SUNNYDALE , MAY 1996
Not a brash or a brave man, Hank Summers nonetheless laughed at the rifle before him and the man wielding it.
"Oh, George. Please do. Cause' then we won't need to do this quietly. The whole world can know you for the baby-robber you are. Specially' those nice men in prison--they just love people that kidnap kids. LOVE EM'!"
Louise Harris screamed bloody murder, as was her habit.
"You two get out, NOW, or I swear to God I'll..."
Joyce seized her wrist, and held it down.
"The only thing either of you are doing is going in that house and getting that boy up. After that, either run or wait for the police. I honestly don't care."
Used to sealing off his room when the yelling started, a Xander Harris on summer vacation heard absolutely none of this.
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Their attorney tried to couch his words. They would hurt, no way around it. Joyce shook her head.
"What does Buffy's testimony have to do with any of this? She was a baby when the kidnapping happened. Its been over ten years since she even had a nightmare remotely linked to it."
"Joyce, Hank...if called upon, would Buffy say with certainty that her time in the mental health facility was entirely voluntary on her part?"
Hank shrugged.
"No way. One, it wasn't voluntary. Two--she is as bitter as hell about that. Even if we told her it was to get her brother back, right now I think she'd just resent us for keeping his existence a secret."
Joyce tried again.
"Jerry--why would Buffy even be on the stand? Their lawyer may be sleazy, but she knows nothing that he could impeach. Right now, she knows nothing at all."
The attorney breathed in.
"They are alleging that they kidnapped your son for fear that you two would sexually abuse him."
Oddly, Joyce smiled.
"Then they're finished, if that's all they have."
Jerry bit down before continuing.
"There are recorded instances of people who were later found to be abusers having their children committed to avoid prosecution or exposure. If he gets Buffy on the stand, he'll head there like a shot. Once the defendants have doubt on their side, juries and judges will tend to side with preserving existing family structures, no matter what else is in play."
Hank was shaking with helpless fury at the implications of what was being said. Joyce swallowed her rage.
"Tell them we'll sign the custody agreement offered. With three important changes. No negotiation on those, or we'll take our chances in court."
Among the changes was the right to move wherever they wished, relative to Xander Harris, aka Baby Boy Summers.
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The Harrises lawyer gestured at them, and they were pinned against the wall by unseen hands, made of air and as heavy as stone. Louise protested.
"But letting them move here? HERE? That defeats the whole purpose of..."
Another gesture, and her overused mouth vanished.
"It doesn't defeat any purpose of yours. You still have what you stole. And having the Slayer move within proximity of my daughter can only accelerate her awakening potential."
George looked whipped, as he did more often than not.
"You're supposed to be our lawyer, when you look like that. Can't ya just keep em out of this burg altogether?"
The man's image shuddered, and was replaced by that of Sheila Rosenberg.
"MORON! I have no innate natural abilities. I need to take a week off of my husband's life-force each time I metamorph. Eventually, even that piece of driftwood will notice he's getting older fast. So the lawyer you cannot possibly afford needs to make very brief appearances. If they sign without a trial, that's brief. Kind of like you two's sex life together."
When Louise's mouth reappeared, she spat out venom.
"Hebe Bitch!"
Sheila physically picked her up.
"Use that kind of talk again, you little nothing, and I will drop your naked body, covered with pentagram tattoos and riding a pitchfork, into the next big meeting of the United Religious Broadcasters. Kay?"
Louise shook with terror.
"Errr...that'd be bad, right?"
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Take out the other kid. It was a perfect plan. Joyce is beat. Sheila's beat. No more running. George grinned as he gained his vantage point. He pulled out his revolver, and waited.
"Should've thrown out this old refridgerator before we left LA."George rubbed his eyes. Surely that was the refridgerator box, and not the fridge itself, the girl held over her head? Must have been, because she placed, and didn't throw it, on the ground. He gauged her movements.
"Why we gotta move here, Mom? 'Oh--Buffy--its because you are such a bad kid. Such a rotten---KID!!"
George pulled back the trigger, but did not fire when he saw Buffy's fist break through the fridge's obviously steel siding. Despite her shaking the hand in pain, it was obviously neither broken nor bruised.
"Brilliant, Slayer. Oh--God. Not another nail. Perfect. Just perfect."
He could have fired, just then, to devastating effect. But George Harris now had thoughts of George Reeves, and decided not to find out if Buffy's super-strength came with other accessories. So he ran like hell.
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He would do what Joyce asked of him. He'd find a house in Sunnydale, keep close to both his children, and figure out a way to thwart the bullies. At least, that had been Hank's plan.
Another part of it had been an occasional drive-by of the 'Harris' household. A means of letting them know what had not been forgotten.
Then came the day he saw the boy--his son--stumble out of that house, holding his face, muttering something.
"Sass? I didn't sass? Geez, I don't even know what sass is."
The tears held in were not well hidden enough. Neither was Xander's black eye. His own eyes about to burst from blood pressure, Hank decided that maybe he shouldn't stay in Sunnydale, after all.
"But I'm a patient man, guys. Oh, I am soooo patient."
He drove on and didn't look back. In one year, after dropping off Buffy, he would not be seen for another five years.
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After the phone call from her daughter concerning guests, Joyce did it all. She held her hand above a candle, then submerged it in a ice-filled sink. She bit her upper lip til it bled, then dug her fingernails into her palms. She stood on tiptoe until her toes felt like they might pop off entirely. She bit her tongue, and slapped her own face.
Then, the door was knocked on, and all of her bitter work paid off. With a straight face and without collapsing into an emotional heap, Joyce greeted and met her grown son for the very first time.
"Hi, I'm Xander Harris."
To keep a difficult lie, Joyce did not smother her baby in kisses or hugs. Instead, she said in a friendly but noncommittal tone :
"Oh, you must be Buffy's friend from school. She'll be back soon."
And when a hair from his recent haircut went on her couch, Joyce recovered it and placed it next to a hair taken from Xander's head when he was newborn. Allowing Buffy to play her music a little louder than normal, Joyce cried herself to sleep that night. She dreamed of a day when the truth would be told, a day which at this point seemed like it was never gonna happen.
