AUGUST, 2002

ANAHEIM, CALIFORNIA

BREAKFAST

Dawn nodded as she, to Joyce's mind, smothered the hash browns in ketchup.

"You can ask me whatever you want. Are you kidding? I've only dreamed of having you back. I remember how you babied me, while you got sicker. I thought maybe if I only projected love, you might get better."

Joyce puzzled over this statement, until the obvious struck her in the face once again.

"Dawn, that wasn't me. I'm sorry, honey. But I met you as I pulled up to our home. The woman you remember was Jane."

Now Dawn was burying her scrambled eggs in black pepper. She glanced nervously.

"Crazy twin sister, right? How weird is that?"

Joyce bit into her english muffin before responding.

"Very, very weird. Very agonizing, too. She took over my life a total of three times. During each of those times, it was like I didn't exist at all."

Dawn actually ate some of the over-spiced mix of food, making Joyce wince.

"I'm there. I didn't exist until just after she did her third and final takeover. Buffy thinks that maybe since she was loopy, the spell that made me wiped her memories of crazy Jane away, so she was able to pass as you with no problem. I guess I never really knew either of you. But that's not new, either."

When Dawn motioned for some Mexican Hot Sauce for her food, Joyce decided it was time to start asking questions.

"How--you look so much like Buffy--are you real?"

The fork dropped onto Dawn's plate. Her upper lip began to quiver.

"Look. If you don't want me around, please just say so. I'll stay in the room, and out of your way."

But Dawn was reseated and then hugged by Joyce as quickly as she got up.

"Honey! You are a part of my baby. That makes you a treasure beyond price. I just meant to ask if you were physical or--if you were a solid memory. I'm ignorant, Dawn. Magic is not Mommy's strong suit."

Dawn poured on the hot sauce, took down a few gulps that Joyce obviously found painful to watch, then shot back.

"Neither is tact, apparently."

As Joyce moved to respond again, Dawn got in another verbal blow.

"And I'm a part of both your babies. I have both Buffy and Xander's DNA. Well, anyway, that's what Giles says."

The implications of that moved Joyce off of the subject of Dawn's tone of voice.

"The spell. It didn't make them?--cause them to---uhh, that is---"

Dawn stared cluelessly for a moment, and then her eyes went wide.

"Ewwww!! Ickkk!! I mean, its bad enough those two are sublimating all over the place. Their MOM is now asking about the deed?"

Joyce was starting to take this girl's measure, and so asserted herself.

"YOUR Mom is asking how a very special young lady entered all our lives. And I think you'll find I'm not a great appreciator of sarcasm."

Dawn downed a glass of grapefruit juice, and then tomato juice.

"I remember. Time was, anything Buffy said or did sounded or looked like sarcasm or rebellion to you. And then there were those stupid teen-handling tapes you had. I used to listen to them when I needed a laugh."

Joyce chuckled a bit, til once again the differing levels of reality at play made her think.

"You remember? But you weren't there."

Dawn tried to be patient.

"Yeah. But I don't just pick up in September of 2000 and go from there. You may not know me, but I know you. I remember leaving LA. I remember Daddy's visits getting less and less frequent. I remember being angry at Buffy for running away, and then being angry at you for not seeing how much pain she was in when she got back. I remember midnight ice cream raids. I remember the whole 'how much Slaying should Dawn see' debate. I even remember Buffy catching you when she told how Graduation Day went. You--totally fainted."

Joyce breathed in. This was the child she never had, and had never known. That would have to change. There was too much of the children she did have in Dawn.

"Ok. Let's start again with me apologizing for the 'real' question. Are we good on that?"

Dawn smiled, and held up a bottle of tabasco sauce. Joyce's eyes pleaded as the reddish spray struck Dawn's plate. Dawn nodded before starting to truly chow down.

"Good to go---Grandma."

LUNCH

Back some years ago, Xander had visited a Harris relative on the Jersey Shore, spending much of the summer helping to fix up a rental property to be rented out the next summer. The work meant long hours on hot days, but this cousin was dry and clean, and very fair. The only oddity, that he would later find out was no oddity, was this man pronouncing the family name as 'Horace'.

Subs for lunch was an everyday thing, and dinner, even when consisting of frozen entrees, was a cut above. Then came the day they all just quit, permits and zoning laws meaning that they had done all they could for then and there. Xander was actually shocked when he was included in the group to be taken to the local Six Flags amusement park. He hadn't had to beg, or try to pay his own way. His inclusion had been a casual thing, as though it had been unthinkable that a house guest would not be brought along. But the bitterness of the long bus ride home had caused him over the years not to think about the rides of that day, or of the shows seen.

Pay-One-Price Amusement Parks had a problem that most Pay-per-ride parks did not. The concession stands were typically understaffed, and all had long lines. In the present, as Joyce returned with Burgers, Fries, Onion Rings, Shakes and Sodas, Xander noted that once again. He also wondered why his thoughts were fixated on something so mundane.

"I believe that's a bacon, cheddar and guacamole burger for you as always, and a just plain ole' with onions for Mom."

That was why. Mom. This wasn't just Mrs. Summers, or Joyce, anymore. This was Mom. His real Mom. A thousand prayers and pleas of a childhood spent quietly behind a locked door as screams and threats went out in all directions had finally been answered, and in the best way possible.

"That's an awful lot of food. Didn't you eat breakfast with Dawn?"

Joyce shook her head.

"Your little sister is in our room, right now, reconsidering the variety of spices she placed on her eggs, bacon and hash browns."

"You confined her?"

"No. She's in the bathroom. For a while, I think."

Xander chuckled.

"This one time, she is going on and on about how piggy guys are when it comes to personal hygiene. Then, guess whose Taco Bell Ultra-Supreme Mixed Platter decides to take its revenge. We emptied a whole can of Lysol!"

Joyce laughed, realizing ever more that indeed, Dawn was a very real teenager.

"When was this?"

Xander shrugged.

"Not too long after the funer..."

Joyce tried to remain calm.

"Xander, I know I was declared dead. But it wasn't me."

Xander looked down.

"I wasn't talking about your funeral. I was talking about Buffy's."

While Buffy had glossed over this, Joyce was a bit confused.

"Why was there a need for a funeral? She died, but then she came back, just like when you resuscitated her. Right?"

Xander had feared this moment perhaps more than any other. The truth-telling had begun.

"Joyce, she..."

"Please call me Mom. Xander, I've ached for that since the day we found Sunnydale."

*Found* Sunnydale? Xander determined to speak to Buffy about this particular turn of phrase.

"Mom, Buffy was in the ground for almost five months. Not comatose, or in stasis, or magically kept back from death. She was dead, and as far as we knew, she wasn't ever coming back. Willow even stopped by LA to ask Faith if she wanted a magical parole. Heh. She predicted that Buffy would be back."

Xander smiled.

"You know, maybe it wasn't such a bad first time."

Joyce put her burger down.

"Faith was your first time? A Slayer?"

Xander gulped.

"Sorry. That just slipped out."

Joyce ate the other half of her burger.

"Xander, I want the truth. Have you and Buffy ever been together sexually?"

He shook his head.

"No. I told you that years ago. That--was you--wasn't it? Not your wacky cousin that looks like you with a black wig?"

Joyce sipped some soda, and then took a spoonful of shake.

"That was me. And that was years ago. There have been funerals. Rampages. Rebirths. Pain. It doesn't take much to drive two young people together. Especially people that were born together. I've read about cases where the blood relationship was not known until later. The people in question all said that part of the initial attraction lay in a feeling of familiarity. I'm not accusing you or Buffy of any sort of crime."

Xander tried hard not to glare at Joyce. His love for this woman had been the real deal long before he had known who she truly was to him.

"Buffy and I once had an attraction. Ninety percent on my side, ten percent on hers, maybe. Then came Angel, Cordelia, Willow, Faith, Parker, Riley, Anya, Spike--Anya and Spike---I think that's just about it. Boy, for hormonal young people, that's a pretty damn short list."

Joyce was sipping her soda hard.

"It felt long enough to me, dear."

"Point being, the once with the love spell and the leather jacket and her seated atop me was as close as we ever got. Period. The rest you'll have to trust us on."

Joyce smiled and put her hand on his shoulder.

"I do trust you, honey. Always."

Xander smiled, and nodded.

"Besides, except for the overtness of her attempt, she didn't go anywhere near as wild as you did. I mean, 'Xander, I don't think I can share you' while wielding an axe? If you just could have seen yourself..."

Joyce looked over at him, her eyes very wide.

"You...you told me that only the girls at the high school fell under that spell. How did I get mixed up in it?"

Xander shrank inside.

"Crap. Okay, it was any woman who saw me. You included."

Joyce put a piece of ice from the soda cup in her mouth, and crunched it in one bite.

"But I'm your mother--I knew I was your mother. How-how-how could I want you? I mean, yes, that was a major lean period in my life--thank God for Rupert--but one would think that--ahem--Xander, are there any other secrets you have to tell me?"

Xander sat silent for a moment, so Joyce asked again.

"Son--and I am very proud to call you that--we have in our brief lives demonstrated better than any family in all of human history that secrets can destroy. So no matter what it is, I want you to tell me. Now."

Xander looked directly at her.

"I had an intense dream in which I was about to do it with Tara, Willow, Anya and you. Then the First Slayer came around and cut my heart out. But we didn't actually end up ya know there either."

Joyce responded without actually responding to the actual issue.

"You poor thing. You can't even make it that far in your dreams?"

Xander dipped his fries in some ketchup, one at a time. At fifteen fries, he finally looked at Joyce once again.

"Is this how you generally talked to Buffy over the years? Cause it would explain a whole lot in the attitude department, on certain occasions."

Joyce bristled at the attitude belying this, but then also realized exactly what she had said, and what they had been talking about. She finally realized that it wasn't what she wanted them to talk about at all. She took his hand.

"Xander, losing you ended one life for me. Hank and I were never the same. Not on any level. Buffy used to cry herself to sleep, and she always left a space for you in her crib, and then bed, in case you might come back. Over the years, even as she finally pushed back the few memory fragments she had left, I could see she needed someone. Her old friends in LA were so damned fickle. Long before the Slayer, they would turn on her at a moment's notice."

Xander nodded.

"I know. I've seen it all in her thoughts."

Joyce squeezed the hand she held.

"I became so easily worried about her. I became massively overprotective. I became suspicious of her movements long before she gave me reason to. I felt I had to. I couldn't bear to somehow lose both of you--or to fail her as I had you."

Rather than counter her harsh self-assessment just yet, Xander asked a few questions.

"What about Hank--Dad?"

Joyce seemed misty about her ex-husband.

"You have to realize that he's very easy to underestimate. I fell in love with him when I realized that he'd taken the full measure of one of George Horace's high school beatings--with dear Louise holding a knife to cut off possible escape--all so that the visiting school superintendent would see the whole thing."

"This was---where?"

"Antedale. Antedale High. A school that was full of suburban snobs that behaved like inner-city kids, with all of the violence and none of the reason to be that way. I was tough, but I had no gang, which made me a target. Hank just was one. He got George and Louise and their gangs expelled when the school authorities witnessed the whole thing. He never raised a hand in his own defense, so that no one could say that he started it, or had been a part of it. Hank Summers can be very clueless as to how he seems in the eyes of others. But that mind of his is very, very good at getting even."

Xander chuckled.

"Maybe we ought to pair him off with Anya."

Joyce waved her hand in the air as she laughed.

"Stop! Do we really want to imagine that nightmare? Between the two pairing possibilities, I'll pick you and Buffy. At least psychiatric help is available on that end."

Somewhere in Las Vegas, this nightmare did not need to be imagined. Xander asked his next question.

"So just who were the Harrises? High school bullies who didn't like losing their power?"

Joyce shrugged at the simplistic yet accurate description.

"Basically. Hank warned George to stay away from him. Reminded him that each time they clashed, Hank was bloodied but George was broken, and that one day it would just have to end--or maybe he would end it. Hank had a phrase from an old novelty song he liked to sing, right in George's face, no matter how many times it got him hit : 'The Bloody Red Baron, Was In A Fix..."

Xander was again shocked by just how much of the odd man he'd only met a month ago was in him. He completed the line.

"...He'd Tried Everything, But He'd Run Out Of Tricks.' I used to love that song. But Dad hated---Dad hated everything. So did Mom. Because that's who they really weren't! My God, I was living with my kidnappers. I didn't have to have them as a part of me. I didn't have to be such a complete pile of damaged goods."

Joyce rose, sat on the side of the table he was on, and embraced him as she had always meant to. And now, there were no thieves waiting to snatch him, or warn her off.

"Damaged goods, my ass."

She kissed his forehead, and held him as tears flowed from two sets of eyes.

"You're my baby."

================================================

DINNER

Joyce had known from the start that her talk with Buffy would be the most difficult. Dawn was the child she never had. Xander was the child she had lost. But Buffy was hers, raised by her, a living symbol of her strengths and all her flaws. Hank's hidden strength for strategy was there, too. But if fate made the Slayer, it was Joyce alone who made the young girl that fate chose.

All that said, Buffy's opening words were still stunning.

"You lied to me."

Just how many times, Joyce wondered, had the two exchanged that particular phrase? It stung, she decided. It stung badly.

"Which lie is this?"

But Buffy merely sat there, implacably playing a game that probably wasn't healthy, but was going to get played anyway. Joyce sighed, and tried to guess her way through the minefield.

"This is about keeping quiet about Xander, isn't it? I'll admit, both your father and I could have handled that better. But our attorney was so convinced that your time in the clinic could have been used against us in court. After a certain amount of time had passed, I almost gave up on ever telling either of you. I even became afraid that the Harrises might kill him, rather than let him go."

Buffy finally spoke.

"Neither Xander nor I hold you or Daddy responsible for what those scum did. You handled them as well as any one could ever hope to."

Joyce noted the strained formality. The girl was angry, to be certain.

"Speaking for your brother, are you?"

Buffy tapped the side of her head.

"Kind of a hazard of our new/old condition."

Joyce winced a bit. Again, something that she had been made lightly aware of now came more fully into view.

"What's it like? I mean, last time something like this happened, you nearly went insane."

Buffy fought off a smile, as though trying hard to keep her grim demeanor intact.

"This telepathy is the exact opposite. We can shut each other out, but we rarely ever choose to. Its a comfort. Its like facing the big scary playground together, knowing that as long as there's the two of us, we'll always be safe. I've never once felt that way. Neither has he. Did it ever feel that way for you and Jane?"

Joyce shook her head.

"No. Never. Is that the lie you can't forgive? That I had this outrageous family situation and couldn't figure out how to tell you?"

Buffy again surprised and frustrated her.

"Well, in that she presented a potential danger to us, I guess. Then again, a life-grabbing twin sis is too weird for words."

Joyce was fighting off the urge to deal with her tensions with another heavy meal. The grilled chicken caesar's salad before her was going to have to suffice. But other things were proving to be vastly insufficient.

"No! You cannot sit there, accuse me of lying, then casually shoot down the lies that I freely admit to, and that you seem to agree with about their necessity. Dammit, you owe me that much."

Buffy nodded.

"Okay. You want it? Here it is. You lied to me about why we moved to Sunnydale."

Joyce tried to reason this one out.

"How? How am I supposed to have lied about our move? Or is this part of some new reality from out of a spell or a demon's blood?"

Buffy looked to be carved out of stone.

"Funny. That kind of dismissive little statement, as much as it rips my guts out just to hear it, is my best proof that you are who you say you are."

Joyce felt herself petrify as well, though not in fear.

"Well, as usual, you picked a hell of a time to confirm that kind of thing. Now are you going to dance around, or are you going to tell me about this supposed lie?"

Buffy nodded.

"Oh, there's nothing supposed about it. You told me that we moved to Sunnydale because we needed a fresh start after the hell I raised in LA, or words to that effect."

Without fully realizing it, Joyce bit into one of her breadsticks before responding.

"Etvas--Ahem--It was hard finding a good school in a decent town--or one that looked a lot like a decent town. Last time I let Pat's little brother serve as my real estate agent."

Buffy continued.

"If they had let me stay in our little corner of the LA educational system, could we have afforded to buy a house in that area, once you and Dad sold the old one, after the divorce?"

Joyce heard a snap, and realized it was the breadstick she'd been holding.

"Well, maybe not an ideal one. Certainly not as nice as the one we found in Sunnydale."

Buffy now began to lightly smile.

"Didn't your client base back home fall off as a result of the divorce? Dad's friends blamed you. People who were both your friends didn't want to choose sides. Some of your own friends were apparently worried that the divorcee might target their men. I am way off on that?"

Joyce felt large crumbs in her hands.

"No. I just don't see the relevance of what you're talking about."

Buffy looked directly in her eyes.

"How large a factor in our move was Xander's being in Sunnydale? I mean, you'd found your son. My brother. That had no play in this?"

Joyce shook her head.

"Of course it played a role. Yes, I wanted to be near my little boy, and maybe keep the animals that stole him honest! Buffy, what are you gettig at?"

"What am I getting at? All right. There were a whole bunch of reasons for the two of us moving to Sunnydale, and the move was not this wretched, horrendous, life-draining hardship on you. But Mom, for that first year, to hear you tell it, I'd ruined our entire life and practically put you in the poor house! There were all these factors that were not me making us move, and yes, there was some of what I did, too. But it was never all me."

Joyce felt the crumbs slip out of her hands.

"Why are you bringing this up now?"

Buffy shrugged.

"Because I can and do understand your not telling me about Xander. But Mom, the one necessary lie makes me suddenly look at all the lies that weren't needed. The same woman who told me the divorce wasn't my fault was also telling me that everything else was. And it was kind of hard at times to separate the two. You told me what you did about our move to make yourself feel better. Everytime I think about the crappy way I've sometimes treated my friends, thinking of Buffy first and last, I wondered where the hell this came from. Now we know, don't we?"

Joyce was suddenly glad she'd skipped a heavy meal.

"Mommy's not perfect, honey."

Buffy's features now seemed like cold metal.

"Duck and cover. Just like they taught you in school."

Joyce now felt badly lost.

"What? You're not making any sense."

Buffy was seemingly starting to shake apart as she kept on.

"You don't want sense. You want to be right, no matter what. I'm not perfect, either, but that only gets me forgiveness with a running tab. You screw up, you get both forgiveness and a clean slate. My lies hurt our relationship. Your lies were all proper. My running away was scummy. Your telling me not to come back was just stress."

Joyce tried not to make a spectacle, but that was becoming more and more difficult with each turn.

"I told you before. The one who gave you the ultimatum about slaying or leaving was Jane! Buffy, I was freshly locked away when she pulled that."

Buffy seemed a trifle calmer, but no more sympathetic.

"How was I supposed to know that? You're allowed to keep your own business, Mom. But if you choose not to tell me about this other person, if you choose out of necessity to lie about my twin and your own, then don't expect me to just understand everything by way of information I never knew about. If you don't tell me about Jane, Xander, or whatever---then don't make sweeping statements about my wrongs that I have no hope of even responding to properly. God, I know how hard its been for you. Since Jane got sick, and then died, with us thinking she was you--I've had to be you, and I've done an absolutely rotten job at it. I was ten times as moody and bitter on my best day as you were on your worst day."

Joyce closed her eyes.

"Why all this here? Why now?"

Buffy's eyes were tearing.

"Because if I hold back in anything of how I feel about you, good or bad, and then you suddenly go away again---"

Joyce saw her face crumple.

"--then I'm just gonna crawl back into my grave, because that's all I'll be worth. I love you, Mommy. But this time, I have to tell you everything. Before the next disaster. Before the next stray arrow, or fireball. Don't you see? If I don't tell you how the bad things you did hurt me--you'll never know that its because I hold your opinion of me as sacred."

Joyce felt her heart in her throat.

"You told me what a rotten job you did being me. But Buffy--all I am is you that's been on the job a while longer. From where I'm sitting--you did great. The house is still there, you've raised a sis-dau-well, she's just a little Ang--Cherubim."

Buffy chuckled. Joyce shrugged.

"Seraphim?"

Buffy tried to finish up. Of course, life never allows for such clean breaks.

"Xander has an awakened ability to negate magic-based powers with his touch. Guess that has some pretty heavy implications, in our world. When he touches me, I become just a girl again. But you've always had that pow---"

Joyce raised an opened hand.

"Wait. Your brother has powers?"

"Well, no. He has the power to take away other powers."

Joyce nodded.

"And then he can use them himself?"

Buffy shook her head.

"No. He just negates them. Then the demons are like human-level strength, speed, etc."

"And then he gains super-strength like yours?"

"NO--no. Xander is then able to fight them on an equal basis. His only power is to take away magic-based powers. Its somehow his right as the acknowledged twin brother of the Slayer."

Joyce kept on.

"Well, why isn't he a Slayer? If you were born together, I don't see why he doesn't have super strength, too."

"Mom--men aren't Slayers. Only women. We've been through this before."

"Dear--it just seems unfair that you can overpower your brother so easily. It could give him a complex."

Buffy tried again.

"Mom--he can totally negate my powers, too. We're equal."

"Buffy, I'm just not good on this women-only clause. I mean, its sounds all empowering on the surface, but really, its just some people's way of keeping us in our own club. Have you ever tried letting your brother be The Slayer? Because if you did, I think you might find out..."

Inside, Buffy boiled over, and then began to laugh quietly while Joyce kept on expounding in her wholly inimitable way. Sensing this while intravenously feeding Dawn antacid back at the motel, her twin shot off a mental question.

*Hey, Buff? Everything alright there?*

She chuckled again.

*Everything's fine again, Xander.*

Xander saw an image of the now non-stop Joyce talking away, and smiled as Buffy spoke one last time before getting to her dinner.

*Mommy's Back.*