"Going out again tonight, honey?"
Joyce Summer's voice stopped her daughter in her tracks. "Um..."
Emerging from the kitchen, Joyce smiled at her daughter. Buffy was dressed in the typical teen fashions of the day - lucky her father wasn't here. For the first time in a long time, that thought didn't bring a frown to Joyce's face. Her eyes took in the black jeans, cream halter top, and dramatically oversized black leather jacket. In fact...
"Have I seen you wearing that jacket before?"
Buffy, appearing to be on the verge of bolting out the front door, turned reluctantly to face the inquisition. "Uh... probably... I should be..."
"You've certainly been quiet up in your room since dinner. Is your homework done?" Joyce asked idly, more to buy herself time to study the situation than out of any real desire to hear Buffy lie to her again.
"Yup. Sure. Listen Mom, I really have to..."
"Go... I know," Joyce sighed. "Really, Buffy, I hardly ever see you anymore. What happened to us spending time together?"
She saw a look of genuine anguish cross her daughter's face... so fleeting as to almost be missed. "I don't know, Mom. Things are just different here from L.A."
"Yes... different. So - are you off to that club tonight?"
"The Bronze."
"The Bronze, hmmm? Are you meeting Xander and Willow? Or are you meeting someone special?" At her daughter's perceptible flinch, Joyce moved in for the kill. "That's it, isn't it? You have a date? With who?"
With a frustrated half-glance at her watch, Buffy self- consciously pulled the dark leather jacket more securely around herself. "Uh, I'd love to stay and chat, Mom, but I'm late, and..."
Joyce shook her head slightly, warning Buffy that mis- direction was pointless. "Is it with that boy? That tutor, Angel? Honey... isn't he a little old for you?"
Buffy's face twisted slightly - Joyce wasn't certain if her daughter was going to laugh or cry. "He's not..."
"So it _is_ with him. And... that's his jacket, isn't it? Are you serious about this boy? Sweetie, you're too young to be involved with a man like that. He's probably just after one thing."
Buffy groaned. "Tell me I'm not having this conversation with you, Mom," she protested. Joyce noticed that her daughter ran her fingers absentmindedly over the soft black leather even as she spoke. "Angel's just a friend!" Joyce raised an eyebrow. "A good friend... okay, a _very_ good friend. You don't need to worry about him."
"No, but I need to worry about you, Buffy. There are so many dangers out there in the world for my little girl." The expression in her daughter's eyes changed to cold steeliness for an instant. "What do you really know about this boy? Who are his parents? Where does he live? What does he do all day?"
"He works!" Buffy blurted out. "Look, Mom, I'm going to be late - I told him I'd meet him at eight. Can we do this later?"
Joyce sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "I... I suppose. Just be careful tonight, honey. You never know..."
"Yeah, I know... danger in the night, yadda yadda yadda." The golden-haired teenager wheeled swiftly, grabbed her purse from the hall table, and bolted out the front door.
Slowly, Joyce moved back into the kitchen, looking at the dishes in the sink with undisguised distaste. They could wait. She coughed a little, shaking her head - this form was so strenuous to maintain. With a sigh of relief, she let her outer facade melt away to reveal the demon within. Poor little Slayer. Off to see her boyfriend, hmmm? Eight o'clock at the Bronze... tonight that traitor Angel would get what he had coming.
Spike would be so pleased...
*****
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