Author's Note: This started off as a short series and quickly grew into a monster. There are 22 chapters so far, with more to come, and I'll make daily updates to catch things up. As always, reviews are appreciated, taken home and made sweet, sweet love to -- please give generously.


**

The Geek



He was sure when you reached the decrepit age of thirty you were almost required to look back on those magical four years of high school with misty eyes and a lump in your throat. You were supposed to yearn for the days when your biggest worry was getting a date to the prom.

High school life was supposed to be one giant, living John Hughes film filled with parties and football games, and various experimentation’s of the illegal and sexual kind –

These were the best four years of your life.

William Hall shut his eyes tightly and held his breath bracing himself for the impact. His tormentors’ cruel laughter nearly drowned out his strangled cry of pain as his denim-encased privates met ‘head’ on with the flagpole.

If these were the best years of his life, he figured he might as well put a hole in his fucking head now and save himself the trouble and misery later.

He writhed around in pain, tears threatening to well up in his eyes. Not from the fact that it hurt so badly: he’d had four years of ‘run-ins’ with the flagpole and had accepted that he might not be able to have children later on in life because of it. It wasn’t even the fact the whole Sunnydale High student body was currently laughing at him, again that was something he’d gotten used to long ago –

It was the fact that there were exactly three weeks left until graduation and not one of his classmates had found it in their hearts to grow up and move beyond the daily routine of ‘Kick the William’.

One eye cracked open and managed to focus from behind the crooked lens of his eyeglasses,

Oh god.

Cecily was there…

And she’d seen everything.

He was so fucked.

"Oh my god, are you okay, William?!"

Both eyes now open, head titled to get a good look at his angel, his savior from humiliation. William took in a huge breath, bottling up the pain, and exhaled loudly allowing a tiny smile to briefly grace his lips.

"Just peachy, Willow," he said, voice strained. "Could use a bit of help, though."

His redheaded angel quickly bent down to help him to his feet, groaning as she picked the surprisingly heavy boy up.

"You really gotta learn how to watch out for that flagpole, Willie. Honestly, on behalf of all men everywhere, I worry your nuts are gonna be black and blue if you don’t start avoiding that thing."

A chorus of laughter erupted at the booming, mocking sound of Riley Finn’s voice. The same voice that had led the charge from whence his penis would never recover for the last four years. The same voice that came out of a dopey, oafish bastard with perfect, floppy sandy-brown hair and a corn-fed smile.

"And you really gotta learn how to grow up, Riley!" That was Willow. Good ole Willow…

"Well, now that the ‘bodyguard’ in the Powerpuff Girls T-shirt has spoken, I guess I’ve learned the error of my ways," the jock snickered.

She really needed to stop doing all of his insulting for him.

William’s ears picked up as he heard the decidedly high-pitched giggles pass him by and his gaze automatically cast downwards to focus on his old, ratty, gray trainers. He just couldn’t stand to watch Cecily, his Cecily wrap her arms around that idiot…

"Come on, you’ve had your fun. The first bell is about to ring."

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Willow asked worriedly.

William nodded his head, a tight smile on his face as they carefully made their way inside of the building.

"Never been better."

**

The Princess



"Oh my god did you see that?!"

Buffy Summers yawned widely and brought a very lady-like, well-manicured hand up to cover her mouth. She didn’t even bother to remove her Ray-Bans; she knew the scene currently unfolding by heart…

Hell, it happened every morning right before the first bell.

"Ohh!"

As if she were some sort of mindless robot, Buffy joined in laughing with the rest of her friends. But inwardly, she cringed for William Hall. The poor guy she had known in the before time, the long, long ago – also known as ‘Pre-High School’. When things like cliques and trendy tables in the cafeteria didn’t exist and life was only about getting up early enough on Saturday mornings to watch ‘Saved by the Bell’ and playing ‘Miami Vice’ in the basement after school.

"You’d think that loser would get a clue and start coming to school a little later." That cultured, British snicker belonged to the one and only Cecily Holmes.

Buffy suppressed an eye roll. Why the hell, are we friends again?

"Spike was always a slow learner," she said casually.

Her eyes widened suddenly,

She just called William…

Spike?!

Maybe it was the brief nostalgia trip her sympathy for the geek had sent her flying on, that caused the nickname of old to come out of her mouth. She hadn’t called him that in so long, mostly because that name meant ‘Best Friends Forever’ –

Something they definitely weren’t going to be –

Ever, ever again.

Cordelia Chase raised a perfectly arched brow. "Spike?"

"William, I mean," Buffy chuckled. "Please forgive my total lapse in sanity."

"We already have," Anya Jenkins grinned. "Remember, we completely excused the fact you used to be best friends with him and kindly let you hang out with us."

Buffy snorted. "That was like the fifth grade, okay. You wanna tell us who your friends were in the fifth grade?"

"Alright, I’m bored," Cecily sighed, "lets go put a stop to this."

The pack of girls made their way over to the infamous spot, giggling, ultra expensive Jimmy Choo heels clicking across the pavement.

"Come on, you’ve had your fun. The first bell is about to ring." Cecily shook her head wrapping an arm around her boyfriend.

Lifting one well-manicured hand to adjust her sunglasses, Buffy looked everywhere but at the hunched shoulders of her former friend.

"Maybe she completely missed the whole thing."

"Wills, Cecily and the ‘Rich Bitches’ had the same front row seats they always have."

"Maybe she’s extremely nearsighted – to the point of – um legal blindness?"

William moaned, utterly mortified, and let his head slump. Hands tightly holding the icepack in his lap, he sighed dejectedly and spared a wilted smile in the direction of his best friends.

"I think you’re stretching just a bit too far, Willow."

"I could be right…"
Both boys shot her disbelieving looks.

"Or not," she sighed, smiling sheepishly.

Since their Freshman year the school day had started out like this. With William holding a school-nurse sanctioned icepack over his dick and Willow and Xander at his side trying desperately to find words of encouragement and comfort – and failing miserably.

The moment William arrived in Sunnydale, California straight off the plane from London, Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg had been his best friends. They ignored the poofy, curly mop of hair on his head, the big owl-like glasses that swallowed his face, his funny British-accent mixed in with the ‘baby-talk’ of a five year old, and his many allergies and accepted him right off. Of course, having new neighbor Buffy’s arm around him, leading him out to the playground, might’ve helped his case a little.

They were joined at the hip, a virtually inseparable threesome that once upon a time had been a foursome…

William took in a deep breath. "You guys can head on to class if you want. There’s really no need for three people to wallow in the pathicness of one."

"We’re not wallowing," Willow gave him a soft smile. "We’re supporting."

"But…" Xander began, quickly jumping to his feet. "If you insist…"

"Xander!"

"What?" he shrugged, his floppy-brown hair falling over his eyes. "I’ve got a French III quiz. If I wasn’t ‘parlez vous-ing’ I would totally be supporting."

William ran a hand through his curly locks and gave Willow an affectionate smile. "It’s okay, Willow. Really, get to class. I’m a big boy, can take care of myself."

He could see the hesitation on her face and gave a small sigh of relief when Willow conceded, pulling him into a hug before she climbed to her feet.

"We’ll see you at lunch, mister."

William gave a firm nod of his head, grinning. "Definitely."

The second he was alone, William leaned back against the wall, shutting his eyes. After he graduated, they would probably name the bloody bench in front of the infirmary after him. Get one of those monosyllabic monkeys down in wood shop to carve his name into it, add a nice varnish and paint the biggest, waving American flag right on the side –

"Uh – excuse me, are you William Hall?"

Eyes opened, William sat up straight. The sound of a British voice sent a surge of renewed hope coursing through his body…

A fellow countrymen. A new student (even though the school year was practically over) who needed someone to show him around –

His shoulders slumped and he let out a little groan, of disappointment, at the sight, of the rather rumpled, tweed-clad man who was obviously in his mid-forties.

Great, faculty…

"Yes sir," he said politely. "I’m William Hall."

The older man extended his hand with a friendly smile and William graciously shook it.

"I’m Rupert Giles, the – uh, Counselor here."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Could I have a word with you? It’ll only take a minute and you can get back to…" Mr. Giles curiously raised an eyebrow at the icepack, "whatever it is you’re doing."

William quickly tossed the pack aside with an embarrassed laugh and climbed to his feet.

"A word? That’s no trouble at all, sir."



**

"Miss Summers…"

Generally, academic strengths included basic subjects like your math’s or your sciences, but for Buffy; Napping-101 was the only ‘class’ she took the time to excel at.

"Miss Summers!"

Her head bolted up from its surprisingly comfortable resting-place atop her unopened Literature book, and Buffy yawned, running a hand through her hair, making the long, shimmering, gold locks perfect again.

"Hmm?"

"I’m so sorry I disturbed you," was the sarcastic reply from the dowdy Literature teacher.

"You’re forgiven," Buffy snickered, causing the rest of the class to burst into laughter.

The older woman frowned. I don’t drink nearly enough to put up with this shit. "You’re wanted in the Guidance Counselor’s office."

Carefully slipping out of the desk, Buffy straightened her mini-skirt and slipped her brand-new Prada bag on her slender shoulder.

"Don’t say anything terribly interesting while I’m gone," she called back casually as she sauntered out of the room.

And with one final flip of her impeccable hair, she was gone.



**

This girl was a mass of walking contradictions.

In all of his forty-seven years, twenty-five of those spent crammed into the tiny office of a high school surrounded by posters with sayings like ‘A Friend Is A Present You Give Yourself’, he’d never seen anyone like Buffy Summers.

Rupert Giles adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose as he studied the test scores before him.

Simply Baffling…

"You wanted to see me?"

"Hmm?"

Mr. Giles looked up, catching the petite blonde leaning against his office door: petulant scowl marring her features, she waved a blue Post-It at him.

"I got a note," Buffy sighed, voice clipped.

"Oh, right. Y – You must be Miss Summers, please come in."

She plopped down in the plush chair in front of his desk, staring at his offered hand as if it were a snake getting ready to strike her.

"I’m Mr. Giles." He cleared his throat, leaving his hand extended for the girl to shake. Buffy rolled her eyes and finally put her hand in his.

"Nice to meet you," she mumbled. "I didn’t do anything I swear! It’s probably Cordelia you want…"

"No – no, you’re not in trouble," he chuckled. "And trust me, it is you that I want…"

Buffy gave him a look.

Mr. Giles sputtered, his face turning bright red. "Oh, not in that way!" he sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I wanted to see you on the matter of your test scores."

"Oh," Buffy nodded. "Is that all? I mean, not that I’m not thankful for this little class-interrupting visit…"

"Miss Summers, you scored a 1580 on the SATs…"

"Yeah, I know," she said disinterestedly.

Mr. Giles’ eyes widened in disbelief. "You could go to any University in the country! A – And several outside of the country…"

She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Which is why," he continued, exasperated, "I don’t understand how you could be failing American Literature."

"Mrs. Cooper’s a stuck up, tight-ass who’s had it in for me since day one."

"Yes, well, while that may be true…" he began, and Buffy smiled at that, suddenly taking a liking to the flustered Brit, "your SAT scores show that you are more than capable of passing that class."

"Maybe I just test well," she grinned sheepishly. "What, I can’t have layers?"

"Your layers, Miss Summers, are not the issue. Graduating is – and here’s the bottom line… if you don’t pass American Literature, you don’t graduate."

The smile on her face completely disappeared and Buffy’s mouth hung open slightly,

"Not Graduate?"

"Not Graduate," Mr. Giles repeated.

"Oh god…"

"But don’t worry, an extremely capable mind like yours should have no problem learning the material needed right away."

"Uh-huh…" She nodded, wide-eyed.

"All you need is a disciplined study partner to keep you on the right track." Mr. Giles leaned over towards the intercom on his desk and pushed the call button. "Could you send in Mr. Hall, please?"

Buffy’s head snapped back towards the door. Mr. Hall…?

"Ah, William," Mr. Giles began, standing, "I’d like you to meet Buffy Summers, your tutee."

William froze in the doorway, his face twisting into a look of horror.

"Her?!" he roared.

Buffy quickly turned back to face Mr. Giles, her face sporting a look eerily similar to William’s. "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, Giles…"

"Mr. Giles," he corrected cleaning his glasses.

"Did someone spike your tea and crumpets?!" Buffy squeaked, angrily. "He can’t be my tutor!"

"He most certainly can. He already agreed to it, didn’t you William?"

"Well yeah, but you neglected to tell me that the idiot I was agreeing to help out was Buffy!"

"Hey!" Buffy shouted, truly offended. "I don’t need nor do I want your help, Flagpole Willie!"

"I don’t see why the two of you are shouting," Mr. Giles said casually. "It’s already been settled. I’ll just leave you to make out your own study schedule."



**

"Buffy Summers…"

Just saying the name caused a thick bile to rise up in his throat. William pushed around the sludge on his tray that was supposed to pass as ‘food’ and made a face as he swallowed the vomit.

"I’m tutoring Buffy Summers…"

"It could be worse." Willow offered him a supportive, best friend smile.

"Not bloody likely," he grumbled.

"I’ve gotta agree with Will, here," Xander said training a nasty look in the direction of the trendy table where Buffy sat laughing all snuggled up with her meathead boyfriend Angel Connelly. "Who in their right fucking mind would actually want to spend hours and hours with the gaping, vapid black hole that is Buffy Summers."

Willow grinned. "Aw, you just don’t like her cause of that time she rejected you everyday for five years."

Xander narrowed his eyes at her. "It’s not just that! She ditched us, remember?! All because we didn’t meet Cecily’s and the rest of the RB’s standards…"

"Hey," William said sternly pointing his fork at Xander. "You leave Cecily’s good name out of that group. She’s nothing like the rest of that lot."

"Right," Xander snorted. "Cause she always notices you when her boyfriend’s not slamming your dick into the flagpole."

Willow laughed nervously. "Alright guys, this rather manly display of testosterone is starting to scare me." She paused, shaking her head. "Buffy used to be our friend and no matter what, I refuse to believe that the Buffy Summers I knew is dead and buried."

"You’re the eternal optimist, Wills," William smiled.

"Darn-tootin!" the redhead nodded. "Life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Only you know, remember to put the sugar in cause this one time my mom talked me into making lemonade for her bosses while they were meeting at our house and I totally forgot to add sugar and…"

"But…" William began cutting off the rambling girl, "the girl you knew is dead and buried. There ladies and gentlemen at that table sits the hollowed-out shell of Buffy Summers," he snickered. "An alien whose mother-ship is Abercrombie & Fitch, is in total control of her now."

"Mr. Giles is insane! He’s an insane little man in tweed…"

Buffy brought a hand to her head in an attempt to stifle the god awful pounding that had begun as soon as she walked out of the Counselor’s office. She absently stirred around the food-like sludge on her tray and swallowed the vomit that had risen in her throat.

"Since when can the school actually force you to spend time with losers?!" Cordelia continued to rant to no one in particular.

"Since graduating depends on it," Buffy grumbled.

"I don’t see how you could be failing American Lit, Buffy…" Angel spoke up slipping an arm around her waist in a sign of support, "it’s an easy class."

Cecily giggled. "Well, Angel, our little Buffy isn’t exactly known for being the biggest brain. Probably too busy snoring to actually pay attention."

On the first day of her Freshman year at Sunnydale High, Buffy was given the opportunity to call the large, round table, off towards the back of the cafeteria ‘home’.

Puberty and her cousin Kate’s endless stacks of Seventeen magazines, had obviously been good to her, because suddenly Cecily Holmes, the same Cecily Holmes who’d spent the three previous years in Junior High ignoring her was at her side asking her for fashion tips. And Liam Connelly, the same Liam Connelly with his angelic face that she’d openly lusted after since the third grade, was suddenly making eyes at her –

In one day her whole world had turned upside down: allegiances shifted, and she tossed aside the three people who knew her better than anyone to be able to sit at a certain table when the lunch bell rang.

Buffy let out a hollow laugh at the girl’s comment, discreetly rolling her eyes. Lately, Cecily and the trendy table (as much as inanimate objects could) were beginning to grate on her nerves…

"What can I say, Cece – you know I’m cranky if I don’t get my full ten hours."

Angel looked at her thoughtfully. "But, you seemed to know the material pretty well when you helped me study for that poetry unit test."

Buffy chuckled giving a tiny shrug. "It was writing out all of those notes for you that did it. Must’ve totally stuck in my brain."

"Yeah, well, whatever," Cordy began, taking a sip of her Diet Coke, "I still say, it’s cruel and unusual punishment to make William Hall be your study buddy."

Emerald eyes decided to take a break from focusing on the watery meatloaf on the cafeteria tray, and shifted their attention towards the social leper colony just over Cecily’s shoulder. Spike – er – William, Xander, and Willow were laughing, more than likely at her. The Princess who’d probably end up receiving her diploma in the Idiot-Hell that was summer school, because she couldn’t even stay conscious long enough to take a test over Walt Whitman…

Why the hell is Willie laughing anyway?! He should be just as miserable as I am, miserable-er even!

Miserable-er?

Buffy frowned at her inner fake-word usage, and shook her head, snapping back to reality the second Cecily’s prissy accent cut in.

"Huh? Did you say something?" she asked.

"Yeah," Cecily said, mildly annoyed. "I asked if you’d seen Riley. That boy never misses a bloody lunch…"

"Um – Anya said something about she and Riley having to forgo lunch to finish up a Chemistry assignment in the lab."

"Oh," the Brit sighed. "Why didn’t he tell me earlier?"

"It’s Riley we’re talking about. I’m surprised he can remember how to tie his shoes every morning," Angel snickered earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

Buffy joined in, laughing the same mindless automaton laugh she had that morning when William was rammed into the flagpole for the millionth time. Her mind was too busy focusing on why Willie was all smiley and seemingly happy than to make an honest decision on whether or not Angel’s joke was funny. Then again, knowing Angel, it was probably just south of completely lame –

He shouldn’t be smiling…

**

"I was thinking, how about I tutor you? I’ve got an A, I know The Great Gatsby like the back of my hand, you’d learn in no time." Leaning against his hot, red little Mustang convertible, Angel pulled Buffy closer, her body now flush against his, and smiled sweetly. "Plus, no ‘Flagpole Willie’ to put up with."

Stretching upwards a bit, she planted a series of feathery kisses on his lips.

"For some reason, I don’t see a whole lot of studying being done in that scenario."

"What?" he asked innocently giving her ass a light squeeze, "Are you questioning my teaching abilities…?"

"Mmm-hmm."

The loud cough that came from behind the pair instantly put a stop to the kissing and ruined the moment they were in completely.

Her face dropped at the sight of him; the curly brillo-pad he called hair, plain, buttoned down brown shirt, baggy blue jeans, and impeccable scowl had sent her ‘good-down-low tickle’, scurrying away.

God, he’s like a walking cold shower…

Angel frowned. "Can we help you?"

"I’m here for Buffy," William sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Might as well get this first lesson out of the way."

"Oh, come on, Willie! It’s 3:00, I just had six hours of books, can’t I take it easy for a few before this nightmare begins…?"

Eyes closed tightly, he breathed in deeply and resisted the urge to scream. "If you hadn’t spent so much time ‘taking it easy’, this nightmare wouldn’t be happening, now would it?"

A little taken aback by William’s tone, Buffy hung her head briefly and shrugged out of her boyfriend’s arms.

"And don’t call me ‘Willie’," he added.

"Fine," she gritted her teeth. "I’ll meet you at my house."

"Meet me? Why don’t we just ride there together?"

The blonde scoffed and dramatically brought a hand to her chest as if she were absolutely horrified.

"Because I don’t ride anywhere with you."

Angel’s hands slipped onto her shoulders, lightly massaging them. "Go, Buffy. The faster this is over, the better."

She turned, lips forming into a pout and let out the loudest whine she could muster. "But he owns a Volvo!"

**

An amused smile graced William’s lips as he watched her throw open the passenger side door like there was no tomorrow and run for the front porch of the Summers’ home as if her very life depended on it…

Mix in a trip to the dentist with a little rectal surgery and you have the painful equivalent to the torture that was the approximately thirty minute car ride over. The deafening silence between them was only broken once, when Buffy took it upon herself to rummage through his glove box, discovering his tape collection.

"Boys II Men?!" she shot him a look suppressing a laugh. "You have got to be kidding."

"What’s wrong with Boys II Men?" he asked honestly. "They’ve got good harmonies."

Buffy snorted as she slipped the tape back into the compartment,

"Guess you’re not kidding."



"Alright," she said gruffly, opening the door, "lets get this over with."

William narrowed his eyes and made a small clicking sound with his teeth as he reluctantly followed the girl inside. "Right."

"Buffy is that you?!"

"Uh, yeah mom!" she shouted and grabbed William’s arm dragging him towards the stairs. The last thing she needed was for her mom to find him here and want to get all-nostalgic…

"Come on before she…"

"Hi sweetheart," the chipper voice of Joyce Summers broke in. Shoulders slumped in utter defeat and heaving a great sigh, Buffy slowly turned to face her mother. Her grip so strong on William, she could have very well been cutting off his circulation and a pained smile on her face –

"Hi, mom."

He smiled in earnest and gave a small wave of his hand to the woman who’d been like a second mother to him so long ago. "Hi, Mrs. Summers."

The blonde teen glared at him, grip now so tight she was leaving prints of her fingers on his flesh. Who the hell gave him permission to speak?!

"William," Joyce smiled softly. "Gosh, I haven’t seen you in…"

"Four years," he finished for her.

The elder Summers shook her head in that disbelieving way adults do so well when they take a moment to marvel at the miracle of growing up. "Well, you have certainly grown into a handsome young man. Isn’t he handsome, Buffy."

She rolled her eyes, snickering. "Swoon-worthy."

"Oh, I almost forgot! I brought in a new African piece from the gallery today! I was just hanging it in the kitchen…"

"Really?" he asked wrenching his poor arm free from Buffy’s vice like grasp and followed Joyce towards the kitchen. "What kind of piece?"

"What kind of piece?" Buffy half mocked, half grumbled as she slowly trailed behind the two. "Kiss ass…"

Her mother proudly stood in front of the African mask that now hung on the wall directly over the kitchen sink. "So, what do you think?" she asked beaming.

Taking in the sight of the menacing painted, glow-y red, demon eyes, and sharp wooden teeth, Buffy made a face, slowly backing up towards the door.

"It’s um…very…"

"Fascinating!" William stared at absolutely wide-eyed and entranced. He inched closer to get a better look. "What part of Africa is it from?"

"Nigeria," Joyce sighed happily. "Doesn’t it just go perfectly with this room…"

Buffy quirked a brow. "Mom, it’s angry at the room. It wants the room to suffer." Exasperated, she reached out for William’s arm once again and yanked him to her side. "Anyway, if you need us, we’ll be upstairs…"

"Upstairs…?" Joyce crossed her arms disapprovingly.

Buffy frowned. "Studying, mom! I mean…" She gave William a once over, face twisting up as if she’d just gotten a whiff of something horrible like horse manure or un-flushed toilets in a girls bathroom, "eww…"

**

"So, what first teach?" Buffy asked, dramatically flopping down on her bed. William remained frozen in the doorway; this room hadn’t changed one bit…

Okay, so maybe some of the truly dated items like New Kids on the Block posters and Jonathan Taylor Thomas BOP pinups were gone, but other than that, everything was exactly the same. The same wallpaper, the same window he used to climb in and out of – the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile at the sudden barrage of memories:

The all night pillow fight that resulted in a broken lamp…

The footie pajamas and stuffed pig Mr. Gordo Buffy just couldn’t sleep without…

The peaceful and innocent snuggling right before they both drifted off…

"Hello, earth to Willie!"

That quickly cancelled the trip down memory lane.

"Are we gonna get started or what," she rattled off, seemingly ignoring him, "because I do have an elsewhere I’d like to be."

"Don’t call me Willie," he snapped, taking a seat on the floor, "and it might help if you took out a book or two," he said sardonically, smirking. "Maybe even a piece paper and some sort of writing implement."

With another roll of her eyes, Buffy opened her backpack and dumped the contents on her bed. "Can’t see why you’re single, Willie; what girl doesn’t love repressed British wit?"

"Have you read The Great Gatsby?" he asked with a sigh, ignoring her comment.

"The ‘Great’ who?"

"Gatsby."

Five times in the fifth grade… "Nope," Buffy lied, yawning, "was I supposed to?"

William shut his eyes tightly and took in a long, deep breath. "Three fourths of this final is over The Great Gatsby," he said very slowly as if he were speaking to a moron.

She shrugged. "Is there a movie I can watch? Or, hey, is it a part of one of those books on tape series?"

"Look, I know I’m cutting in on your valuable shagging time with that magnificent poofter you’ve got for a boyfriend, but did it ever occur in that empty head of yours, the more you cooperate the faster this little lesson will be over? And the faster you’ll be able to hunt Angel down and continue the bloody hump-fest that started in the parking lot!" William shouted, nostrils flaring. The little vein in his neck pulsated and Buffy almost swore she could hear the "cha-cha" as she watched it.

Tearing her eyes away from the ‘dancing vein’, she glared at him and clenched her teeth as she finally caught on to what he’d just said. "What makes you think me and Angel…"

"Oh, come on, Buffy! Look at you!"

She titled her head to one side and gave him a good pointed look before she turned a scrutinizing eye towards her outfit. The off-the-shoulder, form fitting, cute little vintage, forest green ‘Camp Can-Do’ T-shirt, and black mini topped off with a brand new pair of Mary Janes… nope, nothing wrong with this picture…

"Who the fuck do you think you are?! She cried angrily. "Because I’m not covered from head-to-toe in some baggy nightmare, I’m automatically a big ho?!"

"I didn’t mean…"

"Didn’t mean what?!"

William forced down the gigantic lump in his throat and hung his head in shame. He really hadn’t meant to say that – out loud anyway…

"I’ll have you know, ‘Saint William’, Angel and I have never ‘shagged’!" she bit out. "I’ve never shagged anyone!"

A painful, ugly awkward silence filled the room and it seemed like an eternity had passed before William finally said:

"Never?"

Buffy frowned and repeated. "Never."

He sighed, still absolutely stunned by her revelation; The Great Gatsby apparently forgotten for now…

Pop-Culture 101: ‘The Decline of Western Civilization’ is a documentary on the Los Angeles Punk scene in the late 70’s… check it out sometime… *pulls out a gun* I mean it…

**


He was an idiot…

100%, Grade A…

Fucking Idiot.



"Never."

He sighed, still absolutely stunned by her revelation. The Great Gatsby apparently forgotten for now as William collected himself and gave Buffy a nasty smirk.

"I can’t believe you of all people is still a sodding virgin," he scoffed.

"Again," Buffy began, her voice clipped, "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, with all of the dry-humping you and Angel do, public opinion is that the two of you were doing some of the not so dry kind as well…"

"Hey! We do stuff!" she shouted. "We do plenty of – stuff! Just not that – not yet anyway. But we will – soon."

William snickered. "Whatever you say."

"All of this talk about little ole me," Buffy began grinning wickedly, "what about you Studly?"

"About me?" William asked playing stupid.

She nodded. "Mmm-hmm. So, how many lucky young ladies have seen Paradise by the Volvo-Dashboard Light?"

"Uh…" he stuttered, "well, you don’t know her of course…"

"Sure…"

"We met last year when – uh – my family and I were vacationing in Toronto."

"What’s her name?"

"H – Her name?"

Buffy casually crossed her legs and propped her chin in the palm of her hand. "Uh-huh. She does have a name, right? I’m sure that’s required by law or something…"

"It’s um…" William paused, "Cindy?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I’m telling you. It’s Cindy."

"Cindy." Buffy smiled. "Cindy from Toronto, huh?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Very talented girl."

"So, with the exception of the female population in the Greater Toronto area; how many girls here have you fucked?"

William hesitated, looking around the room, tapping his finger on the side of his head as if he really had to think…

"Too many to count really," he laughed hollowly, "I can’t help it if so many women fancy me and oh, bloody hell," he sighed, completely defeated and just a tad humiliated, running a hand through his wild curls. "Okay none. There are none," he smiled sheepishly. "Cindy from Toronto’s a total lie."

Buffy brought a hand to her chest and gasped in mock horror. "You don’t say…"

"But it’ll happen soon for me as well…"

She let out a very unlady-like snort. "Some hot little honey in the Vulkon chat-room?"

"Ha, bloody ha," he glowered. "I had Cecily more in mind – and I’ve never been a fan of Star Trek, you should know that."

"Cecily?!" Buffy squeaked and found her self wondering, just when the stable William Hall she knew way back when had become so delusional?

William nodded.

"We are talking about the same Cecily right? About 52", curly, dark hair, boyfriend by the name of Riley, as far out of your league as humanly possible?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "That’d be the one…"

Buffy paused a moment before letting out the biggest, loudest laugh, ever heard.

William sat in silence watching the girl practically double over: lips pursed a truly annoyed look on his face, he waited patiently for her to finish wiping the tears from her eyes before saying:

"Would you mind telling me what exactly is so goddamn funny?"

"It’s just," she choked out, still giggling, "you’re joking right? If it wasn’t for Riley and company finding new and interesting ways to make you sterile, Cece wouldn’t even know you exist. Buffy shook her head, "At least Angel and I are dating – you don’t have a prayer…"

"You wanna bet," he said clenching his fists.

That wicked smile slowly returned to her lips.

"Why not."

William paled. "You are aware that I wasn’t serious…"

"Lets see…" Buffy thoughtfully drummed her fingers on the bedspread. "How about we be really 90’s teen comedy about this…"

He gave her a look. "Who or what taught you how to talk?"

"On grad night," she continued, ignoring him.

"Assuming you graduate," he handily supplied, snickering.

"On grad night…" Buffy said once more as she elegantly gave him the finger, "we lose our virginity. Me to Angel and you to Cecily…"

"Where does the bet come in exactly?"

"Here. Since, Angel and I are kind of a given – I was thinking, if you do lose your virginity to Cecily, then I’ll… I dunno, drive around in that ratty-assed Volvo of yours with Boys II Men blasting all summer."

"You don’t drive!" William shouted

"So." she shrugged.

"Summers, you’re not touching my car!"

"It’s a Volvo! The craptacular’s already built in, no one would notice."

"You’re off your bird! That’s the only car I’ve got!"

"My sympathies."

"I’ve got it," William’s lips curled into a smile. "If I sleep with Cecily, then you’ll have to bring Jonathan Levinson to Cecily’s big graduation party as your date. There should be a reasonable amount of groping on your part…"

"Jonathan?! Are you out of your fucking…" Buffy trailed off, smiling suddenly. She had nothing to worry about – this was a bet she couldn’t lose. Half the time Cecily couldn’t even get William’s name right, there was no way she’d ever consent to having sex with him, unless the bookish boy stooped low enough and evoked ‘The Great Roofie Spirit’ to trick her into it –

She shuddered at that thought before putting her hand in his and giving it a hard shake. "You’ve got yourself a bet. But – uh, on a side note – Cecily tells me everything, and if she doesn’t put ‘sex’ and ‘William Hall’ in the same sentence, you lose."

"Fair enough." William climbed to his feet and tossed her his copy of ‘Gatsby’. "Now that, that’s settled, I want chapters 1-5 read by Wednesday. I’ll quiz you on it when we meet that afternoon."

With a short nod of his head, secretly enjoying the various stages of pale her face underwent the very second he said the word ‘quiz’, William made his way to the door. "See you Wednesday, Buffy," he called back mockingly, shutting the bedroom door just in time to miss being struck in the head by a flying paperback.



What in god’s name was he thinking taking this bet?!

William sighed heavily as he stared into the mirror on his dresser. Buffy was right; he didn’t have a prayer… no hope whatsoever.

The Gods must be killing themselves laughing at him…

Slightly startled by the loud sound of the door down the hall slamming shut, he shook his head: the sound of his older sister’s appalling Cockney filling his ears and stopping his inner-cursing of himself – for now anyway.

"Mummy! Daddy! I’m goin’ out!"

Nearly twenty-six and still living at home, William considered his sister Drusilla to be one of the saddest of the sad. Of course, certain allowances had to be made for her ‘condition’. Dru was fragile, had to give her, her space, let her live as normal a life as possible. After all, no one knew she had what the doctors so handily referred to as an ‘addictive personality’. No one knew that her ‘friends’ would have so many drugs…

"Looking at your pretty face, my William?"

Jumping for the second time today, William quickly turned around to find Dru smiling at him. Raven hair covering one eye, her tiny bird-like frame supported against the doorway, she "tsked" at him disapprovingly.

"Now, now William, you know vanity is a sin."

"Right, Dru," he said stepping away from the dresser. "Is there something you wanted?"

"I’m going out!" She clapped excitedly. "And you know what that means, don’t you?"

"Stay out of your room, I know."

She pointed one long, black fingernail at him, waving it. "Lots of naughty things in there that aren’t for little boy’s eyes." Dru twirled a strand of her long hair around that same finger. "You’ll miss me while I’m gone, won’t you?"

He sighed. "Terribly."

**

She doesn’t even know you exist…

Those words, more than anything else that had come out of Buffy’s annoying little mouth seemed to stick with him. As much as it pained him to admit, this was one thing that she’d been right about. William Hall in this state of being, didn’t stand a chance in hell of getting Cecily Holmes to talk to him, let alone be his first…

The door to Dru’s room creaked loudly as he eased his way inside.

In the past, his sister’s morbid fascination with death, depression, and essentially all things Goth, frightened him. He just never got why anyone would go out of his or her way to be purposefully labeled a ‘Freak’. Why stand out when you can blend in with the background hopefully well enough so that the popular, beautiful ones would leave you alone.

He was tired of being background.

Cecily never noticed the background…

Squatting to his knees, he sifted through the massive DVD collection perfectly arranged on the bottom shelf of her desk.

Hmm…’The Decline of Western Civilization’…

But all that, he figured as he eyed the DVD in his hands, was about to change.

8:15 on the dot.

He was exactly fifteen minutes late.

He was never late.

Riley stared at his watch actually feeling the seconds mercilessly tick away. It was probably the thousandth time he'd checked it that morning.

8:16 am...

He didn't get it! This kid lived for school didn't he? It was an understood rule that at 8:00, the 'morning ritual' began and he'd shown up on time every day and took his undeserved punishment.

For four years it never failed,

But by 8:17 Monday morning - two weeks before graduation -

'Wee-Willie' Hall was nowhere to be found.

"Maybe he's sick." The voice of Scott Hope broke the silence among the group of boys. He gave Riley a lopsided smile. "It could happen."

"Willie doesn't get sick!" Riley shouted, looking up from his watch for the thousandth-and-one time. "Has anyone actually ever seen him sick?"

"Uh..."

"Um..."

"No, you haven't," he said abruptly, ending the chorus of confused grunts and mumbles. "Willie's got some kind of Super Geek immune system."

8:18am....

Angel sighed. "So he's late, Riley; the world won't stop turning."

"Yeah, but this throws off my whole day, you know?"

The group nodded in understanding.

8:19am....

Forrest patted Riley on the back reassuringly. "There's always tomorrow, buddy."

**

One, well-manicured hand came up to cover her mouth as she let out one, elegantly long yawn: Ray-Ban's hiding her tired, green eyes. Buffy laughed suddenly as if she'd been programmed to, earning looks from the other girls.

"Did you forget your anti-insane-o pill this morning, Buffy?"

The blonde's mouth quickly snapped shut when she finally realized she was the only one laughing. Buffy propped her sunglasses on the top of her head. "Isn't it 8:00?"

"It's the 8:00 hour," Anya supplied matter-of-factly, "but technically, it's 8:19."

Cecily smiled, "Angel keeping you up way past your bedtime again?"

"Uh-huh," Buffy muttered absently glancing around the quad.

Where was the scream of pain? The loud laughter? Where -

The first bell of the day sounded promptly at 8:20 and Buffy moved soundlessly into the building along with everyone else, briefly sparing a look at the flagpole as she passed it.

Where was William?

**

"Did you see that guy?! You saw that guy, right?!"

William ignored Xander and continued to steam ahead towards another rack of jeans.

"Who knew you could pierce your forehead...?"

Smiling proudly, he pulled out a perfect pair of black jeans and took a step back, running dead into Willow.

"Could you not stand so close, Wills?"

"Sorry." Willow blushed backing away from William. "It's just - they have plastic clothes in here and - and the guy behind the counter is wearing a Priest collar but I'm pretty sure he's not a Father at St. Joseph's. "She now clung to Xander's arm in genuine fear as her ears were assaulted relentlessly by a Slipknot song.

"They're not plastic and what do you think of these pants?" William stated holding up the pair of jeans for his two friends.

Xander looked at the jeans, looked at him, looked at the jeans again and then back at William and sighed dramatically. "If the flagpole hasn't already killed your chances of having children one day, those jeans will definitely get the job done."

"Oh, oh god!" Willow gasped suddenly. "It's 8:30! We're - we're late - we're beyond late - we're officially skipping! We're truants! They still have cops for that sort of thing, don't they?"

"Truants?" Xander gave her a look. "Feel free to come back to the twenty- first century anytime Wills." He turned to William. "In her own, special Willow-way, she does have a point, William. What's with the school skipping and the dragging us in a store where barbed-wire is sold as a hip accessory?"

He shrugged. "Felt like shopping is all."

"Shopping?!" Xander squeaked. "You felt like - did Buffy manage to brainwash you in the one afternoon you spent together?"

"Nobody's brainwashed me, you git!" he sighed, "Now, I'm gonna go and try this stuff on." William called back jokingly as he walked away, "Try not to frighten the customers you two."

Xander paused, gazing down at the redhead still attached to his arm.

"Hey, Willow, what's a git?"

**

"How short do you want it?"

William curiously titled his head to the side, studying his curly mop closely in the stylist's mirror. The girl loudly snapped her gum and raised her brows impatiently.

"Well?"

He turned to her. "As short as you want to go."

He didn’t feel like a William.

Good, solid name as it was, it simply didn’t fit him anymore. ‘William’ meant a "walking target". Meant years of run-ins with various, faceless bullies, and the laughter and total rejection of various, faceless girls he’d fancied…

"I say, you look right handsome, my dear brother."

He continued to stare at this ‘new’ reflection of himself in the mirror, and caught a glimpse of his sister’s titled head.

Drusilla idly played with the bottle of peroxide in her hands and giggled. "Mummy will be pissed."

"My whole, bloody head’s on fire," he grumbled.

Dru ran her long, red nails through her brother’s newly platinum curls. "Pain is the price of beauty, I suppose…"

William shook his head; that was Dru, the bathroom philosopher –

"May I ask, William, what brought about this sudden change?"

"Just felt like it was time for something completely different, Dru," he sighed, leaning closer towards the mirror.

Lips pulled tightly, Drusilla nodded and placed the plain bottle down on the sink next to his hand. She looked straight ahead, locking eyes with William’s reflection.

"To thine own self be true…" she curiously raised a brow. "Who said that?"

"Polonius, it’s from Hamlet."

"Right," Dru chuckled turning away, "words to live by, don’t you think?" she called back as she eased her way out the door.

The second she was gone, William removed his glasses and pressed his face even closer to that mirror, closely scrutinizing his reflection as best he could partially blind. Squinting, he titled his head and took a deep breath, finally coming to the conclusion that the name "William", just wouldn’t do…

**

"Unghh…oh! God! Buffy…!"

Skin humming, senses heightened, and an unbelievable white-hot ball of pressure building up in the pit of her stomach, Buffy dug her fingernails deep into Angel’s shoulders, leaving little crescent marks on his smooth skin.

Burying his face in the crook of her neck, he cried out the second he came, and Buffy finally exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as the full weight of her boyfriend’s body pressed down on top of her. With a few, almost desperate gulps of air, Angel rolled off, and fell into a boneless heap next to her.

Her, eyes flittered open and she briefly wondered if sex would still feel this way without the clothes on –

"You know," Buffy began, turning over to face him, "I was thinking maybe we could try that without the jeans…" She lightly traced her fingers over his bare chest, giving him a seductive smile.

Angel managed to sit up and pressed a kiss to her forehead,

"I want to make sure you’re ready. That everything’s perfect, you know that."

Buffy sighed, her eyes narrowing as a combination of anger and certain ‘unfulfilled’ feeling joined together to create one giant mass of frustration. My boyfriend the boy scout…

"So, we’ll continue dry-humping until you feel we’ve perfected that art."

"That’s not fair, Buffy."

"Exactly," she snapped, slipping out of bed, "it’s not fair! As fairness goes – this wouldn’t even be in the fair ballpark. Hell, it’s not even in the fair continent!"

"Buffy…"

"I’m ready!" She threw her hands in the air, "Angel, I’m more than ready! We’ve been together for four years, that’s like a lifetime in high school, and we love each other, so excuse me if I’m starting to sound like the sleezy guy in some cliché Sex Ed video, but I’m tired of playing the waiting game!"

"Having your first time be special is important to me."

Her face softened at his honesty. "Special’s what you make it."

Angel opened his mouth but the sound of the phone on Buffy’s bedside table ringing, cut him off before he could speak. Eyes shooting heavenwards, Buffy cursed the phone’s bad timing and made a silent promise to strangle whomever it was on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" she said gruffly.

"Ooh, did I catch you at a bad time, luv?" was the low, mocking, baritone drawl that filled her ears and Buffy scrunched her eyebrows in confusion…

Who the hell…?

"Huh? Who is this?"

"Having voice recognition problems?" A sigh. "It’s Will."

"Will…?"

He sighed again, this time loudly. "William, you silly bint."

"Great…" Buffy began, sarcasm dripping from her voice, "Spike. My day is complete." She paused, mentally kicking herself for calling William by that long-forgotten nickname and glanced over in Angel’s direction, hoping that he didn’t catch her slip. Thank god, he’s too busy putting his shirt back on…

The thought of their not-quite-sex sent her frustration barreling back and she barked, "What do you want?!"

"Listen, I’m not going to be able to make it to today’s scheduled lesson, so I was thinking we could move it to a later time."

"How later?"

"8:00 later…"

"I can’t!" Buffy shouted. "I’m going Bronzing tonight!"

"That’s not a problem," William said causally. "Bring your books and we’ll grab a cozy, little table off to the side…"

She snorted. "Did your brain cell’s deplete at the same time your voice inexplicably dropped five octaves?! One: it’s Saturday and two: I don’t study with my dancing shoes on."

"It’s your grade, ducks." That foreign casual sound was back in his voice, where the hell was that anal retentive clicking she’d grown so used to? "I’m sure Joyce would love to tack the diploma of her one and only on the wall, but whether it even makes it to your hands is up to you."

"Since when do you call my mom Joyce?"

"See you at eight, Buffy," William teased in a singsong voice.

"There’s been a slight hitch in tonight’s plans," Buffy began, hanging up the phone. "Wee-Willie’s deciding to be a very, British thorn in my ass, and is tagging along with us to make me study…Angel?"

Shoulders slumped, lips pulled into a tight, thin line, Buffy let out one long, frustrated sigh.

Angel was gone,

God she hated when he did that…

**

William remained sitting by the phone, grimacing; he didn’t feel like a ‘Will’ either…

The name ‘Will’ had a certain, poofter ring to it he wasn’t exactly looking for.

"Great, Spike, my day is complete."

He smiled in spite of himself at that thought. It had been ages since Buffy had called him by that moniker and he was powerless to stop the memories it stirred up.



"I don’t think I like this very much…"

Buffy pursed her lips, turning away from her work, and tilted her head to get a better look at her best friend, the ends of her right pigtail brushing against her neck as she did so.

"What’s the matter, Will-ye-um?" She said his name as if she were sounding it out in class. "Don’t you trust me?"

The little boy lowered his head before looking her straight in the eye,

"I rather think not."

Buffy giggled, "When are you gonna stop talking so funny?" She straightened back up, taking her place behind him and dipped her hands into the vat of gel, "You’ll look cool, I promise. I’ve seen my cousin do this a thousand times…"

She plopped her sticky hands into his hair, making a face at the sucking noises the gel made as she ran it through. Buffy took one patch of William’s curls and glopped some gel on top of it before wrapping her tiny hand around it and pulling it straight up. She moved back, holding her hands over her mouth to keep her laughter from getting out.

"What, what’s the matter?!" William asked panicked, he could hear her sniggering.

"Nothing," she snorted and quickly covered her mouth again. She couldn’t help it, William looked so silly with that one, lone spike in the middle of his head…

"Then why are you laughing?" The boy climbed to his feet and raced towards a mirror, tiny eyes widening at the sight he saw.

"Now you’re a ‘Spike-head’," Buffy called to him doubling over in laughter.



William ran a hand through his hair as the memory faded away, a thoughtful forming on his face…



**



"Mmm-hmm…yeah, he’s a total ass sometimes – no I haven’t seen him today…" Buffy said absently, clutching her cell with her shoulder as she opened the library doors. Her cheeks puffed slightly from the yawn she held in; she couldn’t very well let Cecily know that this conversation was boring her to tears.

Lately, all her "BFF" seemed to want to talk about was Riley and how he was either a) never around or b) a total bastard when he was around. And after what happened with Angel, William inviting himself along to the Bronze, and having to be seen in the library on a Saturday, Buffy wasn’t exactly in the mood to do the best friend support thing needed for Cecily’s Riley diatribes.

"Mmm-hmm – well, that Chem project is like half of his grade, even Riley knows when to prioritize…" She bit her tongue and resisted the urge to scream. "No, I’m not saying that you’re not a priority…" Buffy managed a tiny sigh as she rounded the corner near the back of the stacks.

Would it be breaking the best friend credo if I told her to fuck off…?

"I’m getting dirty looks from the librarian so…"

Cecily’s scream of "What the fuck are you doing in a library?!" was loud enough to grab the attention of those huddled around the tables near her and succeeded in earning Buffy more than a few pointed stares. She gave them an apologetic smile and whispered into the phone,

"Gatsby. F. This is where the books live. Call you later. Bye."

She chuckled, embarrassed and a bit red-faced, and stuffed her cell phone into her bag. "You know how friend’s can be – all amazed at the incredible power of reading…"

"Shh!"

"Right," Buffy muttered, moving towards and empty table, "quiet as a mouse."

She dumped her belongings and eased towards the stacks to begin a tireless search for The Great Gatsby. Buffy craned her neck somewhat painfully as she scanned the bookends for Fitzgerald’s name. The Powers are so punishing me for using the school copy as a coaster…

"Oh! I’m so sorry!"

Blonde hair whipped around, a perfect, deadly scowl already in place and ready to tear the clumsy oaf who’d bumped into her a new asshole, but the ‘Queen Bitch’ in her died quickly at the sight of her former friend. Automatically, the corners of her lips quirked upwards into a smile.

"It’s okay, Willow."

"No, I should’ve watched where I was going and – and breathing, really." The redhead adjusted the books in her arms, moving away from Buffy. "I can go breathe somewhere else until you’re done in the "F" section."

Her hand of its own volition, grabbed Willow’s wrist, stopping the girl’s speedy getaway. "It’s fine if you breathe here," Buffy smiled. "Really, there’s no breathing restrictions in Buffy airspace."

Willow visibly relaxed. "Oh, good, can’t be too careful, you know," she grinned.

An awkward silence fell between the two girls as they somewhat reluctantly turned back to the stack of books behind them. Buffy swallowed the lump that had mysteriously formed in her throat as she scanned the books once more:

This was absolutely painful!

A million questions floated around her in head,

So, what’s the up, Willow?

What brings you to the library, Willow?

How have the last four years of your life been, Willow?

Do you hate me, Willow?

All of which never quite made it out of her mouth. All she could manage to do was move soundlessly down that endless row of books and pretend to be searching for that goddamn paperback…

Willow was the first to break the silence. "Never thought I’d see you here."

Buffy gave her look.

"Oh, well I mean," Willow bumbled, "I know you can read and all, I just never figured you the type of person to be hanging in the library on a Saturday."

"You can thank William and my café mocha for that…"

"William?"

Buffy nodded. "Weekend study session at the Bronze," she sighed and did an awful imitation of his accent, " ‘don’t forget your books, Buffy’."

Willow laughed softly. "And the café mocha?"

Buffy smiled sheepishly. "Got extremely acquainted with the school’s copy of The Great Gatsby."

"Ohh."

"So, what brings you here?"

Willow shrugged. "Nothing much, really. Just looking for a good book to curl up with tonight – and I gotta get me a life, huh?"

Buffy laughed. "Trust me," she began, sighing dejectedly as she pulled the ringing phone out of her purse. What part of ‘Library’ did Cecily not understand?! "Having a life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be," Buffy said as she unceremoniously turned her phone off.

**

Music pounding, tons of sweaty, teen bodies grinding up against each other on the dance floor, the Bronze just had to be full to capacity on the night Buffy had to lug her books along. She’d stumbled through an explanation the second her friends gave her those ‘humor the mental patient’ looks they were so damn good at giving.

Stupid William…

"I can’t believe you’re bringing that guy here," Riley gritted his teeth.

"I’m not bringing him! He’s showing up on his own!" Buffy shouted over the music. "And it’s not like I have a choice…"

"Of course you didn’t," he bit out sarcastically.

Buffy cut her eyes at him. "I’m sure you know the importance of grades, Riley! If you didn’t, you and Anya wouldn’t be locked up in the Chem lab twenty-four-fucking-seven."

"So, William will be here." Angel grabbed his girlfriend’s hand and gave it a light squeeze in support. "He and Buffy will do the study thing, then he’ll leave and we can go back to trying to have a good time and everything will be exactly the same…"

"Ooh, hello salty goodness!"

Cordelia’s sudden cry sent everyone’s heads turning in the direction of the door and Buffy’s mouth went completely dry at the sight of him…

It was obvious that no one else recognized him, but she would know William Hall anywhere and as she swallowed the lump in her throat, Buffy was left with the sinking feeling that nothing would ever be the same again…


To Be Continued...