Buffy Summers, Alien Slayer
Buffy Summers, Alien SlayerAuthor:
The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.Rating:
FR13Summary: In any universe, Joyce Summers doesn't react well to her daughter's unique occupation.
tthdrabbles #37 - plunder; tth100 #82 - Gloves.Spoilers:
B:tVS pre-series but post-movie; Independence Day (1996). Tag to my earlier fic, "No Victory Dance".
Buffy watched incredulously as her mother scurried around the hotel room with a damp washcloth and a sample-sized bottle of disinfectant cleanser. "Mom, the world just almost ended. I think they're a little more worried about the evil planet-plundering aliens than whether or not our current living quarters can pass a white glove test."
Joyce sank to a seat on one of the room's queen-sized beds, nervously wringing the rag in her hands. "I know. It's just-- the President is coming. Here! To meet my daughter!"
Buffy sighed and sat down next to her, reaching for one of her mother's hands. "Mom, it's okay; it's not like he's coming here for lunch, or anything. The Watcher's Council told him about me so I could hunt down alien survivors on the government payroll, not host a party."
"I know you're right," Joyce said, squeezing Buffy's hand. "But..."
"Don't worry, Mom," Buffy interrupted her, pretty sure of what was really upsetting her mother. "I know what I'm doing, and there'll be back-up; I'm not going to get killed."
"You'd better not," Joyce replied, tearfully. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too," Buffy said, and wrapped her up in a hug.