Part 3
Oz walked back into the waiting room and took his seat again.
"I called Mrs. Rosenberg. They're visiting reletives in Oregon...that's why they weren't at home...They're coming back, though." No one gave any response. "Who wants the fun job of calling the Harris's? Joyce?"
"I-I suppose it should be me," Giles said. "Though God knows what I'll say to them. How do I even explain this?"
"The truth." Cordelia said "At least for Buffy's mom. Xander's parents probably won't even notice he's gone for a couple days."
"We won't know anything about Willow for a while yet. I suppose I'll go over to see Joyce now," Giles said, standing slowly.
"See me for what?" Joyce Summers said from the doorway.
***
"Hi, kids," Mrs. Summers said brightly. "Mr. Giles. Shelia called me from Oregon and said Willow had been in an accident of some sort. She asked me to come over and sit with her until they could get back. It's terrible...What happened?"
"Joyce," Giles said.Her blood froze-- It was the first time he had ever said her first name without studdering her last one for four minutes.
"Where's Buffy?" she demanded, noticing her daughter's absence for the first time. Giles stood and took a step towards her. She steeped back.
"Where is she?" she said coldly, pointing her finger at him as if she were brandishing some sort of knife.
"There's been an accident..."he began.
***
Giles watched as Joyce's face dried into a mask of hate and anger. He stepped forward to comfort her.
"Don't touch me." she forced out "Don't you ever, EVER touch me."
His throat burned. "I'm so sorry-"
"Go to Hell." She spat in his face and walked away with the stride of a very angry, determined woman.
"Where are you going?!" he yelled after her. She didn't respond, but kept down the busy hospital coridor. "Bloody hell," he muttered, smaking the wooden door frame.
"Where do you THINK she's going?!" a very hurt Cordelia said. "I'm going with her." and with that, she stood and fled.
***
Joyce had never seen anything like it in her entire life.
Every nightmare she'd ever had of hell met her warmly in the Rosenbergs' living room.
It looked like there had been an explosion of some sort: the floorboards were burnt black, pictures and windows were broken, vases were knocked over, sofa cushions were splint. Even the stairs were broken, as if they had been snapped in the middle.
And in the center was her daughter.
Cordelia bustled in after her, her pretty face marred in horror.
"Oh, my God," she whispered
"God had nothing to do with this, sweetheart," Joyce said in a hard voice.
***
Giles's wind-up toy was no match for a brand-new BMW and Grand Cherokee. By the time they got to the house, Cordelia and Buffy's mother were already inside.
"Christ," Giles muttered. "Angel, what are they going to find in there?"
The vampire closed his eyes and shook his head.
"That's what I thought."
***
Giles hit the door without taking any time to prepare himself for what was waiting inside-- and it was almost too much.
Cordelia knelt in the middle of the room with Xander's head in her lap. She was weeping loudly, one hand stroking his bloody cheek, the other covering her mouth.
Joyce remained removed from the scene staring coldly at her daughter's body. She looked up at Rupert.
"How did this happen?" she demanded. He found himself at a loss for words to explain...How did he tell a woman that the earth had yawned and all the darkness at its center had stolen her daughter from her?
"Joyce," Angel said from behind him. He was hunched over, as if the effort to stand was too much to handle. A white squall of pain brewed on his face. "Buffy. . .and Xander," he added for Cordelia's benefit, "died, screaming at the darkness. They were heroes. The binding didn't work, and rather than run, your daughter stood and fought it. And Xander stayed with her, to protect her, because he loved her." Shame hit his eyes.
"And where were you during all of this,?" she asked, barely restraining herself.
He swallowed and self-hatred ate at his dark features. "I wasn't quick enought." he said, simply, laying himself out for her anger.
"Mrs. Summers," Wesley broke in. "If I may, the slayer is the chosen one, with the duty to fight the darkness of the world. But no one can do it forever, and she will eventually fall. Buffy was an extrodinary slayer, and she died a hero's death. You should be proud."
"Do you honestly think--"Joyce began, but was cut off.
"YOU BLOODY BASTARD!!" Giles screamed, launching himself at the man who represented every failure in his life. "I'LL BLOODY KILL YOU! Proud?! Proud, she should be? I'll show you bloody proud!" He forgot every bit of pain in his soul as it was replaced by hate in his blood. And as his fists connected with Wesley's skin, he felt alive for the last time in what promised to be a very dark future ...
 

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