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Avenging Demon
A/N This fic is the direct result of re-watching the last bit of Season two and Dead Man’s Party, and being utterly disgusted with the Scoobies. There’s going to be a fair amount of bashing, clichés, and bad stereotyping. You’ve been warned. ;) BTVS characters belong to Joss and Co. Original characters and plot are mine.
Avenging Demon
Chapter 1
Her daughter had been missing for almost a month. In the days following Buffy’s disappearance, Mr. Giles, the high school librarian, had shown up at Joyce Summers’ house looking for her, claiming to be a “watcher.”
Joyce had been dubious when Buffy had claimed to be a slayer. She had been terrified the first time that Buffy had told Joyce and her ex-husband—Buffy’s father, Hank—about vampires and slayers, over two years before, following the gym incident. Fearful for Buffy’s sanity, they had immediately checked their daughter into a psychiatric clinic for help, but after a short stay, Buffy hadn’t spoken of vampires again. It was her doctor’s conclusion that Buffy had simply been rebelling in an attempt to gain her parent’s attention. After all, he had reasoned, she was a teenager, prone to angst and defiance by definition, and her parent’s relationship had already been strained at best. It seemed as though Buffy had picked up on the tension and acted out by telling fantastical lies in addition to her seemingly random bout of pyromania.
Joyce’s first thought upon hearing Buffy talk about vampires again was that she was going to have to check her daughter into a clinic for a second time, because the delusion obviously hadn’t merely been lies designed to garner her parent’s focus, and hadn’t gone away—had grown stronger, if anything. However, she had seen her daughter and the man that she was with fight something—something very strange. Something that had exploded into dust in front of Joyce’s incredulous eyes. Even the shock of finding out that her daughter was wanted for murder wasn’t enough to deny that maybe her daughter had been telling the truth, or at least some version of it. Unfortunately, the shock was enough to let her daughter leave the house, and Joyce berated herself for not succeeding in cajoling her daughter out of escaping into the night.
Then Mr. Giles had shown himself at the Summers residence. Joyce had thought it odd that a school librarian would be so devoted to his students. She had even wondered if their relationship was appropriate, especially given the much older boy that Buffy had introduced as her “tutor.” Joyce wasn’t fooled by that little line, not at all. She had seen the look shared between the man and her daughter, and Joyce wondered if Buffy had developed a fixation on older men because of her lack of a strong father figure. But, she had quickly dismissed the idea upon spending a little time with the distinguished older man—he seemed too stodgy for Buffy’s taste, even if she was looking for older men in a misguided attempt to find a male role model.
When Joyce had informed Mr. Giles that Buffy hadn’t been home in four days—since that horrible night—Mr. Giles had stuttered and polished his glasses before asking Joyce to sit with him in her living room. He had explained what it meant that Buffy was a slayer, what vampires were, and exactly what Buffy had done that night.
According to Mr. Giles, Angel had in fact been a vampire. Joyce was a little confused on the issue, having been told that Angel had had a soul but had lost it. When she asked how a soul could be lost, Mr. Giles quickly looked away and resumed his stuttering and lens-polishing. All that Joyce could make out of what he was saying was “perfect happiness” and “broke the curse”.
In the weeks following, Joyce had forced Mr. Giles to teach her everything he could about slayers, vampires, watchers, and her daughter’s so called “sacred duty.” She still didn’t really believe everything that she was told and had read. How could all of this go on without her knowledge? She was sure that at the least, it had all been exaggerated immensely, and yet she told herself that she was willing to learn whatever she could and try to suspend her disbelief.
In the meantime, she wavered between anxiety over her daughter’s safety and a terrible anger over her defection. Having pieced things together, Joyce assumed that Buffy’s friend, Willow, had been able to restore Angel’s soul, reuniting them. Joyce had more than half convinced herself that her daughter had selfishly taken a vacation with her reacquired boyfriend, leaving her mother and friends behind without so much as a postcard. Mr. Giles, for his part, seemed slightly more willing to give Buffy the benefit of the doubt, but Joyce felt that she knew her daughter well, despite her lack of knowledge about this “calling.” At times, she just knew that Buffy was throwing a temper tantrum because Joyce had been disinclined to accept everything that had been dumped on her.
Sighing, Joyce sat back on her haunches. She had been scrubbing the bathroom, which had already been spotless. She had gone into a cleaning frenzy after the sixth day that her daughter was missing, searching desperately for anything to keep herself occupied. As she wiped her hand across her brow, Joyce heard a knock at the front door, and her heart picked up speed.
“Maybe that’s her,” Joyce thought with a rush of optimism. Tossing the scrub brush down, Joyce rose to her feet and nearly ran down the stairs. She took a deep breath to calm herself before opening the door. When she saw not her daughter, but the blond man that Buffy had been with on that last night, Joyce almost collapsed in mingled disappointment, fear, and hope. Although she had told Mr. Giles about the strange man, he had been unable to tell her anything in return. His mouth had dropped open, and he quickly yanked off his glasses and began polishing them again—that seemed to be habitual. After telling her repeatedly that she must have been mistaken, that it was impossible for Buffy to have invited “him” into her home—although he wouldn’t tell Joyce who “he” was—Joyce hadn’t brought him up again, and neither had Mr. Giles.
But now the stranger was here, and maybe he could give her some information about Buffy. Before she could begin to form a question, the man spoke, and the words dashed Joyce’s nebulous hopes.
“Need to talk to the Slayer, Joyce. She here?”
Joyce stared at the blond man standing on her porch. “Spike? That’s your name, right? That’s what Buffy called you? You don’t know where she is?”
Spike gazed back at her before looking away. “Know where she is? Should I? Haven’t seen her since she offed Angelus. I mean, she must’ve right? Felt it, I did. Dru felt it too, when she woke. Screamed my ears bloody. Was going to go back, you know. No point saving the bloody world only to send it to hell ‘cause I didn’t finish, right? Was gonna go back, soon ‘s I got Dru out of the way. But then I felt it. He died, world’s still here, Slayer won. Didn’t go back. Why would I? Had to save Dru, din’t I? Slayer won, would have killed Dru. Din’t need me anymore. Dru—she needed me.”
Spike’s eyes had flooded with tears, and although Joyce had a difficult time following what he was saying, she was suddenly filled with compassion for the strange man. He was obviously distraught, and her motherly instincts came rushing forward. She grabbed his shoulder and drew him into her house, murmuring to him. Leading him into the kitchen, she sat him down on a barstool and offered to make him some hot chocolate.
He was quiet for a moment before softly asking, “Got any of those little marshmallows?”
Joyce nodded and busied herself with the chocolate. Spike studied her back, wondering if she had even sussed out that he was a vamp. The bint had been irritatingly slow to understand about her daughter’s role as the slayer, but then he could hardly blame her, since she’d just found out. However, he was shocked that she hadn’t known about the Slayer in the first place, what with the ripped and bloodied clothes, as well as the chit sneaking in and out during the wee hours of the night. He really couldn’t imagine living with—not to mention loving—a person and not knowing such a huge part of who they were.
Sighing and leaning back on his stool, Spike broached the topic of Buffy Summers again. “So chit’s gone? Don’t know where she is? Know when she’s goin’ t’ be back?”
Joyce set a mug of chocolate in front of Spike and shook her head. “She left. That night, she left and didn’t come home.” She sighed deeply and brought her hand to her forehead. “I just don’t know what to think. I mean, she just dumps all this on me, and what? Expects me to understand everything? I don’t know how she can expect that after the first time she talked about—”
“First time?”
“Never mind. It’s just, she’s talked about vampires before, and then stopped, and I thought she was okay. I don’t even know what to believe any more, you know? I mean, I guess it’s obvious that there’s something strange going on. And that Mr. Giles seems to be convinced, plus he has all those books. But I don’t know. It’s just so incredible. How could my Buffy be some kind of superhero? And vampires? I just don’t understand. And now she’s gone, probably ran off with that boy, hasn’t even let us know if she’s okay—”
“Wait. Ran off with what boy?” His eyes widened as his mind processed the rest of what she had just said. “What the bloody hell do you mean, you don’t know what to believe? Think she’s just having a go at you, do you? Think that vamp we staked in front of you was what, just a trick of the eye? Mirrors and sleight of hand?” He rolled his eyes and stared hard at the woman, growling softly. He couldn’t understand why, not really, but the idea that the slayers own mum thought she was lying or crazy brassed him off.
“Well, honestly, doesn’t it sound far fetched? Evil bad guys and mythical hero chosen to battle them?”
“Joyce. Listen to me. Vampires are real. Your daughter is the Slayer. And I need to find her, an’ soon. End of the world, n’all that.” He watched her appraisingly, his eyes glinting coldly. “Could show you. She won’t be ‘appy if I did you in, but could still show you. ‘Sides, you’ve been right nice, least you have to me, don’t recon I’d want to hurt you. Show you and maybe you’ll be more careful about who you invite in. She’d appreciate that, right? Even if it scared you. ‘s better than you not knowing, right?”
Joyce’s eyes widened. “Sh-show me? What do you mean, show me?” She gasped and flinched back as with a sudden crunching of bones, Spike’s face shifted to ridges and his yellow eyes shown towards her.
“Vampire here. Tol’ you, vampires are real, luv. I’m a vamp, your daughter’s th’ Slayer, and I need her t’ save the world an’ all. Again.”
*~*~*
Buffy closed the door to her tiny apartment and leaned against it wearily. She had traveled to L.A. primarily because it was the best place that she could think of to hide, given her meager funding. She had briefly thought of contacting her father when she had realized that she only had enough money left after the bus ticket to stay in a motel and feed herself for four or five days, but she’d dismissed the idea when the thought that he might not be very welcoming had occurred to her. After all, her mother undoubtedly thought she was crazy, and if she’d contacted Hank, he would be sure to send Buffy on a one way to the psych ward. Or, he would if he even acknowledged her at all; Buffy wasn’t too sure that he would even do that.
So she’d gotten the first job she could find—waiting tables at a diner. The tips were lousy, but the man who’d hired her hadn’t asked any questions. One of the girls she worked with told her about an empty apartment in her building, and within a week of arriving in L.A., she’d moved in.
Sighing, Buffy thought of her friends and wondered if they missed her as much as she missed them. She’d thought of just going back home, but she really couldn’t deal with the pressure that she knew they’d thrust upon her. “Yay, we won!” she imagined them saying. Yeah. Big woo-hoo, huh? Send the man I love to hell, get kicked out of school andmy mom’s, all in one glorious night. Let’s party. Bronze, anyone?
Worse, they’d wonder why she didn’t want to celebrate the death of Angel. They’d all shown her varying degrees of sympathy when confronted with Angel’s sudden and devastating reversion to Angelus. Well, all except Xander. He couldn’t wait to inform her that he’d known all along that Angel wasn’t to be trusted. He’d hurled vicious words at her when the possibility of having Angel’s soul restored had come to light, and would never understand why she was mourning him now. It wouldn’t matter to him that it hadn’t been the unsouled monster that she’d sent to hell, but an innocent man who’d done nothing wrong but to love her. And the rest of them wouldn’t see it, either. Willow’s fish, Ms. Calendar, Kendra… They had too many reasons to hate the monster that she’d released on her birthday. They’d be too relieved that the whole ordeal was over to render her any sympathy, or even the time and space to mourn.
Mechanically unbuttoning her uniform, she moved to the tiny adjoining bathroom to fill the tub. No, she couldn’t go back home. Even if her friends did give her what she needed to heal, and if her mom hadn’t kicked her out of her house, Buffy couldn’t hope to start patrolling again, as they would expect. Not when every time she closed her eyes, she saw the look of confusion and utter betrayal on Angel’s face. No, she was done. No more slaying for her, ever. Being the Slayer had caused her to lose everything she loved, and if she were to ever pick up the pieces, she couldn’t return to that life.
Slipping into the tub, she closed her eyes and tried to will the tension out of her young body. Never again, she thought.
Chapter 2
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of
the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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