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PART 10 Joyce burst through the door, immediately searching for, locating and then running toward Buffy. Afraid that Buffy would react by lashing out physically – and knowing that she had no idea of her strength here on Earth – Angel leapt in between them, shielding Buffy from Joyce's onslaught. "Get the *hell* out of my way!" Joyce raged. "Mrs. Summers, please. Wait!" "Wait? Is that the idea – you two keeping me away from my daughter? And *you*," she spat, turning to Giles. "You are a part of this… this brainwashing?" "Brainwash–" "What did you do to her?" The woman raged at Angel, as Buffy moved farther and farther out of the room, clearly terrified. "What did you do to my daughter?" "Mrs. Summers…. Please, I didn't –" "Joyce… please calm down. You are frightening, Buffy –" Giles implored. "*Frightening* her! She's my *daughter*. How long have you been back? If it hadn't been for Xander, was I *ever* going to know? She's *my* daughter, not yours. I have been worried sick. And *you*," she bit out, staring at Angel as if to kill him with a look. "You can't be with her. You were supposed to bring her home and then leave. Haven't you already caused enough damage?" "Nay, nay, nay, nay, *nay*, NAY!" Buffy released a wailing scream and ran up the stairs. "Buffy!" Joyce called out and moved toward the stairs only to be blocked by Angel. "Get out of my way!" "Sit down," Angel bit out. "Don't you tell me –" "I said, SIT DOWN. Now," Angel shouted. Joyce, clearly afraid, fell onto the couch. He turned his back to her. "Faith - Garden's that way. Take it outside." "Hey, wait a minute, Buddy –" "Faith, please. Just do as he asks," Giles sighed. With an audible huff, Faith stormed out of the room. "Now. *Joyce*," Angel hissed, glaring down at her, "you are going to listen to me and stay quiet. Is that understood?" Joyce flounced back onto the couch and crossed her arms, looking so similar to Buffy that for a moment Angel lost his mental footing. He quickly recovered though, remembering Buffy's terror and knowing that, even if Buffy didn't remember this woman, she held a lot of power and he was going to make sure she didn't abuse it with her still-healing daughter. "Alright then, now that we're clear," he said, dropping himself to sit on the coffee table in front of Joyce's seat. "Joyce, there are some things you need to know and you need to pay *careful* attention. I know you love your daughter, and I know you're upset but… please Joyce," Angel said, his voice softening. "Please, just listen and don't interrupt." She looked up, her eyes now frightened, and after a moment, nodded. "Tell me." *** "So she doesn't remember *anything*? Are you sure? Maybe there's some brain trauma... you said she'd been… hurt. Maybe with the right treatment–" Her brother Mark was a surgeon at L.A. Medical Center – surely he had access to some of the best neurosurgeons out there.... "Joyce… it's the nature of what… of what was done. She… it's not like she was in an accident. It was magic – ancient magic – that healed her and took away her memories. She… the people that hurt… it's just part of what happened. To her, Earth is a place of legend, not a place she's ever lived. They… suffice it to say the memory loss isn't reversible. You'll need to just build a new relationship with Buffy… and with the Buffy that she is now." Joyce frowned. "How much *does* she remember?" She couldn't wrap her head around this. *Magic* did this? And who would want to hurt her daughter? And what did Angel know anyway? Medicine had changed a lot since the time he was human. He likely wouldn't know of many of the newest techniques. They'd learned so much more about how the brain worked even in the last twenty years. "Joyce… she…. When Angel found her, she could no longer speak English. He spent some time re-teaching her the basics but you'll hear… she has a strong accent and at times her syntax is confusing. She's also… well, she's much more modest than she used to be… she's…. You must understand that time moves differently in the Betharan dimension – where her kidnappers took her – and for her it's been over twenty-three *years* time since she left Earth. Given the, erm, trauma she endured, I'm impressed that she survived it emotionally, at all. I'm sorry, Joyce, I'm not a parent – and I can't imagine what these past few weeks have been for you – not knowing – but to her, it's been quite a bit longer and we must…. I encourage you to be patient with her. I offer you any assistance I am able to give –" "And you?" Joyce asked Angel. "It's not– Look Angel, I know you care about Buffy, I do. But your situation…. Even if the curse weren't an issue, she's a young– She deserves a full life, with someone who is, well, human, who can give her a normal life. I appreciate your work to get her back – you have no idea how much and how grateful I will always be to you – but Buffy… she, quite frankly – and I'm sorry to be hurtful - deserves more. And now, now that Faith is here, Buffy can rest and recover and have all those things. And I feel strongly that if she's had as hard a time as you say, she shouldn't slay anymore. I feel certain of that. Look, the kids came over for dinner one night – this Faith seems to love slaying. And her personality is so much better suited to it – I'm sure she's a natural. It's clear to me that Buffy needs a new outlook: rest, some medical treatment, time with her friends and no slaying. Given time, she can move on and embrace this new chapter in her life… go to college – have a normal, healthy, happy *human* life –" "With all due respect, Joyce, if Angel – well, I believe if Angel were to leave at this time, it could cause irreparable damage to her. She's – Joyce, I'm as aware of the curse and the damage a break can cause – probably more aware of it than *anyone* – I… I'm sorry Angel, I didn't –" "It's alright," Angel said sadly. "Go on." "Yes, well, I… I just believe that this isn't a case of 'a boyfriend being selfish or manipulative of a situation so they can stay together.' She's…. He's all she's *known*, Joyce. Her life before the rescue… I'll leave it to Buffy to give you the details, but suffice it to say, it was, well, horrible is putting it mildly. I just – I encourage you to keep an open mind and follow Buffy's cues. She may well grow up to be a 'normal girl' as you put it but… well, she's a different person now, as Angel says… and also, before you get your hopes up, Buffy may find that she *needs* to slay. As the Slayer, she has more energy then the average human and has certain instincts –" "With all due respect, Rupert, she's *my* daughter. My daughter who was *kidnapped* by the people *you* work for. So forgive me if –" "Buffy?" Angel's quiet voice stunned Joyce to silence and turning around, she saw Buffy reluctantly coming down the stairs again. Fully facing her daughter, calmer than before, she was shocked to see that Buffy did indeed look completely different than she had before. Her hair was almost to her waist and a dark dirty blonde. She wore a shapeless dirt brown dress – more a robe, really – and Native American-type calfskin boots that laced up to her knees. She was thinner than before and seemed incredibly shy. Her normally vibrant daughter looked like she'd disappear if she could. In a heartbeat. Taking a deep breath and fighting back tears, Joyce decided to take Angel and Giles' words to heart and approach her slowly, stopping after several steps when she noticed Buffy backing away to the stairs again. Fearing Buffy would run, she decided to forego the hug she wanted desperately and just talk to her from eight feet away. "Buffy, it's Mommy. Do you remember me?" Buffy's eyes narrowed with suspicion and she ignored Joyce, addressing Angel in a guttural tongue unlike any language Joyce had ever heard. "Trgh th'aht dri, Engel?" "No, Buffy," Angel said, staring pointedly into Joyce's eyes as he responded. "I'm not leaving you. I promise you that." Joyce wanted to throttle him. How dare he get in the way of Buffy's life? *Again*? Well, they'd cross that bridge soon enough. Angel was in denial and once Buffy was better they could revisit her human/Slayer existence. And his misplaced desire to spend his life with her. "Buffy, this is Joyce, your Mother. You used to call her 'Mom'. Joyce, this is Buffy." Angel was still looking deeply into Joyce's eyes but instead of a challenge, he seemed to be enlisting her sympathy… asking her silently to go along with Buffy's limited memory and speak to Buffy on her level. "Hallo, Joyce," Buffy said, with a slight bow. Joyce did her best to not show her discomfort but knew she was so shocked at the change, she was probably failing miserably. "It's so good to see you again, honey. I've missed you so much. You don't remember me," Joyce broke off, failing now to hold back her tears, "but I remember you and I love you and I've *missed* you. Please try to trust me when I say these things, okay, honey?" Buffy's eyes narrowed as if evaluating the risk of trusting her own mother but then gave a slight nod. "Buffy, I'm glad you came downstairs again. I think it would be a good idea to discuss living arrangements, school and so on. Why don't we sit down?" Giles suggested. Joyce was moved that Buffy kept looking at her until it occurred to her that Buffy was watching her as if to evaluate the risk of an attack. Her stomach turned when she thought about how she had entered Angel's home, at how her actions must have appeared to Buffy. After watching Buffy and Angel take the one couch, Buffy holding onto his hand "for dear life", Joyce sat opposite them with Giles. Not able to stop herself, she asked, as lightly as possible (and fully aware that she was failing abysmally), "So, Buffy, I take it you stayed here last night?" Angel frowned but nodded to Buffy, as if giving her permission to speak. Joyce didn't like that. "Nay – naw. Engel set … it wahzn't … seff to … steh ….wit' heem on Eart'. Mistah Giles … hih let me steh … wit heem." Joyce was stunned to silence. She didn't know what to say. She… she couldn't speak English. They'd said … but she hadn't grasped how bad it was. Looking up, she could see Angel smiling encouragingly at Buffy. Encouraging her *speech*. Oh dear God. Joyce was suddenly hyperaware of her surroundings. Angel had a clock nearby. It was loud and sort of uneven. The tick was definitely louder than the tock. It was funny; she had a clock that did the same thing at the gallery. Did all clocks do that? She'd left the gallery unattended – locked – but she'd flown out of there so quickly. And where was Xander? She'd thought he'd follow – At Giles' tactful cough, she realized they were all waiting for her to say something more and she'd just completely zoned out. This was…. Okay, Joy. Just need to say calm. Focus on the task at hand. "Well, Buffy… I'd like it… I… What would you think about staying with me? I'd like it very much if you came home and stayed with me," Joyce said with what she hoped was an encouraging smile. Buffy looked startled and Joyce's heart broke watching her look at Angel… looking like she was pleading with him to save her. "I… I don' know. I…, Engel, dri na'tak brit shel – " Buffy began to cry. Joyce felt immediately uncomfortable – badly for how she had treated Angel yet angry that he'd put her in an impossible situation. Angel wrapped Buffy in his arms and held her tightly. She could hear snatches of his whisperings to her: "… be okay, Buffy… visit… try… alone, okay?" After a few moments, Buffy pulled back a little and retook his hand in hers, staring down at them, mesmerized. Suddenly, Buffy looked up and pierced Joyce's gaze. "I weel go wit' you, Joyce. I weel try. Baht… I weel nawt stop slayink. I hard you from de stars – *stehrs* – I am duh Slayer. Wih kem back to Eart' so I could slay – to guard duh Hellmout'. I suppose to help guard duh Hellmout'... wit' Engel… wit' Fait'." Buffy was coming home – coming *home* with her. They'd deal with the slaying issue later but for now…. "I'm happy you'll come with me. Thank you. Shall we?" Joyce said, holding out her hand and dropping it once she saw the look of cold hard determination in her daughter's face. "Yes. Wih go." Without another word, Joyce followed her soldier like little girl out of the house and to the car. ***
"Mrs. Summers –" "Angel, I will tell her you came by but … I'd feel better if she had some time away from you – or rather, some time just the two of us. She needs to adjust back to her life here and she can't do that with –" "You can't keep me from seeing her. I'm sorry, Mrs. Summers - if you think that this is about my own selfish agenda, it isn't. This is about Buffy and if you won't let me see her, I will –" "Don't you threaten me, young man! I am her mother and she is sick and needs to recover. You can come back… give her a few days. Come back on Sunday and if she wants to see you then, then I'll allow it, but for now, she is resting in bed and will see no one. Goodbye, Angel." Angel's mouth dropped open as the Summers' front door slammed in his face. Was she out of her mind? And she thought *he* was selfish? Taking a deep breath, struggling, he realized, to keep his demon face from coming to the fore, he rested his head against the door. She was so close. Joyce was right – a break for a day or two *would* be good because he wanted her, physically - so badly it hurt. Yes, his reasons for wanting to see her weren't entirely noble. That said, they weren't as un-noble as Joyce suspected. But the "not entirely noble" portion worried him when he allowed himself to think about it. He wanted to sink into her warmth – he wanted to hear her moan next to his ear, feel her body, her breath, her hands, her mouth. God, he was hard as a rock just thinking about her. And so frustrated. He'd been spoiled in Bethara, he knew that. There, he had her in his bed it was true, but also he had her all to himself. It was a luxury and again, he was bitterly reminded that the curse was a *curse*. Here was evidence if ever there were any. Allowing himself to "breathe her in" one last time, he turned and began to walk away purposely from the house – gonna go find something to *kill*- stopping in his tracks when he heard some very human rustling from the bushes behind him. Turning around, he was unable to stop a broad smile from his face. "Not very stealthy of you, love," he teased, wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight. Kissing her forehead, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "How much of that did you hear?" "All of it," she said, reverting to her "native" tongue. "I had a feeling, a sense... it was like I knew you were coming – strange, right? – and I also had a feeling – but this was more of a mental thing – that Joyce was not going to let me out of that house. She's been… she won't leave me alone, Angel. She's constantly checking on me. Finally, I… well, I told her I wanted to sleep and that I could only sleep with the door locked. I'm sorry, I know you want me to try but it is the truth… I don't want to sleep without a lock, it's… I just don't feel safe - I'm sorry - I know -" "Shh… it's okay," he replied, holding her again. And knowing it was bad – very bad - to encourage this thing between them but unable to stop himself – God, he missed her – he flirted: "So you think she's onto us?" "Onto us?" "She'll figure it out – where you are – I mean." "Oh, no. I don't think she will be 'on us', as you say. Angel… even if you hadn't come, I needed to…. Since it became night, I have had this weird feeling. I heard Giles before – when he was talking about instincts and the instinct to slay– I think… I think I'm feeling that. It's weird. It's like I have this energy and I need to run – a LOT – or something. Or," she said, seductively, running her index finger down along his collarbone and toward the center of his chest, "burn it off in some other– Oh, God, I'm sorry! I'm sorry. Angel, I'm sorry." He knew it was innocent. But God, it was painful when she did that. Her voice was so… erotic. This was an adjustment for both of them, right? "I could kill something demonic," he stated lightly, hoping after-the-fact that she wouldn't make the sex talk equals urge to kill connection. "Shall we?" he said, with a slight smile, holding out his hand to her. She smiled a glowing smile and they began to walk towards the nearest cemetery. *** 'Well, this place is dead' – a statement he'd made innocently and ultimately gladly when Buffy began to laugh so hard she ended up sitting on the ground in Sunnyrest, unable to catch her breath. He couldn't remember having seen her laugh that hard in so long… *so* long. Certainly not since they'd been reunited. In a way, the dead state of Sunnyrest was a good thing because, having just gotten back, she hadn't really had any opportunities to fight with all of her strength. He knew adjustments would have to be made to the techniques he'd taught her on Bethara. She had no clue how much power she had. Quite frankly he'd forgotten the extent of it himself. When he landed flat on his back for the first time, it all came back to him. Fighting Buffy hurt. "I'm sorry – I'm so sorry! Are you okay?" she said, horrified, quickly reaching down and pulling him to standing. "I'm fine. This is good. Really good," he said, struggling to hide his pain. "Watch your right shoulder, you're dropping it a bit. Let's try again." Concentrating much harder than in the weeks before – he was sure if he were still in his more human state as on Bethara, he'd be drenched with sweat – he rushed her again, this time feinting to his right before sweeping up behind her. Unbelievably, she caught the move. Either he was getting tired – which was possible – or she was even better than she'd been before she'd left. But that was so long ago. Using all of his concentration, he managed to gain the upper hand, only to be thrown through the air from behind, pinned to the ground and narrowly not-staked when Faith pulled her "punch" at the last second. "Geez, Angel. I'm sorry. I just saw B getting the shit beat out of her, and ran in to the rescue," Faith shrugged, grinding her groin into his as she stood up. Was that intentional? What was going on here? "B, you okay? Looks like you're a bit out of practice," Faith patronized. "Maybe you should see Giles for some training. He'll fix you up right." Angel mentally cringed when he got a look at Buffy's face. Buffy'd clearly seen the bump-and-grind move and if looks could kill, Faith would have been ash long before scattered to the wind. "I okay. Engel? You okay?" Buffy asked, tense. "Yeah. But that was a little close for comfort." Angel frowned, pulling Buffy into his chest from behind and holding her close… kissing her neck. Two could play Faith's game. He wanted the flirting done, now. The last thing they needed was more trouble. *** "Where the *Hell* have you been?" Buffy froze as she climbed into her bedroom window, locking eyes with her mother who was seated in the dark on Buffy's bed. She was clearly furious. "I –" "Save it! You lied to me! You said you needed privacy and I respected that despite the fact that I don't want to let you out of my sight… and this is the thanks I get? I forbid you to go out again. If I need to lock you in here myself, you are NOT going outside again at night. I don't care about what Mr. Giles said. It's not safe. I just got you back – what if they kidnap you again?" "Naw, naw. Dey kent tek me again. Engel said…. Hee weel –" "Protect you? Save you?" Joyce snorted. "Well, he didn't do such a bang up job last time. How's this any different? You will NOT see him again. If I have to lock you in here for good, you will not see him again! Are we clear? He's a bad influence and I'll not –" "Plihz, Joyce! Plihz! I nihd heem. Plihz, Joyce. I nihd heem." "He's exactly what you *don't* need. He will get you killed. He's a *demon*, Buffy. He hurt you. You don't remember it but he hurt you, greatly. You are not to see him anymore. It's time for you to live *your* life, put Bethara behind you and move on. I have every intention of making sure you get the life you deserve and trust me, he's not it." Buffy stared in disbelief at her mother and then whirled and moved quickly toward the window. "Where are you going? Buffy, no!!" Joyce screamed, grabbing Buffy's shoulders and turning her towards her. "Naw! Let me go!!!" Buffy pulled herself away, inadvertently flinging Joyce into the bed frame. Joyce collapsed with a groan and lay unmoving on the floor, blood trickling down her cheek. Buffy's eyes widened in horror. "Joyce?" she whispered, kneeling beside her and holding a hand under her nose. Her mother was breathing but she wasn't sure what to do. "Joyce? Ah, d'rak tnik! Joyce!! Nay, nay. D'rak tnik!" Her mother's eyes opened and she looked up at her. "Buffy?" Buffy cowered beside her on the floor, her eyes filled with tears. "I sorry, I sorry. Plihz, I sorry. Plihz don’ hurt me. I didn' mihn. Plihz don' hurt –" "Buffy? How did I-? Did you *hit* me, Buffy?" Joyce asked, mystified. "I didn' mihn. Plihz. I sorry. I jus' … Plihz, I nihd heem. I wahz a-fred. I sorry. I didn' mihn…," Buffy sobbed. "Buffy, honey. It's okay. Calm down, I know you didn't mean it. Okay? I'm fine. It was a mistake. It's okay, sweetie." Joyce reached out to comfort her daughter. Buffy scooted back into the corner of the room away from the threat and wrapped her arms around her knees and began to rock herself. Resigned, Joyce leaned back against Buffy's bed and absently touched her temple. She was bleeding. She sat silently, her head throbbing – numbly staring at her blood covered hand - and listened to the inconsolable sobs of her daughter in the corner of her bedroom. She was lost.
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