Creative Works   

Brother Dearest (Part 4)
By sugar7999
jgirl519(at)hotmail.com

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to the WB, mutant enemy, whatever. Except the ones I made up. Don't sue unless you want to get a bottle of hairgel and a magazine subscription.

. . .

Joyce glanced at the walls in her daughter's office. It was a lovely room. Broad oak doors, hunter green carpeting, a mahogany desk, two cedar cabinets, and on top of all that it was perfectly organized and very tidy. The mother of the slayer was seated in a teakwood chair, there

were two of them in front of Buffy's desk. Buffy sat behind the desk. She glanced up from the sketch she had been going over. Putting down her pencil, Buffy looked up at Joyce expectantly, knowing that the woman whom she called mom would want to start their little chat.

Buffy was tired that evening, and she wasn't in the mood to fight. Hell, she was always in the mood to fight, lets just say that tonight she was to tired to fight. So she had decided to act appropriately and maturely, even though she was really pissed at her mother and wanted to scream and yell at her. Joyce looked at Buffy.

"Well, it seems as though you've been busy, what with those kids and all."

Buffy smiled, this time a true smile. She loved talking about her two babies. "Yeah, I really have been. They're so tiring, but its always worth it to see those cute baby smiles.

The ice had been broken. Buffy and her mother began chatting like two old friends, about children, work, and life in general. Inside, Joyce was beaming. Buffy had grown up. She was mature, controlled, polite, and intelligent. Her daughter had changed immensley, but for the better.

Their conversation turned over to the subject of Buffy's life, running away, and slaying. Joyce feared for the worst. If she knew her daughter as well as she thought, Buffy would probably get defensive, upset, and most likely to the point of screaming.

But apparently Joyce didn't know her little girl as well as she thought. Buffy spoke calmly of her life as the slayer. She was apologetic and sorry that she had ran away.

Without any warning at all, a question that Joyce had been trying to suppress but couldn't burst out of her mouth in a jumble of words.

"Why Angelus? Why not Angel? I thought you loved Angel! Is Angelus just a replacement for him?"

Mrs. Summers put a hand over her mouth and gasped. She could not belive that she had just said that. Quickly her she scanned her eyes over Buffy's desk, in search of anything sharp that her daughter might have within reach. Her eyes rested on a silver medal opener. Shit. If she had pissed Buffy off as much as she thought she just had, Joyce knew damn well that that letter opener would somehow find its way into her heart. Buffy's office had a solid oak door. Nobody would be able to hear her scream. Shit.

Buffy's face hardened. She loved Angelus with all of her heart and soul. Angel had been great. So caring, thoughtful, sensitive, and kind. Angelus was all of those things, but he would never admit to it. He also had a mean streak. Buffy and Angelus's relationship was very much like that of the way Spike and Dru's used to be, except of course Buffy wasn't insane, Angelus wasn't British, and they didn't torture kittens on Saturday nights for fun. Angelus was ruthless, determined, and very stubborn. But when it came to her, he was an entirely different man. She wouldn't trade Angelus for Angel any day.

"Mother, darling, although this is absolutely none of your damn business, I'll enlighten you. I adore Angelus, and, as hard this must be for you to grasp, because I know how much you adore Angel, it's over between him and I. I love Angelus, my Angelus. Not Angel.

Joyce sighed heavily. She didn't care what Buffy said. Angelus was an imposter. Angel should have rightfully been her daughter's husband.

Buffy noticed her mother's distress.

"Look, Mom, if you like him so much why don't *you* go out with him?"

Joyce knew she had lost the argument. Briskly she stood up.

"Mom, will you please send Oz and Willow in here?"

Joyce nodded and left the room.

. . .

Willow, Xander, Oz, Cordelia, and Giles had all gone into the office. All of them were very surprised at the newfound maturity in the slayer. Buffy had talked to Xander, Willow, and Oz as her own self, not the phony she had been with Giles, Joyce, and Cordelia.

Rupert Giles stepped out of the office. He sat back down on the couch.

"Angel, Buffy will see you in five minutes," he said, leaning against the cushions.

Angel tried to hide his optimism. Finally, it would be his turn. He needed to find out for himself if Buffy still had feelings for him. This would be his chance.

Angelus was nervous. Horrid thoughts ran through his mind, all involving Buffy, Angel, sex, and a Xerox machine. What if Buffy divorced him for Angel? He could not live without *his* Buffy, he was certain. He loved her more than he loved himself. She loved him for who he was, a monster. She was the perfect woman, and she belonged to him. Angelus was very possessive, he even got jealous when Buffy smiled at the doorman. He would go crazy if someone else got to call Buffy their "girl" or "wife". She was his, and his only. Shawn started to whimper. Immediately Angelus abandoned his unpleasant thoughts and focused his attention on his son.

Everyone's thoughts were interrupted by the clicking sounds of bolts being unfastened and the front door opening.

"My damn wife sent me 'ove 'ere 'ta make sure you behave 'ya self, though I doubt my presence will make a bloody difference," said a heavily accented British voice.

Xander turned around. Spike. His second mortal enemy. Angelus was his first. Wait, no, scratch that. Spike was his third mortal enemy. Oz had stolen his Doritos's on the plane and Xander was still pissed at him.

"'Lo ducks!"

"William, go home! I'm having fun!" said Angelus.

"Yes, I'm sure you were," said Spike, ignoring the glare he got from Angelus as he picked up Shawn and started playing with him.

Angelus was giving his peroxide blond friend a look that would scare the living hell out of Medusa. He had been trying to get his son to sleep. Now the kid would probably be up all night, and that would make Buffy mad. And she would blame her husband. And he would have to sleep on the couch that night, and not with his beautiful wife.

Willow raised her eyebrows. Spike? Playing with a baby? Keeping the peace? Was she dreaming? And why in God's name wasn't he trying to rip her throat out?

Angel glanced at his watch. Five minutes had gone by. He stood up and walked into the office.

. . .

Page 4 of 8
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