to leave but then stopped. “Shall I tell Mr. Henson you’re out if he comes ‘round today?”

Penelope put down the brush. “He won’t be coming ‘round today,” she said softly. “But if he does, you are to give him the utmost courtesy, just as you would myself or Mr. Giles. He is a good man.”

Elaine’s expression did not change, but she nodded anyways and murmured yes ma’am as she left and went to alert James.

Penelope sat in her chair and began applying her makeup, fiddling with her hair, trying to eye how it was deciding to fall down her neck best. She would wear it down today. Perhaps even fasten a woolen beret on top so as not to have it blowing about hither and tither in the wind. She would need her coat today, as well as her fine gloves. Her errands were small: mailing yet another letter to the Council for their help, searching for helpful texts regarding these glamours Ms. Lehane had told her of. The fact that the only two people in the city who could be recommended to her were an ensouled vampire and a troublesome witch did not escape her notice.

As she sauntered out the door she called for Elaine to fetch her necklace. It was an afterthought, of course, but she didn’t fancy going into the library to get it herself either. She did not wish to see the shelves, the overturned chair, or the door to liquor cabinet hanging precariously open. She did not want to look out yet another window that would make her pine for other places. Penelope only wished to see the slender box and the treasure she knew to be inside.

Her fingers gripped it tight as the car pulled out of the drive. It was not him, nor could it ever be. His hands had more reach than this simple chain, he never made her shiver with cold. Though she never felt frightened or small in his presence, she never felt an impenetrable distance between them either. She was simply Penelope, if such a person existed at least. Penelope.

The ghost of his rumbling voice murmuring her name echoed in her ear as she slid the chain about her neck. He was still the man she trusted most in the world. There were few, so precious few memories she had of him to cling to. But as she told him herself, they would have to suffice. He loved her. Rarely in so many words, but all the same it must still be true. When she thought of the last time they kissed the word she’d had so much trouble reaching for came readily to her mind.

But this warmth soon gave way to an ache more dangerous than the one she had awoken with. She had to put it aside now, she realized. She would not crack the resolve she had just summoned so soon. Penelope forced her hands away from the pendant and folded them primly in her lap.

They were nearly there now. These ices and snowdrifts were nothing compared to what he’d driven her through in England before. She was not impatient or anxious, although she was starting to pine for a certain feeling of accomplishment, of having done something good, however simple. And then, just as if in a story, Penelope saw the other car. Horridly damaged, the wheels spinning round to no avail.

“James,” she commanded. It was all she needed to say. James pulled over to the side and unlocked the doors. She saw him reach for his pistol before coming out and round to help her out. A small part of her wondered if he, like Elaine, was being a shade too protective but these were troubled times and one could not be too careful. She certainly did not fancy dying some tragic, common death today. There would be time for that later.

Penelope made her way to the car and peered through the window. Was that—“Ms. Summers?” She rapped lightly on the window to get the girl’s attention. “Ms. Summers!” Good Lord, she hadn’t been injured, had she? Penelope turned to James and gestured for him to put away that blasted gun for God’s sake before turning her attention back to Ms. Summers. She raised her hands to show that she meant no harm in case she hadn’t been heard and tried to mouth I’m here to help. 

Buffy had given up on trying to just drive away from this situation when, with a troubling crack, the gas pedal stopped working all together.  She still wasn’t breathing normally, which was really doing a number to her head.  Lightheaded as she was, she figured the smartest thing she could do at this pint would be to get out of the car.  Get out of the car and assess the damage.  Right?  She tried just pushing the door open but it just crumbled under the pressure eliciting a loud metallic screech.  She was trapped, genuinely trapped, in a way that even super strength couldn’t help.

She threw the steering wheel down into the passenger’s seat out of frustration.  Soon the car would run out of gas, turn off, and then she really would die.  The car was buried almost up to the window in snow and the cold was beginning to seep in through the cracks despite the fact that she had the heat turned all the way up.  With a head leaned back in exasperation she surveyed the area outside the car.  The view was beautiful and she was glad that the last thing she ever saw would be mountains of fluffy white snow covering everything; covering the trees, the signs, benches, roads, and bridges.  It fell gently onto the vehicle that seemed to be pulling over on the road a few hundred feet away.  A vehicle!  A vehicle, that meant people or person! Someone, anyone who could help her out of this.

A man and woman hopped out of the car, the woman looked familiar but Buffy couldn’t put a name to her face.  She watched as the brunette waded through the snow and toward her.  She was motioning to her and seemed to know Buffy, as she got closer Buffy was able to make out her face better.  Penelope Fairfax, that’s who it was.  She had yet to meet her in person, what a promising first meeting this would be.  She was supposed to be so powerful, and here she was stuck in the snow of all places.  She could read the words I’m here to help on Penelope’s lips.  Buffy didn’t question how or why Penelope was there, she was just thankful.  For the first time since the accident she let out a sigh and allowed herself to breathe normally.  "Dig me out!“ she yelled to Ms. Fairfax.  She didn’t want to seem demanding but it was getting really cold in there and she’d started to shiver just a bit.