Broken Arrow
by Rob Morris

LATE AUGUST, 1998

The other one was back where she belonged, but Joyce could not rest
easy as she went through her own front door for the first time in months.

"Dear Buffy. Please come home. Your mother has an insane twin sister who
is even fonder of stupid ultimatums than her."

For the second time in her life, Jane had managed to pull the life-switch off, and now Joyce's own life was in ruins as a result.

*I should have told Buffy that I knew.*

Too many weird events. Too many dismissive statements from that toad,
Snyder, and the see-naught police. Too much talk she wasn't supposed to
overhear. Joyce knew she could be flaky at times, but she wasn't an idiot.

Knowing that she needed to calm down and quickly, Joyce placed a call to Pat from the Book Club. Never the brightest bulb among her friends, Pat was still an ear willing to listen - until she started talking herself. Joyce reminded herself she had no one in town who knew the secret - The Secret.

She then called her voice-mail service, and played back a ridiculous amount of messages.

"Jane, you took over my life. But you never bothered to check my voice-mail?"

Some of her clients would probably never speak to her again. What the hell had that psycho been doing all these months, she thought? Baking cookies?

"Calm, Joyce. At least Jane was as predictable as ever. Coming back to taunt you. With full exposition, no less."

That had been her twin's undoing. Though Joyce was bound and sedated as the imposturous Jane went on, she was watched and recorded by security cameras.

"Idiot."

But just who was the idiot, she thought? This wasn't the first time Jane had pulled this. Was it guilt that made Joyce do a personal bed-check? Sometimes, Joyce honestly wished that her parents had only adopted one twin, even if it had meant spending her own childhood at an orphanage. Dim as Hank could be, he hadn't deserved to find out the woman he first married wasn't the one he'd wanted to.

"Then again, he COULD have figured it out earlier than our first month anniversary."

Had that break in their marriage so early on planted the seeds of its final dissolution, years later? Or was it the secrets? The secrets she'd kept from Buffy. The secret that Buffy, in turn, had kept from her. She would have to let her have it, when the time came. The mother's bad habit could not be allowed in the daughter.

But now, came news of the son. The message was from someone hatefully familiar.

*Mrs. Summers? This is Jody Choate, the attorney representing the Harrises. It's their feeling that Xander has been spending entirely too much time at your house, and that this may construe an attempt on your part to backhandedly violate the custody agreement. My advice is that
you do not. An ugly can of worms regarding child abuse and endangerment could easily be opened. Please be smart about this.*

The phone went flying across the room at this, smashing into a million pieces. She could hear Snyder's words from months ago.

*I'm seeing a mother-daughter resemblance.*

Joyce was now fuming.

"Damned Straight."

She ran upstairs, and used her skeleton key on Buffy's footlocker. She quickly found something worthwhile, including the explanatory note attached to it.

"Remember, Buffy-the Bludgeon Infinite cannot actually cause death. It is by mystic means only useful as an instrument of-"

Joyce grinned.

"Torture."

Clad entirely in black from head to toe in her exercise suit and a stocking, she entered a neighborhood the police were not afraid of, but preferred to avoid for all the domestic disturbance calls. Particularly the ones from the targeted house. The bike she used was an old rusty one, its serial numbers all worn. Avoiding the graveyards and any passersby at all, Joyce went unseen in a town that usually preferred not to see, anyway.

"60's student activism means that I know how to check for unlocked windows."

But it wasn't the 60's anymore, her stealth wasn't what it had been, and a pair of beefy, greasy hands grabbed at her as she entered.

"Wot the hell ya think yer doin?"

A kick to the knee knocked George Harris back, and the Bludgeon Infinite struck hard at his crotch-from underneath. He yelped in pain, and Joyce couldn't resist a disguised jibe.

"Hey! Youse scream like a girl!"

One of 'George Horace's' favorite taunts at Hank Summers, back when. From all the old fights, Joyce knew what would come next.

"Waddaraya doin' ta him?"

Louise Harris' concern was, Joyce felt, more proprietary than compassionate. The two drunks held each other in greater contempt than perhaps anyone else. The Bludgeon took the jagged bottle from Louise's hand, then smashed her straight in the mouth. She whispered under her
breath.

"What's the matter, Louise? No gang to back you up? This isn't Antedale High, bitch."

As George tried to grab at her again, one arm and then the other felt the bludgeon strike them. Knees, elbows, ankles and spines were next. No breaks-this had to look like maybe they had done it to one another. But Joyce got very creative, swinging her weapon at will until the thieves
who stole her son were helpless. Ditching the bludgeon temporarily, she placed them on their stomachs side by side, slamming their faces into the floor a few times. She then added the piece de resistance. Again she used her garbled voice.

"Dat lawyer o'yours, Choate. He owes my boss real money. Ya might wanna avoid him, here on out."

One more set of face-slams, and she finished. Xander might return from 'patrols' at any time.

"Dis here was all business. Nothin' personal."

Except that Joyce felt very nearly orgasmic. Was this maybe why Buffy never listened to her? Was going out and punishing evil this way that much of a kick?

The attacker withdrew with her weapon, the yells from the Harris household not even drawing the slightest bit of interest relative to some nights. Joyce found her bike, got home, then disassembled the old wreck for large trash day the next morning. The mystic bludgeon showed
no signs of wear and tear, and had left no residue.

"Like Hell it wasn't personal."

Joyce slept well that night, and dreamed of her family as it might have been, without thieves and magic screwing it all up.

Over the course of the following week, Joyce got even more satisfaction. Telling off the secretive Rupert Giles helped. A news report that had Attorney Jody Choate investigated and under threat of disbarment-perhaps prompted by the Harrises-gave her another boost. If
only Buffy would return, she could complete her victory. For she had decided that it was time to screw old fears and tell Xander a very big secret. She asked him over under false pretenses.

"No word, then?"

Xander shook his head.

"No. I don't know what I'd do if there was, though. Mrs. Summers-I've got some things to say to your daughter about what she pulled."

She sat him down. Best to let Xander vent before laying such a heavy burden on him.

"What do you mean?"

"I know-I know she's your daughter. I know she's not my girlfriend, and that she's never gonna be, that one incident aside."

Joyce's blood pressure rocketed.

"What-incident-dear?"

Xander blushed.

"I kind of cast - or had someone cast-a misfiring love spell on Cordelia. All the wom-that
is, a bunch of girls at the High School started acting all-hot for me. Buffy really went-wild."

*Oh-Dear-God. No.*

"How wild are we talking, Xander?"

Perhaps unsure why he was being so honest with this woman, Xander gave in. Thankfully, at least at this time, Joyce had no memories of her own activities that night.

"She tried to-with me. But I stopped her. If I couldn't make her want me honestly-I didn't want it to happen. Mostly."

Xander expected to be punched. He didn't expect to be hugged.

"You-are a fundamentally decent young man."

Xander's eyes did a few dozen side-takes at this.

"Ho-kay. Besides her not wanting me that way, we would have prolly drifted apart after she went to college."

Joyce tried to build for the big revelation.

"Maybe you can go to college together."

Xander held up a bankbook, lifted from his jacket.

"Never gonna happen. I don't know how my folks found out about it, but I had some money stashed aside in this account. With financial aid, a job or two, maybe a loan-I could have made it. But after they beat each other up last week -masked intruder, yah- they spent it all on their medical bills. And, of course to replenish all their vital booze. Mrs. Summers-did you have something to tell me?"

Joyce now felt sick to her stomach, all victories ashes in her mouth. She could still send her son to college. Even the distant Hank would surely kick in, once Xander was part of their family again. But the bludgeon was now backfiring on her. If she broke the cursed silence, would these ugly vile people even kill Xander, as they had killed his possible future? She realized she could not take that chance. Her actions were already responsible for too much.

"Here's a spare key, Xander. If you find Buffy, bring her straight home, I don't care what time of day or night it is."

Xander nodded as he got up to leave.

"It's so weird. I hate her for leaving. It's like this whole déjà vu thing, ya know?"

Joyce knew. For an hour more, she sat and stewed in an ugly mood. She would need an outlet for this helpless rage, and she knew from experience it likely wouldn't be the best possible target, simply the most convenient. There came a knock on the door. Joyce opened it.

"Mom?"

A Mommy who wasn't perfect would show it in the days to come, in the worst possible way, all starting from the best of intentions.