Author: Lucinda
rating: pg, pg 13
pairing: Joyce/Javier Vachon
fourth in Taste the Forbidden
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Forever Knight.
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Next Level, Paula. Anyone else must ask.
summary: When Joyce is attacked by Darla, Javier Vachon knows that something is wrong.
At first, he didn't quite recognize it when the pain struck. He knew it was pain, like something had ripped into the top of his shoulder, a line of pain that burned and left him feeling cold. But it took him a bit to understand why, to realize where the pain was really coming from.
It was Joyce's pain.
Someone had attacked Joyce, had bitten into her, torn her open and spilled her blood. And he'd felt it, felt it through the link that had been formed by their passion, by her allowing him to taste her, to drink from her. Someone had hurt her, and he'd felt it. There was really only one thing to do in the situation - go to her, make certain that she was well, and then hunt down and kill whoever was responsible.
He was on a flight headed towards to Sunnydale within an hour. Actually, it would take him to Los Angeles, but from there, he could get to Sunnydale easily enough. He would go to her, do his best to help her and comfort her.
He'd told her that Sunnydale was bad. If only she'd been able to move away, but there were the concerns of money. He would have helped her if he'd thought for a single moment that Joyce would have allowed it. But she was a proud and stubborn woman.
The trip was miserable, and upon discovering that there was absolutely no night-flights into Sunnydale available, Vachon sighed, resisted the urge to growl, and walked out, holding firmly the small bag containing a few useful items and a change of clothing. As soon as he was out of eyesight, he took to the air. There was more than one way to travel, and while he might not be able to match speeds with even the slowest commercial aircraft, he could damn well fly faster than a taxi. Onwards to the Mouth of Hell...
The things a guy did when he cared. One of these times, it would get him into a lot of trouble... maybe even killed again. He just hoped that day wasn't tonight.
He was starting to feel shaky by the time he made it to Sunnydale, feeling the aura of the Hellmouth wrapping around him like smothering warm, wet linen. It offered strength, fuelled his strength and his hunger both, and fanned the desire to see whoever had hurt his Joyce ripped to little slivers at his feet. It was a dangerous place. He landed on the roof of the hospital, feeling her inside. Fortunately, there was a door to allow him to slip into the hospital.
Closing his eyes, he paused at the base of the stairs that connected the roof to the top floor of the hospital. He could feel the people on the other side of the fire resistant door, hear the babble of their words, the soft thumping of their heartbeats... and it made his teeth itch, the desire to just sink his teeth in and drink rising up inside of him, strong and dark. It was a combination of the flight and the Hellmouth. He'd best find somewhere that they stored some blood units before he talked to Joyce, help regain his control a little. Granted, the idea made him feel a little bad, those units were supposed to go to injured people. But that would be better, less problematic than snacking on one of those injured people would be.
Eventually, he found a room, and helped himself to three packets, wincing a bit at the chill, the flat taste and the hint of preservatives. But he felt in more control now, and more capable of keeping his teeth to himself. Softly, he made his way towards the feeling of Joyce.
Hearing a conversation about anemia and how someone 'should have known better', he ducked into a closet full of bed sheets and thin blankets. There was a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, walking beside a middle aged man. There was something about her, not only did she look almost familiar somehow, he could feel her, like a humming in his bones. She would be a puzzle, and he had the feeling that it was the sort of puzzle that had teeth. Best stay out of her way until he knew what was going on.
Joyce was just down the hall, and he slipped into her room. She was laying in a hospital bed, dressed in this little thin gown, a tube going into her arm. She looked so pale, and there was a bandage stuck to the side of her neck, right where he'd felt the pain come from. "Joyce... sweet-heart, what happened?"
Her eyes fluttered open, and Joyce looked around the room. "Javier... you're here." She smiled when she looked at him.
In a moment, he was at her side, her hand held in his. Worry gnawed at him as he asked the question. "What happened? All I know is that you were injured..."
"I think... I did something foolish. But she looked... harmless, and she said that she was a friend of Buffy's, so... Her name is Darla, or at least that's the name she used." Joyce looked down at their hands, her cheeks turning a tiny bit pink with embarrassment. "She... She bit me. It hurt, and I thought that she was trying to kill me... There was someone else there, at the end, but... it's all blurry."
"But you're here now, and you're going to recover." He paused, thinking of all the possible problems that could happen if someone else figured out what had happened to her. "What did the doctors think happened to you?"
"They decided that I fell and landed on a barbeque fork." She had this odd little smirk, as if she couldn't quite believe that anyone would buy such a story.
"Mi Amor, do you even own such a utensil?" He couldn't quite keep the amusement from his voice.
Joyce sighed, almost seeming to collapse a little. "No. She... that's what you meant by not everyone is as civilized, isn't it?"
He wrapped his arms around her, gently hugging her close. "It sounds like this Darla is most uncivilized indeed. Would you like me to go kill her for daring to touch you, or should I stay here and hold you?"
"Just hold me for now. I'd rather have you here, where I can feel you, than have someone out looking for that bitch. I want to feel loved." There was a slight dampness forming on his shirt, the only sign of her tears.
He closed his eyes, holding her close, letting her cry silent tears against his shoulder as he rubbed her back. "I'm here for you, querida. You aren't alone."
"Can you stay?" Her voice was soft, and there was a tiny sniffle.
"Until the dawn. Or did you mean in Sunnydale? I don't have any need to hurry back, but I came right here." He chuckled just a little. "I didn't stop to find a place to stay yet. I may end up hiding in the basement for the day."
"When they let me out… can you come to my place? I don't want to be alone. Knowing that she's still out there, not knowing where… it scares me." Her voice was soft, as if she was reluctant to admit to her fear.
"Querida, I would be delighted to stay with you at your home. Most likely, they will release you from the hospital during the day, and I will have to come find you after the sun sets." He caressed the side of her face, wishing that she were not so tired, not so weakened. Wishing that they were alone, in a more suitable surrounding, so that he could remind her that she was beautiful.
Joyce sighed, snuggling against him. "You'll keep me safe."
Holding her, Javier could only hope that things would be so simple.
End part 1.
He did have to retreat to the basement for the day, retreating before the sun's rays entered Joyce's room. She was resting then, sleeping with a small smile, and he gave her a parting kiss before leaving. Of course, the basement of the hospital was… slightly more interesting than other basements would have been, but it was still a basement. Carefully maintained heating equipment, a few storerooms, and a morgue. Granted, that was different than most basements, but it was still… boring. Very boring.
By the time the sun had slipped below the horizon, he knew that Joyce had left the hospital. Her presence was farther away now, but he could still feel her. Joyfully, he left the hospital, his small amount of luggage in hand, and made his way along the streets, searching for Joyce. He could feel her, and knew a direction, but that wasn't quite the same as having a street address, which might not have helped anyhow, considering that he didn't know where things were in this town.
His wanderings brought him to a nice, two-story house on a quiet seeming street. It was a pale color, not quite white, and seemed unremarkable, save for the presence of Joyce inside, save for the lingering scent of fear and fading spilled blood. Walking up to the door, he knocked, politely, hoping that she still wanted his company.
The door opened, and she looked up, cautious, her caution becoming a delighted smile as she saw him. Her arms flew around him, and she hugged him. "I'm so glad that you're here. Come in, come in…"
Stepping inside, he looked around, trying to get a feel for her house, the place she had been trying to make her own. It seemed comfortable, with classical tastes and conservative colors for the walls and furniture, and a variety of wall ornamentation. Currently, there was a trio of paintings that seemed to be going for a pseudo-Grecian classical look, and a small marble sculpture. "It seems like a nice place."
"The living room has a fairly soft couch, but there's a big window. I think you'll just have to stay with me, in my room." Joyce sounded as if a part of her was trying to insist there was something wrong with that, but she wanted him with her anyhow. She didn't sound upset at all, really.
"I came her to see you, to make certain that you were alright, not to find out how comfortable your couch is, Joyce. I was worried about you." He brushed a lock of her hair out of her face, smiling gently.
She smiled, leaning against him with a soft sigh. "Maybe… hmm… maybe we could watch a movie together. I'm… much as a few other ideas seem tempting, I'm not certain when Buffy will be back. She said she'd be home by nine, but…"
"That hour has already come and gone again." Vachon smiled a bit, understanding what she was saying. She didn't want her teenage daughter to walk in on her mother and her mother's lover in a delicate situation. "So, what would you like to see?"
She glanced at the cabinet near the television, sucking just a little of her lower lip under her teeth as she considered. "Well… it's actually a bit silly. Rather sappy, and entirely unrealistic at time, but… It's sort of a guilty pleasure." She pulled the box out, holding it up in a mute appeal.
They ended up curled on the couch, with Joyce leaning back against him, watching 'Gone with the Wind'. He handed her the occasional tissue, and held her snuggled against him, occasionally murmuring in her ear about a few of the outfits that people had really worn during that era. He didn't say anything out loud, but he privately sent a thank you to every saint that he could remember that Joyce wasn't afraid of him after her attack. Eventually, Joyce fell asleep, relaxed against him. Savoring the moment, he just held her in his arms as the movie rewound.
Naturally, the moment couldn't last forever. He heard the front door open and softly close, with almost silent footsteps drawing closer to the living room. Surely this must be her daughter Buffy, home at last.
"Let go of my mother you… Vampire!" The loud shout that emerged from her was quite unexpected, as was the fact that she knew what he was. Of course, the sharp stake in her hand wasn't a very good thing either. Somehow, it wasn't a surprise to realize that this was the girl from the hospital, the one he'd decided was a dangerous puzzle.
Of course, the shouting woke Joyce from her nap, and she jumped, nearly falling from the couch. "Wha… Buffy? What's going on here? Do you know what time it is? Put down that… stick?"
"Mom, get away from him! He's a vampire." Buffy's words carried a curious mix of pleading and threat. It was obvious that her plan was to attack as soon as her mother was out of the immediate line of fire.
"Buffy Anne Summers, you put down that stick right now. I have no idea what you've been doing out for" Joyce paused a moment, glancing at the clock behind her daughter. "Three hours past the time you said you'd be back… and why were you out past midnight on a school night? It's no wonder that you're getting bad grades if you do this all the time. But to then come home and threaten my guest in my house…"
Buffy blinked, taking a small step backwards. "But… mom… he's a vampire!
Vachon smiled just a little, and leaned forward, whispering into Joyce's ear. "She does seem to be stuck on that, doesn't she?"
"Get away from my mother! Stop that… whatever you're doing!" Buffy looked alarmed.
"Put the stake down. This is Javier Vachon, a very good friend of mine, and he's here to make certain that I'm alright. I know that he's a vampire, and I trust him. How did you know, and why were you out until midnight?" Joyce glared at her daughter, leaning against Vachon just a little.
"Now I'm confused." Buffy's words were almost sulky as she lowered the stake, continuing to glare at Vachon.
"Why don't we actually talk about this instead of shouting. And there's no need for threatening with weapons." Joyce sighed, almost sagging back against Vachon after her words. The soft murmur of "I feel too tired for all of this…" shouldn't have carried as well as it did.
"Querida, please, try to calm down. It's not good to stress yourself so after being injured." He settled her against him, trying to make certain that she was comfortable. "I shall hope that your daughter will show some of your own good sense and behave for the moment."
"Charmer." She smiled at him, leaning back with a smile. "Those eyes could be considered an irresistible form of persuasion."
"Oh my God…" Buffy's stunned voice weakened the mood of the moment. "Please tell me that you aren't dating this guy? Please tell me you haven't fallen for some vampire? I mean, I know you split up from Dad, and you could do the whole dating thing again, but… but not him. Please?"
"Buffy!" Joyce looked at her daughter, half glaring even as she blushed a little. "It is not your concern who I might date."
Vachon looked carefully, frowning a little as he caught a scent from her. "Why are you so worried about me and your mother when you've been close to a vampire tonight as well?"
"That's… he's… that's different." Buffy faltered, looking at the pair of them with frantic eyes.
"What are you doing spending time with strange vampires? That Darla vampire almost killed me, and now you're out and about until midnight with some vampire… Buffy…" Joyce sounded shocked and unhappy.
"But that's… I thought… Darla got staked. There was… it was a confusing night, and there was… umm, stuff." Buffy fidgeted awkwardly, as if she'd rather not be having this conversation right now.
"Well, it's a good thing to know that she can not hurt you again, Joyce." He ran his fingers through her hair, offering a small hug.
"So, why were you out until midnight?" Joyce looked at her daughter, refusing to be distracted.
Settling on the couch, Vachon tried to make himself comfortable and less conspicuous. This conversation could be… something. Especially since he was certain that Joyce didn't know about whatever it was that enabled him to feel Buffy's presence.
End part 2.
Buffy glanced at them, her hands twiddling the stake as if it were simply a very short baton. "Well, since you apparently know about vampires being real, and that so does not explain this guy, I guess I can skip the part where they're the nasty bitey people that we don't like? Right? Or maybe I should go into that…"
"There are supposed to be rules for civilized behavior. In most places that aren't over a short trip to hell, those rules are enforced. In places like a Hellmouth… few care for the rules, and most that consider themselves to be civilized avoid these places. What happened to Joyce was wrong, and broke quite a few of those rules for being civilized." Vachon tried to keep his explanation simple, not wanting to go into vampire history or politics just now. He especially hoped to avoid explaining the part where Darla attacking Joyce was wrong because he'd already marked her as his. Somehow, he wasn't certain that either of them would care for that part.
"Civilized vampires… okaayyy…" Buffy shook her head, as if doubting his words. "Doesn't explain how you got here, why you're all cuddly with my mother, or… anything. And how do I know that you follow these rules anyhow?"
"Well, you could accept my word on it, which used to be sufficient, but since I doubt that will be enough, you'll just have to trust in your mother's good sense." Vachon offered a small, ironic smile. There was something nagging at the edge of him memory about her explanation, something that he'd heard once that sounded like it should fit with her own words. "But that does not explain why you have that rather sharp bit of wood."
"Giles never mentioned anything about internal checks on vampires. His version went 'In every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone stands against the vampires and the forces of Darkness, she is the Slayer.' Which kind of sounds like a lousy destiny if you ask me, but… want to take a guess who got to be Chosen?" There was resentment and bitterness in her voice as she spoke.
"Chosen… Slayer? That's… I don't like the sound of that at all." Joyce was shaking a bit, her arms wrapping around herself as she tried to hide under Vachon's arm.
Vachon closed his eyes, considering things carefully. He'd heard stories before, whispers of a girl fighting and killing vampires. Rumors of a girl immune to the power of their eyes, a relentless killer to be avoided. As such girls were most often reputed to dwell over places of great evil and chaos, he'd never encountered any before. "I have heard of such girls before. Normally living over hellmouths or in places where there are considerable problems. But I'd never actually met any of them."
Buffy sighed, and there was a small click as the stake was placed on the little table bearing the lamp. "So… how did you meet my mom anyhow?"
Joyce chuckled, her hand caressing his arm gently. "I bumped into him on an art buying trip."
"Right… why doesn't he look like the artist type to me?" Buffy still sounded wary, but at least she wasn't still trying to be threatening.
"More of a musician actually, but she was on a buying trip. I just happened to bump into this lovely lady at a café…" He smiled, kissing the top of her head lightly.
"So that's what happened when you went to find some stuff for the grand opening…" Buffy shuddered, as if she did not want to think about such things. "So, why are you involved with my mom instead of some vamp-lady?"
Joyce was making a few noises as if she was trying not to laugh. Vachon just smiled, and decided that the less Buffy knew about the details of his relationship with her mother, the happier she would be. "Somehow, I doubt you've spent much time around many female vampires. I wanted someone sweet."
Joyce made a small, pleased sound and snuggled back against him a little more.
"This is just… really wiggy. Good night." Buffy stood up, stake in hand, and retreated, moving up the stairs, presumably towards her room.
"I would go more with exhausting." Joyce sighed, right before yawning. "Oh goodness… Take me to bed?"
"My pleasure, querida. And if there are any other requests that you would make of me… those would also be a pleasure." He smiled, lifting her in his arms. Still smiling, he carried her off to her bed.
She pulled him down beside her, smiling at him. "I like having you around."
"Then I shall stay here with you." Vachon smiled, his eyes flickering golden in the darkness. Leaning forward, he kissed her. "I want you to feel safe and loved… as much as I possibly can without your daughter bursting in on the two of us."
Joyce chuckled a little. "My door has a latch."
It wasn't until later that she was willing to resume her rest, which a doctor would have almost certainly suggested after her attack. Of course, he made certain that she was feeling very loved. And when she finally slept, curled up against him, she seemed to feel very safe indeed.
End Taste the Forbidden 4: Entanglements
rating: pg, pg 13
pairing: Joyce/Javier Vachon
fourth in Taste the Forbidden
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Forever Knight.
Distribution: Twisting the Hellmouth, The Next Level, Paula. Anyone else must ask.
summary: When Joyce is attacked by Darla, Javier Vachon knows that something is wrong.
At first, he didn't quite recognize it when the pain struck. He knew it was pain, like something had ripped into the top of his shoulder, a line of pain that burned and left him feeling cold. But it took him a bit to understand why, to realize where the pain was really coming from.
It was Joyce's pain.
Someone had attacked Joyce, had bitten into her, torn her open and spilled her blood. And he'd felt it, felt it through the link that had been formed by their passion, by her allowing him to taste her, to drink from her. Someone had hurt her, and he'd felt it. There was really only one thing to do in the situation - go to her, make certain that she was well, and then hunt down and kill whoever was responsible.
He was on a flight headed towards to Sunnydale within an hour. Actually, it would take him to Los Angeles, but from there, he could get to Sunnydale easily enough. He would go to her, do his best to help her and comfort her.
He'd told her that Sunnydale was bad. If only she'd been able to move away, but there were the concerns of money. He would have helped her if he'd thought for a single moment that Joyce would have allowed it. But she was a proud and stubborn woman.
The trip was miserable, and upon discovering that there was absolutely no night-flights into Sunnydale available, Vachon sighed, resisted the urge to growl, and walked out, holding firmly the small bag containing a few useful items and a change of clothing. As soon as he was out of eyesight, he took to the air. There was more than one way to travel, and while he might not be able to match speeds with even the slowest commercial aircraft, he could damn well fly faster than a taxi. Onwards to the Mouth of Hell...
The things a guy did when he cared. One of these times, it would get him into a lot of trouble... maybe even killed again. He just hoped that day wasn't tonight.
He was starting to feel shaky by the time he made it to Sunnydale, feeling the aura of the Hellmouth wrapping around him like smothering warm, wet linen. It offered strength, fuelled his strength and his hunger both, and fanned the desire to see whoever had hurt his Joyce ripped to little slivers at his feet. It was a dangerous place. He landed on the roof of the hospital, feeling her inside. Fortunately, there was a door to allow him to slip into the hospital.
Closing his eyes, he paused at the base of the stairs that connected the roof to the top floor of the hospital. He could feel the people on the other side of the fire resistant door, hear the babble of their words, the soft thumping of their heartbeats... and it made his teeth itch, the desire to just sink his teeth in and drink rising up inside of him, strong and dark. It was a combination of the flight and the Hellmouth. He'd best find somewhere that they stored some blood units before he talked to Joyce, help regain his control a little. Granted, the idea made him feel a little bad, those units were supposed to go to injured people. But that would be better, less problematic than snacking on one of those injured people would be.
Eventually, he found a room, and helped himself to three packets, wincing a bit at the chill, the flat taste and the hint of preservatives. But he felt in more control now, and more capable of keeping his teeth to himself. Softly, he made his way towards the feeling of Joyce.
Hearing a conversation about anemia and how someone 'should have known better', he ducked into a closet full of bed sheets and thin blankets. There was a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, walking beside a middle aged man. There was something about her, not only did she look almost familiar somehow, he could feel her, like a humming in his bones. She would be a puzzle, and he had the feeling that it was the sort of puzzle that had teeth. Best stay out of her way until he knew what was going on.
Joyce was just down the hall, and he slipped into her room. She was laying in a hospital bed, dressed in this little thin gown, a tube going into her arm. She looked so pale, and there was a bandage stuck to the side of her neck, right where he'd felt the pain come from. "Joyce... sweet-heart, what happened?"
Her eyes fluttered open, and Joyce looked around the room. "Javier... you're here." She smiled when she looked at him.
In a moment, he was at her side, her hand held in his. Worry gnawed at him as he asked the question. "What happened? All I know is that you were injured..."
"I think... I did something foolish. But she looked... harmless, and she said that she was a friend of Buffy's, so... Her name is Darla, or at least that's the name she used." Joyce looked down at their hands, her cheeks turning a tiny bit pink with embarrassment. "She... She bit me. It hurt, and I thought that she was trying to kill me... There was someone else there, at the end, but... it's all blurry."
"But you're here now, and you're going to recover." He paused, thinking of all the possible problems that could happen if someone else figured out what had happened to her. "What did the doctors think happened to you?"
"They decided that I fell and landed on a barbeque fork." She had this odd little smirk, as if she couldn't quite believe that anyone would buy such a story.
"Mi Amor, do you even own such a utensil?" He couldn't quite keep the amusement from his voice.
Joyce sighed, almost seeming to collapse a little. "No. She... that's what you meant by not everyone is as civilized, isn't it?"
He wrapped his arms around her, gently hugging her close. "It sounds like this Darla is most uncivilized indeed. Would you like me to go kill her for daring to touch you, or should I stay here and hold you?"
"Just hold me for now. I'd rather have you here, where I can feel you, than have someone out looking for that bitch. I want to feel loved." There was a slight dampness forming on his shirt, the only sign of her tears.
He closed his eyes, holding her close, letting her cry silent tears against his shoulder as he rubbed her back. "I'm here for you, querida. You aren't alone."
"Can you stay?" Her voice was soft, and there was a tiny sniffle.
"Until the dawn. Or did you mean in Sunnydale? I don't have any need to hurry back, but I came right here." He chuckled just a little. "I didn't stop to find a place to stay yet. I may end up hiding in the basement for the day."
"When they let me out… can you come to my place? I don't want to be alone. Knowing that she's still out there, not knowing where… it scares me." Her voice was soft, as if she was reluctant to admit to her fear.
"Querida, I would be delighted to stay with you at your home. Most likely, they will release you from the hospital during the day, and I will have to come find you after the sun sets." He caressed the side of her face, wishing that she were not so tired, not so weakened. Wishing that they were alone, in a more suitable surrounding, so that he could remind her that she was beautiful.
Joyce sighed, snuggling against him. "You'll keep me safe."
Holding her, Javier could only hope that things would be so simple.
End part 1.
He did have to retreat to the basement for the day, retreating before the sun's rays entered Joyce's room. She was resting then, sleeping with a small smile, and he gave her a parting kiss before leaving. Of course, the basement of the hospital was… slightly more interesting than other basements would have been, but it was still a basement. Carefully maintained heating equipment, a few storerooms, and a morgue. Granted, that was different than most basements, but it was still… boring. Very boring.
By the time the sun had slipped below the horizon, he knew that Joyce had left the hospital. Her presence was farther away now, but he could still feel her. Joyfully, he left the hospital, his small amount of luggage in hand, and made his way along the streets, searching for Joyce. He could feel her, and knew a direction, but that wasn't quite the same as having a street address, which might not have helped anyhow, considering that he didn't know where things were in this town.
His wanderings brought him to a nice, two-story house on a quiet seeming street. It was a pale color, not quite white, and seemed unremarkable, save for the presence of Joyce inside, save for the lingering scent of fear and fading spilled blood. Walking up to the door, he knocked, politely, hoping that she still wanted his company.
The door opened, and she looked up, cautious, her caution becoming a delighted smile as she saw him. Her arms flew around him, and she hugged him. "I'm so glad that you're here. Come in, come in…"
Stepping inside, he looked around, trying to get a feel for her house, the place she had been trying to make her own. It seemed comfortable, with classical tastes and conservative colors for the walls and furniture, and a variety of wall ornamentation. Currently, there was a trio of paintings that seemed to be going for a pseudo-Grecian classical look, and a small marble sculpture. "It seems like a nice place."
"The living room has a fairly soft couch, but there's a big window. I think you'll just have to stay with me, in my room." Joyce sounded as if a part of her was trying to insist there was something wrong with that, but she wanted him with her anyhow. She didn't sound upset at all, really.
"I came her to see you, to make certain that you were alright, not to find out how comfortable your couch is, Joyce. I was worried about you." He brushed a lock of her hair out of her face, smiling gently.
She smiled, leaning against him with a soft sigh. "Maybe… hmm… maybe we could watch a movie together. I'm… much as a few other ideas seem tempting, I'm not certain when Buffy will be back. She said she'd be home by nine, but…"
"That hour has already come and gone again." Vachon smiled a bit, understanding what she was saying. She didn't want her teenage daughter to walk in on her mother and her mother's lover in a delicate situation. "So, what would you like to see?"
She glanced at the cabinet near the television, sucking just a little of her lower lip under her teeth as she considered. "Well… it's actually a bit silly. Rather sappy, and entirely unrealistic at time, but… It's sort of a guilty pleasure." She pulled the box out, holding it up in a mute appeal.
They ended up curled on the couch, with Joyce leaning back against him, watching 'Gone with the Wind'. He handed her the occasional tissue, and held her snuggled against him, occasionally murmuring in her ear about a few of the outfits that people had really worn during that era. He didn't say anything out loud, but he privately sent a thank you to every saint that he could remember that Joyce wasn't afraid of him after her attack. Eventually, Joyce fell asleep, relaxed against him. Savoring the moment, he just held her in his arms as the movie rewound.
Naturally, the moment couldn't last forever. He heard the front door open and softly close, with almost silent footsteps drawing closer to the living room. Surely this must be her daughter Buffy, home at last.
"Let go of my mother you… Vampire!" The loud shout that emerged from her was quite unexpected, as was the fact that she knew what he was. Of course, the sharp stake in her hand wasn't a very good thing either. Somehow, it wasn't a surprise to realize that this was the girl from the hospital, the one he'd decided was a dangerous puzzle.
Of course, the shouting woke Joyce from her nap, and she jumped, nearly falling from the couch. "Wha… Buffy? What's going on here? Do you know what time it is? Put down that… stick?"
"Mom, get away from him! He's a vampire." Buffy's words carried a curious mix of pleading and threat. It was obvious that her plan was to attack as soon as her mother was out of the immediate line of fire.
"Buffy Anne Summers, you put down that stick right now. I have no idea what you've been doing out for" Joyce paused a moment, glancing at the clock behind her daughter. "Three hours past the time you said you'd be back… and why were you out past midnight on a school night? It's no wonder that you're getting bad grades if you do this all the time. But to then come home and threaten my guest in my house…"
Buffy blinked, taking a small step backwards. "But… mom… he's a vampire!
Vachon smiled just a little, and leaned forward, whispering into Joyce's ear. "She does seem to be stuck on that, doesn't she?"
"Get away from my mother! Stop that… whatever you're doing!" Buffy looked alarmed.
"Put the stake down. This is Javier Vachon, a very good friend of mine, and he's here to make certain that I'm alright. I know that he's a vampire, and I trust him. How did you know, and why were you out until midnight?" Joyce glared at her daughter, leaning against Vachon just a little.
"Now I'm confused." Buffy's words were almost sulky as she lowered the stake, continuing to glare at Vachon.
"Why don't we actually talk about this instead of shouting. And there's no need for threatening with weapons." Joyce sighed, almost sagging back against Vachon after her words. The soft murmur of "I feel too tired for all of this…" shouldn't have carried as well as it did.
"Querida, please, try to calm down. It's not good to stress yourself so after being injured." He settled her against him, trying to make certain that she was comfortable. "I shall hope that your daughter will show some of your own good sense and behave for the moment."
"Charmer." She smiled at him, leaning back with a smile. "Those eyes could be considered an irresistible form of persuasion."
"Oh my God…" Buffy's stunned voice weakened the mood of the moment. "Please tell me that you aren't dating this guy? Please tell me you haven't fallen for some vampire? I mean, I know you split up from Dad, and you could do the whole dating thing again, but… but not him. Please?"
"Buffy!" Joyce looked at her daughter, half glaring even as she blushed a little. "It is not your concern who I might date."
Vachon looked carefully, frowning a little as he caught a scent from her. "Why are you so worried about me and your mother when you've been close to a vampire tonight as well?"
"That's… he's… that's different." Buffy faltered, looking at the pair of them with frantic eyes.
"What are you doing spending time with strange vampires? That Darla vampire almost killed me, and now you're out and about until midnight with some vampire… Buffy…" Joyce sounded shocked and unhappy.
"But that's… I thought… Darla got staked. There was… it was a confusing night, and there was… umm, stuff." Buffy fidgeted awkwardly, as if she'd rather not be having this conversation right now.
"Well, it's a good thing to know that she can not hurt you again, Joyce." He ran his fingers through her hair, offering a small hug.
"So, why were you out until midnight?" Joyce looked at her daughter, refusing to be distracted.
Settling on the couch, Vachon tried to make himself comfortable and less conspicuous. This conversation could be… something. Especially since he was certain that Joyce didn't know about whatever it was that enabled him to feel Buffy's presence.
End part 2.
Buffy glanced at them, her hands twiddling the stake as if it were simply a very short baton. "Well, since you apparently know about vampires being real, and that so does not explain this guy, I guess I can skip the part where they're the nasty bitey people that we don't like? Right? Or maybe I should go into that…"
"There are supposed to be rules for civilized behavior. In most places that aren't over a short trip to hell, those rules are enforced. In places like a Hellmouth… few care for the rules, and most that consider themselves to be civilized avoid these places. What happened to Joyce was wrong, and broke quite a few of those rules for being civilized." Vachon tried to keep his explanation simple, not wanting to go into vampire history or politics just now. He especially hoped to avoid explaining the part where Darla attacking Joyce was wrong because he'd already marked her as his. Somehow, he wasn't certain that either of them would care for that part.
"Civilized vampires… okaayyy…" Buffy shook her head, as if doubting his words. "Doesn't explain how you got here, why you're all cuddly with my mother, or… anything. And how do I know that you follow these rules anyhow?"
"Well, you could accept my word on it, which used to be sufficient, but since I doubt that will be enough, you'll just have to trust in your mother's good sense." Vachon offered a small, ironic smile. There was something nagging at the edge of him memory about her explanation, something that he'd heard once that sounded like it should fit with her own words. "But that does not explain why you have that rather sharp bit of wood."
"Giles never mentioned anything about internal checks on vampires. His version went 'In every generation, there is a Chosen One. She alone stands against the vampires and the forces of Darkness, she is the Slayer.' Which kind of sounds like a lousy destiny if you ask me, but… want to take a guess who got to be Chosen?" There was resentment and bitterness in her voice as she spoke.
"Chosen… Slayer? That's… I don't like the sound of that at all." Joyce was shaking a bit, her arms wrapping around herself as she tried to hide under Vachon's arm.
Vachon closed his eyes, considering things carefully. He'd heard stories before, whispers of a girl fighting and killing vampires. Rumors of a girl immune to the power of their eyes, a relentless killer to be avoided. As such girls were most often reputed to dwell over places of great evil and chaos, he'd never encountered any before. "I have heard of such girls before. Normally living over hellmouths or in places where there are considerable problems. But I'd never actually met any of them."
Buffy sighed, and there was a small click as the stake was placed on the little table bearing the lamp. "So… how did you meet my mom anyhow?"
Joyce chuckled, her hand caressing his arm gently. "I bumped into him on an art buying trip."
"Right… why doesn't he look like the artist type to me?" Buffy still sounded wary, but at least she wasn't still trying to be threatening.
"More of a musician actually, but she was on a buying trip. I just happened to bump into this lovely lady at a café…" He smiled, kissing the top of her head lightly.
"So that's what happened when you went to find some stuff for the grand opening…" Buffy shuddered, as if she did not want to think about such things. "So, why are you involved with my mom instead of some vamp-lady?"
Joyce was making a few noises as if she was trying not to laugh. Vachon just smiled, and decided that the less Buffy knew about the details of his relationship with her mother, the happier she would be. "Somehow, I doubt you've spent much time around many female vampires. I wanted someone sweet."
Joyce made a small, pleased sound and snuggled back against him a little more.
"This is just… really wiggy. Good night." Buffy stood up, stake in hand, and retreated, moving up the stairs, presumably towards her room.
"I would go more with exhausting." Joyce sighed, right before yawning. "Oh goodness… Take me to bed?"
"My pleasure, querida. And if there are any other requests that you would make of me… those would also be a pleasure." He smiled, lifting her in his arms. Still smiling, he carried her off to her bed.
She pulled him down beside her, smiling at him. "I like having you around."
"Then I shall stay here with you." Vachon smiled, his eyes flickering golden in the darkness. Leaning forward, he kissed her. "I want you to feel safe and loved… as much as I possibly can without your daughter bursting in on the two of us."
Joyce chuckled a little. "My door has a latch."
It wasn't until later that she was willing to resume her rest, which a doctor would have almost certainly suggested after her attack. Of course, he made certain that she was feeling very loved. And when she finally slept, curled up against him, she seemed to feel very safe indeed.
End Taste the Forbidden 4: Entanglements