In the Beginning
SUMMARY: They always go on about how Buffy wasn't a 'Council trained' Slayer. What if she had have been?
DISCLAIMER: *sighs* Not mine.
PAIRING: No romantic stuff, just explores friendshippy niceness. Lotsa B/G, B/Ethan, B/X, W/X etc.
SPOILERS: Pretty much everything.
NOTES: If you've read my fic 'Blackness of Sunnydale', you'll notice the pattern of me hating Hank. ;) Also, the time differences don't really mean much. They're probably wrong for all I know. Ooo, but the dates are actually all correct!! I'm pretty proud that the days fall on the actual dates in the different years. Yay me! And, I don't know jack about New York, or Ireland or Russia or Romania.
CHAPTER ONE: JOYCESaturday: 5pm
25th January 1986New York
It was raining that afternoon, the one that changed her world. He'd been drinking. Again. It was only five o'clock, and already he was so far gone that he'd forgotten her name. She sighed and looked towards her daughter. The love of her life.
Her daughter grinned up at her, completely oblivious to the drunken man leading them out of the hotel. They'd come for his business. He was a lawyer, one of the best. Hank Summers. Beloved husband and devoted father. Or, so his colleagues thought. His wife, Joyce Summers, would have informed you otherwise.
Their exceedingly precocious daughter, who had only just turned five years old the week before, was Beth 'Buffy' Summers. The only thing in the world that kept Joyce from going completely insane and leaving her husband for good.
Hank took the keys out of his pocket and Joyce immediately became worried.
"Hank, why don't you let me drive?"
She hated this part. He always said no, telling her that he was fine. Today was no exception.
"I'm fine," he snapped, unlocking the car. He only fumbled the keys twice while trying to find the lock. Joyce swallowed nervously and carefully strapped Buffy into the child seat in the back, making certain that she was safely buckled in, holding the stuffed pig that had been a birthday gift from Joyce the previous year. Where Buffy went, so went the pig.
Joyce took her seat in the front, buckling her seatbelt and waited for Hank to start the car.
She hated New York, always had. When Hank had asked her to come, she had been reluctant, but Buffy had pleaded with her.
"Wanna see the Big Apple momma. Daddy promised. 'Sides, it's my birfday."
Who could have said no to that? That was why she had packed herself a bag and one for Buffy and left their home in LA and flown to New York. Hank had rented a Mercedes for the week, hoping to impress their clients. Sometimes, Joyce wondered whether Hank even loved her and their daughter or if he merely considered them as trophies to show to his clients and colleagues.
The rain was making it hard to see, and even with the windscreen wipers going as fast as they could, Hank was still having problems.
"Damn rain," he swore under his breath.
Buffy giggled, but immediately quietened when her father gave her a warning look. "Sorry daddy."
"S'okay princess. The rain's just making it hard for daddy to see," he replied.
Joyce looked out the window, willing herself not to clench the seats of the car too hard. Her hands were already beginning to cramp up. She was too preoccupied with trying to not appear to be nervous that she wasn't watching what Hank was doing. And it was in that second of not watching the road that her world went black, and her daughters high pitched screams were the last thing she heard before the pain took over. Joyce Summers completely blacked out while her husband lay sprawled over the bloodied steering wheel, never to wake up again.
Buffy could only cry silently until the ambulance came, hugging her pink pig to her chest, refusing to let go.
(I am aware that Buffy is technically NOT blonde, but I really don't care. That and Joss has seemingly forgotten that as well…gotta love continuity.)
The two Summers women were taken to the hospital while the 'man of the house' was taken to the morgue. Whispers among passers-by of the accident had seen the small girl and whispered among themselves about how sad and tragic it must be for her.
The hospital staff worked to keep the small blonde girl from screaming in pain as they worked to remove four shards of glass that had cut into her arms. They had tried to take the girls pig away from her, but she had steadfastly refused to give him up without biting whomever tried to take it. They eventually gave up and let her keep the stuffed animal, but were still having troubles getting the girl to stay still while they removed the glass. After realising that Buffy was not going to be quiet any time soon, they quickly sedated the girl, letting her fall into a healing sleep as other doctors in the ER worked frantically to keep the girl's mother alive.
For nearly an hour, doctors operated on Joyce Summers, trying to get her lungs functioning without a machine, trying to make the woman regain consciousness. Without any luck, they induced were forced to induce a coma and hooked the woman up to a respirator to help her breathe.
With both mother and daughter unconscious or asleep, the hospital staff moved their talents to other patients and waited until they could do more. One of the staff, a nurse from England, quickly informed her supervisor that she was taking a break, and quickly made a phone call.