Buffy tried to pull away, squeaking when she was unsuccessful. “Will, that's my flight they're talking about. You're gonna have to let me go sometime or I'll miss it.”
“Maybe that's what I'm trying to achieve,” Willow's muffled voice answered back. But despite her words, she finally let Buffy go, stepping away and fingering the home made chain of beads and feathers around her neck – a habit she often employed when she was anxious or upset.
“Aw, honey, come on! I'll only be gone for six months. Then I'll be back out here with you and travelling the world once more.”
Willow sighed and pouted. “I know, I know. It's just that it'll be so weird! I haven't travelled a day without you since we met in Denmark last year!”
Buffy laughed and rolled her eyes at Willow's typical drippy behaviour. She had learnt a lot about the eccentric girl in the year that she had known her, including the fact that she tended to over-dramatize everything. “And you did perfectly fine without me before then. I'm sure you'll be just peachy now.”
“It'll still be strange. You better promise to email me all the time, missy. Like, every day. I want to know everything that happens in the crazy world of Buffy Summers.”
“You know I will. And you too! I wanna hear about every place you go to, every country. And ooh, hey! Maybe you can even visit me in Sunnydale!”
“Count on it! You can introduce me to that hunky sounding brother of yours.”
“Okay. Firstly...ew. Secondly...he has a girlfriend. Joy someone or other. She's a cheerleader at the local university. Totally Xander's type.”
Willow shrugged. “Never mind. I'm sure I'll find someone else to keep me occupied while I'm there.”
“You're shameless.”
“A hussy to the core.”
Another announcement played over the airport speakers, and Buffy cringed and leant down to pick up her hand luggage. “I have to go, or I'm really gonna miss my flight.”
“Okay, fine,” Willow grumbled. “But one more hug.”
It had been the longest flight in the history of the world. No, the history of the universe! Or at least that's how it had felt to Buffy.
The on-flight movie had been awful – like, rip your eyeballs out awful. The food had been awful – crap so stale that Buffy was sure she was going to be ill later. The obnoxious air hostesses had been awful. And the rude, pervy man sitting next to her had been the most awful thing of all.
All in all, it was really no surprise that Buffy burst into great, heaving sobs at the sight of her mother waiting for her in the tiny Sunnydale airport, dressed in her usual headscarf and floaty dress and smelling of lavender and candle smoke. Everything about her was just so welcoming, and Buffy was just so tired – she'd been too afraid to sleep on the plane just in case pervy man had decided to use the opportunity to cop a feel – that she couldn't help but have a little sniffle when Joyce wrapped her up tightly in a warm embrace.
A quick trip to the airport toilets and café later, Buffy was back to looking and feeling like her normal, functioning self. A naturally curious person, she impressed herself by waiting until she and Joyce had gotten all the way to the car and were driving home before she began questioning her mother on the situation.
“Oh, it's those two fathers of yours,” Joyce started disapprovingly, referring to Hank and her second husband, Rupert. “They've been up to no good again, as usual. I swear to the holy heavens, the day those two men became best friends was the day my life turned upside-down. Always up to mischief, they are. And if they aren't then it's only because they're too busy scheming to create some.”
Buffy 'hmm'd' in agreement, more than used to her father and step-father's antics. Every time she came home for a visit they'd be holed up together, giggling like naughty schoolboys and getting up to God only knew what. “What did they do this time?”
“They went and got themselves arrested, that's what they did!” Joyce announced loudly, wildly flourishing her arms.
“Mom!” Buffy screeched when the car swerved to the side and someone behind them honked furiously.
“Sorry, sorry!” Joyce lowered her hands back down to the wheel, leaving Buffy to work at slowing down her furiously beating heart.
“And what?!” she exclaimed, once her body had calmed and her mind had had time to process what her mother had just said. Of all the things she'd thought to expect, that hadn't been one of them.
“I know! Silly elephants! And they've been jailed too! For six months, I might add.”
“Jailed?! For six months?! Why didn't you call and tell me about this sooner?”
“Well I didn't want to worry you, honey.”
“Mom, I'm not a kid any more. You need to tell me this kinda stuff.” She paused, allowing herself a moment to process everything. “Jeez, six months. What the hell did they do?”
Her mother tutted and sent her a frown. “Language, Buffy!”
She rolled her eyes at Joyce's old fashioned ways. Only she would think to scold her for using the word 'hell'. Buffy actually found her mother's eccentric ways quite lovely, though it would take a serious amount of torture to get her to admit it. “Sorry,” she expressed. I meant to say what the frik did they do?”
“Is that really any better, young lady?”
No, she was wrong. Her mother wasn't lovely, she was annoying. “Come on, Mom! Will you just tell me what's going on already? Why were they arrested?”
“My, there's no need to shout at me, I can hear you, you know.”
Buffy sucked in a deep, calming breath. “Please, Mom,” she insisted though gritted teeth.
“Don't have a fit, Buffy. Golly, I thought travelling was supposed to relax you.” At her daughter's pointed glare, Joyce cleared her throat and continued. “Your fathers were protesting outside of the coffee house again-”
“Old Mrs Jackson's place? Why on earth would they do that? She's so sweet.”
“Well as you know, the coffee house was left to Mrs Jackson after her husband passed away all those years ago, but as it turns out, she was just its caretaker until their son-”
“Elliot?”
“That's the one. She was just its caretaker until Elliot turned twenty one.”
“But isn't he like, forty or something? Way over twenty one, anyway.”
“Thirty eight, actually. But apparently he never wanted the place up until recently.”
“When he suddenly decided he wanted to take it over?”
“No. Well yes. No. He wanted the property, that's all. He wanted to close down the coffee house and use the space.”
“For what?”
“A gun store, of all things.”
“A gun store? Are you kidding me? That's crazy! What can he think we'd possibly need a gun store for in a tiny little town like ours?”
“That's not even the worst of it. He wanted to move back to town so he told his mother she'd have to leave the little flat she lives in above the coffee house.”
“Shut up! No way! What a bas...I mean, what an evil toad! Not only is he getting rid of the coffee house – which has been around like, forever – but he's kicking little old Mrs Jackson out of her home, too? No wonder Dad and Giles were protesting! Hell, I'll protest against that ass! Screw the police, I'll risk jail!”
“Aw, sweetheart! It's adorable of you to get so worked up about it but you really needn't worry. After realizing he'd never get any business and that he was about to ostracise himself from a whole town he headed back to New York with his tail set firmly between his legs. I don't think we'll have to worry about him coming back any time soon.”
“And Mrs Jackson's okay? She doesn't have to leave her home or her shop?”
“Not in the immediate future, no.”
“Wow. And he left after the protest?”
“Of course. Otherwise there would never have been any need for the dratted thing in the first place and your fathers would be at home where they belong.”
“I'm still not sure I understand. How could a simple coffee house protest end up with them both in prison? They must have been in eight different protests this year alone.”
Joyce winced. “Things got a little out of hand, I suppose. Arguments started, a punch or two was thrown, the occasional kick in the shin. It all ended up in a series of arrests and Judge Gilmore gave Hank and Rupert six months in prison as they were leading the whole thing. She said that she was sick and tired of the trouble the pair of them cause and that she was teaching them a lesson. Using them as an example.”
“An example to who?”
“Oh, I don't know. Hank and Rupert, other would be protesters, the population of Sunnydale. Who knows how that woman's mind works. What matters is that they're in jail and that that's where they'll be for the next six months!”
“God, that sucks! And how's Darla coping?”
Her father's second wife, while being as sweet as cherry pie, could rival even Willow with her tendency to overreact. She was the most emotional woman Buffy had ever met. Only last year she had locked herself in her bedroom for a day and a half because Hank had forgotten to bring home the apples like he had promised.
“In pieces, the poor dear. And with those two boys to look after, as well. It was all a complete nightmare. Which is why I invited her to come and live with me until our husbands return home.”
Buffy blinked in surprise. “You did what?”
“I just felt so bad for her and Thomas and Jesse, all alone in that big house with no one to take care of them. And she really does need help with the boys, they can be very demanding, trust me.”
“They're seven years old, what exactly are they demanding? Toy trucks and juice?”
“You clearly have no idea how hard bringing up a child can be. God only knows how she copes with two of them at the same time. At least you and Xander were a few years apart.”
Buffy smiled warmly at her mother. “Well I think asking them to live you you is a really nice idea, Mom. Very generous of you.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I'll tell you, though, it's a houseful. What with Darla in your old old room and the twins in Xander's. I'm awfully afraid you'll have to sleep on the couch. You don't mind too much, do you?” Joyce shot Buffy a worried glance.
“No, the couch is fine, honestly. And I'll try and find somewhere to crash as soon as I can, I promise. I'm sure one of my friends has a spare room somewhere. But I'm just a little confused. What exactly did you need me to come home for? I mean, I'm glad to be here for support and all, but you seemed like you needed me for something? Surely you don't need help with the twins? 'Cause you know how bad I am with kids, right?”
“No, no! Nothing like that! Lord, I still cringe when I remember the time you babysat for little Colin when you were fourteen.”
They both winced as they remembered how that had turned out.
“No,” Joyce continued. “I need your help with the shop. With looking after Darla and Jesse and Thomas I just don't have enough hours in the day to run it. And try as I might, I just can't seem to get my head around all the paperwork – you know how bad I am with all that boring stuff, it's much more Rupert's thing. He or Xander usually take care of it but with him in jail and Xander busy with the construction site I'm just completely lost.”
Buffy nodded as her mother explained, remembering the hours she had spent working in The Magic Box as a teenager.
Joyce and Rupert had opened the place not long after they'd married eight years ago, and for a shop that sold 'magical' items that were actually no more magical than Buffy's little toenail, it did surprisingly well. Apparently the residents of Sunnydale actually wanted their houses filled with incense sticks and candles and magical charms.
“So, you want me to take over the shop until Giles gets back?”
“I'll help out when I can, of course. And I've hired a nice young boy to help out, too. Wendall, his name is. He's still at school but he can work on weekends and the occasional evening.”
“Well, sure I can do that. Anything to help you guys out.”
“Oh, thank you, Buffy!” her mother gushed with a relieved sigh. “You don't know how good that is to hear. I've been in a tizz about it all week.”
As her mother continued to ramble, Buffy sat back and rubbed her forehead, exhaustion taking over her weary bones and making her eyes grow heavy. She smiled as she began to drift off to the reassuring sound of her mother's voice, thinking that despite all of the drama, it was surprisingly good to be home.
William Wright felt unbearably hot. And bitterly cold. He felt empty, and so full of emotions that he thought he might explode all over his stylishly furnished sitting room. The stylishly furnished sitting room that she had picked out, for God's sake. “You're what?” he questioned, his shaking voice quiet and disbelieving.
A bored looking Cordelia sighed wearily and sat back in a dark leather armchair, crossing her long legs and tutting as if breaking his heart into tiny little pieces was just some great imposition on her time. “I said I'm leaving you, Will. It's over. The end. Finito.”
He rubbed his clammy hands over his jeans clad knees, unable to understand how she could act this way. So...so flippant! They'd been together for almost two years! They loved each other, didn't they? “But...why? I thought we were happy? You seemed happy.”
She looked down at her red talons with obvious disinterest. “Sure we were. Happy as bunnies or whatever. But I have to follow my dreams. You want me to follow my dreams, right? If I want to be a real actress then I can't very well do it from a crappy little hell hole like Sunnydale! I need to be in LA, with all the other big stars.”
“So you want to move to LA, that's fine!” Will announced desperately. “But that doesn't mean that we have to break up! I can come up to LA on weekends, and you can visit back here. We can work something out! We don't have to be over!”
“I see your point, I do, honest. But I really think I should be single if I'm going to make it big as an actress.”
“Wha-? Why on earth would you-? I don't understand, why would you need to be single? Is that some kind of famous person rule?”
She flicked an invisible bit of fluff off of her otherwise perfectly put together outfit, a look that was almost guilty passing across her face. “You never know when there might be certain...opportunities.”
Oh. Now he got it. His darling little sweetie pie had decided that in order to become a big star she was going to sleep her way to the top, do it the easy way. And she didn't need some small town boyfriend back home getting in the way of her barely there conscience. That was what she was really trying to say. Will knew it, she knew it. As much as she claimed to care about him, she cared about being famous more. Callous bitch.
She slapped a hand on her knee in a final kind of way and stood up, eyeing Will pitifully. “I'm just gonna go, okay sweetie? You can just have anything I've left here sent out to me once I've found a place to live.”
He watched blankly as she picked up her bag and headed over to the apartment door. “Yeah,” he replied dully. “Sure I'll do that. And don't forget me when you're all big and famous. Be sure to send me an autograph.”
She turned back, her scarlet lips stretched out into a wide grin. “Of course I won't forget you, big-boy.”
And then she was gone, leaving him to wonder at how she could have possibly misinterpreted his words for anything other than sarcasm.
“Boy, that was exhausting!” Buffy tiredly claimed later that evening, as Joyce arranged some blankets on the settee for her. “Who knew feeding and putting to bed two seven year old boys could be so freakin' draining.”
“I couldn't agree more.” This was proved merely by the fact that for once Joyce failed to scold Buffy for the use of the word 'freakin''. “Apparently they really don't like to sleep. Will this be okay for you?” she asked, as she stood up straight to survey her handiwork.
“Perfect, thank you. And I'll get on to finding that place to crash first thing tomorrow, I promise.”
“Oh, Buffy! You've flown half way around the world just to help me out! You can stay here as long as you like, it's your home! I only wish I could offer you your old room instead of this worn out old sofa.”
“I appreciate that, Mom, but the house really is pretty crowded. I think it would be best for the sanity of everyone involved if I found some place else.”
“Well...as long as you're really sure you don't mind?”
“Of course I don't.”
“Okay then.” Joyce yawned and stretched, a relived smile stretching out her face. “It's been a stressful day, I think I'll go upstairs and meditate for half an hour before bedtime. See you in the morning, honey. 'Kay?”
“Sure will, Mom. Sleep well.”
Joyce brushed an affectionate hand over Buffy's hair and kissed the top of her head. “You too,” she said, before disappearing up the stairs towards her bedroom.
Buffy flopped down onto the couch, not even getting so far as to pull the blankets over herself before she drifted off into an exhausted sleep.
“She'll come crawling back to you, man, I guarantee it,” a privately relived Xander consoled Will as they nursed a couple of beers together in a quiet corner of the Bronze. It wasn't like he hated Cordelia or anything, it was just that he thought that she was an awful human being and should never have been allowed the luxury of speech. Or, ya know, life.
“You think?” Will asked hopefully, his voice slurring just the slightest bit.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, this is Cordelia we're talking about here. The girl who's never stuck to one thing for more than a week, remember? Once she realizes that she's not gonna make it all big and famous in actress land she'll be straight back home to you with her sorry little tail hidden between her legs.”
Will looked up in surprise. “You don't reckon she'll make it? Seriously? Not even with her looks and personality?”
“Okay, I admit, she may be seriously hot, and her pushy, overbearing personality will probably help her out a time or two...but you're forgetting one thing, my drunken friend.”
“Yeah, what's that?”
“Girl can't act for shit.”
Will winced for a moment at his best friend's brutal honesty, before admitting to himself that Xander was probably right. “True,” he mumbled with a nod. “But hey, even if she did come crawling back, who says I'd even have her? Got my pride, ya know?”
Snorting, Xander took a hearty gulp of his beer and wiped his mouth before answering. “Pride schmide. She left you like six hours ago, dude, and all you've achieved since then is the happy certainty of a hangover tomorrow morning.”
Will groaned and banged his forehead down against the sticky tabletop, muttering something under his breath. Xander wasn't quite sure, but it sounded to him like 'Heartless bitch'. He hoped to hell his buddy was talking about Cordelia, and not him.
He slapped Will on the back, wondering whether or not he should mention the fact that he was pretty damn sure that Will had just made one hell of a great escape. Cordelia was a bitch, pure and simple, and she'd been messing the guy around for way too long. “Come on, there are plenty more fish in the sea..” he decided on in the end. “Fish, I might add at the risk of sounding a little gay, that are dying to get a good old taste of the ol' William action.”
“Oh, pish.”
“Hey! Would I lie to you? You know it's true. You've had flocks of girls twittering around you ever since high school.”
This time it was Will's turn to snort. “Even if that was true, this is bloody Sunnydale. I've lived here twelve years now and I've known every girl here that exact amount of time. It'd be weird.”
“Jeez, twelve years. I feel old.”
“Twenty eight isn't old, is it?”
Xander shrugged. “Maybe not. But I don't think it's young, either.”
“Anyway, my point is that nobody new ever comes to town, let alone new...fish, or whatever.”
“And that's where you're wrong, my brother. There is indeed a newbie to town. She arrived today, in fact.”
A little line appeared between Will's eyebrows as he pondered Xander's words. “I've not heard about anyone new. Who?”
“My sister, Buffy,” Xander notified with with a self satisfied grin. “She came home from her travels today.”
Will tried his hardest to paste an interested look on his face...and failed miserably. Xander's little sister, from what he could remember, was a skinny little nut-job with a great love of herbs and all things spiritual. A hippy to the core, just like her parents. She had also been best friends with his own little sister, Drusilla, since the pair had been only twelve years old. Buffy had spent a lot of time at his house when they were younger, but he'd been far to busy 'hanging out and being cool' with his own friends to ever really pay her any attention. A time or two he might have worried about what kind of influence she was having on his sister if Dru hadn't been such a strange little individual herself. God only knew what the pair of them had gotten up to. “She doesn't count. Known her since she was a kid.”
“Whoa whoa whoa there, buddy! Not tryna set you up with her! No way! This is my kid sister we're talking about here. I'm just pointing out that there's more going on in this town than the almighty William thinks he knows about.”
It had never really occurred to Will before, but he couldn't help but wonder how Xander had turned out so...normal...compared to the rest of his family. “Hardly a kid any more. She must be around twenty four now, same as Dru.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, you mean you're an overprotective arse.”
“Maybe. But you know you're just the same with Dru.”
“True.”
The two men sat in reflective silence for a moment longer.
“Another drink, man?” Xander asked finally, standing up and draining his own bottle.
“God, yes.”