I loved you for a long, long time
I know this love is real
It don't matter how it all went wrong
That don't change the way I feel
And I can't believe that time's gonna heal
This wound I'm speaking of
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure,
There ain't no cure for love.
--Leonard Cohen
"Ain't No Cure for Love"
'Well, this has been an interesting evening.' Joyce reflected as she stared at her basement door.
For the last few weeks, since the evening that Xander would later refer to as the "Dead Man's Party", the growing relationship between Buffy and her closest friends (and lovers) had grown increasingly strained. Buffy had been distancing herself from Willow and Xander, while Xander seemed to have his own agenda to consider. He had been sending the new Slayer, Faith, on all manner of errands, not explaining their significance half the time. He would just shrug and say, "It's for the future." His secrecy in the end only served to drive the wedge further between him and the others.
Finally, Willow had enough of the friction between Buffy and Xander. In a desperate effort to make peace, she threw them in the basement, and conveyed to both Joyce and Giles in no uncertain terms that the door was to remain locked until Buffy and Xander had worked out their differences. Not wanting to anger the young witch/computer hacker, who if Xander was to be believed was quite capable of destroying the world, Joyce nodded and complied with Willow's wishes. After a while, Joyce heard angry yelling and slamming sounds beneath the floorboards and fought the urge to break down the door and separate Xander from her daughter for his safety as well as hers.
Things had quietened down since then, save the muffled hum of the washing machine. Joyce smiled to herself; the silence was a good indicator that the two were working it out after their heated argument. Her smile diminished as the thought of another possibility for the silence; possibility of one having killed the other.
Joyce was about to knock on the basement door to check on the two when she heard a new sound.
The kind of sound that made Joyce blush.
"Uh, Rupert," Joyce called out nervously from the kitchen, anxious for an excuse to get out of there, "would you care for some tea?"
"I'd be delighted," Giles answered. "Black please, two sugars."
Within three minutes, Joyce emerged from the kitchen with two steaming china cups in her hands. Giles accepted a cup from Joyce's hand and sipped contentedly at the hot, sweet liquid. "Hmm," he mused as Joyce took her seat on the sofa and enjoyed her tea, "from the silence, I may assume that Buffy and Xander have either made up or killed each other."
"Trust me, Rupert," Joyce flashed Giles a knowing half-smile, "it's not exactly silent down there. From what I heard they are definitely making up."
"Oh, well, that's... good. I think." Giles stammered then chuckled at Joyce's inference. He sipped his tea again, noticing Joyce's thoughtful expression. "Does that bother you, though? Buffy's relationship with Willow and Xander, I mean?"
"What's that?" Joyce asked innocently. "Do you mean the fact that my daughter has found happiness and stability in her life, and she has friends who won't desert her? You're right; I'll put a stop to it at once!"
"That's not quite what I was thinking." Rupert corrected himself quickly. "It's just that right now your teenaged daughter and Xander are evidently..." Giles search for an appropriate term, "being intimate in your basement. Most conventional parents would have an understandable objection to that fact."
Joyce glanced ruefully at Giles. "True. But the phrase 'conventional parent' pretty much flew out the window when I first saw Buffy slay that vampire at the parent teacher night last year. Trust me, my daughter is not conventional. And I won't begrudge her what happiness she can find in this world."
Giles nodded slowly, recognizing the wisdom in Joyce's words. Ever since the day last year when Xander had emerged from a temporal rift, seven years older and a lifetime wiser, Buffy's world had certainly changed. Not only did Xander's insight into future events serve Buffy and the others well, but the new bond that Xander had forged with Buffy and Willow had proven beneficial for the Slayer. Giles didn't show it, but he was greatly relieved to learn that the bond would hold despite their recent difficulties.
"You are certainly broadminded about your daughter's relationship," Giles commented.
Joyce stared intently at the reflection of the living room lights playing against the surface of her tea. "Well," she answered, a faint melancholy colouring her voice, "I think I understand how Buffy, Willow and Xander work. From personal experience actually."
Giles' eyebrow shot up. "Oh? I had no idea."
"No one did, really," Joyce admitted. "I never really had any reason to bring it up around Buffy. I guess I wasn't quite certain how she'd take it. Besides, after recent events…" She said nothing more; she just went back to contemplating the teacup she held in both hands.
Giles nodded slightly, seeing the traces of mourning etching lines in Joyce's brow. "You don't need to talk about it if it's still painful. I understand perfectly."
"Thank you, Rupert," Joyce shook her head, "but I think I do want to talk about it. I think I could use the closure, really."
Rupert placed his teacup gently on the coffee table, and moved closer to Joyce on the sofa. "Take your time." he assured her.
Joyce swallowed one last gulp of tea for courage, and continued. "You remember Pat, right? From that dinner a couple of weeks ago?" She fell silent, and Giles nodded in complete understanding. He did remember the tragic events of that night, when Joyce's friend was slaughtered during a zombie attack, only to rise as an undead fiend and don the cursed mask that Joyce had appropriated for her gallery.
"Hank and I were high-school sweethearts," Joyce continued. "He was on the football team, I was a cheerleader, the classic cliché. Anyway, we managed to enroll at UCLA together after we graduated high school, and that's how I met Pat. She and I were roommates during my first year at UCLA, and we bonded from the first day we met. We weren't the same, nothing like that, but we had many things in common. Favourite movies, dreams for the future, hobbies, interests, that sort of thing. She was dating some artistic type the first month I knew her, and they double-dated with Hank and me a couple of times. Then Pat walked in on her boyfriend..."
"Let me guess," Giles interrupted, "he was in bed with another woman?"
"Close," Joyce answered wryly. "Another man."
"Oh dear." Giles breathed. Joyce chuckled at his all-too-British expression.
"Anyway," Joyce continued, "Mr. Starving Artist wasn't heard from again, and from what little I remember of him it's for the best. I never really liked him; always got the impression he was sponging off of Pat. I don't ever recall him picking up the check at a restaurant. Of course Pat was miserable for the following week. So Hank and I insisted on spending time with her, to draw her out of her funk. We went to movies together, lectures, outdoor concerts. We were the original Three Musketeers. Hank, Pat and I were inseparable.
"Pat was the closest and best friend that either of us had ever had. I'll admit to being something of a flake back in high school. Back then, any friendships I had were a mile wide and an inch deep. With Pat it was different, you know? The three of us found ourselves in the middle of this big, deep, fantastic friendship.
"It was after the fall finals that things changed. We all aced our exams, and we wanted to celebrate. We ordered Chinese food, Hank managed to sneak in a bottle of wine into the dorm, and we ended up getting a little drunk. Pat and I started feeding each other sweet- and-sour beef with our chopsticks, then I fed some to Hank because he was starting to feel left out. Pat proposed a toast to the three of us, thanking Hank and me for being there when her jerk of a boyfriend bailed. Hmph, I don't really recall when it happened. I think Hank commented that he enjoyed being with the two sexiest women at UCLA, which led to Pat and I appraising Hank's sexiness. Before I knew it, Pat leaned in to hug Hank and she suddenly kissed him on the mouth.
"I should have been angry. If I were fully sober I probably would have been. But before I could remind Pat that she was kissing my boyfriend, she broke it off and then leaned in toward me. I became aware of her closeness, I could smell the shampoo she had used that morning and the perfume she was wearing. Then before I knew it she was kissing me. Hard. And I was kissing back.
"When I finally pulled away, I glanced at Hank, who just wolf- whistled. Then Pat beckoned to him, and he leaned in toward us and we hugged. His lips were on my cheek, then on my mouth, then on Pat's...I lost track of who's lips were where, or who's hands were touching me where. The only thing I knew was that I was having the best sex of my life. Uh, I'm not shocking you, am I, Rupert?"
"Uh, no," Giles stammered slightly. "Not entirely. I'm somewhat surprised that you...that is, well...I guess still waters run deep."
"Believe me," Joyce laughed, "It wasn't planned. But once it happened, it didn't just feel good. Or even incredible. It felt right. Like the three of us were puzzle pieces that finally fit together with each other."
As she spoke, Joyce's eyes took on a wicked gleam and a sly smile creased her lips. "I woke up the next day effectively sandwiched between my boyfriend and my best friend. Between the three of us there wasn't a stitch of clothing. And amazingly enough, there were no regrets. Something had changed between us. We got dressed and had breakfast over at the Student Union Building, and we talked about what had happened. We all agreed that the three of us came together because we needed to be together. And for the next few months, that's exactly what we were. Together. Hank kept his dorm, but for the most part he ended up sleeping with Pat and me. We made plans for the future, we shared our dreams, our hopes and desires as well as our bodies. Please understand, Rupert, this wasn't an experiment for us. Hank, Pat and I were in madly and deeply in love with each other. There's no other word for what we had."
Rupert gave Joyce a reassuring nod. "I understand perfectly. But somehow I sense that this story doesn't have a happy ending."
Joyce lowered her head, shaking it slowly. "Just before Spring break, Pat's parents came in for a surprise visit. And you can imagine the expression on their faces when they saw their daughter making out with another woman. The choice they gave her was simple; transfer her credits to another school and sever all contact with Hank and me, or they would cut her off completely. Hank and I never even had a chance to say goodbye to her." Joyce stopped talking long enough to close her eyes and compose herself, willing the lump in her throat to go away.
"Hank and I still had each other," Joyce continued, "and for a while it seemed like enough. We got married and had Buffy, and I believed that I had the perfect life. And I kept on believing it until the day I caught Hank with his secretary, taking more than just dictation." She snorted derisively at the memory of her husband's infidelity.
"About that time, Buffy had begun changing. She had been getting into trouble, out all night partying?or at least I thought she was partying. Under the circumstances I wish it was just partying. And Hank took the opportunity to casually write himself out of our lives."
"Sounds like the man was a perfect cad." Giles commented sagely.
"Maybe," Joyce answered. "But after a time, I came to the conclusion that Hank and I only really worked because of Pat. Hank and I had passion, we had fire, but we were too different. Pat brought a balance that we otherwise lacked. After she left, Hank and I remembered her a lot, we sort of summoned her spirit whenever we argued. We thought of what she would say to us, and somehow that helped us smooth over the rough patches for the first ten years or so of our marriage. Actually, it worked both ways; after Buffy and I moved to Sunnydale, I was amazed to run into Pat in my neighbourhood. We got together and talked about the old times. She had married and divorced, just like me, only much faster. Evidently he was a 'nice boy' her parents approved of, but turned out to be abusive. He only got to hit her once though. She then called the police and she agreed to drop all battery charges in exchange for a quick no-fault divorce and a promise that he would never contact her again. She and I had actually considered going out on a date, and seeing where the fates would take us. But things changed between us. As much as we may have been love before, we were now only friends. And for Pat and me, it was enough."
Joyce sipped the last of her tea, and sighed quietly in thought. "Then came the zombie party a few weeks ago, and, well..." She fell silent and Giles didn't prod her any further about Pat or their affair. She absently dabbed at the faint trace tears in her eyes, inhaled deeply and turned her face toward Giles, grateful for his understanding demeanour and kind smile.
"Thanks for putting up with my rambling," she smiled at the uptight Englishman. "I guess I needed to unload more than I thought I did."
"No problem, Joyce," Giles answered warmly. He caught a glimpse of Joyce's eyes, the way they lit up when she smiled. He found himself wanting to see that light again. "The loss of a loved one is never something that should be borne alone. You were there for me after Jenny's death, this is the least I could do in return."
"Thank you," Joyce nodded. "But now, putting it into words, I finally understand why Buffy, Xander and Willow found each other. In a way, Xander and Buffy are a lot like Hank and I were in college. All passion and fire. If they alone were a couple they'd probably have an intense relationship, but all too brief. But Willow, she's like Pat. She somehow balances them, keeps them grounded. Even locks them in the basement when necessary." She found her mind wandering back toward the young redhead who had become like a second daughter to her.
"When Buffy first told me about her being the Slayer, I wondered how Willow fit into her crazy life. I couldn't believe that this sweet- natured young thing had survived the terrors that Buffy faced every night. Heh, turns out she's probably one of the strongest people I ever met."
Giles nodded in full agreement, a faint glow of fatherly pride lighting his features. "I concur with you on that score, Joyce. It's never ceased to amaze me how Buffy's friends have supported her. And given the bizarre circumstances of her life, I thank God every night for them."
"So do I, Rupert," Joyce answered emphatically. "So do I."
Neither Joyce nor Giles spoke for a full minute. A profound silence hovered over them, one that clarified thought and emotion. The Slayer's mother and Watcher sat together, enjoying a perfect peace, a moment of closure that didn't require words. Indeed during this time of reflection words would have been an intrusion. Without tears, without shame or regret, Giles was able to bid farewell to Jenny Calendar, while Joyce made her peace with Pat.
"Oh my," Joyce finally broke the silence once they felt the profundity of the moment fade away. "That was certainly a deeper conversation than I expected."
"I'll say," Giles agreed. "Normally I only have that kind of depth after a good bottle of scotch."
"Well, I've got a bottle of red wine if you'd care to share." Joyce suggested. Giles briefly contemplated the offer.
"I think I'd like that." Giles smiled at his companion. Joyce fetched the bottle, two glasses and the opener. Handing Giles the bottle and the opener, she watched as he did the honours.
Sipping at their drinks, they savoured the rich and complex flavours of the wine.
Complex. It was the one word that perfectly described the lives of the House of Scooby.
"So, Rupert, I heard that you weren't so 'conventional' in your college years either."
Giles chuckled.
"One could definitely say that."
With a little prompting Giles told the stories of his misspent youth to a fascinated Joyce who began to see the stuffy Englishman in a new light.
For the rest of the evening before Giles returned to his home, he and Joyce chatted amiably about everything and nothing. Their friendship had grown significantly over the last few months, and the night had both of them finding a new and deeper level of friendship between them.
Yes, Joyce thought with a smile on her face as she headed for bed, this has been a very interesting evening.