After Party Clean Up
Her head still whirling at her crash course in Hellmouth Survival 101, Joyce shook her head as she looked at the mess around her, then at her daughter and her friends as they stood together in a small cluster. Just like they used to before Buffy ran away for the summer. She stood back as Buffy and her friends made up teenage style.
“Joyce? Are you all right?” she heard an accented voice ask her. Joyce turned around to look at her daughter’s Watcher posing as the Sunnydale High School librarian, Mr.Giles. “Joyce?”
[Zombies. Real dead zombies had invaded my home, I live in Monster Island and my daughter is a Vampire Slayer. What was next? Godzilla and the Creature form the Black Lagoon attacks Sunnydale?] Joyce blinked at the man and gave him a small smile. “Sorry. I think that I’m still in shock.”
“Quite all right,” Mr.Giles said as he gave her an understanding smile. “I think that anyone would be in shock after having their home attacked by zombies.”
Joyce nodded, then a thought occurred to her. “This isn’t a normal occurrence, is it? If it is, then I have to start investing in plastic furniture.”
“Ah, no. This usually isn’t a normal occurrence. Though, the paranormal is usually the normal for Sunnydale,” he admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck. He was about to put a reassuring pat on her shoulder, but did not. The truce between them was still new, emotions were still running high due to the latest attack from the Hellmouth and he didn’t want to do anything to make a good situation worse.
“I dare you to say that ten times fast,” Joyce said with a small, cautious smile. She felt her tenseness ease slightly when he gave her a cautious smile. Funny, she didn’t even know that she was tense until he spoke to her. To prevent herself from tensing up again, she looked around her and took inventory of the mess in her living room. “Well, I guess we went from a hoot and nanny to a gathering. Do you think that anyone’s hungry?”
Joyce turned to look at Mr.Giles. He had a strange expression on his face. “Mr.Giles, are you all right?”
He nodded quickly. “Yes, I’m fine. Would you-ah- like some help in cleaning up before we eat?”
“That would be a marvelous idea,” Joyce said as she headed towards a closet like a woman on a mission. “I think that I saw the broom around here somewhere. Buffy, kids, clean up duty before we eat.”
Buffy broke away from Willow and nodded at her mother. She gave her small smile. “Guess you’re happy that we didn’t use the good dishes, huh?”
She wanted to say so many things to her child, but now was not the time to say them all. So Joyce just smiled back. “I don’t know about that, honey. I’ve been trying to get rid of that pattern forever just so that I can get new ones.”
“Well, if you’d like us to break the dishes,” Xander started to say with a grin. “We could-Ow!”
He glared at Cordelia who smacked him. “I refuse to clean up more than I have to, and broken porcelain causes wrinkles.”
Xander blinked at that. “I thought that was excess frowning?”
Cordelia gave him a ‘duh’ look. “What, you smile when you break the dishes?”
Xander was about to say something when there was a knock on the front door. Puzzled, he went to open it and smiled brightly. “Hello, Mr. Policeman A and B! Nice to see you again all so soon, and at the beginning of the school year. Giles! Mrs. Summers! The nice policeman are here!”
Giles quickly went over to greet the police as Joyce plastered on a smile as she followed him to greet the policemen. “Hello. Is there anything wrong?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
From her place in the kitchen, Joyce stared at the small group of teenagers as they sat on the living room couch, talking and eating popcorn. She bit her lip as she thought about what Buffy said and had not said while they were eating at the dinner table. Turning away, she stared at the dishes in the sink.
“Joyce?”
[There was more to that story that Buffy told] she thought as she looked at her daughter, whose golden head was thrown back in laughter. [She deleted some parts, but what? And do you really want to know, Joyce Summers?]
Giles hesitantly touched Joyce’s shoulders as she stood still, staring at the dishes. Was she upset again? “Joyce? Are you all right?”
Startled, Joyce jumped up and let out a small squeak. At the same time, Giles jumped back, startled by her startled movement. The two stood there, staring at each other, in a defensive stance, before it could register what they were doing. Joyce blinked, and blurted out. ”Don’t do that!”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-ah-frighten you,” Mr.Giles apologized when he got his breath back. He gave her a small smile. “You seemed to be lost in thought, I wanted to ask you something and then you jumped when I touched you-“
Joyce let out a small chuckle at his quick and defensive explanation. “Sorry, you just startled me. Like you said, I was lost in my thoughts.” She looked towards the direction of the living room, and smiled sadly. “I was just think of Buffy. And what she said during the fight and what she said during dinner.”
Giles nodded and then Joyce added softly, ”And what she didn’t say.”
He stopped nodding and gave her a hard look. Joyce gave him a wry smile. “A mother knows when her child isn’t happy, Mr.Giles. I may not know every particular thing that goes on in her other life like you do, but I do know when she’s not happy.”
Giles had the grace to look abashed. “I’m sorry, I just thought that-“
“That I wouldn’t notice that my child is still grieving? That she was unhappy with how her life is or was?” Joyce snorted in disbelief. She stopped herself before she could get into it anymore. Buffy’s running away was her fault just as much as it was his and Buffy’s. She shook her head. “No, I’m not going to start the blame game, we’re beyond that now. We have to be.”
Quietly, Giles waited as Joyce took a deep breath to control her temper. He really didn’t want to become intimate with her left fist or her knees at the start of the school season. When she opened her brown eyes, they were clear and full of worry. “I may not be most observant of inquisitive of mothers, but even I can tell when my child’s being evasive and trying to avoid a subject.” She smiled derisively. “I have had plenty of practice, and that in no way was supposed to make you feel guilty.”
But it did. It made him feel quite guilty; especially when there was a chance that Buffy’s running away could have been avoided had Joyce known about her daughter. But then again, with the circumstances at the end of that battle, it was possible that she still could have run away. “I’m not feeling guilty. Is there anything that you’d like to-“
“Ask her about what really happened?” Joyce finished for him. She looked at her daughter sitting on the couch with her friends. She was smiling, and she was laughing. But when her friends weren’t looking, there was a sadness that crept in her eyes. Her baby wasn’t happy, and there was nothing that she could do about it. “I can ask her, but I don’t know if she’ll tell me. The Buffy I know would rather walk through fire than tell me something that she doesn’t want me to know.”
Giles gave her a small smile. “That sounds like the same Buffy I know. Notoriously close-mouthed when she wants to be. Often I either wait for her to be ready to tell me what’s wrong out or trick her into telling me what’s bothering her.”
Joyce smiled at the man’s tactics and his knowledge of her daughter. “And if those don’t work?”
“I demand it out of her, and that last tactic should be used with caution,” Giles admitted frankly as he looked at Joyce. He gave her a small smile. “One must keep in mind that she’s still the Slayer and that she can still put me into the hospital if she were so inclined.”
“So what do you think you should do?” Joyce asked him as she turned away, not wanting him to see the pain in her eyes. It had cost her, to ask that. But she had no choice, not if she wanted Buffy happy again. “If you demand anything from her, she’ll run. Like she tried to do again tonight.”
Knowing how much it cost her to ask him that, Giles took her hand and squeezed it. “I think that WE should wait for her to mention it.” He waited until Joyce from their entwined fingers and looked at him. “Right now, I think she needs her mother just as much as she needs her Watcher.”
After looking at him for a moment, Joyce gave him a small smile, and squeezed his hand back. “All right, we’ll wait for her to say something.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Buffy? Are you getting ready for bed?” Joyce asked as she knocked into Buffy’s room, then entered. It was well after midnight by the time everything had finished. All of Buffy’s friends had gone home, and the house belonged to just the two of them. She found her daughter staring out the window, looking forlorn. Uncertain, she said again softly, “Buffy?”
Startled, Buffy turned and smiled at her mother, the lost look in her eyes still there. “Hi, Mom. Did you want something?”
[A million things. Starting with you being happy] thought Joyce. Instead, she just smiled and said, ”I just wanted to know if you’re going to bed now.”
“I am, I will, thanks,” Buffy said as she looked over at her bed blankly. “I’ll go to bed as soon-“
She could not help it; Joyce had stiffened at that ‘thanks’. It was like a polite stranger had entered her daughter’s body. Her voice sharpened without her meaning to. “What do you mean ‘thanks’? Why are you thanking me?”
Like a deer caught in headlights, Buffy stared at her mother. “What?”
Catching herself, Joyce shook her head. “No, never mind that. I don’t want to start anything-I promised myself I wouldn’t start anything-“
Defensive, Buffy looked at her mother with a trembling mouth. “Start what? What don’t you want to start? You don’t want to start fighting with me? Didn’t we have enough fighting tonight?”
“Obviously not enough if we’re going to start arguing now,” Joyce shot back at her daughter. “And we’re not fighting-“
“Oh, then we’re just discussing things real loudly, aren’t we?” Buffy shot back at her mother. “After all that’s been said tonight, what’s been done-you still can’t accept what’s been going on in this town-“
“I can accept what’s going on, what has been going on,” Joyce shot back. “But can you accept what’s going to happen now? What’s going to happen with our life now? Your life?”
“I know what’s going on with my life,” Buffy nearly shouted with tears running down her eyes. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be happy!” Joyce shouted back, her chest heaving with a pain only a mother knew. Both of them froze as the words died down. Her lips trembling, Joyce stared at her child, her voice calmer. “I want you to be happy. I want those shadows in your eyes gone, and that sad, far away look you have to disappear when you think that I’m not looking. I want you to stop being so polite, like a stranger here, in your own home-I want my daughter back.“
“This isn’t my home. You don’t want me here,” Buffy whispered. She saw her mother look at her puzzled. Her voice became stronger with the pain that laced through her. “I heard you-you-you told Pat that maybe it was better-better that I never came back here-“
“I told Pat that-You thought that I meant that-“Joyce started to ask. Then horror filled Joyce as she realized what her daughter meant. Anger and pain filled her voice. “And that’s why you started packing your clothes again tonight? Because you overheard me tell Pat that I wanted you to be happy and that I wanted to move to West Virginia or England?”
Confused, Buffy stared at her mother. “What? You never said that- you said that it might have been better if I never came back at all-“
“If I never wanted you to come back, why the hell would I have called everyone to try and find you? Why the hell would I have had Nana Bethie hire a bunch of detective, let Uncle Dante call on his army buddies and Aunt Anne use her connections to try and find you?” Joyce demanded, her voice trembling with hurt. “Why would I have called Uncle Niall for help? How could you think that I would never want you back?”
“You called Uncle Niall?” Her head reeling, Buffy’s shoulder shook as she tried to reason it all out. “I-I heard you-you said-you said to not come back home-and-and-“
“And? And what?” Joyce demanded, tears running down her eyes. “I said those horrible words and I’m sorry-“
Not hearing what her mother was saying, Buffy looked at her mother, then burst into tears. “And I know that you never really wanted to have me. You didn’t want to marry Daddy. You were the sore loser of the divorce and you just came here because of me instead of going to Rome like you wanted to-“
“Who said I never wanted you?” Joyce demanded angrily as she looked at her crying daughter. Incensed beyond rage, Joyce demanded. “Who said that I never wanted you? Who told you this? I have always wanted you-”
“No, you didn’t! I heard you!” Her lips trembling, Buffy wiped her nose with her hand. “I-I heard you. When you and Dad were arguing, that last night. Two months after I burned down the gym. When he took his bags and went to the hotel. You said that you never wanted-never should have married him in the first place-“
Weariness and dread filled Joyce as she looked at her daughter as she remembered. She remembered that night all too well. It was the night that Hank decided he wanted to send Buffy off to a boarding school in Switzerland. That was the decision that broke the straw on the camel’s back, and all hell broke loose.
It was the same night she had confronted Hank about his affair with Amelia Sutton and his embezzlement of Buffy’s trust fund, with information provided by Uncle Niall. She hoped to God that Buffy didn’t hear the whole argument. “I was right, I never should have married your father. I never really, really wanted to marry your father, Buffy.”
Buffy let out a cry of anguish. “And you never-“
“No,” Joyce said fiercely as she grabbed her daughter’s shoulders. “But I always wanted you. I didn’t want your father, but I always wanted you. Even before you were born, I have always wanted you.”
Buffy’s lips trembled as she looked up at her mother. “No, I heard you! You said that you never should have married Daddy- that I never should have been his daughter-“
“No, I should never have married your father, and you never should have been his daughter,” Joyce said softly. Buffy tried to turn away, but Joyce wouldn’t let her go. She couldn’t. Cupping Buffy’s face into her hands, Joyce looked at her daughter’s miserable eyes. “You should have been mine. Just mine.”
“I don’t-I don’t understand,” Buffy said, shaking her head.
“You know the history, Buffy.” Going on instinct, Joyce grabbed her daughter’s hand and dragged her towards the attic. “I was about seventeen when I first saw your father at the Allen Springs Summer Dance. You know we dated, and then broke up when I spent that year in Paris, studying to dance-“
“I know the story, Mom,” Buffy said as Joyce let her hand go and started to rummage through the boxes. “Then you came back to Allen Springs, and then you won a contest to that art show in New York and met him there. I thought it was the most romantic story I ever heard.”
Reaching into the box she wanted, she pulled out a small wooden chest. Joyce sat on the floor, with it in her lap and remembered what happened nearly twenty years ago. “It was romantic. Very romantic, your father was very smooth. He was a touch of Allen Springs that I missed when I saw him in New York.” She reached up and pulled Buffy down to sit near her. She looked at her daughter steadily. “We had already broken up when you were conceived. He was going to head back to New York for his Masters, and I was going to go back to Paris and dance.”
Buffy looked down at her hands. “And neither of you could do what you wanted. Daddy got his degree at state and you never became a dancer like you wanted to be.”
“But I didn’t, but I became what I really wanted to be.” Joyce said as she gently put the chest into Buffy’s hands. “Do you know what this is? Do you remember this chest?”
Frowning, Buffy looked at it. “Yeah, it’s like the memory chest you said that was mine, but it’s yours. You never let me open it. I kept pestering you to let me see what was in it, but you wouldn’t let me. And then you got me my memory chest.”
Her hands trembling, Joyce patted the chest. “And now I’m giving it to you. Open it.”
Opening the chest, Buffy looked at her, confused. She looked in, then pulled out an assortment of things. On top were several pictures Buffy knew she drew when she was in grade school. A clay model that was supposed to be a horse, but looked more like a two-headed camel. A bunch of dried up roses. Then she pulled out a small book of children’s rhymes and stories.
Digging deeper, Buffy pulled out a pair of scuffed, white baby shoes, then a christening gown with matching satin shoes. A small band from the hospital, a photo album. Then she pulled out a small statue of a mother and child. A knit doll with button eyes and yellow yarn for hair. A polka dot beanbag dog with a floppy, red tongue and a small white unicorn with a yellow mane came out next. Then out came a small blonde doll in a red velvet and lace dress. And on the bottom of the chest, she pulled out an old, dainty doll with a china head and a blue dress. She had a dimple in her left cheek, had deep green eyes and flaxen hair. And she had a small gold necklace with an oval pendant. Buffy blinked as she looked at it, she knew that pendant. She had one just like it in the safe place of her jewelry box. When she was little, she wore it every day because it was just like Mommy’s.
“Her name is Bethie, I named her after Nana,” Joyce said quietly as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She placed the necklace square on the doll’s chest. “Before-before he and Mummy died…Daddy wanted to buy me and Mummy each a necklace, because we were the most important people in the world. I insisted that he get one for Bethie, because she was going to be my baby until I had a baby. So he had one made for the three of us, and then an extra one. One for the baby I wanted.”
Tears filling her eyes, Joyce caught a tear from Buffy’s eyes. “When I was a little girl, all I could dream about was being a mother. All I wanted was to have a baby girl, a little girl who I’d name Elizabeth. And she’d be the happiest little baby because I was her mommy.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Joyce tried to talk. “When I said that you never should have been his daughter, he knew what I was talking about. He knew what I meant. He knew that I didn’t want to really marry him, but it was out of the question for him and his family, for Aunt Regina and Uncle Harold, to know that I was going to have a baby out of wedlock. That I was going back to England or move in with Anne and Dante to have my baby. The words that they all used…”
Joyce shook her head away from the memories. “His parents and Uncle Harold wanted the marriage more than he did, more than I did. And because I was scared as much as I was happy, I caved in to pressure. So I married him when you should have been just mine.” She looked at her daughter and stroked Buffy’s face. “I always wanted you, Buffy. No matter what anyone says, no matter how much trouble you get in or how good you are or how many demons you kill or how many times you run away, I will always want you back. You will always be mine. You’re stuck with this blind as a bat, always nosy, pokey, nagging and sappy mother until the day you die, Buffy.”
“I wouldn’t want any other,” Buffy cried as she flung herself into her mother’s arms, hugging her tightly. Hugging her daughter back, Joyce said a silent prayer of thanks before the tears broke through the control that she gained over the summer.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Holding Bethie to her chest, Buffy looked up at her mother. “Are you sure that you really didn’t want to go to Rome and live there?”
Confused, Joyce looked at her daughter blankly. “When did I ever want to go and live in Rome? Visiting is fine, but living? I don’t even speak Italian. If I wanted to go and live anywhere it’d be either to be England or West Virginia. Or maybe France or Montana, least I’d know the language.”
“But I heard you tell Aunt Arlene on the phone that you couldn’t go to Rome because of me,” said Buffy, her eyes clouding again.
“Rome? I wanted to go to Rome?” Joyce looked at her daughter blankly as she tried to remember, then her brow cleared. She swallowed a chuckle as she remembered. “It wasn’t Rome, Italy I wanted to go to, Buffy. It was Rome, New York. There was a convention there for artists that I wanted to see, but I couldn’t go to because two months before, you burned down the gym and I thought that you needed me more.”
“There’s an actual city called Rome in New York?” Buffy asked suspiciously.
“Yes, there is. A very nice place to visit, not too crowded,” Joyce said as she shook her head. “And mind you, if I really wanted to go anywhere to live, you’re coming with me. At least until you go to college, and that’s a very broad hint that I’m dropping.”
“Okay, I caught the hint, even if it was a big as an anvil,” Buffy said as she smiled as she looked up at her mother.
“Good,” Joyce said with a nod. She moved a hair from Buffy’s face, a shadow passing over hers as she thought of the summer. “You scared me, honey. All summer-I-I didn’t know if you were dead or hurt…I never meant to tell you to never come back, I just didn’t want you to go to fight that monster. I didn’t want you to do your duty. I wanted you with me, safe. I waited up all night for you, praying, hoping that you’d come back. Then when I found that note-I went a little crazy. All summer, I was a little crazy. I thought I was going to go insane with fear and worry.”
Her lips trembling, Buffy looked at her mother. “I believed you-after I stopped Acathla-after I killed-I remembered what you said to Aunt Arlene about Rome, and then I came in after slaying and heard what you said to Daddy. And after all that happened-with my being accused of Kendra’s murder and then being expelled again, I just had to run. It was just too much-“
“I know, baby, I know,” Joyce soothed as she pulled her daughter closer and held her. “Let it out, let it all out.”
“I killed him, Mom. To save the world, I killed Angel,” Buffy sobbed hysterically as she held on to her mother. “I sent him to hell, and I keep seeing it over and over again. The pain, the horror on his face when I ran my sword into him-“
[What was it like to have to kill the man you love? What was it like to see his death every time you closed your eyes?] Joyce wondered with tears in her eyes as Buffy cried in her arms. “Shhh…Shhh…it’s all right, it’ll be okay. It’ll be okay, honey.”
“I killed him, Mom. I killed Angel,” Buffy hiccuped as she lifted her head. She wiped her nose with her hand. “I sent him to hell-“
“He was evil, honey. You had no choice,” Joyce said as she wiped Buffy’s tears away. “He was about to destroy the world, sent it to hell-“
“He wasn’t evil!” Buffy blurted out. Joyce stared at her daughter. “He wasn’t- and I-I-“
“If he wasn’t evil, then why was he about to send the world into hell?” Joyce asked confused. Buffy as about to answer when they heard a shout.
“JACK ! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?” shouted a voice. “Ow! Anne!”
A low murmur was heard as the two Summers women stared at each other, then scrambled to go downstairs. With Buffy following, Joyce ran towards the steps, hollering, ”We’re here, Dante! Annie!”
The attic door flung open and a tall, dark figure stood in the middle of it. He bellowed as he glared at the two Summers women. “And just what are the two of you doing up here in the attic in the middle of the night?”
“Uncle Te!” shouted Buffy happily as she raced pass her mother and flung herself into his arms. The large man caught her with one arm effortlessly. “Uncle Te!”
“Dante!” Joyce shouted as she flung herself after her daughter. He caught her with his other arm. Both women squealed when he gave them both a hug that threatened to snap their spines. “What are you doing here?”
“What? I don’t get a hug?” a female voice demanded as she looked at the small group. “And to think of all the trouble I went through-“
“Auntie Annie!” Buffy squealed as she wiggled to let go of her godfather and practically leapt into her godmother’s arms. “You’re here, too!”
“Annie! You’re here!” Joyce cried happily as she let go of Dante to hug her other oldest and dearest friend. “Annie! Dante! Why are you here? Didn’t the both of you get my message?”
“Yeah, what are you doing here, Uncle Te?” Buffy asked she remained under the crook of her godmother’s arm. It was the best place to be, next to being under the crook of her mother’s arm. Especially when Uncle Dante looked mad enough to chew nails.
Joyce watched in amusement as Dante James Smith, the loving and indulgent babysitter/godfather and Buffy’s favorite cohort in trouble, quick change into the hard ass, dangerous, Special Forces colonel she knew he was. She wondered how long it would take for her daughter to wrap him around her little finger again.
“I’m here to give you the flat of my palm, Elizabeth Anne Summers! I’m going to put you over my knee and spank you until you can’t sit!” Dante roared as he towered over her. “Do you know-do you have any idea of what we all went through this summer? Your Aunt Arlene was here seven times already! Did you know that your mother contacted your Granduncle Niall? Your Nana Bethie?”
Her eyes big, Buffy wrapped herself around Aunt Annie’s waist. “Mom told me. I’m sorry to make so much trouble, Uncle Te. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Elizabeth Anne,” Annie said softly as she brought her goddaughter to look at her. “You could have run to us. Why didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t run to anybody. I didn’t want to run to anybody. Because I didn’t want to get anyone into trouble,” Buffy sniffed as she wiped her nose with her hand. “I wanted to be alone, I needed to be alone. I’m sorry.”
Looking at her miserable little mien, Dante felt the fear, anger and worry pour out of him. It was always so hard to stay mad at her, especially when she was so obviously sorry.
“Butterfly-“ Dante said as he used one of the nicknames he dubbed her when Buffy was a baby. He stroked her soft blonde hair. ”The next time you run away from home, and it had better not happen anytime within the next thousand years, you come to us. And if you feel the need to be alone, go to your room and tell it to Mr.Gordo. Okay?”
“Okay,” Buffy said in a small voice. She looked at her Aunt Annie curiously. “Aunt Annie? Did you really use your contacts to try and find me? How come no one found me? I thought you guys were supposed to be these really hot shot people that could find a hair on the rug? And did Mom really call Granduncle Niall? And did Uncle Te-”
Dante glared at Buffy, but his green eyes twinkled. “It was pure blind luck that you got to elude us, Butterfly, especially in Oceanville. But you managed to kill the reputation of the guys that found you in San Francisco, Disneyland and that small town near Santa Inez.”
“Plus your friend Anne said to tell you that she’s getting better at taking care of herself,” Annie said dryly as she rubbed her eyes tiredly. She smiled at Buffy’s surprised looks. “I missed you by two hours. But that’s better than how everyone else missed you by.”
Buffy’s eyes were round. “Who was that man with the gray hat in San Francisco Bay?”
“Your Uncle Niall’s best man,” Joyce said dryly as she looked at her child with some amusement. “And his arm is getting better. And Nana Bethie’s detectives almost had you in Spring Street if it weren’t for that dog fight.”
“Were they the same guys in Disneyland?” Buffy demanded as she thought some more. “The two men and three women?”
Joyce shook her head. “Nope, those were your Uncle Adam’s men. They couldn’t believe that you disappeared into the crowd like that.”
“And the cops in Oceanville?” Buffy demanded. “Was that because of the APB out on me?”
“The sheriff was my right hand man before he retired, and the deputy was a man under me,” Uncle Dante grunted. “They’re both a bit embarrassed that you gave them the slip.”
Buffy shook her head. “I thought they were all cops looking for me. To put me into jail for Kendra.”
“They stopped looking to do that as soon as they determined how she died,” Annie said as she shook her head. “Then they started looking for you as a missing persons. Jack, you have some coffee?”
Dante looked at his little wife and grunted, ”You know you shouldn’t have coffee this late, darling. You turn mean and evil in the morning-“
“Stop fussing, Dante. You’ll just have to deal with it and make me into an angel by sweetening me up,” Anne laughed. “Coffee, Jack?”
“Sure, I’ll get some on,” Joyce said as she stopped by her door. “You go ahead and give me a moment.”
“I’m just thankful that it’s Friday and we don’t have to back in West Virginia by Monday,” Dante said as he made his way down the stairs.
As the trio went downstairs, Joyce picked up her phone. She heard a groggy hello, and smiled. “Mr.Giles? It’s Joyce Summers. Buffy’s fine, she’s still here. I know I promised-I know we said-“
Taking a deep breath, Joyce calmed herself. “Buffy and I had a talk, Mr.Giles. And I know what happened, Buffy killed Angel. She sent him to hell.”
Hearing silence on the other end, Joyce swallowed back the need to protect her child herself. She wanted to take her daughter, and run with her as fast and as far as she could. But she couldn’t, Fate wouldn’t allow it. Mr.Giles told her once, over the summer, danger and demons, no matter where, the Slayer was fated to fight it. It was Buffy’s destiny, but oh, how Joyce wanted to run and hide Buffy from it. And that was the most dangerous thing of all. The need to hide from it, to pretend to not know what was going on. But she knew where that path would take her, and she didn’t care to repeat the summer again.
Swallowing hard, she gripped the phone. “Buffy sent Angel to hell…And now she’s suffering for doing it. Can you help me? Help my daughter? Please?”
Joyce listened to the other end, and felt relief fill her. “Thank you. What do you think we should do?”
She listened to the other end, to the man suggesting on how they should handle her fragile daughter. When she hung up, Joyce looked at the phone bemusedly, not quite sure on how she felt. Most of the resentment she felt towards him was gone, the traces that remained were only there out of pride.
[Funny] Joyce thought as she made her way down the stairs. [Hank, by rights is Buffy’s father. But the man on the phone knew Hank’s daughter better than Hank did. Or her mother. How can you resent a man like that? How do you deal with a man like that? How do you deal with a special daughter like Buffy?]
“Mom? You coming?” Buffy’s voice shouted from the kitchen. “We haven’t got all day, Mom! I made some chocolate and marshmallows!”
“Coming,” Joyce shouted back. And grinned for the first time in a long time. [ One day at a time, Joyce. Or rather, one night at a time.] “Don’t you dare eat all the marshmallows!”