The next morning, Joyce went to check on Buffy. Last night had been a bit more emotional than she would have preferred, and it would be nice to know how Buffy was handling things.
Standing at the closed door, she tapped the wood and called, "Buffy? Are you awake?"
"If I say no, can I stay in bed and not go to school?"
Joyce sighed, not surprised by Buffy's comment. "You forget, I know how you sound when you're really asleep. It isn't coherent."
"Nnnggh." There was a soft noise, and a mild thud. "You might as well come inside."
"I'm not going to make you go to school today if you don't feel up to it," Joyce opened the door. Her daughter was sitting at the head of the bed, the raspberry pink comforter wrapped around her making her look so very young and vulnerable. She didn't look old enough to know that there were monsters, let alone to be sent out to fight them.
"School bites," Buffy frowned, "Well, not like vampires. But it isn't any fun, and I'd rather stay home."
"I'll call you in sick today. Last night was probably a lot for you to take in. I know how much you were always Hank's little princess." Joyce shook her head, walking across the floor and wincing at the scattering of shoes and boots falling out of the closet. She settled on the edge of the bed, close enough that she could touch Buffy, but leaving that choice to her daughter.
"I know that Emma told you we don't intend to leave you on your own to deal with all of this. With the Watchers, with the monsters. But Buffy…" Joyce paused, considering how to phrase her problem. "We need more information. Do you think that you could make a list of everything you know about these people? Maybe exactly how they concluded that you were the Chosen One, and what they look for? What you know about the monsters and how to kill them. We can't help you if we don't have the information."
"Nothing about grammar, or sentence fragments? I don't have to put in citations and the right format of references?" Buffy sounded almost hopeful.
"We don't need MLA citations for the basics of these Watchers or how to fight demons," Joyce shook her head. If this weren't so serious, if it wasn't a matter of her daughter's future and her potential death, she'd be snickering at the idea of citations for demon hunting.
"Okay," Buffy managed a little smile. The smile then collapsed and she didn't quite wail, "Why her?"
"Emma and I have been friends for a long time. She's always given me credit for thinking and having a bit of sense, which is more than I could say for some other people. She's intelligent, attractive, and she can make me smile. We were good friends who had fun together in college. What else should I look for?" Joyce paused, a smile creeping onto her face as she considered Emma. "Right now, we're dating. It might be that we decide we aren't meant to be more than good friends. It might be that we decide that we're really good together. It's a bit early to know, and discovering that is the whole point of dating."
"Huh," Buffy sighed, shaking her head.
"Buffy, you're my daughter, and I love you. I will always love you and Dawn. That's what it means to be a mother. No matter what happens, no matter who I date, I will always love you and want you to be safe," leaning over, she gave her daughter a hug.
"Including from British stalker guys in ugly suits?" Buffy managed a weak smile that didn't fool Joyce for a moment.
"As much as possible, yes. If there is something to this destiny, then we're willing to talk to them if they're reasonable. Reasonable means that they give you a bit of respect, including privacy. It means they talk with us and we make decisions, not they say jump, you say how high, and we say nothing."
"What if they won't be reasonable?" Buffy whispered.
Joyce shook her head, and patted Buffy's back, "Then we get rid of them. Emma said she can find some people to help you train, and some people to help you hunt for dangerous demons. You'll have plenty of good weapons and Emma ordered some armor. I can't keep you completely safe, no matter how appealing the idea is, but we can make you safer when you hunt monsters."
* * * * * * * * *
Cassandra Evans sighed as she opened another folder. The Council had lost the Slayer. Travers was having a royal hissy fit, stomping and shouting and blustering, swearing dire pain and suffering on whoever turned out to be responsible for this situation. She found his reaction childish and a bit amusing, though she would never say so to his face. That would be a very bad thing for her continued career, if not her life. Travers was a politician, and ruthless when he felt it needed.
The Slayer's parents had divorced, with her father remaining in Los Angeles. In fact, Hank Summers had moved into an apartment with one of his co-workers, one that on-site observation had pegged as his current lover, though there might have been – or also be – something with a young waitress at a nearby restaurant. No, he wasn't going to have any further control over his daughters, not the Slayer or the younger child, nor over his ex-wife, though she suspected that there would be some sort of alimony or child support mandated by the courts.
Travers had decreed that the Slayer should relocate to Sunnydale, California, a small town that held the only known active Hellmouth. By his orders, certain arrangements had been made, tampering with school records, whispered rumors and insinuations, and a few other bits of finagling, all intended to make it look as if Sunnydale was the newly divorced mother's only option, the only place that would accept a juvenile delinquent daughter who had burned down part of her last school. Having read the reports from the junior Watcher who hadn't been brave enough to make himself known to the Slayer, Cassandra had to admire the logic of the Slayer's approach – the building was full of vampires and a few people that the vampires had already killed, she couldn't kill them all by combat, so she burned it to the ground. Effective, if a bit destructive. Hardly the makings of a true juvenile delinquent.
But they weren't in Sunnydale. The same junior Watcher that hadn't been brave enough to talk to the Slayer in Los Angeles had observed them go to the airport, and assumed that they would fall in line with The Plan. He had believed in Travers' overconfidence, bought the man's propaganda. And now the one Watcher that had been sent to Sunnydale reported no Slayer, and the three additional Watchers sent to scour the small city and 'find her since she must be there!' had concluded that there was absolutely no Slayer, no Buffy Summers, no anybody Summers.
Watchers were panicking. It was absurd, and stupid, and just a bit amusing.
Cassandra was certain that the key to finding where the Slayer was now was in her mother's past. Something in the past of Joyce Aurora Hike who had married Hank Beauford Summers would be the key to finding where she had gone, where she had taken her two daughters, where the Slayer was right now.
It wasn't her parents, older brother, or her two sisters. The brother was in the military, currently stationed in Texas. The first sister, Constance, was an active member of a small farming and organic foods community in California, and there was a Watcher nearby monitoring a seven year old girl that might be a Potential. He'd reported that there were no new residents, and the only recent visitor of more than a few hours was an old man who seemed to be the father of their beekeeper. One sister had married and lived in Las Vegas, and reports were that Joyce did not get along with patience, called Patty, at all – something about a boyfriend in high school, and another in Joyce's first year of college. That might have had something to do with Joyce transferring to a different college…
If Joyce wasn't with her family, then maybe she'd sought help from a friend she'd met at college. Which meant that she needed to start looking through the woman's history to pick out friends that she'd stayed in contact with, and where they were now. Then it would be easy to have someone check in that area for the recent arrival of the three Summers ladies.
She hoped that whoever Joyce had asked for help was understanding. Knowing a Slayer was never easy, and being a mother was never easy – being the mother to a Slayer had to be a dreadful mess. She also hoped that they could arrange for a decent Watcher to start working with Buffy before it was too late, and the Council had to find the next Slayer.
End part 24.
Buffy spent most of Friday in a combination of writing out what she knew about the Watchers and the most likely demons and sulking about her mother dating Emma Frost. Buffy would insist that most of her time was spent writing, that she was almost sixteen and didn't sulk like a little kid. Saturday morning had a strange short man show up, with iron grey hair, pale eyes, and a large trunk. The trunk contained a full assortment of measuring and fitting items, as well as a variety of armored materials.
Buffy wasn't quite certain what to think about this. Ms. Frost had said that she'd get her some armor, but Buffy hadn't expected this soon, or having someone who was 'some weird armor tailor guy' measuring everything, asking about her range of motion and her normal wardrobe. She noticed that the one thing he didn't pull out to drape over her, half covered in the bottom of his trunk, looked like a shimmering silver sequin fabric.
When he was talking to Ms. Frost, Buffy knelt down to take a closer look, wondering what possible kind of armor something covered with sequins could possibly provide. Except that instead of being something covered in sequins, it was a fine chain mail, with links that she could cover with the tip of her pinky.
That brought home to her just how serious Ms. Frost was about this entire situation. It also made her feel just a tiny bit better about her mom and the dating thing was going on with Ms. Frost. Even someone with scads of money wouldn't shell out the kind of money to get several sets of armor hand made by this guy for the daughter of someone who was just a diversion. Obviously her mom meant something to Ms. Frost.
Nothing else was said until the strange little tailor had left, still without Buffy catching his name. Ms. Frost turned to look at her, and spoke, "You will not be patrolling alone tonight. I've talked to a couple people who will be going with you, and I want you to help them learn what you can teach them about fighting demons and vampires."
"Are you giving me bodyguards?" Buffy yelped, uncertain if she was happy or annoyed by the idea.
"Not precisely. Though I do want you to come home in one uninjured piece," Ms. Frost paused, and then continued in a quieter voice, "You said that you've been fighting alone. There's only one of you, no matter how strong or skilled you are, and there are… I'm certain a good many more monsters. I want them to start out with you until they learn, and then eventually there can be multiple patrols in multiple locations at the same time. This means that if you have the flu, or get injured in a fight, or have a big test, you might not have to patrol at all."
Buffy blinked, thinking about the idea that she could have a night off without leaving the monsters to run unchecked. It was a very nice thought. "And if I do get hurt, I won't have to stagger back on my own and sneak in?"
"I'll make certain I have someone with some measure of medical training standing by," Ms. Frost sighed, "and with a group patrolling, the chance of injury should be reduced, and even if there is an injury, you shouldn't have to go by yourself to find treatment."
Buffy nodded, wondering to herself how many Slayers had fought, defeating some demon or vampire only to die of their wounds because they were fighting alone. She was fairly certain that would suck. And it had probably happened more than once. "… stupid Watchers."
With that, Buffy went to her room to at least look at the homework she had to turn in Monday. The downside to living in the same house as the person in charge of her school was that even calling in sick didn't get her a complete pass for the homework. She was also a bit curious just what sort of people were supposed to go patrolling with her, considering the dangers of demon hunting.
………………………………
Joyce watched as Buffy was measured for armor. She still didn't like the idea of her daughter – her fifteen year old daughter – hunting monsters, but it would be safer with armor, weapons, and someone to watch her back. The fitting had also left Buffy looking more thoughtful and less resentful of Emma, which could only be an improvement. She didn't quite catch what Buffy muttered before she left the room, and turned to look at Emma.
"What sort of people will you be sending with her?"
"The first is a woman who calls herself Jem. She has minor visible mutations, but her physical abilities are considerably enhanced. The second is Ash, and he can produce fire. I found him working in a sideshow as a fire-breathing man. There are a few other people that I've contacted about this, but either they won't be here in time or they haven't given me an answer yet," Emma answered.
"You do have some ideas in case there are more unreasonable Watchers?" Joyce glanced at Emma, wanting just a little reassurance. She knew better than asking if Buffy would be completely safe, or if there would be no more problems.
"Of course I do," Emma cupped her hand on Joyce's cheek, and gave a quick kiss. "I also have some plans in case we get a reasonable one."
Joyce tried to smile, and leaned closer to Emma, taking comfort in her presence. "How likely do you think that is? A reasonable Watcher, I mean."
"We don't know enough about them to guess yet. Though I did start some investigators looking into the people that had regular contact with the one who'd been stalking Buffy. We should start getting some more information soon," Emma replied.
…………………………………….
Elsewhere, Phillip Mooreland frowned as he let himself back into his apartment. He'd been certain that he felt someone following him earlier that day. The sunlight meant it couldn't have been a vampire, but there were any number of demons that could go in the daylight. For that matter, he could have picked up a possibly mugger, or there might have been yet another person who thought he looked a bit too much like David Bowie. He'd run into a few people who were certain he was the musician in disguise, and he found it frustratingly amusing – he was quite fond of the man's work, though he had gone through a few strange turns. To Phillip's personal dismay, he couldn't sing worth ten pence.
He just didn't understand why anybody would be following him. He worked in an organic food store, took a yoga class, and paid all his bills on time. He didn't have a lover, which ruled out the chance of a jealous husband being angry with him for his transgressions. No traffic offenses or trouble with the local constables… nothing.
Starting the kettle of water for tea, Phillip pulled out his copy of Chammerly's Index of Water Demons and turned to the section on cold ocean demons. There had been some odd things towards the docks, and it was a wise Watcher who was prepared for whatever demons they might encounter. Also a Watcher who might live to see old age. Now what sort of demon might it have been… a thin, man sized figure lurking at the water's edge. Granted, it could have been one of the local human vagrants, but… it could also have been a demon.
Maybe whoever had been following him would get bored and go away.
End part 25.