His head was spinning and pounding at the same time, if that were possible. Not quite sure where he was or how he got here, he remained still with his eyes tightly shut. When the spinning finally slowed, he braced himself and raised his head off his right arm, which was squished into the arm of the sofa. He cast a cursory glance around the room, taking in the take-away containers, pizza boxes, and empty liquor bottles littering the floor of his flat.



Jesus, mate! Can't even make it to the bleeding bed and pass out like normal person. Fucking shoulder hurts like a bitch, and I don't even know if I can stand. Christ! I'm pathetic.



William Elliston stood on trembling legs and turned to make his way to the half-bath in the hall. As he walked his head pounded harder, his vision was slightly blurred causing him to see spots. He felt an unexpected wave of nausea wash over him, and he barely made it to the toilet in time. He wretched until his throat felt the burn of his stomach's acidic contents, and his abdominal muscles ached from the strain of the expulsion.



Two hours later, this is where his godfather, Rupert Giles found him, lying in the fetal position on the floor of the half-bath.



"William, William, William—" His voice grew more insistant with each address. Finally, he bent over and shook him.



William made an incoherent groaning noise, which seemed to incite Rupert to rage. He kicked him swiftly in the shin and shouted, "Get up, you gormless berk! You reek, and I can hardly stand the sight of you! If your parents weren't dead, they'd die of shame, were they to see you in this state."



The last words seemed to strike a chord, and William slowly pulled himself up. "You shut your bloody gob! You fucking arse!"



William started to sway and Rupert quickly gripped his bicep and righted him.



Rupert sighed and lowered his head as he and William wended their way through the refuse of bottles and boxes to the living room. "Forgive me. Come on, son. Let's have a sit down and see what we can work out. Do you remember the last time you ate?"



William ran a hand through his dirty curls and winced. "What's today?"



"It's Thursday evening about seven o'clock. When's the last time you left this apartment?"



Both the room and William were so malodorous, Rupert had to inhale through his mouth in order to continue breathing. William may have been locked up in this rubbish bin for days, but Rupert seriously doubted he could remain here much longer.



William leaned back against the pillows of the sofa with his eyes closed. "I think I had lunch with Richard from Whitlow on Monday afternoon. They want to advance me for a new book. Anything I want to write to about, but I don't know if I can do it again. I told him I'd think about it and get back to him. Stopped by the liquor store and came home. Don't remember much after that."



William sat up, moving things around on the coffee table, searching for his cigarettes and lighter. Seeing this, and knowing he couldn't take another noxious odor, Rupert suggested they move out onto the patio.



Rupert sat down in one of the patio chairs and exhaled, thankful to be out in the warm, fresh, spring air. "There, isn't this nice? A bit of fresh air will do you some good."



He tried to sound jovial, but it rang false, and William plopped down in chair opposite him, rolled his bloodshot eyes, and gave him the two-fingered salute.



Rupert sighed yet again. "I gather you've not been taking your medication? I hope not if you've been drinking all this time. Why don't you get a shower and fresh clothes, then we'll talk some more."



William narrowed his eyes and wagged a shaking finger at him. "Look, I don't recall asking you to come barging over to play nursemaid. If I wanted a naughty nurse, I'd find someone gender-opposite, with finer features, and several years younger than you, thanks."



Rupert turned his head to the side and pinched the bridge of his nose, desperately trying to remain composed.



"There's no need to be crass. I was merely suggesting you clean up and come over for dinner with Olivia and me. I could arrange for a cleaning service to come tomorrow and tidy things up around here. I know you William. When you're at your best, you don't like to live this way. I love you like my own son and only want to help you. Will you let me, please?"



Rupert put a hand on his forearm and lightly squeezed. He was not one for huge displays of affection, so this was his version of a bear hug.



William let out a put-upon sigh and said, "Furthermore, I can take care of my own affairs. I'm thirty years old, and a published author. I think I can manage to call a cleaning service on my own." William took another long drag off his cigarette and thumped his fist against the arm of the chair. "I'll go, but only to see Aunt Liv."



William disappeared back inside the filthy apartment and Rupert took out his phone to call his wife.



Olivia answered straight away.



"It's worse than I could have imagined." Rupert answered, the horrible image of William collapsed on the floor still fresh in his mind. " But he's alive and coming to dinner. Make up the guest room, and see if it's not too late to book a cleaning service for in the morning." He sat back and waited.



While he waited he thought about how he could help this drowning soul. He needed direction and someone who would be hyper-vigilant and not kowtow to him. The perfect person came to mind, and he thought she would be more than grateful for the chance.



He would contact her as soon as possible. Now, he just had to get though the rest of this evening. Rupert decided to wait for William outside. The less time spent in that den of filth the better. The place was living science experiment. William would probably have to pay at least three times the normal cost, but he had the means.



William's book, Hostile at Seventeen, a scathing satire about ageism, had been a critical and commercial success. Whitlow House, a small, but well respected name in the publishing world, published the novel. They were based in Boston, and since Rupert and Olivia were in the area, William decided to leave London and his drab existence behind. He'd been in Cambridge a little less than a year. As far as Rupert knew, everything was great, with William feeling success for the first time in his life. The money was nice, but the sense of accomplishment, of completion was the greatest thing.



Rupert looked up to see a rumpled but clean William, dressed in a ratty Pavement t-shirt, jeans, and worn pair of Converse sneakers. "Are you ready? My car's just downstairs."



William ran a hand through his still damp curls. "Yeah, and so's mine."



Rupert looked at him pointedly. "I'm well aware of that, and that's where it's bloody well going to stay. I just picked you up off the floor less than an hour ago. If you think I'm going to let you behind the wheel then you know bugger all!"



William's cheeks flushed and he huffed as if disgusted. "All right, just let me get my wallet, and we can be off then."



The fifteen-minute drive to Rupert and Olivia's was awkward at best. Rupert tried to engage in him conversation, but all he got were monosyllabic answers. William mostly just leaned against the window with his eyes closed. Rupert pulled onto his tree-lined street and found a parking spot right in front of his gate.



"We're here," he said, shutting of the engine and turning to William. "I'm sure Olivia is just putting the finishing touches on dinner. I hope you're hungry." He tried to sound enthusiastic, but William was making it difficult.



"Great, it will be good to see her." His voice was toneless as he got out of the car and headed toward the house.



Rupert opened the black, wrought iron gate, holding it for him to enter, then followed him up the path to slate gray, Greek Revival, he and his wife called home. He was about to unlock the large, polished oak door, when it swung open to reveal a small woman with skin the color of roasted coffee beans. Her black hair was woven into small braids, and her large brown eyes shone with warmth as she took William's hand and pulled him into a hug.



"Oh, Will, it's so good to have you with us," she said, rubbing his back. "It's been an age since I've seen you. You look as though you've lost a stone. You need to come inside, and let me fatten you up."



William hugged her back. He loved his Aunt Liv. She'd always been so kind to him. She and Rupes were the only family he had now. He was rather embarrassed for her to see him in this state, but he was sure she already knew all the details. However, the one thing he knew about her was, she would never judge him, and he was grateful to have at least one person like that in his life.



"It's good to see you too, Aunt Liv. Dinner smells delicious. Is there anything I can do to help?" William asked as they walked into the entryway.



Olivia turned and said, "Why don't you two wash up, then Will, you can help me get dinner on the table. Rupert, don't you have some calls to make?"



"Ah, yes, I do. Thank you for reminding me. I'll only be a moment."



Will entered the kitchen, the aroma of food smelling heavenly and making him queasy at the same time. He knew if he just ate he would feel much better. "It's looks like you've gone to a lot of trouble for me. Ta, but you shouldn't have bothered."



She took his hands and gave him a look of mock reproof. "Don't be a git. Take these and put them on the table," she said, smiling and handed him a bowl of carrots in tarragon butter.



Together they brought out the rest of the food, and Rupert came in just in time to sit down for dinner. William noted Olivia had already set out the glasses, and there was pitcher of homemade lemonade on the table as well. A symbol for the colossal fuck-up he was.



Dinner was going smoothly, and he was enjoying the meal, the beef tenderloin was prepared medium rare, just the way he liked it, and he found himself feeling better on a physical level as well, when the chair was figuratively pulled from beneath him.



"Will, I've arranged for a cleaning crew to come round in the morning and tidy your apartment. I think it's best if you stay with us this evening. That way you won't be uncomfortable while they're there, and they can be in and out sooner," Olivia said, taking a sip of lemonade and going back to her dinner like she'd just said, "pass the rolls."



Will's fork clattered onto his plate. "I'm sorry. Did either of you think to ask me how I might feel about this? Because, Let me tell you. I bloody well hate the idea of strangers rifling through my things when I'm not there!" He made to stand, but Olivia's hand on his arm stopped him.



"If that's how you feel about it then I'll take you over in the morning, all right. Either way it has to be done. Surely, you have to agree with that."

It was days like this Buffy wished she didn't have to rely on public transportation or her own two feet to get her where she needed to go. Rather than carefully selecting her clothing, as she preferred to do, Buffy threw on a top and some jeans, pulled her hair into a loose ponytail, and dashed out the door with a glance at her watch. She had a meeting with her mentor and former professor, Dr. Giles in fifteen minutes at Rejavanation, a local coffee spot, and it would take at least that to get there on foot. She didn't have time to worry with her bike, and set out at a power-walk pace down the busy sidewalk.

Dr. Giles had called earlier this morning and asked her to meet him about a job opportunity. Anything would beat her current position as a part-time nanny for a pair of horrid parents and their miserable, entitled children. Buffy didn't think it was right to strike a child, but sometimes they made her ponder changing her position. Whatever Dr. Giles had in mind, she hoped it would be something challenging where she could use her degree.

She'd just finished her undergraduate studies at Lexington College with a degree in English and a minor in Marketing. She planned to start her postgraduate work in the fall, pursuing an MA in Modern and Contemporary Literature, with the goal of a career in journalism or publishing.

Buffy was only a minute or two past her meeting time when she reached the small coffee shop. Taking a deep breath, she approached the door and entered.

Inside the small shop was cozy, the walls painted in jewel tones and decorated with art made by local artists. The area was divided into two separate spaces: a sitting room with overstuffed chairs and a sofa, and a separate area filled with small café tables. Dr. Giles was seated at one of tables.

Buffy walked over to stand in front of the table. "Hello, Dr. Giles. How are you?" she asked, hanging her bag on the empty chair. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Oh, no, I just arrived. Shall we go and order?" He stood and gestured for her to go ahead.

Buffy ordered mocha from the counter, while Dr. Giles requested a cup of black tea with cream and sugar. He paid for both, and they went to their to table to wait for their drinks.

"So, Buffy," said Dr. Giles, clasping his hands together on the table. "How's my star pupil enjoying the freedom from school?"

Buffy blushed slightly at the compliment. "Well, I can't say I miss all the papers and the deadlines, but it sure beats the job I have now."

"Oh, and why is that?" Dr. Giles visibly brightened and leaned forward.

"Well, I'm not exactly in a position to employ my degree. I'm a part-time nanny and the pay is fine, but my employers, and especially their children, are almost demonic,"

Buffy said, laughing nervously. "I mean, I don't hate children, but these two have never been told no in their lives. They have no respect for anyone they think is below them, meaning me."

The server, a guy with green hair and a pierced lip, brought them their drinks. He was wearing a t-shirt that read, "Snatch" in bold letters with the words "coming soon" beneath it.

Buffy rolled her eyes. Some people will do anything for attention.

Dr. Giles gave her warm smile. "That sounds spectacularly dreadful," he said as he prepared his tea. "Fortunately, I think I have just the position for you."

Buffy cupped her hands around her mocha and leaned forward slightly. "Oh my God, that would be awesome! I mean, really that sounds great I'd love to hear more."

"My godson is a writer. His first book was published a little over a year ago, and he's been asked to write another." He took a sip of his tea. "He's, shall I say, rather scattered, and could use some help with organization, scheduling, correspondence, and regular day-to-day activities. It would require that you be available around the clock, so you would have to live on the premises. Is this something that would be of interest to you? I'm sure he could at least triple your current salary."

Buffy could hardly believe her ears. This was her dream job! She'd get to utilize her degree and maybe make some contacts as well. She had a few kinks to work out, most notably the living situation. She shared an apartment with her friend, Fred, an arrangement they'd had for the past two years, and Buffy didn't feel right about ditching her. Plus, she'd have to put half her things in storage, and that would cost a mint.

Buffy drummed her fingers on the table excitedly, and she couldn't help smiling. "Wow, that sounds like an amazing opportunity, but I have a roommate, and I can't just move out on her. We've lived together since junior year, and I have a lot of things—"

Giles put his hand in his lap, and looked down at the table, not meeting her eyes. "That's a shame. I'm sure Mr. Patton will be sorry to hear that."

Buffy nearly choked on her mocha. "I'm sorry, did you say Patton? As in Spike Patton?"

Giles looked up and placed his hands back on the table, smiling. "Well, yes, that's his pseudonym. I'm guessing you're familiar with his work?"

Buffy hoped her jaw hadn't dropped onto the table. Surely she heard wrong, but there were no other new authors by that name living the Boston area. She'd be absolutely crazy to pass up a chance like this. She had to figure out a way to make this work.

"Yes, sir, you'd have to be living under a rock not have heard of him! Hostile at Seventeen is an amazing book. I couldn't put it down. Its narrative is unmercifully sharp, and its acerbic wit on the subject of ageism from the perspective of a teen is truly original. He must be very insightful. I'd love to meet him."

Buffy forced herself to quit talking before she started babbling like some crazed fangirl. "I-I mean, if things work out, that is," she said, clearing her throat and taking a drink of her now cold mocha.

"Well, he's a bit under the weather at the moment, but let's you talk things over with your roommate and get back to me," Dr. Giles said. "I'm sure for the months you would be helping him something could be worked out regarding your rent. If all goes well, you could start, say, next Wednesday?"

Giles looked at her intently, awaiting her answer.

"Let me talk to my roommate, and I'll call you tonight or first thing in the morning. Does that sound fair?" Buffy reached out and offered her hand. "I really want to thank you for thinking of me. You know I'll do my best. You won't regret hiring me."

Shut up, Buffy. Let's keep the gushing to a minimum.

Rupert took her hand, then patted the top of it with his other. "I know I shan't. You're the perfect person for this position. He can be scattered, and he's occasionally reckless with his words, but I trust you to keep him in line. He's a good man, one of the best I know."

Buffy withdrew her hand and stood. She was still smiling, but his last exchange had her worried. "Doctor Giles, what do you mean, keep him in line? I won't work for someone who thinks they can harass me."

Rupert's eyebrows rose, and he started to reach for his glasses, stopping at the last second. "Oh, no! I only meant he's in need of a bit of assistance at the moment. He would never make an advance toward you."

Buffy let out a breath. "Oh, good. I thought I was going to have to quit before I started. If you don't mind, I need to get going. I've got some errands to run, then I need to talk with my roommate. I'll call you in the morning, if that's okay."

"Yes, quite. Have a good evening, and I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow."

Buffy made her way out of the shop, her mind running a mile a minute. This was the chance of a lifetime. How lucky was she? What kind of man was Spike Patton? She didn't really know a lot about the man himself, only what she'd read on the dust jacket and that was almost nothing. Buffy hoped he'd be as kind as Dr. Giles. Hopefully, Fred would take things well. She was doing an internship this summer and tended to throw herself into her work whether she was paid or not, so Buffy knew she wouldn't be seeing much of her. Buffy also wanted to call her mom and dad. She knew they'd be excited for her, but she didn't know how well they'd like the idea of her living with her boss. All these thoughts and a million others were skittering through her head as made her way down the street.

She couldn't believe her luck!

When Buffy got home she found Fred in shorts and Lexington sweatshirt, sitting on the sofa, channel surfing, and eating Wasa crackers with jalapeno pimento cheese. Her chestnut ponytail swayed as she turned to smile at Buffy.

"Oh, hey stranger. Feels like I haven't seen you in forever. Been at the Lawsons'?"

"No, thank God! I just came from having coffee with professor Giles." Buffy was almost bouncing with excitement. When Fred didn't take the bait, she said, "Well, come on! Don't you want to know why I'd be having coffee with one of my old professors?"

Fred's blue eyes danced with mischief. "You've always had the hots for him, and now you've a torrid affair? It's the classic May – December romance!" she said, smiling and gesturing dramatically.

Buffy put down her shopping bags and sat beside Fred on the battered sofa with her hands on her cheeks.

"Oh, yes! How'd you ever guess?" she said, barely containing her laughter. "I'm his paramour. Damn you, Winifred Burkel! Damn you to hell!

Both girls collapsed into a fit of giggles. Fred even snorted, making Buffy laugh harder.

"Okay, okay, stop. I have to tell you the real reason I met him. He offered me a job with Spike Patton–"

"Huh–you're kidding right? How would he even know Spike Patton?" Fred's eyes widened, and she was wearing the look she often wore when she thought someone was pulling her leg.

Buffy was wringing her hands and tapping her foot on the floor.

"Nope, I'm not. Dr. Giles is his godfather, and he was looking for an assistant, he recommended me. Mr. Patton must have liked what he heard. He let Dr. Giles offer me the job, and I start on Monday."

Fred reached over and hugged her. "Oh my gosh, Buffy that's so exciting. But what are you going to do about the Lawsons?"

Buffy sat back and took a deep breath. "Well, there are a few things I need to tell you. I have to live with him, but he will pay my share of the rent while I'm there, so don't worry about that. I mean if you don't want to live by yourself and want to find another roommate that's fine too. As for the Lawsons, I'll call them tonight and give them my resignation. It's not as if they've ever treated me well. I'll give them a few days notice, and she doesn't work, so she can watch her own kids until she finds another nanny. Besides, they haven't paid me half of what they owe me, and I'm sure I'll never see that money."

Fred bobbed her head excitedly. "You're right. You were living The Nanny Diaries without the cute boy and nice kid. I'll miss you when you're not here, but I don't want to go through the hassle of finding another roommate. I think we're pretty good together. Don't you? And how great is it that he's willing to pay your rent? Sounds like you've got it made, sister." Fred smiled and poked Buffy's leg with her toe.

Buffy looked a bit solemn for a moment. "I know. But Dr. Giles just said her was going through a rough time right now or something like that, so I hope I can help."

Fred leaned up and put her hand on Buffy' leg. "Listen. If anybody can help him, it's you. You were the head of your class, and you're kind and funny. He'd be crazy not worship you as the goddess of assistants."

Fred's infectious optimism wormed its way through Buffy's doubt, and she couldn't help but smile. "You know, I think I like the sound of that."

Sunday Morning

William's alarm went off at nine, and he lay awake, already nervous about the rest of day. Olivia had arranged for him to meet Buffy Summers today for brunch as a casual way to start things off–to get a feel for one another, so to speak. He'd been relatively sober since Thursday, if you didn't count the half bottle scotch he'd drunk that night, along with the case of beer and the almost fifth of Stoley's he'd gone through since Friday evening.

Olivia picked him up first thing Saturday morning. She'd said he needed to furnish the third bedroom. He used the smallest one for his office, but since Buffy was moving in, she would need a place to sleep and put her things. They bought a mattress first then went furniture shopping at the same store Olivia had picked to furnish his apartment when he'd first moved in. It was a vintage and mid century modern place, and he found a 1950's dresser, chest of drawers, and two nightstands for the bedroom, as well a small desk, and chair for Buffy to go in his office, all at great bargain.

Olivia said the deep honeyed tones of the bedroom furniture would look great in the pale green room, and she also chose two small lamps for the nightstands. They had a quick bite of lunch then stopped to buy linens for the bed. Those, William just let Olivia choose.

Their last stop was Whole Foods, to buy groceries for the week. She'd surveyed the cupboards when she arrived and, appalled at the lack of food, said there was no way the two of them could live on take-away. When they arrived back at his apartment it was after six, and he was worn out. They brought everything up, and he assured Olivia he would take care of it, but she insisted on staying until things were put away. The mattress and the furniture would be delivered on Monday, so making up the bedroom would have to wait.

She finally left, but not before getting his promise to be at her house at ten forty-five the next morning. He really loved his Aunt Liv, but Jesus, she was persistent sometimes. She finally left, and he could drink and smoke in peace.

William had a slight headache when he awoke, but he'd definitely had worse. He got up and threw on a pair of pajama bottoms before making his way to the kitchen. He seriously thought about making a Bloody Mary, but decided it wise not to push his luck and instead, settled on a piece of Weetabix in milk and a cup of coffee.

After his quick bite he took a shower and shaved. While brushing his teeth, he noticed his eyes were bloodshot, so he administered some drops to remove the redness.

He quickly dressed in jeans and an old Buzzcocks t-shirt, noticing he had to cinch his belt an extra notch. He then went in search of clean socks and a pair of shoes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done laundry, and all his shoes seemed to be missing. They were usually wherever he took them off, but he forgot the cleaning people had been there. He looked in his closet, and there they were, all in neat rows, dress to casual. He really wanted to go for the grotty pair of Converses in the corner, but he settled on a nice pair of brown leather impose shoes. Above the shoes hung all his jackets, likewise organized, and he picked out the most likely candidate and slipped it on. He grabbed his wallet and keys and hurried out the door with enough time to stop for some flowers.

Buffy had just finished drying her hair and applying her make-up. She surveyed the clothing on her bed, one hand on her hip, the other poised on her chin, her brow furrowed as she focused. She felt as though she'd just been asked to solve some critical mathematical theorem. She needed to leave in the next ten minutes, and she had yet to choose an outfit. She quickly settled on a steel blue, brushed silk tank dress, gathered at the waist with a swingy, handkerchief skirt that hit her knees. Small silver hoop earrings and silver braided thong sandals completed the outfit. One last look in the mirror, and she was on her way. She arrived at the T station and purchased her ticket for the red line to Cambridge. Thankfully, it was a straight shot, and she wouldn't have to change trains. She'd lived in Boston for four years now and still wasn't quite sure why the area's light rail and subway system was referred to as the T. That was just one of the many little quirks of the Boston area that she'd come love.

William rang the bell at ten forty-five on the dot. Giles greeted him.

"Oh, William, gerbera daisies. My favorite. How thoughtful of you to remember." Rupert grinned and reached to take the flowers. "Olivia will be so jealous."

William rolled his eyes and kept walking toward the kitchen. "Ha, bloody, ha. Bugger off, you fucking knobhead."

"William, tsk, tsk, such language," Rupert said with feigned surprise.

"Yeah, and who do you suppose were the blokes who taught me such filth?" he asked snidely.

"Surely, you're not suggesting your father and I corrupted you in your youth?"

"Nope. Primary school's more like it. Thanks to you two, I became a connoisseur of every soap on the market."

Rupert looked flustered, and William delighted in his discomfort.

Just then Olivia came in the kitchen. "William, what a lovely bouquet. You know they're my favorite," she said taking the colorful flowers from him and enveloping him in a hug. "What are you two arguing about?" She looked from one to the other, her mouth set in thin line.

Rupert cleared his throat. "It's nothing, darling."

Olivia looked between the two and didn't seem convinced.

William slapped Rupert on the back a little to soundly. "Yep, nothing to worry about. We were just having a bit of fun. Talking about old times. Eh, Rupes?" He stepped away from Rupert and moved further into the kitchen. "Everything smells delicious as usual. When's the girl—what's her name again?—arriving?"

"Her name is Buffy, and she should be here any minute." Olivia said as she arranged the flowers in a vase. "Please try to remember her name. We should make her feel as welcome and relaxed as possible. Remember, she'll be the only one here who doesn't know everyone."

She eyed both men as if to say they had better do as she said, or else.

Buffy bit her lip and straightened the imaginary wrinkles in her dress a few times before ringing the bell. She tried to rehearse conversations in head on the ride over, but everything sounded stilted. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and waited.

In a moment the door opened, and a beautiful woman with a perfect English accent greeted her.

"You must be Buffy. I'm Olivia Giles. Please come in." Olivia put her arm around Buffy's shoulders and ushered her through the door. "May I take your bag?"

"Yes, please. You have such a lovely home. Thank you for having me."

Buffy took in her surroundings. The walls were a rich blue, and the rooms on either side of the entryway seemed to be decorated in English antiques and Persian rugs. She saw the dining table was already set.

"I hope I'm not late," she said, frowning slightly. "I had to take the T, then a cab to get here."

Olivia put Buffy's bag in the hall closet. "No, of course not. You're just fine. I'm glad you like the house. Rupert and I searched forever until we found a place that felt like home. Come on, everyone's in the kitchen."

Buffy followed her down the hallway and into the open kitchen. She liked Olivia already. She was warm and friendly. Buffy hoped she would get the chance to know her better.

"Excuse me, boys," Olivia said. "Buffy's arrived. Buffy, you already know Rupert, and this is William."

Buffy hoped she didn't audibly gulp. She wasn't generally the type of girl who went ga-ga over a man's looks, but he was beyond handsome. Tousled honey-blond curls emphasized his pale, angular features, and his eyes were the same color as her dress. Knowing he had the brains to go along with the looks made the package all the more alluring.

Wait! Hold on the phone! This is your new boss. Put a lid on the sexy thoughts.

Buffy stepped forward and offered her hand. "Hi, I'm Buffy Summers. It's a pleasure to meet you."

William looked at her and smiled. Buffy felt as though his eyes were boring into her. He lingered a bit before taking her hand.

"The pleasure's all mine, Buffy. I'm William Elliston. I'm looking forward to working with you."

He kept eye contact with her until Buffy looked down. "Yes, I'm looking forward to it too. I'm hoping you can give me a clearer picture of what I'll be doing. Dr. Giles was a little vague."

He cleared his throat and said, "Yes, well ambiguity is one of Rupes' many talents."

Buffy didn't quite know how to respond to that statement and thankfully, Olivia called everyone into the dining room for brunch just at that moment. They all went inside, and Buffy noticed the head of the table had not been set. Olivia ushered her to her seat, then sat beside her and Dr. Giles and Mr. Elliston sat across from them.

Olivia passed the asparagus to Rupert, then to her and asked, "Buffy, where are you originally from?"

Buffy took a moment to swallow. "Oh, I'm originally from California. I came to Lexington on scholarship. I really love it here, and I don't think I could go back. I know you're from London, but how long have you been in Cambridge?"

Olivia tilted her head as if to think a moment. "Ah, let's see, I believe we'll have been here ten years in August. Isn't that right, Rupert?" She looked to him for confirmation.

"Yes, dear you're quite right. It doesn't seem that long ago, but I guess it has been."

Buffy noticed William shoot him a disdainful look. "Mr. Elliston, how long have you been here?" Buffy asked.

"Buffy, please call me William. I hate that mister nonsense. It's so priggish, and I can't be that much older than you." He grinned and shot a glance at Rupert. "I've been here about eight months," he said, with a bit a sigh after the last word, sounding less than thrilled.

Buffy decided to try and lighten things up. "Well, I'm sure it must be exciting to have just moved to a new country, and I'll be there on Monday to help you get everything organized."

Olivia spoke before anyone else could. "Buffy, William and I went out yesterday and got everything you'll need. All you'll have to do is bring your laptop and personal items. We even went grocery shopping. Don't let William fool you. He's a great cook."

Buffy laughed nervously, her fork poised over a piece of ham, then said, "I'm no gourmand, but I know my way around the kitchen, so we shouldn't starve. Thanks for taking care of that." She looked to William, whom she found already had his eyes trained on her. "I was wondering what time you would like me to be there tomorrow."

He chewed his bottom lip and tilted his head. "The furniture is being delivered first thing, so why don't we say eleven. I'm sorry if Aunt Liv gave you the impression I expect you to cook for me. I need an assistant, not a bloody housekeeper, pet." He smirked at her, took a sip of his iced tea, and went back to his meal.

"William, if you'd like, I could come over in the morning and help you get everything set up." Olivia's voice was kind and reassuring.

William raised his head and smiled at her, his eyes shone with gratitude. "Thank you, Aunt Liv. You're a star. Are you sure it's no trouble? I feel like you've already done so much."

"Of course not, love. I'm more than happy to," she said, her voice filled with reassurance. "Rupert, your not going to need the car in the morning are you? You've been awfully quiet."

Rupert set down his fork and raised his head. "No, I won't be needing the car. I'm sorry I haven't been very verbose. I just haven't felt I had anything to contribute to the conversation."

Olivia reached over and put her hand on his arm. "Nonsense, Rupert. Buffy was your T.A. last semester. I'm sure you could tell William what an asset she was to you."

Rupert cleared his throat and looked around the table. "Ah, yes, well, of course. Forgive me, Buffy. I've forgotten my manners."

Buffy gave him a weak smile and fidgeted with her napkin. "No, please, you're fine."

Rupert set his napkin on the table. "No, I've been terribly rude. William should know how invaluable you were to me last semester. You were always punctual, insightful, diligent, and industrious. You have an uncanny knack for seeing beneath the façade and getting to the heart of the matter. Your organizational and administration skills are bar none, and your technological skills make me appear a Luddite. William is very fortunate to have you coming to work for him."

Buffy felt her cheeks burn and she wished she could crawl underneath the table. She knew she had the job, but the little speech made her feel like he was trying to sell someone on a new car.

"Well, that's a ringing endorsement if ever I've heard one. I've never heard such approbation for anyone from Rupes. I'm looking forward to working with you."

"Um, well, thanks. Same here," Buffy said, trying not to sound uncomfortable.

His tone had been light, but she detected an edge of bitterness in his voice. She wondered if she'd gotten herself into something she had no business being a part of, and she still didn't have a clear definition of her duties.

Buffy hoped she'd have to the chance to speak with William alone after brunch. She needed a clear definition of her responsibilities, as well other things, like time off, an exact salary amount and how it would be allotted. She wanted to do her best for this man, especially after the Buffy praise-o-palooza she'd just sat through.

William sat on his couch, his third vodka tonic in hand, pondering the day's events. The sodding brunch was nothing but a bloody farce. God only knew what the poor woman made of their pseudo-family. It was fucked up, that's for sure. Sweet Aunt Liv, always trying to see the good side of things, and good ol' Rupes. The bloody bastard had his moments, but he could be as harsh and critical as his own father.

Birds of a bloody feather.

He certainly hadn't expected her to be so stunning. She was a tiny thing, but fit and graceful. Her dark blonde hair fell in soft waves around her face and her green eyes were large and expressive. She gave off an air of confidence. He expected a T.A. of Rupert's to be matronly or bookish, but this was definitely not the case. She was truly a right bit of stuff.

Don't go thinking with your todger, mate.

That would surely lead to misery. Besides, she probably thought he was ancient at thirty. And Christ! She was not only going to be working for him, but also living under his roof. Hardly the right circumstances for casual shagging, because Lord knows he wasn't looking for a love match.

He finished off his drink, lit a cigarette, and poured himself another glass. This was his last night of free drinking. From now on, he'd have a housemate to keep him from over indulging. By God, he was going to live it up.

Buffy finished packing the last of her things and hoped she wasn't taking too much. She really didn't know what she'd need in the way of clothes. She guessed she should have asked that at brunch, but everything was just so…discordant and strained at times, especially between Dr. Giles and Mr. Elliston—or William, as he'd asked her to call him. Oh God, she could barely fathom being on a first name basis with the author of Hostile at Seventeen. Anyway, by the looks of the way he was dressed today, dressy casual should do, and if not, with her nice new salary, she would be able to afford some new things.

Once brunch was over, they were able to talk alone for a few moments. He presented her with a sheet of paper with a salary figure, expected duties, and a daily schedule, which showed her only day off was Sunday. Everything seemed reasonable, except for the one day off. She'd hoped she would have Saturdays off as well, especially since she was going to be living with the man. He said he would have a contract for her to sign tomorrow, so perhaps she could negotiate with him.

Buffy wondered if Mrs. Giles, or Olivia, as she insisted she call her, would be there tomorrow. She'd really like to get to know her better. The older woman was very interesting. She seemed to provide the balance needed between the two men, and she'd shown her around the house, pointing out different pieces of art and things of interests, telling Buffy their history and how they'd acquired them. Olivia had been very kind to her. She'd given her all her numbers and told her to call anytime she needed anything, but Buffy couldn't imagine why she would. It appeared as though she liked to coddle William. William seemed to have genuine affection for her, but didn't take well to the coddling. She'd be sure to remember that, not that she would coddle in the first place, but she'd be sure to give him plenty of space.

William dreamt fitfully. He was back in his childhood room, and he was six years old. He had just turned on his little cassette player and turned the volume up as high as it would go, but he could still hear their yelling. He put his hands over his ears to muffle the sounds. Suddenly, he sat straight up in bed. God, he hated that dream.

The shrill ring of telephone chased away the remnants of the dream. He picked it up, his voice thick with sleep.

It was his Aunt Liv. He greeted her and asked the time as he rubbed his throbbing temples. He decided he'd best get a move on and promised to have coffee waiting for her when she arrived.

It was seven fifteen. He'd have just enough time for a quick shower and a straightening of the living room before she got there. He downed some ibuprofen before he got in the shower and afterward made quick work of his morning routine before getting dressed. He grabbed the ashtray and glass from the living room on his way to the kitchen and made sure to put the half empty bottle of vodka away, along with the rest of the evidence of drinking. He sprayed some air freshener to get rid of the cigarette smell and put the coffee on then went outside for a quick smoke.

It was seven forty-five by the time he finished, and Olivia would be here any minute. She was bringing some pastries from a local bakery, and he was glad since his stomach was queasy and could use something solid to calm it. The phone rang and the doorman said she was on her way up. He opened the door for her when she rang the doorbell and stepped aside as she came bustling in.

"Good morning, William. Did you sleep well?" Olivia asked, kissing him on the cheek. "Let's go in the kitchen. I'm dying for a cup of coffee."

William gestured with his arms. "Right this way, ma'am. One cup of coffee coming right up." He got the cream from the refrigerator and the sugar from the cupboard. "Let me just get some plates. Would you get some napkins?"

They were soon seated at the small kitchen table. William took a bite of his chocolate croissant.

"Well, the delivery men should be here any minute. I told your doorman to send them up. How do you feel about this, since it's really happening?" Olivia held her coffee mug, poised to take a sip.

"I'm a bit jittery, I guess. I've always lived alone, and having someone around I don't know is going to be very odd."

William took a long sip of his coffee and sighed before he spoke. "I could pretend to be knackered very early every night, then go to my bedroom and read."

Olivia shook her head and chuckled. "Silly boy, the two of you are going to get on fine. I have a good feeling about this. Just be yourself, and tell her what you need her to do. She seems like a lovely young woman."

The conversation was halted by the arrival of the furniture and the mattress. Once the furniture was in place and the mattress laid, Olivia made the bed and arranged the lamps. When everything was done, it was nearly ten-thirty. Olivia said goodbye, and William was left to wait for Buffy. He went down to the front desk to let them know she'd be arriving, and asked them to have someone help her with her things. He then went to Tony, the doorman, and gave him enough cash for her cab fare and a tip for him and the driver.

Buffy surveyed her room to make sure she hadn't left anything she might need, but she supposed if she did, she could always come back and pick it up. It wasn't like she was moving across the country. Though she imagined her new digs would be a far cry from the shabby duplex she shared with Fred. Her bags were all by the door, so she went into the living room to wait with Fred. Fred looked up from the book she was reading as Buffy entered the room.

"So you're all ready to go? This is really exciting, your first real job. One that might start your career!" Fred, perhaps noticing the look on Buffy's face, poked her shoulder. "Are you still feeling jumbly about the whole thing?"

Buffy let out a breath and hugged a throw pillow to her chest. "I know this job could be a ginormous break for me, and he seems really nice. Like I said, yesterday was kinda wiggy. You know, not him, per se, but their whole dynamic."

Fred just nodded without saying anything, and Buffy chewed on her bottom lip. "The cab should be here any minute. I told them to be here by a quarter after ten. Everything's ready to go, and I have directions, but I didn't want to be late, because of traffic."

"I'm sure you're just worrying over nothing," she said, her Texas drawl drawing out each word.

The sound of the cab's horn from outside propelled Buffy up off the couch and toward the door.

"I guess that's your ride," Fred said, already getting to her feet. "Promise we'll talk as much as possible, and call me tonight to let me know how thing are going."

With the driver's help, they put the last of the things in the car. The girls hugged and Buffy was off. Traffic wasn't bad, so they made good time. The driver pulled into the circular drive of the high-rise apartment building, and a uniformed doorman quickly opened her door.

"Hello, you must be Miss Summers," the dark haired man said in a thick Boston accent.

"Yes, I'm Buffy," Buffy said, a little surprised.

"I'm Tony. Mr. Elliston said he was expecting you. You can go to the desk, and they'll tell him you're here. I'll have someone bring your things up."

Tony headed around to the trunk with the driver to start unloading her things. Buffy asked the driver how much she owed.

"Oh, no, Miss," said Tony, before the driver could answer. "Mr. Elliston's already taken care of everything. You just go on inside."

Buffy just shrugged her shoulders and went inside the opulent lobby. She found the desk easily and told the perfectly coifed women whom she was there to see. The woman ran an appraising eye over her before reaching for the phone.

"Yes, Mr. Elliston, your guest has arrived. Shall I send her up? Thank you." She looked back to Buffy. "Take one of the elevators behind you to the twelfth floor. Mr. Elliston's apartment is the fifth one down. Number twelve-zero-five."

Buffy smiled her best I'd-love-to-take-you-down-a-peg-or-two smile. "Thanks so much. I hope you have a pleasant day."

Buffy stood outside the apartment with her finger hovering over the bell. She finally just squeezed her eyes shut and pressed, and that's how he first saw her.

"Buffy, are you okay?" William asked as he opened the door.

"Uh huh–I mean yes, I'm fine. Just had something in my eyes, but they're all better now," she said, quickly, her cheeks burned like she'd fallen asleep in a tanning bed.

He must have been standing on top of the freaking door!

"Come on in," he said, stepping aside for her. "Your things should be up shortly. Can I get you something to drink?"

She followed him through the entryway, down a corridor, and into the living room. It was a large space with a wall of windows overlooking the Charles River. A set of oak French doors led out onto a spacious patio. The room was sparsely decorated with vintage and mid century modern furniture. Some interesting pieces of photography decorated the back wall, and another other wall had floor-to-ceiling shelves containing an entertainment center and library. The final wall housed the fireplace and mantle, but there was nothing on the mantle or above.

Buffy took all this in, trying to decide what it said about him. It was kind of sterile, and aside from his choices of books and music, showed nothing really personal about him. This room wasn't giving anything away.

"Sure, that would be of the good," she said.

"All right, the kitchen's this way," William said, walking toward the wall of windows and turning left through an alcove.

Buffy looked around the spacious, pristine, industrial kitchen. "Nice kitchen. It looks like you use it a lot."

William snorted and turned to look at her with a little smirk on his face. "Oi! You're awfully cheeky. How do you know I'm not just insanely tidy?"

Buffy looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and pointed to the pot rack over the range. "These pots hanging over your stove don't have any marks on them. They've never been used."

He smiled as the color rose in his cheeks, and his eyes crinkled a little in the corners. "Ah, you've found me out. I've never made a meal in this kitchen. I live off take away and cold cereal. Now, what do want to drink?"

"I'll have a diet Coke, but you've got to start eating better. I think it's part of my job description to make sure you do. Olivia is going to come over once a week and check the fridge."

"I don't have any diet Coke. I've got orange juice, milk, and water. And as far my eating habits go, you can pretend you care, but don't." William held the fridge door open, waiting for her answer.

"Take out may work for you all the time, but neither my waistline nor my pocketbook can handle it every meal. I'll have some orange juice, please. I'm used to cooking, so I'll just cook, and you'll eat. It's as easy as that." She took the juice he handed her and thanked him.

"Hmm, that sounds so easy, but what if I don't like your food? What if it's rubbish?" He smirked at her.

Her eyes widened. "My food is not rubbish, but if you don't like it, then by all means waste your money on stupid take out," she said, sounding more haughty than she'd intended. She was going to lose her job in less than an hour.

"Jesus, I was only having you on. Don't get your knickers in a twist over something so silly." He rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

Buffy spoke quickly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say what I said. Sometimes I misunderstand things, then my mouth starts with the words, and please, don't fire me."

"Yeah, I have a tendency to shoot off my mouth too, so we're even. I have no intention of firing you." William looked down at her and raised his eyebrows in question. "We good?"

Buffy sighed in relief. "Yes, we're good."

Just then the doorbell chimed.

"That'll be your things. Come on. I'll show you to your new room."

Buffy followed him down the hall, thankful to still have a job.

The moment Buffy set foot inside her new room, she was in love. It was gorgeous and twice the size of her old one, as was the closet. The furniture was fantastic, and it was all pieces she would have chosen for herself if she'd had the money. Luxurious, snow-white bedding made the room feel more like a boutique hotel than anything Buffy imagined she would have.



She walked into the bathroom and was delighted to find a large, deep tub encased in tiny blue and green tiles as well as a separate shower. The green tiles were almost the exact shade of the walls in her bedroom. The vanity spanned the length of the smallest wall, with cabinets underneath and two drawers, giving her plenty of space to put her things. She'd definitely moved up in the world living wise.



William had suggested Buffy unpack, but she felt she needed to be working. So after putting her toiletries away, Buffy headed for the living room. It was empty, so she called for William but got no response. She found him in the kitchen, standing by the refrigerator swigging a beer. That was a little odd, since they hadn't even had lunch, but she supposed it wasn't any of her business.



"Hey, I decided to finish later," she said. "I thought we could get started on some things now."



William jumped as if he'd been caught stealing, nearly dropping his beer. "Fuck! You scared me! I didn't hear you come in. Warn a fella next time."



Buffy felt like she was being chastised. "I did. I called you and you didn't answer, so I went looking for you. I was doing the talky thing the whole time."



William threw the now empty bottle into the trash and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I didn't hear you."



He didn't seem sorry, more like petulant.



"It's Okay. I just thought we could get started with the work of working," she said, keeping her tone even so she didn't piss him off twice in less than two hours. "I need a cell that's linked with yours, so I can handle the majority of your calls from now on. We either need to go out and get one, or you can order one from your service provider and have it overnighted. Are you good on office supplies, or do we need to get those as well? I can't do my job unless I have the stuff I need."



He stared at her for a moment looking dazed. "Um, okay. Check the office and see what you need, and we'll get the shopping done after we grab some lunch. That all right with you?"



Buffy nodded. "Sure, sounds great. I'll go have a gander, then meet you in the living room."



As Buffy left the room, William leaned against the refrigerator and ran his hands over his face. God, she'd already caught him. He couldn't gauge her reaction either, and that made him nervous. William grabbed the bottle from the trash and the other two from the counter behind him and made a mad dash for the garbage chute in the hall outside his apartment, hoping he didn't get caught. He was as quiet as possible and made it back in time to have a cigarette.



Buffy came into the room with her purse on her shoulder and her cute little nose scrunched up in detestation.



"Hey, I'm ready to go," she said, her gaze landing on his cigarette. "How about you? I made a list of things we need."



He took a drag off his cigarette and exhaled before he spoke. "Something wrong, pet? Is my having a fag bothering you?"



The smoke dispersed around him, making its way toward her. Buffy looked at him with wide eyes, her mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to say something, but thought better of it.



"I–uh. It' not up to me to tell you what to do. But hey, if you want ruin your lungs, waste your money, and stink up your apartment, you just feel free."



Color rose on her cheeks and she clapped her hand over her mouth.



William threw back his head and laughed. "Bloody hell, woman, you should have a license for that tongue. It's sodding lethal."



Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and hit her side with her fist. "Oh, God. Oh, God. I'm sorry, but you asked, and I have this overwhelming urge to be all truth-telly, even if it gets me in trouble."



She looked adorable when she was flustered, and Jesus Christ on a crutch, she was pouting!



Shaking his head, William walked onto the patio to put the cigarette out and returned to the kitchen, smoke free. "Look, I don't have to smoke inside all the time. I can go out on the patio. While we're out today, we can go to Harvard Square, and you can get some candles from one of those posh shops. How does that suit you?"



She smiled and let out a deep breath, her green eyes sparkling. "That's pretty generous of you. Thanks. Can we go now?"



She fidgeted with the strap of her purse and looked everywhere but at him.



William put a hand in his pocket and motioned for her to go ahead of him. "After you."



William pulled the car onto Mass Ave. and found a parking spot. He suggested they come to Elephant Walk, a Cambodian-French restaurant. Buffy had never had Cambodian food, but said she was game to try anything. He got out of the car and went around to her side to open her door. She was pushing, as he was pulling, and her eyes widened as she stepped out of car, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.



"I'm sorry if I offended your feminist pride by opening your door. I'm just used to being a gentleman. I am aware you're capable of opening a door on your own," he said, with a little bit of mischief in his voice. It was fun to see her in a dither.



Buffy looked as if she was caught between a snide retort and thanking him, as she looked up into his eyes and a slow smile came across her face. "I think being a gentleman is very nice. I don't think anyone's ever opened a car door for me. Kinda makes me feel like a star or something. I think it's something I could get used to."



William leaned back on his heels and raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm glad to know I didn't offend you. Shall we go in?"



"Yes, please. My stomach stomach might eat itself soon."



William noted that Buffy deliberately waited for him to open the door to the restaurant, which he did with a flourish. "After you, Miss Summers."



The hostess showed them to the upstairs dining room, placed their menus on the table, and told them their server would be with them shortly.



Buffy, sitting on a banquette opposite William, looked around the room at all the art on the exposed brick walls. "This is a cool place, and it smells yummy."



William smiled. "I'm glad you like. I hope someone comes soon. I'm bloody starving."



They sat back and perused the menu. William said they should start with an appetizer, and Buffy told him he could choose. A few moments later a young woman clad in black arrived at the table. They both ordered blackberry spritzers, and William picked Cambodian spring rolls as an appetizer.



They were ready to order by the time the server returned with their drinks. William ordered the curry, and Buffy ordered the roasted chicken with mushrooms and potatoes gratin. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, until William asked her a question.



"How do you feel about travel?"



Buffy took a sip of her drink and tilted her head to the side. "That's a pretty general question with a lot of contingencies. I'm afraid you'll have to be teensy bit more specific."



William smirked and rolled his eyes. "Nothing is ever easy with you, is it pet? I meant like a lecture tour. The publishing house wants me to do a one-week tour. My agent thinks it's a good idea, but I haven't given the full go ahead."



He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. "I was wondering what your thoughts were. It would be really fast-paced, seven cities in eight days. Let's face it. If I've learned anything about you today, it's that you'll be frank."



One arm was crossed and her chin rested in the palm of the other. "Since you mentioned it, I thought you'd be funnier in person."



William narrowed his eyes at her and she laughed. "I think it's a good idea, but I'd like to see the details first. Do you think you can get those this afternoon?"



William smiled and gave her a little mock salute. "I'm impressed. I'll call my agent right now and get him to email them to me. You can look them over while we're running errands. If you'll excuse me, I'll go and do that right now,"



"Sure, no problem. I'll be right here."



William headed downstairs to the bar and ordered a double Stoley's on the rocks. He dialed his agent and got him on the first ring. It was hard to come up with a lie as to why he hadn't called him back in the last week, but Eric seemed to be appeased at the possibility of the lecture tour and said he'd email the details over immediately. William told Eric about Buffy and how, from now on she'd be taking most of his calls. Eric assured William he would call back later in the day with all the information. When the call finished, William downed his drink, paid, and went back upstairs.



Their appetizers arrived just as William got back to the table. The spring rolls were delicious, and the vinegar dipping sauce was the perfect complement.



A short while later their entrees were brought to the table. They ate and talked about one thing or another companionably.



"This is beyond good. I'm glad you suggested it. I'm going to have to learn how to make this," she said, putting another forkful in her mouth.



"I need to taste it then, just to see if it's rubbish." He leaned over and opened his mouth, waiting to see her reaction.



Buffy pulled her plate close to her in a possessive manner and toed him in the shin with one of her fashionably, pointy pumps. "This isn't rubbish, and it wouldn't be if I made it either. You just stay on your side of table and eat your food." She gave him a haughty smirk, but he knew she was teasing.



William's eyes went wide, and he jerked back in his chair. "Ow! Bloody hell, you're a feisty chit, did you grow up on the streets in California?" He tried to feign offense, but he couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice.



Buffy swallowed and rolled her eyes. "Um, yeah the mean streets of Pasadena, suburb of L.A. I was in a gang and everything. That's how I got my scholarship to Lexington. They don't just give them to you for academics. You have to have extra curricular activities as well," she said, deadpan.



William countered her eye roll and smiled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "You're a–never mind. I think I remember one of the cities on the tour being Los Angeles. Does your family still live there?"



He watched her face light up as she smiled. "Yes, my parents and little sister still live there. I don't get home very often. Usually only at Christmas. They were here for graduation, but it would be awesome to see them."



William smiled back at her, warmed by the love she clearly had for her family. "That's great. Seeing them is top priority. How old is your little sister?"



She gave him a small grin and bit her bottom lip. "I should say younger, because she's not little. She's fourteen, a good five inches taller than I am, and thinks she's a sophomore in college instead of high school. I always thought she was a real brat, but now I miss her," Buffy said, looking wistful.



William laughed, took a bite of his curry, and swallowed. "Hmm, that bratty thing is interesting. Sounds like you have a lovely family."



"Oh, I do," she said, with a sigh. "My mom and dad have been married for twenty-five years. I'm one of the few people I know whose parents are still together."



He must have made a face, because Buffy flinched and seemed to shrink down in her chair a little. "I'm sorry to go on about my family. Olivia said you lost both your parents. I can't begin to imagine how painful that must be. 'I'm sorry' doesn't seem remotely adequate or appropriate to say. Do you have any siblings?"



"No, no, I don't have any siblings," he said, averting his eyes before she could read anything else in them. "It's just me. Are you about done here? We need to get a move on if we want to get all this stuff done today."



When Buffy nodded, William called for the check and threw a wad of cash on the table to cover it. He stood to leave without looking back, assuming she would follow.



Buffy walked behind him and stopped at the car, but he reminded her about the candles and she didn't argue. William was all business as they did their shopping and returned to the apartment, barely saying two words to her the entire time.



Buffy put the office supplies away in silence, and couldn't stand it any longer. She found William outside on the patio having a cigarette and a beer. She approached him cautiously and sat down beside him.



"Um, hi. I just wanted to see if you were okay. You've seemed sort of wigged about something since lunch. I wanted to make sure I hadn't somehow put my foot in my mouth again."



He looked over at her, and she could see sadness in his eyes. He smiled, but the sadness remained. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry if I've been an arse to you this afternoon. I've just had a lot on my mind. I'm a decent bloke. I may yank your chain, but I would never intentionally be unkind to you. Why don't we go in and look over those cities?"



They went inside and sat down on the couch. Buffy grabbed the pile of papers off the coffee table and held them up.



"The cities are, in order: New York, Seattle, Los Angeles, Dallas, Chicago, St. Louis, and Atlanta. The tour would start on Monday and end on Sunday, with a flight back here Monday morning."



She leaned back a little, pulled her hair off her shoulders, and stretched. "I'll take a look at all the venues tomorrow and make sure the accommodations are up to your standards, plus make sure they book an extra room for me. How does all this sound to you?"



He looked at her and put his hand on her knee. "Sounds like you've already outdone yourself. You're a star."



The warmth of his hand sent tingles up her spine. She told herself he was just being grateful. "Well, I think I'll go finish my unpacking now. See you in a little while. Maybe we can see if we have the same taste in television."



William smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "All right, but I'm not watching any poncy reality shows." He gave her a mock scowl.



"Oh, thought for sure you'd be a man who DVR'd every episode of Dancing with the Stars."



"Oi, piss off, you cheeky bint!"



Buffy just laughed as she backed out the room.

Buffy heard the sound of her alarm and reached for it blindly, disconcerted for a moment when it wasn't in its usual place, until she remembered where she was. Yesterday, she started her new job, and today would be her first full day. Buffy dragged herself out of bed and went to her chest of drawers to pull out some clothes for running. Buffy wanted to get a few miles in before work. After Buffy brushed her teeth and pulled her hair into a ponytail, she grabbed her iPod and headed into the kitchen.

Buffy found the coffee and set the machine up, so all she'd have to do was turn it on when she got back. William said he wasn't an early riser, so she didn't figure he'd be awake before she returned. Buffy was about to head out the door when the thought occurred to her to take her phone. It wouldn't be good to start her first official day of work missing a call, even though it was six-thirty in the morning, and Buffy really didn't think anyone would be calling so early. She grabbed it just in case.

Buffy said hello to Tony, the doorman on her way out, he gave her a friendly greeting and wished her a good day. Tony pointed her in the direction of the jogging paths, and she was off.

Yesterday, they'd gotten several menial tasks done, but not a lot of real work. Buffy needed to make the arrangements for the lecture tour this morning and see what else William had for her.

William was still somewhat of a mystery to her. He hadn't shared much about himself, and there was virtually no public information about his private life. Buffy was completely in the dark, knowing only what little she gleaned from her observations. He and Dr. Giles seemed to have a rather strained relationship, and Buffy wondered what that was all about. Dr. Giles had always been the epitome of kindness to her.

After the awkward afternoon yesterday, they'd spent a nice evening watching Spaced on DVD. Buffy finished unpacking while William ordered pizza. They couldn't find anything decent to watch on television, because everything was in reruns, so William told her to have a look at his vast DVD collection. Buffy was delighted to find Spaced, and he was surprised she even knew the show, but she explained what a huge Simon Pegg fan she was and told him it had aired on BBC America for a short time.

They watched the British anti-Friends, laughed, and made a game seeing who could find the most pop culture references in each episode. William won by a narrow margin. By the evening's end, he'd gone through a six-pack of John Smith, and Buffy was amazed he didn't seem the least bit buzzed. He offered her one, but she tasted it, and it was much too heavy and bitter. William asked Buffy what she liked to drink, and Buffy told him she didn't drink often, but when she did, she drank bold red wines or dry cider, claiming not to be an expert on either. He told her would make sure to have her favorites available if she ever wanted anything.

Buffy reached the one and half mile mark and turned to head back. The sun was higher in the sky now, and there were rowers on the Charles. All in all, it seemed as though it was going to be a lovely day.

"William, my sweet boy. You have to help me."

William saw himself and his mother sitting at the kitchen table in his old house. He knew by his looks he was about twenty, so this didn't make sense. His mother had been dead for two years, yet there she sat with her head in her hands, her words coming out in strangled sobs. He tried to reach out to her, but the table seemed to grow, and she moved farther away.

"Mum, of course I'll help you. Tell me what you need me to do."

A harsh bark of laughter came from her lips. "What to do. What to do. Why, William, you know you can't do anything. You're useless. You always have been. I'm the only one that loves you, and I have to, because I'm your mother."

William felt the sting of tears and his jaw ticked, as he held back the words he really wanted to say to her. "Come now, Mum, have you been taking your medication?"

He got up and went to the cupboard to get her pills and a glass. He poured some water into the glass from a pitcher on the counter and brought the pills and glass to the table.

"Mum, Mum, I need you to look at me, please. You need to take your medication, and you'll feel much better. You have to remember to take them every day."

She kept her head in her hands, her face hidden from his view. "Do you love me William? Do you love Mummy?" she asked, her voice muffled by her hands.

"Yes, Mum, of course I love you, and I want you to feel better. Please, stop this, and take your medication." William tried to put his hands on her shoulder, but it was as if there was an invisible barrier he couldn't penetrate, stopping him just short of touching her. "Mum, Dad would want you to take your medication. If you won't do it for me then do it for him."

Her arms collapsed and her head fell forward onto the table. A low keening wail came from her. After a few moments she whispered, "He doesn't care. Your father's dead, and you're partially responsible."

William's eye's flew open and did a quick survey of the room. His body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and twisted in the sheets. This was a new version of the same old nightmare. He could never see his Mum's face or touch her, only hear her voice. If he could only touch her or see her, she might be the kind mum he had glimpses of when he was a child, before her illness completely took over.

He slipped out of bed and walked toward the bathroom to take a piss and have a shower. The hot spray felt like individual heated pinpricks on his skin, a little unpleasant, but deliciously so. William thought back to the dream and his own battles with depression. He knew he should be taking his medication, and he thought today might be a good day to start again. He knew he would have to curb his drinking, but maybe he could tell Buffy, and she could help him keep it under control. William decided he would have to think a little more heavily about that.

After drying off and brushing his teeth, he took his medications for the first time in three months. He dressed and followed the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

William found Buffy at the kitchen table with some papers, a cup of coffee, and a container of yogurt in her hand.

"Morning. Looks like you've been up for a while now." William walked to the counter, picked up a mug Buffy had set out for him, and poured himself a cup of coffee. He then went in search of the cream and sugar. "Any interesting faxes?"

Buffy eyed him with his still damp hair and bare feet, wondering if this was the way she would be greeted every morning. If so, she wasn't complaining. Something about a freshly showered, barefoot man was just so sexy, and William's feet were pale perfection.

"Um, your agent sent the dates over for the lecture tour. He said he'd be sending the rest of the information over later this morning, hotel, outlines of what they want you to talk about, names of hosts in the different cities, that sort of thing." She took a bite of her yogurt and waited for him to reply.

William leaned against the counter and cradled his mug in both hands. "That sounds great, with the exception of telling me what to talk about. That would be a no. I'll talk about what I bloody well please."

His brow furrowed and he began to pace. "I can choose something before we leave, and you can send it to them, so they'll have an idea, but I'm not going to say the same fucking thing for seven straight nights," he said, his eyes darting to hers looking for her reaction.

She raised her eyebrows and smiled at him. "No compromising the artistic process of the talent. Got it."

He winked at her and smirked. "Too right! Say, how long have you been up? You've gotten an awful lot accomplished this morning."

Buffy felt her cheeks heat up as he looked to her for an answer. "I, uh, got up about six-thirty, went for a run, then came back took a shower, got dressed, and saw the faxes.

It's nine thirty now, and I'm just sitting here having my breakfast." She tilted her head and gave him her best no-big-deal smile.

William poured himself another cup of coffee, and he turned, offering her some as well. She held out her cup. "My, my you've been a busy little bee this morning," he said. "You should have worked up quite an appetite, and all you're going to have is a tiny cup of yogurt? You'll faint on me before lunch."

He started to laugh, but thought better of it when she glared at him.

"I have yogurt every morning," Buffy said. "I generally have a protein bar after I run, but you don't have any of those, so I'll have to wait until I can get to the store. I've never fainted in my life. Thank you very much!"

She finished her little speech and let out a little huff of indignation.

William held his hands up as if he were about to surrender. "Whoa, looks like somebody's blood sugar is a little low. I was merely offering to make you some breakfast, like say, eggs, and some bacon. Maybe a piece of toast?"

Buffy's eyes widened and she hit her forehead with the heel of her right hand. "One day, I'm going to learn to control my mouth. Thanks, I'd love some."

William chuckled and his eyes did that crinkly thing in the corners. "You're welcome, and I hope I'm around to see that day, though I don't think anyone will be. Because it's never gonna happen, pet."

She felt a tingle go up her spine, and before she could stop herself, the words were out of her mouth. "Oh, yeah? I bet I can go the rest of the day without saying something I shouldn't." She slammed her fist on the table for emphasis.

He reached behind his head and scratched the nape of his neck, raising his eyebrows and smirking at her. "You've got yourself a deal. Now, what do I win when you lose?" he asked, as he got the eggs, milk, cheese, and bacon out of the fridge.

Buffy rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Shyeah, like you're gonna win anything, but if you do, I'll let you pick everything we watch on television."

William grinned a wolfish grin, shook his head, and looked at her across the island. "Uh, uh. We like the same shows. Where's the fun in that? What kind of music do you like?"

He cracked the eggs into a bowl and added a touch of milk and salt and pepper from the shakers sitting on the island.

Buffy scrunched up her nose and thought for a moment. "I don't know. Uh, I like dance music, like Scissor Sisters…" she said, watching him intently as he whisked the eggs.

He choked back a laugh. "So you like mindless poof music? Check. No taste." He pulled a pan down from the overhead rack and went to grab some butter and olive oil.

Buffy felt her whole body tense and to remain calm, she counted backward from one hundred. If it were possible, steam would have been shooting from her ears about now.

In a carefully measured tone, she said, "No, I just like fun music I can dance to. I don't think that has any real bearing on me as a person or my intellect."

He poured the egg in the pan, stood back, and waited for her eruption.

"Oh, but what kind of music you listen to does say so much about what kind of person you are. If all you listen to is pure drivel, then people will think you have no taste, and you're not capable of comprehending any more than said drivel," he said in his most condescending tone, placing the cooked bacon and cheese on the eggs and folding them over.

Buffy held her arms straight and stiff as boards by her sides. The words were clawing at her throat, begging to be set free and by God they were going to be. "I suppose you're a true connoisseur of music. What's cool? What's not? I should sit at your feet and be grateful to learn from the master. Well, let me tell you some–" She gasped and turned away quickly.

A beat passed. His rich laughter could be heard throughout kitchen as he plated the omelet and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Miss Summers, I'll give you time to have your breakfast, then we'll begin the lesson."

They listened to early and middle era Rolling Stones all day while they worked, and Buffy had to admit she liked them a lot, not that she was ready to tell William that. However, she was sure he noticed on his own, by her humming or moving to the music at times.

The next few days went on much same way. They listened to different bands while they worked, giving Buffy a taste of the kind of music William liked. Things were going smoothly, and Buffy really felt she had made a good choice accepting the job. Then Saturday rolled around, putting things into a new perspective.

Or maybe one she'd turned a blind eye to.

Saturday Morning



William appraised his reflection after taking his medication. It had been five days since he'd started taking his medication again, and he was limiting himself to three drinks a day. He thought it would be hard as hell, but it actually hadn't been bad. Buffy was always there. He never realized how lonely he was until he had someone in his life every day.



William's history with women wasn't exactly stellar. He'd never had a relationship that lasted more than a couple of weeks. He always sabotaged them in some way or just lost interest. Mainly, it was the latter of the two. Sure, he'd bonk a chit, but he'd never wanted any real emotional attachment.



William never felt he had the capacity to love and more importantly, couldn't imagine any woman loving the colossal mess that he was.



William scrunched up his nose and stuck out his long, pointed tongue, before deciding he needed to quit fannying about and finish getting dressed. He and Buffy were going to brunch this morning then to buy some herbs for the large concrete planter on the patio. Afterward, they were going to do the weekly grocery shopping.



Buffy—God, she was a breath of fresh air. She was witty, smart, and efficient, but could she certainly knock him down a peg or two if he got too big for his breeches. William seemed to have an uncanny knack for pushing her buttons as well, and he delighted in doing so, just to brass her off. She was adorable like that—drawing herself up to her full five feet, as though she were twice the size and full of piss and vinegar, her green eyes flashing as she verbally flayed him. William had never experienced anything like that with anyone before, and he should be ashamed to admit that it turned him on to see Buffy in such a state. He wasn't.



William enjoyed introducing her to new music this week, and though Buffy pretended to hate a lot of it, especially the punk, he caught her bouncing around and singing the words to Jawbreaker's "Boxcar" more than once. Hell, he just enjoyed being with her. William knew there was no way she'd ever think of him as anything beyond an employer or a friend at best. She was way too good for the likes of him.



William shook the thoughts from his head as he splashed on a bit of aftershave and ran a hand through his hair to tame his short curls. Then he went into his room to finish dressing, and a few minutes later he heard her call to him. He tied his shoes and walked out the door.



"Would you hurry up already? I'm hungry. Anyway, you're supposed to be the one waiting on me, not the other way around." Buffy looked up from the magazine she was reading as she heard him walk into the living room. "What's the matter? You have trouble getting your eyeliner straight?"



Buffy held a magazine just below her eyes, waiting for a verbal attack, but when none came, she looked a little perplexed.



William picked up his wallet and keys. Turning back to her, he said, "Little Miss Cheek, I'll have you know I can probably apply eyeliner with more precision than you." William let the remark sit and went on. "Are you ready to go? I know what low blood sugar does to you, and I definitely don't want that on my hands."



Buffy stood and picked up her purse. "Okay, we can go, but will you give me a make-over sometime?" She walked over and put her hand on his muscular forearm, looking at him seriously. "I didn't peg you for a cross-dresser. Are you gay, or do you just like to feel like a woman sometimes?"



William moved her arm; although he liked the way it felt on his skin and gave her a light shove toward the door.



"Bloody Christ, woman, you're a nutter. However, if you if find yourself missing some of your delicates, you'll know where they've gone. " He gave her a smirk and a wink.



She turned around to look at him, her eyes wide as saucers and her mouth gaping.



"Y–you're a twisted puppy, and besides my underwear wouldn't even fit you!" She stomped her foot for emphasis.



He looked at her red face, threw back his head, and laughed. "Tell, me pet, are you this volatile all the time, or do I just bring it out in you?"



Buffy bowed her head and looked truly cowed. When she lifted her head back up, she looked him in the eye. "I can honestly say, I'm a spirited person, and I don't let people run over me. However, I'm embarrassed to say, I've never in my life been this bitchy to anyone. It's a wonder you've not thrown me in the Charles this week—hell, after the first day. You make me lose my temper in ways I never imagined, but then you make me feel completely ridiculous about it five minutes later. I'm guessing the eyeliner is a punk thing. I should have gathered that from your musical selections this week."



Buffy held out her hand, "Truce?"



William took it in both of his, skimmed his thumb over the top of her hand, and looked down into her eyes. "Yeah, sounds good. Let's go eat."



She held his gaze, and Buffy looked almost shy as her cheeks flushed with color. William held onto her hand for a moment longer before releasing it, and she seemed almost bereft at the loss of contact. He was utterly confused.



They'd chosen to have brunch at Café Luna in Central Square on Mass Ave., because Buffy had read it was one of the best places in Cambridge. The small eatery looked inviting. The wrought iron tables and chairs outside were already filled with people, so they went inside and asked about a table. The host told William there would be a twenty-minute wait, but they were welcome to sit in the bar. He gave the man his name, and he and Buffy headed to bar to wait for their table.



William pulled out a chair at one of the tables in the bar for Buffy, and she climbed up and put her purse in the empty seat beside her, as he sat down next to her. The bartender came over and asked for their drink orders. William ordered a Bloody Mary and Buffy a mimosa, and both ordered coffees as well.



"Want me to get us some menus, so we'll know what we want when we finally get a seat?" he asked.



"Sure, that sounds great. The quicker I make up my mind, the sooner I'm fed." She smiled a little devilishly. "It's a good thing I'm having some orange juice to keep my blood sugar stable. Who knows what might have happened?"



"Yes, that is a good thing. I'll be right back."



Buffy watched him walk away and admired the view. William's jeans weren't too tight, but they definitely fit well. She wondered what he thought about her. Moments like just before they left the apartment, when he held her hand, made her think she saw something in his eyes, but she thought it was probably just wishful thinking on her part. William could have any woman he wanted, any time. Why would he want an inexperienced girl who shoved her foot down her throat every time she opened her mouth? Not that she wanted a relationship with her boss or anything, but a girl could still look, right?



William came back and handed her a menu, and she took it from him gratefully.



"All right, hmm, I see what I'm having," Buffy said, closing the menu.



He arched an eyebrow and gave her a funny look. "What? You just opened the sodding menu. You can't know."



She smiled and bobbed her head. "Yes, I can. I'm having the chocolate French toast."



William just rolled his eyes. "Of course you are. Well, I believe I'll take a moment longer."



While he was deciding, the server came around and refilled their coffees. Buffy noticed he was almost finished with his large Bloody Mary, but she'd barely started her mimosa. The server asked if he'd like another, and he said he'd like one with his meal.



"Okay," he said looking at her, "I've decided. I'm having the Monte Cristo."



Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Yuck, isn't that a ham sandwich with jelly and mustard?"



He closed his menu, put his elbow on the table, and rested his chin in the palm of his hand.



"Yeah, what of it? It's cracking," he said with an air of nonchalance.



"Cracking? What does that even mean? You have to be on crack to eat it?" Buffy couldn't help but giggle at her own joke.



He gave her a mock sneer. "Summers, you think you're so funny, but you're the only one laughing at your barmy little joke. It's British slang—means excellent, good, brilliant. What would you say?" Adopting a horrible southern California falsetto voice, he said, "Oh, my Gawd! It's soooo yummy!"



Buffy burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she was trying to catch her breath. "D–don't ever do that again, for both our sakes. That was the worst accent I've ever heard, and I think you might kill me with laughter."



She was still trying to regain composure when the host came to take them to their table. They took their drinks and followed him to a quiet booth in the back.



"So you think I'm funny do you?" William raised his eyebrows and smirked at her, a gurgle of laugher bubbled from his throat. "Oh, I'm a virtual laugh factory." Then his face turned somber. "Truth is, I can't remember ever laughing as much as I have in these last six days."



Buffy was caught completely off guard by his last statement and didn't quite know how to respond. "Well," she said, carefully, "I've had a lot of fun working with you and spending time with you, even when you forced me to listen to music I didn't always appreciate. But surely that's not true, and if it is, it breaks my heart." She hoped she wasn't out of line, but she reached across the table and put her hand on his forearm.



William looked down at her hand, and she didn't know if she should yank it back or not. He stared at it as if it were alien to him, before he put his other hand on top of hers.



He looked up at her and cleared his throat. "Buffy, I want to tell you something. Rupert told you I was having some problems. Well, I was diagnosed with bipolar two disorder when I was eighteen."



Buffy felt her eyes widen before she could stop the reaction, but she kept quiet, knowing she should hear the whole story before saying anything.



William noticed her reaction, but soldiered on. "I know what you're thinking, but it's different from bipolar disorder, which I'm sure you've heard of. What happens to me is, without proper medication, I go through cyclical bouts of depression, and I rarely have a hypomanic episode, and mine caused me to get into a lot of fights in my younger days. When it happens now, I end up with insomnia for a couple days." William saw Buffy's eye's softening and took a deep breath to continue. "I take medication to keep it all under control, but I was off my medication for a while, hence the problems. I'm taking it again and feeling much better. I just felt I should be honest with you. I know you came into this rather blindly. I don't want to be ill. My mother had bipolar disorder and refused to take her medication for most of my life, for reasons I don't quite know, but it—well, I'm sorry if I shared too much. I only thought I should be honest with you." William looked down as if he were afraid of what he might see in her eyes.



Buffy gave his arm a gentle squeeze. "William, I have no idea how you must feel, but I want you to know, I'm here to help. I'm sure you think I'm probably just a kid, but I hope you'll think of me as your friend. I don't think you shared too much. Thanks for your honesty, William. Telling me took a lot of courage, and I really admire that."



Buffy kept her voice in a low, gentle tone as she continued. "Look at me. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you as a child. Did your father, Dr. Giles, or your grandparents take on her responsibilities?"



He looked up at her, and it was as if someone had drawn a curtain.



He took a deep breath and gave her a shaky smile. "I think I've done enough sharing for today, don't you? Why don't we talk about something more pleasant? Do you want me to grab a copy of the Phoenix and see if there are any good bands playing tonight, or we could go to a movie?" He'd moved his hand from the table and clasped them both behind his neck, giving her a nice view of his biceps.



She knew he was trying to distract her, so she decided it best to drop the matter. She'd probably already said way too much. He would tell her more when he was ready.



"Whatever you want to do is fine by me. We could do either of those things, or I could make dinner, and we could watch television or maybe a movie." She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of her mimosa. "I'm good with anything."



"No, I'd rather go out. We've stayed in every night this week. At least let me take you to dinner. I mean, if you want to go. You don't have to. We'll be done with work then, so you're free to do what you will." He took a gulp of coffee and fidgeted with the creamer pitcher, almost tipping it over.



"William, I want to do something with you. You choose. Surprise me. Just give me an idea of what time, what to wear, and I'll be there. Okay?"



He was about to respond when the server came to take their orders and replenish their coffee. William decided he'd have another Bloody Mary while they waited for their food and went to the front of the restaurant to grab a copy of the local paper.



"All right, let's see what we've got here," he said, turning the pages and scanning them intently. "Oh, here's something you would like. Wooden Birds is playing at Great Scott tonight. We could grab a bite then go to the show." He looked up at her as if gauging her reaction.



"What kind of band are they? I'm not in the mood for loud, crowded, and screaming." She cast him a sideways glance, smoothing the tablecloth.



"They're Americana, I guess. Kind of roots rock, slower paced, not loud, heavier into the lyrics with a cleaner sound. Their latest album received great reviews. We could go early and get a table, so we wouldn't have to stand." He closed the paper and drummed his fingers on the table.



"Sure, sounds good. Just pick somewhere quick and easy for dinner." She gave him a bright smile.



The server brought their food, and the William went over some spots they could go for dinner. Then they discussed what herbs they were going to buy at the nursery. William complained about having to bring up all the potting soil to fill the massive planter, but she reminded him of the staff at his apartment, and he seemed appeased. William paid the check when they were done, and they were off to the nursery, talking easily about work and listening to music.



Saturday Afternoon



At the nursery, they chose basil, oregano, cilantro, mint, rosemary, and chives. William had his doubts as to whether or not the planter would hold all the herbs, but Buffy assured him it was large enough to hold them all nicely. Their next stop was the market. They strolled the aisles of the store picking things they would need for the week. Buffy had put together menus, so that made things fairly easy. She was rather shocked when she saw him hefting three six-packs of beer into the cart.



"You afraid they might stop making that or what?" she asked, trying to sound as though she was teasing.



He slammed the last one down in the cart and sneered at her. "Why don't you mind your own damn business? I don't remember one of duties being policing the amount of alcohol I buy or consume," he said, his voice low and vitriolic.



She knew her mouth was hanging open in shock, so she quickly pressed her lips together. She didn't quite know what to do. Things had been going so well. How was she going to fix this?



"Look, I—" She drew in a deep breath. "I didn't mean to upset you. I wasn't trying to start a fight. We've been having a lovely day. Why would I want to deliberately make you angry? But you have no right to talk to me the way you just did, and I think it would be best if we just paid for what we have and left. I'll get the rest of what we need tomorrow on my day off."



She took hold of the cart and started pushing it toward the checkout registers, leaving him standing there with one hand on his hip and the other massaging is left temple.



William came to the front and stepped in front of her without saying a word. He paid for the groceries, and they were on their way. The ride back to the apartment was made in tense silence. He let her off at the entrance, and she took as many bags as she could. She also informed the concierge that Mr. Elliston would need assistance.



When everything was inside, he didn't speak, and she only spoke when necessary.



Buffy said, "I'll put the refrigerated items away, and you can do the rest. After I'm done, I'm going outside to get these herbs in the planter." She walked out without waiting for a reply.



William wanted to scream and punch himself at the same time. He had no idea what had come over him in the store. He was embarrassed and ashamed, but he didn't quite know how to rectify the situation. He'd never seen her like this, and he wasn't the best when it came to conveying his emotions correctly. William decided to let her cool down. In the meantime, he'd make himself a nice large vodka tonic. He went to the cupboard and pulled down the biggest glass he could find. He filled it about three quarters of the way full and pour a dash of tonic in then added a couple of ice cubes.



William went into the living room, reached in a drawer for his cigarettes and an ashtray then went to sit on the sofa.



I'm not lighting a fucking candle either. It's my bloody house, and I'll do what I want.



He lit the cigarette and took a long drag followed by a huge gulp of vodka. He watched Buffy work, and she was a sight to behold. The sun was shining on her hair, bringing out the golden highlights, and he took in the tan expanse of her legs revealed by the little pair of shorts she wore. He could tell her hackles were up by way she stomped around. She was adorable and sexy as hell.



Jesus, he was a wanker! He'd made a complete arse of himself the entire day. He all but asked her on a date, and he was sure the only reason she'd said yes was because she felt sorry for him, sod that he was, spilling his guts. That, or she thought she might lose her job if she didn't. He hoped she didn't think he really such prick that he fire her over that.



Such a stand-up bloke. Can't imagine why she wouldn't fancy a git like me.



He stubbed the cigarette out, but kept on drinking. He felt the liquor warm his body, but it seemed to be hitting him harder than usual and faster too, yet he continued to drink. The last thing he remembered was thinking he should get up and apologize for being an arse, but his eyes wouldn't focus, and his legs didn't seem to work.



Then everything faded to black.

Buffy wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. She just finished watering the herbs after putting them in the planter, and they looked great. The water released their fragrances into the air and gave her a rush of nostalgia. Her mom always had an herb garden, and she would often send Buffy out to get some for whatever she was cooking. Buffy wished she could call her mother and talk to her now, but she knew that wouldn't be a good idea.

Buffy had no idea how she'd even begin to then explain entire situation. Her mother was so intuitive she would know Buffy's feelings by talking to her, but there was no way Buffy could talk about the market incident without it blemishing William's character. She didn't want to do that, especially since her mother had no prior experience with him. The same thing went for Fred, and she certainly didn't want to call and tattle to the Giles', so Buffy found she was alone in figuring out this situation.

After pulling off her gloves, she took a deep breath and turned to go inside to get to the bottom of things. When she opened the door, the stench of cigarette smoke hit her in the face, and she grimaced. Buffy saw William slumped on the sofa with his chin on his chest. She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes, wondering how he could be taking a nap when things were so up in the air. She closed the door a little harder than necessary, but he didn't stir.

Buffy decided it might be a good idea to put on some music before she went into the kitchen to get a drink. She selected Jawbreaker's 24 Hour Revenge Therapy. The first track, "The Boat Dreams From The Hill"came on, and she cranked it up, the driving drumbeat filling the room. Buffy smiled smugly and went into the kitchen. As she rounded the corner, she saw the almost empty bottle of Stoley's on the counter. Her stomach dropped somewhere in the vicinity of her knees, and her heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her chest.

Buffy screamed his name and ran.

He hadn't moved, and there was a large empty glass beside him. Buffy shook William with all her strength, shouting his name above the din of the music.

"William! William, wake up! Please!"

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she thought she saw him try to open his eyes. She had the presence of mind to reach for the remote on the coffee table and turn off the stereo.

"William, can you hear me? You've got to wake up. You're scaring the hell out of me."

William lifted his head and it lolled against the back of the sofa, an unattractive trail of spittle ran down the right corner of his mouth to a damp patch on his shirt. Buffy climbed on the sofa beside him and raised herself on her knees, so she could see his face. She put her hand on his shoulder as if to steady him.

"Hey, William. I need you to answer me. If you don't, I'm calling 911."

He shifted his eyes toward her without moving his head and spoke, his speech so slurred she could barely understand him. "Now, why in Christ's name would you do that?"

Buffy drew in a deep breath and spoke slowly. "Because something is definitely wrong with you, and saying I'm a little worried is like saying it's a little chilly when it's seventeen degrees outside." She clenched and unclenched her fist in her lap.

His eyes were closed, and he closed them even tighter before he spoke. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Only had one sodding drink," he said.

Buffy understood the words "sorry" and "one drink," but that was as much as she could decipher. She'd remember someone saying vodka had no odor, but whoever said that clearly had no idea what he or she was talking about. When he spoke her olfactory system was assaulted by a sickly sweet stench.

"Do you feel sick? I would say you should sleep it off, but I want to look up the medications you're taking and see what they say about mixing them with boatloads of alcohol. You need to stay awake in the meantime." Buffy looked at him, waiting for an answer.

He licked his dry lips, and wrinkled his nose. "I'm fine. You don't need to bother about me," he said, still slurring his words.

Buffy ran her eyes over him warily. "I'm gonna get you a wastebasket just in case. Stay awake!"

She went to get the wastebasket from his bathroom and to see if she could find his medication, too. The three pill bottles were neatly lined up on the counter by the sink, and Buffy grabbed what she needed and went back to the living room. William was still in the same position, slouched down with his head lolled against the back of the sofa. His eyes were closed.

Buffy set the wastebasket on the floor and climbed on the sofa next to him, hovering over him on her knees. She touched his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. "William, are you in there?"

He turned his head toward her and squinted as if trying hard to see her face. "Piss off. I'm sure your workday's ended. If not, consider it a sodding holiday. You're not my bloody nursemaid or anything else for that matter."

He turned his head forward and brought his left hand up to shield his face.

Buffy wanted to shove him off the couch or punch him. She wasn't sure which, but she knew he was drunk, and drunks weren't the best people to listen to. Not that she'd had that much experience with them. Buffy had seen people drunk at parties before, and she'd been tipsy, but never drunk. This was completely new territory for her.

She spoke to him again and tried to remain calm. "Listen to me, jackass. I can't 'piss off,' as you say, because you've pulled this ridiculously stupid stunt. I could be getting ready to go dinner right now, but now I have to leave your drunken self on the couch to call the pharmacist and see if any of your drugs are dangerous when mixed with high amounts of alcohol. So why don't you just keep your mouth closed unless nice words can come out? If you throw up do it in this," she said, thrusting the wastebasket at him. "I draw the line at cleaning up your vomit."

She stood up and stomped out of the room with his medications in hand.

Bugger, bugger, bugger! You massive wanker! What have you done?

William's head felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton filling. He had to keep swallowing the overabundance of saliva in his mouth, as his mouth watered and his stomach roiled each time. He knew he was drunk, and he'd massively fucked up, but he was fuzzy on the details. William didn't really know why he'd lashed out at Buffy either. It seemed she was genuinely concerned about him and trying to help.

Then it all came flooding back with the force of a tidal wave. Jesus! Now, he had something else to apologize for. William couldn't believe what an enormous, fucking wanker he'd been. Buffy had every right to walk out of there and never speak to him again, but God, he hoped she'd give him a chance and let him apologize.

He could hear her in the kitchen slamming a cupboard door then the sound of water running and being turned off. Soon he heard her footsteps on the hardwoods. William felt her presence as she came around to face the couch, and he raised his head and opened his eyes.

Maybe, not such a good idea mate. Steady on. Don't want to honk in front of her.

Buffy came around and sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. Her lips were set in a thin line and her eyelids were puffy, he guessed from crying. She'd set a glass of water and some capsules down beside her. William noticed her gripping the edge of the table so tightly that her knuckles were white. His speech was less slurred and he felt a bit more coherent, but things were still a bit wonky.

"Look, it's obvious I owe you an unspeakably huge apology, for my behavior earlier as well as just a few minutes ago. I can't begin to tell you how em—"

Buffy cut him off, her eyes sparkling with anger and unshed tears.

"No, you don't get to talk now. You get to listen." She poked him in the chest for emphasis. "I just got off the phone with the pharmacist. You could have killed yourself tonight, you idiot! Why? Why would you do such a stupid thing? You have to go throw up, now! Go!" She pulled on his arm frantically.

"Give me second to get my bearings, and I think it can be easily arranged."

He leaned forward, head spinning, mouth watering like a dog staring at a T-bone. His stomach did a flip, but he managed to keep things down. He knew he could make it to his bathroom. He finally stood on wobbly legs and headed toward his room. Buffy followed close behind. He made it there just in time and closed the door.

She called to him from the doorway. "I'll be just outside. Call if you need anything. If you don't say something or come out in five minutes, I'm coming in. God knows I don't want to!"

William came out ten minutes later. He hadn't said anything, but he figured the sound of retching, the flush of the toilet, and the sound of water running in the sink let her know he was alive and conscious. He put his toothbrush in its holder and wiped his face, feeling more sober now and more than a little gobsmacked. How does one go about apologizing for almost killing themselves on someone else's watch? God, how could he have put her through that? He was such a selfish git.

He walked to the door, and she was standing there waiting for him. They walked back to the living room in silence, and he took a seat on the couch.

"I'm sorry. I know that doesn't excuse my behavior, but I didn't mean to do what I did. I should never have talked to you the way I did at the market, and instead of apologizing to you, I decided to have a really large drink."

Running a hand through his hair he said, "I honestly had no idea it would interact with my medications. I wasn't even thinking about that. I'm a gormless git. I wouldn't blame you if you were done with me. I'll be happy to give a glowing letter of recommendation."

William put his hands on his knees and looked at her to gauge her reaction.

Please, don't leave. Please, don't leave.

Buffy had resumed her seat on the coffee table and sat there taking him in. She was silent for so long, William was about to say something else then she spoke. Her tone was even and sure.

"I have no idea what a gormless git is, but I'm guessing you're a ginormous one." He laughed in spite of himself. "I honestly don't know if I can work for you if the is your standard way of dealing with things. You had no business talking to me the way you did or behaving the way you have today."

Buffy reached out and put her hand on top of his. He felt a jolt of pleasure at this very unexpected gesture, and she continued to talk.

"You shared some very personal things with me this morning. Then we made plans to do something later. You acted nervous, like it was a date. But you got scared and decided to sabotage the whole thing. Am I right?" Buffy pinned him with her gaze, forcing him to answer.

William was amazed how much she'd gotten right, how intuitive she actually was. He cleared his throat. "I'm amazed at your accuracy about some things, but you're wrong about others. Buffy, I won't lie. I'm very attracted to you, and I wanted it to be a date."

William put his other hand on top of hers, now sandwiching hers. "However, the more I thought about it, the more I thought you might not want that and might be going just, because I'm your employer and you felt you had to, so I tried to get out of it, not the best way for sure. I fucked up, and I guess that's done."

William hung his head and moved to take his hands away, and she let him.

Buffy tipped his chin with her right hand. "William, seriously, you can't drink so much while taking this medication, and you need your medication. You need to cut down on your drinking, period. I'm not trying to be bossy–Oh, whom am I kidding? Yes I am." She couldn't help laughing and neither could he. Then the smile left her face, and he knew he wasn't off the hook. "It doesn't matter whether I'm here to work for you or not, and whether or not I want to date you is irrelevant. You have to do this for yourself."

William reached up, took her hand, and squeezed it, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with his other. "I understand. Listen, I'm knackered, so I'm going to get some kip. Will I see you tomorrow at breakfast?"

Buffy removed her hand from his and looked away. "I don't know. I've got a lot of thinking to do, and tomorrow's my day off. Remember?"

William bent his head and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "Right. Of course. Well have a good night and I guess day, tomorrow." He pushed up from the edge of the couch and walked toward his bedroom.

"William, wait," she said, and hope bloomed in his heart as he turned around. She stood with the capsules and glass of water from the coffee table. "The pharmacist said you could take these for your head. I thought you might want them."

He hoped he hid his look of disappointment well. "Thanks, I guess they might be helpful."

William closed the door and leaned against it as tears slid down his cheeks. He couldn't get the image of his father passed over the kitchen table amidst a plethora of term papers, an empty tumbler in his hand and an empty bottle of scotch on the table. William remembered vehemently denying he'd be nothing like them, but bloody hell if he wasn't sprinting down the path they'd set before him.

Sunday Morning

William walked into the house, leaving his bag in the entryway and called for his mum. He had the results of his A-levels and hoped she'd be proud. The house was quiet, so William went into the kitchen. Empty prescription bottles were lying overturned on the table and beside them was a note. His heart dropped into his stomach, and William felt as though ice water flowed through his veins.

He turned and frantically began shouting for his mum, tearing through the house and coming to an abrupt halt when he reached the living room. There, on the sofa, lay her lifeless body. Shock and uncertainty gripped him like tentacles, holding William to the spot.

William knew he needed to move. To check on her. To call someone. Something. Anything. Instead, he fell to his knees and vomited. Afterward, somehow, he made it to the kitchen and dialed the medics. The dispatcher's voice was calm and assertive, and she kept him on the line until the medics could arrive. The woman was asking him questions and giving him directions.

And William just stared his Mum helplessly. He noticed her shoes were off, as if she'd just lain down for a nap, but her jaws were slack, and her mouth was open in an unnatural way. He'd never seen a dead person before, but somehow he knew his mum was no longer there. There was a sense of emptiness about her body. William tentatively knelt beside her, taking her hand in his, and it was cool in contrast to his. Then he knew. "She's gone," he said, into the phone.

The medics were there, brushing him out of the way. They moved her and briefly tried to revive her.

"I'm sorry, mate, but there's nothing we can do," one of them said. "Is there is anyone you can call to be with you?"

William crossed his arms over his chest as though he was embracing himself and nodded mutely. He went into the kitchen to call his father. William dialed the number to the department and asked that his father be sent home immediately then he sat at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. There was no way he was going back to the living room, because he couldn't bear the thought of his mum in a—He couldn't go there.

One of the medics came in the kitchen to let him know they were leaving. He gave some standard condolence that William barely heard then had William sign some papers while explaining something about an autopsy, but William didn't pay attention. He just signed the papers and took the copy that was thrust into his hand.

He continued to sit and stare into space until Rupert and his father arrived.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" his father shouted, continuing on about how dare William call him away from his classes.

William broke down, sobbing, but was but was able say, "Mum took some pills, and now she's gone."

William wanted his father to put his arms around him and tell him it was going to be all right, but his father slapped him and screamed, "This all your sodding fault, you worthless twit. I wish you'd never been born!"

Rupert grabbed William's father, but said nothing in William's defense. William had never felt more alone than in that moment.

"No, Dad. Please don't say that. I didn't know."

William slowly came to consciousness from the sound of his own voice. His cheeks were wet with tears, and the numbers on the clock let him know it was only five thirty am. William certainly didn't want to go back to sleep. Living through all that had happened had been difficult enough the first time around.

William thought he'd put his issues with his parents to rest, but obviously he'd not resolved them. He could see aspects of them in himself, and that frightened him. Maybe, he would make an appointment with a therapist, but first he knew he needed to speak with Buffy before the day got going and he lost his chance.

After setting up the coffee maker, William ran out and pick up some breakfast. He hoped she wouldn't leave before he came back so he could explain things and apologize properly. He didn't want her to leave. He'd never felt a connection like this to anyone before, and he didn't want to lose it before it had a chance to take shape. To have any remote chance with her, he was going to have to get his act together and find the right words to make Buffy stay.

The bakery was just opening when he arrived, so everything was warm and fresh. William chose some croissants, both regular and chocolate, some strawberry pastries, and a piping hot cup of coffee to go. When William arrived home Buffy's bag was still hanging in the entryway, so he knew she hadn't left. He put the goodies in the kitchen, brought his coffee into the living room, and turned on the telly with the volume down low, waiting for her to wake up.

He watched some ridiculous infomercial about a food processor/blender and had just started an episode of Oddities, when he heard movement coming from Buffy's room. William turned off the telly and went into the kitchen to start the coffee. When he came back, Buffy was sitting on the sofa.

"Um, good morning. I didn't expect you to be up so early," Buffy said, sounding as though she'd hoped to escape without notice. "You're never up before nine, and it's barely eight. Are you making coffee?" she asked, still not sounding quite sure she believed this was happening, as she sat on the edge of the sofa running her hands over the tops of her thighs.

Buffy's hair was hanging in a curtain around her face, so he couldn't see her expression, but her body language gave away plenty.

"Yeah, I woke up really early this morning and couldn't go back to sleep," he said, his voice sounding unsteady, even to himself, as he shifted from one foot to the other. "I went out and got some breakfast for us. I was hoping you'd stay for a bit, and let me apologize again, maybe explain a few things."

William cleared his throat and hastily sat down on the end of the sofa to await her reply. Buffy was silent for a long while, continually fidgeting, either rubbing her thighs or wringing her hands. Finally, she pulled her hair back from her face, pinned him with a look, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"William, you apologized last night, and I told you I was going to take some time today. Thanks for getting breakfast and making coffee. That was really sweet of you, but I don't know what there is to talk about right now," Buffy said, her voice shaky, but he could tell she was trying to be firm.

William moved closer to her a little hesitantly, putting his hand over both of hers, and he noticed they were shaking slightly.

"Listen, I'm not trying to hold you hostage. I know what I did last night was completely inexcusable, and you have every right to pack your things, go and never give me another thought. But please, just come have some breakfast with me before you go. I even bought chocolate croissants." He gave her a small smile that he really didn't feel, looking for any sign of change in her.

Buffy gave a small laugh. "You really don't play fair." She looked down and extracted her hands from his. "I'll hear what you have to say, but I can't make any promises right now, okay? Do you promise to accept that?"

William reached out and tipped her chin. "Yes, I promise to accept your decision, no matter what. Now, let's go get you some delicious chocolate." He stood, and she followed him into the kitchen.

Buffy got a couple of plates from the cupboard, and William pulled out two mugs, pouring the coffee. He grabbed the sugar off the counter and a spoon from the drawer. "Would you grab the cream from the fridge, please?"

She bumped the fridge door closed it with her bottom. "Already done."

They sat down, and William watched her tuck in. "That good?" he asked, as she stuffed a piece of chocolate pastry in her mouth, leaving a stray bit of chocolate at the corner of her lips.

Buffy closed her eyes as if she was savoring the taste. "Mmph s'good," she said, grabbing her mug to take a sip of coffee. "Thanks for getting them."

William watched her closely for any other reactions. "I'm glad I made the right choice in something. Listen, I've been up for a while, and I've been doing some thinking—"

Buffy held up her hand to stop him.

"William, can we just have an uncomplicated breakfast? I don't really feel like talking about yesterday right now. I need to get away and think some things through. Will you let me do that?" She gave him an imploring look, grasping the table with the tips of her fingers.

William felt a little defeated, but he couldn't stop staring at the stray bit of chocolate. He reached across the table and cupped Buffy's cheek, wiping the bit of chocolate off the corner of her mouth with his thumb then brought it back to his mouth and sucked the chocolate off. Buffy stared at him and gulped, her cheeks tinted a beautiful shade of pink.

"Sorry. You just had a bit of chocolate there," William said, looking down for a second, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"It's all right. Thanks for getting it for me, but you could have told me. I have a napkin. I don't mean to sound harsh, but your doing things like that doesn't make this any easier." Buffy stumbled over her words, sounding frustrated.

William could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He felt like a total arse for embarrassing her, but he needed to get some things out in the open. "I'm sorry, I didn't think. I just acted, and I shouldn't have. I am confused about something, though. In the living room, you said you'd listen to me, and now you're saying you won't. I don't understand. I don't want to rehash everything. I just want to tell you something," he said, keeping his voice calm and not accusatory. He hoped he didn't sound as frustrated as he felt.

Buffy leaned forward and sighed dramatically. "Okay, I'm sorry for being all mixed-signal-girl. This is not exactly a big heap of fun for me either, and I didn't do anything. You may not be trying to, but you're making me feel guilty for wanting time to think about this whole situation."

She leaned back and kept her eyes on his, as if she were waiting for a reply or an apology.

William put down the cup, rubbed his face with both hands, then linked his fingers together underneath his chin. "Buffy, I'm sorry. Making you feel guilty is the last thing I want to do. Please, know that."

He took a deep breath and said, "I just want you to know I've decided to see a therapist. I think I have lot of unresolved issues with my parents, and they're standing in the way of my being the best man I can be."

Buffy smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm really proud of you for recognizing your needs and your problems, but that doesn't change my decision right now. I still have to think about what's best for me." She stood and said, "I'll be back later this afternoon or this evening, and we'll talk then. I'll give you an answer one way or another. Okay?"

William stood as well. "Thanks. I understand what you have to do, and I know it's selfish of me, but I hope you come back this evening to tell me you'll give me another chance." He held out his arm to let her pass, and he followed her into the living room. "I think I'll even get out of here and get some things done today as well. It's not good for me to sit here and stew."

Buffy stood in front of him shifting from side to side. "Well, that sounds like a good idea. I guess I'll see you later. Bye, William." She turned and walked toward the door.

He reached up and scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, have a good day. Call—"

The door closed behind her, leaving him in silence before he could to ask her to call if she wanted to get something for dinner.

Probably bloody well be gone by then, you stupid prat! Bollocks!

Buffy pressed the elevator button with a shaking finger. One more second in there and her resolve would have flown out the window. She phoned Olivia last night and asked if she would meet her today. The older woman didn't seem too surprised to hear from her, and Buffy was curious to know why. The elevator doors opened, and she got in, pressing the key for the lobby. When she arrived, Buffy went to the concierge and asked him to call a taxi for her. As she waited in the lobby, Buffy texted Olivia to let her know she was on her way, since she was earlier than planned.

Buffy had loved working with William over the last week. They worked well together and got along well outside of work. Buffy couldn't deny the ever-growing attraction she had to him, and last night he confessed his attraction to her. Attraction in the workplace was not really a good thing, but it was something she thought she could handle. However, there were some things about William that concerned her.

He always seemed to have a drink in his hand. After his outburst yesterday, plus the drunkenness that followed, Buffy thought it was more than she could undertake, especially with him taking medication. She'd never been more scared or felt more helpless in her life. Part of her was angry with him, and another part of her felt sorry for him. Buffy wanted to take him in her arms and make his pain go away, but she knew William had to fight his own demons.

The taxi arrived, and Buffy gave the driver directions to the coffeehouse. On the way there, Buffy thought of how she'd broach the subject with Olivia. Should she dance around it, or be straight and to the point? Buffy decided straight and to the point was the best route. She arrived, paid the fare, and went inside. Olivia wasn't there, so Buffy ordered a coffee, found two overstuffed chairs and a small table in the back, sipped her coffee, and waited.

Olivia bustled in a short while later, as Buffy caught her eye and motioned for her. She greeted Buffy with a warm embrace and a smile.

"Buffy, dear, it's so good to see you. How are you? How's William?" Olivia took her seat and propped her elbow on the arm of the chair.

Buffy smiled back at her. It was hard not to. Something about her just set Buffy at ease.

"It's lovely to see you too. How we are is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about today. We've had a great week together, but yesterday William got angry about something then got very drunk." Buffy looked her in the eye as she spoke, trying to gauge signs of shock or denial, but nothing like that came. Olivia just nodded. "He's not supposed to drink large amounts of alcohol with his medication, so he passed out after one really large drink. I've—"

Olivia reached over and put her hand on Buffy's arm. "Why didn't you call Rupert or me for help? We would have been glad to come over."

Buffy was flabbergasted. "I—I didn't want to call anyone for help! I want you to tell me why you're sitting here acting calmly like I told you he forgot to put butter in the mashed potatoes!" she said, trying to keep her voice as low as possible. A couple of other patrons had turned around to stare.

Olivia looked appropriately abashed. "Let me get a cup of coffee, and I'll tell you what I can. You want anything while I'm up?"

Buffy reached into her purse and handed her a five-dollar bill.

"Another cup of coffee and a cinnamon scone, please."

Olivia pushed Buffy's hand away. "Your money's no good, sweetie. I've got this one. It's the least I can do."

Buffy put her money back in her wallet and wondered what the hell that meant. What had Dr. Giles gotten her into? He always seemed so benign and sweet. Jeez! She felt like an idiot. Olivia came back shortly with their drinks and scones.

Olivia took a bite of her scone and a sip of coffee, after swallowing she said, "All right, I've known William since he was ten. He was a good boy, and he's a good man. However, William has not had a very easy life."

Olivia paused, looking unsure. Buffy could tell by the depth of emotion in Olivia's voice this was not easy for her to discuss. "I don't want to say too much and betray William's trust," Olivia said.

Buffy held her hand up.

"Olivia, William told me his mother was bipolar, and she didn't take her medication. He said he has bipolar two disorder, but he'd only recently started taking his medication again. This morning, he also told me he has unresolved issues with his parents." She didn't feel the need to mention any more.

Olivia's eyes went wide with what Buffy had to guess was astonishment.

"Buffy, I'm amazed William's opened up to you like that. My boy's not known for sharing his feelings or thoughts. I could tell by the way he looked at you. He fancies you. You've gone and bewitched him with those lovely green eyes." Olivia smiled a warm motherly smile that reminded Buffy of her own mother.

Buffy felt her cheeks warm, and she couldn't help but smile faintly until she remembered why she was there.

"Well—uh, that's great. But it's not what I came here to talk about. What happened last night was…well…beyond scary, and I don't know if I can work for him if it's going to be like that. I feel like Dr. Giles wasn't completely honest with me, especially judging by your reaction." Buffy took a bite of her scone and waited.

Olivia put her hand on her chest and closed her eyes as if she was searching for exactly the right words. She opened her eyes and spoke after a moment.

"Dear, I can't tell you what you should or shouldn't do in regard to working for William, but I can tell you you've already done something remarkable with him that no one else ever has. You've gotten him to open up to you in a short amount of time, and you have him taking his medication. Those are two enormous things."

She reached over and squeezed Buffy's forearm. "William doesn't trust easily, because he's never had a lot of people to trust. The people he should have been able to trust the most failed him miserably."

Buffy leaned toward Olivia. "What do you mean they failed him?" Buffy couldn't imagine what Olivia was going to say.

Olivia shook her head as if clearing her thoughts and looked solemnly at Buffy.

"His parents, Margaret and Graham, were toxic together, but they couldn't stay apart. Margaret was completely off her medication by the time I met her, and she was really something. I don't mean that in a complimentary way either. Margaret seemed like a normal mother and professor's wife to the outside world, but sometimes you would get glimpses inside, and they were frightening."

Buffy was trying to take this all in. She pulled her knees under her and listened.

"Margaret would fawn over William one minute and curse him in the next breath. Graham never had time for him and drank too much. I think the strain of Margaret's illness had a lot to do with it, but when he drank, he was cruel to William, degrading him, making him feel less than he was. He was a very bright and sweet child, but I've heard both of them tell him how stupid or bad he was. William constantly tried to please them. The poor thing lived his life on eggshells. " Olivia sighed heavily and went on with her story.

"I wanted to get him out of there, but Margaret and Graham would never allow that. The outside world would see through the façade. I'm sure you noticed the tension between Rupert and William. Well, William blames Rupert for standing by and watching, doing nothing." Olivia bowed her head, her voice breaking at the last few sentences.

Buffy put her coffee cup down and took Olivia's hand.

"Olivia, I'm sure you did the best you could. Don't beat yourself up. I'm so sorry for William. I had no idea, and I can't imagine what he must have gone through or be going through. He says he wants to be a better man, and I think I have to give him that chance. I don't want to give up on him if he's put his trust in me." Buffy was trying hard not to cry. Tears were forming in her eyes, and she fought desperately to blink them back.

Olivia looked up at her, tears staining her cheeks.

"Thank you, Buffy. You're a good woman, and I think William just needs someone to believe in him. However, you have to think of yourself. Don't get so caught up in his problems that you lose sight of your focus." Olivia smiled warmly.

Buffy stood and gave her a hug. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go. I need to talk to William."

Olivia chuckled and shook her head. "No, dear, I don't mind at all. Give him my love. Call me anytime."

"Thanks, I will." Buffy turned as she started to walk toward the door.

Out on the street Buffy hailed a cab, got inside, pulled out her phone, and dialed William's number.

"Hi, it's me," she said, when he answered. "Can you meet me at the apartment? I'm ready to talk."

Buffy wasn't looking for a romantic relationship. She was terrified of having her heart broken, but she was willing to be his friend. Buffy just hoped her brain would give her body the message.

William sat slouched on the sofa, his right leg bouncing of its own volition, while he tapped out a rhythm with his fingers on his left thigh. It probably had something to do with the enormous amount of coffee he consumed this morning, not to mention the ridiculous heaps of sugar he loaded into each cup. Buffy teased him mercilessly, but he couldn't have a cup without at least five sugars, and now he was so hyped up he felt as though he'd taken a dose of speed.



When Buffy left, he told her was going out as well, but it was too early to go anywhere but a coffeehouse, so he just sat there, drank coffee, and waited. At ten fifteen he decided to go to a bookstore. He got his wallet, keys, and was about to pick up his phone when it began to ring. Lou Reed's Vicious began playing, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. It was Buffy's ringtone, and he didn't know if her calling so early was such a good thing. He hesitated a moment before answering.



"Hello, Buffy?" He answered, his voice sounding a tad wary and uncertain to him. He held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to hear her voice.



"Hi, it's me," she said, her tone almost cheerful. "Can you meet me at the apartment? I'm ready to talk."



The tone of her voice made him nervous. "Sure, I haven't left yet. In fact, you caught me as I was walking out the door," William said, thrumming his fingers on the entryway table.



"Good, I'm glad I caught you. I'll be there soon."



William just stood there, not quite knowing what to do. Buffy hadn't given him time to ask her any questions, and she hadn't exactly been forthcoming with answers. God, he wanted a drink!



William settled for pacing the patio and chain smoking. The day was overcast, and it looked as though the heavens might open up and pour down buckets of rain at any moment. The wind had gone from a light breeze to stormy gusts, and he had a hell of time lighting his last few fags. When William felt the first smattering of drops on his forehead, he stubbed out his ciggie and ran inside.



Without the wind, William smelled like an enormous fag end, so he decided to freshen up. He grabbed a vintage black Bowie t-shirt from his bureau then went into the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth, and rub on some Aqua Di Parma aftershave balm.



He tried hard not to think about Buffy and what she might or might not have to say. He wanted to be open with her this morning, but she was having none of it.



Jesus, the bint was a right pain in the arse at times! However, that was one of the things he loved about her—



Wait a tick. That's just ridic—



He heard her call his name. William didn't have time to think anymore. It was time for answers, and he hoped they would be ones he liked.



"William, you still here? I hope you didn't go out in this downpour," Buffy said, her voice ringing out down the hall.



William smiled and shook his head at the thought of her talking to herself. He started walking toward her.



"Yeah, pet, I'm here. Was just in my room. I was outside on the patio when it started, and I got a bit damp, so I just went in to change my shirt." William looked down at floor, suddenly incredibly nervous.



"May I ask you a question?" Buffy sounded serious.



William looked up and met her gaze. Her lips were pursed, and she appeared to be examining him.



"Of course, ask away," he said, running a shaky hand through his hair.



"Exactly how many rock and roll t-shirts do you own? I mean, I don't think I've ever seen you wear anything else. Is that all you have?" Buffy's hands were on her hips and one eyebrow was raised in question.



William blinked and smiled, his nerves calmed for the moment. "A few—I like them. They're my thing. I've had some of them since I was a teenager, and yes I bloody well do have other clothes. You've only been here a week, and we've not exactly been anywhere to merit my dressing up."



He looked at Buffy, and she had that cowed look, where she knew she'd stuck her foot in her mouth. Her eyes darted back and forth from one thing to another, and she shifted her weight to one side, tapping her toe on the other.



William crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. "Do you want to inspect my closet, just for good measure?" He raised hand to his lips and covered them with his thumb and forefinger to hid his smile.



"I was just trying to be funny. I came back here to talk to you, but now I don't know if I want to."



Her glossy bottom lip stuck out, and William had to use immense restraint. He'd never wanted to know how something felt and tasted more in his life. William knew they needed to sit down, before Buffy noticed the growing bulge in his jeans.



He reached out and ran his fingers gently down her arm. "I'm sorry, pet. I was having you on. I've been dying to hear what you have to say. It's all I've been thinking about since you rang. Let's go have a seat, yeah?"



Buffy's eyes twinkled as she took his hand "Ha, ha. I got you. I wasn't upset. I was covering, because I realized I inserted my foot into my mouth once again."



William let out a relieved sigh. "Jesus, you scared me."



"Sorry," Buffy said in a tiny voice.



They walked into the living room and sat facing one another on the sofa. Buffy fixed her eyes on his and began to speak a little hesitantly.



"Okay, you may be mad at me after I tell you where I've been, but I felt I had go, because I don't—" Buffy paused and bit her lip, as though collecting her thoughts. "I think I was brought into this situation blindly, and I needed answers. Answers, that needed to come from the people who brought me here."



William took a deep breath, his thoughts murderous. He couldn't imagine what drivel Rupes had spun her. She was as good as out the door now.



"Olivia met me for coffee this morning. She sends her love." Buffy smiled and William felt a surge of relief. At least his Aunt Liv was sympathetic. "I told her what happened, and she really didn't act surprised. I got really upset, and I told her I thought I'd been mislead by Dr. Giles." Buffy wrung her hands together as though telling him this was painful.



William took her hands, trying to offer her some comfort. "Rupes can be a right bastard, but it's not all his fault. I planned to get my act together for you. Not for you personally, because I didn't know you, but because I needed an assistant, and they would be living here fulltime. Then after I met you and got to know you, I wanted to do it for you. You know, to be a better person, a better man. I'm sorry if you feel betrayed." He hung his head. He was terrified he was going to be a total nancy and cry in front of her.



Buffy squeezed his hands. "William, look at me. I told Olivia the things you told me and she told me some things about your life, how it's been hard for you to trust, because you've been treated poorly in the past. She didn't tell me too much, because she didn't want to betray you."



William kept his eyes on hers, and he saw the wealth of emotion there.



Buffy went on in a shaky voice. "I don't want to either. I know betrayals have affected you, and I don't want you to have mine to add to your list. You're strong, or you wouldn't have made it this far. You wouldn't be the success you are. I believe you can get a handle on your drinking, William. I have faith in you, and I'm willing to stay on and give you support." Buffy gave him a smile and raised her eyebrows as if waiting for his reply.



William couldn't believe he'd heard her say those words. Ecstatic couldn't begin to describe how he felt.



"Oh, kitten, I'm so glad. I promise you won't regret it," he said, reaching out and pulling her into his lap.



William's lips descended on hers, tasting the sweetness of her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth for a nibble. Buffy moaned, opening her mouth to accept his kiss. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, meeting his, and he was in heaven. He began to nip and tease her lips, moving his way down her jaw and murmuring endearments. He ran his fingers through her hair, his other hand sliding up from her waist to cup her breast. She leaned into him and he ran the pad of his thumb over the hardened peak of her covered nipple.



"Mmm, God." Buffy's fingers tunneled through short hair on the back of William's head.



William smiled into the crook of her neck. "You like that, yeah? Jesus, Buffy, you taste so good," he said, biting her neck then laving it with his tongue.



Buffy's felt like all her nerve endings were on fire. Her mind flooded with naughty images, and she wanted each and every one of them fulfilled. She gathered all her will power and disentangled herself from his hold, standing up on trembling legs, though the ache between her thighs told her to straddle him.



"Oh, my God. That was—uh, I mean we—I can't do this." She felt her cheeks flush and she ran a shaky hand through her hair.



William looked at her like she had two heads. "I don't understand. You just said—"



Buffy sat down and put her hand on his thigh, but noticed the bulge above her hand, which reminded her she'd been enjoying the feel of said bulge just moments ago. She took one of his hands in hers instead. "I meant I would be here for you in a professional capacity and as a friend. I…I didn't mean to keep kissing you like that. I'm sorry." Buffy looked at him imploringly, trying to make him understand.



A smile slowly formed on William's face, causing his eyes to crinkle in the corners, which caused her stomach to do a little flip-flop, a good reminder that she had to be firm and remain in control.



"Well, I for one think it's a bloody revelation," William said. "I'm attracted to you. You're attracted to me. We're consenting adults. It's perfect."



Buffy sighed in frustration before speaking, hoping he wouldn't misunderstand. "William, it's not that simple. Yes, as you clearly just witnessed, I'm very attracted to you, but you have a lot of issues, issues you need to work out, before I can give you anything."



She paused, not meeting his eyes, toying with the hem of her blouse. "I've never—Well, I've never had a serious relationship, and I don't do flings. I've always concentrated on my studies. I do feel something for you I've never felt before, but I don't want to get my heart broken. I realize you wouldn't do it intentionally, but you might do it all the same, and that's something I'm afraid to risk at the moment."



Buffy looked up and saw the hurt flash in his eyes, though it was gone in an instant. She wanted so badly to comfort him.



William leaned back against the couch and put his hands on his temples. "I see. You're willing to be my friend and live with and work with me everyday, knowing how we both feel about one another. You want me to ignore what just happened—one of the most amazing experiences of my life—just tamp it down."



When Buffy couldn't find the words to respond, he leaned forward and turned to her. "You've been honest with me, so I will be honest with you. I've never had a serious relationship either. Yes, I'm thirty-years-old, and I've never had a relationship last longer than a few weeks. I've led a mostly solitary existence, but I've felt more alive in the last week than I've ever felt in my life, and that's because of you. You make me feel things I thought I was incapable of—"



Buffy lifted her hand to cut him off. "William, you don't understand. I—"



"Yes, I do," William said, interrupting before she could finish. "You're frightened, and I completely understand being frightened. I've spent my entire life being afraid of one thing or another. I'm telling you I will be a better man, not only for myself, but for you as well, because you don't deserve anything less."



Buffy held his gaze as she listened to his words. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.



"I'm not asking you to declare your undying love for me or jump into my bed tonight," William said. "Just open yourself and your heart to the possibility of there being an us, and I will do everything in my power to make you not regret your decision."



William took a deep breath and waited. He took her hands in his, rubbing soothing circles on the tops with his thumbs.



Buffy's thoughts had never been more jumbled. She came back here with a plan that was now blown to bits. She wanted so much to trust him, and she remembered Olivia's words about what a good man William was and how he just needed someone to believe in him. She had vowed to protect herself, but maybe she could do both.



Buffy put her other hand on top of his and met his gaze, slightly smiling. "You're infuriating. You know that, right? I came here with a plan in place then you distract me with your words and—and—the other stuff."



Buffy felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment, and William grinned at her. "You have to do some things for me though. We have to take this slow, and don't assume since I live here, I'm just going to fall into bed with you. You also have to make an appointment first thing in the morning to see a therapist and promise me no more than two drinks a day. If you can't handle those then you don't need to drink at all. Do you understand?"



William's face turned serious, and he reached up to caress her cheek. "I understand, and I'll do everything, but I think I need to lay off the drinking completely. I need to get rid of all the alcohol in the apartment. Will you help me with both?"



Buffy leaned her cheek into his hand, trying to convey the depth of her feelings. "Yes, I will." She took his hand from her cheek and placed it in her lap, giving him a beatific smile. "Now, it's raining cats and dogs outside. I'm getting hungry, and it's my day off. What are you planning on doing about it?"



William rolled his eyes and huffed in mock frustration. "Jesus, I should have known better than to confess anything to you. Now, it's going to be nothing but demands, demands, demands,"



She playfully punched him in the arm.



William chuckled. "Oi! Violence will get you nothing. However, I suppose if you're nice to me I could order some Indian and we could veg on the sofa with movies, but no chick flicks. Oh, right I don't have any of those, because I'm a bloke."



Buffy laid her head on her shoulder and sighed. "That sounds like a wonderful plan. I'll just go change into something more comfortable. Oh, by the way don't think I haven't seen that copy of Bridget Jones's Diary hidden behind The Godfather."



She just smiled and walked toward her bedroom.



William made a strangled noise and called out, "Jesus! It's English, and it's a comedy, not a chick flick, silly bint!"



Buffy was certain her giggle could be heard all the way into the living room. "Tell yourself whatever have to boost to your manly pride."