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“Mom?!” she repeated, scrambling to her feet, her expression one of surprise and wary delight.

“You look tired, honey,” her mother commented softly, taking a step towards her.

The tears that had barely stopped threatened to return again and she bit her lip. Just then, Spike let out a hoarse cry and she saw her mother start, worried eyes going to the door beside her.

“Is that Spike?” her mother asked quietly, eyes darting between the door and Buffy.

“Yeah,” she answered, wondering how her mother seemed to know what was going on. Joyce shook of her daze then and turned to her with a soft smile.

“Why don’t you come downstairs? I’ve brought some food. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

She glanced at the door, heard Spike let out another cry and then turned back to her mother and nodded hesitantly.

“That would be good.”

She followed her mother down the stairs, both awkwardly silent, and found a selection of takeaway on the living room table. Her stomach instantly rumbled at the sight of food – after all, she had been living on scraps for the last few days – and at her mother’s nod, she dropped into a chair and dived into the first container, her hunger replacing any thought of propriety.

She wolfed down as much as her stomach could handle as her mother sat watching her silently and then turned to her with a sheepish look.

“Who told you I was here?”

“Mr. Giles.”

She nodded and then raised her eyes as her mother spoke up.



“Buffy, I’m so sorry.”

Stunned, she sat in uncomfortable silence, fiddling with her hands under the table.

“I never meant… What I said, before you left, I didn’t mean it. You’re my daughter and I love you. I was just so… so scared and confused.”

“You don’t think I was scared and confused?!” she retorted helplessly, “I was coming to kill my boyfriend, Mom! Or did Giles leave that bit out?”

“He told me all about Angel. And the… the spell. He’s good again now, right?”

“Yes, he’s good.”

Her mother was silent for a moment, seemingly absorbing that information, and then she spoke up again.

“And you and Spike aren’t in a band.”

“No.”

“He’s a… vampire too.”

Her mother spoke the word as if it was something foreign and unfamiliar, frowning slightly.

“Yes.”

“And he’s good too?”

“He’s got a soul now,” Buffy explained, “It’s like a conscience so it means he can’t do evil things without feeling bad about it.”

“He sounded like he was in pain,” Joyce murmured, eyes going to the ceiling.

“Well, he’s already got a lot of bad things to feel sorry about.”

Her mother was watching her intently now, studying her, and she averted her gaze, feeling uncomfortable.



“Are you safe here?” her mother asked, “He won’t-“

“Spike won’t hurt me, Mom,” she murmured, eyes fixed on the table, “He’s too busy hurting himself.”

She sighed and twisted her hands together awkwardly.

“I can defend myself against Spike if I have to anyway,” she explained, “This weak, he’s not a threat.”

“But he was before?”

She sighed and raised her head, giving her mother a crooked smile.

“You remember Parent Teacher Night? When those… gangs attacked the school? A man was trying to hurt me and you hit him over the head with an axe?”
“Yes! Was that a… vampire?”

“It was Spike,” she remarked with a half smile, “He was going to kill me and you saved me.”

She could see her mother was stunned by this and she sat back, fiddling with her hands as she tried to work out what had brought her mother here.

“Your life is so dangerous,” Joyce whispered, drawing her attention back to her.

“Well, yeah. But it’s not like I have a choice.”

“You can’t just decide not to be the Slayer?” her mother asked hopefully.

“No. I’ll be the Slayer until I die.”



They fell into another uncomfortable silence and with a sigh, she pushed herself to her feet.

“I really should check on Spike. I don’t like leaving him alone. He… he hurts himself.”

Her mother looked up at her than and she thought she saw something like pride in her mother’s gaze. Joyce stood beside her and reached out to run a hand over her hand.

“You’re such a loving, strong girl.”

She gave a twisted smile and went to move away.

“Let me come with you,” Joyce spoke up and she paused, turning back to her in surprise, “I only just got here and there’s still lots we need to talk about. But if you have to check on Spike…”

“Mom, I don’t know. I mean-“

“You said he won’t hurt anyone.”

“Well, no.”

“Good. Let’s go then. Will he want some food?” Joyce asked, turning to the leftovers.

“No. He doesn’t eat human food.”

“Oh,” her mother intoned, pasting on a smile and following her up the stairs. As they reached the door, she paused and turned to her mother.

“It’s not… nice. He’s… he’s kinda crazy.”

Her mother nodded, a look of calm on her face.

“Just… stay by the door, okay? I don’t want to take any chances.”



She went in and moved over to the corner where Spike was huddled, head resting on his knees, hands in his hair. It seemed he was back to his usual state again after that brief period of lucidity.

“William?” she whispered as she got close.

“Voices… the voices keep coming… can’t get no rest… it hurts all the time.”

“I know,” she soothed, lowering herself beside him and brushing a hand over his bowed head as she threw her mother a worried look. Joyce remained by the door, as promised, watching on with an expression of curiosity, pity and surprise.

“Hey, Sp- William. You remember my mom, right? We told her we were in a band, remember?”

“Blood spilled… all over the floor. Can’t get it off… not supposed to come off. Mother will scold us… mustn’t… not allowed…”

“She-she hit you with an axe that one time as well, remember?” she whispered helplessly, stroking his hair gently, “Bet you were really pissed about that, huh? You almost had me.”

When she thought back to the scarily calm smirk of William the Bloody as he came after her, eyes fixed on her with a predatory coldness, she could hardly reconcile that image with the vampire beside her now. He had once been a force to be feared, a Slayer of Slayers. And now he was reduced to this: helpless, crazed, tortured. With only a Slayer to help him. She knew she should feel relieved, like Giles had, that the Slayer of Slayers was no longer a threat but something in her protested at the thought of it. Spike was a fighter, like she was. Without the fight and all the passion of the hunt, what would he be like? She couldn’t help but think, a lesser man. She would almost rather have been fighting with him again than seeing him like this. Somehow, even with the wheelchair, he had been not quite safe, someone still to be treated with caution – but now… She was cut off as her mother spoke up, drawing her attention.

“Buffy, darling?”

She raised her head, only noticing now the tears tracing down her cheeks. She wiped them impatiently and pushed herself to her feet, careful not to startle Spike.



As soon as she reached the door, her mother wrapped her arms around her and she sank against her, crying. Her mother guided her away from the room and the next thing she knew, they were sitting on a bed in what must have been a neighbouring room and her mother was stroking her hair softly. She wiped her eyes again and raised her head, squaring her shoulders even as her mother passed a gentle hand over her hair.

“You’re exhausted,” she commented with a compassionate expression, “You need to sleep.”

She went to protest but her mother stopped her by holding up a hand.

“I know you want to help Spike, but what use are you if you’re exhausted? You can’t be with him every minute of every day, Buffy. You have to go on some trust.”

She was silent, taking in her mother’s words, knowing that she was right – if she exhausted herself, she would be no good to Spike.

“You’re right,” she whispered, “I just… I’m scared that he’ll hurt himself if I’m not there.”

“I’m sure he’ll be perfectly fine for a few hours while you sleep. He seemed quite calm just now.”

She looked up at her mother, wavering indecisively.

“Come on,” Joyce encouraged, “Lay down and get some rest. I’ll keep an eye on Spike.”

“You- Mom, no.”

“I’ll just listen out, make sure he’s calm… if I hear anything I don’t like, I’ll wake you.”

“Mom, you don’t have to do this.”

“My little girl is wasting away taking this burden on her… I’ll do anything to help her.”

The tears were coming again but she pushed them away, giving her mother a grateful smile before enveloping her in a tight hug.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, honey.”

Her mother was already guiding her backwards onto the bed, pulling the covers around and tucking her in as if she were a small girl still.

“Get some sleep and we’ll talk later.”

She nodded sleepily and within minutes she was fast asleep, enjoying the first deep sleep in a week.





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