Days in the Sun
February 12th, 2024 – Spells
“Joy, this place is so great, I can’t believe you didn’t take us up here before!”
Trying to repress a proud smile at Sandra’s exclamation, Joyce Anne climbed through the trap door behind Emily. Her two friends walked straight to the two large boxes she had left open during her earlier reconnaissance. One was filled with clothes that had belonged to her mother when she was their age, outdated but cool in a weird way. The second one was the most interesting as far as she was concerned. It had been marked as belonging to Giles, but then why was it in the Summers’ attic? In it, she had found a random assortment of dusty books and supplies that blatantly came from the Magic Box. One book in particular had caught the teenager’s attention.
“You girls want to do some magic?” she had proposed her friends as they were walking home from school.
Her dad was on a trip in LA. He had been supposed to be there only one day, but he had called the day before to say he wouldn’t come back until at least the next night. Her mom had a work meeting until 8pm, and both her siblings were out of state. It was just so rare that she had the house to herself! She was almost 17, but they all seemed to treat her like a baby. She had spent the previous afternoon in the attic, checking out all the stuff her parents were keeping out of the way. A lot of weapons, mostly. She had attempted to open her father’s travel chest, trying random numbers for the combination lock but without success. She wanted so much to see what he had in there. Knowing him, probably really cool stuff! She had given up on it though, settling on easier targets, namely boxes closed simply with tape. And she had hit a double jackpot.
Her mother coming back had prevented her to try the magic by herself, and she had thought it would be even more fun to do it with her best friends. But right now, said best friends looked more interested in Buffy’s old clothes than in anything as exciting as a moldy magic book…
“Oh, can we try some of these on, Joy? They are so… cool! So retro !”
Sandra was holding a dress in front of her, trying to see what she would look like in it. Emily was bent chest deep into the box.
“I can’t believe Mrs Summers ever wore this stuff!”
Giggling, she showed an ultra mini black skirt to the two other girls. Repressing a sigh, Joyce Anne smiled. Her friends had forgotten all about the magic stuff they were supposed to do together.
“Let’s take the box downstairs,” she suggested. “We can change in the bathroom and see what we look like in the mirrors.”
Pulling in the garage, Spike made sure that the automatic door was closed before he got out of the DeSoto. His second day in LA had been shorter than expected, mostly because he had been in a foul mood at having to stay there a day more than he planed to. Also, he had been having a bad feeling since he had left, but nothing to attach it to. His editor knew him quite well by now, and she had guessed it was a bad day within two minutes of him entering her office. After that, she had made sure to cut the meetings to a minimum and to spare him the niceties he usually tolerated. He liked the woman ; in addition to paying attention to his moods, she had never questioned his ‘sun allergy’ and was doing a fine job with his books.
Leaving his duster on the couch with his wife’s present, he walked up the stairs to give hers to Jay. Looking through the open door of her room, he saw a mountain of clothes thrown on the bed. He half smiled as he recognized some of them. If his baby thought she would wear these in public, she was gravely mistaken! He remembered all too well what effect Buffy’s outfits had on the male population – particularly himself – when she was the nibblet’s age…
He was going to get back downstairs to look for her when a faint smell stopped him. Blood. Summers’ blood. For some reason, it smelled different from any other blood to him, and he could recognize it without hesitation. What he couldn’t say, however, was which member of his family had shed it.
As he silently followed the scent, a hundred possibilities were running through his mind, menacing to freeze him from sheer despair. If any of them had been hurt, he would kill whoever was responsible. Slowly. With his bare hands. And making sure they hurt a lot. He could remember a trick or two Angelus had taught him long ago.
His nose led him to the ladder, and he climbed it silently to the attic.
“Joyce Anne Summers! What in hell are you doing!?”
The girl jumped to her feet, the thick book she had been reading out loud from falling to the floor. She was standing in a circle of red candles, on a pattern drawn in chalk, diverse objects lying around her. Among these objects, he could see a bowl, a knife, roses. And the scent of blood was stronger. Her blood.
“Daddy I can…”
He raised a hand, silencing her. Fear had turned into anger. The demon was trying to come forward. Anything she would say now could only make matters worse.
“Downstairs. To your room. Now.”
Hesitantly, she came to the ladder, pausing by his side.
“It wasn’t a bad spell I pr…”
He caught her right hand, bringing it up in front of his face, holding it tight but avoiding touching the bloody cut. It was shallow, already starting to heal, but it was still a self–inflicted wound. He saw her wince, and realized it wasn’t from the pain. He had unconsciously shifted to game face. He tried to force the human mask back but failed. “Go to your room, Joyce Anne. Now.”
Buffy entered the house to find her husband pacing the living room.
“Spike? You’re smoking?”
He was startled by her question, as if he hadn’t heard her come in, which would have been a first. He took the cigarette away from his lips and showed it to her.
“It’s not lit, see? So I’m not smoking. ”
She heard the repressed anger in his voice, saw the tightness around his eyes. Going to him, she hugged him tight.
“Your meeting went badly?”
Instantly his hands were playing in her hair, stroking the curls in a familiar gesture.
“Meeting was fine luv.”
“Then what is wrong?”
“Found Jay. In the attic. Doing a spell.”
Buffy pushed a little away to look at his face.
“Where is she?”
“In her room. I couldn’t talk to her.”
Brushing the tip of her fingers on his face, she tried to think fast. The girl had learnt a couple of innocent spells before, levitating small objects and the such, and both Spike and herself had been amused by it. What was different this time to put him in this state?
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
The shadow of a smirk played on his lips. “Sometimes I think you know me too well, luv. She cut herself. She was using her blood for a spell. For a love spell!”
His voice had changed to a growl. Very low, he added : “I was so mad I shifted in front of her. If I go talk to her now, I’m going to do it again.”
So that was what was bothering him. Not the spell itself, but rather shifting in front of the kid. She did the only thing she could think of that she was sure would make him feel better. She kissed him. Slowly, gently, tenderly. She felt him melt under her touch, and pulled away with a sigh.
“I’ll talk to her. Just calm down, ok?”
He nodded and she started walking toward the staircase. Changing her mind, she came back to him and held out her hand. He understood what she wanted without her saying it, and gave her the cigarettes.
“I wasn’t going to smoke them,” he said grumpily.
Sitting on her bed, holding her pillow tight against her, Joyce Anne was waiting for the apocalypse. She was in more trouble than ever before.
First clue, Spike had called her Joyce Anne, which he never did. He called her a variety of things, going from nibblet to Jay, passing by luv, baby, birdie and a dozen other nicknames, some of which he used only for her, others she shared with her mom and sister. But never Joyce Anne. No one called her that, actually. To most people she was simply Joyce or Joy.
Second clue, he had sent her to her room without scolding her first. Bad. That meant he was too angry to talk.
Third clue, that was more than two hours ago. She couldn’t remember him being angry with her for more than a few minutes. Bad, very bad.
Fourth clue, he had slipped to game face. That was more than very bad, that was scaringly bad.
A brief knock was followed by the door opening. She almost sighed when she saw it was her mother, before realizing that this wasn’t good at all.
Fifth clue… even after two hours, he is so mad that he sends Mom instead of coming himself. And she usually gives the worst punishments.
Joyce Anne forced herself to look her mother in the eyes, repressing a frown at her amused smile. Buffy was still standing by the door, arms crossed, but she didn’t look angry at all.
“Was it for Anthony?” she asked.
The teenager blinked several times. “What?”
“Your spell, was it to make Anthony like you?”
Joyce Anne didn’t answer. She didn’t need to, her blush gave her away. She had told her mother about that boy she had a crush on, and now almost regretted it.
“Ah, the stupid things we do because of men…” Buffy shook her head slightly and came to sit on the bed next to her. “How bad is your cut?”
Letting go of the pillow, Joyce Anne showed her palm to her inquisitive mother, surprised by how nicely things were going so far. “It’s already healed,” she said very quietly. “It wasn’t deep, really.”
Buffy leaned against the headboard and wrapped an arm around her daughter, pulling her against her shoulder. “Go ahead. Explain.”
So Joyce Anne explained. About the Valentine’s Day party, about Anthony not asking her out, about finding the box full of magic stuff.
“You’re not angry?”
Buffy gave a big sigh. “We didn’t say anything when you started doing easy spells. So I guess it’s a bit our fault if you tried something more… advanced. We should have seen it coming I suppose, with all the time you spend with Willow and Tara.”
Good, Mom is not mad, which means punishment should be light.
“Is Daddy mad at me?”
Buffy gave her a serious look. “What do you think?”
“He got all grrr at me,” she whispered. “So I guess he must be kinda mad.”
“Kinda? I would say really. Not much makes him change to game face these days.”
“But why did he get so mad? It was just a spell.”
“Do you want the reasons in order or randomly as they come to my mind ?”
Both mother and daughter jumped at the intervention. Spike was by the doorway, arms crossed as Buffy had been a few moments earlier, his face still tense.
“Lets see,” he continued. “Reasons why I’m angry. You went to the attic, you know you’re not supposed to. You opened a box that was clearly marked as belonging to someone else. You tried to perform a spell while no one was in the house in case something had gone wrong. You tried to perform a spell that involves blood. You tried to perform a spell that involves your blood. A love spell, of all things! As if you were not pretty and smart enough for any bloody boy on this earth!”
He took a deep unneeded breath, and she knew he was doing that to calm himself. “Daddy, I’m sorry…”
He laughed a little. “Sure luv, you’re sorry I came back early. Tell me something. What do you think it feels like to have someone love you and to know they only do because of a magic trick?”
Joyce felt her mother grow tense against her, and looked at her questioningly, but Buffy was staring at Spike. She didn’t know what to answer, so she just kept quiet and lowered her eyes to her hands.
After a minute, he talked again, this time more gently. “I am sorry too. I did not mean to frighten you. But you have no idea how scared I was when I smelled your blood.”
Feeling tears coming to her eyes, Joyce Anne rose from the bed and went to her father hesitantly, repressing a sigh when he opened his arms to her.
“I promise I won’t do anything stupid again, ever.”
She felt him chuckle against her cheek. “Never make promises you can’t keep, pet.”
He kissed her forehead in a familiar fashion, and she knew she was out of trouble.
“Oh, and you’re grounded for a year.”
Or maybe not out of trouble…
“A year?!”
Stepping away from him, she turned to her mother, who was smiling that dangerous smile of hers.
“Consider yourself lucky, I would have grounded you until your majority.”
Down in the kitchen, Buffy was fixing herself a quick dinner, observing Spike from the corner of her eye. He had sat down at the table with a mug full of warm blood, but he wasn’t drinking it. Instead, he was staring into the dark liquid as if it held hidden secrets.
She sat across him and took his hand. A thought had been bothering her since he had talked to Joyce about magic.
“You don’t believe I’m in love with you because of a spell, do you?”
His eyes raised to hers, love filling then completely, and she felt instantly better.
“Of course not, luv.”
“Then why did you tell her what you said?”
His eyes shifted back to the mug, and he took a sip of it. “Remember our first engagement? That’s when I realized I cared about you. Because when the spell was broken, there was that big hole inside me that you had been filling so perfectly. When the Wankers council bewitched us, you filled it again, just for a few hours. And again I was torn open when the spell was lifted.”
Getting up, she walked around the table and sat on his lap, cradling his face to her chest. His arms automatically closed around her possessively.
“No spell this time, love. I promise.”
Alone again in her room, Joyce Anne was sulking. A year! Her whole life was ruined! How was she going to explain that to her friends!
Her phone rang, and she picked it up more by reflex than by will to talk to anyone.
“Hi, Joyce talking.”
“Uh, good evening Joyce, this is Anthony. Emily gave me your number. I hope that’s ok…”
Her heart started beating faster, and she struggled to answer coherently. “Sure, that’s ok. Fine really.”
“I was wondering if you would, hmm, come to the dance with me saturday.”
In a brief second, Joyce Anne went from pure delight to utter consternation. Anthony was asking her on a date! And she was grounded...
“I’d love to go with you, really, but I can’t, I’m so sorry.”
The boy sounded a bit hurt as he said : “You’re going with someone else ?”
“No! No, I’m not going at all. I can’t. I’m kinda… grounded.”
She had said the last word very low, and she was wondering whether he had heard because he was suddenly very quiet. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly hesitant. “Do you think… maybe... I could come by, and we could… watch a movie, or something?”
“You mean you want to come to my house saturday instead of going to the dance?”
Oh my god oh my god oh my god…
“Yeah, that would be cool.”
Joyce Anne’s thoughts froze for an instant as a big grin came to her face.
“Wait a second, ok? I’ll go ask my parents.”
Leaving the phone on the bed, she rushed downstairs. Spike and Buffy were cuddling in front of a movie, but thankfully they weren’t doing anything more than cuddle.
“Grounded means I can’t go out, right?” she asked in a rush.
Spike arched an eyebrow at her. “That’s the usual definition, yes.”
“So there’s nothing against having a friend come here saturday evening, right?”
Her parents exchanged a quick glance. Her father shrugged, and her mother answered.
“I guess that’s ok, as long as you stay in the house. Is it Emily or Sandra?”
Joyce Anne felt her cheeks grow suddenly hot. “It’s... Anthony, actually.”
Buffy laughed. “And you thought you needed a spell! Sure, let him come and share your grounding. It's a bit his fault after all.”
She saw her father’s eyes narrow. “Let’s even have our friend Anthony for dinner,” he said with a smirk.
The teenager ran back to her room, firmly pushing an image out of her head. Of course she hadn’t seen Spike shift to game face when he said Anthony’s name. She had just imagined it. He wouldn’t… would he?