Father Figure
Part 3
It felt weird, being back at the hospital again, less than a day after they'd been here before. Only at least this time Buffy was going to visit a father who was recovering, not to sit at the side of a dying man. She'd gotten so lucky that killing the demon hadn't really killed her father. Every time she thought about what could have happened, she felt kind of...ick.
They'd debated checking into a hotel first, but both Buffy and her mother agreed that they wanted to see Buffy's father as soon as possible. They'd check on him, make sure he was okay, then find a hotel. They didn't have any other plans beyond that. Everything would depend on how he was doing.
Joyce parked the jeep and together they walked up to the door of the hospital. "I hope your father doesn't mind my visiting," she said.
"Nah," Buffy dismissed. "Someone had to bring me, and you're lots easier to explain than Giles."
Her mother just smiled. "I just hope he doesn't give me a hard time about pulling you out of school for a day."
"Tough if he does," Buffy scowled. "My sick father's more important than a boring chemistry class."
"Yes, but your father may not see it that way," Joyce cautioned.
They were surprised when they learned that Hank Summers was no longer in ICU. Buffy thought that was strange. Even if he was conscious now, he was still so badly beaten up last night. He must really be doing better.
The next shock came when they got to his room and saw for themselves just how much better, for he was sitting on the edge of his bed, arguing with a doctor.
"I told you, I feel fine," Hank Summers insisted.
"Mr. Summers, when you were brought in last night, you'd been so badly beaten you were in a coma. I can't just-"
"I'm not in a coma now," he said. "I feel perfectly well enough to leave this hospital. Which I intend to do, with your permission or without it." He looked up at the sound at the door, his face changing to surprise. "Buffy! Joyce! What are you doing here?"
Buffy felt an uneasy tightness in her stomach. No way could anyone who was as beat up as her father'd been last night be sounding this fine today. He even had the splint off the arm and leg. And they'd been definitely broken.
"We heard about what happened...." her mother began.
Hank just chuckled, shaking his head. "It's the weirdest thing. I'm getting ready for bed Monday night, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up here. I don't even know how I got here. They keep telling me I've been mugged or something. But I feel fine."
Joyce looked at Buffy and her daughter frowned. This was definitely not normal. "Daddy, you were practically...they said you had brain damage," she explained.
"Well, they must have been wrong," Hank replied. "I'm fine."
"What about your broken leg? Your arm?"
He swung his leg and bent his arm. "I don't know what they told you, princess, but-"
"But I saw you," she insisted. "Last night. You were-"
"Buffy, I don't know what you think you saw last night," he said, a slightly sharper note in his voice, "but you can see now that there's nothing wrong with me. Now if we can just convince the good doctor...." He smiled.
And Buffy went cold. The smile was feral.
But she forced her own smile. "I'm so glad," she sighed exaggeratedly. "We were so worried."
"I'm okay," he said and held out his arms. She moved to hug him and her worst fears were confirmed. Her heart turned to ice as she embraced evil.
"Um...you know what?" she said as she pulled away. "Why...why don't we...go...to your place, get you...get you some clothes. And bring them back. So when they let you go you won't have to go home in a hospital gown. Okay?"
He stared at her and her heart leapt to her throat. He knew that she knew. But he gave her another chilling smile and his words sounded almost ordinary. "That's a good idea, honey. Thanks."
"Okay. Good. So...so Mom and I will...we'll go now. And we'll be back as soon as we can. 'Bye, Daddy." She grabbed her mother by the wrist and towed her out of the room.
"'Bye, Joyce," Hank called.
"We'll be back soon," Joyce called back.
Buffy pulled her mother halfway down the corridor before Joyce pulled away. "Buffy, what on-"
"That's not him," she said.
Joyce froze. "What?"
"It's not him. It's the...the same thing that was there last night. It's evil."
"Then what...what did you...?"
"I don't know." Buffy shook her head. "Maybe it was just a vessel or something and when I destroyed it, the demon jumped back into Dad. All I know is that yesterday the man we brought in here was so badly beat up his face was purple and puffy, he had a broken arm and a broken leg. And broken fingers. And he'd suffered some sort of...head trauma. There's no way he could have recovered from all that without some sort of supernatural help. Even I don't heal that quickly.
"And when I hugged him just now, I felt that...that icky, crawly evil feeling I felt last night. The half-dead man we brought in here yesterday was my father. This man isn't."
Joyce stared at her, stunned. "Are you sure?"
"Way sure," Buffy nodded. "It's the demon."
Joyce swallowed. "What do we do?"
"What we always do," Buffy said simply. "Call Giles." She strode to the nearest pay phone and dialed a number.
He picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"
"Giles, it's me."
"Buffy. What's wrong?"
Buffy smiled grimly. "Why do you think something's wrong?"
"Because I've been doing a little research into our demonic friend of last night, and it's possible that-"
"I didn't kill it last night," Buffy completed. "'Cause it's here, in my dad, barely hurt at all. It's almost like it moved in and healed him."
"Hmm," Giles mused. "I've not read of that, but I suppose it's possible."
"So what are we dealing with here?" she asked.
"Well, if it's what I think it is, then it's a West-African demon called Erzala. It's a shape-shifter, but it also has the ability, when threatened, to simply abandon its body and take up residence in a host."
"Sounds like our guy. Okay, how do we defeat it?" she asked. "It's still got my dad, so poker-to-the-chest is an option I'd rather avoid, if I can."
"I've been looking into that," he said. "As usual, the information's a little sketchy."
"So what else is new?" Buffy sighed. Just once she'd like to meet a well-documented easily researched demon.
"There appears to be a sort of exorcism ritual, but-"
"That's what we need," Buffy interrupted. "To get it out of my dad."
"Buffy, the ritual is a bit vague," he warned. "There's a strong possibility that destroying the demon may destroy the host."
Buffy's gut clenched. Oh, God, not again.
"Buffy?" Giles sounded concerned.
"Still here," she said softly. "I guess we have to do whatever we have to do. Can you come?"
"I'm on my way," he confirmed. "Where are you?"
"Right now at the hospital, but they're gonna release him and then we'll probably go to his place."
"All right. I'll meet you there."
"Okay, thanks. And Giles?"
"Yes?"
"Hurry?"
"Quick as I can," he confirmed. "Uh, how's your mother?"
Buffy glanced at her mother, who was leaning against the wall, head bowed, her face crossed with a frown. "Confused."
"I'm sure. She-"
"Look, I'll take care of her, you just get here."
"Right. Sit tight, I'm on my way."
"Okay, 'bye." She hung up. Joyce was staring at her. "He's coming."
"What's he going to do?" she asked.
"He's found some sort of ritual thingy which'll get rid of it." She didn't tell her mother that Giles was not confident about the outcome. She could barely stand to think that herself. She had to think only positively, or else she'd go crazy.
"What about your father?" her mother asked. Obviously, Joyce had thought of it on her own.
"He doesn't know."
"Oh, my God...." Joyce murmured, her eyes wide with fear. "What should we do now?"
"Go to Dad's and get his clothes," she said. "Until Giles gets here, it'll be safer to play along. We know the demon's strong, but we don't know what else it can do. Come on." Buffy headed to the parking lot, leaving her mother to follow.
Not for the first time, Rupert Giles cursed Los Angeles traffic. Some day he'd manage to come into the city and not be caught in some infernal snarl-up. But it didn't seem to matter when he came, late evening or mid-morning, the situation was the same-cars stacked on the LA Freeway.
Finally, he got off the highway and made his way down the tidy streets that marked Hank Summers' neighborhood. All the way in the car, he'd been reviewing the ritual, checking its procedure, making sure he had everything he needed. It was chancy, attempting an untried ritual. But some things couldn't be avoided.
He pulled up in front of Hank Summers' condo and parked, wondering how to best approach. Erzala had proved last night that it was strong. He needed to manage this without endangering Buffy, or Joyce, any more than absolutely necessary. He got out of his car, deciding he'd just brazen it out and knock on the door, when the door opened and Buffy came out, pulling her mother behind her. She looked at him and tipped her head toward Joyce's Jeep, and he met them there.
"He thinks I'm getting my SAT results to show him," Buffy said, unlocking the car and pretending to search for the piece of paper.
"How is he behaving?"
Buffy made a face. "He knows I know, but we're both playing the game. I can't figure out what he wants."
"You," Giles said simply. "Get you off guard and you become vulnerable."
"But why go through such lengths?" Joyce asked.
Giles and Buffy exchanged glances. They had their own theories, but couldn't say anything about it, not yet.
"Taking out the slayer's worth big points in the demon world," Buffy replied. It was as good an answer as any.
Giles looked over at Joyce. "How are you holding up?" he asked gently.
She shook her head. "This is so unbelievable."
"You do believe that it's not Dad, don't you?" Buffy asked.
"Well," Joyce paused, "I made a fairly pointed comment earlier about absentee parents and he didn't rise to the bait. The real Hank would have been on me in a flash for that. So...yeah, I guess I do. But I still don't understand why?"
"There are a lot of whys we never do understand," Giles explained. "We can only accept them as givens and go on from there."
Joyce appeared to think about that for a moment, then nodded. "What are you going to do?" she asked.
"I found a ritual which ought to destroy the demon."
"And Hank?" she asked.
Giles and Buffy exchanged looks again. "We'll try not to harm him."
"But you might."
"It might be unavoidable."
There was a pause. "When you say harm, you mean kill, don't you?"
Giles didn't want to answer, but he'd promised her no lies. "Possibly."
Joyce took a deep breath and looked a little paler. "All right, what do you want me to do?"
"Mom, we-"
"Joyce, it will be extremely dangerous," Giles said.
"Why don't you wait here where it's safe?" Buffy suggested.
"Buffy-" Joyce began to protest.
"Mom, I can't do what I have to do and worry about keeping you safe, too. Stay out where-"
"No."
Her emphatic denial stopped Buffy cold. "Mom-"
"I said no." There was a tinge of anger in her voice. "It's bad enough knowing you have to face dangers and evil night after night and there's nothing I can do to stop it. But I won't just sit in the car while the people I care most about are getting themselves killed. I can't."
"Mom," Buffy tried again.
"I won't be safe no matter what you do," Joyce continued. "So at least let me help. I need to help."
"But I-"
"Buffy," Giles stopped her. He gazed at Joyce, seeing the determination in her expression which almost covered the fear in her eyes. He understood her impulse, that need to not be useless. Understood it and respected it. "All right."
"Giles-" Buffy started to protest. He raised a hand to silence her.
"It's her choice, her right." He turned back to Buffy's mother. "What we're attempting here is extremely dangerous, Joyce. I want to make sure you understand that going in."
"What exactly are you attempting?" she asked.
"It's a...a ritual. An incantation. If we're lucky, it will cast the demon out of Hank's body and leave him intact."
"And if we're not lucky?"
He admired her wanting to know the whole truth, no matter how painful. "It could kill not only Hank but each of us as well." He let her absorb that, then went on. "When I begin, I'll need the demon to be restrained. That's you, Buffy. But it's strong, it proved that last night. So Joyce, you can help. Do whatever you have to to keep it restrained. But when I give the word, you must release it immediately."
"What will happen?" Buffy asked.
"I'm not totally sure," Giles admitted. "It could create a vortex. It could be fire. It could simply be that the demon is cast out and may try to leap into the nearest available host." He looked from Buffy to Joyce and back again. "Are we clear?"
Buffy swallowed and nodded. Joyce looked too frightened to speak, but she managed to find a nod as well.
"All right. Go back. I'll be right behind you." He gave Buffy's shoulder a pat and Joyce's hand a squeeze. Joyce bit her lip and blinked back emotion. And Buffy was wearing her "slayer mask", the stoic wall she used to enable her to do the things she did without crumbling. He wished Joyce were so endowed, but every moment of her pain was spelled out across her expressive face.
Buffy nodded once and took her mother's hand, leading her back into the condo, and Giles followed, several paces behind them.
"Dad?" Buffy called.
"There you are." Giles heard Hank Summers' voice. "I was wondering what took so long."
"It fell down between the seats," Buffy said. "But come here and look at this."
Giles stepped through the open door. Buffy had drawn the demon across the room. As soon as he saw the watcher, he sneered. "You guys just don't give up, do you?"
"Erzala-Eezakala!" Giles intoned. The sneer turned into a snarl as Buffy grabbed hold of the demon and tackled him to the ground. It let out an inarticulate roar as it struggled against her grasp.
"Mom!" she shouted and Joyce jumped into the fray, sitting on the demon to keep it down. Giles kept up his chanting in the ancient West African dialect, raising his voice to make it heard over the demon's curses. The demon backhanded Buffy, only to be punched in the stomach by Joyce. And then Buffy was back, sitting on his chest, a foot across its neck as she struggled to grab hold of its arms. Joyce sat on its legs and tried not to be thrown off.
Its screams grew louder; it was frothing at the mouth now, an expression truly chilling on Hank Summers' face. Giles tried not to think about that, nor about the damage that might be inflicted by his ex-wife and daughter in their attempt to hold him-hold it down. They'd deal with the damage once this was all over. Assuming Hank survived.
The power of the ritual words swirled around the room, gathering strength. They spun around Giles, faster and faster, until their energy forced them out, toward the demon.
"Let go!" he shouted.
Buffy released it instantly, flinging herself away and rolling to her feet next to Giles. Joyce was not quite as quick. She let go, but before she could move away, the demon snatched her arm, dragging her to it, just as the energy reached it and it burst into flames, engulfing both of them.
Joyce screamed.
"Mom!" Buffy shrieked and lunged toward her mother.
"No!" Giles grabbed hold of her, his arms locking around her body. If she'd wanted to, she could have shaken him off easily, but he was counting on her trust in him.
"Mom!" Buffy cried again.
"We can't help her, not now," he yelled over the roar of the fire and the screams of the demon and Buffy's mother. "We must wait."
"It's killing her!"
"Interfering would kill them both!"
"Mom...." Buffy wailed, weeping.
As quickly as she'd been grabbed, suddenly Joyce was released. She was flung out of the flames and fell to the ground, gasping.
"Mom!" Giles let go and Buffy dove to her mother's side. Joyce's eyes were wild with shock and her chest heaved. But though she looked flushed, she appeared unharmed. The fire was of a magical nature and probably wouldn't harm the physical world. What it might have done to Joyce's soul, however, remained to be seen.
Meanwhile, the demon was still engulfed in flame. It gave an almighty scream and flung its head back, mouth wide open. Thick black smoke poured out of it and the flames flashed all the way to the ceiling.
And then vanished, taking the smoke with them.
Hank Summers, left behind, collapsed on the ground.
Giles dropped to his knees at Hank's side. His complexion was gray and there was a thin coating of ash covering his skin. Giles felt for a pulse and after a moment, found one: rapid, thin, but there. Then he checked further.
"Damn. He's not breathing." Giles opened Hank's mouth and inspected his air passages, then began giving mouth to mouth resuscitation. "Come on, Hank," he muttered, "don't quit now."
Less than a minute later, though it felt far longer than that, Hank choked to life with a gasp and a cough. He coughed again and Giles turned him onto his side, not a moment too soon, as he vomited up thick, foul-smelling greenish goop. Giles had to turn his head away and clench his teeth to keep from joining him in sympathy.
"What's happening?" Buffy asked. "Giles? Is he okay?"
He looked up to where Buffy was holding her mother's shoulders. "The dead don't usually throw up," he said. "I don't know about all right, but he is alive."
Done purging, Hank took a deep breath and sighed, and Giles rolled him back again. His eyes fluttered open and he moaned.
Buffy was at his side in a flash. "Daddy?"
He struggled to open his eyes and focus on her. "B..buffy?"
"Is...is it over?" Joyce asked shakily.
Giles looked at Joyce, at Hank, and at Buffy. "Buffy?" he urged.
She reached a shaky hand and touched his face. A small, tired smile of relief crept across her face as her fingers stroked down her father's cheek. "It's him," she whispered. "It's him."
"It's over," Giles murmured, eyes closing in relief.
"Thank God," Joyce sighed, slumping back against the wall. He crawled over to her, arms going around her in mutual support, and she leaned against him gratefully. It was over.
Hank moaned and Giles eased Joyce from his arms. "I need to find a phone to call for help," he said.
"My cellular's in my bag," Joyce said. A brief search for the bag ensued, finding it where it had landed next to the couch. Giles made the call to 911 again, while Joyce moved over to her daughter and ex-husband. Buffy had her father's head cradled in her lap as she stroked his hair gently. With the banishment of the demon, all of Hank's former hurts reasserted themselves-the bruising, the broken bones. He was in rough shape and quite a bit of pain. But at least he was alive. And if he kept slipping into unconsciousness, well, it was probably for the best.
For himself, Giles felt fatigued to his soul. The casting of magic expended a great deal of energy, and coupled with the emotional strain of the past two days.... He watched the Summers family, Joyce and Buffy tenderly looking after Hank. Given the lives they led and the place where they led them, this was probably as close to a happy ending as they could hope.
Joyce sat at the side of her ex-husband's hospital bed, her mind a numbed blank. Hank had slipped into unconsciousness some time ago, after struggling to stay awake, struggling to understand what had happened. He'd been confused, disoriented. The doctors said that was normal in a case of severe injury. They were all at a loss, however, to understand his seemingly miraculous recovery this morning and the return of his injuries this evening. Joyce didn't think it could possibly be explained, either. How do you tell someone he'd spent the past week possessed by a demon who not only caused his injuries, but also cured them temporarily?
But at least now he was alive and, though injured, appeared to have all of his faculties. It was a miracle of the hellmouth variety, but at the moment, she'd take miracles any place she could get them.
Buffy had gone to join Giles in the waiting room when Hank had finally fallen asleep. But Joyce couldn't bring herself to leave his side, not just yet. He frustrated her, he annoyed her, he angered her. But the idea of losing him, twice in the space of twenty-four hours, had been more than she'd wanted to bear.
A nurse came in to check his pulse and temperature, and Joyce asked the time, startled to learn it was almost 8:00 at night. Where had the day gone? Buffy must be hungry, unless Mr. Giles had.... Dear Rupert Giles. She smiled to herself. When he'd promised to always be there for them, he'd obviously meant it. They couldn't have done this, Hank couldn't have survived this, without him.
She got stiffly to her feet. She'd better find him and Buffy, it was late. She made her way on legs much shakier than they ought to be, out to the waiting room. Buffy was curled sideways in her seat, her head resting on Giles' shoulder, and Giles slumped in his chair, his chin resting on his chest. They both looked exhausted, as exhausted as she felt.
At her approach, Buffy looked up, and her movement woke Giles, who got to his feet.
"He's asleep," Joyce said tiredly.
He nodded. "Buffy said you hadn't checked into a hotel?"
"We wanted to see Hank first." She sighed. "It seems so long ago...."
Giles extended a hand, then seemed to change his mind and the hand settled in his pocket. "We should get you settled," he said. "Let you rest. Uh...you are still planning on staying?"
"We'll want to see him in the morning," she nodded.
"Well then, let's go and collect your car and-"
Whatever else he was saying disappeared as sound was replaced by a sudden roaring in her ears, vision grayed and her legs collapsed. Next thing she knew, she was in a chair, head between her knees, a hand on her back in comfort, and soothing words she couldn't decipher spoken in a gentle English accent. She tried to sit up, but the hand held her down, murmuring calming phrases.
Another figure moved into her field of vision, one clad in white pants and a floral jacket. The nurse talked to her, asking what happened, then slowly sat her up again. She took her blood pressure, pulse and temperature, and gave her a glass of water. When it was explained that Joyce hadn't eaten all day, the nurse went away and returned with a packet of shortbread cookies and a small can of juice, and told her to get some real food.
Somehow, she managed to convince them that she was all right, and the small crowd she'd attracted dispersed. Giles was sitting on one side of her, Buffy on the other, both looking at her with concern.
"I'm all right," she said. He looked like he didn't believe her. Probably because she was lying. She looked at Buffy, whose wide-eyed compassion and fear was almost her undoing. "Well, no I'm not, but I will be."
Giles smiled. "Let's get you settled," he said and took her arm, helping her to her feet. She was appalled by how heavily she needed to lean on him, now little of her own strength she had left. But he didn't seem to mind, simply kept his arm around her securely as he guided her to the car.
Her Jeep was back at Hank's place, but Rupert refused to let her drive. Instead, they simply stopped to let Buffy get their bags from the truck, then he took them to the nearest hotel, checking them in and helping them to their room. In some ways, his caring and attention was exactly what she needed. But in others, it only made it worse. She was shaking-inside where it didn't show. Outside she was simply numb.
She ran a hand through her hair; it felt oily and gritty, and there was a flaky film on her skin, residual from the demon fire, no doubt. Well, at least it hadn't actually burned her, though it had hurt as though it did. She'd never felt a searing pain so acute.
"I want to clean up," she announced. "I feel...grubby."
Buffy, meanwhile, had zeroed in on the hotel room service menu. "What do you want to eat?" she asked.
At the thought of food, Joyce's stomach flipped and her jaw clenched. "Oh, honey, I don't think I could eat anything."
"You need to eat, Joyce," Rupert said. "It's why you collapsed."
"And had nothing to do with my human torch act, I suppose," she snapped.
Giles frowned, extending a hand to her. "How are you-?"
She flinched away from his touch. She didn't want his solicitude right now. A headache she didn't even know she had made itself known. "I'm fine," she dismissed. "Right now I just want to get clean. Excuse me." She picked up her bag and took it into the bathroom.
She scrubbed until her skin reddened and stayed under the hot spray until she started to wrinkle. But when she stepped from the shower, she still felt soiled. She knew that came from the inside, from the sense that the demon had played on her emotions and beliefs, used her to its own ends, used her to get at her daughter.
She shivered, despite the warmth, and slipped into her robe, toweling her hair dry. Then, because she couldn't avoid it any longer, she stepped out of the bathroom.
In the main room, Buffy was sitting cross-legged on the end of one bed, Giles on the desk chair opposite, a respectful physical distance between them, but still as close as two people could be. When Joyce came into the room, Giles got to his feet. "Feeling better?"
She rubbed the collar of her robe. She wondered if she'd ever feel better. "Feeling cleaner, anyway," she said, and forced a smile.
"I ordered us a couple of salads," Buffy said.
Joyce's throat tightened again at the thought of food, but she made herself nod and said, "That's fine, honey."
She dug in her bag for her hairbrush, starting to work out the damp tangles. She didn't want to think any more about what had happened. She only wanted to have everything normal again.
"Well," Giles cleared his throat, "I'd best be off."
Buffy got up from her seat on the bed. "You're not staying?"
He smiled and ducked his head, flushing. "You'll want to spend time with your dad tomorrow," he said quietly. "And I have things to take care of back home."
"Like making sure Wes hasn't wrecked the place?" she smirked.
"Among other things," he said, and Joyce felt like an entire conversation took place between them that she didn't understand.
The same way she didn't understand so much in her life. The same way she felt so helpless, all the time....
Like a rubber band breaking, something snapped. All at once, she could no longer hold on and all the emotions of the past twenty-four hours came rushing to the surface. She gasped, struggling to take a breath, and what she expelled was a sob. The hairbrush slipped from her fingers as her legs collapsed.
Rupert caught her before she fell and eased her back onto the bed. She was crying so hard, she didn't even make a sound, silent, wracking sobs. She curled fetally, her fist covering her mouth. She felt a hand stroking her shoulder and back, she felt rather than heard, soothing noises. She wasn't even sure why she was crying. She just knew she couldn't stop. It hurt, God, it hurt, the pain, the confusion, the grief... it all came out in a rush, swept away on rivers of tears.
Until eventually there were no tears left. And the pain, though still acute, had blunted somewhat.
"Buffy, bring me a wet face flannel and a glass of water," Rupert said, and she heard her daughter go into the next room. A moment later, she felt herself lifted into strong arms as a gentle hand wiped her face with a warm damp cloth, and held a glass for her as she drank.
He settled her against him, and she rested her head on his shoulder, struggling to find nonexistent composure, finally giving up and succumbing to the sanctuary of his arms, her face turned toward his chest.
She stayed like that for a long time, it seemed, struggling to simply breathe in, breathe out, until she opened her eyes, raised her head, and saw Buffy standing next to her, tears in her eyes, her lower lip trembling. She reached out and Buffy came into her arms, sitting with her, holding her tight. Rupert was still beside her, supporting her, and she knew without even seeing it that he held Buffy, too.
Finally, she raised her head, wiping at her tears. Buffy sniffed, blinking back her own tears.
"I'm okay," Joyce said with what little voice she had left. "Mom's had her breakdown, she'll be fine now." She wasn't fine; she knew it and Buffy knew it. But somehow the pain was a little less now, her mind was a little clearer.
"I'm so sorry, Mom," Buffy whispered. "I never wanted you to get involved in any of this."
"It's okay, honey, I-"
"No, it's not okay," Buffy protested. "I have to do this. You don't."
Joyce smiled sadly. "Yes, I do."
"No, you don't," Buffy insisted.
"Sure I do. Because you're my daughter and I love you."
Buffy stared at her, stunned. And then she was hugging her mother again, fiercely.
"I just wish I could be as brave and strong as you are," Joyce said once the hug broke.
"It's only 'cause I have to be," Buffy said. "Most of the time I don't feel brave at all. I get scared, all the time. But I do it because I have to. Because I'm the one who can." Her voice was soft, its tone sad.
"And you couldn't do nothing, knowing you could act," Joyce said. "I understand that now."
Buffy's eyes were big and tear-filled. "Do you also understand how much I need you?" she said. "Knowing you're there, knowing you love me? Knowing that after I kill the monsters and destroy the vampires I can go home and Mom'll make me hot cocoa and we'll talk about dumb, boring, day-to-day things and I can pretend that I'm a normal girl. Just for a little while. That's why I don't want you involved. Because I need one part of my life that's normal. One person for whom I'm Buffy first, the slayer second."
This time it was Joyce who pulled her daughter back into her arms, holding her precious child so close to her heart.
"I love you, Mom," Buffy murmured.
"I love you, too, honey." Joyce stroked her daughter's hair. "So very much."
Buffy sniffed. "Whoever said you were all grown up at eighteen was lying."
Joyce chuckled. "I've got some bad news, sweetheart. Sometimes you don't feel all grown up at forty-two, either."
"Oh, swell," Buffy muttered.
There was a knock on the door and Joyce and Buffy straightened.
"That must be our dinner," Buffy said.
"Uh, I'll get it," Rupert said and went to the door. Joyce blinked. She'd actually forgotten he was there. He'd been so quiet.... She smiled to herself. Quiet support, that was Rupert Giles.
He came back in with the tray, and Joyce excused herself to go wash her face. When she came out, Rupert and Buffy were standing by the door, Rupert with a hand on Buffy's shoulder.
"I'll see you when you get back," he was saying.
She nodded. "Thanks for everything. Again." She grinned and he smiled. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek and they both blushed as she moved back into the room, leaving him and Joyce in the entryway.
They stood there awkwardly for a moment, not quite sure where to look, not quite sure what to say.
"I can't even find the words to thank you," she began softly.
"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked. "I mean, I...I can...."
"I'll be fine," she smiled, sounding a little more confident than she felt. But she could tell the crisis was over, she was more or less back together.
"If you need anything...."
"I know. We can call. We should be fine. We're just going to get some sleep tonight and then tomorrow we'll go and see Hank again."
"Good," he smiled. "Well, uh...I'll..I'll see you when you get back."
"Okay."
They gazed at each other awkwardly for a moment, then she extended a hand. He took it in his and she used it to close the gap between them. She reached up to kiss his cheek, but he cupped the side of her face in his palm and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. The gesture surprised her, as did the little thump her heart gave at the touch.
Though she didn't know why she should be surprised.
He let her go, his eyes bright with affection. "Good night, Joyce," he murmured.
"Good night," she whispered, and he let himself out.
The door closed behind him and Joyce stared at it for a moment before turning around. Buffy was watching her intently.
"Wow, would'ja just feel the sparks," she said.
"What?" Joyce tried to brush it off but Buffy laughed.
"Never mind. Not sure I'm ready to go there anyway. Do you want the julienne or the chicken caesar?"
Joyce blinked at the abrupt mood shift, then realized Buffy was talking about the food. She still wasn't very hungry, but at least the thought of food didn't nauseate her. She picked up her hairbrush and sat again on the bed. "I don't know. Why don't you bring them both over and we can just...nibble."
Buffy nodded, picking up the tray. "Lemonade or iced tea?"
"Tea," Joyce said and Buffy grinned. The question was perfunctory; Joyce always took the tea, Buffy always wanted the lemonade.
Joyce finished brushing her hair and Buffy set the tray on the bed, climbing next to her mother. "So should I see what's on cable?"
"Sure," Joyce smiled, sliding her feet under the covers and propping the pillows against the headboard. They uncovered the salads, pulling the tray between them, and Buffy grabbed the remote, snuggling down in the bed and channel surfing until they hit upon some decent looking but fairly mindless movie. They nibbled their salad and watched the movie in silence, just like any number of nights spent in front of the tube watching old movies and eating junk food with the mother-daughter camaraderie Joyce always found so precious.
Until her eyes started to close. "Honey, if you want to finish watching the movie, you can, but I think I'm going to go to sleep."
"No, it's okay," Buffy said, turning off the tv, "I've seen that one anyway. It's got a stupid ending." She set the tray in the hall, then locked the door for the night. She went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and Joyce slid down under the covers, sighing as her body began to relax, muscle by muscle.
Buffy came back out, turned off the light and slid into her bed. "'Night, Mom."
"Good night, honey."
Joyce lay there, listening to the silence, feeling her body unwind and wondering why she wasn't falling asleep. Granted, the day had been stressful enough to give anyone nightmares, but she was so tired....
"Mom?" Buffy's voice was soft in the darkness.
"Mmm?"
"Can...can I stay with you?"
Joyce smiled. Even brave, strong slayers were still just little girls, little girls who wanted, needed their moms. "Of course, honey," she said. "Come on." She slid over and Buffy came across, crawling into the bed next to her mother. Her arms came around her and she hugged her tight. Joyce held on, grateful to have her daughter in her arms, thanking every god she could possibly think of for this chance.
The hug eased and they settled down, curled on their sides, facing each other. Buffy reached across, touching Joyce's hand, and she intertwined their fingers.
Joyce closed her eyes, content, knowing that she'd be able to sleep now.
They stopped in front of Giles' place, and Buffy's mother turned off the car.
"You sure you don't mind?" Buffy asked. They'd just gotten back into town and Buffy had wanted to see Giles right away, even before they went home. Not that anything was wrong, it wasn't. Her dad was recovering, there were no more demons, she and her mom had actually spent a great weekend doing mother/daughter bonding things. But Giles was so much a part of what had happened, she wanted to see him, tell him how everything was okay now.
"No, I don't mind," Joyce answered. "I don't want to stay long, because I've got things I need to do tonight, and you've got school tomorrow."
"We won't. I just want him to know how it went."
Her mother smiled. "Yeah, I think we owe him that much."
They got out of the car and went to his door, knocking.
He looked surprised to see them. "Hello! Welcome back." He held the door open for them. "Did you just get in?"
"We haven't even been home yet," Joyce said. "Buffy wanted to stop by here first."
"I'm glad you did," he closed the door behind them. "I was just about to put the kettle on. Tea?"
"Thanks," Joyce said and Buffy rolled her eyes, grinning at him. No matter what, Giles made tea.
He went into the kitchen and Buffy perched on one of the stools in front of the pass-through. There was this cool looking pendant sort of thing sitting there, looked kind of like a tiny ornate carved barbell. She started fiddling with it and he took it out of her hands, setting it aside with a glance that told her that whatever it was, it wasn't meant to be played with, but that he wasn't about to explain it to her right now.
"So how did everything go?" he asked, setting the kettle to boil. "How is Hank?"
"Okay," Buffy replied. "I mean, still beat up and everything, but getting stronger. He spent most of yesterday sleeping, but he was awake more this morning. The doctors think he'll make a full recovery."
"That is good news."
"Yeah." Then she frowned. "He still doesn't know what happened."
"Does he remember any of it?"
"Well...he kind of remembers bits of things, but nothing that makes any sense to him. He thinks the weird, nightmare-type stuff is because of the coma. So sorta not really."
"Then you don't think he needs to be told what really happened."
"What good would that do?" Joyce asked. "Give him something else to be scared about?"
Giles looked at her sharply, but Buffy knew what she meant. They'd talked a lot about it. Not because they especially wanted to, but because it was what they were both thinking about, so it just seemed easier to talk about it. She knew that her mother was only barely coping with it all-not just the attack but the whole slayer thing. She'd said the worst part wasn't knowing that things like that existed; the worst part was being scared, all the time. Not just for herself, but for Buffy, and for everyone else.
"I think he just figures it's all kind of like a dream," Buffy said. "If he starts to really remember, then...yeah, maybe then."
Giles nodded. "All right. Well, if he does...."
"We'll deal with it," she said. "The way we deal with everything." She sighed, looking around the counter top for something else to fiddle with. He always had such cool things lying around. "So anyway, everything's back to normal." He looked at her again and she realized that must have sounded sort of...disappointed. It wasn't that she missed the terror and the fear, but it hadn't been all bad.
Her mother was leaning against the wall by the pass-through, and she picked up the thread. "Yes, just like normal," she sighed. "Hank gave me a hard time for pulling Buffy out of school on Friday, and this morning we wound up arguing over...oh, I can't even remember now. Something stupid."
"How you stack the newspaper," Buffy supplied with a grimace.
"How he stacks the newspaper," Joyce corrected primly.
Giles struggled to suppress a smile. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Nah," Joyce dismissed. "At least it's familiar."
Buffy found a small jar of colored sand and was turning it around, watching the sand spill in patterns. "Not that we spent all our time at the hospital, of course."
"Oh?"
"Well, we were there every day, but we didn't stay all day. Hospitals..." she shuddered, "...still give me the wig. Besides, I think we made Kathy nervous. Kathy's Dad's new girlfriend," she leaned in and her voice dropped conspiratorially, "and boy, is she a trophy."
Giles grinned. "Oh, I see." It had been textbook awkward; her dad in the hospital bed, Buffy and her mom on one side, Kathy on the other.... And then Maryanne from the office came by and.... And it all go to be kind of much. Her poor father, at one point, he looked like he was sorry he was awake.
"Now, honey, she was very nice," Joyce admonished. "Very young. But nice."
Giles laughed. "So what did you do if you weren't at hospital?"
Buffy gave him a look. She wasn't ever sure whether it was because he was a guy or because he was English or both, but he really didn't 'get' girl stuff. "Giles, it's LA. We shopped!"
"Ah," he nodded sagely. "Of course."
Her mom smiled. "In fact, she even shopped a little bit on her dad's credit card, so something good came out of all this."
"Mo-om," Buffy scolded. "I would have rather had him not in the hospital at all." Then she shrugged. "But it was still kinda good, spending that time there. With him, and," she glanced at her mother, "with each other." Her mother smiled and so did Giles, exchanging a look that Buffy thought was full of conversations, even if nothing was ever said.
"It was good to get away for awhile, just the two of us," Joyce elaborated. "We did some really heavy-duty mother-daughter bonding."
"Chick-flicks," Buffy added, "buying shoes, chocolate sundaes." She looked at her mother, who was smiling at her. "And talking. Lots of talking."
"That's good," Giles said. Yet another look between him and her mother.
"Yeah," Buffy agreed, "it was."
The tea kettle whistled and he made the tea, conversation lulling while he worked. Joyce watched him intently and Buffy realized that they probably wanted to talk, but didn't feel like they could with her there.
Okay, then, she wouldn't be there for a few minutes. "'Scuse me," she said, getting up and taking herself to the bathroom. She closed the door and immediately bent to the keyhole, listening. She couldn't hear much, their voices were muffled. She thought she heard him ask her if she was all right, but she couldn't hear her mother's reply.
She wasn't all right, not really. She wasn't sleeping well, waking during the night with, not quite nightmares, at least Buffy didn't think so, but weird, disjointed dreams. Or so she said. She said they weren't scary, they were just...disturbing.
Still, for all the trauma and everything, they'd really enjoyed themselves. Shopping, going to movies, but mostly talking. Talking like they hadn't talked in...forever. She'd finally told her mother everything about Angel. That had been hard, but afterwards, she'd been glad she'd done it.
And they talked about Giles. A lot, actually. Her mom wouldn't ever come out and say it, but it was obvious she really liked Giles. The closest she came to admitting how she felt was when they talked a little about what had happened with the candy. Buffy got the impression that maybe more than she knew about had happened between her mother and her watcher, but her mother refused to say anything about it and Buffy didn't think she really wanted to know anyway. But when she asked her mother if she thought the candy had made her feel things she wouldn't have felt otherwise, she answered "no".
She wasn't sure how she felt about her mother and her watcher being buddies. Or more than buddies. After this weekend, she realized she really didn't want her parents to get back together. Seeing them together, through older, more experienced eyes, made her see how much it was really over. They didn't hate each other, maybe they even still loved each other a little. But they both managed to bring out the worst in each other, and when they were together, it hurt.
But that didn't mean she wanted someone new taking her father's place, either.
Except Giles wasn't someone new, he was Giles. Her watcher. The person who cared most about her, next to her mother. And he seemed to care about her mother, too. He's sure been good with her throughout all of this. And then there was that good night kiss at the hotel Friday night.... Even she could feel the sparks from that one, half a room away.
She couldn't decide if the idea of Giles and her mother getting together was a good one. She could see all sorts of trouble spots ahead. Most of which were named Buffy. Or, more accurately, "slayer". But she wouldn't stand in the way of anybody's happiness. She'd done that before, with Ms. Calendar, and Giles was still suffering for it. She wouldn't do it again.
Deciding she'd been gone long enough ,she flushed the toilet and came out. Her mother and Giles were standing by the door, her hands in his, speaking softly.
"I'll see she gets home safely," Giles was saying.
"Thanks," Joyce said, then heard Buffy and turned her head toward her daughter. "Oh, honey, I'm going to go. Mr. Giles will bring you home later."
"You want me to come with you?" Buffy asked. She didn't want her mother to have to mess with all of the unpacking and the laundry by herself.
"No, that's okay, I'm sure you and Mr. Giles have things you need to talk about. I'll see you at home."
"Okay."
She turned back to Giles. "I'll...talk to you later," he said and leaned in, giving her a soft kiss on the lips. She put her arms around him for a hug. Then she slipped from his arms, ducking her head a little in embarrassment, and went out the door.
He closed the door and turned around.
"So, did I give you guys long enough?" Buffy asked.
He blinked at her. "Pardon?"
"Whatever you guys needed to say to each other."
His mouth opened but no sound came out. "What? We didn't-"
"Or why else were you making 'meaningful eyes' at each other?"
"M..meaningful eyes?" He stammered.
"And that smooch when she left just now," she added.
More gaping. "We...we were...."
"You know," she said, perching back on the stool, "I don't really mind if you want to, you know, see my mom. I mean, especially after seeing her and my dad together again. I know they're never gonna get back together. So if you want to...you know...."
Giles stared at her, stunned. "Buffy, I assure you that your mother and I are merely friends. And new friends at that. Neither of us are considering anything more than-"
"Anyway, I just wanted you to know I'm cool with it," Buffy went on. Now that she'd made up her mind about this, she wanted to make sure he knew how she felt.
"Except for two things."
He blinked at her, as if trying to figure out what to say. "And what's that?"
"No PDA. I mean, it was bad enough with the candy, and that time you guys weren't really in control of what you were doing. But it would be just too freaky to see it for real, so I don't want to walk in on you guys making out on the couch or something."
"Trust me, you have nothing to worry about," he said. But she thought she saw something in his eyes, something she didn't want to think too carefully about. Something that said that given half the chance.... No, she wasn't going there.
Then she got deadly serious. "And if you hurt her, I'll kill you." It didn't matter that he was her watcher and that she loved him. She loved her mother more. And if he ever did anything to hurt her, he'd find out just how much damage a pissed off slayer could do.
He stared at her intensely for a moment, his love and respect for her shining out above anything else he might have been feeling. "I have no intention of ever hurting your mother," he said, giving the matter the gravity it deserved. "Or you."
They stared at each other for a long moment, complete understanding passing between them. "Cool," Buffy smiled. "So." She hopped down from the stool. "Finish making the tea and tell me how everything's been here."
Giles chuckled and went back into the kitchen, collecting the tea things. He handed her her cup and escorted her to a seat on the couch, sitting at her side, sipping his tea.
And the watcher and the slayer spent the evening talking.