Summary: Joyce, driving out of town on business picks up a girl hitching a ride. It’s Faith. Sex ensues.
Spoilers: General third and fourth season spoilers, specifically ‘Who Are You?’ and ‘This Year’s Girl.’ Oh and a mention of ‘Band Candy’ from the third season.
Rating: NC-17. Sex between two consenting women.
Distribution: UCSL, JOYFFA, JustJoyce, anywhere else please ask first..The fabulous Joyce Summers and Faith and all the other characters of the Buffyverse are the divine property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Productions, Warner Brothers and no doubt countless others I’ve neglected to mention. Being a lowly fan who gains no profit (but hopefully feedback, HINT, HINT) from my inane writings, I don’t intend to infringe upon said copyright.
Notes: I suppose this is my first proper Buffy fic (I am primarily a ST: Voyager slash-a-holic) because I’m not counting all the ones I’ve started but never finished. You have Dolores Labouchere to thank for this, as she inspired me to write my first Joyce fic.
****
As soon as Joyce Summers drove past the ‘You Are Leaving Sunnydale’ sign, the dark clouds that had been hanging ominously in the sky burst. The rain was pounding five or six inches off the ground, violently ricocheting off the windscreen. Joyce disliked driving in the rain, it meant surrendering some of your control to the elements and Joyce liked to be in control of her life. Of course, when Buffy had revealed that she was the Slayer, the Chosen One to fight vampires, that hard-fought stability she’d managed to secure following her divorce from Buffy’s father had gone straight out the proverbial window. She was only recently becoming accustomed to her daughter’s calling but she certainly wasn’t comfortable with the fact that Buffy’s life was constantly in peril, that any night now, some demon or vampire, or even a rogue Slayer, might get the better of Buffy.
Joyce shuddered as she remembered Buffy’s most recent brush with Faith. Really, she wasn't happy about going out of town on business in case Faith returned but there was no way around it. The gallery was her livelihood, and now that Buffy was at college, she found that she had a lot more time to devote to it. She hadn’t told her daughter but she was taking self-defense lessons one evening a week. She didn’t expect to be able to fight off someone like Faith but at least she would be able to defend herself against the dangers of the night. And she was even packing a stake in her handbag, just in case.
As Joyce was consumed in her thoughts the headlights lit upon a bedraggled figure at the side of the road, thumb aloft and arm outstretched. She briefly considered stopping but considering the proximity to the Hellmouth, it probably wasn’t a good idea. When the hitchhiker saw that she wasn’t slowing down to stop, they suddenly stepped out in front of the car. It seemed to happen at half-speed, the body rolling over the hood, impacting horribly with the windscreen. Joyce hit the brakes moments too late. The hitchhiker rolled off the hood again.
Joyce gripped the wheel, knuckles white from the pressure. She stared straight ahead, blinking. Her mind was racing, unable to comprehend how this had happened to her. Slowly, she peeled her fingers from the wheel and reached for the door handle. With dread heavy in her stomach she stepped out into rain, narrowing her eyes against it. She took a deep breath and walked around to the back of the car and was startled not to find the hitchhiker there. She glanced around herself in disbelief. She couldn’t have imagined it, the proof was in the huge dent on the hood and the cracked windscreen. When she turned again, the hitchhiker was standing there in front of her.
"Faith?" Joyce said, her voice barely above a whisper.
The dark-haired girl was clutching her side, wincing, and a trail of blood trickled down her temple. She opened her mouth to make some smart-ass response but instead she fell to the ground, muttering "Shit."
Despite her better judgement, Joyce immediately went to the injured girl’s aid. It wasn’t in her nature to leave someone for dead, even if they had tried to kill her. She’d take Faith to a hospital, and after that it was up to the authorities. So she helped the girl to her feet and deposited her in the passenger seat. Once back in the driving seat she decided they were nearer the hospital in the next town than the one in Sunnydale. Frankly, it was a miracle she was being so rational at a time like this, her nerves were so frayed that she was operating on instinct alone. She glanced at Faith, dozing lightly, her face turned towards the older woman. She looked very young, like the sixteen or seventeen year-old girl that she was… not a killer. Joyce shook her head, silently reminding herself that she couldn’t allow herself to forget what Faith was capable of. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder what had driven Faith to murder, maybe it was something no one would ever know or comprehend.
She saw something of the true Faith when the rogue Slayer had come to her house to kill her. There was desperation there and a need for acceptance. Clearly, all of her life, Faith had been excluded, always on the outside looking in. She got the impression that’s what it had been like with Faith and Buffy’s circle of friends. Perhaps if they’d all been a little more perceptive, then it might not have ended up this way.
A small grunt of pain brought Joyce back from her thoughts. Faith looked very pale in the dim light of the moon, a shadow of herself. Silently making a decision, Joyce pulled up at the side of the road.
"What’re you doing?" Faith asked, picking her head up off the headrest.
"I’m sure I have a little first aid kit in here somewhere." The older woman leaned over Faith towards the glove compartment and found the small green tub with a white cross on the front. She could see that Faith was tensed up, like a caged animal ready to pounce. "Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you," Joyce assured her, not a little irony in her tone.
The dark-haired girl visibly relaxed and nodded for Joyce to proceed. Joyce opened the tub and removed some cotton wool balls to wipe away the encrusted blood from Faith’s face. The Slayer winced slightly and it brought a faint smile to the older woman’s lips. It reminded her of when Buffy was a child, always coming home with grazed knees. She wondered if Faith’s mother had ever done that; from what she’d heard from Buffy, that seemed highly unlikely. Joyce put the used cotton wool in a small disposable bag and reached for the ointment.
"This is going to sting," she warned.
Faith set her jaw and allowed the older woman to apply the ointment which she did in silence. Joyce was surprised by just how remarkably steady her hand was, given her unnerving proximity to the rogue Slayer. Dark eyes fixed on her, almost black like onyx and suddenly Joyce felt very aware of her own breathing. It seemed too loud, too heavy. When Faith stared like that, it was as if she took possession simply with her gaze and then devoured with those large dark eyes.
The older woman drew back abruptly, putting the ointment back in tub, carefully avoiding Faith’s eyes. "You might have a few broken ribs, so we should go to a hospital."
Faith sighed. "You know, actually," she paused to stretch her arms in the cramped space, "I’m kinda feelin’ five by five." Joyce looked at the girl and Faith broke into a Harlot-hued grin.
Continued in Part II