Part XVI - "The power of a mother's love."
As usual during the school term, Joyce was up and about at 5:30, making sure that everything was ready for her children to start the day off right. There was a time, not so long ago, when she had only one child, her daughter Buffy. But not long after moving to this oft-cursed town of Sunnydale, Joyce found herself a second child. The boy wasn't of her womb, but she loved him all the same, if not more. She wasn't sure if that extra amount of love came from knowing that her daughter was head over heels in love with him, and he was sure to be a son-in-law if Buffy had any say in it, or because of the kind of boy Xander was in spite of how sorry his own parents were. She'd always wanted Hank to give her a son, but because of various circumstances that never happened. But, when Xander and Buffy fell in love, she got the son she'd always wanted in him, and in return she gained the love that only a son could give the woman he called 'Mom'.
She hadn't raised him from infancy, like his biological mom did, but in many ways she had. Physically Xander was sixteen, but thanks to the emotional abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his father and mother, he was still a child, scared and wondering why nobody cared, and why mommy and daddy didn't love him. She saw that child the very first day she rose her voice to him. For the life of her, she couldn't remember now what she was upset for, but she did know that it wan't for anything serious, just one of those things that a mother sometimes gets upset about. But when she saw the hurt and fear in his eyes that day, it made her wonder how on Earth a grown man could be scared of a woman that didn't even reach his shoulders. After that day, she was constantly after Buffy to find out why Xander was afraid of her, but Buffy told her that it was Xander's and only Xander's secret to tell. So for two years, Joyce wondered about the hidden pain that only surfaced now and again, until that day six months ago when the source of his pain was laid so awfully bare.
When the phone rang and the Caller ID box displayed "Sunnydale Memorial", Joyce feared that her worst dream had come true, that her daughter had been grievously injured in her duties as the Slayer. But when she heard the frantic voice of her daughter on the other end she was relieved, but that feeling was fleeting once she found out that her second worst fear had come true. Her son was hanging onto life by a thin thread. And what hurt Joyce more, was that there was no demon to slay, or any other supernatural source that her daughter could exact justice from. Because Joyce just realized that the bruises that Xander wore like a badge of courage, came not from patrolling with Buffy, but from the hands of a drunken coward, someone that in another place and another time Xander might have proudly called 'Dad'.
Looking back, Joyce was glad that Buffy was still in too much shock to realize fully who was responsible for Xander's condition, because Joyce knew she'd have had one child in the hospital, and the other in jail for Murder One. Who could have thought that a father could have inflicted such trauma on his own son? But that bastard got his in the end, a long prison term in a jail whose population didn't look too kindly on child abusers. A severe beating would probably be the best that he could hope for. But whatever he got, he'd earned in spades.
Out of motherly habit, she opened the door to Buffy's room to check and see if the bed had even been slept in. Smiling to herself knowingly, she saw that the bed was completely empty and untouched. Of course, Joyce never did have to tell Buffy to make her bed in the six months since Xander moved in. That would require Buffy actually using it. And she hadn't really slept alone since her seventeenth birthday anyway. She supposed that most mothers would have been irate with some of the 'activities' that Buffy and Xander engaged in under her roof. But of course, most mothers didn't see the love that Xander had for Buffy, and her for him, either. She knew that Xander would undergo fourty painful deaths before he harmed one little hair on Buffy's head.
Knowing exactly what she'd see, Joyce nonetheless slowly opened the door to Xander's room, formerly known as the 'guest' room. Once the door was no longer blocking her view, Joyce had to smile. In the middle of the bed, was Xander laying on his back and sprawled out in what Joyced liked to think was typical Xander-fashion. And there as close as a human body could get to another lay her daugher. Her head was tucked up underneath Xander's chin, and her honey blonde hair seemed to flow out in waves over Xander's chest. Surprising enough, she could see both of Xander's AND both of Buffy's hands. Smirking a bit, she scanned the room for any various articles of clothing. No clothes strewn about, must have been a tame night. She had to cover her mouth to stifle the chuckles THAT thought brought about. Buffy's right arm was streached over Xander's body and her hand was entertwined with his. Her left hand seemed to be tucked under her and resting on Xander's right shoulder. And it seemed with every breath he took, even while unconscious, he pulled Buffy closer to him with his left arm.
How could she object to those two sharing the same bed? Not even when her and Hank were having the best of times did she ever look half as content or happy as Buffy and Xander. What the hell, they've been through a lot lately, I'll give them five more minutes. And just as silently as she opened the door, Joyce shut it.
As usual during the school term, Joyce was up and about at 5:30, making sure that everything was ready for her children to start the day off right. There was a time, not so long ago, when she had only one child, her daughter Buffy. But not long after moving to this oft-cursed town of Sunnydale, Joyce found herself a second child. The boy wasn't of her womb, but she loved him all the same, if not more. She wasn't sure if that extra amount of love came from knowing that her daughter was head over heels in love with him, and he was sure to be a son-in-law if Buffy had any say in it, or because of the kind of boy Xander was in spite of how sorry his own parents were. She'd always wanted Hank to give her a son, but because of various circumstances that never happened. But, when Xander and Buffy fell in love, she got the son she'd always wanted in him, and in return she gained the love that only a son could give the woman he called 'Mom'.
She hadn't raised him from infancy, like his biological mom did, but in many ways she had. Physically Xander was sixteen, but thanks to the emotional abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his father and mother, he was still a child, scared and wondering why nobody cared, and why mommy and daddy didn't love him. She saw that child the very first day she rose her voice to him. For the life of her, she couldn't remember now what she was upset for, but she did know that it wan't for anything serious, just one of those things that a mother sometimes gets upset about. But when she saw the hurt and fear in his eyes that day, it made her wonder how on Earth a grown man could be scared of a woman that didn't even reach his shoulders. After that day, she was constantly after Buffy to find out why Xander was afraid of her, but Buffy told her that it was Xander's and only Xander's secret to tell. So for two years, Joyce wondered about the hidden pain that only surfaced now and again, until that day six months ago when the source of his pain was laid so awfully bare.
When the phone rang and the Caller ID box displayed "Sunnydale Memorial", Joyce feared that her worst dream had come true, that her daughter had been grievously injured in her duties as the Slayer. But when she heard the frantic voice of her daughter on the other end she was relieved, but that feeling was fleeting once she found out that her second worst fear had come true. Her son was hanging onto life by a thin thread. And what hurt Joyce more, was that there was no demon to slay, or any other supernatural source that her daughter could exact justice from. Because Joyce just realized that the bruises that Xander wore like a badge of courage, came not from patrolling with Buffy, but from the hands of a drunken coward, someone that in another place and another time Xander might have proudly called 'Dad'.
Looking back, Joyce was glad that Buffy was still in too much shock to realize fully who was responsible for Xander's condition, because Joyce knew she'd have had one child in the hospital, and the other in jail for Murder One. Who could have thought that a father could have inflicted such trauma on his own son? But that bastard got his in the end, a long prison term in a jail whose population didn't look too kindly on child abusers. A severe beating would probably be the best that he could hope for. But whatever he got, he'd earned in spades.
Out of motherly habit, she opened the door to Buffy's room to check and see if the bed had even been slept in. Smiling to herself knowingly, she saw that the bed was completely empty and untouched. Of course, Joyce never did have to tell Buffy to make her bed in the six months since Xander moved in. That would require Buffy actually using it. And she hadn't really slept alone since her seventeenth birthday anyway. She supposed that most mothers would have been irate with some of the 'activities' that Buffy and Xander engaged in under her roof. But of course, most mothers didn't see the love that Xander had for Buffy, and her for him, either. She knew that Xander would undergo fourty painful deaths before he harmed one little hair on Buffy's head.
Knowing exactly what she'd see, Joyce nonetheless slowly opened the door to Xander's room, formerly known as the 'guest' room. Once the door was no longer blocking her view, Joyce had to smile. In the middle of the bed, was Xander laying on his back and sprawled out in what Joyced liked to think was typical Xander-fashion. And there as close as a human body could get to another lay her daugher. Her head was tucked up underneath Xander's chin, and her honey blonde hair seemed to flow out in waves over Xander's chest. Surprising enough, she could see both of Xander's AND both of Buffy's hands. Smirking a bit, she scanned the room for any various articles of clothing. No clothes strewn about, must have been a tame night. She had to cover her mouth to stifle the chuckles THAT thought brought about. Buffy's right arm was streached over Xander's body and her hand was entertwined with his. Her left hand seemed to be tucked under her and resting on Xander's right shoulder. And it seemed with every breath he took, even while unconscious, he pulled Buffy closer to him with his left arm.
How could she object to those two sharing the same bed? Not even when her and Hank were having the best of times did she ever look half as content or happy as Buffy and Xander. What the hell, they've been through a lot lately, I'll give them five more minutes. And just as silently as she opened the door, Joyce shut it.