Buffy's mind went blank. Her legs would not move. She was vaguely aware that Spike had come down the stairs a second behind her. His sharp intake of breath registered in her mind.
"Buffy," Dawn whimpered. It was that sound that snapped Buffy to her senses. She darted forward and onto her knees, shaking Joyce and opening her eyelids, checking for any sign of life she could find.
"Mom," she said urgently, giving Joyce a shake. Buffy heard a slight crack as she did so—Joyce's shoulder had come out of its socket. Buffy froze, horrified.
"Nibblet, call 911," Spike said softly. Dawn scurried to the phone and Buffy heard the sound of the buttons being pressed. Spike kneeled next to her. He looked at Buffy.
"Don't you look at me like that," she said harshly. Spike sighed.
"Pet, she's been dead for a while. CPR wouldn't even help right now. She's—"
"No!"
Spike opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, desperately praying that this was a nightmare from which she would soon wake up. She could hear Dawn's shaky voice in the background on the phone with the responder.
"Yes, I just found her . . . um, yeah, I'm by myself. She looks like she's been… gone awhile." Buffy's heart clenched; her sister was too young to have to be dealing with this. So am I, Buffy thought bitterly.
Buffy got to her feet slowly. She dragged a blanket off the back of the couch and covered Joyce—she refused to think of it as 'the body'—with it. She heard Dawn hang up the phone, and peeking outside she saw an ambulance. It was broad daylight—there was no way she and Spike could be here when the paramedics came in. She looked at Dawn, who understood immediately.
"Go upstairs. They think I'm by myself." Buffy didn't move, too frozen in place to get her legs to cooperate with her. Spike put his arm around her, gently tugging her in the direction of the stairs. Buffy allowed herself to be moved, her eyes welling up as she was half dragged out of the living room. She reached out her hand to squeeze Dawn's as she passed her sister.
Spike got her into the bedroom and shut the door quietly. The sound of the ambulance sirens could be heard outside, and Buffy heard Dawn open the front door to greet them. She clenched her eyes shut. Spike maneuvered them into a sitting position onto the bed, his arm still around her.
"I should be down there helping Dawn. Not hiding in my room."
"Nothing we can do, love," Spike said, softly but firmly. "You can't save everyone."
Down came the tears. Buffy leaned against Spike as she sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder. Spike stroked her hair, holding her to him. He remained silent. Better for her to let it out; she internalized an awful lot. More than people seemed to realize.
A very soft knock came on the door. It creaked open slightly, and Dawn's frightened face peeked through. Buffy looked up at her sister, quickly wiping away her tears. The younger Summers sister entered the room. She was as pale as a vampire and looked stunned, but surprisingly calm.
"The paramedics took Mo—the body," Dawn said, stumbling over her phrasing. "She… she was pronounced dead on the scene. Something about rigor mortis. I called Giles; he's on his way." Spike nodded, getting to his feet. Buffy did the same and wordlessly exited the bedroom. Spike put an arm around Dawn, hugging her to him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he heard her sniffle. He didn't have any words of comfort to offer Dawn; he had lost his own mum, sure, but he was the one who killed her in the first place. He had no idea what Dawn and Buffy were going through right now.
"I just froze. I didn't even know what to do," Dawn whispered, looking completely lost. "I mean, we've talked about CPR in school. But I didn't even think to try that."
"Not your fault, pet," Spike said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. "I don't think there was anything you coulda done to help your mum." Dawn was silent, though Spike could feel her shaking and sniffling.
"Come on, NIbblet. Let's go see about big sis."
Dawn pulled away and made to turn away before stopping to look at him, seeming unsure of herself.
"Do you think Buffy hates me?"
Spike's eyebrows raised in shock. "Why would she hate you, Nibblet? Buffy loves you." Sometimes the elder Summers sister completely baffled him with the way her brain worked, but the fact that she loved her little sister more than anything was the one thing he was absolutely certain of about her.
"Because," Dawn said, "I didn't save Mom." Tears welled in her eyes and she tried to blink them back. Spike put his arms back around her.
"It wasn't your fault." Dawn said nothing. "Hey, look at me," he commanded her. She raised her head up.
"It wasn't your fault," he repeated firmly. "I don't think even Buffy could have saved her, pet. She's been sickly for a while now. It was just her time to go." Spike wasn't sure he believed in fate, but it seemed like the thing to tell Dawn, and perhaps Joyce had always meant to die an early death. "Buffy loves you more than anything, Nibblet. Don't you dare ever doubt it." He held eye contact with her pointedly until she nodded.
"Now come on. I don't want to leave Buffy too long." Dawn nodded and went with him down the stairs, where they saw Buffy standing across the room, away from the windows. Dawn went to her and Buffy wrapped her arms around her little sister. The two embraced without saying anything for several moments, allowing Spike to be a bystander to their grief. A knock came on the door and Dawn went to answer it.
Giles came in, with Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya following trailing behind him. Willow immediately went to the Slayer's side, wordlessly hugging her. Xander followed, although he did not embrace Buffy, which irritated Spike. Tara hugged Dawn, and Anya seemed to have the sense—for once—not to say anything.
Giles approached Buffy, whose eyes welled up with fresh tears. The Watcher held open his arms and Buffy launched herself into him, bursting into sobs again. The older Englishman held Buffy and simply let her cry.
After several minutes of silence, with the exception of Buffy's soft sobs, Buffy sniffled and pulled away from Giles, looking slightly embarrassed at the show of emotion.
"Sorry," she whispered.
Giles offered her a soft smile. "That's quite alright. We're all a bit shocked."
"Should we be . . . I don't know, preparing?" Willow asked, sounding unsure.
"Well, I should think that we would all like a bit of time to grieve before making, erm, preparations," Giles replied, removing his glasses to clean them. "I say we all take some time today to gain our bearings and we can all work it out tomorrow. Alright?" he asked, looking at Buffy. The Slayer nodded, looking grateful. "And there's the matter of the authorities. I expect they'll be calling shortly to discuss things."
"Oh, o-okay," Willow replied, nodding. "That sounds like a smart thing. Um, would you… like us to stay awhile, Buff?" Buffy nodded again. Xander sighed, almost inaudibly, in exasperation, and Spike shot him a glare. Anya nudged him hard in the ribs, giving him a spectacularly dirty look, and Spike found himself appreciative of the ex-demon.
Not thirty seconds later a knock came at the door, announcing the presence of the police officers who had come to investigate. Dawn and Buffy (who was carefully yet nonchalantly avoiding the sunlight that came in through the open door) answered their questions as best they could before the officers gave their condolences and departed.
The gang congregated in the kitchen, all of them temporarily avoiding the living room. Dawn and Tara sat at the counter, where Dawn gently leaned against Tara. Tara smiled a small smile and stroked Dawn's long hair comfortingly. Xander helped himself to the orange juice in the fridge while Buffy put a kettle of water on the stove to make tea. She kept herself busy while the water was heating, putting away dishes and wiping down counters. When the water was boiling she prepared the tea for Giles, who thanked her with a small smile. Buffy sat at the table at last, and immediately wished she had something else to clean.
Spike took the chair next to Buffy wordlessly. Several minutes passed in silence. Finally, it was obvious Dawn could no longer handle the lack of conversation.
"Does anyone want to go around and say something nice about Mom?" she blurted. She immediately looked abashed at the suggestion.
Giles looked at Dawn gently. "Er, well," he stammered, not sure that was a wise idea so soon after Joyce's death—it hadn't even been two hours yet since the girls found her— but not wanting to hurt her even worse than she already was by telling her so.
"I think that's a great idea, Dawnie," Buffy said suddenly, quietly. "Why don't you go first?"
"Um, okay. . ." Dawn paused, thinking hard. Then she lit up, a momentary devilish grin that quickly became just a small smile but brightened the room nonetheless. "Hey Buffy, remember that time Mom caught you smoking?"
Spike turned to stare at Buffy, mouth agape. Prim and proper Slayer, smokin' a fag? He shook his head at the mental image. He noticed that Giles was giving her a similar look.
Buffy looked embarrassed. "I was fifteen, and my friends talked me into it," she attempted to explain, abashed at the looks on their faces. "Mom walked into my room as my girlfriend and I were smoking next to the window. It was my first time ever smoking. Mom caught me as I had just lit the cigarette and by the time she burst through the door and opened her mouth to yell at me, I was coughing up a lung and my face was turning purple." Her friends chuckled at her expense. "Once I could finally breathe again, Mom just kinda laughed at me and said 'Well, will you be trying that again?'" Buffy laughed slightly, smiling at the memory. "Obviously, I said no, and asked if we had anything to get the horrible taste out of my mouth. Mom never even yelled."
"That's what I mean," Dawn said excitedly. "Mom was awesome about that kind of stuff. She never really freaked out about anything. Except when she found out you were the Slayer, but, I mean, that's kinda big," she added to her sister.
"I think I know what you mean," Buffy said, nodding. "She could have written a book on parenting. She was gentle with us, and understanding, and still totally down with smacking a dangerous vampire over the head with an axe," she smirked at Spike.
"Mm hmm. So that's my nice thing," Dawn said.
"I've got a thing," Tara said. She blushed. "She gave me relationship advice once."
Willow stared at her girlfriend, who turned an even deeper shade of crimson.
"Remember that fight we got into a few months ago? That girl who kept hitting on you?"
Willow looked embarrassed. "Yeah, I remember her. That was the night I learned that you do actually have a temper. I can't believe I flirted back."
"I'm over it," Tara said flippantly, with a smirk. "But when I was still mad, I came and had coffee with Joyce. She reminded me of all the times you showed how much you love me, and pointed out that you were miserable because you had hurt me. She made me remember that we don't have a lot of time . . . and we should cherish our loved ones while we can," she said with a sad smile. Dawn sniffled beside her.
"Oh no, I made it sad!" Tara said fretfully. "Does anyone have a happy thing?"
"She could really swing an axe," Spike piped up helpfully. That broke the tension—the original Scoobies grinned at the memory of a master vampire getting his ass handed to him by a middle-aged single mom.
"She always made me feel welcome, even though I am—was—a demon," Anya added. "That was very nice of her. Not everyone was so welcoming." Xander kissed the top of Anya's head.
"Her lasagna was absolutely amazing," Xander said almost dreamily. Giles looked at him, annoyed.
"We're all sharing nice things, things that mean something, and all you have to say is she had good culinary skills?" the Englishman asked, a look of irritation on his features.
"No, no, that's not the only thing," Xander quickly backpedalled. "It's just one of the many great things about Joyce. The woman could cook." Giles rolled his eyes.
"Well, er, I suppose my contribution also pertains to Joyce's parenting skills," Giles said, taking off his glasses and pulled out a handkerchief. "I always admired the way she took care of you girls. We all know your father was not very forthcoming as far as parental responsibility is concerned," he said, scowling darkly. It was common knowledge among the group that the Watcher did not think kind thoughts about Hank Summers. "Your mother handled it admirably. Particularly after discovering the truth about your, er, identity, Buffy." The group nodded.
"She was awesome when my parents were being jerks," Willow recalled. "I would come over to hang out with Buffy and get away from my house and she would give me a mug of hot chocolate and ask if I wanted to talk about it. I vented to her and Buffy for an hour on accident one day," she giggled. "She always knew what to say."
Dawn looked at Buffy. "What's your thing, Buffy?"
Buffy knew, without having to think about it. "Even when I was supposed to be the one saving the world, she was always the one saving me."
A/N: This chapter was both really fun and horribly sad to write- it made me think of my mom. Also, I've noticed I'm kinda bashing Xander in this fic- sorry! Hopefully he'll come around. Thank you for reading- don't forget to review!
