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Hearts Breaking Even by slaymesoftly
 
Eighteen and Nineteen
 
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Chapter Eighteen

Buffy fought with every fiber of her being to control the urge to run to her room and fall face down on her bed sobbing her heartbreak into the sheets that still smelled of tobacco and sex. With a supreme effort of will, she kept her face immobile as she walked over to look at the two vampires who were not leaving her.

“Buffy?” Giles’ quiet voice broke her concentration on the two snarling, snapping vamps, and she raised her eyes to his in question.

“Now that they are awake, how do you propose we get these two creatures to your basement?”

“Yes, Buff,” Angelus’ oily voice joined the conversation. “How do you expect to get me into your house? Last time I checked, when you were busy fucking my grandchilde, it seemed like my invitation had been revoked.”

Buffy’s face flamed as she heard Giles gasp behind her and she gave the smirking vampire a look that cut him off in mid-jibe. There was no question that he was, at that moment, only seconds from achieving the dusty ending that Spike had so passionately wished for him and Angelus wisely shut his mouth; although he couldn’t control the self-satisfied leer on his face. Buffy’s hand went to the stake in her waistband, clutching it so hard her fingers left dents in the hard wood.

She couldn’t look at her watcher, but she knew he was cleaning his glasses vigorously as he tried to pretend that he’d never heard what the vampire had said. When he had gained control of his voice, he asked again, “What is your plan? Now that they are conscious, no one will be able to get close to them without risking serious injury.”

“Not a problem.”

Without changing her expression or giving any warning, Buffy shot her foot out, connecting with Angelus’ jaw, effectively both shutting him up and knocking him out. She backhanded a retreating Xander into unconsciousness before hitting Angelus on the head with her stake to reinforce his immobility.

While the two creatures were unconscious, Slayer and Watcher quickly unchained them from the tree and began to drag them towards the house. Buffy smothered the thought of how much easier the task would be if Spike had been there to help her, and did her best to take most of the weight upon herself as they hauled the inert bodies up the steps and through the door.

Her growled, “Come in” when their forward progress was halted at the front door bore nothing hospitable in its tone as she once more invited Angel back into her home. They pulled the two vamps to the top of the basement stairs where Buffy used her feet to kick and shove them far enough to allow gravity to take over. She took her time following their bouncing bodies down the stairs, waiting for the Watcher and Jenny and Willow before helping Giles fasten the chains to iron rings in the cement floor.

At her Watcher’s questioning look, she shrugged and said dismissively, “They were here when we moved in. My mother thinks they anchored gymnastic equipment.”

When the vampires were securely fastened to the floor, Buffy looked at the gypsy and asked anxiously, “When do you think you’ll have it?”

“Before dawn, I hope,” she replied quietly. “We’ll go work on it now,” she added, gesturing for Willow to accompany her.

The novice witch gave one last sad glance toward her good friend’s battered and unconscious body before following her teacher up the stairs to work on re-installing his soul. Giles and Buffy stood in silence for several minutes before she began, “Giles – what Angel said…”

He held up a hand to forestall her confession.

“Buffy, I really – and I CANNOT emphasize this enough – really do not care to know. I am not blind and it is perfectly clear that you and Spi-William have feelings for each other. I cannot say that I approve of those feelings, any more than I approved of your dating Angel, but you are entitled to have them and if you choose to act upon them…well, let’s just say that it is not going into my Watcher’s Diary and therefore I have no need to hear it discussed.”

The watcher’s face was flaming and Buffy couldn’t suppress a small smile as she answered, “Ok, Giles. Don’t ask, don’t tell. I got it.”

With a last look at the still-unconscious vampires, she followed her embarrassed Watcher up the stairs and out of the basement.

After watching Willow and Jenny discussing various wordings to use and possible ways to eliminate the happiness clause, Buffy grew bored and wandered around the lower level of the house. She eventually found herself back in the kitchen and saw the pans that Spike had put out, reminders that he’d been planning to make her dinner before the other vampires showed up. She sadly put the pans away and fixed herself a sandwich.

She could almost hear his voice scolding her, “That’s not a decent meal, Slayer. You’ve got to keep your strength up – you never know what you might need it for…” and she could see the rakishly raised eyebrow that would have accompanied the innuendo in the last remark. She smiled softly until she remembered that she would never hear that smirking voice again. The resulting loss of appetite had her leaving the half-eaten sandwich on the counter and resuming her restless pacing around the house.

As she knew she would, she soon ran out of places to explore on the first floor, and reluctantly went upstairs to her room. She stared at the rumpled bed for what seemed like hours, knowing she had to wash the stained sheets before her mother got home but not wanting to give up that last trace of William’s presence in her room. She finally compromised by leaving the pillows alone, but stripping the sheets to take to the washer.

She carried them down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the basement, sparing only a fleeting glance for the two vampires that were chained to the floor. Both vamps sat up snarling when they caught the scent wafting off the sheets that Buffy had clutched to her chest. Ignoring their growls, she kept her face buried in the linens until she reached the washer, where she had no choice but to let go and drop them in the tub. She was adding soap when Angelus spoke up.

“Getting rid of the evidence before your mother gets home, lover?” His voice destroyed the mellow mood inspired by the Spike and Buffy scent on the sheets and she almost snarled herself as she turned to meet his leering face.

“If you want to live to regret that recovered soul, you’ll shut up now,” she said with a growl that would have done credit to a vampire.

“Well, if you’re so set on putting my soul back, does that mean we can take up where we left off? I’m not used to taking Spike’s leavings; usually I let him have mine…eventually, but I’m willing to make an exception in your case. What do you say, Buff? You and me?”

He made an obscene gesture with which she was unfamiliar, but there was no mistaking its meaning and she made no attempt to hide the disgust on her face. Beside him, the newly-made vampire was openly ogling his former friend, leering at her as he added his own proposition.

“Or, how about me? Huh, Buff? Won’t I be right up your alley now? All that vampire power and a soul besides – what more could a vampire layer –oops! Slayer --want?”

“How about a vampire who doesn’t need an artificially restored soul to behave like a gentleman? How about a vampire who is capable of self-control around humans? How about one who can still love even though he’s a demon?”

Buffy glared at the two grinning vamps, almost angrier at herself for letting them get to her than she was at them. She knew Angelus was just trying to rattle her and she’d fallen right into his trap. Furious with herself, and sure that if she remained in the basement any longer she would stake one or both of them, she slammed the lid down on the washer and pushed random buttons until it started going. Without another look at or word to the taunting demons, she walked back upstairs as calmly as she could while ignoring them completely.

She stomped into the dining room, telling Jenny, “You’d better get that spell pretty soon or there isn’t going to anybody left to use it on.”

She ignored the questioning glances from Giles and Willow, throwing herself into a chair and resting her elbows on the table. After several minutes, she looked at her watcher and said abruptly, “Giles, I’ve decided to tell my mom about…everything. She needs to know about vampires and demons and she’ll need to know about Xander. She’s probably going to think I’m crazy at first, so I might have to call on you for backup.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Very well, Buffy. I suppose this is not something that you will be able to hide from her forever and she will certainly be safer knowing what is and is not safe to do at night.”

A muffled squeal from Willow brought their attention back to the two women working on the re-ensouling spell and Slayer and Watcher whirled to look at them hopefully. At a nod from Jenny, Willow blurted, “We’ve got it! And we think we can make the souls permanent. No ‘hello happy, bye-bye soul’!”

“Let’s do it,” Buffy said, standing up quickly. “I want them out of my house.”

“But, Buffy.” Willow’s voice was puzzled and her forehead wrinkled with concern. “Once they have their souls back, they’ll be Angel and Xander again. Our…friends. Angel can be your—“

One look at Buffy’s face and she decided not to finish that particular line of thought.

“Well, anyway, it’ll be okay for them to be in your house, won’t it?”

“I don’t want either one them to have access to my house,” Buffy said firmly. “As soon as we get them out of here, I want you to do a disinvite – for both of them.”

“Shall we include William the Bloody in that?” Giles asked mildly. His expression belied the calm tone of his voice.

Buffy looked from her watcher to the two expectant faces of the witches and narrowed her eyes.

“That won’t be necessary. He isn’t coming back.”

“But if he should…Your mother--”

“My mother would be more than safe around Spike,” Buffy said through gritted teeth. “And so would all of you. I don’t want to hear about it again.”

She left the room with finality, calling over her shoulder, “Let’s get this spell over with. I still need to patrol tonight.”

When the demons in the basement saw the determined-looking gypsy and eager novice witch coming down the stairs with their hands full of spell ingredients, they reacted in very different ways. Xander, the newly-raised vamp who had not yet hunted or even fed except for a drunk Angelus had thrust at him on the way to Buffy’s, retreated behind his grandsire in fear. In addition to the demon’s abhorrence of having a soul, was Xander’s fear that he would turn back into the useless sidekick he’d been before Drusilla had turned him into something powerful. He was somehow unable to recall that his newfound power had been less than useful against either Spike or Buffy.

Angelus, remembering how it felt to be cursed with a soul while still remaining a demon at heart, pulled on the chains with all the strength of a master vampire, trying to get to the gypsy before she could send him back into his perpetually melancholy persona. Buffy stepped quickly between the angry demon and her friends, her stake out and ready should the chains break before the spell was cast. She closed her ears to the taunts and threats coming from the vampire with whom she had once thought she was falling in love with, although the gasp from Willow told her that the others were listening to the invective coming from his mouth.

She knew that he was just trying to distract her with his vivid descriptions of what he’d seen her doing with Spike; hoping she would be so upset that he could catch her off guard if and when he broke the chains. Although she knew that the filth coming from his mouth bore no resemblance to anything she and Spike had actually done, and that he had seen nothing except their nakedness in her bed, she cringed at what her friends were hearing. She almost hoped that the chains would break, giving her a good excuse to drive the stake she was clutching so tightly through his heart, shutting his mouth permanently.

When she heard Willow and Jenny begin chanting behind her and smelled the burning herbs she breathed a sigh of relief, then laughed at the panicked look on the vampire’s face as he felt the spell developing. It was easy to see the moment when the souls were forced back into the two vamps. Xander screamed, clutching his chest and screwing up his face in terror.

Angelus snarled, seeming as though he was trying to bite the offending bit of light before it could worm its way into his body. His protesting and snarling was to no avail as he soon gave his own guttural scream and fell over onto the floor.

There was a heavy silence as the screams faded and the humans waited to see if the spell had worked. Buffy remained on guard, her stake ready while they waited for Angel and Xander to open their eyes.


Chapter Nineteen


The silence was eventually broken by the sound of Xander’s ragged crying. He refused to look at his two best female friends as he buried his head in his hands, remembering the things he had said and done only a few hours earlier. Willow edged closer to the still-chained vampires asking softly, “Xander? Are you all right?”

When he looked up at her with anguished tear-filled eyes, Willow rushed to his side and threw her arms around him. Buffy’s frightened cry of “Willow!” went unheeded as the redhead sank to her knees beside her friend, holding him while he sobbed on her shoulder.

Buffy immediately stood beside them, stake in hand, while she waited to see to whom Xander was still chained, Angelus or Angel. When the older vampire made to move closer, Buffy fell into a fighting stance, stake at the ready, only relaxing when Angel lifted his normal, sad brown eyes to hers, saying softly, “It’s okay, Buffy. I’m me again.”

“Tell me, Angel,” she asked bitterly, “exactly when were you NOT you? Was it when you were trying to get into my bedroom? When you ripped the throats out of half of Sunnydale? Or was it when you killed and turned one of my best friends?”

“Um…technically, that was Drusi….” Buffy’s glare left no doubt where she was placing the blame. “Right, my responsibility,” he sighed, slumping against the wall. “I suppose ‘I’m sorry’ is a little—“

“Don’t want to hear it,” she said, turning away. “As soon as Giles unchains you, I want you out of my house. And take him with you,” she gestured at Xander’s shocked face. “You made him, or you let your insane childe make him, so you take care of him.”

“You don’t mean he’s to live with me?” Angel’s voice rose to painful levels at the same time that Xander howled, “Noooooo!”

“Well, where else is he going to live?” She turned around and put her hands on her hips. “How is he going to learn where and how to get pig’s blood? Who’s going to teach him how to be a souled vampire?”

The two newly-souled vamps glared at each other. “But I don’t like him,” the older one whined.

“Right back atcha, Deadboy,” Xander growled.

“Work it out.”

Buffy waved her hand dismissively and went back up to her kitchen to finish her abandoned sandwich. It wasn’t long before two very subdued vampires followed by Buffy’s watcher and the two women responsible for saving their un-lives by restoring their souls, made their way up the stairs and into the kitchen. After a few uncomfortable moments, during which Buffy did her best to ignore them, they mumbled thanks to Willow and Jenny and let themselves out the door.

“Do it now, Willow,” Buffy said wearily as soon as the door had closed behind them.

Her friend started to argue, then shrugged and did as she was asked, effectively making the house impervious to any vampire except the one that no one was willing to mention again. With a yawn, Jenny said that she really had to catch up on some sleep and Giles offered to drive both her and Willow to their homes.

After assuring them that she would be fine by herself, Buffy bade them “good-night” and closed the door firmly behind them. She really wanted nothing more than to soak in a hot bath, wallowing in her unhappiness, but guilt for having not patrolled the night before would not allow that respite; instead she packed up her stakes to make a quick patrol of the closest cemeteries.

She found only a few fledglings to stake and she suspected that Spike might have dusted most of his minions before leaving Sunnydale. The thought of Spike was enough to ruin the mood that had been slightly elevated by slaying and she turned her footsteps toward her empty house and even emptier bed.


She approached her room with some trepidation, not sure what would be worse – picturing Spike in her bed, or finding that she was already forgetting what it was like to have him there. She threw herself down upon the unmade bed, burying her face in the pillows that still smelled of cigarettes and some indefinable scent that she was sure she could identify for the rest of her life as belonging to Spike.

Raising teary eyes after a while, her eye was caught by a piece of paper on her nightstand and she reached for it with a trembling hand. Although the handwriting was much smoother and more mature than the painstaking writing on the paper safely boxed under her bed, she had no doubt who had left it there.

“Dearest Buffy,” she read. “The poet in me is screaming to be allowed to compose a sonnet to our time together; a fitting sequel to the bit of drivel I left you the last time we met. Time, alas will not allow such luxury, and, truth be told, my skills at composing poetry are no better than they ever were so it is probably just as well.

I don’t think I have the words to tell you what these past too-few days and your acceptance of the monster that I am mean to me. To express the joy that your generous gifts brought to my cold heart. I was not exaggerating when I said I would never feel like that again no matter how long I remain among the undead. Five hundred years from now, should I remain undusted that long, my cold, unbeating heart will still be warmed by thoughts of the Slayer who trusted, and, dare I say it? loved me.

Every time I think about how rarely a Slayer lives into her late teens, I want to throw it all away and fly to your side, determined to do my part to see that you do not meet the usual fate of your sisters-in-arms. And yes, I am aware that the incongruity of my worrying about the fate of a slayer must be one of Fate’s more unkind jokes, but there it is. William the Bloody has become so fearful of learning that a new slayer has been called that it is likely I will never leave my room lest I hear something that will cause me to want to walk out to greet my first sunrise in 124 years.

With everything I am and have, I implore you to take care as you go about your duties. Barring incredibly good luck, I cannot imagine an ordinary vampire even coming close to beating you in a fight; but I beg you to take care anyway. And always remember to cheat!

There are so many thoughts trembling in my heart, so many things I wish to say to you, but I know that you are in the yard, tapping your foot and waiting for me to take my leave, so I will just leave you with this thought – know that somewhere in the world, a monster loves you ever so much. You will always be a warrior elf queen in my dreams.

With all my love,

William


PS – If you let that bloody wanker Angel touch you, I will come back and rip off both his arms!”

Buffy dropped her head onto the pillows, torn between laughter and tears. The incongruity between the formal, stilted wording in the body of the letter and Spike’s angry post script summed up so perfectly the two sides of the unusual vampire that she was left gasping even as she pressed the paper to her face as if she could somehow feel the hands with which he’d held it as he wrote.

Rather than putting it away in her box of treasures with his poem, she put in the drawer of her nightstand so that she could reread it at will and went off to take her shower before bed.

She read the letter one more time before going to sleep with her nose burrowed into the scent of the note’s author where it suffused his pillow.


******************

By the time her mother returned to Sunnydale, there was no trace of Buffy’s overnight guest, and no sign that any sort of magical activities had taken place in their otherwise very ordinary basement. The sheets had been washed, dried and put back on the bed, the shackles had gone home with the Watcher and the sword was carefully hidden under the bed with her locked box of valuables. The only mistake she made was to accidentally leave Spike’s letter out on her nightstand….

“Buffy Summers! I need to see you in the living room, young lady!”

(Uh oh. This can NOT be good. What have I done now? That she knows about?

“Yes, Mom? “

Buffy tried to appear cheery and unconcerned, all the while searching her brain for what might have upset her mother. Joyce had only been home a few days and Buffy had not yet found the right time to sit her down and tell her about her daughter’s night job. One look at her mother’s face, however, and she knew that she should have found the time to have that talk. Then she saw what her mother was clutching in her hand, and her stomach began to hurt.

Waving Spike’s letter in her hand, Joyce gestured to the no-longer wrapped up sword on the couch beside her and asked heatedly,” Do you have an explanation for any of this? An explanation that will not get you grounded for the next two years?”

Buffy took a deep breath and said quietly, “Sit down, Mom. This is going to take a while.”

Joyce reluctantly perched on the end of the couch, still holding the letter tightly. Her face was tense as she waited for Buffy’s explanation. She really felt there was only one way to take comments like, “…the gifts you gave me…” or “…loved me…,” but there were so many puzzling references in what was obviously a love letter that she really hoped there was some other explanation for it. She tried hard not to think about the things that happened just before they left LA, when she and Hank had blamed Buffy’s inexplicable behavior on trauma over their breakup, but finding a genuine sword under her daughter’s bed was bringing up all those old memories.

“May…may I please have my letter back?” Buffy asked timidly, terrified that her mother was going to destroy one of the few things she had of Spike’s.

“Not until you explain it to me.” Joyce’s voice was soft but firm. “I need to know why my seventeen-year-old daughter has a love letter from someone claiming to be 124 years old. And why he is afraid that you won’t…won’t live very much longer.”

Buffy sighed and sank down into a chair. She looked at her mother silently for several minutes, then exhaled and began by saying, “Mom, I’m going to tell you some things that are going to sound very…strange, but I want you to promise me that you will wait until I’m through before you wig out, ok? Just hear me out, and when I’m done you can ask your questions or whatever.”

Joyce nodded slowly and relaxed back against the couch. She placed the letter on the coffee table, being sure to keep it closer to her than to Buffy.

“All right, Buffy. I’ll hear you out, but if this is more of that same vampire stuff that you tried to feed us in LA, I will have to tell you I am very disappointed in you.”

“Well, Mom,” Buffy bit her lip, then took the plunge. “I guess you’d better prepare to be disappointed. Because you’re about to hear more about vampires, demons and the…the….Oh, this is so hard. I wanted Giles to be here when I—“


“Giles? Mr. Giles, the librarian? What on earth has he to do with this. Oh my god!” Joyce’s eyes got huge and she looked at the letter on the table. “Please don’t tell me you are having an affair with the school librarian!”

“Wha-? No! Ewwwww! Mom!” Buffy’s very real surprise and disgust soothed her mother’s nerves somewhat, but she persisted.

“Then why would he need to be here – and who is “William?” and why is he comparing himself to someone who is 124 years old?”

“Because that’s how old he is, Mom.” Buffy sighed, holding up a hand to halt her mother’s automatic protest. “Please, let me tell you this my way and in some kind of chronological order, okay? Then I’ll explain about Spi-William.”

When Joyce had subsided to frowning agreement, Buffy began her tale. In a flat, uninflected voice she quickly rehashed her meeting with Merrick when she was only fifteen and had first been called. She tried to explain about being Chosen, but finally gave it up saying only that, “Giles can explain all this metaphysical stuff, Mom. All you really need to know is that I am the current Slayer and have been since we were in LA. We’re here, in Sunnydale, because there was a vampire emergency here and I needed to be closer to the Hellmouth.”

She waved her hands again, “I’m sure the Council had something to do with all of that. The gallery being for sale, the house -- all of it. They wanted me here and they fixed it so we would move here. You’ll have to ask Giles about that, too.”

At her mother’s terse suggestion that she explain just why the school librarian was so involved that he could explain everything Buffy couldn’t, Buffy nodded and said tiredly, “Merrick was my first Watcher. He isn’t anymore. He was killed by vampires before we left LA. The vampires that I killed when I set fire to the school gym.”

There was an intense moment in which Joyce tried to deal calmly with this reminder of why they had left LA, and then she nodded tightly for Buffy to go on. Mentally, she was already trying to decide how she would get Buffy to the psychiatrist she fully intended to have her see immediately, but outwardly she continued to listen with open eyes and an open mind.

“Giles is my new Watcher. I met him the first day of school. I…I tried to refuse to be the Slayer again. But…it wasn’t possible. The vamps knew I was here and…I just fell back into the slaying. I had no choice. I’ve been doing it since we moved here.”

“And, how long will this…slaying…go on? When are you permitted to quit?”

“When another Slayer is called,” Buffy said simply.

“And when will that be?” Her mother was relentless in her pursuit of some shred of hope that there would be an end to the mental nightmare in which her daughter was apparently trapped.

“When I die.”

Joyce’s face went white. She snatched the letter up off the table and quickly reread the part about Slayers only living into their late teens. Buffy’s seventeenth birthday having come and gone, she wondered briefly if her daughter was becoming suicidal and covering it with this story of vampires and demons. Then she remembered things from that last year in Los Angeles; things that she had tried very hard to forget or dismiss as something other than what they seemed. With a shudder and a groan, she dropped her face into her hands, accepting that whatever was going on in her only daughter’s life, it was not a figment of her imagination---and it seemed likely to get her killed.

Buffy was immediately at her side, putting her arms around her mother and murmuring soothing assurances that she was fine and she intended to remain that way for a long, long time. When Joyce had regained her composure, she sat back and looked at her suddenly adult-seeming daughter with new eyes.

“So – Back to School Night – the reason you were running all over the building was…”

“Spike – William. He attacked the school to kill me.”

“THIS William?” her mother waved the letter around, causing Buffy to snatch it out of her hand before she could destroy it.

“Okay, see, that’s another thing I need to explain….”

“I can’t wait to hear this one,” her mother grumbled, reluctantly joining her daughter in a small laugh. “It’s going to be a doozy, isn’t it?”

Buffy smiled, “Yes, it is. But it’s a good doozy – well, mostly,” she added, remembering that little William had become a vampire and spent over one hundred years living off human beings.

She briefly covered her short stay in 19th century England, grimacing sympathetically when her mother gave a muffled cry at Giles’ having ordered her to jump into the portal after the demon. She told her mother about the charming little boy she met there, glossing over the encounter with the gang of thugs, and told her how wonderful it was to have his company while she was there.

“He was so brave, and so cute and he wrote me this wonderful…well, okay, it’s probably pretty bad, but a poem about me and I never got to say ‘good-bye’ because he wasn’t there when the portal opened again.

“Then Spike came to Sunnydale and he attacked me and we were fighting and all of a sudden he didn’t want to kill me anymore and…”

“And this Spike. He’s your William?”

Buffy nodded. “He grew up and got turned into a vampire by Drusilla but he remembered me. All those years, he remembered me…”

Buffy’s wonder and gratitude were obvious and her mother had to say sharply, “Well, of course he did! You’re beautiful and…and…oh my god. Did you say you have super-powers?”

Without answering, Buffy stood up and picked up the easy chair in which she’d been sitting, lifting it with one hand and holding it up long enough for her mother to get some sense of what she didn’t know about her athletic daughter’s true abilities.

She set the chair back down carefully and then asked softly, “Do you believe me this time?”

Joyce flushed, remembering how they had accused Buffy of lying or doing drugs the first time she had tried to tell them about being called. She nodded slowly, twisting her hands together.

“I do. I don’t understand it, but I believe you. Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Uh, yeah, but I don’t want to wig you out any more than I already have. The main thing to know is that you should never invite anybody int the house after dark – even if you know them. Oh yeah, and Xander is a vampire.”

“Xander? Xander Harris? How could I not have noticed that?”

“Well, it kinda just happened. While you were gone. But it’s okay,” she added hastily. “Willow and Ms Calendar put his soul back so he’s not going to eat anybody and…”

“Willow?” Joyce’s voice was weak as she tried to absorb more unbelievable information.

“Tell you what, Mom. I’ll call Giles and we’ll go over to his house tonight and you can get all caught up on everything. Okay?”

Nodding numbly, Joyce completely forgot to question Buffy about her relationship with William or Spike or whatever her daughter called him and went off to pour herself a stiff drink.


 
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