Disclaimer: I don't own Billie Letts' "Where the Heart Is", or Joss
Whedon's "Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What, I can't always have a funny
disclaimer, can I? Am I just here as a clown for your amusement? Let's just
see who's the clown when you're wearing the funny nose and multicolored
wig! Yeah, Bozo, what the fuck are you going to do then?
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.
Author's Notes: Hey people, sorry for the late update. Spring term just started, and I was a little frazzled, but now I feel better. Hope you enjoy this fairly depressing chapter. WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH!!!!!!!!!!
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel. I "borrowed" some of the dialogue here from BTVS's "The Body". Very good, and very sad episode. ____________________________________________________________________________
*
*
*
Chapter Twenty- Goodbye, My Friend
It had taken Buffy a few weeks to decide if she hated her new boss, or not, but after this day, one week after New Year's, she had finally reached her conclusion. Nancy, that poofy-haired, bitchy, smart-assed, goddamned fucking mean whore was evil, and needed to die.
Pounding the dashboard a few times for anger relief, Buffy turned onto Hadley. The only reconsiliation she had was she was almost home. Also, a big plus, Aurora was having a slumber party with Meredith at the Harris house, so it was going to be a margarita night with Joyce. It was really good to be 21.
Buffy was still a little uneasy about Aurora making lives at the Harris home uncomfortable. Cordelia and Sydney had gone home a few days after New Year, and the baby was still adjusting. Knowing how loud Rory and Meredith got when they were playing, and how Holden loved to torment them, it might turn out to be a bad thing. But Xander, who had organized the sleepover and picked up the girls after school, said it was necessary to insure his older daughter and son would keep their mom alone for the day.
She turned onto Revello, and was soon parking her Honda in the driveway. Joyce was already home, her Jeep in its usual spot in the garage.
Buffy jumped out of the car with her purse, slammed shut the car door, and ran up the front steps. She didn't need her keys because Joyce always had the front door unlocked when she was home, something Buffy found very trusting.
Setting her purse down in the entryway, Buffy called out into the space.
"Hey Joyce, you are NOT going to believe what Nancy made me do today!"
There was no answer, so Joyce had to be in the shower. Shrugging her shoulders, Buffy started making her way up the stairs to change out of her work clothes.
Halfway up, she caught something out of the corner of her eye in the living room. She slowly turned.
Joyce was lying on the couch for a nap.
Buffy chuckled to herself. Joyce had simply collapsed on the sofa, not bothering to change out of her white blouse, green skirt, and flat shoes.
"Joyce," Buffy softly called, knowing how much the older woman hated to nap in the daytime.
She walked back down the stairs, ready to gossip with her friend.
But she hadn't moved, even though her eyes were open . . . why hadn't Buffy noticed that?
A little quicker, Buffy came over to Joyce. Something was wrong.
"Joyce? Joyce, Joyce Joyce? JOYCE?" Buffy was shaking her, trying to snap her out of it. Like a rag doll, Joyce's head bounced with every shake. The muscles in her body were limp.
Buffy stepped back, then ran over to the portable phone on the desk in the living room. She almost mis-dialed 9-1-1.
"911 Emergency?" The operator was a woman, but she sounded cold, and far away.
She was shaking now. "Hello? Um . . . my friend is . . . something's wrong with Joyce. She's not moving."
"All right, I'm sending paramedics to your house. Where is it?"
For a second, Buffy couldn't remember. "Um . . . 1630 Revello drive."
"Is she breathing?"
"No," she replied, her voice thin and childlike.
"Did you see the accident?"
"No, I just got home."
"Do you know how to perform CPR?"
Buffy shook her head, as if the operator could see this. Buffy had never learned. No one had ever taken the time to show her.
"All right," began the operator, "I'm going to need you to-"
Following her instructions, Buffy cradled the phone with her shoulder and knelt down beside the couch, adjusting Joyce down. Joyce's skin was like ice.
Her hand shot back up to the phone. "She's cold," Buffy informed the operator.
"The body?"
"No, Joyce! Sh-should I make her warm again?" she asked.
There was a pause on the other line. Something wasn't good.
"You're going to need to wait for the paramedics," the operator instructed slowly.
Slowly pulling the phone away from her ear and bringing it down to her side, Buffy glanced down at Joyce. Her lively eyes were blank, staring off into the distance.
"Are you there?" Buffy could hear the operator's voice in the phone.
This operator definitely wasn't going to help. She needed someone who could.
Turning the phone, she brought it back up to her ear.
"I need to make a phone call," Buffy explained emotionlessly, before hitting the talk button and cutting off whatever the operator was going to say.
The weight of the phone felt alien to her. Buffy struggled to remember the phone number as she dialed it in, very slowly, before putting to her ear.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Sunnydale Library," Spike automatically greeted, leaning against the library main desk as he spoke into the receiver. He glanced down at the Caller ID box in the corner of the phone, and recognized the number. "Whaddya want, luv?" he asked, knowing it was either Joyce or Buffy.
There wasn't a reply, so Spike tried again. "You there?"
Giles came out of the stacks, pushing his stupid cart with him.
"Who is it?" Giles asked his nephew. Spike shrugged, and gave Giles the phone.
"Hello?" Giles spoke into the receiver. His face turned grim as the person on the other line began talking. "Buffy?"
So it was Buffy. *What the hell is going on?* Spike wondered.
Giles suddenly took the phone away, staring at it.
"We have to go to Joyce and Buffy's," Giles explained, growing more worried by the second.
"What is it?" Spike asked, knowing he felt the way his uncle looked.
"I have no idea."
Both ran out of the library, not bothering to lock the door and sprinted to the nearest car. Giles jumped into the driver seat before Spike could protest, so he climbed into the passenger side.
Although Giles was normally a careful driver, he was gunning down the streets of Sunnydale almost thirty miles about the speed limit.
They reached the house within a minute. Both Buffy and Joyce's cars were in the driveway, and the front door was wide open.
As soon as they got into the house, Spike ran upstairs while Giles searched the ground floor.
The rooms were empty as Spike pushed open every door. So, whatever was wrong had to be downstairs.
He ran down the stairs, and was automatically relieved when he saw Buffy standing in the entry way, staring into the living room. But the feeling suddenly came back when he noticed that she was yelling at something in the living room.
"Buffy?" he began as he approached her, but was cut off when Buffy screamed:
"WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO MOVE THE BODY!"
He saw it. Joyce was on the living room floor, spread out like someone had thrown a rag doll to the floor. Giles had been hovering over her, but was now staring at Buffy, his eyes wide.
Giles ran over, and pulled Buffy roughly into a hug, as if to shield her eyes. Spike, however, stood apart from the two, blankly taking in the corpse of Joyce, the woman who had treated him like a son from the moment they met.
It took everything in him not to cry.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Midnight was approaching when Buffy unlocked the front door. She crossed the threshold, and held the door open so Spike could follow. Aurora, fast asleep and wearing the Piglet pajamas Buffy had changed her into earlier, was cradled in his arms.
The funeral had been fine. Throughout her life, Joyce had made a lot of friends, and many of them packed into the church to say goodbye. There had been no official gathering afterwards because Joyce always said they were as depressing as potluck dinners. Most of them ended up gathering at the library afterwards, eating the food Anya had prepared earlier, and comforting one another.
Buffy turned on the hall lights, then removed her coat. She hadn't bothered changing out the clothes she had worn to the funeral, which was just a simple black dress she had found tucked away. Spike still wore his suit, although his tie had disappeared earlier in the day. Without a word, he carried Rory up the stairs to put her to bed.
Absently, Buffy went through the house, turning on lights. She wasn't ready for bed.
How could Joyce be dead? Why hadn't she told anyone about her tumor?
When the doctor at the hospital explained she had died from symptoms relating to her brain cancer remission, Buffy listened in shock. Not once in the three years they lived together had Joyce ever mentioned cancer.
Not one else knew, at least about the remission. A while back, they explained, Joyce learned she had a tumor. It was successfully removed, and she had recovered quickly, but it still was a bad time in her life. The treatments she had received rendered her unable to have children, and that wasn't acceptable to Hank, her former husband, who left her a year later. Talking about that time, in her eyes, victimized her, and she wasn't about to have anyone's pity.
The doctor had gone on later to say that she was scheduled to go in just a few days later for treatment. She had put off treatment in order not to ruin the holidays. She had put it off for her family.
Tears began to form in her eyes, not a rare occurrence after these hectic days. The wonderful woman who had taken the two strangers in without question, who sacrificed herself for others, who treated Aurora like a granddaughter . . . who treated her like a daughter, was gone, and Buffy wasn't give the chance to say goodbye.
Taking a loaf of bread out of the cupboard, Buffy wiped her tears away and went about making a sort of dinner. She hadn't felt like eating all day, and was now starving.
Joining her a few minutes later, Spike headed towards the fridge.
"Bit's in bed," he commented, taking out a jar of mustard, and some olives.
"Thanks."
He helped her assemble a meal of bologna sandwiches, olives, leftover pizza, pudding packs, bananas, gummi bears, and a few hard alcohol drinks.
For a while, they stayed in the living room, watching late night infomercials and eating. At some point, Spike had dozed off; feet propped up on the table as he softly snored.
Buffy had given up trying to pay attention to the TV, and decided to watch him. With his hair all curly and mussed up, his mouth hanging opened, he looked so adorable. Usually, he was all "grrrr" and "sod off", but every once in a while, when no one else was around to comment, he'd drop the façade and be the sweet guy he hid inside. She would see it whenever he tried to comfort her, or if he was with Aurora. God, she couldn't get over how much those two loved each other. Buffy knew that he would do anything for her daughter, and she loved him for that. Maybe that wasn't all . . .
Shaking her head, Buffy got off of the couch. *I'm tired, and I haven't been thinking straight lately,* she justified as she went to the kitchen for a drink of water.
She paused at the kitchen door, spying the computer in the corner of the room. Joyce had mainly used it to file her taxes, or play solitaire, and occasionally Buffy would go online, but that was all the work it got. It usually stayed in the corner, collecting dust.
Joyce had known how much Buffy loved to write, and was always trying to get her to write stuff on the computer. Buffy had always commented that she was too busy.
Suddenly determined, Buffy forgot about the water, turned on the PC, and opened a word processing program.
Her good friend was the only thing on her mind as she wrote, her fingers moving hurriedly over the keyboard. She just started writing stuff, some of it rambling sentences and incoherent passages. Some of it was autobiographical, some complete fiction, but all true to her.
Spike joined her some hours later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He grabbed a chair and sat down beside her. Buffy scooted over so that he could read easier. Occasionally, he'd comment on a paragraph, or offer some grammar corrections.
"This helping?" he asked as some clock in the house chimed five AM.
"Kinda. I'll know someday."
*
*
*
psychovampgurl- OK, we don't have to have clowns, and absolutely no mimes, so how about strippers? You know, spice up the homework protest? I like it anyway. Well, I just wrote a very UST spuffy chapter, which I will post in a while, so we'll at least have that.
Imzadi- Everything's pretty much falling apart, isn't it? Well, we can all hope it turns out. Hopefully, I can finish MRV soon, just as long as life doesn't suck.
Meee- Well, she might someday. Hopefully he'd say yes.
Comedia- Whatever, whatever, I do what I want. *Snap! Snap!* Come and make me do it! I dare you! Munchkin!
Tikigirl- Well, I guess this chapter answers your question. At least the Joyce part. Soon, you'll find out Dru's fate.
Qtefish- Hope this was enough Spuffy to tide you over. For a while. ALIAS ROCKS!
!SNAP!- Get a life. Miss you.
Chrestomanci- Sorry I don't find Starfence as fascinating as you. I guess I like good shows. Whatever. Woot!
FirstAidKid- If this were a perfect world, Spike would have been Aurora's daddy. But sadly, my story is not perfect.
Lurking-in-the-shadows- Angel will fall. Ha! I made a funny.
Celestria16- Thank you very much dear.
Sokkerblondie005- Well, thanks for all the comments. I'm really glad you like this story. However, sorry to say, this will be Spuffy. Me no likey Bangel.
Cali- Thank you very much for the compliments. :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though it is a little sad.
Rating: This will be rated R! Sorry kiddies, but I like using inappropriate language.
Author's Notes: Hey people, sorry for the late update. Spring term just started, and I was a little frazzled, but now I feel better. Hope you enjoy this fairly depressing chapter. WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH!!!!!!!!!!
PS: Death to the WB for canceling Angel. I "borrowed" some of the dialogue here from BTVS's "The Body". Very good, and very sad episode. ____________________________________________________________________________
*
*
*
Chapter Twenty- Goodbye, My Friend
It had taken Buffy a few weeks to decide if she hated her new boss, or not, but after this day, one week after New Year's, she had finally reached her conclusion. Nancy, that poofy-haired, bitchy, smart-assed, goddamned fucking mean whore was evil, and needed to die.
Pounding the dashboard a few times for anger relief, Buffy turned onto Hadley. The only reconsiliation she had was she was almost home. Also, a big plus, Aurora was having a slumber party with Meredith at the Harris house, so it was going to be a margarita night with Joyce. It was really good to be 21.
Buffy was still a little uneasy about Aurora making lives at the Harris home uncomfortable. Cordelia and Sydney had gone home a few days after New Year, and the baby was still adjusting. Knowing how loud Rory and Meredith got when they were playing, and how Holden loved to torment them, it might turn out to be a bad thing. But Xander, who had organized the sleepover and picked up the girls after school, said it was necessary to insure his older daughter and son would keep their mom alone for the day.
She turned onto Revello, and was soon parking her Honda in the driveway. Joyce was already home, her Jeep in its usual spot in the garage.
Buffy jumped out of the car with her purse, slammed shut the car door, and ran up the front steps. She didn't need her keys because Joyce always had the front door unlocked when she was home, something Buffy found very trusting.
Setting her purse down in the entryway, Buffy called out into the space.
"Hey Joyce, you are NOT going to believe what Nancy made me do today!"
There was no answer, so Joyce had to be in the shower. Shrugging her shoulders, Buffy started making her way up the stairs to change out of her work clothes.
Halfway up, she caught something out of the corner of her eye in the living room. She slowly turned.
Joyce was lying on the couch for a nap.
Buffy chuckled to herself. Joyce had simply collapsed on the sofa, not bothering to change out of her white blouse, green skirt, and flat shoes.
"Joyce," Buffy softly called, knowing how much the older woman hated to nap in the daytime.
She walked back down the stairs, ready to gossip with her friend.
But she hadn't moved, even though her eyes were open . . . why hadn't Buffy noticed that?
A little quicker, Buffy came over to Joyce. Something was wrong.
"Joyce? Joyce, Joyce Joyce? JOYCE?" Buffy was shaking her, trying to snap her out of it. Like a rag doll, Joyce's head bounced with every shake. The muscles in her body were limp.
Buffy stepped back, then ran over to the portable phone on the desk in the living room. She almost mis-dialed 9-1-1.
"911 Emergency?" The operator was a woman, but she sounded cold, and far away.
She was shaking now. "Hello? Um . . . my friend is . . . something's wrong with Joyce. She's not moving."
"All right, I'm sending paramedics to your house. Where is it?"
For a second, Buffy couldn't remember. "Um . . . 1630 Revello drive."
"Is she breathing?"
"No," she replied, her voice thin and childlike.
"Did you see the accident?"
"No, I just got home."
"Do you know how to perform CPR?"
Buffy shook her head, as if the operator could see this. Buffy had never learned. No one had ever taken the time to show her.
"All right," began the operator, "I'm going to need you to-"
Following her instructions, Buffy cradled the phone with her shoulder and knelt down beside the couch, adjusting Joyce down. Joyce's skin was like ice.
Her hand shot back up to the phone. "She's cold," Buffy informed the operator.
"The body?"
"No, Joyce! Sh-should I make her warm again?" she asked.
There was a pause on the other line. Something wasn't good.
"You're going to need to wait for the paramedics," the operator instructed slowly.
Slowly pulling the phone away from her ear and bringing it down to her side, Buffy glanced down at Joyce. Her lively eyes were blank, staring off into the distance.
"Are you there?" Buffy could hear the operator's voice in the phone.
This operator definitely wasn't going to help. She needed someone who could.
Turning the phone, she brought it back up to her ear.
"I need to make a phone call," Buffy explained emotionlessly, before hitting the talk button and cutting off whatever the operator was going to say.
The weight of the phone felt alien to her. Buffy struggled to remember the phone number as she dialed it in, very slowly, before putting to her ear.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Sunnydale Library," Spike automatically greeted, leaning against the library main desk as he spoke into the receiver. He glanced down at the Caller ID box in the corner of the phone, and recognized the number. "Whaddya want, luv?" he asked, knowing it was either Joyce or Buffy.
There wasn't a reply, so Spike tried again. "You there?"
Giles came out of the stacks, pushing his stupid cart with him.
"Who is it?" Giles asked his nephew. Spike shrugged, and gave Giles the phone.
"Hello?" Giles spoke into the receiver. His face turned grim as the person on the other line began talking. "Buffy?"
So it was Buffy. *What the hell is going on?* Spike wondered.
Giles suddenly took the phone away, staring at it.
"We have to go to Joyce and Buffy's," Giles explained, growing more worried by the second.
"What is it?" Spike asked, knowing he felt the way his uncle looked.
"I have no idea."
Both ran out of the library, not bothering to lock the door and sprinted to the nearest car. Giles jumped into the driver seat before Spike could protest, so he climbed into the passenger side.
Although Giles was normally a careful driver, he was gunning down the streets of Sunnydale almost thirty miles about the speed limit.
They reached the house within a minute. Both Buffy and Joyce's cars were in the driveway, and the front door was wide open.
As soon as they got into the house, Spike ran upstairs while Giles searched the ground floor.
The rooms were empty as Spike pushed open every door. So, whatever was wrong had to be downstairs.
He ran down the stairs, and was automatically relieved when he saw Buffy standing in the entry way, staring into the living room. But the feeling suddenly came back when he noticed that she was yelling at something in the living room.
"Buffy?" he began as he approached her, but was cut off when Buffy screamed:
"WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO MOVE THE BODY!"
He saw it. Joyce was on the living room floor, spread out like someone had thrown a rag doll to the floor. Giles had been hovering over her, but was now staring at Buffy, his eyes wide.
Giles ran over, and pulled Buffy roughly into a hug, as if to shield her eyes. Spike, however, stood apart from the two, blankly taking in the corpse of Joyce, the woman who had treated him like a son from the moment they met.
It took everything in him not to cry.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Midnight was approaching when Buffy unlocked the front door. She crossed the threshold, and held the door open so Spike could follow. Aurora, fast asleep and wearing the Piglet pajamas Buffy had changed her into earlier, was cradled in his arms.
The funeral had been fine. Throughout her life, Joyce had made a lot of friends, and many of them packed into the church to say goodbye. There had been no official gathering afterwards because Joyce always said they were as depressing as potluck dinners. Most of them ended up gathering at the library afterwards, eating the food Anya had prepared earlier, and comforting one another.
Buffy turned on the hall lights, then removed her coat. She hadn't bothered changing out the clothes she had worn to the funeral, which was just a simple black dress she had found tucked away. Spike still wore his suit, although his tie had disappeared earlier in the day. Without a word, he carried Rory up the stairs to put her to bed.
Absently, Buffy went through the house, turning on lights. She wasn't ready for bed.
How could Joyce be dead? Why hadn't she told anyone about her tumor?
When the doctor at the hospital explained she had died from symptoms relating to her brain cancer remission, Buffy listened in shock. Not once in the three years they lived together had Joyce ever mentioned cancer.
Not one else knew, at least about the remission. A while back, they explained, Joyce learned she had a tumor. It was successfully removed, and she had recovered quickly, but it still was a bad time in her life. The treatments she had received rendered her unable to have children, and that wasn't acceptable to Hank, her former husband, who left her a year later. Talking about that time, in her eyes, victimized her, and she wasn't about to have anyone's pity.
The doctor had gone on later to say that she was scheduled to go in just a few days later for treatment. She had put off treatment in order not to ruin the holidays. She had put it off for her family.
Tears began to form in her eyes, not a rare occurrence after these hectic days. The wonderful woman who had taken the two strangers in without question, who sacrificed herself for others, who treated Aurora like a granddaughter . . . who treated her like a daughter, was gone, and Buffy wasn't give the chance to say goodbye.
Taking a loaf of bread out of the cupboard, Buffy wiped her tears away and went about making a sort of dinner. She hadn't felt like eating all day, and was now starving.
Joining her a few minutes later, Spike headed towards the fridge.
"Bit's in bed," he commented, taking out a jar of mustard, and some olives.
"Thanks."
He helped her assemble a meal of bologna sandwiches, olives, leftover pizza, pudding packs, bananas, gummi bears, and a few hard alcohol drinks.
For a while, they stayed in the living room, watching late night infomercials and eating. At some point, Spike had dozed off; feet propped up on the table as he softly snored.
Buffy had given up trying to pay attention to the TV, and decided to watch him. With his hair all curly and mussed up, his mouth hanging opened, he looked so adorable. Usually, he was all "grrrr" and "sod off", but every once in a while, when no one else was around to comment, he'd drop the façade and be the sweet guy he hid inside. She would see it whenever he tried to comfort her, or if he was with Aurora. God, she couldn't get over how much those two loved each other. Buffy knew that he would do anything for her daughter, and she loved him for that. Maybe that wasn't all . . .
Shaking her head, Buffy got off of the couch. *I'm tired, and I haven't been thinking straight lately,* she justified as she went to the kitchen for a drink of water.
She paused at the kitchen door, spying the computer in the corner of the room. Joyce had mainly used it to file her taxes, or play solitaire, and occasionally Buffy would go online, but that was all the work it got. It usually stayed in the corner, collecting dust.
Joyce had known how much Buffy loved to write, and was always trying to get her to write stuff on the computer. Buffy had always commented that she was too busy.
Suddenly determined, Buffy forgot about the water, turned on the PC, and opened a word processing program.
Her good friend was the only thing on her mind as she wrote, her fingers moving hurriedly over the keyboard. She just started writing stuff, some of it rambling sentences and incoherent passages. Some of it was autobiographical, some complete fiction, but all true to her.
Spike joined her some hours later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He grabbed a chair and sat down beside her. Buffy scooted over so that he could read easier. Occasionally, he'd comment on a paragraph, or offer some grammar corrections.
"This helping?" he asked as some clock in the house chimed five AM.
"Kinda. I'll know someday."
*
*
*
psychovampgurl- OK, we don't have to have clowns, and absolutely no mimes, so how about strippers? You know, spice up the homework protest? I like it anyway. Well, I just wrote a very UST spuffy chapter, which I will post in a while, so we'll at least have that.
Imzadi- Everything's pretty much falling apart, isn't it? Well, we can all hope it turns out. Hopefully, I can finish MRV soon, just as long as life doesn't suck.
Meee- Well, she might someday. Hopefully he'd say yes.
Comedia- Whatever, whatever, I do what I want. *Snap! Snap!* Come and make me do it! I dare you! Munchkin!
Tikigirl- Well, I guess this chapter answers your question. At least the Joyce part. Soon, you'll find out Dru's fate.
Qtefish- Hope this was enough Spuffy to tide you over. For a while. ALIAS ROCKS!
!SNAP!- Get a life. Miss you.
Chrestomanci- Sorry I don't find Starfence as fascinating as you. I guess I like good shows. Whatever. Woot!
FirstAidKid- If this were a perfect world, Spike would have been Aurora's daddy. But sadly, my story is not perfect.
Lurking-in-the-shadows- Angel will fall. Ha! I made a funny.
Celestria16- Thank you very much dear.
Sokkerblondie005- Well, thanks for all the comments. I'm really glad you like this story. However, sorry to say, this will be Spuffy. Me no likey Bangel.
Cali- Thank you very much for the compliments. :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though it is a little sad.
