Faetality |✓|

Chapter Sixteen, Part Three - Letting Go

"I feel bad. Should I really be going to this thing?" Margot asked, observing her reflection in the mirror above her dresser. 

            "Of course you should be going," I replied, genuinely taken aback.

            "But you're not going," she pointed out, spraying herself in a circular motion with my stolen perfume. "And with everything that's going on with you and what we just find out about Mom –"

            I shook my head, cutting off my sister.

            "Go to the dance. Have fun with Liam. That's all that you should be thinking about tonight."

            "She's right, y'know," interrupted our Dad, coming up behind me in the hallway. "Margie, you look beautiful. You tell this Liam to keep his hands to his self."

            Margot stared at her father as he stood beside me in her doorway and I could tell she was contemplating what reaction to give him. She was still mad at him (and frankly so was I) but I hoped the conversations we'd had the past night had helped her to understand why it was that Dad was keeping so many secrets. It had certainly helped me.

            "Thanks Dad," Margie replied, smiling back at him, and surprising us both.

*  *  *

Less than an hour later I could be found on the living room couch, mom's old afghan across my lap and a pint of pistachio ice cream in my hands. I admit, watching old re-runs of the Maury show, and alternately cheering and booing at the DNA test results probably wasn't my finest hour. But neither was being home on a Saturday night when I should've been at the dance with my friends. So it all evened out in the end.

"Hey kid, you sure you don't wanna go to the dance? I could drop you off."

Dad entered the living room, munching a bowl of spaghetti.

"Nope, I'm good," I replied, licking my spoon. "What about you? You're not seeing Erica tonight?"

Dad blushed.

"I was with her last night," he replied quietly.

"I know,"

Our eyes locked and I see the guilt written across his face. I pitied him. How could I be angry with him knowing what I did about Erica? That she was probably the Ice Queen's Knight, that she probably didn't love him, and that she was only using him to get closer to me. She had turned him into a fool and now he felt every bit as such, even if he didn't know the real reason why. I could hardly continue to fault him for that.

"Dad?" I said, as he began to turn away. "I'm really sorry,"

"For what?" he replied, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"For being a horrible daughter," I admitted. "For holding you to higher standards than I hold myself. I know you didn't tell us about the divorce and about Erica because you wanted to protect us. All you've ever done is take care of me and Margie. I should've remembered that."

Before I knew it was I standing, wrapped in Dad's arms, and feeling wonderfully light.

I am not a perfect father, and you are not a horrible daughter," he assured, kissing the top of my head.

He stepped away at the same time that I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out, read the incoming text and at once I felt the adrenaline kick in.

"Hey Dad, is it too late to get that ride?"

*  *  *

            "Honey, I could've given you time to change," Dad said, casting another sideways glance at my attire as he pulled his car up to the curb.

            I looked down at my winter coat, blue jeans and red Converse sneakers, knowing I was inappropriately dressed for the dance and still not caring. Lana's S.O.S hadn't permitted for a wardrobe change. And neither did a potential show-down with the Scavenger. I wasn't frickin' Buffy the Vampire Slayer and frankly, I had no desires to test my new skills in heels and a ballroom gown.

            "Nope, Dad, I'm good – honest," I replied, picking Lana out from the small scattering of students milling around the entrance to the school.

            I hopped out of the car, promising the usual – that I would be home in a timely manner, that I would be safe, I wouldn't do drugs, I wouldn't drink, yadda yadda yadda...

            He drove off and Lana came walking up, looking more nervous than if she was in the middle of a knife tornado. I had to admit, I felt bad for the girl.

            "Nice dress," I said aloud. A thin, black shawl was draped about her shoulders, covering a small portion of her simple black dress.

            "Thanks," she said, looking down at her shiny, dark flats. "Cute dress, but I'm seriously freezing."

            An awkward silence passed.

            "So I –"

            "Where is –"

            "No, you first," we said together.

            I sighed.

            "Really, Lana, you first,"

            "I want to apologize," she said quickly. "I understand why you'd be mad."

            "Well, thanks for the understanding," I icily replied. "So, do all your friends know you're a double secret agent?"

            Lana reddened.

             "I don't have other friends,"

            "I'm not gonna feel sorry for you," I replied, even though I already was. "You lied to me. I've been trying to protect Westley and you've been putting him in danger – behind my back. You knew who he was and didn't tell me. You've been spying on me, working with The Society all along. What kind of friend does that?"

            Lana remained silent, but was obviously close to tears. I looked back at the girl, expecting to feel some sort of triumph or satisfaction at having finally voiced my opinion.  But instead, I felt worse. Lana didn't have any other friends. She was an outcast and though she was loyal, not even The Society was willing to welcome her. But all the while she helped them, doing what she thought was right to protect Supernaturals and other Humans. Could I really fault her for that?

            "Look," I said. "I know you and The Society don't trust Westley, and despite our difference in opinions on him, I can respect that. But... how can I trust you after this? How do I know the second I tell you something... private, you won't go running to The Society?"

            Lana gave a helpless shrug.

            "You don't," she admitted.

            "Well, at least you're honest,"

            "I'm trying to be. So... what now?"

            "Well, one crisis at a time. I think it's more important that we deal with the Scavenger before anything else."

            There was something inside me that wouldn't let me cut Lana off like I had Sienna. Despite our misgivings, the friendship just didn't feel dead. Certainly things were off between Lana and I, and it would take time to fix things if we tried, but I had a feeling that we would find a way to move forward. After all, that's what you do you finally find yourself with a real best friend.

"You did say that thing was here right? But at a high school dance?"

            "That's just the thing, Tamsyn. She's been here all along."

*  *  *