A/N: Alright. New story from me. I originally did not intend to post this until I had it at least halfway done, but the muse is demanding that I see what y'all think right now. Some Kind of Oil is NOT abandoned, but my brain needs a serious break from it. Finals killed it, and I'm starting at UCLA for summer school in a couple of weeks, so I'm going to just go with whatever I can write now.
IMPORTANT THINGS TO READ BEFOREHAND!
1) This story is not strictly chronological - There's not flashbacks, but we do see pieces of the past among bits of the present (they are clearly labeled, so hopefully it won't be too confusing).
2) This will be TOTALLY confusing at first - Like I said, it's not chronological, so there's going to be bits of the story missing until later on in the fic. Questions WILL be answered though, and if you'd just bear with me to answer 'em, then that'd be awesome. :)
~*~
Chapter 1 – Alive with the Glory of Love
June 13, 1980
London, England
He stared at the small white object in her hands, the two pink lines standing out in sharp contrast to the paleness of the smooth plastic. Two pink lines. With those lines, a new life was beginning—from his lover and himself, something much greater than their own lives was growing. He could feel it.
Finally dragging his eyes away from the pregnancy test, his gaze fell upon the anxiously eager look on her face. “Well?” she asked breathlessly, her excitement tinged with an undertone of fear at how he would receive the news.
It was entirely unfounded. “I love you,” he murmured, a smile breaking across his face as he pulled her small body against him, brushing kisses across her cheeks, eyelids, lips. “Marry me.”
A relieved sob coursed through her body as the two lovers sank to the floor in an emotional heap, her expression awash with happiness even as tears coursed down her cheeks. “Oh, god, yes, of course Henry. I love you.”
Pulling away from their embrace, he stared intensely into her shining eyes, as if trying to ascertain whether she was telling the truth—not curious that she would be lying, of course, but wanting to see that someone as wonderful as her could truly love someone cursed with the evils of his past. Nothing, nothing in those jade irises told him otherwise—in his own dark gaze her eyes were reflected, bright and alive with the glory of the love she felt for him.
Suddenly unable to be even their short distance apart, Henry pulled her back against him, cradling her body with his strong arms. “Oh Joyce,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into her soft blonde hair. “I love you too.”
~*~
June 28, 1997
Atlantic International Airspace
“What the hell is that?”
“Language, Buffy,” Joyce replied automatically, turning her head to face her daughter with her chastising expression already in place.
“Sorry,” the sixteen-year-old replied flippantly, “Golly gee, what could that be?”
Joyce rolled her eyes. “No need to get sarcastic, my darling daughter,” she replied exasperatedly.
“Well where do you think I got it from, Mommy Dearest?” she shot back, gracing her mother with a genial grin before indicating a photo in the magazine she was flipping through. “And besides, I think that outfit definitely deserves a swear or two.”
“Well what the hell is that?” Joyce blurted out as soon as she saw the heiress’ elaborate costume, before glancing up, chagrined, and meeting her daughter’s slyly raised eyebrow. “And don’t you start on me, missy. I am an adult and can say as I wish.”
“Whatevs,” Buffy conceded good-naturedly, her tone clearly proclaiming her win where her words did not. “So! London.”
“London,” Joyce parroted when Buffy paused, knowing instinctively that her daughter had something to say but was trying to find out how to breach the subject. “It’s… pretty nice this time of year,” she offered lamely, her efforts rewarded when Buffy jumped on the subject.
“Oh yeah, I forgot that you went there when you were young,” she replied easily, her voice deceptively teasing as she asked, “What was that, thirty years ago?”
“Seventeen,” Joyce remarked with false annoyance, letting out a laugh; however, the look that briefly flashed across her daughter’s face not lost on the perceptive woman, and it let her know that her daughter had her own suspicions about the connections between both of her trips abroad.
Of course, there was no question why Buffy would be curious as to the nature of their visit. The two had rarely taken an impromptu visit to Los Angeles, let alone anywhere too far to drive—and London? Not exactly a typical summer vacation spot.
Joyce let out a sigh once Buffy turned towards the airplane window and put her white earphones on, turning her music on so loudly that her mother could make out the words. No, she knew her daughter would suspect that this trip was more than a hastily-planned vacation. She just couldn’t figure out how to bring up the subject that had been taboo since a little girl’s confused questions after she began kindergarten.
Oh, why did she agree to this damn trip? Joyce rubbed her throbbing temples and rested her head against the firm cushion of the seat. Plane rides had never been easy for her, even before all the airline restrictions had been put in place—and now she had on her mind the subject that she’d been avoiding for years, suddenly forced back into her life without so much as a “how are you, Joyce?”
Her daughter was only sixteen. Sixteen. An age far too young for Buffy to face the ugly truths her past held—hell, Joyce hadn’t been able to accept them when she was twenty. Her then-self had been so wrapped up in her love affair that she hadn’t been able to see the harsh light of day—but no, that wasn’t exactly true. She had seen the light—but it had blinded her, and left her crippled when the clouds finally came out of hiding and showed the truth for what it really was.
The woman closed her eyes, thinking back to that letter—that shocking piece of post that had obligated her to this trip back to hell. No, she was not looking forward to going back to London and reopening a chapter of her life that she had firmly closed, locked, and sealed the day her daughter was born. But there was something in her that didn’t want to let her own stubbornness cause her to regret that decision she made seventeen years ago, a decision that was her own to make but that affected the one person in the world she loved more than her own life.
She thought that if it came to this, she would be strong. That she would not be pulled back into that web of trickery, lies, and deceit, and she would proudly shield her daughter from its powerful call. But when that letter came and she realized her sixteen years of effort were about to be paid off, she found that there was nothing in her that felt relieved in the least. Not even justified.
And she realized she couldn’t let the father of her child die before their daughter could know the truth of his life.
~*~
A/N: Okay, so what do you think? Dumb? Silly? Pathetic that I’m going this path when, like, a billion other people have “gone there?” Any reviews are greatly appreciated, and again, ALL QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED! I have it all planned out, I’m just being silly and not telling you right away. :) Please review!
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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.