Abryxis- Thanks for review and I thought I felt my ears burning- calling me dirty names...pfft. hehe. And yeah, School Hard is one of my favorite Joyce eps too. I think in the script it describes both Buffy and Joyce stood there with the axe as 'Thelma and Louise on crack' haha.

g120- Seems sadder with Joyce huh? I'll take that as a compliment on my writing behalf, hehe. And no, twasn't last episode of season- lucky you haha- but this one unfortunately is...but neverfear, for season 6 will soon be here. (Oh yeah...I so missed by calling as a poet) Thanks for review. Oh and btw, your internet gods worked- I got my internet back yesterday- woo and hoo!

Rabidreject- Buffy dead...I know. It was a coin toss between Joyce and Buffy...decided on Buffy coz, well, she's easier to bring back. haha. Thanks for review.

zigpal- Thanks for review and yeah, I'm glad you liked the joyce-willing-to-sacrifice-herself thing. It just seemed...right. And the way you said 'S6 goes with Joyce walking around' made me laugh because I just had like an image of Joyce wandering around Sunnydale aimlessly.

I wish I was stronger

Joyce didn't know what time of the morning it was. But it was still dark outside so she knew it was early. She was sat on the sofa, alone. Everyone else in the house was in bed. Sleeping, able to sleep. She wasn't though. Not at all.

Tomorrow, or was it technically today, was Buffy's...god, she couldn't even think it. But she had to, she had to face facts. The cold, awful, dreadful, terrible facts. Buffy's Funeral. Those two words didn't seem to go, they didn't look right together.

It wasn't even a real funeral. They couldn't tell anyone about it. No one outside their group but the priest was to know. Not even Hank. Hank couldn't know about the death of his own daughter...yet again, for the greater good. Buffy had died for the greater good and now she couldn't even have a proper funeral deserving of her because of it. All because no one could know that Sunnydale was without a Slayer. It seemed as though Buffy's duty didn't even cease beyond the grave.

Joyce returned her attention to the images flickering on the TV screen quietly. It was the one of many home videos she had been playing ever since she got up and set up vigil on the sofa.

"What've you got there Buffy?" TV Hank off camera as little five year old Buffy opened her presents next to the Christmas tree.

"Power Girl!" Buffy exclaimed holding up a themed Barbie doll to the camera before showing it to TV Joyce next to her. "Mommy- look!"

"Oh that's lovely sweetie," Joyce smiled, "And who got you that?"

Buffy peered around comically for the tag, finally finding it and grabbing it with young, chubby hands.

"F-from...Aaant..L..." Buffy seemed to struggle with the name for a moment, before smiling proudly, "From Aunt Lolly"

"Mom?" Joyce heard a familiar voice calling her from the doorway.

"Buffy?" But of course it wasn't and Joyce sighed, though she didn't know why, "Dawn."

"Why are you up?" She asked, walking over to her Mom.

"Couldn't sleep," Joyce forced herself to smile, at least slightly.

"What are you watching?" Dawn asked, reaching the sofa.

"Oh, uh," Joyce hurriedly looked round for the remote. She didn't want Dawn to know what she was watching as she knew it would just upset her even more.

"Home videos?" Too late.

"Yeah...just found them, thought I'd-"

"Can I watch them with you?" Dawn asked suddenly before silence fell on the two of them. The only sound in the room being the cheery voices on the Christmas video.

"Sure, honey," Joyce nodded, patting the seat next to her for Dawn to join her. Dawn sat on the sofa, curling up against her Mom, closing her eyes peacefully for a moment as Joyce put an arm around her. The two of them sat there, watching the home video.

Joyce took her attention away from the screen a moment to look down at Dawn beside her and decided right there and then, more than ever, that she was going to protect her more than she had ever done. She couldn't save Buffy and for that she was going to forever feel guilty, but she wasn't ever going to lose Dawn. Ever.

I wish it had been easier instead of any longer

"Can I get you anything?" Willow asked Dawn in the kitchen the next morning. It was early morning and Willow and Tara had just arrived at Revello Drive ten minutes ago. Anya and Xander had yet to turn up though and while Giles was downstairs milling about aimlessly, Joyce was still upstairs. So Willow and Tara were seeing to Dawn who was sat at the kitchen island in a black dress, looking lost and forlorn as she just gazed down at the fruit bowl in front of her, not really seeing it.

"No thanks," She eventually said.

"You're sure?" Tara checked, "We could get you some juice or-"

"I'm fine." Dawn insisted firmly, her gaze never leaving the fruit bowl.

"Hey," Tara and Willow looked over to see Xander walking into the kitchen with Anya, "How...how...is everyone holding up?"

No one replied.

"Xander cried a lot this morning," Anya informed them all, "It was weird."

"It's a thing that we do," Willow told her, slightly sardonically.

"I cried too," Anya added, "That was even weirder"

"How are you?" Willow asked Xander and ignoring Anya (figuring this to be the saner and safer option).

"Not even sure I'm here actually," Xander admitted, "I mean she always said how Slayers...aren't usually around long, but..."

"You never really believed her?" Willow asked and he shook his head, "Me neither"

"I just saw Giles in the living room," Xander told her, "He's definitely not looking so good. But...I didn't see Joyce, how is she?"

"We haven't seen her since we've been here either," Tara told him, "I think she's still getting ready"

"Right. Of course. Sure," Xander nodded and silence fell on the group again. All that could be heard was the sound Anya's hand moving slightly on the counter. The small sound seemed amplified to an unbearable level.

Silence.

"So, how's the Buffybot comin'?" Xander asked Willow, wanting to talk about anything else.

"Well, I'm sorting the wiring out," Willow told him, "It's nearly sorted...then I just need to get the head back on. That's kinda the big task"

"You think it'll work though?" He asked, "I mean will it fool all the vamps? Make em think-"

"STOP IT!" Dawn suddenly exclaimed, cutting them all off as she stood up abruptly.

"Dawnie-" Tara began but Dawn talked over her.

"How can you talk this way? This is Buffy's Funeral for God's sakes and you're just here talking about a robot! How can you?" Dawn looked disgusted with them, "Can't you just for one minute...god, we're burying my sister today. I can't believe you would..." Trailing off, unable to say anything else, Dawn ran out of the kitchen door onto the back porch.

"I'll go see if she's okay," Tara told them all quietly, before following Dawn, closing the door behind her.

Joyce was sat in front of her vanity mirror. She held her black top in her hand and only wore her camisole with her skirt. Her black shoes lay in a corner, still in their box, unused, unworn. Her make-up was also unopened on the dresser and she hadn't yet picked her hairbrush up once.

"Joyce?" Giles pushed open their bedroom door. "We, uh, i-it's time. We really do have t-to go..." He stopped as he looked at her, "You're, ah, y-you're not dressed"

"No," She said simply, not looking away from the mirror.

"No?"

"No, because if I get dressed than that means I have to go...and if I go then Buffy really is gone and I won't...I can't face that"

"It's hard, I know, but-"

"No, you don't know" She told him, standing up from her seat to look at him, "You can't possibly know. I gave birth to her. I saw her grow up. I saw her go from this little angelic thing to this beautiful young woman and now...and now she's gone and she shouldn't be."

Giles didn't know what to say.

"You shouldn't have held me back," She told him, pursing her lips to keep herself from crying again.

"What?"

"If you hadn't held me back I could have reached them both on time. Then I could have gone instead. That's how it should have been. That's how it always plays out. Daughter buries the Mother, not the other way round. You should have let me go"

"P-perhaps," Giles said, really not feeling strength behind his words, "But-"

"But you didn't," Her voice was steady and lifeless, "What kind of 'higher power' gives a young girl suchstrength' for her to just die that that? So young?" She shook her head, walking away from him momentarily before turning back to look at him, "It isn't right and it isn't fair," Her voice was low and angry, "Not after everything she's...she had been through"

Overcome, she suddenly lost control of her tightly 'controlled' emotions and she burst into tears. He held her, but she didn't stop crying.

I wish I could have stood where you would have been proud. That won't happen now.

"We, we ready to go?" Xander asked, barely keeping his voice from breaking as Joyce and Giles came down the stairs. Dawn was waiting with him and the others and when her eyes fell on her, Joyce thought she never looked more mature, more grown-up.

"We're ready," She told him, but sounded anything but.

"Right," Xander nodded, "I'll drive." He told them, but took Joyce's car keys as the jeep was the only vehicle that had any hope of fitting them all in. It seemed absurd to be going to a funeral in a jeep, no funeral car. Nothing. The coffin wasn't even getting a procession. All because they didn't want anyone, dead or alive, in Sunnydale to know Buffy was gone. Sometimes the Greater Good sucked. Actually, a lot of the time it sucked, but never more so than today.

Silently they filed out, walking out the front door, neither knowing what to say to the other. Xander gave Dawn a brief supportive smile which she returned. She didn't cry. She just walked out after her Mom bravely. She was being brave a lot lately. Only crying when she was alone, not forcing her feelings onto other people. She felt it was the right, selfless thing to do. It's what Buffy would have done.

Xander took Anya's hand, sharing a melancholy smile with her, before the two of them walked out last, after the rest, closing the door behind them.

There's a whole lot of singing that's never gonna be heard. Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow. Think I broke the wings off that little songbird. She's never gonna fly to the top of the world right now.

The service wasn't really something Joyce paid attention to. It was meager and traditional- everything Buffy wasn't. She remembered talking to Buffy about funerals one time, after the death of her uncle. It had been a morbid conversation and Buffy had only been fifteen at the time, but they had fell into it. They'd discussed how depressing funerals naturally were and Buffy had claimed that when she died she wanted one those jazz funerals that dance in bright colors in the streets playing jazz music- celebrating life instead of mourning death. Joyce wished she could have fulfilled that one request of Buffy's. But jazz bands in the street didn't keep things quiet.

She and Giles leaned into one another for support, trying to find comfort in one another but unable to in such tragic and dreadful circumstances.

When the service concluded the entire group were crying whether quietly, loudly, openly, privately, they were all crying. The priest, in his duty, told them he was sorry for their loss but they barely heard him.

Joyce looked at the gravestone. Kept looking. Although it was the strongest reminder that her daughter was cold, lifeless and dead buried underneath the earth, it was the only thing she liked about the entire thing. The service wasn't Buffy, but the gravestone was. It had the usual sweet words BELOVED DAUGHTER AND SISTER. DEVOTED FRIEND. It even had the dates that revealed how young she had been when she was stolen from the world for saving it. 1981-2001. But the part that was so very Buffy- the lighthearted, yet honest part at the bottom. SHE SAVED THE WORLD. A LOT. It sounded as though Buffy were saying it. Saying it in one of her witty comebacks and quips she regularly used to spout out no matter what evil she faced. That was Buffy and so that was the part, the only part, Joyce liked.

"Joyce..." Giles said a little while later as dusk began to settle, "We can't stay here any longer we have to go"

"I don't want to leave her...I don't want to leave her alone," Joyce replied, still looking at the gravestone.

"I know," Giles agreed quietly, understanding exactly what Joyce meant, "But it's getting dark...we have to go..."

She looked down at the earth and then the gravestone one last time before nodding silently and letting Giles lead her away. She hated leaving- she felt as if she were abandoning her there. Leaving her behind. But there was nothing else left to do.

I don't have to answer any of these questions. Don't have no God to teach me no lessons. I come home in the evening, sit in my chair. One night they called me for supper but I never got up. I stayed right there in my chair.

It was a couple of days after the funeral and it still hadn't sunk in. They were all still carrying that little bit of denial around them, the part that said- no Buffy's not dead...she's just gone away for a while, on holiday. She'll back soon. Till then, we'll cope.

Giles had heard the others comment on the fact he hadn't cried- the emotional marathon man strikes again apparently. But he had cried, god how he had cried. Never in front of the others though. Never. He was never one to cry in front of an audience- the only person to have seen him cry was Joyce. Usually at the same time she herself was crying.

It was the middle of the night and she was crying out in her sleep again. She hadn't had a restful sleep since Buffy had...died.

She'd cry and moan fitfully before she would wake up abruptly. It was the same every night.

Ever since Buffy had passed away Joyce had been going over the same thoughts in her mind before she fell asleep. She couldn't help it. They preyed on her, hanging there, waiting for her to acknowledge them. Buffy had told her once that she had died already, before Joyce knew she was Slayer. That had hurt so much, the thought that her daughter could have died without her knowing why or how. What would have been the explanation given if they had brought her body home? Sorry, she got hit by a truck? Or would they have tried to explain the truth? In a way, the truth was harder, the reality was fiercer and this truth, this reality right now was more pain than she could bear. And this came through in the recurring nightmare she was having. Always the same. A graveyard. A fairground. A graveyard. Then she'd walk around the fairground and behind the Ferris Wheel there she would find mangled, beaten, corpse of Buffy, staring up at her with unseeing eyes. And it was this sight that always caused her to spring awake in a cold sweat.

"Joyce!" Giles called as she awoke, panicking, yet again. He grabbed her arms, "Joyce, Joyce- it's okay. It's just a nightmare"

"No, no it's not," She shook her head, crying, "It's not- we did leave her there. And...oh God, she's gone Rupert, she's really gone."

And yet again, he held her as she sobbed.

The next night Joyce was sat on the sofa, Giles in the chair, Dawn upstairs choosing to be alone, when Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara arrived...with the Buffybot.

When Joyce saw it walk in, a bright cheery smile on it's face, she wanted to throw up. It was another nail in the denial coffin. This was keeping Buffy alive. It looked so real. It wore Buffy's clothes, Buffy's smile and held Buffy's stake.

"Well...she's all finished," Willow announced feebly and the Buffybot smiled at everyone.

"Hello!" She waved, looking at them all with innocent interest, "Are we ready to patrol?"

"Y-yes," Giles nodded, obviously as thrown back by this sight as Joyce. "Yes, I'll just...my coat, I, uh-"

"You're going on patrol?" Joyce asked, "All of you?"

"Yeah," Xander admitted, "We can't really let the Buffybot out on her own. She could mess up"

"But I thought that was the whole point of fixing her," Joyce countered, standing up to face the group, "Buffy...bot patrols and you're all safe not patrolling."

"Well, the bot will help," Willow told her, "But we still need to be out there"

Joyce didn't reply to Willow but instead turned to look at Giles.

"Rupert, you can't seriously be considering going out on patrol. It's too dangerous," She gestured at the group, "They could get hurt, you can't possibly let them-"

"We have to keep Sunnydale safe, Joyce," He told her kindly, but she was having none of it.

"Why? Why do we?" She looked at the group, "Who says any of you have to? Really?"

No one replied.

"People get hurt when they do this," Joyce continued, "You can't continue with this. Rupert, you can't really expect I'd let any of you...after what happened-"

"Joyce, if we don't- then everyone in Sunnydale is in danger," Giles told her and she seemed to choose not to reply as she stormed past them all in the direction of the stairs. Before she started to walk up them she turned back to the group for a final word.

"Fine, go, go if you think you have to. But you don't. Buffy's dead," The words were out there and they came out harsher than Joyce intended, but she forced herself to continue, "And this 'patrolling' should die with it"

And she stormed up the stairs away from them all, leaving her words and their implications hanging in the air between the group.

"Time to slay," Buffybot looked at them all as though asking 'so why aren't we going...?'

Cause everyone is singing, we just want to be heard. Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow. Wanna grab a hold of that little songbird and take her for a ride to the top of the world.

It was hours later when they all returned and they found Joyce sat in the dining room, Dawn presumably still upstairs in her room. She looked up when they came in and saw the several cut on Giles' forehead, the bruise on Willow's wrist and the ripped shirt that Xander was wearing. Only the Buffybot and Anya seemed okay.

Xander really thought they were in for an I-told-you-so lecture but instead, Joyce looked at them all silently, before walking off into the kitchen.

Giles looked at the others briefly before immediately following.

"Joyce, are-"

"Am I okay?" Joyce cut him off, spinning around to face him across the kitchen, "What a question. How can I be okay? I mean I guess another funeral wouldn't be too much of a hassle anymore. Practically an ol' hound dog at it now."

"Pardon?" Giles asked with a frown and as he paid attention to Joyce he didn't realize the rest of the group had followed and were hovering in the kitchen doorway watching them.

"You all come back here looking like..." Joyce stopped bit sentence, sighing in grieved frustration, "We bury Buffy just two days ago and you take her friends out tonight to get them killed as well!"

"I didn't, we, uh-" Giles struggled to defend himself.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want them all to get hurt? Keep them patrolling till they're killed off one by one? It is bad enough that living in Sunnydale is dangerous enough, but going out at night like this, patrolling with them...you are making it way too easy for them to get hurt- you are letting them walk right into it!"

She looked past Giles, to see the group there watching them like wide-eyed children. And then she saw the Buffybot stood behind them looking cluelessly interested at what was going on. The sight of 'Buffy' made it so much worse. She abruptly turned away from the sight, nearly walking into the fridge which she saw bore, along with several other photos, a snapshot from a couple of years ago of herself and Buffy.

"I just can't handle this anymore. I just want it to go away," She said in a quieter voice, before turning to look at them all, "I don't want to lose any of you. I can't lose any of you." She slid down into one of the stools at the island, dropping her head into her hands, "I can't carry on like this anymore. I can't bear it"

She felt something in her hands and she looked to see that unconsciously she had taken the photo off the fridge and was holding it tightly in her left hand. Buffy's seventeen year old face smiling back at her.

But she's never gonna fly to the top of the world.

Top of the world.