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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: Just to set the record straight, this story was originally posted on one of my other websites, but I am putting it here because it is a "Spuffy" story.

In this chapter, Joyce meets a very special vampire.
CHAPTER TWO

Buffy Summers tossed and turned in her bed upstairs as she saw another death in her dreams. She didn't know if she could take much more of the images which had been plaguing her of late.

The nineteen year old girl saw the alley; heard the death screams of yet another victim. She felt as though the being doing the killing ravaged her neck, drinking her blood.

She didn't know why she dreamed about the killings or about the tall stranger who sometimes fought for her on her behalf. It wasn't as though she knew any of the principal characters. Buffy wondered why she never seemed to dream about her current boyfriend of one year, Riley Finn.

Riley had been teaching English History as a substitute whenever Mrs. Snodgrass couldn't. Although both had strongly ignored their attraction to one another, one thing led to another, as did one date, and then another.

Now, Riley was a permanent fixture in this, her Mother's and her sister Cordelia's and her home. The blonde haired, green eyed beauty wondered why she didn't react with more enthusiasm whenever he visited. It seemed to her that there was something missing, someone else out there for her.

It was times like this that she wished her dreams were real, particularly one of them concerning a peroxide blond haired, blue eyed man. His hair often stood up in spikes on top of his head, so she found herself nicknaming him "Spike" whenever she dreamed about him. Unlike Riley, who had a Midwestern voice, Spike had a Cockney British voice, which she decided was DEFINITELY more interesting.

As for his kisses, after he fought with her or saved her from the latest attack in her dreams, they drove her insane with wanting more. Her latest dream involved him driving off the beast when he went for her. She collapsed into Spike's arms, grateful and quivering somewhat at his nearness.

"You know I wouldn't let anythin' happen to you, right?" Dream Spike asked her.

She grabbed him and pulled him so tightly to her that she thought he'd break. "I know," she said. They kissed hungrily as he pulled her warm, moist lips into his.

"Your lips…" he breathed softly. "So warm…they taste like honey…"

"Honey! I'm home!" a voice bellowed downstairs, jerking Buffy out of her nap. She went to the wooden railing as she spotted Riley downstairs. Concealing her disappointment at not being able to keep Spike company in her dreams any longer, Buffy walked down the stairs.

Riley grabbed her, spinning her around so that her golden hair whipped around him. "Hey, Buff…did you miss me?" he asked, hugging her. Buffy's mind searched for a suitable reply before Riley spoke again.

"Um, I did, but…" she said lamely.

Riley let go of her, instantly contrite. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done that. You have other things on your mind. How is your mother anyway?"

"They're letting her out of the hospital today," Buffy responded, glad for the distraction from having to be in his arms. "I spoke to her before getting off work. She said the doctors said the surgery went really well, and there should be no more headaches."

"Work!" Riley shouted. "You work too hard! Why doesn't your older sister work?"

Buffy sighed. She'd heard Riley's protests before, and while she couldn't say that everything he said about Cordelia was wrong, the older woman was her sister, and Buffy would defend her.

"She's just not a worker bee like I am," Buffy said. Riley snorted.

"Why?" he challenged. "Because flipping burgers or handling dresses at the shop would damage her fingernails?" He held up Buffy's hands, which were a little calloused.

"She hasn't toiled a day in her life, and you have two jobs…TWO jOBS! It isn't right you had to drop out of college to work," he protested. Buffy angrily glared at him.

"And what would you have me do? Let us all starve?" she flung back. "You know my mother can't work since she went out on disability, and our insurance doesn't begin to cover the hospital and doctor bills!"

"That's what I'm here for!" Riley yelled. "Let me provide for you all, or at least let me contribute something!" Buffy brushed past him and went into the kitchen to check on the stew on top of the stove, along with a smaller pot of chicken broth for her mother.

"You wanna help out?" Buffy said in a low, yet still angry voice. "Then get the bread out of the refrigerator and start setting the table." Riley started to protest, but then dutifully did as he was told. Buffy stirred the stew and then the broth, wishing that her mother was there to keep the peace.

It seemed that whenever she was with Riley, she argued about everything. Her mother was the only glue that held their crumbling relationship together.

She hoped there wouldn't be a setback and that her mother would be with them later.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joyce Summers packed her one suitcase and walked to the door of her soon-to-be-vacant hospital room. She would be so glad to get home, so happy to see her family again.

Oh, Buffy visited regularly with Riley, and Cordelia visited whenever she could, but visiting was not the same as being at home and seeing the three people Joyce loved more than anything together again. As she snapped the case closed and went to get her purse, Doctor Rupert Giles came into her room, his nurse Willow Rosenberg on his heels.

"Ahh, Ms. Summers," he said, smiling, his glasses sliding slightly down his nose. He pushed them back in place. "I see you are totally getting into the swing of things again. Eager to be home again, are we?"

Joyce nodded. Although she liked Doctor Rupert Giles, and loved listening to his crisp, British accent even when he scolded her for not eating all of her food to keep her strength up, she wanted to see Buffy and Cordelia and Riley. The nurse handed him a chart with Joyce's vitals and also a discharge form to Joyce to sign.

The mother of two never realized how young Willow looked; yet, she handled her duties with the experience of decades. Willow's red hair gleamed a little as the moon made its appearance through the open blinds. Joyce fished through her bag, but couldn't find a pen. Willow handed her one as if on cue.

"Thanks," Joyce said, taking the pen from her and signing the documents.

"Here is your copy, Mrs. Summers," Nurse Willow told her.

"Thanks," Joyce said again, looking at Doctor Giles again. Giles slightly blushed under her scrutiny, but then was all business again.

"Did you wish to contact one of your relatives to come collect you?" Giles asked.

"No, I think I'll take my car," Joyce said. "I really don't want to bother Buffy. She's usually pretty tired when she comes home from work. And Cordelia's probably studying. Besides, it's a short distance, and there is a clear sky with a full moon out tonight. I'll be fine."

Giles handed her a list, saying, "Don't forget. I want to see you in two week's time, unless complications from the surgery arise." He handed her a slip of paper with his number on it.

Joyce looked into his eyes and teased, "Why, Doctor…are you in the habit of making house calls?"

Giles didn't miss a trick. "Yes, I sometimes have been known to rise to the occasion for my special patients," he said smoothly. Now it was Joyce's turn to blush, but she hid it a moment later.

"Your prescriptions are on that list, along with other vital things you should and should not do," he said.

"Got it," Joyce told them both. Willow handed Joyce a small first aid kit with bandages and local pain killers.

"I'm thrilled you do," Giles responded as Willow helped Joyce with her coat. "I wish others would be as eager to follow my instructions to the letter."

Joyce handed the pen back to the nurse, then walked out into the hallway. She fished through her purse for car keys and, finding them, headed to the elevator and the parking lot in the basement.

As she drove her Ford Focus up the ramp and into the night, Joyce couldn't help feeling the stirrings of destiny, as though this night was a prelude to a much larger role she would have a part in.

Joyce's car made her ascent out of the basement. When her car was totally gone, two figures emerged from the shadows. One of them growled to the other, his eyes blazing with anger. "You should have let me take her!" he snarled.

"You have no right to complain, my young charge!" the other voice, this one feminine, said, her yellow eyes also glowing. "You already had your meal tonight."

"A mere snack!" the man said derisively. "That girl I took wasn't enough to keep a hummingbird alive, let alone me!"

The smaller woman, a light blonde with an almost elfin face, reached up and caressed his cheek. "That woman's special," the blonde woman said. "My sister said she saw magic energies entwined with her. She could lead us to the Chosen One and your Greatest Enemy in one fell swoop. Can't jeopardize that, now can we?"

"You're right," the man finally agreed. "But when we do kill them both…"

"Then this town will be ours for the devouring!" she finished his thought. The two shared a brief kiss then returned home to consult with the woman's sister.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Joyce continued driving on through the fog that had suddenly sprung up. She tried staring ahead, but couldn't see anything but the faintest of images. She slowed her speed down lest she accidentally strike a fellow motorist. She activated the speaker in her car that was attached to her cell, but only received static.

"Dead zone," she murmured. "Buffy's going to be so worried." Her eyes darted back and forth, hoping to find someplace where maybe, just maybe, she could make a pay phone call. A sign reading "Williamstown" caught her eye. She had never heard of it, but then, this area of California was made up of several small towns not unlike her home Sunnydale.

She turned to the left and drove on for a little longer until she came to a dead end. "Great!" she cried, frustrated. Joyce was about to back up when the fuel indicator on her dashboard flashed, alerting her to its hovering-near-empty condition. She was about to get out and walk when she saw a large house in the distance. It didn't seem too far, and as she got out of her car with her purse, she reasoned that maybe she could ask the owner of the house if she could use his or her phone in exchange for some money.

As she walked closer to the house, which looked like something out of one of those horror pictures she and Buffy often laughed at, another pair watched the goings on with interest in the building Joyce had occupied just about an hour before.

"You sure that is the right house?" Giles asked Willow as she opened her eyes in the hospital room Joyce had been in. It took the redhead a moment to answer; she had been concentrating so intensely.

"I'm sure," she told him. "I timed the fog to come in just as she was starting to pass the exit for Williamstown. That's the only town in the area."

"Yes, and it's a good thing I also thought about negating the cell phone signal so that she would have to stop to use a land line phone," Giles added. "I certainly hope we aren't stretching our powers too much."

"You taught me, and we read the prophecies, right?" Willow asked. "She's supposed to be there at this time. We're just helping, right?" Giles took off his glasses and cleaned them, depositing them back on his face when he was finished.

"I certainly hope so," he said grimly. "Heaven help us all if we overlooked something at this critical juncture." Willow and Giles split up to engage in their duties, but their thoughts were still with Joyce.

XXXXXXXXXX

The one Willow and Giles focused their energies on was making her way through the soft grass. She noticed the fog had lifted significantly. Joyce could see the house and a garage beside it. The red brick house looked less Gothic upon closer inspection, but no more welcoming.

The garage had a motorcycle in it that seemed out of place in what was definitely an older house. In fact, the structure looked like something time had forgotten. The lawn was not mowed, nor did the front entrance have any flowers or even trimmed bushes. It was three stories high with an attic and save for the smoke that she'd noticed peeling out the chimney, there were no other signs of life inside.

Maybe the owner's out, she mentally reasoned. If that was the case, perhaps she could let herself in and make the phone call before she was even noticed. Joyce went around to the side of the house. She saw a window which had an opening large enough for her to crawl through and found herself in a living room which looked like something out of the Victorian era.

There was a round rug over wood floors which, while slightly neglected, still retained the elements of a bygone age. The walls were painted in grey and lacked the homey elements of pictures or posters. There was a small couch which had a throw on it. It was surrounded by four claw nightstands and, on the left table, a rotary phone rested. Joyce could hardly believe her luck. She went over to the phone and picked up the black receiver.

**Thank Heaven!** She thought as she made out a dial tone.

She started to dial her home phone number when the floor gave way. Joyce tumbled down until she ended up on a mattress in a cell with iron bars.

The mother of two was too dazed to scream. She recovered rapidly, feeling her head for any bumps or bruises. Thankfully, there were none. Joyce sat up on the mattress, looking through the bars to see where she'd fallen.

It looked like she had tumbled into a basement. She stood up, jiggling the bars to see if they were a strong set. Her disappointed face told her that they were and that she was locked in, tight. She looked around for any means to escape when she heard a growl.

The growl was followed by a tall figure with orange-yellow eyes in a sallow looking, bumpy face that was one of the most unattractive that she'd seen. Joyce could see that he sported almost inch long canines in a long face with angular cheekbones. His hair was whitish blond, and he wore contemporary clothes: a black t-shirt with black jeans and black boots.

He sported a leather jacket with a high collar which made him look even more fierce. He growled again, his face clearly showing his displeasure. Joyce felt her fear rising inside, but she banked it down, hoping that she could somehow reason with this monster.

"What do you want with me?" Joyce asked. "Did you trap me here? Who are you?"

The creature growled again before speaking in perfect Cockney English. "I'm the las' thing you'll ever see," it said.





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