I am a lowly ficcer, I owneth not a jot; I wish I worked with Joss & Co.-- But sadly, I do not!
"Sacred duty, yadda, yadda, yadda..." Read.
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Part Four
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Buffy was gone. Gone, because of what she'd said.
Joyce gripped the steering wheel tighter, so tight that her knuckles turned white. Buffy's note lay in a rumpled, creased mess on the passenger seat, and she had to force herself to keep driving, and not pull over and read it again.
She'd told her that if she left, she wasn't to come back. Joyce regretted the words as soon as she saw Buffy's eyes, staring back at her, disbelieving and full of pain. Buffy knew she hadn't meant them; she must have, otherwise she would've just packed up and gone without any other word.
She'd left the note. That, at least, meant there was a chance she'd come back.
Joyce navigated the streets mechanically. She knew the route to the school so well she could drive it in her sleep, and that's what it felt like she was doing. Sleepwalking through her life, as if it was all some kind of bad dream.
Buffy's a vampire Slayer, and she's run away from home. Joyce felt a brittle smile crack her lips for a moment. A nightmare described her life perfectly.
How long had she been oblivious? Buffy'd said two years. That meant that the trouble she'd been in in Los Angeles had something to do with it; she'd never really opened up about why she'd burned the buildings down, and Joyce had never asked. And then, once they'd moved to Sunnydale, she'd turned a blind eye to everything her daughter did. How many times she washed blood out of Buffy's clothes? She couldn't remember, and it frightened her. Joyce shivered as she realized that her daughter had been in mortal danger for months, and she hadn't noticed.
But Buffy never told her...
Joyce slammed her foot down on the brake, swerving off onto the shoulder. No, Buffy hadn't told her. But weren't there some things that a parent was supposed to know instinctively about her child? If she was in trouble, or unable to cope with life. She have known, even if Buffy had barricaded herself in her room and refused to talk. But she hadn't known, and now her daughter was gone.
There was so much, too. Not just this Slaying business; Buffy also managed to keep normal, everyday teenage stuff from her. Like schoolwork, and test scores, and boyfriends...
Joyce took a deep breath. She'd wanted to put her foot down about Angel from the beginning, but now she wasn't sure that would've helped. He had been the first man Buffy had...he'd been her first, and Buffy still hadn't decided to tell her about him. And then that night, that horrible night when the Slayer business had come out into the open...Buffy and that Spike person, they'd spoken of killing Angel.
Killing. Her sweet, innocent Buffy, planning to kill someone. Was it any wonder she'd drank half the whiskey that night?
But...Buffy wasn't innocent. Hadn't been, for a long time. If what she'd said was true, she'd killed countless...vampires...over the past two years, fought numerous demons, saved the world at least twice...and given up her virginity to a man who, for all Joyce knew, was dead right now.
Killed by Buffy.
She felt the tears well up in her eyes again and wiped her hand across them viciously, determined not to show up at the library looking like a wreck. Buffy's note had told her to speak with the librarian, Mr. Giles, if she had any questions. Joyce felt a wave of bleak humour wash through her as she pulled back out onto the road. She'd thought Buffy was spending so much time with the man because he was helping her study...
As she drove on to the school, she glanced one more time at the note. Buffy had written it, and then she had left. Left her mother to find out about this stranger she called a daughter all by herself.
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