SERIES TITLE  : Monterey.
CHAPTER/TITLE : 1/9 Ball and Chain, Part 2/3.
AUTHOR        : Black Widow
EMAIL         : bw@l...
FEEDBACK      : Please? Pretty please? Fucking gimme!
SUMMARY       : The jumbled thoughts of a woman in turmoil.
SPOILERS      : None.
RATING        : G.
PAIRING       : Gen Fic.
DISCLAIMER    : The characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant
                Enemy, Kuzui, Sandollar, and Greenwolf Productions, 20th
                Century Fox, the WB Network, and whoever else may have a
                hold on them. The situation is wholly mine, and I do
                not mean to infringe upon any copyrights.
ARCHIVE/DIST  : You want it, take it. Just send me an email to let me know
NOTES         : This series is set just after the start of season 4.
                Guilt tinged with bitterness in a sackful of loneliness
                painted with despair. Now that would have been a good
                summary. This chapter now has 3 parts to it.


Joyce stayed at her desk. The radio was on and she just let it play,
hearing without really listening, not caring anymore whether the music
was going to upset her or not. Staring out the window, watching
without seeing as people walked past, she wondered where she'd gone
wrong, what she'd done to get like this.

She'd only moved to Sunnydale because of Buffy - and nothing much had
gone right since. How little she really knew her own daughter.
Vampires and demons and magic and all manner of strange things - and
Buffy was supposed to stop them. But was she really surprised that her
daughter had fallen in love with a vampire? A *vampire* for heaven's
sake! Whatever a vampire really is. But she'd made sure he'd gone and
now Buffy had gone too. Well, only to college but for all she seemed
to care...

And Rupert was the biggest shock of all. She'd never recognised him
when she was in the hospital. But later, slowly, she'd realised who he
was. Perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised that he didn't remember
her. Perhaps it wasn't such a big thing for men. Or maybe he'd had so
many... no, not Rupert.

Last year when they'd... When the shock had worn off they were both...
well, the embarrassment faded very quickly. They didn't talk about it
but they still talked with each other... and he didn't seem to have
deliberately avoided her afterwards. Why would they have even... after
all the candy only removed their inhibitions. Hadn't it? Rupert had
wanted to have sex with *her*. Hadn't he? Because she was Joyce and
not because she just happened to be there?

Or did he remember and he just pretended that he didn't? Damn his
English hide. Did he keep quiet to protect her? Was that what an
English gentleman would do? Try to spare her blushes? So why did he
run away? What couldn't he cope with? Had he been looking for an
excuse to walk away from her all this time? And now that everything
was out in the open...

The worst part was that she still felt something for him. Not exactly
love but she was more than just fond of him. He'd grown into a man who
she could so easily fall in love with. He was so charming,
intelligent, and his smile... If anything he was even more handsome
now than when... He was always so perfect... polite and thoughtful and
caring.

He loves Buffy like a father would - she could see it in his eyes. Oh,
the pain he must suffer. He loves her dearly and he has to send her to
fight those horrible things. Who is he trying to protect? Me or
Buffy... or himself? It would be typical of the man that he would
think of them first before he even thought of himself.

Was there some strange honor code that she'd transgressed? Was there
some law that stopped a Watcher being with the Slayer's mother? Had he
got into trouble after... Hadn't he resigned anyway?

"Damn you, Rupert Giles!" The sound of her own voice surprised her.

Quickly she looked around the gallery, relieved that no one had come
in while she was away with the fairies.

"Damn you, Rupert Giles," she said again more softly. Dammit. Even
saying his name made her feel rotten. "Poor Rupert," realising the
burden she'd placed on him now. Yet another 'horrible thing' for him
to 'try to come to terms with'.

She hated the guilt. 

She'd hated carrying the secret with her for the past three years.
She'd hated repressing. She'd hated Jenny. She'd hated comforting
Willow. She'd hated herself for thinking of Rupert being free. She
hated that vampire. She hated all the time her daughter spent with her
man.

She hated the guilt.

He was her man. Her first...

She felt her body shudder, tears in her eyes. She clasped her hands
together to stop them shaking.

She hated being alone.

Janis' voice penetrated her gloom. She hated the conspiracy...

          Well, the fevers of the night, they burn an unloved woman
          Yeah, those red-hot flames try to push old love aside.
          A woman left lonely, she's the victim of her man, yes she is.
          When he can't keep up his own way, good Lord,
          She's got to do the best that she can, yeah!
          A woman left lonely

... she hated herself for blaming him but he didn't know. Destiny,
fate, cosmic forces - she hated it all.

She hated the little china tea cups, noticing Rupert's untouched tea.
No, she didn't. They represented everything that was so... quaint - a
word Rupert hated - about him.

Joyce got up, switched off the radio, locked the door and took the tea
cups to the back room. Force of habit made her wash them straight
away. She looked at the neat little row of Rupert's tea bags and
wondered how long they'd stay there untouched.

Slipping her jacket on she flicked the switches that controlled the
lighting and the alarm system without thinking. With a sigh she picked
up her purse and walked out the back door.

She got as far as the park before she realised where she was.
Obviously she'd needed to be out of the gallery, and clearing the cups
had probably made her unconsciously think it was time to go home.

Looking around she wondered what she should do. Going to Rupert's was
out of the question, and it was far too early to go home. She needed
distracting, something to take her mind off... what it shouldn't be
on. Something that, preferably, didn't involve alcohol. Or tea. Or
scones or anything remotely English.

Only she had nowhere to go, nothing to do. No one to be with, no one
to talk to. Apart from the gallery was there anything to keep her in
Sunnydale? For all Buffy did she may as well be in... she'd miss
Willow. At least there was one thoughtful girl in Sunnydale. Even if
she was dating a werewolf. Joyce laughed out loud. Was there one
normal person she knew in Sunnydale?

Why did Buffy have to be the Slayer? Why couldn't she and Faith have
got along? Why did she have to leave home? Why did Rupert...

There was no escaping her past... unless she... there had to be
something in the present that could make her forget the past, give her
something for the future...

She stopped walking and turned around, heading back to the gallery.
Could she really give it up and move on? Could she start anew again?
Would anyone notice if she upped and left?

*

Standing outside the gallery she looked at the little spotlights on
some of her favorite pieces.  Even running the gallery hadn't been
without its own dangers. Poor Pat. She'd cared and she'd died...

Was that why she had so few friends? No one remembered all the evil
but everyone knew that somehow her daughter was connected with it. Did
people avoid her because of her daughter? Even Sheila avoided her.
They hadn't spoken since... did she blame her because of Willow and
Buffy?

Why couldn't she have had a normal daughter, and lived a normal life
in a normal town with normal friends... Why couldn't Buffy come say
hello more often? Why were they only together when one of them - when
Buffy - needed comforting? If only she hadn't had to fill her room
with those crates. Had *she* driven Buffy away from her? Had she
really tried to fool herself into thinking that she didn't miss her
daughter? By using her room when she did have other space she could
have used?

Every little action seemed to have its own massive consequence. Better
tread lightly or an earthquake will hit the town. She grimaced. Now
she was being just plain irrational. 

A cloud blocked out the sunlight and she saw her reflection in the
window. She saw the smudges on the glass where she'd drawn the smiley
face. At least that face was smiling now, although she'd have to clean
it away. That silly little face was the only happy thing around her
and she'd have to get rid of it. That really did sum up her day and
she knew it wasn't over yet.

Why had she walked to work this morning? If only she could just get
into the car and drive away. But she knew, as she started walking,
that when she got home she'd walk past the car. She couldn't run away.
She couldn't leave. She had to be there. She had to sit in the dark
and wait, hoping that Buffy would visit or at least phone.

For the last three years Buffy had spent more time with Rupert than
she had with her. Going to school early, getting home late. Sneaking
in and out in the middle of the night. She wanted to blame Rupert but
knew that she couldn't.

She'd devoted her life to Buffy at the expense of everything else. All
the sacrifices - not literally - that she'd made. The empty days, the
lonely evenings, the nights she had lain awake in fear before crying
herself to sleep. All the years she'd given selflessly, all the years
Buffy had taken from her.

Why couldn't she have told Rupert earlier? Why didn't she tell him as
soon as she'd realised? They could have worked it out without all the
baggage they carried now. Then she and Rupert could have looked after
Buffy together. There wouldn't have been any secrets, any lies, any
mistrust... any anger. They could have been a family. They could have
been everything she'd ever wanted. Now Rupert wasn't talking to her
and Buffy never called. They had everything and she had nothing.

If she started over again, away from Sunnydale...

She stopped at the bottom of the drive and looked at the car. It was
so tempting to get in and drive away. She fished the keys from her
purse. The tank was full, she could go anywhere. She had credits cards
and cash and...

Continued in Part 3