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Giles stood in front of a shelf of books, muttering to himself as he reshelved several volumes. “Stupid cleanup crew.... couldn’t just pile the books on a table and let *me* deal with them.... now I have to completely redo the whole job....” In one of his few pauses, he heard the door swing open With some trepidation, he peered around the edge of the shelf to see who was in the library on a summer weekend.
Joyce Summers, Buffy’s mother, sat at one of the library tables, staring at her hands, which were folded in front of her. Without looking up, she asked, “Do you know where she is?”
He walked over to the table and laid down his pile of books. “Didn’t she call? I told her to.”
Joyce nodded. “She called. She said she’d be home in a few days. I don’t want her home in a few days, I want her home *now*! Do you know where she is?” The woman’s head had snapped up, and her eyes were flashing. For the first time, Giles saw the resemblance between mother and daughter.
Warily, he sat down across from her. “She’s... she’s very tired, Mrs. Summers. She said that she just wanted to....er.... rest, for a few days. She needs time to... to heal.....”
She interrupted him. “Why can’t she heal at home? Where is my daughter?”
Giles sighed and rested his elbows on the table, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know exactly. I mean, I know where she was going, but I don’t know her exact location. You have to trust her, Mrs. Summers. She’s a responsible, level- headed girl. She just wanted a few days of rest before she had to start explaining everything.” He paused. The pain on her face made him go against his better judgment, and offer more information. < Buffy is *not* going to be pleased with me..... > “I think..... if you *really* can’t wait a few days, there’s a place where she *might* be, later... after dark. I think she’s been spending most of her time sleeping.... she was very tired after her ordeal. But tonight....”
Joyce leaned forward eagerly. “Where?”
“The graveyard.” She started to say something, but he held up a hand to silence her. “She will only be there after dark, and chances are she won’t be alone. I think you know Angel. Or rather, you talked with his demon. If she’s there, he will most likely be there too.”
“Angel, her boyfriend? The one she broke up with? The one she.....” Joyce trailed of, even more confused than before, if that was possible. “Would you mind explaining some of this to me?”
“Yes, I think that would be best. Wait here a minute.” Giles disappeared into his office, and returned several minutes later with two cups of tea. He resumed his seat across from Joyce, and placed one of the cups in front of her. “You have a long time until sunset. Perhaps this will distract you slightly.”
He cleared his throat and took a sip of tea. < Here goes nothing. > “In every generation there is a Chosen one. She alone must stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of Darkness. She is the Slayer......”
It was very dark in the graveyard. Joyce shivered, pulling her coat around her more tightly. < How could she come out here every night? So brave..... > She looked around, searching the darkness desperately for any sign of her daughter. She’d been out here for at least an hour, and she’d seen nobody. < Well, he *did* say that she might not come. >
Suddenly she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned, and saw Buffy, arm in arm with a taller, dark-haired man. < Angel.... > They had their backs to her, and were walking along slowly. She could hear the murmur of their voices. Buffy laughed, and Joyce closed her eyes. < I haven’t heard her laugh like that in a long, long time.... > She couldn’t wait anymore. Taking a step forward, she called out. “Buffy!”
Angel turned first, snarling, and she shrank back at the sight of his face. It was twisted and deformed, and his fangs gleamed white in the moonlight. As soon as he saw her, though, the snarl died down. He stepped back, looking slightly ashamed. In the meantime, Buffy had also whirled around. “Mom? What are you doing here?” She glanced at Angel. “I’ll be with you in a minute, all right?”
“All right,” her mother agreed faintly. She leaned against a gravestone, forcing herself to take deep breaths, never taking her eyes off her daughter. Buffy was talking softly to Angel, whose face remained.... well, not human. As she watched, Buffy smiled at him, stood on her tiptoes, and reached up to kiss that horrible face...... Then she turned and started toward her mother, while Angel went to lean against the wrought-iron fence that encircled the graveyard.
“Mom, why did you come here? How did you know where to find me?” Buffy was confused, and also wary.
“Why...” Joyce’s voice caught in her throat, and she cleared it and tried again. “Why did he do that?”
“Who?” She looked puzzled. Following her mother’s gaze, she ended up looking at Angel. “Oh, Angel? He was startled, and he’s a little nervous right now anyway. He didn’t know it was you. I just sent him over there until he calms down.” She spoke easily, not sounding worried or scared in the least.
“How can you...” This time Buffy knew immediately what she was talking about.
“...kiss him?” She shrugged. “I don’t even notice it anymore. He’s still Angel, underneath. I didn’t fall in love with him because of his face.” She paused. “Well, not *entirely* because of his face....” Smiling, she looked back at Angel. Then she turned to Joyce. “Why did you come, Mom? I told you I was coming home in a few days. We can talk then. How did you know to come here?”
Her mother straightened, releasing her death grip on the gravestone. “I went to the library to talk to your Mr. Giles. He told me that you might be here. And he explained some other things, too.”
A look of sadness mixed with relief passed over Buffy’s face. “Oh.” She looked down at her hands for a moment, twisting an unfamiliar silver ring on her finger. When she looked back up, she was smiling resignedly. “Then I guess I don’t have to. That’s a relief.”
“Buffy, I understand things better now. I still don’t like it. But he made me see that I have to accept it.” She stopped, swallowing hard. “This is difficult. I’m sorry about the things I said. I didn’t understand. Now I do. I apologize.”
Tears were brimming in her daughter’s eyes. “It’s ok, Mom. I should have tried a little harder to explain. I was just scared.... I didn’t have time to think. I was worried about Giles, and scared about fighting Angel.... I wasn’t thinking at all. It was all instinct by then.”
They stood in silence for a few minutes, looking at each other. Finally, Joyce spoke. “When will you come home?”
“In a little while. Day after tomorrow, maybe?” Buffy paused. “I’m staying with Angel. Did Giles tell you that, too?”
Her mother nodded. “He told me.... how much Angel means to you. And I think I understand that now, too. When I heard you laugh... I haven’t heard you laugh like that since.... your birthday, I suppose. If he’s what makes you happy, be with him.” Joyce smiled suddenly. “Of course, I have to say my two mothering words. Be careful.”
Buffy smiled back. “I will.” She looked at her mother uncertainly. “Do you.... do you want to meet him? He’s not like he was when he talked to you, I promise. That wasn’t really him. He’s great.” Her eyes were pleading. “I want you to meet him, so that you’ll stop worrying. He watches out for me, when I’m patrolling. He’s as strong as I am, so he can fight too. It helps. It doesn’t mean that I’m completely safe, but I’m saf*er*.”
Joyce studied her daughter’s face. She looked just like any teenager, nervous about introducing her boyfriend, wanting approval. It was reassuring, somehow. “All right,” she said finally. “But just for a minute. It’s getting cold.”
Buffy’s eyes lit up, and she rushed over to where Angel still leaned against the fence. She talked rapidly, and then they walked back over to Joyce. She was relieved to see that Angel’s features had settled back into their somewhat familiar, handsome arrangement. His eyes were different from the last time she’d seen him, though. They looked.... guilty. Sad. < Well, she said he wasn’t the same.... >
“Mom, this is Angel. You’ve sort of met before, but he’s not my history tutor, and he’s.... he’s not like he was the second time you met him, either. That is, he looks the same, but he’s not the same, he’s lots nicer, honest.....”
“Buffy?” It was Angel.
“What?”
“You’re babbling.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
He held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Summers. I’m sorry about.... about everything that’s happened. I know it must be a shock to you.”
“I’m adjusting.” She shook the proffered hand and smiled, and to her surprise, he smiled back. < He *does* have a nice smile.... > “One thing, though. Just out of curiosity, how old *are* you? Mr. Giles said ‘older’, but he didn’t specify.”
Angel glanced at Buffy, and she sighed. “You’d better tell her.”
“Two hundred and forty one.”
Joyce blinked. “Ah. Older.” There was a rather awkward pause, and then she nodded briskly. “Well, I should.... be getting home, I suppose. Take good care of my daughter.” He smiled and nodded. “Buffy, take care of yourself, and come home soon.” She held out her arms, and after a moment, Buffy threw herself into them, hugging her mother tightly. “I love you, Buffy.”
Buffy sniffled. “I love you too, Mom. And I promise I’ll come home soon.”
After Buffy’s mother left, Buffy and Angel continued their walk around the graveyard. Neither spoke, content to just be together.
Angel stopped, suddenly, and Buffy almost tripped over his feet. “What?” she asked worriedly. “What is it?”
Angel pointed. A few hundred yards in front of them, a familiar tweed-clad figure stood in front of a grave. As they watched, he lowered himself to one knee and laid the bunch of roses he’d brought near the headstone. Then he rested his forehead on his knee. They could see his shoulders shaking slightly.
Buffy looked up at Angel. His face was twisted in pain and guilt. “We should probably leave him alone,” she said, drawing his attention away from the sad tableau. “He’ll be all right.”
Slowly, they turned and walked away, leaving Giles alone with his grief.