Part three

All day, throughout school, Buffy couldn't wait for the dismissal bell to ring. She kept telling herself that this year would be different, she would enjoy the day off. Movies, popcorn and friends, what more can a seventeen year old Slayer, that yearns for a normal life, ask for? Well, she could think of a few, but she didn't think that every vampire would disappear forever just for her.

But, at least for the night, she could pretend...

******

"A party?" Joyce said, shaking her head, "I don't know, Buffy..."

"Mom, come on," She pleaded, "It's not like it's really a party. It's just the gang over to watch some movies, have some munchies and have a good time. You remember what a good time is? You know...pre-me?"

Joyce smiled at that, and took bread and cold cuts out of the refrigerator. Yes, she did remember what it was like to have fun. She remembered that all too well. Which was why she was still slightly hesitant. But still, Buffy wasn't just any ordinary teenager, no matter how hard she tried to be. She was the Slayer, and she had responsibilities beyond that of normal kids her age. She deserved to have some fun some times.

So, why was she so unsure about this night?

Perhaps it was the fact that she was still unsure if she could trust her daughter. She did, after all, run away, not letting anyone know where she was or if she was even alive. She wasn't so certain that Buffy wouldn't do it again if given the chance. But, as her sensible side argued, if she didn't let her have some fun every once in a while, that might push her away even further.

"You promise me that this isn't going to be a party..." She said, slapping a few pieces of lunchmeat on the bread, "Like the last one?"

"Do you have any Zombie masks?"

"Point taken. Sandwich?" Joyce said. When Buffy nodded, she proceeded to make her a quick snack. She looked at her daughter and sighed, "All right. But only a small group of your friends...and NO party."

"You won't even hear the word party come from my lips," she made a zipper motion over her mouth, "This will be a party-less house tonight...there's just one more favor I need to ask..."

Before she could get up the courage, the doorbell rang. Joyce put down the sandwich that she had begun to munch on and went to answer it. When she opened it, she saw a UPS man standing with a small box.

"Yes?"

"Ms. Summers?" the man asked. "Please sign here."

Joyce signed for the strange package and closed the door. She turned it around to see who the sender was, and noticed it was too smudged to read. She figured it must have been damaged in transit, she had only hoped that the contents inside wouldn't have been compromised as well.

"Whatcha got?" Buffy asked, looking just as curious.

"I'm not sure," Joyce admitted, "Not without opening it first."

"So you don't know who sent it?"

Joyce tried to rub at the sender sticker, as though the name might magically appear, "The name was rubbed off. But it might be something for the new exhibit."

"Yeah, or it might be from some psycho, mailing you a care package of flying shrapnel."

"Buffy, you're being paranoid," Joyce assured her, "Besides, didn't they catch that guy?"

Buffy didn't want to let the issue drop, "Well, yeah...but what if it's some other psycho saying to himself, 'Hey, this looks like fun. Let's make some bombs.'?"

"I'm flattered that you think I'm important enough to blow up, but I think I'll be fine," then, considering what her daughter said, she added, "But, if you feel more comfortable opening it...be my guest."

She handed the box over to Buffy and waited. She watched her daughter turn it over and over in her hands, shake it, and put her ear up to it. She couldn't help but to chuckle at the sight.

"Um, Buffy, honey," she pointed out, "if it was going to explode...I think it would have done so after the fifth shaking."

Buffy looked at her mom sheepishly and said, "You can't be too careful."

She gently opened the box, half-expecting for it to go up in her face. When it didn't, she peered into the package, and tilted her head. "It's a box," she said plainly. She then reached in and pulled out the small wooden box.

"So you're right," Joyce agreed, admiring the beautiful carvings that covered the object, "And an old one at that."

How old?"

Joyce shook her head, "To be honest, I'm not sure."

Then the opportunity struck home. Buffy knew what to do. "Mom," she suggested, "I bet Giles would know about it. He's like an expert at old musty stuff. You should go over there right away and show it to him. He's probably not doing anything anyway."

"Gee, Buffy," her mom said shrewdly, "You're in an awful hurry to get me out of the house. This wouldn't be an elaborate plan to have that "non-party" we were talking about, would it?"

"Mom, I swear, I didn't send you this...I don't even know what it is. But, I was going to ask if we could kinda...sorta...have the house to ourselves. Not in the partying capacity," she clarified quickly, "It's just that..."

"You don't want your over the hill...unhip mom, embarrassing you in front of you friends." Joyce finished.

"No, no. It's not like that at all. Well, not exactly like that," Buffy stammered, desperately trying to salvage her plan.

"Buffy," Joyce sighed, "contrary to popular belief, I was a teenager once...eons ago. You know...pre-you?"

"Then you understand?"

"I understand," she said, "That doesn't mean, I'm going to let you have a bunch of your friends over unsupervised..."

"But, Mom," Buffy, argued, "I'm not a kid anymore. And, come on...this is Willow and Xander we are talking about. How much trouble can we get into just watching movies?" Realizing where they lived, she said quickly, "Don't answer that."

"And another thing," she pointed out, picking up the box, "I wouldn't want to invade Mr. Giles' privacy. This is his day off too. Don't you think he would want to spend a nice quiet night at home?"

"Who Giles? Are you kidding? He lives for stuff like this. You show him this box and you'll make his day. He'll be researching 'till he's blue in the face. *And* you can find out what it is," she gave her best pouting face she could muster, "Please."

"Well, I would like to know if this is authentic..." Joyce began.

"Great!" Buffy said, hopping up and racing to the phone, like a little kid, "I'll call Giles and tell him you're coming over."

"Buffy, I didn't say..." she started to say, as her exuberant daughter ran out of ear shot, "...yes." She sighed. When Buffy made her mind up about something, it was damn near impossible to change it. Maybe Mr. Giles would be busy...

Joyce studied the box again, concentrating on the strange writings. They didn't quite look like anything she had ever seen...not that she was an expert. She was just the owner of a small art gallery, in a small town. But, over the years of putting together shows, some of which involved artifacts, she had pick up on a few things. Yet, this box was a mystery to her.

Who could have possibly sent it?

*******

Trick sat in his high-backed chair, sipping from an elegant glass and enjoying a book. As much as he loved the computer and the Internet, sometimes just sitting and getting down with a good book was far more rewarding than anything the web had to offer. Besides, it was entertaining as all hell.

"The package was delivered," the man in the well tailored suite said.

"Are you sure the trap will work?" Trick asked, looking up from 'The Exorcist'.

"Yes," he nodded, "It's designed to go off when the false bottom is moved."

Trick smiled, taking another sip, "And she will, find the false bottom?"

The man looked at his employer sipping the human blood and winced slightly. He may have to work for him, but he didn't have to like the man's habits. "Yes," he said, "It will look slightly different from the rest of the box, prompting her to open it. When it does...she will be dead in thirty six hours."

"Ah," Trick smiled, "better living through Chemestry. I love this century."

"And when it's over, you'll honor our bargain, right?" The man asked nervously.

The vampire rose out of his chair and walked over to his fireplace, "I may be many things, but I'm a man of my word. Don't worry, when it's all said and done, I'll keep my promise. And with Buffy out of the way, Faith will fall quickly after. Then..." he threw the glass into the crackling flames, "this town will be mine."

******

Rupert Giles sat at his desk surrounded by his books. Buffy had been correct in assuming that he would be overjoyed at the prospect of examining an unknown artifact. The curator in him came out and pushed the Watcher aside, as he studied the pictures on the musty, old pages. He was halfway through one of the books when the doorbell rang. He quickly got up to answer it, knowing full well who it would be.

"Joyce," he said, trying to conceal a grin of excitement, "P..please, come in. Buffy told me you had a mystery package delivered to you this afternoon?"

"Yes," she said, stepping in and handing the wooden box over to Giles, "And, here it is. I'm sorry I'm so late, I just wanted to wait until Buffy's friends arrived," she explained, "She's having a 'moviefest' at the house."

"A party?"

"She assures me no," Joyce sighed, "but you know teenagers. Truthfully, I wasn't going to come over, but I figured I have to give her a little leeway. And there is the matter of the box."

Giles shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, tonight is going to be a quiet night...so I really wouldn't be overly concerned." He picked up the box in his hands and studied it closely. "Ooo...strange writings," he frowned, "I can't quite make them out. I have quite a bit of research to do."

Joyce sat down on the couch, "Well, I suppose I have some time to kill. After all, I don't want to seem like the party pooper to Buffy."

******

"I love this movie!" Xander said, taking a handful of popcorn and shoving it into his mouth, "It says so much about the times we live in...you know, the conflict, the heroism..."

"The unending zaniness," Willow said, munching on a few chips, curled up on the floor.

"Yeah," Scott added, "isn't 'Spaceballs' a great movie?"

Cordelia snuggled up to Xander and frowned at the screen, "I guess, if you like 'Three Stoog-esque' movies."

"Isn't she so cute when she criticizes?" Xander said, putting his arm around his girlfriend. Then realizing what she said, looked at her undignantly, "Hey, what's wrong with the Three Stooges?"

"I'm not even going to begin to get into that," Then in an effort to change the subject, Cordelia turned to Buffy and asked, "I'm surprised you mom let your have this party. I mean, isn't she like your warden ever since you ran away?"

"Thanks, Cordy, for bringing that up...again," Buffy bit back. Realizing that perhaps her words seemed too acidic, she added, "Yeah, she has been kinda harsh lately. It's like she's afraid if I am out of her sight for a few minutes that I'll bolt. I don't even get to go to the Bronze unless I practically beg her. As she puts it...she doesn't want me to get into anymore unnecessary trouble..."

"So, then," Faith put in, "Why did your mom let us come over for a party?"

"I told her that there was no chance of a party here. No party, no unnecessary trouble, right? Just some friends over watching t.v. No harm in that."

"Besides," Xander smiled, "how much trouble can we get into, being couch potatoes?"

Faith got up, reached for a bag of chips and dip and sat back down on the floor, "So, B, how did you manage to convince you mom to let us be here alone?"

Buffy took a sip of soda and shrugged, "Well you know, as fate would have it...and I think fate was actually on my side this time...my mom got a package in the mail this afternoon. It was like some kind of ancient box, or something. So, I suggested she bring it to Giles, to see if he knew what it was."

"Points for creativity." Xander said proudly, "How much did it cost to send it to her?"

"That's the thing," Buffy answered, "I didn't send it. I don't know who did. But hey, if it gets her out of the house...who am I to argue with fate."

"So you think Giles figured it out what it is yet?" Willow asked, her curiosity was now peaked, "I mean could it be really old and...well...you know...special?" She said, not letting Scott know about the forces of magic that flowed freely in their 'quiet' town.

"Um...no, I hope he hasn't figured it out yet," Buffy said, "And, I don't know how 'special' it is...that is for Giles to figure out."

"Well," Faith said, downing more chips, "I hope he's having as good a time researching, as we are at this 'non-party'."

"Who, Giles?" Cordelia said, "He's like 'Mr. Researcher'."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed, "He's probably having the time of his life."

******

"Hmm..." Giles studied the box closely, "The writings are like nothing I've ever seen. That doesn't mean that it isn't authentic. Just..."

"Do you think I'm being too hard on Buffy?"

"Beg your pardon?" Giles asked, looking up from his work.

"What I mean is, do you think I'm putting too many restrictions on her? Not giving her enough breathing room?"

Giles put the box down for a moment and took off his glasses, "Not at all. Children...and young adults," he amended, "need structure in their lives. They need to feel as though it is their parents who are in control."

"Well, that was one thing I wasn't...'in control'," Joyce said miserably, "It's just that...she is so head strong, and stubborn. Some times I feel as though I don't know her anymore. Even after learning about this Slayer thing."

Giles fiddled with the lock on the box as he spoke, "I wouldn't take it too much to heart. As children grow up, they search for identities of their own. The more they become individuals, the further they seem to move away from their parents. But, no matter what happens, Buffy will *always* be your daughter, and she will always love you. It's only the relationship that will change slightly...even grow. You just have to give it some time and patience."

Joyce looked at the Watcher for a long time, as he tried to release the locking mechanism that held the secrets of the box within. For a man who had no children, he seemed very insightful about them. Maybe it was because he had spent so much time around Buffy and the others that he learned things about them...even their parents didn't know.

He knows more about my daughter than I do, she thought to herself.

She wanted to be angry with him, as she had been over the summer, but found it increasingly difficult. The more time she spent with him, planning out Buffy's future...if she had a future, the more she realized that he was a good man with good intentions. She only wished it had nothing to do with her daughter.

"Ah ha!" he said triumphantly, as the lock sprung open with a small click. Joyce jumped slightly, not at the sudden outburst from the Librarian, but at the fact that she hadn't realized she had been staring at him for so long.

"The lock opened?" she asked sheepishly.

"Yes, indeed it did," he smiled. "Now," he said, slowly opening the box dramatically, "let's see what's inside..."

They both looked into the open box. And saw...nothing.

"It's empty," Joyce said.

"It's empty," Giles repeated.

Joyce shook her head and looked at Giles, "Who would put a lock on an empty box?"

"Perhaps it wasn't empty in the past," he said, peering into the box, as though by some magic he could restore what ever was once inside. He then sighed and stood up, "Would you like some tea? I know I could use some."

"Sure," she said, "But then I have to be going. If you want you can keep the box for a while, until you can figure out what the writings say."

"Thank you," he said from the kitchen, putting on a pot to boil, "I'm sorry that the box isn't what you expected. Perhaps with enough research I can learn about what it was once used for."

"Yes, that would be very helpful," She replied, looking around the desk, for a book that might help. As she moved one of his volumes, her hand brushed up against a small pink crystal. She picked it up and held it in her hand, feeling the strange warmth that it generated. "This is a beautiful crystal," she commented, "Where did you get it?"

Giles came back into the living room and gently took it out of her hand, "It was a gift from a friend."

Realizing he meant the late Jenny Calendar, she said softly, "I'm sorry, if I intruded in your personal life. I didn't mean to."

"No...no, that's all right," he said, remembering the earring he still had in his pocket, "It's just not something I'm used to talking about."

"She must have been very special to you." Joyce said sympathetically.

"Yes, she was."