Two Ladies of Quality
Author's Website: http://www.angelfire.com/rebellion/riani1/
Feedback: riani1@yahoo.com
It's been a quiet summer, since they defeated Glory. The quiet of waiting for the other shoe to drop. And some new shoes are heading for the floor.
After a typical night of uneasy sleep, Xander arrived at the Summers house, ready for a long day's drive. He was very carefully not thinking about the destination, only thinking about freeways and offramps.
Joyce answered the door. "Good morning, Xander. Thank you so much for helping me with this."
"De nada, Mrs. Summers."
Dawn came bouncing down the stairs. "Hey, Xander," she called as she headed for the kitchen.
"Hey, Dawn." Xander watched her for a few moments, feeling almost cheerful. There was a reason they'd gone through so much hell last spring, and saving the world was only part of it.
"Have you had breakfast?" Joyce asked.
"I'm fine."
"That's not what I asked," she said with a semi-stern frown.
He caved graciously. "I had part of breakfast."
"Then you can help us finish off the bacon." She briefly balanced herself with a hand on the wall as she turned for the kitchen, then walked off with only the faintest of limps.
Xander nodded in satisfaction but made a mental note to make frequent stops today to let the recuperating woman stretch her legs.
Buffy was on stove duty, doing battle with the bacon, while Dawn foraged in the cabinets.
"Where are the Rice Chex? There are supposed to be Rice Chex."
Xander spotted both Buffy's look of guilt and the Rice Chex box sticking out of the recycling bin by the back door. He decided to stay out of the discussion.
"If we're out, we'll get more," Joyce said. She made her way to the bulletin board on the wall, picked up the pen hanging by a string, and added Rice Chex to the shopping list. She studied the writing for a few moments, looking both dismayed and pleased. "Well, at least it's legible. Is there food for the very nice young man who's driving me?"
"We are with bacon," Buffy declared. "And we do have cereal if you want."
Dawn pulled out a box. "Fruity Pebbles? I'm not a kid anymore." She looked at the other suspiciously. "I heard that." Buffy hid her follow-up snicker behind a roll of paper towels.
"Or," Xander offered, "I could stop at the McDonald's on the way out." But he did take a piece of bacon from the platter Buffy put on the table.
The toaster popped up. "Eggos!" Dawn caroled. She placed two on a plate that went in front of Joyce, then two on a plate she kept hold of. She stuck her tongue out at Buffy when her sister pouted. "There's more, hold your horses." Four more went in the toaster.
Xander tried to keep his snicker to himself, but Joyce caught it and smiled at him. "Yes, it's always like this." She didn't try to hide the smile from her daughters. Dawn ducked her head and focused on breakfast. Buffy smiled back, but it faded quickly.
"So," Joyce said brightly, "Dawn, what do you have planned for the weekend, with the bad old mom out of town?"
"Trying to avoid the bad old big sister, who isn't going out of town." Dawn wrinkled her nose right back at Buffy. "You remember, I'm going to Janet's tonight. You're taking a cell phone, right?"
"Yes, we are, and the AAA is paid up and the spare tire's in good shape and I had the engine checked last week. What about you, Buffy?"
"I might go see if Willow wants to go Bronzing, maybe watch her flip through the college catalog to see if there are any other general requirement classes she can take before having to settle on a major." She poured herself some milk. "Gosh, a quiet night. I've probably hexed myself just thinking the idea." She looked sternly at her mother. "So, you're going to call when you get up there, right?"
"Sweetie, I won't be surprised if they don't have cellular coverage up there. We'll call before we get out of range."
Buffy turned to Xander. "And you won't drive more than ten miles over the speed limit, right?"
Xander accepted his own pair of Eggos from Dawn, plus the syrup and butter. "I think you may have mistaken me for someone else in this room who needs reminding of speed limits. We'll be fine, Buffy."
She was still frowning a little as she dug into her own Eggos.
They ate in relative silence for a few minutes. Buffy started to speak then stopped so often that Joyce finally put down her fork. "Yes?" she asked patiently.
"Are you sure you're up to this?"
"Sweetheart, I made it before under far worse conditions."
Buffy shrugged. "I know, but . . ."
Joyce got up to put her plate in the sink and kissed Buffy in passing. "I'll be fine. Xander will be with me."
Xander kept his head down over his plate so no one could see his grin. It was nice to have someone appreciate him. When he glanced up to get his milk glass, he saw Buffy watching him. And almost frowning. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she paid attention to her waffles again.
Joyce went into reduced bustle mode as she gathered her things for the trip. Xander followed her out to the car to get out from under Buffy's thoughtful eye. The back of the Land Rover was full of boxes.
"Christmas in August?" he asked.
Joyce grinned. "I've been taking donations at the gallery all summer, after I got back to work. I told everybody it was for a convent in Honduras."
"What are you taking them?"
"Some new gardening tools, some bolts of cloth, shoes and things. Canned food. It's not easy shopping for people who have nothing and don't want anything."
He thought a moment, then went to his own car. He hauled out his tool box and belt and carried them to the Land Rover. "They might need some things fixed," he explained with an attempt at an offhand shrug.
Joyce nodded. "Good idea." She took a deep breath. "Leave in fifteen minutes?"
"Sounds like a plan."
A few last minute things needed dealt with before they hit the road. After his own turn in the Summers bathroom, he found Buffy waiting for him near the stairs.
"Yes, I'm going to drive carefully and not bounce her around and make sure she's all right," he said to forestall the lecture he saw brooding in her eyes.
She nodded with a small smile. "If she doesn't seem OK, you bring her straight home, all right?"
"I promise. But she's right, she's in a lot better shape than the last time she made this trip."
"Yeah, but then we were all there too. This time it's just you."
"I thinking I'm up to looking after your mother."
"I know, it's just . . ."
That came out a half second too slow, and she didn't meet his eyes when she shrugged again.
She didn't trust him to look after her mother, not really. Xander kept himself from asking what was wrong, afraid she'd tell him. "You could come with us."
"I shouldn't leave town. There have been a couple of weird things the past couple of days that I need to keep an eye on. Besides, Mom said no."
He gave her a look of "Well, then?" If she wanted to say something, she was going to have to make the first move. He wasn't in the mood to be Volunteering Boy.
"Xander!" came from Joyce downstairs.
"Gotta go," he said, smiling in as friendly a way as he could manage.
"Yeah. Xander--"
He turned from the stairs, his gut twisting in dread. She looked undecided, then she hugged him instead of saying whatever was on her mind. He hugged her back.
"Xander, come on!"
Buffy grinned. "Better go. That's her 'I'm not writing you another excuse note' voice."
"And you know this tone of voice well?"
Her laugh followed him down the stairs.
Dawn hugged him in passing. "Bye, Xander, drive careful."
"Always do. Don't do anything stupid that blows up in your face and you have to admit to your mother later."
"Sure thing."
Joyce was already by the car, looking impatient. Xander held the passenger door for her and lent a hand for balance as she climbed in. She tapped her fingers on the arm rest as he got behind the wheel.
"Are we in a hurry?" he asked.
She caught herself, then laughed. "I love them dearly, but Buffy and Dawn do tend to hover. I'm--kind of looking forward to having a couple of days without someone watching me all the time."
"Sorry," he shrugged, "I promised." He started the engine, put it in reverse, then hesitated. "We forgot the most important part of the trip."
"What?" Joyce frowned.
"Music. And who gets to pick it. I've got CD's in my tool box."
"My car, I get first pick."
Xander watched anxiously as she opened the storage unit between the front seats and pulled out a CD binder. Maybe she'd at least have something marginally cool, like Elvis when he was still country.
Joyce smiled at him. "What do you think of Led Zeppelin?"
"Who?"
"Them, too."
"Huh?"
She pretended to think about it. "I don't think I have them." She laughed at the look on his face. "Get us on the road, Xander, and you can hear proper old fogey music. Maybe some Hendrix," she mused as she flipped through the CD's.
He sighed and put his trust in U-2 and, if necessary, Roy Orbison.
***
The flick of something soft and fuzzy across her nose brought Tara out of a deep, comfy sleep. She opened her eyes slightly, unwilling to move in case she decided that slipping back into dreamland was the best decision she could make in the next few minutes. Kitten tails. Or, rather, the fluffy tails of spoiled cats who assumed that any empty pillow was fair game to become a cat bed. Miss Kitty was still circling on Willow's pillow, creating a perfect bed to whatever demanding standards cats followed. One more flick to settle her tail over her front legs, and Miss Kitty settled down to sleep.
Tara decided that was a very good idea, then the thought "Where's Willow?" drifted past her mind. Long Saturday mornings were generally for both of them to laze around. She turned her head just a little.
Willow sat at her desk, studying a book. Tara smiled. Dear obsessive-compulsive vacation studier. Probably getting a head start on the new semester. She debated pouting loudly about books being more appealing than girlfriends.
She took a breath to speak then realized Willow was speaking quietly to herself as she read. Something that sounded close to Latin, but more guttural. A sickly grey glow appeared over the desk. Willow glanced up at it and frowned. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, then looked back down at the book. She read silently for a few seconds, glanced back up, then shook her head.
"Depart," she whispered, and the glow faded. She hmphed in frustration and bent back over the book. An old, leather-bound book, Tara noticed, not one of the volumes likely to appear on the normal textbook lists of UC Sunnydale.
Miss Kitty yawned loudly, making Tara twitch. Willow glanced up at the movement.
"Bad kitty, waking up Mama Tara." Willow tucked the book into a stack of others on her desk, then came over to the bed. "Good morning, sweetie."
Tara accepted the kiss happily. "Good morning. What were you reading?"
Willow blinked. "Reading? Oh, just getting a head start on that stupid business management course I have to take this year. Not like I'm ever going to be managing an office or something. I thought you were going to sleep for hours."
"You should have woken me."
"Oh, but you looked so cute, curled up with Miss Kitty."
She leaned down for another kiss, and Tara let herself be distracted. An hour later, when they left to find breakfast/lunch/whatever, Tara glanced at Willow's desk. The stack of books seemed perfectly normal, just an average stack of text books with bright covers. Nothing leather bound or more than five years old.
"Come on, honey," Willow said in the hall, holding out a hand. "I'm hungry."
Tara took her lover's hand and told herself to stop worrying.
***
The drive north passed surprisingly pleasantly. Xander argued music with Joyce till they found some common ground with Sting and the Police. However, Xander inadvertently started a 75-mile argument with the statement "Carlos Santana--didn't he play with Matchbox 20?"
A full Santana CD later, he managed to get a word in edgewise. "I'm not saying he's not good, I'm just saying I never heard of him before. Have you ever heard of Matchbox 20?"
Joyce shrugged. "I've heard Buffy play them. They're--not bad. They can actually play melodies. Unlike a lot of bands these days."
Xander laughed. "Oh, yeah, bands these days. I have heard that Led Zeppelin bunch, and you can hardly understand that lead singer of theirs. That 'Stairway to Heaven' thing, what the heck is that about, anyway?"
He thought Joyce might just have another aneurysm on him, the way she was looking at him, and then what the hell was he going to do? Leave her with a local hospital, change his name, and start hitching rides to far points?
She laughed, finally. "All right, fair point. Half the time I can't understand Robert Plant, either. It helps if you're stoned. Watch the road!"
He managed to stop staring at her in shock, but it took a little before he could get his jaw to stop hanging open in disbelief.
"You shouldn't stay stuff like that! Just say no! D.A.R.E.! This is your brain on drugs! That's what they've been teaching us in school, and you just come out and say Led Zeppelin makes sense if you're stoned?"
Joyce shrugged. "Well, that's what I heard. From the kids in school. I'm not sure 'Kashmir' ever made a great deal of sense." She flipped through her CD binder. "I think I have some if you want to hear it."
"Druggie music." He realized he was sounding like Mr. Martin the Health Teacher and went for a different tack. "I've got some Hank Williams Jr." He laughed at the look of dismay on Joyce's face. "Or how about Waylon and Willie?"
"How about the Stones?"
"At least I've heard of them. Keith Richards. He's one of the undead, isn't he."
She snickered. "If he was one of the undead, do you think he'd look like that?"
"Point," he laughed. "Still, those are some snaggly looking old guys."
Joyce didn't argue as she turned to another page in her binder. "I've got 'Steel Wheels' and 'Voodoo Lounge.' Shall I put one in?"
"Sure, bring on the scary grandpas."
The sign warning that the Los Padres National Forest exit was coming up soon went by. Xander let the navigational portion of his mind make note of that, but he kept his thinking centers focused on old music rather than on destinations.
They stopped for lunch at the same restaurant as they stopped at last time. The place was full of travellers this time, families on vacation, hikers headed for the mountains, people with maps and sunburns.
"And gas prices are easily twenty cents more per gallon than they were in the spring," Xander observed as they were finally shown to a table.
"So are the food prices," Joyce added, studying her menu.
"If you cover the refueling, I'll cover lunch." He saw her look at him in uncertainty. "I've been putting in a lot of overtime, I can easily spring for a tourist-priced lunch."
She smiled graciously. "All right, then. Deal."
To his surprise, the lunch she ordered paid mere lip-service to the idea of either healthy or low-cal. She bit into her bacon cheeseburger with delight, then made a noise of inquiry at his stare.
"You don't eat like a girl," he blurted out.
She swallowed and smiled. "Life is short. Eat a cheeseburger."
He nodded but his smile was a little forced. Life is short. Damned straight.
They worked through their burgers and fries and drinks in peaceful silence for ten minutes. When Joyce took a deep breath over her last fry, though, Xander braced himself.
"How's Anya?" she asked, paying more attention to the puddle of ketchup on her plate than to him.
"She's fine." He licked a finger and began picking up the stray sesame seeds from his hamburger bun. He finally couldn't help looking up at Joyce's continuing silence. She was wearing the Concerned Parent face, a look that only seemed to get directed at him by people he wasn't related to. "Don't, please," he said as she took another breath.
"Xander--"
"Please!"
She frowned a moment longer, then reached across the table to pat his hand. "All right, I'm sorry. It's just--we worry."
"Everything's fine." He couldn't help smiling just a little at the "I don't believe you" that went over Joyce's face. "We're--managing."
"And that odd--person. With the horns. Who you made the deal with. What about him?"
"D'Hoffryn. Anya's boss." He found some sesame seeds he'd missed. "Haven't seen him. When he shows I'll deal. When did you want to get back on the road?'
She frowned a moment more, then nodded. "We probably should get going. I'll meet you at the car."
Xander signaled for the check as he watched Joyce make her careful way across the restaurant. That hadn't gone nearly as bad as he'd been afraid of. And maybe she'd leave the subject alone. Too bad Buffy and Willow wouldn't take No for an answer on discussing Anya and the deal. He had no idea what D'Hoffryn had in mind. The demon might hold on to that debt for twenty years or something. What could the master of vengeance demons possibly need from one human? Best not think too long in that direction.
The waitress arrived with the check, and he headed for the cashier. Some snacks and some drinks for the rest of the drive, that would keep his mind away from things that were best left alone.
Johnny Cash and Bruce Springsteen filled most of the air on the rest of the trip into the mountains. Joyce told a tale of sneaking into a Springsteen concert, but only after making Xander swear he'd never tell Buffy. The mother-daughter negotiating field was delicately balanced enough without adding material like Joyce lying to her own mother about a sleep-over with a friend as cover for going to the forbidden concert.
The side roads that led away from the park entrance were busier at this time of year. By the time they reached the rutted turnoff marked by the small roadside shrine of Saint Eugene, though, they hadn't seen another vehicle for half an hour. Xander slowed for the turn, then hesitated.
Joyce started to ask what was wrong, but then she remembered Anya hopping out of the bus to identify the shrine on the last trip up here. If there had been anyone else to ask to drive her up here, she would have asked them. She hated dragging Xander through the memories of everything that had happened.
Xander glanced over at her cautiously, but he seemed to relax when she didn't say anything. Without a word, he drove on.
The air was drier and dustier in August. Rabbits and mule deer leaped out of hiding in the bushes as the car drove past. Joyce lowered her window and leaned out, letting the wind blow through her hair. It made a good cover for the tears that threatened.
This was the summer she thought she'd never see. When doctors used words like glioma and cerebrum and operable, a woman's long-term planning was suddenly defined in days and weeks, not seasons. Then the Glory thing had blown up, and it was all Joyce could do to hang on to Dawn's survival, much less her own. It had taken weeks after Glory's defeat for Joyce to start thinking again of the future as something that might be counted in years. She'd had a follow-up visit with her neurosurgeon three days ago, and Dr. Isaacs had told her that all the scans showed clean. All that was left to do was to continue her exercises to regain what function she could, plus a check-up in a year, just to be sure.
She sniffed, hoping the sound of the wheels on the dirt road would cover it. She was going to be all right. Her daughters were safe. The world was a beautiful place. It was such a damned shame that not everyone got to feel like this.
She pulled her head in and looked at Xander, who was glaring out at the road. No one as young as he should have those lines between his eyebrows. "Thank you," she said.
He blinked in surprise. "Huh? Um, you're welcome, I guess. For what?"
"For driving me this weekend. I know this brings up bad memories--and, don't worry, I'm not going to go into them anymore. But it makes it even more kind of you to come all this way with me."
He shrugged and started to reel off some witty reply, then subsided. "You're welcome," he finally said. "And thank you, too."
She nodded and started watching ahead for the first sign of the convent.
The valley opened before them in the hot summer afternoon. The wheat in the field was as tall as the windows of the Land Rover, and the heavy stalks waved in the breeze like a patriotic commercial.
Joyce sighed in pleasure. "It looks just like my uncle's place in the Imperial Valley. I always loved watching the different colors of the crops in the wind."
Xander peered briefly out into the fields. "Do you see anybody working?"
"They're probably all inside. Wheat doesn't really need much looking after at this time of year. Oh, I wish there was a way I could have warned them we were coming, I hate just dropping in on people like this."
The gates--roughly repaired but whole--were still open to all comers. Xander fought the shiver of deja vu that took him as he drove carefully through the gateway, mindful of the chickens milling around the courtyard. He turned off the engine, then realized he was reluctant to raise his eyes from staring at the steering wheel. The last time he'd seen this courtyard, the bullet holes were still fresh in the walls, the courtyard still showed dark stains, and the smell of blood hung in the background.
Finally he forced himself to look up--at a view as pristine and peaceful as the last time he'd driven into this place. The walls of the buildings were newly whitewashed; the dirt of the courtyard was neatly raked. The timelessness of the place rolled on, unmarked by the events of a couple of very busy days in its long history. He took a deep breath and was able to let it out without any of the shakiness he'd been afraid of.
From out of the chapel came a familiar figure. Sister Agnes peered at the vehicle curiously, then a huge smile appeared. "Joyce Summers? Oh, blessed Mother, how wonderful to see you!"
Joyce unsnapped her seatbelt and opened her door. "Careful!" Xander said quickly as she climbed out, but she neither paid attention to him nor to any issues of her balance. She did hold on to the door for a moment to regain her equilibrium, then took a few steps to meet the Mother Superior's hug.
Other sisters appeared from various spots, and they all sounded quite pleased and excited to see the visitors. Giving a completely fake sigh of resignation, Xander also climbed out of the Land Rover, ready to greet the women who had declared themselves proxy aunts.
Sister Agnes, though, got to him first. "Xander, dear boy," she said as she hugged him. She pulled back to look at him, but she didn't say any of the things he expected. She only studied him for several moments, nodded briefly to herself, then hugged him again. He was hugging her back when something impacted against his left ankle.
"Za-er! Za-er!"
"What the--" He looked down to find a somewhat bigger Baynar glued to his leg, grinning up at him in toothy demon delight. "Did you just say my name?"
Sister Agnes laughed. "Yes, his English is getting much better. We now at least know what language he's babbling incomprehensibly at us in."
Baynar bounced. "Za-er!"
Xander finally laughed. "Hey, little dude." He crouched down and scooped up the little demon into a fierce hug.
The sisters tried to refuse the gifts Joyce had brought, but for once they had run into a force more powerful than their certain faith: the generosity of a grateful woman. While Sister Agnes was still in the process of graciously giving in, Xander shrugged and began unloading boxes from the Land Rover. He asked Baynar for directions, and the little demon happily led the way to the kitchen and to the storage rooms.
He found Savlin, Baynar's mother, in the tool shed, sharpening a hoe. The large Minoto smiled at Xander. "You have returned."
"So I have."
Savlin came over and made what seemed to be pleased noises over the box of hand tools Xander had brought in.
"I thought you and your family were going to San Francisco," Xander said as he helped her unpack the pruning shears and trowels.
"We have been waiting for word about my mate, Baynar's father, yes. He was supposed to meet us here. He will be here in another few days, then we will go on to the city to join the rest of our clan." She looked down at Baynar, who was still staying close to Xander's leg. "I am pleased we are able to see you again."
Xander shrugged and grinned. "Kind of nice to see you and the little rugrat, too." He grinned down at Baynar, who hissed and bounced before tugging on Xander's pantleg.
"Now," Baynar said, pointing to the door. "Now."
"Why am I not surprised that he's learned that word," Xander said to Savlin with a smile.
Savlin shook her head. "He is young, and the world does not move quickly enough for him. Go, I shall unpack these."
"Cool, thanks." He held his hand out to Baynar. "OK, little dude, where are we off to?" Baynar squealed and began tugging Xander off with surprising strength.
He was conducted on a tour of the convent, narrated in a fairly incomprehensible mix of Minoto hisses and stray English words. Baynar pointed out the repaired gate, the chicken coops, the grape arbor, then led the way out to show off the cows and the plowhorse. The nuns they passed all smiled at him and said how nice it was to see him again. Something in his spine unkinked, and he felt like he was standing straight for the first time in weeks.
As they rounded the back wall of the convent, Baynar paused with a small squeak. Xander looked at him and saw the little demon was staring up the slope at the olive grove--and the graveyard laying there.
"Let's not, OK?" he said tightly.
Baynar looked up at him, a worried look on his face, then he turned around and led the way back the way they'd come.
They found Savlin and the rest of the Minoto coming in from the field. There were two more of the demons than had been present in the spring, and they stared uncertainly at Xander. Savlin and the others hissed quickly at them, but that didn't stop them staring.
"Not used to humans, huh?" Xander said.
Savlin nodded. "We are telling them that you are a good human, that you are the one who defended us that long night against the bad men and against Glory."
He blushed hard and felt a little sick. "It wasn't just me. Buffy and--and Giles did the heavy lifting on taking Glory down. Hell, even Spike helped."
"Yes, we have told them. It is a good story to tell on a summer night when we are sitting under the stars, frightening and heroic."
The two newcomers were whispering together and giving him furtive looks. But they didn't look like nervous looks. He took a step away. "It wasn't like that--well, maybe it was. Frightening, anyway. But I just did what I had to."
Savlin nodded again. "Yes, a good tale. A strong tale. There have been several who have come to hear of the destruction of Glory."
"What? People have come here . . ."
"The word has spread. When we go to the city, there will be many who will seek us out to hear the story from ones who witnessed it."
And that was nausea twisting his gut. "Look, please, you can't--I don't want--what are you telling them?"
She tilted her head, a bit perplexed. "The truth. You and your friends stood against an army and would not let them do us harm. And when Glory came, you fought her as well. It was a brave thing, and we are honored to have witnessed it."
Xander didn't know why her words hurt so much. There had been no time for bravery, only for fear and resignation and the knowledge that there were no choices. It shouldn't be a story to be told over beers to a bunch of people who had no idea what had happened. He hated the idea that strangers knew what he had done.
One of the others hissed at Savlin, who nodded and hefted her shovel. "We must get the tools put away before supper. We shall talk later, Xander Harris." She spoke briefly to her son, who nodded quickly. "Baynar will try to tell you that he does not need to wash before he eats. Do not believe him."
"Yeah, OK."
The Minoto continued inside the convent, and Baynar tugged on Xander's hand, leading the way down the road to show him something in the fields. Xander focused on the high-pitched voice instead of the screams in his memory.