With all of the decorations coming out of the attic and going up around the house, Emily-Grace's insistence that he help with her gingerbread house creation, and keeping an eye on their mother, William found that he barely had any time for himself that Sunday afternoon.
William was relieved when all of his duties were finally taken care of. Much later that evening, after Emily-Grace and Mother were settled for the night, William finally had some time to himself and could write to Buffy. He was certain that a new message from Buffy would be waiting for him, and he was eager to read what she had to say.
William sat down at the desk and opened up the drawer. He pulled out the journal before moving to sit more comfortably on his bed.
He opened up the journal to the most recent entry and smiled when he saw Buffy's scribblings. It had been over three months since they first began writing, and he was still amazed at whatever magic granted their communication. William always felt his heart jump when he saw a new entry from Buffy.
December 12, 2004
My dear William,
I decided to try something new. If this works, then Merry Christmas! Or, Happy Christmas as you Brits say (which I still say is the completely wrong thing). It isn't much, but this is the best I could do. Please turn the page!
William did as he was instructed to and jumped back somewhat when he saw something fall out of the journal and onto the floor in front of him.
He bent down and picked up what looked like a thick blank sheet of paper and carefully turned it over to look at the other side.
"Oh my," William whispered, feeling his breath leave his body. He could have sworn that his heart stopped beating from the shock.
Looking up at him was, without a doubt, the most breath-taking woman he had ever gazed upon.
The photograph was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The image was flawless, not blurred, neither underdeveloped nor overdeveloped, scratched, or splattered by developer fluid in any way. It was smooth to the touch and even glossy, unlike the photograph plates that were currently being used. If it weren't for the glossy look of the paper, it could have easily passed for an actual painting.
Photography must have advanced beyond our wildest dreams, William thought in awe, unable to resist pondering the technical aspects of the advances in photography.
Thanks to the clarity of the photograph, William was able to look at what would be, in his time, considered an exact copy of his beautiful Buffy.
Not mine, he scornfully thought to himself. She lives in the year 2004, and you would be an idiot to think that a ponce like you would ever have a chance with someone as beautiful as her.
Nonetheless, he continued to stare in awe at Buffy's picture, wondering what it would be like to actually see her in real life. To actually touch her soft cheek instead of this flat sheet of paper. To actually...
"Stop it," he murmured. "Do not get your hopes up. Nothing can happen between us. Nothing."
As he looked at her photo, William knew that, without a doubt, he was in love with Buffy Summers. The pounding of his heart, his lack of breath whenever he saw a new entry from her, and that feeling deep down inside of him that sparked to life whenever he even thought of her - they all screamed that what he was feeling was pure love.
This image made him sure that it was love. She was absolutely beautiful, both inside and out. Although William had first fallen in love with her words and spirit, seeing an image of her for the first time had sealed the deal.
He loved her.
Now what was he going to do about it?
What could he do about it?
And the answer to both of these questions was, unfortunately, quite simple: nothing.
William broke away from his thoughts and returned to the journal, finding it hard to force his eyes away from looking into her beautiful green orbs that stared back at him. He set the photograph down on the desktop, wondering how he could prevent Emily-Grace from finding it.
On the page where Buffy had placed the photo, he saw that she had written more. He sat back to continue reading.
I forgot to mention in my last entry that I met with my friends earlier this evening before I went shopping for coffee and dessert, and we got to discussing what we all wanted for Christmas. Xander seems to be behind with gift shopping - no surprise there, of course, Anya is hinting towards jewelry and something expensive, and Willow (even though she's Jewish) is excited about the holiday season. I think she is going to surprise Tara with a kitten since they both want a pet.
Anyway, what I'm trying to get to is this. Willow asked me what I wanted for Christmas this year...and I found myself fighting to keep from blurting out your name. Wow, I feel really stupid writing this...but all I want is
I really hope the photograph came through with the journal. If it didn't work, well - that's what I was trying to send, a photo of myself. Up till now I'd been afraid of taking the risk of destroying whatever allows us to communicate, but I really wanted to give something to you. And if it did work, could you do the same in return? I know photography isn't as good in your time as it is mine, but...I would love to see what you look like, William.
Yours,
Buffy
William smiled and reread her entry over two more times, taking in every word that Buffy wrote. It thrilled him that she obviously cared for him, perhaps even as much as he cared for her.
He stood and went back to his desk, opening the top drawer and pulling out a sharp paper print of himself standing in the middle of the living room. The photograph was fairly recent, only four months old. With photography such an involved and lengthy process as it was these days, he and his family did not get their photographs taken very often.
He opened to a new page and placed the photo to his left on the desktop while he wrote.
December 13, 1882
My dearest Buffy,
Words cannot express how thankful I am that you sent your photograph. Yes, your idea worked perfectly, and I am so glad it did. I, too, did not want to chance ruining what we have by trying to send objects through the desk other than our journal.
Buffy, I am simply in awe of your beauty. I never imaged that any woman could be as beautiful as you are, with your hair shining like gold, and your eyes glistening like...forgive me, I find myself babbling, as you call it. I must stop myself before I start creating more of my so-called "bloody awful poetry." Buffy, I could not have asked for a more thoughtful gift for the holiday.
I, too, wish my family could celebrate Christmas with yours. I have no doubt that Emily-Grace and Dawn would be instant friends, and Mother would absolutely adore you, I am sure of that. But let us not dwell on the impossible and go through this holiday season with regret. Be thankful for what we have, Buffy, and let us live each day to the fullest.
William paused and read over everything he had just written, somewhat surprised at just how confident he was with his writing. Less than a year ago, he would have never been so brave and sure of himself. But with this woman, William felt like he could do or say what he truly felt, and he would not be judged or ridiculed. Buffy had changed him and made him into a better, stronger man and for that alone, he would never take their correspondences for granted.
I, too, have enclosed an image of myself. The photography is no where near as clear or perfect as yours, but it is one of the few photographs we have in the house that Mother will not notice is missing. Perhaps in the spring I will ask Mother about having new photographs taken of the family and send you one of the three of us together.
I have no gift to give, Buffy, other than my words, but
"Wait just one second," William whispered to himself, trying to think up any last minute surprises he could give Buffy. He wanted to extend the same gratitude she had for him and surprise her with something in return
William crossed out the last line he had written and began again on the next line.
I do not have anything that can compete with, or even match, your modern photograph. Everything I have to offer you already know of in your world, unlike myself, who cannot see into the future. Nevertheless, I do have a present I would like you to have. I know that you will look at it and claim that you cannot accept it, but I want you to have this, Buffy. It means very much to me, and I would like to let you have a part of something that is dear to me. I will explain its significance in my next correspondence.
Take care, my heart, and may you have a relaxing Sunday afternoon.
Yours truly,
William
William reached into the top drawer once again and pulled out small cloth bag. He untied the leather binding and fully opened the bag. A pocket watch that he had never worn before fell into his waiting hand.
The pocket watch had belonged to his father, Benjamin Stafford, a man for whom William had nothing but admiration and respect. His father had died from the same illness that his mother was now suffering from when William had just turned thirteen. He did not remember much about his father, but he could remember his last few days very well, with his father struggling for breath and coughing up blood; unfortunately, they were not the days that William wanted to remember the best. Along with the investments he had left for the entire family, Benjamin also left several specific objects to William and Emmy.
Of all the things his father had left for him, the one object he treasured most was Benjamin's pocket watch. When he was very young, William could remember watching as his father had taken his pocket watch out of his vest pocket and open it up to look at the time. He had then looked down at William, showed him the watch, and had said the exact same thing. "Have I ever told you, William, that your mother bought this watch for me during our first year of marriage? I still wouldn't know the time if it weren't for her."
The watch meant so much to him today because it was a connection to both of his parents. It had quit working years ago before William was interested in wearing pocket watches, but he still held onto it. Even if it did still work, though, William suspected that he would not wear it so that he would not upset his mother or bring back memories of his father that they had tried to repress. However, he did know that he wanted the watch to go to someone he truly cared about.
Emmy was too young to even remember the pocket watch, so after reading Buffy's entry, William knew what he wanted to do. He would give it to Buffy Summers. After all, she was the only person outside of his immediate family that he cared about more than anything.
William placed the book in the bottom drawer and set the watch on top of the book so it would be the first thing Buffy saw.
With everything finished for the evening, William prepared for bed and settled down for a good night's sleep.
~~~
That evening, Buffy decided to turn in early. She had to get up early tomorrow morning to head into work and hopefully get there before Willow and Anya. She wanted to get there before her two co-workers did so she could put away the freshly gesso-ed canvases she left out to dry Saturday evening. More importantly, she also wanted to cover the two paintings she had left out in her studio in case Anya walked back there and saw her unfinished project.
She had just changed for the evening and was walking around her bedroom reading an article in the latest Entertainment Weekly when she clumsily ran into her desk. Her legs bumped against it and pushed it across the floor several inches, leaving her with what would most likely be two identical bruises in a couple days.
"Ow," she muttered. "Okay, let's work on that coordination there, Buffy."
She threw the magazine down on her bed and moved the desk back so it was straight once again. When she pulled the desk towards her, Buffy heard a soft clunk! from one of the desk drawers, as if something had gotten knocked over.
"Weird..." Buffy said, wondering what could have fallen to create that noise. She didn't keep too many things in the desk drawers just in case they suddenly wound up in 1882, so for the most part, they were empty.
She checked the drawers from top to bottom to make sure everything was okay. When she got to the drawer that was used solely for her and William's journal, she almost didn't bother opening it. However, since she was sitting there, she figured that she might as well check to see if he had replied yet. When Buffy opened the drawer a soft, "oh!" escaped her lips.
For the first time ever, the journal was not the only object in the desk drawer. Buffy looked down at what looked like a pocket watch. She carefully picked it up and grabbed the journal with her other hand. Buffy opened the journal and turned to where she had last written. She quickly skimmed what he had written, wondering why he had enclosed the pocket watch.
I, too, have enclosed an image of myself. The photography is no where near as clear and perfect as yours, but it is one of the few photographs we have in the house that Mother will not notice is missing.
Buffy flipped through the pages in the journal and even held it with the pages facing down the floor as she gently shook it. When nothing fell out, she realized that either the photograph did not travel through time correctly or he simply forgot to place it in there.
I'll have to remind him to include it next time, Buffy thought with regret. She was a bit disappointed - she had been looking forward to seeing what he looked like!
I do not have anything that can compete with, or even match, your modern photograph. Everything I have to offer you already know of in your world, unlike myself, who cannot see into the future. Nevertheless, I do have a present I would like you to have. I know that you will look at it and claim that you cannot accept it, but I want you to have this, Buffy. It means very much to me, and I would like to let you have a part of something that is dear to me. I will explain its significance in my next correspondence.
Buffy set the journal down and looked at the gold pocket watch, running her fingers over the intricate design on the front. She then opened it up and looked at the clock inside. The hands were not moving, and she hoped that sending it to 2004 hadn't broken it. The watch obviously meant a lot to William, and he was right - Buffy felt like she should not accept something that meant so much to him.
She closed the watch and turned it over to fully inspect it. At the bottom of the watch's back, she realized it was engraved.
For B. A. S.
Love A. M. S.
"Someone who is a Stafford, obviously," Buffy whispered. "A. M. S. must be his mother, Anne. So, who could it be intended for...? Benjamin?"
Buffy scowled when she realized whose watch she was holding. It was his father's!
"William! Well, you're right - I can't just take this from you," she said, looking at the front of the watch once again. "Not when your father meant so much to you."
She ran her fingers over the gold pattern, noticing just how well crafted the pocket watch was. It must have cost his mother a fortune for their time to purchase it. Buffy fiddled with the clasp, trying to figure out how to attach it to things. It was similar to a toggle clasp that bracelets often used, and Buffy decided to hook it together to make it similar to a necklace.
"Well, it won't hurt to hang onto it tonight," she whispered, a small part of her taking delight in holding something that William had just recently touched. It made her feel closer to him somehow. "And then tomorrow I will tell him I can't keep it."
She climbed into bed and looked at his watch again. It really was quite elegant. Buffy suspected that she could go to a repair shop and have them fix it. Maybe she could send it back to him properly working - that would be a nice present, after all. Of course, she also figured that most clock repairmen wouldn't be used to working on a pocket watch from 1882. She would have to make sure they wouldn’t damage it any further before she left it with anyone.
Buffy reached over and turned off her table lamp and settled into bed, hoping that she would soon fall asleep.
Very soon, Buffy found herself drifting off. She rolled over onto her side, taking the pocket watch along with her and falling asleep with the watch resting in her hand, the gold chain looping to tightly wrap around her wrist.
~~~
It is much too bright, was the first thought that ran through William's muddled mind. He was lying on his right side, which meant that the sun should be behind him - not in front.
He slowly opened his sleep-filled eyes, and began to turn over on his other side to see if the curtains had not been drawn closed. When he rolled over, however, he felt the hard surface beneath him disappear and came to realize he was now lying on hard wood floor. William felt his breath knocked out of him momentarily and rubbed his head where it had hit the floor.
He looked to his left and saw -
"My desk?" he whispered in disbelief. That was not possible. His desk was not this close to his bed.
And that's when he heard something. Sheets ruffling and then a breathy - and undoubtedly feminine - gasp.
William turned around to look to his other side and froze.
Sitting in a large bed wearing...well, what would definitely be considered indecent in his time by any standards, was the most beautiful woman that he had ever gazed upon.
She was simply the most breathtaking vision - an absolute angel dressed in next to nothing, much to William's embarrassment. Her tanned skin, a shade so dark and so bright like he had never seen in London, glowed in the morning sun. Her hair was tossed to her right shoulder in disarray and her eyes were wide with shock and disbelief.
Her bright green eyes.
He tried to form words - to ask what was going on? How? When? Why? But his mind could not think, his voice would not work, and he found that he could barely remember to breathe, let alone talk, from looking at such exquisite beauty.
"William?" The woman whispered, sitting up and looking at him more closely. "Is it...you?"
"Buffy?"
TBC
Dum dum dum! Big clifhanger, no? ;) Please review as I'd love to know what you all thought of this latest development!