Change of Season

A change of seasons, Part17

1

"Faith, be careful!"

Faith pulls the SUV out into traffic quickly; a little too quickly. A smaller car nearly sideswiped them as she pulled out, blaring its horn at them.

"Stupid California drivers. Where did ya get your license, creep? In a crackerjack box?" Faith grumbles as she heads down the street. "Idiot!"

"You nearly hit that guy as you pulled out. Weren't you looking?" Joyce asks from the backseat, where she's riding with Willow. "Pull over. Maybe I should drive home."

"I can drive just fine, Joyce. I've been doing it since I was fourteen. Can I help it that guy was some wussy who can't look where he's going and drives by horn?"

"You're obviously upset, and not paying attention …."

Faith muscles the SUV over to the side of the road, causing a few more horns to blare when she cuts them off suddenly. She pulls up to the curb, and puts on the emergency brake.

"Look, I'm driving like I always drive, ok? I can handle this just fine. I've driven an 18 wheeler before, Joyce. Have you?"

"No, but…"

"So, I can handle the mom-mobile just fine, ok? Just let me drive, and you and Willow there have a nice chat, ok?"

"You don't have to snap my head off, Faith," Joyce sounds more than a little hurt.

"Whatever," Faith growls, pulling back out into traffic.

Faith is very angry. Angry at Cordelia, for messing up her life for no better reason than she's a spoiled brat playing games used to getting her own way. And they let her get away with it. That's what burns so much. She even TRIES to pull this kinda crap in Southie, and they'd hang her by her short hairs… after shaving her head!

If Joyce and Willow hadn't been there, she would've beaten that girl to a nub. Yeah, and then go to jail for how long?

She's also pissed because, once again, just as she's getting herself on track, God or whoever comes along and slaps her right back down.

All I'm trying to do here is get my life in order, make myself somebody, and crapolla shitola shinola. I get the royal ass screwing, again! Bogus to the extreme. What's the deal here, God? Do you just hate me? Do you LIKE torturing me? Or maybe I'm nothing but white trash. Is that what your telling me? Don't EVEN bother to make myself better, because I can't BE any better! What the fuck? Why should I even try?

Why didJoyce stop me? I so had her, she should've let me pound her. At least a little more. God, after what she tried to do to Buffy? She should've been handing me the pipes to hit her upside the head. What's her deal? Why protect her?

Her deal, moronic one, is that she loves you. Don't you get that, YET? She's trying to protect you, not her! God, stupid much? She maybe would rather you be around, than sit in jail for assault and battery and who knows what else. Yeah, that Joyce. A real pain in your ass. One that you so can't live without.

The big loser here tonight, Faith? You! Got it? You, because you nearly lost it, and really could've killed that girl. Not that she doesn't deserve it, but you're moaning because things don't go your way, but did it occur to you that you often sabotage your own chances? Is it really worth going to jail for that stupid bitch? No, it’s not, but your dumb Irish temper almost got you there tonight. She messed you up, but you can bounce back from that. Messing yourself up? That's plain stupid!

Knowing that doesn't help her anger, however. As she drives along in the night, her nerves are crackly fragile, her insides feel all twisted up, and all she can feel is the anger rising off her in waves. She's mad, and she wants something to hit. Something to break and make things feel better.

Ya, and you better get that temper in control, real soon. Cuz one of these days you're going to lose it, and lose the most important thing in your life. Got it moron?

Faith suddenly becomes aware that Joyce and Willow are talking about Cordelia, and that Willow is trying to excuse her behavior.

"…that doesn't excuse what she did…"

"Damn right it don't, " Faith butts in from the front seat. " Poor little rich girl. Her daddy neglected her. My heart's breakin' here."

"Faith…"

"No, Joyce, I’m sorry. I'm listening to this claptrap, and it's bogus. "

"What do you know about it?" Willow says, defensively. "She's had it pretty…"

"Oh, gimme a break. Look, kid, I grew up in a bad neighborhood. The kind where a lot of the parents are druggies or drunks. I've seen kids beaten up, neglected, all sortsa crap. Most of them don't go around doing what you're little girlfriend did. That's just plain evil…"

"She's not evil. You don't know …"

"I know this, kiddo. I know if you hang with that bitch, you're in for a world of hurt. If your smart…" Faith glances around quickly "… you'll run far and fast from her. She's bad news. And she's gonna hurt you. If you don't know that, then you're not as smart as I think you are…"

"I love her!"

Willow's face looks almost as shocked at the admission as Joyce's does at hearing it.

"Oh, geeze," is all Faith can say from the front seat.

"You love her, Willow?" Joyce asks, taking her hand. "Oh, Willow, I think Faith might be right. That might lead to something you really don't want…"

"Mrs. Summers. Please, I know she did something awful… I trust you when you say that. She's made some mistakes, but she's really… not evil…" She almost glares at Faith.

Faith makes a quick left, pulling into a service station. She drives forward to the pump. Stopping, she turns to face Willow.

"Look, Willow. I know you think I'm angry just because of this…" She points at the cheek Joyce bandaged earlier while they were waiting for Willow. "And about what she did to me and tried to do with Buffy. Yeah, sure, I'm angry about that, but this is more. I know her, Willow. I've met her kind too many times. She's in it for herself, and she doesn’t give a rat's butt about you or you're feelings. Be smart, dump her. It'll hurt bad now, but it'll be worse later if she …" Faith shakes her head, seeing she's not getting through.

"You just don't know," Willow retreats into the corner, "you don't know anything about it. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Faith, why'd we stop?" Joyce tries to change the subject.

"Well, we're on fumes, Joyce. Figured we better get gas before we're out pushing the car, you know?"

"Good idea. Really not up for that… do you need money?"

"Naw, I'm ok, Joy…"

"It's ok, don't worry about it." Joyce retrieves her purse, pulling out some money. "I don't suppose they'd have anything to eat here…?"

"Depends. What's your definition of food?"

"Doesn't matter. I'm starved. Pretty sure you are too… didn't get anything to eat." She turns to Willow. "Did you want anything, Willow?"

"No, that's ok. I'm a vegan. I really can't eat meat." She wrinkles her brow. "Or whatever that junk is they put in the burritos."

Joyce chuckles. "Ok, dear. Get us something to eat, would you, Faith?"

"Yeah, ok. Be back."

Faith jumps out of the drivers seat, and heads for the mini mart on the lot.

Joyce watches her go, feeling a small knot forming in her stomach. She knows Faith is just a bundle of mad, and is barely holding her temper in check.

She's a little startled when a hand covers hers. She turns to see Willow looking at her with some concern.

"Are you ok, Mrs. Summers?" Willow asks, squeezing her hand.

"Hmmm? Yes, I'm fine," She smiles a little. "How about you? I know Faith can get a little rough sometimes."

"I get it. I'm thinking she's not angry at me so much as… well, I guess concerned…"

"She means well. I know she cares… that's just her nature…" Joyce turns to Willow, patting her hand. "I know you're a good person, Willow. I like you. I don't want to see you get hurt, and I have to agree with Faith. This Cordelia seems like bad news."

"I know what I'm doing, Mrs. Summers," Willow insists, turning away a little.

Joyce sighs internally. Can't help her if she doesn’t want help.

For a beat, they sit silently, both feeling the awkwardness.

"So, ummm… are you gay now, Mrs. Summers?" Willow asks, to break the silence.

"I'm sorry?" Joyce looks straight ahead, taken aback.

"You're bi, then?"

"Bi? What's that?" Joyce looks confused and a little affronted.

"I mean, I thought you and… oh…" Willow's flustered.

Faith and I are just friends, we were suppose to be celebrating and she suggested this place, and…" Joyce fumbles a little, not sure exactly what to tell Willow.

"Oh. OH, right, sure," Willow nods. "I'd heard some straight women come there when they get tired of being hit on in regular bars. Just, I've never met one before…" She smiles a tiny smile. "So, how do you and …" She nods her head towards the convenience store, "… know each other."

"She does have a name, Willow," Joyce puts on a mother-like tone. "Faith."

"I'm sorry," reacting to the tone automatically. "Faith, right."

"She lives with me…"

"Excuse me?" Willow's eyes go a little wider.

"I mean, she lives in my house… downstairs, in the basement," Joyce almost stumbles over the words getting them out. "she was a student, and she needed a place, and she helped out with Buffy, and I thought it would be the right thing to offer her a place cheap. And she helps out around the house and with the girls, sometimes. "

Willow doesn't say a word; she just stares at Joyce.

"She's from Boston, you see," Joyce goes on, a little nervously. "I met her last summer while on an art buying trip in the East. She was working at a museum, and we had lunch together. I told her about Sunnydale, and I guess she liked what I said, because she showed up here …" She notices Willow's look. "Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, no. Just, seems kind of strange, don't you think? Coming across the country to go to… I'm not saying UC Sunnydale isn't a good school, but there are lots of schools in the east. I'm wondering why she came all the way across country to go here?"

"Well, she said she wanted to come to California, I guess she decided to do that."

"Sure, sure," Willow nods. " But that still doesn't explain something?"

"What?"

"Oh, just I've seen the way she looks at you," Willow says, "and it looks more than casual to me. And the way you danced at the club? Looked like more than just friends."

Joyce is glad it's dark in the truck, to hide her deep blush. "I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you mean, Willow. Faith and I are friends," Joyce says quietly. "I think you're seeing things that just aren't there." Lie much, Joyce? Oh, only all the time.

"Mrs. Summers, I wasn't trying to 'out' you or anything, I just wondered…"

"There's simply nothing to wonder about, Willow." Joyce says, a little sternly. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't share these speculations with my daughters. They're having enough trouble adjusting to a new place and new school. I don't think they need this on top of everything else."

"I'm sorry, I got a little too personal," Willow bites her lip. "Look, let's just pretend this conversation never happened, ok? My lips are sealed."

"Thank you," Joyce says, settling back into her seat. She closes her eyes for a moment.

Why'd you do that? Why'd you lie to her? Because, frankly, I don't need this being spread around as gossip. And maybe, I'm not really sure about what I am. Maybe I just can't deal with this right now.

Or maybe, the idea of being gay might just scare you…

The silence grows longer.

"You know, Willow, my girls are very fond of you." Joyce breaks the silence, finally.

"Really," Willow is quite pleased. "I like them a lot too."

"Buffy and Dawn both speak highly of you. I trust their judgment; they've made some mistakes in the past…" Joyce sighs a little, thinking how Buffy has made a lot of mistakes lately, "… but generally they're good judges of character."

"Why, thank you Mrs. Summers." Willow smiles broadly.

"I guess that's why it disturbs me so; You're a good kid, but you're hanging out with this Chase girl… How do you know her, anyway?"

Willow's smile fades a little. Oh, oh, I feel a lecture coming on.

"We, well we were an item a year or so ago. But there were some problems, and we broke up. We've been kind of off again and on again, know what I mean?"

Joyce nods, knowing exactly what Willow means.

"I'm still finding it hard to believe what she did to Buffy…" Willow looks thoughtful.

"She never mentioned anything about Buffy or the party that night?"

"No, ma'am … not to me…" God, dance around the truth, why don't you? "… I'm…I'm really shocked here, you know?" LIAR!

"How'd you meet her, Willow? I know you go to school together, but it must've been more than just being classmates. I don't know if it's changed a lot, but it used to be there were pretty strong social groups in school, and you hardly ever dated out of them. Maybe it's different now…"

"Well… actually, Mr. Chase… that's Cordelia's father, hired me to tutor Cordelia." She looks at the other woman, and sighs. "Look, I'm not trying to defend whatever she did, but Mr. Chase is a real bastard."

"Willow…" Joyce protests.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Summers, but it's true. He doesn't treat Cordelia like a daughter. God, he doesn't even treat her like a human. He treats her like he treats the rest of his stuff… she's a possession, nothing more. She's expected to do certain things, be a certain way, and if she doesn't do that…" Willow shakes her head. "He ignores her. I know doesn't sound like much, but I've never once see him look at her with any fatherly affection. She's like a pretty doll. Dress her up nice to show off, but she belongs to him, nothing more. She's not even really real to him… do you see what I mean?"

"Yes, I do," Joyce nods sympathetically. "That's a terrible thing to do to a child, I agree. But that really doesn't excuse what she did to Faith, or Buffy. Do you see that? Two wrongs don't make it right."

Willow looks down at the floor, not speaking.

God, Joyce, why don't you just beat on her? Why so rough? Afraid she'll figure out about you and Faith? Sometimes, I wonder how much of an adult you really are.

"I think I'll go check on Faith. She's been gone for awhile." Joyce slides out, closing the door behind her.

"Ok, Mrs. Summers," Willow says to the empty seat beside her.

She watches Joyce walk away, and she can't help feeling a little angry.

Who does she think she is? Judging me and Cor? I mean, c'mon, does she think I'm stupid? Who does she really think she's kidding? It's obvious they're a couple. Why is she denying it? Does she think if she doesn't acknowledge it, it'll go away? Glass houses, Joyce. Shouldn't be throwing stones if you're living in one…

Willow sighs… God, harsh much, Willow? After all, it's can't be easy for her. She grew up in a different time, when being gay was considered a moral and mental disease. She can't just chuck that off, and what she's going through must be tough on her. Really tough. It's not easy for me, and it was a lot worse when she was growing up. Maybe you should worry about your own affairs, and let her take care of hers.

Joyce stands looking into the convenience store window, watching Faith talking animatedly to the sales girl behind the counter. She's a lot closer to Faith's age than Joyce, and rather attractive. Even from here, not hearing what Faith is saying to her, Joyce can tell she's flirting with the girl.

Joyce can't help the strong twinge of jealousy that suffuses through her.

She thinks about what's happened since Faith arrived here, how many times Faith has taken it on the chin for her or her family, and she feels her stomach tighten.

Can you blame her, really? She's given me a lot, and what have I done, really, for her? I'm afraid to even admit my feelings to anyone… or maybe she's growing tired of me. Maybe I'm holding her back…

Oh, grow up, Joyce, she's just flirting a little bit. It's not like she's cheating on you. God, get real. She's done nothing but prove again and again how much she cares for you. Are you so insecure that you're going to get jealous every time she looks at another woman? Get over yourself, it's nothing…

But it hurts a little, nonetheless. And the fear, after Hank and his little 'flirtations', leaves her feeling weak and old and not very attractive. She turns away, before Faith can spot her, and walks back to the SUV.

"Hey, so did you find Faith?" Willow asks. She notices Joyce's expression, "Mrs. Summers? What's wrong?"

"Hmmm? Oh, I'm just thinking I owe you an apology." Joyce sits next to Willow. "I shouldn't have been so judgmental about you and Cordelia. I realize you can't help who you love. I just… I don't want to see you get hurt…"

"Thanks, Mrs. Summers, that really means a lot to me, " Willow reaches over, taking her hand and squeezing it. "And I owe you an apology too. I had no right to get so pushy about you and Faith. I mean, it's none of my business, and I'm sorry for being such a nosy parker."

"It's all right, honey. You were just curious," Joyce says, quickly looking away.

Willow senses something else, something Joyce wants to say and isn't saying… but she holds back, not wanting to intrude again.

"Still, I was wrong to make assumptions. You know, assumptions… makes an ass out of you and me, right?" Willow jokes.

" Willow. I lied to you just now," Joyce admits in a soft voice.

"Joyce, you don't have to tell me… it's ok…" Willow tries to stop her.

"No, I want to. I admire how… open you are about it," Joyce takes a deep breath. "There is something between Faith and me. I'm not exactly sure what it is, or what it makes me, but I know how I feel about her…"

Willow puts an arm around Joyce's shoulder, and hugs her.

"That took a lot of guts, Mrs. Summers. I know it's not easy admitting how you feel about her…"

"Yeah, that's me. Gutsy Joyce," Joyce smiles ruefully. "I mean, look at you. From what Dawn's told me, you've been open about being … gay… for a long time. I can't even say the word easily."

"Look, Mrs. Summers, I had a hard time admitting to myself, too. But I also got tired of pretending to be something I wasn't," Willow shrugs. "That doesn't mean it wasn't hard. It was, and it still is."

"I'm scared, Willow. I'll admit it. I mean, look at me. I'm a mom, and Faith is so much younger than me. She could be with anyone she wants… why is she hanging around with an old mom like me?"

"Mrs. Summers, did something happen?" Willow looks at her with concern.

"I went to check on her, and she was kind of flirting with the store clerk. The pretty young female store clerk. I guess I just …

"Got jealous?" Willow laughs knowingly. "Trust me, it's not just you. And…" She nods to herself more than Joyce, "I saw the way she fought for you and Buffy tonight. Like a momma bear for her cubs, you know? I dunno, I'm just a kid, but that says love to me." And I'm totally jealous? Oh yeah! When did anyone named Cordelia fight for me? Really?

"I know she cares for me…" She sees Willows little smirk. "Ok, loves me. But she wants me to be … is the expression 'Out' ?"

"Yeah, as in out of the closet."

"Oh, so that's what that expression means. I never knew that." Joyce nods knowingly. "That makes a lot more sense now… anyway, she wants me out, and I…"

You're not ready?" Willow smiles when Joyce nods. "Look I know you'll feel a lot better, more confident about things when you finally 'come out'. But you can't rush it, you gotta do it when you're ready. Don't let anyone make you do it otherwise, ok? Not even Faith," She smiles, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone. It'll be our little secret, Mrs. Summers."

"Well, if we’re going to be sharing secrets, then I guess you better call me Joyce."

"Secret? Who's got a secret?" Faith's head pops in the driver's window. "What's the what, guys?"

"Nothing…nobody…" Joyce says. "Just a little friendly gossip.

"Yeah, we were just trying to guess the Colonel's secret recipe." Willow giggles.

Faith looks at them, and frowns.

"Well, you two are goof balls," She says, opening the door. She slides in and hands Joyce a bag over her shoulder. "Here you go. Careful, it's hot."

Joyce takes the bag, and puts it on the seat

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry now."

Faith looks at her through the rear view mirror.

"Whatever, " She says, starting up the engine. "So, where am I taking you, Willow?"

"Not far. I live close to Adams and Main."

"Cool. Buckle up."

Faith puts the SUV in drive and pulls out of the service station.

2

Faith turns into the driveway to the Revello Drive house, and pulls the SUV up to the garage. She kills the motor, and leans on the wheel.

"Well, we're home," Faith states the obvious.

"Yes, we are…" Joyce sighs, still staring out her window.

The drive from Willow's house, and then home was strained at best.

It was obvious to Joyce that Faith was still brooding over the fight at the restaurant, and she barely said a word after they left Willow's house.

Joyce, for her part, was still feeling a little off about seeing Faith flirting, even though she knew it was innocent. That, and Willow asking her about being gay had her caught up in her own little world.

It was beginning to get a little scary for Joyce. Up to now, it had been all about … well, the loving. But now there was this new element. She knew in her heart Faith wasn't going to wait around forever for her to come out and admit they had an intimate relationship. She knew it wasn't fair to Faith not to be open about it.

But that didn't make it easier for her. Only harder. How will Buffy and Dawn react to it? That their mom is … oh geeze, I can't even say it in my head! GAY, Joyce! GAY! Buffy is already half convinced I drove her father away. If she learns that I'm having an affair with Faith, what then? She'll … crap, this isn't working.

Joyce slides out of the car, and walks towards the front door. She pauses a moment.

"Faith, do you think you could get the cans from the back and bring them out front? The trash is picked up tomorrow morning."

Faith locks the SUV, tossing Joyce the keys.

"Yeah, sure, no prob." She walks around the side of the yard to the back.

Joyce watches her go, shaking her head.

I just don't know. I just wish this were easier. God, how am I gonna deal with it if Buffy and Dawn aren't happy about this? What if they decide they want to live with their father? Oh, that would be just …. Damn.

Joyce walks to the front door and opens it. Stepping into the foyer, she sees a light in the living room. She frowns.

God, how many times do I have to tell the girls to turn out all the lights before going to bed? Can't they even remember one little thing?

She walks over towards the living room when a voice greets her.

"Do you ever get home before midnight?"

What? Oh… no! Not now! God, not now! What does he want?

"Henry, what're you doing here?" Joyce moves into the living room, obviously not pleased.

"Hello, Joyce. It's good to see you too," Hank Summers stands up, looking at his watch, "though it's rather late for you to be coming home, don't you think?"

Joyce frowns. "Excuse me? Exactly how is that your business?"

"Well, when you leave the girls alone all night, I'm rather concerned."

Joyce looks at him with some surprise at his chutzpah, and almost laughs out loud.

"I really hope you're not going for father of the year here, Hank, because frankly, you're going to lose." Joyce walks over to the sofa, sitting down. "So, why are you here again? Other than to make me laugh, that is?"

"I came to see my daughters. Is there a problem with that?"

"No, as long as you tell me first, Hank. I really don't enjoy these little late night surprises you keep arranging."

"Maybe if you were home once in awhile, it wouldn't be such a surprise. Every time I come here, you're out."

"Well, maybe if you acted like an interested father and came around more than once in awhile," Joyce's tone grows a bit impatient, "You'd catch me at home… which I am most nights. But this on again/ off again concern for the girls' welfare? It's getting old."

"I care about my daughters, and I don't like you trying to keep them away from me."

"No one is 'keeping them away' from you, except you, Hank. I can count on one hand how many times you've been here in the last few months. It's not exactly the schedule of a 'concerned' father."

"I really don't like the idea that I have to call you to get your permission to see Buffy and Dawn!"

"It's not about getting permission, Hank. It's about letting me know you're coming. I don't like being surprised by you," Joyce's voice takes on a tinge of anger. "Not after that little beating you gave me…"

"Well, maybe if you hadn't…"

Hank is interrupted by a voice coming from the foyer.


"Hey, Joyce, I think you left your lights on. Do you have the keys…"

Faith's voice trails off when she enters the living room to see Hank Summers sitting on the couch.

"What's he doing here?" Faith asks Joyce, staring at Hank.

"He was just leaving," Joyce says.

"No, I'm not, Joyce," Hank reaches into his coat, pulling out an envelope. He hands it to Joyce. She takes it, and opens it.

"What's this?"

"It's a copy of a court order, Joyce. In it, you'll see I've been granted unrestricted rights to see my daughters. Anytime, anyplace."

Joyce read over the document, her cheeks flaming to a bright red. She looks up.

"Why wasn't I informed of this?"

"We tried to serve you, but the process server could never quite get ahold of you," Hank smirks, "So, I published a notice in an LA paper for a couple of weeks. Since I couldn't reach you, the judgment is by default."

"Well, this is a new low, Henry," Joyce says with barely concealed anger. "All you had to do was pick up a phone and call me…"

" How did I know you hadn't changed the number?"

"At the Gallery?"

"Gee, I never had that number, Joyce." Hank is all innocence.

"This is illegal, Hank. I'm going to get it thrown out," Joyce threatens.

"Try it, Joyce, and I'll fight you with everything I got. They're my daughters, too, and I have a right to see them."

"Some father you are, Hank. You couldn't be bothered with them until now. What's up, what's the real reason for this?" She waves the document at him.

"I told you!" Hank stands up, pulling himself up to tower over Joyce, " They're my daughters, and I want to be able to see them anytime and anyplace I want to!"

"Well, it's not going to be here, Henry Summers. I'm calling my lawyer in the morning, and he'll find a way to overturn this, " She pokes him in the chest. "Furthermore, I'm going to get a restraining order against you, so you can't even come within 100 yards of this place. I'm tired of you trying to come here and bully me into whatever you want!"

"Don't you threaten me, Joyce!" Hank pushes her. " This is my house too! I can come and go as I please!"

Suddenly, Faith is between them. She pushes Hank back, glaring at him.

"Don't you touch her, creep," She mutters, "or you're gonna be way sorry."

"Who the hell are you?" Hank looks down on her, almost laughing. " Get lost!"

"I'm just telling you, get your fat ass outta here," Faith pushes him again.

Hank grabs her and shoves her out of the way.

"Look, you little bitch. I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you better leave before I get angry. This isn't any of your business." He raises his fist to her.

"Leave her alone, Hank. She lives here!" Joyce grabs his hand.

"She lives here, does she?" Hank shrugs Joyce off, "What, did you decide to get another lesbo lover, Joyce?"

"You're sick, Hank. She's a student at UC Sunnydale. She's just a boarder here. Leave her alone!"

"Shut up, Joyce!" Hank turns to Faith, "I thought I told you to get lost. This doesn't concern you!"

"I'm not going anywhere, tubby. I heard what you did to her the last time."

"Faith, stay out of this! I can handle this!"

"Joyce, I'm not just gonna stand by while tub o lard here hits you…"

"You little …" Hank raises his hand, but again, Joyce grabs it.

"Faith, go to your room. I can handle this. You're just making it worse!"

"You heard her, little girl. It's grown up time. Get lost."

"Just go, Faith, please. This isn't any of your concern. Just go." Joyce's tone is a little exasperated, and harsh.

Faith looks as if she's been slapped. She looks at Joyce, then at Hank. She frowns.

"Whatever. I'm going," She mutters. She makes a wide circle around Hank, and heads for the kitchen. "Handle it yourselves. You're both acting like such grown ups." Turning, she quickly walks away.

"What the hell is her problem?" Hank watches her go. "What kind of people are you exposing my daughters to, anyway?"

"A lot better than the whores you run around with, Hank." Joyce retorts, angrily, "Faith's a good kid. She helps out around here, sometimes watching the girls when I have to be away. She at least is here for them, a lot more than I can say about you!" She walks away from him, deeper into the living room. "So, what's the real deal here, Hank? Why the sudden interest in the girls?"

"They're my daughters too, Joyce," Hank says, following her in, "and I won't have you denying me visitation rights!"

"Oh for god sakes, Hank. All you had to do was ask. But you're almost never around to ask, are you? No, there's something else going on here."

"I love my daughters! I want to see them! Is that a crime?" He moves closer to her, as if to intimidate her. "Anyway, you have no right to refuse me. I've got a court order!"

"We'll see how long that lasts, Hank. You obtained it illegally, without informing me of the hearing. Once my lawyer gets ahold of it, it'll be tossed out…"

Hank pauses. Seeing she's not bluffing; knowing that if he doesn't get the rights to see his daughters, and prove he's a good 'family' man, it could cost him the biggest business deal of his life, switches tack.

"Look, Joyce, I'm sorry, ok? I got desperate. After what happened the last time, I thought for sure you'd try to keep the girls from me. I just want to be part of their lives, too. Is that so terrible?"

Joyce, despite her anger, softens a little. She can understand the feeling of desperation at the thought of losing her daughters. She remembers how desperate she was when Hank threatened her with it. Goddamn him! He does that to me, and still comes here and tries this crap! She feels her anger grow, remembering what he did to her. On one hand, she would love to break a few of the living room lamps over his head. On the other, she knows that Buffy and Dawn adore their dad, and she doesn't want to cut them off from him. And he wasn't really a terrible father. They love him, and I guess he loves them in his way. Still, I'm not going to be bullied by him into anything. He doesn't deserve that, not after what he's done.

All this passes through her mind in a second, and she sighs heavily.

"I wish you'd just asked me, Hank. I'm not a terrible person. I don't want to deprive Buffy and Dawn of their father. But I'm not going to be bullied by you anymore. You have no right to just come in here and order me to do what you want, Hank Summers. You never got that while we were married, and I'm certainly not taking it from you now that were divorced…"

"The divorce isn't final yet, Joyce."

"Don't push it, Hank. It's all over but the decree. I'll think about what you said, and get back to you on it."

"Joyce…" Hanks tone begins to rise.

"I said, don't push it, Henry. You made a big mistake with that court order. If I have my lawyer pursue it, I'll take away all visitation rights. Is that clear? You're not going to get anywhere trying to threaten me anymore, Hank. I can still ruin you."

Hank feels his temper rise, and his fists tighten at his side. But he pushes it back down. This is too important to lose by losing my temper. Just keep cool, Hank.

"Ok, Joyce. Just, please, don't take the girls away from me. Please?"

"I think you better go now, Henry. I'll think about it, and call you at your office."

"Actually, I'm staying at the Ramada Inn in Sunnydale. I'm here on some other business. You can reach me there." He puts on a humble face. "I'm looking for a place close, so I can be around more…"

Joyce feels a cold little chill in her stomach. That's not good! Damn! "You're not staying here, Henry."

" I know, I know," He puts up his hands in mock surrender. " But if you hear of an apartment for rent…" he trails off, putting on a boyish grin.

"I think you better leave now."

Henry nods, and walks towards the foyer. "I'm sorry about earlier…"

"Just go, please?"

"I'm going," Henry says, almost pleasantly. "Don't forget to call me."

"I won't."

Hank walks through the foyer, and out the front door, closing it quietly behind him.

He stands on the porch for a moment, staring up at the sky.

If that bitch thinks she's going to queer this deal with Avery Chase to buy the company, she's got another think coming. I'm already on thin ice with the partners, and if this doesn't go through, I'm out with nothing. And that just isn't going to happen…

He starts off the porch, striding quickly towards his car.

Joyce is becoming too much of a problem for me. If that evidence she collected ever gets out, I'm through… He pauses for a moment by his car, letting that thought chill him. No, it's not going to happen. I'm not going to let that dried up hag ruin everything for me. There's got to be something I can do… something … permanent.

Opening the door, he settles into the car, starting the engine.

Something very permanent. Maybe it's time Joyce had a little accident…

Contemplating that, he puts the car in gear and drives away.

3


Joyce watches the door close behind Hank, an immense feeling of relief washing over her.

She really wasn't up for fighting tonight, especially with Hank over the girls. After the club, and then the drive home, she had enough to think about. Now she has the additional worry of what exactly Hank is up to.

Not buying the 'Gee, I want to be a dad' story he's trying to sell. Hank isn't exactly father of the year, and I don't think he's going to change his ways anytime soon. He's got something going on, and now I've got to worry about that, too. At least he left without a knock down drag out fight this time. God, I want to strangle that man!

Joyce makes her way toward the cellar door in the kitchen. She wants to see, Faith, badly. She needs some reassurance right now, and Faith is the only one that can give it to her. She pauses at the basement door.

Thank goodness I've got her! She's the only good thing in this whole mess. I don't know what to call what we've got, but I'd go nuts if I didn't have it.

She walks down the steps, noticing Faith is sitting on her bed, staring out into space.

Faith turns when she hears Joyce coming down the steps, then turns away again. She goes back to staring at the opposite wall.

"Hi, sweetie. I'm sorry about Hank. I had no idea he'd be here…"

"Forget it. Not a big deal," Faith says, her tone slightly chilly. She turns to Joyce, her eyes flat and distant. "Was there something you wanted?"

Joyce stops at the last step, holding onto the stair rail.

"Are you ok, honey?" Joyce walks over to Faith, looking at her carefully. "Did he hurt you?"

Faith looks at her with an "are you kidding?" look.

"No, he didn't touch me. Not really."

"Oh, ok," Joyce can feel the chilliness waving off of Faith. "Are you still upset about tonight? At the restaurant? I know you're upset because I stopped you from assaulting that Chase girl, but I didn't want to see you get arrested. I was just trying to protect you."

"Yeah, you seem to be protecting me all over the place tonight," Faith says, slightly sarcastically. "I never knew I needed to be so protected before."

"Aw, c'mon, sweetie, don't be that way, " Faith sits down next to Faith, putting an arm around her waist. "I love you and just want to be sure you're safe. Is that such a crime?" She leans in, kissing behind Faith's ear. "Isn't there something I can do to make it better?"

Faith sits there, not believing that Joyce could be so dense. Still, the kiss behind the ear gives her the usual warm tingles. But she shrugs her off. Dammit, no! She moves away from Joyce, standing up.

"Look, Joyce, I'm really tired. I don't feel like it tonight. Could you just go, please? I need some time alone."

Joyce sits there, hurt and confused. What? What's wrong? Why is she being so cold?

"Honey, what's wrong? What's bothering you?"

Faith just stares at her, not answering.

Joyce gets up, really hurt now. She walks towards the stairs. "Ok, whatever you want, Faith. I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Yeah, whatever," Faith answers, sitting on her bed.

"Goodnight, then," Joyce turns and walks up the stairs.

Faith watches her go, biting her lip to keep from calling out. Her whole body yearns to grab Joyce, and hold her close, lose herself in her.

But after the way Joyce dismissed her tonight, she sees the writing on the wall.

She's never going to treat me as a partner. She's never going to make this real. I'm always just going to be her dirty little secret.


Well, not this girl. No sir. Not me!

That still doesn't ease the fiery pain in her heart. That still doesn't make her feel better, or right, or anything. It only makes her feel lonely.

As soon as Joyce is gone, she collapses on the bed, and cries.

4

There is a definite cold front in the dining room of the Summer's household the next morning. Faith does her best to avoid Joyce; Joyce moves around, setting the table for breakfast, trying to figure out what's bothering Faith. She sets the plates out, and brings the food to the table, setting it out for everyone.

"Good morning," Joyce says, quietly, as she carries her cup of coffee to the table.

Faith is already at the table, as far away from where Joyce normally sits as she can reasonably be. Her head is buried in the newspaper.

"Good morning," She mumbles, not looking up.

Faith stares at the paper, at the same paragraph she's been looking at for the last 5 minutes. She's hiding, hoping that she can get out of here quickly before anything else comes up.

Joyce stares into space, occasionally glancing over at Faith, trying to think of a way to engage her in conversation. Maybe then I can find out what's bothering her. God, what did I do this time? Joyce wonders, feeling a little frustrated. She's so touchy. You never know what's going to set her off.

"Any plans for today?"

"I dunno, thought I might look for a job," Faith mutters brusquely.

"Faith, you don't have to do that right now. There's no hurry. It's not like I'm going to kick you out…" Joyce tries smiling, but it dies quickly when Faith just grunts at her. "Anyway, it's Saturday. No use looking today."

"Don't like to be sitting around, doing nothing…"

"Well, you'll be back in school soon. Why not just concentrate on that?"

Faith looks up at Joyce, as if she's lost her mind.

"Did you forget, Joyce? I was kicked out of school."

"No, I didn't forget, Faith. But Cordelia said she'd get you reinstated…"

"And, you really believe that?" Faith shakes her head, and looks back down at her paper.

"Is that what's bothering you?" Joyce asks. "You think she's not going to come through on her promise?"

Faith looks at Joyce over the edge of the paper. She doesn't reply, just looks back down.

Joyce sighs, feeling frustrated. God, why doesn't she just come out with it? She tries another tack.

"I was thinking about last night…"

Faith sighs heavily, and puts down the paper.

"What about it?"

"Well…" Joyce suddenly feels the heat of Faith's gaze, and her throat goes dry, "… I was thinking about what Hank said, about seeing the girls. I'm thinking it might be a good idea…"

Faith shakes her head, as if she can't believe what she just heard.

"You're telling me you're going to let him come around and see the girls?"

Buffy comes down the stairs, feeling pretty good about herself. After seeing her dad last night, and seeing how much he seemed to care about her, she sees a light at the end of the dark tunnel she's been living in.

Maybe they don't want me around here, but he wants me. I can tell. I can go live with him. Maybe back in L.A. I can get back in my old school. Anything to get out of here. No one wants me around here.


She hears voices in the dining room, and hearing Hank's name, stops to listen.

"I really don't see what choice I have. Sure, I can get that court order overturned, he did that illegally. But there's the fact that he is their father, and I'm sure they want to visit with him. How can I really say no?" Joyce asks.

"You say no. N-O. The man is… god, Joyce, he's a pig. Do you really want them to be exposed to that? What's to keep him from getting the idea that maybe he wants to keep them?" Faith shakes her head, "What're you going to do then?"

Pig? My dad is NOT a pig! Buffy fumes, listening on the stairs.

”Oh for god sakes, Faith. Yeah, Hank's no saint, I agree with you there. But he loves the girls. He's always been a good father to them. He's not going to try to kidnap them or anything. That's insane!"

"Really? How about you ask the hundreds of people who've had kids kidnapped by a divorced spouse, and never seen them again? I don't trust that guy further than I can throw him. He's a creep, Joyce."

Shut up! You shut UP! You don't know what you're talking about! Buffy wants to go in there and pop her one.

"He wouldn't do that, Faith. He's not stupid, if nothing else. He has too much to lose if he pulls something like that."

"Ok, but do you really want him exposing them to his girlfriends? I mean, after all Joyce, he's not known to keep it in his pants too good. You want them to see that?"

Dawn comes to the top of the stairs, and stops.

"Buffy, what're you doing there?" She walks down to her sister. "Are you eavesdropping?"

"What? No, I wasn't eavesdropping. I was thinking of what a moron I have for a sister. It's so devastating, it just stops me dead in my tracks sometimes, " Buffy retorts, and then walks down to the dining room.

Dawn makes a disgusted noise, and follows her down.

"Good morning, Buffy. Good morning, Dawn," Joyce greets her daughters as they enter the dining room.

"Morning, guys," Faith says to the pair.

"Hi, mom," Buffy says brightly. She pointedly ignores Faith.

"Hi, mom, morning Faith," Dawn says, walking over and sitting next to Faith. She reaches for the cereal. "By the way, mom, dad dropped by last night."

"Oh?" Joyce feigns ignorance. "Really? He didn't call me…"

"Well, he just dropped by, mom," Buffy adds in. "We talked, and he's going to come by later and pick me up. We're going to spend the day together."

Faith shoots an ' I told you so' look at Joyce.

"This is the first I heard of this," Joyce says. "Why wasn't I told about this?"

"Well, he was here last night, mom," Buffy says, "and you weren't around. So, I'm telling you now."

"Did you forget something, Buffy? You're on restriction. You can't go out without clearing it with me first."

"Mom! This is dad! I'm not going to hang with friends or nothing… "

"Hank should know better. He can't just waltz in here any time and make plans without okaying it with me. And you know that too. It'll just have to wait…"

"No way!" Buffy explodes, standing up. "I don't hardly ever get to see dad, and now he wants to spend the day with me, and you're not keeping me from seeing him!"

Dawn, over in the corner by Faith, winces. Faith reaches out and pats her shoulder.

"Young lady, don't yell at me," Joyce says, her face flushing. "You don't make plans to go anywhere without clearing them with me. That includes with your father. I'm responsible for you, and while you're under my roof, you'll follow my rules." She stands up, facing Buffy. "Now, sit down and finish your breakfast!"

"No, I won't! I'm going to see my dad, I don't care what you say!"

"Buffy, chill. Don't talk to your mom like that…" Faith speaks up from the end of the table.

"Shut up!" Buffy turns on Faith, her face red. "Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? You're not part of this family. You're nothing. I heard you…"

"Buffy, be quiet!" Joyce is at the end of her tether. "Sit down, and stop acting like a child!"

"…trash talking my dad, " Buffy continues, ignoring Joyce. "I heard you call him a creep and a pig. Well, he isn't . He's my dad, and he loves me… unlike anyone at this fucking table!"

"Buffy! Don't use that language at the…"

"Shut UP, mom! You listen to her, and she's what? Some boarder? God, you listen to anyone but me! I'm tired of it! I'm almost 18 years old, and I'm not listening to you or anyone. Especially not some dumb ass no-nothing like her!" She turns back to Faith. "Why don't you get out of here? No one wants you here! You're nothing, hear me? Nothing!"

"Elizabeth Anne Summers. You apologize to Faith this instant! She's just concerned about you!"

"The hell I will! You both hate me! You just want to ruin my life. I'm tired of it. I hate you BOTH!"

Buffy turns around, and storms upstairs. A few seconds later, a door is heard slamming very loudly.

Joyce Summers starts after her. "Elizabeth Anne Summers, get your butt back down here this instant! Do you hear me!"

" Joyce, let it go."

"No, I won't stand by and let her insult you and me…"

"Just let her be. She was right. I don't have a say here, and I stuck my nose in. Promise, that'll be the last time."

"God, I don't get her… I just don't understand…"

She stopped when a crash, much closer occurs. She looks over and sees Dawn staring at the wall, where she's thrown her bowl.

"Dawn… what are you doing?" Joyce stares at her, amazed.

Dawn stands up. Her face is pale, with bright red spots in her cheeks. Her lips are trembling.

"It figures. Buffy has another of her famous temper tantrums, and it all becomes about Buffy. Well, I miss dad, too! But I don't throw fits. But she gets all the attention, and everyone acts like I'm not here! I'm so tired of every meal being ruined by my bratty sister. God, I hate this place!"

She pushes her way out from the corner, and runs to the door.

"Dawn Marie Summers! Where do you think…"

"I'm going someplace, anyplace that isn't a madhouse all the time!"

Dawn disappears through the front door, slamming it behind her.

"Dawn… honey…" Joyce subsides, standing and staring at the front door. Joyce is beyond shocked; Dawn is always the calm, reasonable one. She can't remember the last time Dawn lost her temper.

Joyce turns to Faith, who's standing up and walking towards the front door.

"Faith, where are you going?" Joyce suddenly feels adrift at sea, without a lifeboat or lifejacket, clinging desperately to a piece of driftwood. "Don't leave, please?"

"After Dawn. I'll try to catch up to her and talk to her… then I got stuff I gotta do."

"Faith, please… don’t go!" Joyce starts after her.

"I'm not needed here, Joyce. I'll see ya later."

Before Joyce can stop her, she's out the door. The door almost slams in Joyce's face.

She stands there, not knowing which way to turn. She hugs herself, feeling suddenly very cold and alone.

Joyce finally walks into the dining room. She walks over to where Dawn threw her bowl up against the wall, and kneels down, picking up the shards of glass. Trembling from the emotional turmoil, she fumbles one of the shards in her hand, cutting herself.

It's all too much. Everything, from last night and this morning, overwhelm her. She starts to shake and sob. Leaning against the dining room wall, she just lets it all out.

It's just another wonderful morning at the Summer's house. She thinks, when she finally regains control. What else could go wrong?

Still sniffling, she stands up and heads towards the kitchen.

5

"Hey, c'mon, Dawnie. Wait up!"

Faith is trotting after Dawn, who's striding quickly down Revello drive towards Adams.

"Go 'way, Faith," Dawn calls back over her shoulder. "Really not looking for a lecture…"

"Hey, not looking to give ya one," Faith calls out, catching up to her. "I just wanna talk to ya, kid."

"I'm not a KID!" Dawn growls angrily, striding faster.

"No, you're really not, are you?" Faith gets in front of her, trotting backwards. "Look at you, all growed up and stuff. Sometimes, I think you're the most adult of all of us." Faith grins, revealing her dimples. "I know I for one act like a kid sometimes…"

"Just go away please," Dawn waves at her, "I don't want to talk. I just want to be left alone… and stop doing that, you'll trip and hurt yourself!"

Almost as if cued, Faith's boot heel catches a crack, and she wobbles and falls , down hard on her butt.

"Damn!" Faith growls, sitting there. " Fuck!"

"Told ya," Dawn stand over her, smirking. She reaches a hand down for Faith.

Faith takes her hand, and stands up, brushing herself off. She smiles ruefully.

"Yeah, guess you did, didn't ya?" Faith gives her a sidelong glance. "Wanna talk about it now?"

"Talk about what?"

"Why you went ballistic this morning? I really think you majorly wigged your mom "

"I dunno," Dawn shrugs, "Maybe one too many Buffy tantrums. I just lost it."

"I know I haven't been around that long, but that's the first time I've ever seen you blow your top, Dawnie. I mean, I've even seen you stub your toe, and almost laugh it off. Shoot, I do that, I'd wanna kick the crap outta whatever my toe hit. It's just kinda weird seeing ya get so…"

"What's the big? Buffy has a tantrum all the time. No one seems to make a deal outta it anymore. What? I can't get like pissed off once in awhile?" She starts rocking back and forth on her feet. "Look, I gotta motor, ok? I'll talk to you later…" She starts off.

"Hey, c'mon, don't run off. I'm kinda worried about you," Faith starts trotting beside her. "You're mom's worried, too."

"Well, that's new," Dawn says, edgily. "Maybe you gotta become a total brat like Buffy to … aw, forget it…" She starts walking faster.

"Dawn, what?" Faith reaches out and grabs her arm, pulling her back. "Talk to me, kiddo."

"Let me go, ok?" Dawn shakes her off. "What's the point, anyway?"

"Dawn, how's anyone gonna know what's wrong if you don't tell us?"

"Aw, who cares, really?"

"Dawn! Your mom cares. I care!"

"Do ya? Really?" Dawn looks at her skeptically. "Coulda fooled me. I mean, it's always about Buffy, isn't it? Poor Buffy, she's had it so hard, she's so troubled, blah, blah, blah. Gimme a break, ok? Think I liked moving here? Think I didn't have friends, a boyfriend, back in L.A.? Yeah, sure, I've met some good guys here, like Willow and Xander…" She smiles a little at that, "… but still, this wasn't easy for me. I had a life there, too. I hated moving here. But because I didn't throw a royal fit like her Majesty Princess Buffy, everyone thinks things are just totally cool with me. No one bothers to see if I'm doing ok, or if maybe I'm feeling lost or alone or don't know what to do or how to fit in here or nothing."

"Dawn, geeze, I'm sorry …"

"Oh, man, Faith, it's not your job. I mean, believe me, since you've been here, it's been better; really it has. I mean I know if I go to you with something, you won't be distracted by Buffy, or look at me like I'm a moron, like Buffy does. But still… I mean, it's always about her! God, she's always making things harder. Doesn't she get it that mom's got a lot going on? She doesn't think. It's just me, me, me with her.

God, like last night. I came home, dragging Xander with, cuz I felt sorry for her, being all alone on a Friday night. I thought we'd keep her company. Then I find her with Dad. Like, couldn't she have called me telling me dad was there? Like, maybe I'd like to see them too? Anyway, I get there, and she gives me this look. Like she wants me to drop dead or something. Even dad looked at me kinda funny." She shivers, thinking about it. "I don't know what that was about. It passed, but it's just so typical. Buffy never thinks about anyone else, but everyone better damn well think about her, you know? I'm tired of it. I'm tired of her crap, and today was just another … aw, what's the point? Nothing's going to change…" She frowns. Her arms are crossed over her chest.

"Dawn, did anything happen last night? I mean between your dad and you and Buffy?"

"Huh? No!" Dawn answers quickly. Then she thinks a little, and turns frowns deeper. "Just… well, when I came in… have you ever like gone someplace, you know, walked in on friends or something, and there's something not right? God, this is hard… but I mean, you feel something in the air, like they were doing something they shouldn't… god, this is lame… I'm just saying last night, when Xander and I walked in, I felt… weird… oh, I don't know. I'm probably hallucinating…"

"Something weird? Like what?"

"I don't know, it was just weird, you know? Dad had this funny look on his face, like he was…" Dawn furrows her brows. "Like he was guilty or something. And Buffy had this angry red face thing going… "


"You think they had a fight?"

"No, it's weird. I mean, that's what it should've been with the like tension… but they didn't seem angry at each other… oh, god, I don't know… I'm no Sherlock, you know, it was just … off."

Faith gets a weird feeling, but she can't put her finger on it.

"Did you talk to your mom about it?"

"No… I mean, I was sorta gonna, but I … look, I miss my dad too, you know? And I kinda want to see him, and if I say something was weird, mom'll probably not want to let us see him…"

"Still, Dawnie, you should tell her if you think something's going on."

"God, aren't things psycho enough? Maybe I was just surprised at seeing dad, and I'm all off. I don't want to … no, I don't think there was really anything…"

"Dawn…"

"No! It was nothing, ok? I probably just a little pissed at her because she probably wouldn't have told me dad was there, and I would've missed him if I hadn't come home, and I'm imagining things, ok? Just let it go…"

" I dunno if I can, Dawn. I mean, if you don't tell her, I probably should…"

"Faith, c'mon! Please, don't tell her. It's nothing, really. And I won't get to see my dad, and I really want to … please, just keep this between us, ok?" Dawn is almost pleading with her. "C'mon, please?"

Faith stands there, conflicted.

On one hand, she's a little upset by what Dawn told her. With the way Buffy acted this morning, and from what Joyce has told her about their relationship of late, she's afraid something might be going down that would really hurt Joyce. God, what if Buffy is planning to bolt? Maybe go live with her dad… I mean, for real? She's always threatening it. What if he's like agreeing? I could see that prick doing it, just to hurt Joyce.

On the other hand, she sees Dawn standing here, right here and now, almost begging her to keep quiet. And she feels for her. She gets it. I'd love to see my mom and dad again, without all the crap, if I could. But they won't even see me… I don't want to queer it with her and her dad… but… damn, look at her. She's a smart kid. She won't do anything stupid.

Man, I know I'm gonna regret this!

"Ok, ok," Faith puts up her hands. "I'll keep quiet… for now. But if you think anything really weird is going on, Dawn, you gotta tell your mom. I mean it. Ok? I'm not kidding here, babe. I don't want something to happen that could hurt you or Buffy or your mom, just because we didn't say anything. We gotta deal?"

"Deal," Dawn smiles, and Faith smiles too. Dawn comes over, and before Faith can stop her, hugs Faith and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

"Well, damn," Faith jokes, grinning broadly, "Iffen I knew I was gonna get a kiss outta it, I would've agreed sooner."

"You goof," Dawn punches her lightly on the arm. "Thanks." She cocks her head to the side and smiles mischievously. "Anyway, aren't I little young for you?"

"What, you calling me a grandma now?" Faith pretends to be offended.

"Oh, no not at all…" Dawn smiles enigmatically. "I just got the idea you were into older women."

"Huh?" Faith stands there, a little stunned.

Oh yeah, I knew it. Oh yeah!

"What the hell you talking about, kiddo?"

"Oh… nothing…" Dawn is still smirking. She glances at her watch. "Will you look at the time. I so gotta go." She turns, and walks away. " Bye, bye, Faith." She calls over her shoulder.

"Hey…"

But Dawn has turned a corner, and is gone.

Faith looks after her, hands on hips. There's the faintest grin on her face.

Shaking her head, she turns and heads downtown.

6

"This. is. NOT. right!"

The young man paced quickly back and forth in the side wing to the gallery, gesticulating wildly at the paintings on the walls, at the pieces of sculpture on stands, and at Joyce. It was obvious that he was very passionate about the point he was trying to make.

"Georges, please, calm down," Joyce said, trying to smooth over his temper. She wasn't having much success.

"Calm down? You want me to calm down?" Georges stops, and stands staring at her. "After what you've done with my work? How, HOW am I to calm down?"

Georges Zelle, a local artist, is nothing if he's not passionate. Tall, whip-thin and angular, every bit of him seemed to need to move restlessly, driven by a deep well of restless energy which was his hallmark. His long narrow face, with an aquiline nose, almond shaped eyes slightly tilted up, and slightly pointed chin give the first impression of him being a slightly demented elf.

Right now, he seemed to be an angry elf, his eyes flashing and his mouth drawn down in almost fierce frown. He shakes his main of raven colored hair. His every gesture sings out his unhappiness.

"How could you do this to me, Joyce?" He sighs as if losing his last friend. "How could you shunt my work into some little dark corner to be ignored and overlooked? Even as powerful as my work is, it can't call out to be seen from this dank, dark little corner."

"Dank, dark little corner?"

Joyce looks around at the side wing of the main gallery. Most of the section is devoted to Zelle's works: His paintings cover the walls, and his sculptures are prominently displayed. The lighting is subdued, to be sure, but dark by no means. Each light has been carefully hung to complement and highlight the works. The overall effect is to emphasize the subdued power of each work. Joyce is somewhat puzzled by Zelle's reaction.

"I'm simply not understanding what you're driving at, Georges. I've devoted this whole area to your work, arranging them carefully by subject to play off each other. The whole section gives over to the mood I see emanating from your work. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? Are you blind, Joyce? My work needs to breathe; it can't survive hidden in the shadows. It needs to reach out and grab the viewer before he or she has a chance to minimize it, categorize it and file it away. Its power is subsumed back here. No one will see it!"

"Georges, you know I love your work…" Joyce sighs internally. Artists! You can't please them, and you can't shoot them! "… but your subjects are controversial…"

"As they should be. As anything that calls itself ART should be! How can it be art if it…"

"Yes, Georges, I know your passion on the subject," Joyce cuts in, forestalling yet another lecture on art according to Zelle, "… but you have to understand that not all my clients… not even a majority… appreciate your vision. Some would find it offensive…"

"Philistines! The brainless, the ones who consider Norman Rockwell great art!" Georges almost spits out the words.

Of course, Georges, " Joyce tries to calm him, "but nonetheless, they are a good portion of my business, and I have to please them as well…." She walks over to a painting called "Nude bound" showing a woman, headless, wrapped naked in barbed wire, set against a blasted plain somewhere in some desert. "This one, for instance. If I had this out front… I can just imagine the reaction…"

"How can you, Joyce? You know this is a statement on the objectification of Women in our society, how they are looked at as objects to be used and disposed of. Certainly you can see that!"

"OF course, Georges," Joyce placates, "but it still would be very disturbing for a number of my clients. I love your work, Georges, and I want to display it. But I don't want my other clients upset by being assaulted by it first thing. There's a market for your work… aren't you happy with the sales I've produced for you?"

"Yes, yes, yes, of course, of course," Georges says, almost impatiently, "but it's not about money, Joyce. It's about exposure, getting my message out there…"

"And it's getting out there, Georges," Joyce insists, "but even you have to live, Georges. And I need to live, also. And … I need my clients, all of them, to live…" She smiles winningly at him. "I need to display your work with others like it…"


"There are no others like it…" Georges gestures, sweepingly taking in his exhibition. "Mine is like no other. It speaks boldly, proudly, passionately! It's not decoration, Joyce, it's ART!"

"I meant, Georges, others of a similar nature. Others that have something to say, as well, and speaks to a sophisticated palate. One that can appreciate fully your work and passion."

Georges stands still, almost as if in a tableau, legs spread widely, hands steepled together in front of his mouth, as if in supplication. Even so, his puts out an aura of restless motion.

"Yes, yes, I see…" He says quietly, looking around. "Yes, a place apart, where it calls to the true aficionado of ART, one who sees and breathes and smells and tastes the passion, the raw energy of my work. Yes… not mocked by the philistines, but admired, loved by those who can only love the truth I reveal…" He impulsively goes over and hugs Joyce, clasping her to him in a strong embrace. "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! I knew I was right to allow you to show my work to the world. You obviously have the soul of an artiste, Joyce."

"Thank you, Georges," Joyce smiles. She gently extricates herself from his grip. " I'm pleased you're pleased."

"Yes, yes, of course you are," He slowly pans over his work, nodding approvingly. "But I must be off! I'm in the middle of a new work, and time spent here is stolen from my latest child." He turns, striding off towards the main entrance to the gallery. "Keep up the brilliant work, Joyce. I will have more for you very, very soon."

Without another word, he almost bursts out through the front doors, turning and disappearing in a quick stride down the street.

Joyce stands there, watching him go, a rueful and slightly bemused grin on her face.

God, if ever the stereotype of the temperamental artist exists, it's Georges Zelle! She chuckles softly, turning back to his work. Still, he's good. Very good. There is a power to his work. But…

George Zelle has been with Joyce ever since she opened the gallery in Sunnydale. He was her first 'show', which had mixed reactions in both local and metropolitan reviewers that were on hand for the show. Since then, she has devoted this little section of the gallery to his work.

And every 3-4 weeks, like clockwork, Georges Zelle shows up, to rage at the 'dank, dark' corner that she 'hides' his work in.

It's as if his brain can only hold things for a month, then cleans it out, and he has to start all over again. It would be almost funny, if it weren't so tiring at times!

Sighing, she moves on to the other 'controversial and experimental' artists she has in this section, and stops at another, smaller display.

This one features a grad student over at UC Sunnydale, one who paints nudes. They are more impressionistic than realistic; yet in some ways they remind her of Faith's nudes… the few she saw while in Boston.

She chuckles a little when she remembers her extreme embarrassment the first time she walked in on Faith painting her nudes. How she thought something else, something very personal and private was going on, and how… admit it, Joyce. Even then, you were jealous. You just didn't want to acknowledge it… surprised she was. And how pleased she was when she realized that Faith was truly talented…

Thinking of Faith brings back the memories of last night and this morning, and all the attendant frustration and confusion.

Why is she acting so … chilly towards me? I don't get it. Ever since the club, and everything that happened. She seems … distant… but what did I do? How did I offend her? I must've offended her… but… I just don't understand…


It must be about Henry and his wanting to see the kids. But why would she be so angry about that? I can only figure that she doesn't trust him. Well, neither do I! But I know he wouldn't harm Buffy or Dawn. He loves them. He's not great as a man, not a great dad, that's for sure. But he does love them, and they love him. It's not fair to them to deny them access to their own father…

Joyce almost jumps when a hand touches her shoulder. Whirling around, she almost for a second thinks it might be Faith. A broad smile quickly fades when she sees it's only Taylor.

"Oh, hi, Taylor. You startled me. What's up?"

"Are you ok, Joyce? You seemed a little lost…"

"I'm fine, "Joyce puts on a smile," it's just Georges, in to complain how we're exhibiting him, again… you know how that goes." She shrugs. "He always makes me feel a little lost…"

"Oh, sure. I heard him. That's why I waited to come over…"

"Taylor, you can't let Georges intimidate you. He's all bluster and fire, but essentially harmless."

"He's a fruitcake, Joyce. Certified."

"I agree. But a talented fruitcake, nonetheless." Joyce puts a hand on Taylor's arm. "So, what did you want?"

"Someone's waiting for you in your office…"

"Someone? A client?" Joyce straightens up a little. "You should've come for me sooner."

"Well, not exactly…" Taylor nods with her head towards the office.

Joyce looks, and her smile broadens when she sees Faith standing just inside the office door, looking a little lost herself.

"Thank you, Taylor," Joyce touches her arm.

"No prob, Joyce," Taylor says. "Did you guys have a fight or something?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, you seemed kind of distracted when you came in today, and then she shows up, and she's carrying a rose, and she has that look Billy always gets when he's sorry for being the perfect jackass."

Joyce just squeezes her arm, and strides quickly towards her office.

"Hello, you," Joyce says, walking into the office, closing the door behind her.

"Hey," Faith says. She's clutching a beautiful red rose. "Thought you might like this…" Faith holds out the rose to Joyce.

"It's lovely. Thanks," Joyce takes and puts the rose in a vase on her desk. "So, you're not upset with me anymore?"

Faith blushes a little. "I was being a dick. I'm sorry." She shrugs. "Just, with everything that happened last night I was kinda upset in general…"

"It's ok, I understand," Joyce smiles, relieved that Faith seems herself. "About last night…"

"Hmmm?"

"Well, I thought about it a lot, and I've come to a decision about Hank and Buffy and Dawn." She sits behind her desk. "I think I'm going to let him see them more. He's their father, and they miss him. It’s not fair of me to come between them."

Faith stands there a moment, looking at Joyce. She frowns a little.

"Joyce, do you really think that's the best idea?" Faith leans on the desk. "This is Hank we're talking about. The same Hank that tried to break us up, and threatened to take the kids away from you. Do you really think you can trust him?"

"Normally, I can't trust Henry further than I can throw him. Believe me, I know he's a bastard of the first order. But this is different, Faith. Bad as he is, he does love Buffy and Dawn. He wouldn't hurt them."

"He might pull something, Joyce. Try to turn them against you…"

"Were you there this morning? Buffy is already against me. I don't think anything he could say would change things."

"What about Dawn?"

"I know Dawn got upset this morning, but I think that has more to do with us fighting all the time, more than anything. Normally, she's a pretty level headed kid. I don't think she'd buy any crap Hank could come up with."

"But what if he tries to take them away again?"

"Why would he? He gets to see them, and if I deny him any visitation, he might get desperate and try a lawsuit. Not that he'd win," Joyce touches the locked drawer of her desk. "I've got enough evidence to ruin him if he ties anything. But the legal fees and all would be murderous. Never mind how it would effect Buffy and Dawn. No, I think he should see them. He wants it, and they want it. And it might calm things down at home."

"Well, what if he kidnaps them or something? I mean, he could do it. It's happened before!"

"Faith, the one thing I can count on with Hank, is that he's greedy. Stupid, sure, but more greedy than stupid. He runs with the kids, and he gives up any share he has in his business. He has to go in hiding, and frankly, I don't think he'll think it's worth giving everything up for them." She frowns, a slight bitter edge comes to her voice. "He hasn't done it up to now, has he?" She shakes her head. "No, I know he won't do that. I think this is the best way."

"But, Joyce…"

"Faith," Joyce reaches out, covering Faith's hand. "I appreciate your concern. I do. I think it's sweet. But really, there's nothing to be concerned about. It's going to be all right."

"Joyce, there's something else."

"What?" Joyce looks at Faith intently. "Is there something you know?"

"Not know so much…" Faith sighs.

She tells Joyce about her conversation with Dawn earlier, specifically the part about Dawn coming in and finding Buffy and Hank alone.

"… she said she felt something was off, there. They both looked guilty, and flushed."

"Did she think they'd had a fight?"

"No, she said they didn't seem angry with each other. More, they seemed upset with Dawn and Xander showing up. At least, that's how she felt about it…" Faith looks down at the desk. "She thought Buffy in particular seemed upset, giving her dirty looks and stuff…"

Joyce gets an acidy feeling in her stomach.

"Faith, what are you trying to say?" Joyce demands, feeling upset but not knowing why.

"I'm not trying to say anything, really, Joyce," Faith backpedals a little. "Just, I don't know if letting Hank be alone with the girls is such a good idea…"

Joyce gets the message, and doesn't like the message one bit.

"Faith, please tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking…"

"Well, Joyce," Faith sighs. God, this is hard. "… he does like younger women…"

"Oh my god, Faith," Joyce sounds stunned. "How can you… how can you even think something like that? That's… SICK!" Joyce shudders.

"Joyce, look at the facts…"

"No, no way. That's just… no. Henry's a bastard on many levels. I really don't like him, Faith. I admit that. But to think he'd … oh my god, that's beyond … no, I've heard enough."

"Joyce, please listen. I'm not saying…"

"You're exactly saying that. Or implying it. And I won't listen to it. Hank is no angel, but he would never do something like that…"

"Joyce, please…"

"NO! Enough, Faith," Joyce's face colors. "I know you hate Hank, Faith, and I don't blame you. But this is …"

"You think I'm making this up?" Faith pushes off the desk, her face astonished. "You think I'd make something like this up?"

"I think you're confused. I think you've got it wrong, is all."

"And I think you're wearing blinders, Joyce. It's an ugly world, and people do ugly things."

"Enough!" Joyce stands up, "This is my family, Faith. Not yours. I make the decisions about my family. Not you. Understand?"

Joyce walks over and grabbing a glass, pours some water out of the water bottle in her office. Her hand is shaking.

"This is none of your concern," She says, then drinks the water.

Faith stands there, feeling as if she's been hit by a twenty pound sledge hammer. Slowly, the color drains out of her face.

"So, that's it, right? That's what it's all about, isn't it?" She says quietly, almost whispering it. "That's the whole thing, aint it, Joyce?"

Joyce turns around, a little startled in the change of tone in Faith's voice.

"What're you talking about?"

”Your family, Joyce. Your family," Faith says softly, looking at Joyce intensely. "I'll never be part of that, will I?"

"Faith, you're not making sense. Of course you're part of the family…"

"No, I'm really not, Joyce."

Faith looks at the woman standing across from her. Her anger builds, flowing through her body like hot molten metal.

"That's the really harsh thing, Joyce. I'll never be a part of your family, and I'm just now getting that."

"Faith, you're talking crazy. Stop it."

"Crazy? Oh yeah, Joyce, I gotta be crazy. Thinking this would every happen. Shit, what the hell was I thinking? " Faith shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "God, Paulie warned me, and I was too fucking stupid to listen. I'm not real to you. I'm not someone you wanna be with. Grow with, grow old with. Shit, I'm just a little play toy, aint I? You're little dirty secret... you're too fucking ashamed of me to want to be seen with me. God, how fucking dumb can I get?"

"Stop it, Stop IT! I love you, Faith. You know I love you!"

"Really, Joyce? Cuz, I gotta say, I'm not seeing it. I'm seeing you pretending like I'm nothing but the roommate, babe." Faith paces around, trying to work off the angry energy building up. " You don't love me to fight for me, Joyce. To stand up and say 'Hey, I love this girl, screw you if you don't like it'. Not enough to respect me Joyce, " Faith whirls around, and coming to the desk, leans over it. "All I see is me being shoved aside when the important stuff comes along!" She draws back, and hits herself on the forehead. "Dumb ass! God, I'm an idiot! What the hell was I expecting? You couldn't even be bothered to find out if I was ok after you dumped me in Salem!"

"I did wonder. I cared. I just couldn't…"

"What? Call me? Were the phones being monitored or something?"

"What about you? You knew my number, knew where I lived. You never once called me, asking if I was all right." Joyce retorted. "I was scared and alone and I didn't understand what was happening to me. All I knew was my life was gray and meaningless…"

"I came across the country to find you, Joyce. To be with you." Faith said simply. "Left home, left my friends, pretty much cut off my family forever. For you!" She walks around, her nerves near breaking. "God, I agreed to anything you wanted, to be with you. I even live in that crappy room in the basement. Think I like that? Think that's neat? God, it blows. You come down there when you want me, then forget about me when you don't!"

"No, that's not true!" Joyce feels her own anger rising. "You think this has been easy for me? I don't even know what I am anymore. Gay, straight, in between… it's all so confusing. And I've got Buffy going crazy, and Hank acting like an asshole, making my life hell, and my business and it's all too much! I can't handle it all alone!"

"Don’t you get it Joyce? That's what I'm trying to tell you, been trying to show you. But you don't see it. I'll help you. I'll make it better if you let me..." She turns, looking into Joyce's eyes. "… but you won't. You don't see me as anything but some … really, I don't know what… but I know I can't live like this, go on like this. I'm can't stand what I feel like, Joyce. I really can't. I can't live feeling cheap and small and dirty…"

"Faith, honey, I love you!" Joyce declares, coming around the desk. "I need you!" She starts to come to Faith, to hug her. Faith stops her.

"Don't, please, don't."

"Faith?"

"You can't fix it like that. I need to be part of your life. Not living on the edges. I won't be the summer fling that thought she was more…"

"No, Faith. It's not like that. I need you, I really need you!"

"No," Faith looks at her, eyes sad, "you need someone you can respect and trust. I was pretty sure I could do that. Not so sure now" She turns, and walks to the door, grabbing the handle.

"The real kicker, Joyce? You just had to give me a little more. A little respect, treat me like you really thought I wasn't some clown," Joyce looks at her, frowning. "I would've done anything for you, Joyce. You and the girls. If you'd only..." Faith shakes her head, and starts to leave.

Joyce doesn't fight fair. She doesn't care. She's about to lose everything if Faith walks out that door. Without thought about anything, she goes over, and flings herself at Faith, wrapping her in her arms, kissing her. Trying to seduce her, get her to forget this insanity.

And for the briefest moment, it works. Faith, overwhelmed, hurting, wanting, NEEDING this, feels her resistance fade. She stands there under the barrage of kisses and caresses, feeling her resolve melt.

But something deep inside, something she's buried for a long time, screams out to resist. And she finally breaks the embrace, pushing Joyce back.

"No, I can't. Not anymore. I wish I could, Joyce. I wish I could just fall in your arms and forget all of it. But I can't"

Before Joyce can recover, Faith is out the door and gone.

Joyce feels her anger and rage, her frustration and hurt hurtle to the surface. Making a strangled noise, she turns and sweeps everything off the top of her desk. Pictures, papers, her computer monitor go crashing to the floor. She swings again, about to knock the rose Faith just gave her across the room.

Then it hits her. It's over. All over but shutting off the lights. She stares at the rose, and feels her knees go weak. Almost without realizing it, she sinks to the floor, her back now leaning against the desk she just assaulted. She sits there, feeling empty and abandoned. The whole world seems to take on a grayish tinge. As if the colors were slowly draining away.

And then the tears come in a flood, and she rolls up into a ball, and cries her heart away.

To be continued.