Joyce nodded her head as Maria Stepford droned on about some sort of heritage club. Something about tracing their ancestry back several centuries… the Mayflower? Mrs. Stepford certainly seemed quite impressed by it, and seemed to think that Joyce should be equally impressed. After all, Maria could trace back through five different ancestors, and she was on several committees…

She was only pretending to care because behind Mrs. Stepford's back, she could see the Stepford girls and Dawn talking. They seemed to be trying to get to know each other, and several times, she caught sight of smiles. Even if it was the empty chatter about television, clothing, and pets, the girls were smiling. She felt that Dawn could use a friend, or several, and if keeping this woman's attention on her for a while let it happen, well, she'd suffered worse.

Finally, Mrs. Stepford left the meeting room, muttering something about her cell-phone and a personal call. Joyce just nodded, noticing that the girls had somehow slipped out of the room earlier. Glancing at Emma, she slumped back in the chair with a sigh. "Do you have to deal with many mothers like her?"

"Yes. Of course, she's worried that I'll treat her little darlings oddly because there are five of them, and all she really wants them to do is get just enough culture and education to marry the sons of a few powerful old families…" Emma shook her head. "There are quite a few mothers and fathers who are very much like her."

"No wonder you indulge so much at home," Joyce mused. Her mind contemplated the wonderful meals prepared by Emma's cooks, the luxurious house, the decadent bathtubs…

"The girls are giving Dawn a tour of the school. I assured them that you wouldn't mind," Emma smiled, clearly amused about something.

"When? I don't recall hearing them mention anything like that. I should have noticed, even if she was going on and on about tracing her family back to the Mayflower…"

"They're telepaths, Joyce. It wasn't out loud," Emma paused, her eyes half lidded. "I'm not actually sure if their mother realizes, but I doubt it. She'd probably be quite dismayed. While she isn't actively campaigning against mutants, she doesn't think they're quite the right sort of people. Undoubtedly, her girls know that."

Joyce nodded, knowing just how good children could be at picking up how their parents felt about things, even when they didn't understand why. "I'd extend an invitation for them to come over and visit Dawn, but I'd feel odd about inviting people into your house. They seem to be getting along nicely."

"Don't worry; I'll be sure to extend the invitation. You've gone above and beyond the call of motherly duty today," Emma moved closer, her hand settling on Joyce's shoulder. "Maria Stepford is quite the social animal. I'd call her a social climber except that she's already fairly close to the top."

"Then she's trying to carve in claims for her daughters then. Each one to marry a respected and wealthy young man and bear a couple perfect children to securely build her a dynasty, and heaven forbid that they ever disagree with her or the husbands that she's planning to choose for them…" Joyce shuddered. "And you have a whole school with parents like that? I'm truly sorry, Emma."

"That's why I have the elegant wardrobe, the vast mansion, and more money that I could ever spend. I make them pay quite a bit for an elite academy for their spawn. Of course, for those who I actually want to bring here, I make certain things are much more manageable. It's just unfortunate that there are so few special students," Emma sighed. "Now, I suggest we retrieve your daughter, invite the girls to visit, and then go home. I hear chocolate calling to us."

Dawn spent the whole car ride back talking about her new friends. Apparently, they had talked about all sorts of things, and had a wonderful lunch. At least one of her girls was happy with the way things were starting with their new life. The Stepford girls would be over the day after tomorrow, officially to help Dawn catch up for her schoolwork.

Joyce found herself hoping that Buffy would adjust as easily.

What none of them knew was that a group of people were currently very concerned with Joyce's older daughter as well. More to the point, they wanted to know where Buffy Summers was now that she was no longer living in Los Angeles, and why she hadn't gone to the Hellmouth as they'd attempted to arrange. Expelled from Hemery High after a case of arson that they'd carefully made certain caused enough outrage and concern to bar her from any other school in L.A., there should have been nothing to interfere with carefully laid plans to force her now-single mother to move them away to a small, less expensive town a few hours north. A town with plenty of real estate for sale, and a school that had already been paid not to ask too many questions.

Now, their careful plans were unraveling. The Slayer had not gone to the Hellmouth. Their agent had assumed when the family had gone to the airport that they would be in Sunnydale shortly, as their house was already sold, but he hadn't bothered to verify if Joyce Summers had contacted a Sunnydale real estate agent. They hadn't even considered that the woman wouldn't follow their expectations. With no relatives and few job connections, they hadn't bothered to look further.

With the Slayer vanished, who would defend the Hellmouth? Without their weapon, what would the Council do?

End part 6.

Dawn had retreated to her room to evaluate her clothing and see what she thought she'd need. Apparently Mindee was quite interested in fashion, having considered being a model or maybe a fashion designer when she was older, and they'd chatted about what was considered 'in' in this area. Of course, Dawn would probably come up with a long list of other things that she'd like to have.

"Don't worry, Joyce. I can afford to buy her just about anything that she'd like without it making a dent in my finances," Emma assured.

"It's going to take a while to get used to you knowing what I'm thinking," Joyce commented, glancing at Emma.

"Does it bother you?" Emma asked, a small wrinkle between her eyebrows. "Sometimes it's very hard not to read somebody."

"Actually, I worry more about you dipping into my girls' heads more than you in mine," Joyce explained. "It feels like an unfair advantage over them."

"I'll try not to look too closely then. But I do try to keep aware for certain things at the school, more of a general overview than looking deeply into anyone's head." Emma leaned one elbow on the table, and looked at Joyce. "I have also found that sometimes, the little darlings at school need someone to keep an eye on them in case of them attempting something they really shouldn't do."

Joyce nodded, thinking that she'd known a few bad eggs in her youth, and there was no reason to think that human nature would change that much in so little time. Of course, she'd feel much better if nobody like that was ever anywhere near either one of her daughters, but that would be too much to hope for. Buffy, with her persistent efforts to be one of the popular crowd, would be in considerable danger of bad influences, especially if the popular crowd had dangerous tastes. After all, the popular crowd in Hank's school had been into muscle cars and street racing, and the in-crowd at Hemery seemed to be into parties…

"And that's why I try to watch out for them, Joyce," Emma's voice was soft, and she reached out to cover Joyce's hand with her own. "I want them to be safe at my school. Some of them don't have anyone else who worries about them, not for themselves, and others need all the help they can get."

"So that they don't end up like we were back in college?" Joyce tried to smile, remembering herself so many years ago. She hadn't realized that life wasn't a game, and that her actions would hold consequences, she'd never imagined herself ending up a mother, moving away from everyone she knew, or trying to hold together a disintegrating relationship. And Emma… she'd wondered if Emma hadn't done half the things that she had simply because it would make her parents angry.

Emma laughed, "I'm quite certain that there were people far worse than we were, Joyce. We just did things with more style… or at least I did. I wanted to make it clear that nobody was pulling my strings anymore, that I would make up my own mind."

"How many things did you get pushed into doing as a sign of that?" Joyce smiled, leaning back in her chair.

"Too many, and looking back, a lot of them were either resulting from conversations with Astrid or my father. Things that I did because my father didn't want me to, or because the only other telepath I knew about thought they were good ideas. If I could start over…" Emma sighed. "Who hasn't said that at least once?"

"I might have found a job," Joyce offered, letting the subject of college and regretted actions fall aside. "There's a gallery, apparently owned by a woman who's got an interest in art, but claims to have no formal art education. She said she wanted to hire someone to manage it for her, and to find and arrange showings for other artists."

"Other? That rather strongly implies that she already knows and has one in mind. What's the catch?" Emma replied.

"Her lover. From the pattern of what she didn't say, I rather got the impression that she assumed I'd find something shocking about the unnamed lover, and that several people have taken that as an excuse to find jobs elsewhere. When her lover has enough works for a showing, her lover gets one, regardless of who else I may have found," Joyce explained. "I said I'd take the proposed contract home to look over the benefits and salary that she's offering and get back to her."

"What do you think about this mysterious lover?" Emma had kicked off her heels, and was rotating one ankle slowly.

"The lover in question is either a woman, married, or a mutant, possibly several of the above. Or maybe the lover is severely scarred. She said something about not being able to make appearances together, and that crowds were a bit of a problem," Joyce explained, thinking back to the woman with her short red hair and her oddly watchful gaze. The woman had seemed particularly polished… "Either she is trying to hide something about the artist who is her lover, or the lover is a cover for stolen goods, and I'd really like to find out before I take the job. If it's just a matter of a lover who falls outside the normal idea of acceptable, then I don't care. If they're selling stolen goods…"

"Where?" Emma straightened, her expression serious again.

Joyce produced a card for the gallery, passing it to Emma. "The woman was very polished, nicely dressed, a lovely redhead, she seemed particularly self confident. I'd almost say she seemed too polished."

Emma stared at the card for several moments, and then smiled. "I think I know who you mean. The gallery… an older building, with fake Grecian columns on the front?"

"Yes," Joyce nodded. "She introduced herself as Misty Adler, does that help?"

Emma chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "Oh, that clears everything up, though I'd never be able to prove it. If Misty Adler's who I think she is, then the artist is her lover. Both of them are mutants, and neither one of them will admit to an age. The person that I'm thinking of wouldn't stoop to selling stolen artwork. If she was going to break the law, it would be for something a good deal more spectacular, and probably involving a body count or at the very least some strong political repercussions."

"That helps. Other than my concern about stolen art, the job sounded quite interesting…" Joyce paused, considering things. Taking the job would make her feel better, she would have a job, have a measure of security and something enjoyable to do with her time. She wouldn't be free-loading off Emma's good will. Not that she was looking forward to trying to find a place to live on her own…

"You don't have to move out. I told you, you can stay as long as you want, so can the girls. If you want to look for a home, you can take your time about that, even if it takes quite a while," Emma reached out, her hand resting over Joyce's. "I like having you around."

Emma was smiling at her, those lovely blue eyes holding no impatience, nothing but honesty and concern. If she truly liked the company, there was no need to try to rush into another home. And she'd heard that the housing market over here was something else entirely, almost obscene at times. Emma was good company, and it was close to the school for her girls… why not stay? Her hand turned so that her palm faced Emma's, and her fingers separated, letting Emma's fall between them. "I like being here."

End part 7.