Joyce

 

The flight hadn't been overly long, just enough for Bran to get excited about.  He'd been bouncy the entire trip, staring out the window, pointing at clouds and the tiny buildings that came into view as the plane came in for landing.  He'd never been on a plane before, and Xander was glad that Bran had this chance at such a new and exciting experience, at least.

 

But even Bran's excitement couldn't overshadow the feeling of dread that washed over him at the thought of meeting his 'mother'.  Spike had told him that he'd called ahead; that Joyce would be expecting them.  But would Xander be prepared for her?

 

Bran was eager to meet her, Xander knew.  He'd had a long talk with Brandon about where they were going, what they were doing, and who would be there to meet them.  He was young still, but Xander thought he understood about as well as Xander did.  It wasn't an easy thing to explain to a child, or an adult, he thought.

 

Xander rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans, wondering why he was nervous.  He shouldn't be nervous.  Who cared what kind of impression he made on a woman who hadn't even wanted to keep him?  Who cared what she thought? Nevertheless, his palms were wet and clammy, his leg bouncing nervously up and down.

 

Unexpectedly, Xander felt the weight of Spike's hand atop his own.  "Relax, luv.  Everything will be fine."  The smooth tones of his accent floated over Xander and calmed some of his nerves.

 

"Thanks, Spike."  Xander smiled tentatively and was rewarded with a smile from Spike.

 

"Look, daddy!  A park!  Can we stop, daddy?  Huh?"  Bran pointed out the window of their cab, eagerly bouncing in his seat.

 

"Sorry, Bran.  Not right now, buddy.  Maybe after we meet everyone we can come back, okay?"  Xander offered.  "Maybe tomorrow?"

 

"Okay, daddy," Bran acquiesced. 

 

Xander leaned down and kissed the crown of his head, ruffling Bran's hair as he straightened.  He was such a good kid.  Xander wondered at his ability to raise such a child.  More often than not, he thought that it might just have been something innate, passed on from Willow.  Maybe there was just no way for Xander to mess up.  For that he was glad.  Bran deserved a happy, innocent childhood.  He hoped that when he was grown up and looking back, he would have a thousand happy memories to choose from.

 

Then the car was pulling in to a driveway, a house looming before them.  Xander swallowed, wanting to resist Spike's pull on his hand as he exited the taxi, but unable to. 

 

"Ready, luv?"  Spike asked with an anxious look on his face.

 

"Do I have a choice?"  Xander spat back.  "Sorry."

 

"No worries, luv.  And you do have a choice."  Spike squeezed his hand once more.  "You don't have to meet her.  She'll understand if you don't.  But she wants a chance to explain."

 

"What?  Explain why she threw me out and kept her?"  Xander asked venomously.  "Don't want an explanation."  His voice sounded petulant even to his own ears.

"Know you don’t, Xan.  But maybe you deserve one?"  Spike observed.

 

Xander took a deep, cleansing breath, wanting to expel the anger that seemed to be festering in the pit of his stomach.  He closed his eyes in his effort to calm down.  He hadn't felt this close to losing control in a long time.  He'd vowed to himself that he would never be like Anthony Harris and that meant keeping a tight lid on the anger and the hatred that was threatening to bubble up.

 

"Daddy?"  The tremor in Bran's voice had Xander's eyes shooting open.  "Are you okay, daddy?"  Bran had never seen his father like this, so still, and straight.  He looked angry, but Bran didn't think he'd done anything wrong.

 

"Yeah, Buddy, I'm fine."  Xander blew out the breath he'd been holding.

 

"Your da's just tired, Bran, and nervous about meeting Joyce.  Are you nervous, bit?"  Spike asked trying to distract the boy.

 

"What's nervous mean?"  Bran asked looking up at Spike.  "Is it when my tummy feels funny?  Cause I kinda feel funny in my tummy right now," he ventured, rubbing at said tummy.

 

"Yeah, luv," Spike laughed, scooping up the giggling boy.  "That's exactly what it means."  He blew a raspberry on Bran's stomach before looking back up into the child's smiling face.  "But don't be nervous, bit.  Joyce will treat you right proper.  Probably have biscuits and milk waiting, too."

 

"Biscuits?"  Bran scrunched up his face in disgust, making Spike laugh so hard he almost dropped him.

 

"Cookies, luv.  Biscuits are cookies," Spike explained.

 

"Cookies!"  Bran repeated, turning to look toward the front door longingly.

 

Xander chuckled, making Spike relax fractionally.  "Okay, I can take a hint.  Let's go." 

 

Xander tossed a few dollars through the window of the cab, thanking the driver and then straightening up.  In his hands were two duffel bags that held both his and Bran's clothes.  Spike's suitcase was sitting on the drive next to him.  Spike released Bran, who immediately ran toward the front door, bouncing on the step until Spike and Xander could join him. 

 

Xander's foot tapped nervously on the porch while Spike rang the bell.  The tapping increased as footsteps neared the entrance and the door swung slowly open.  A woman stood on the other side of the threshold.  Her blonde hair just beginning to show wisps of gray in it.  She had worry lines etched into her forehead and around her eyes.  He skin was pale and she looked like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in more than a month.  But when her eyes lit on Spike, she smiled, and Xander saw a hint of the woman she used to be.

 

"Spike!"  She greeted him with a hug.

 

"'ello Joyce.  How are you?  How's Buffy?"  Spike asked, worry creeping into his voice.

 

"No change."  Joyce shook her head, finally letting go of the bleached blond to look over at the newcomers.  "Hello."  She smiled shyly at first Bran and then Xander.

 

"Joyce, this is Xander Harris."  Spike gestured toward him.  "And his boy, Brandon."

 

"Bran!  Daddy only calls me Brandon when he's mad," Brandon explained.

 

"Okay, Bran, whatever you say."  Joyce was hard pressed to fight the chuckle that threatened.  "Why don't you both come in?  I've got cookies and milk in the kitchen."

 

"Cookies!"  Bran looked toward his father for permission.  Xander nodded and he darted into the house.

 

"Brandon!"  Xander cried out, embarrassed that his son had raced straight toward what was presumably the kitchen.  He felt red hot color infuse his cheeks and he willed it away.  Not wanting to care what this woman thought of him or his son.

 

"It's okay, Xander."  Joyce reassured him, reaching out to touch his arm and lead him into the house.  She paled when Xander recoiled from her touch.

 

"Xan," Spike called softly, and Xander turned to him.  The blond inclined his head toward the living room and then led the way.  Xander followed, not looking up into Joyce's hurt expression.  They both took seats on the couch, while Joyce reclined in the armchair.

 

"Dad!"  Bran called, running back into the room to join them, a cookie in each hand.  "They're choc'late chip!" he announced between bites.  "Want one?"  He offered one of his hands.

 

"No thanks, buddy."  Xander ruffled his hair.  "Why don't you go back into the kitchen and have some milk with those cookies, 'kay?"

 

Bran looked from his dad to Will, and then to Joyce.  "Are you gonna *talk*."  He made a face.

 

"Yeah, buddy, just for a little while, okay?"  Xander answered, smiling.

 

"I knew it."  Bran rolled his eyes, making Xander's smile turn into a chuckle.

 

"You're a smart 'un, aren't you?"  Spike said, swiping at the laughing boy.  He caught him around the middle and hauled him close.  "Don't worry about it, 'kay, bit?  Just gonna say a proper hello, get to know each other like," he reassured the boy.

 

"Okay."  Bran squirmed out of Spike's hold and turned to face him.  "Will?"

"Yeah, luv?"

 

"Are you gonna stay with dad?"

 

"'course, luv.  If he wants me to."  Spike's gaze slid sideways toward Xander.

 

"Good," Bran announced, then he leaned in to whisper in Spike's ear,  "I don't think the funny feeling in his tummy's gone yet."

 

"Don't worry, luv.  I'll stay as long as your da needs me, okay?"  Spike whispered back.  Then he leaned back and swatted Bran on the butt.  "Now off with you, bit.  And leave a biscuit for me, will ya?"    Spike called after him.

 

"He's a beautiful boy," Joyce ventured.

 

Xander had been smiling at the small exchange he'd witnessed, but the grin dropped away at Joyce's words.  "Yeah," he answered noncommittally, unconsciously leaning closer to Spike.

 

"Xander..." Joyce wasn't sure how to begin this conversation.  "I know you probably don't believe this, but I'm so sorry.  I thought...I thought I was doing the right thing."

 

"Yeah, right.  That's why you kept *her*, right?"  Xander asked sarcasm dripping from his lips.

 

Spike could feel the anger building, could feel Xander taking deep breaths and trying to remain calm.  He inched closer, wanting to be there to support the man he now considered a friend.  A man Spike found himself respecting and admiring more and more every minute.

 

"Things were different by the time I had Buffy, please, let me explain," Joyce pleaded.

 

Xander lowered his head and let loose a deep, heavy sigh.  Spike could sense the tension rolling off him, and wished that there was some way that he could make this easier for Xander.

 

Xander looked up, a weary expression on his face.  "Go on then.  Explain."

 

"I...we were very young when I became pregnant with you.  Hank proposed, said he would take care of me, that we would work everything out.  But then, seven months in, he got scared.  He left me, said he wasn't ready to be a father.  I was so young, only eighteen, my parents... I tried to go back to them, but they said I had to 'lay in the bed I'd made'.  They'd warned me that we were too young, that Hank wasn't the kind of man who would stick around.  But I was in love."  Joyce shrugged, a small, sad sigh escaping her lips.

 

"I didn't know what else to do.  I didn't have a job, didn't have any money except for the few hundred that Hank had left in our savings account.  It was barely enough to make the next month's rent.  I tried to find a job, Xander, I swear.  But no one would hire me, because I was seven months pregnant," Joyce explained.  "Mom and dad said they'd take me back, let me live with them, if I agreed to give you up.  They didn't want to raise another child.  I told them I would raise you, that I'd take care of you, but they didn't believe me.  Said I was too young for that kind of responsibility and that it would eventually fall on their shoulders."  Joyce had begun to cry now.  Silent tears that fell glistening down her red cheeks.  "I didn’t think Hank was ever coming back.  I didn't think I had any other choice."

 

Xander's anger had dimmed somewhat, though not completely abated.  Seeing Joyce cry and listening to her story, he tried to understand how she must have felt back then, lost and alone.  "What about Buffy?"

 

"You have to understand, Xander, that I never though Hank would come back.  I thought he'd gone for good.  About a year after I'd given you over to the adoption agency, Hank came back.  He had the final divorce papers in his hands, but he told me he couldn't sign them.  That he still loved me, that he should never have left.  I told him it was too late, that I couldn't forgive him.  But he kept at me."  Joyce shook her head, the tears still falling.  "Eventually I believed him.  We stayed married, a year and a half later we had Buffy." 

 

"So you got everything you ever wanted.  The happy family: loving husband, doting daughter.  And I was left..." Xander's voice trailed off, eyes suspiciously wet.  Spike leaned in, their thighs barely brushing.  Xander relaxed ever so slightly, but Spike felt it and pressed more firmly against the other man's leg.

 

"Not so happy after all," Joyce laughed bitterly.  "Before Buffy was even five years old, Hank left me for a younger woman.  Turns out I was a fool twice over."

 

Xander was silent for a long time, taking in Joyce's story.  Finally a harsh chuckle escaped.  "At least I wasn't a bastard, huh?"  Xander voiced the one point of merit he could think to find in her story.

 

"Xander, please - "

 

He stood, cutting her off.  "I think I've heard enough.  We should go.  Don't worry, I'll still help Buffy."  Xander waved off her protests.  "Bran!"  Xander called, schooling his features before the little boy could come rushing in.  "Ready to go, buddy?"

 

Bran looked from one adult to the other, noting the woman's wet cheeks.  He was silent for a moment, before looking back up to Xander.  "Sure, daddy," he answered solemnly.  Then he turned to Joyce.  "Thank you for the cookies."

 

She smiled, nodding.  When she reached out to touch him, Xander scooped Bran up in his arms and carried him to the door.  Spike followed them out, giving Joyce an understanding look.  "I'll work on him, luv," Spike whispered before stepping into the foyer.  Joyce only nodded once more.

 

"Xan!"  Spike called out as soon as he stepped over the threshold.  Xander was standing on the driveway holding their bags and looking like a lost little boy.  Spike's chest ached at the sight.  "My car's next door at da's house.  We'll just grab it and go, okay?"  Spike didn't wait for an answer, just strode over to his Desoto and popped the trunk.

 

"You don't have to, Spike.  Just let me call another cab to take us to a motel," Xander said.

 

"No, luv."  Spike shook his head.  "You can stay with me.  Don't want you using any of your own dosh when you're here to help us.  'sides, got three bedrooms at my place.  No worries."

 

"Okay, Spike."  Xander acquiesced easily, not really wanting to be alone.  They were loading the bags in the trunk when Xander stopped to look up at the house.  "Don't you want to go in and say hello to your dad?"

 

"Da's not home.  He's in class now.  's professor at the university.  I'll call later, let him know I'm back in town," Spike answered absently.  "Maybe you'd like to meet him?  We could have dinner or something together?"

 

"Sure, Spike.  That'd be nice."  Xander wondered what Spike's father was like.  If he was anything like Spike, Xander thought they might get along okay.

 

It was only minutes to Spike's 'flat', as he called it.  It was a nice apartment, three bedrooms, with a sunken living room.  More like a townhouse really.  It was plenty big enough for the three of them.  And Bran was more than excited to find out that Spike had a Playstation 2 hooked up in one of the bedrooms.  The one that Bran had tried to claim as his, but Xander had over-ruled him.  He didn't want Bran staying up all night playing video games.

 

While Bran was busy playing something bloody, Xander wandered back out into the living room to collapse on the couch.  Spike joined him a minute later, letting him know that Giles would be expecting them at the house by 7pm.  Xander nodded, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Fatigue had stolen over him like a thief, sapping all his energy.  The encounter with Joyce had drained him completely, and at the moment he felt like a rag doll that had gone through the washer and then been wrung out.

 

"You okay, Xan?"  Spike asked hesitantly.  He wanted...he wanted to comfort him, but didn't know how.  Ever since they'd met, Spike had had the strongest urge to protect Xander.  To take all the hurt and the pain he could see hidden behind his eyes and make it vanish.

 

"I don’t know, Spike."  Xander's eyes were still closed, his head flopped raggedly on the sofa back.  "I know Joyce means something to you.  That you don't see her as a bad person, but...I just...it's not easy for me, you know?"

 

"I know, luv."  Spike couldn't help placing a hand on Xander's shoulder in comfort.  When Xander's eyes opened and he turned to gaze at Spike, the blond was stunned to stillness.  The look in Xander's eyes was so full of pain that Spike wanted to weep.  "Don't, Xan," he whispered as the first tears began to fall.

 

Xander laughed mirthlessly.  "You know, I've cried more in the past three days than I have in the past 10 years."  Xander swiped futilely at his tears, before giving up.  "Anthony taught me a long time ago that crying was useless."

 

"Anthony?"  Spike was afraid of the answer.

 

"My *father*."  Xander spat the word out like a cruse.

 

"I'm sorry, Xan," Spike whispered, aching yet again.  "Please, luv, don't."  Spike accompanied his words with a hand brushing against Xander's cheek.  He cupped the tanned skin, swiping at the tears with his thumb.  And before he knew what he was doing, Spike leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

 

Xander was hesitant at first, but the feel of Spike's lips, the touch of a man that cared, had him responding almost feverishly.  He leaned into the kiss, wanting to prolong contact.  Wanting the feeling of comfort and care to go on for as long as possible.  Xander's tongue snaked out to taste Spike's bottom lip and he thrilled at the tiny moan that his move produced.  Xander took advantage of Spike's open mouth and plunged in.  He tasted every crevice, taking special care to trace the outline of Spike's sensitive gums. 

 

"Daddy!"  Bran came racing back into the room, intent on telling his dad just how far he'd gotten in the game he'd just played. 

 

The two men broke apart, breathing rapidly.  Spike shot Xander an alarmed look, not knowing what had happened or what to say.  "Xan, I'm sorry, I didn't - "

 

"No," Xander interrupted him.  Smiling as Bran skidded to a halt in front of them.  "Forget about it.  Just the heat of the moment, right?"  Xander wished Spike would contradict him, but the other man only nodded, silent.  When Bran began to detail the vastness of his success, Xander watched from the corner of his eye as Spike stood and left the room.