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Author's Chapter Notes:
Reposting...I am also reposting the reviews for this chapter since I saved them in between the server crashes in case something like this happened.
Chapter 7:

 
Buffy arrived at work that morning on time, with a cup of coffee from the Expresso Pump in one hand and a box of new tempura paints in the other. Her stomach was still queasy, and her mind was feeling unsettled. The upsetting feeling from earlier that morning was still with her, and although Buffy tried as hard as she could, she was unable to let that feeling go.

"Hey, Buffy," Willow greeted when she walked into the front room.

"Hey, how are things?" Buffy asked as she placed her paints on the edge of her desk.

"Things are going very well," Willow announced. "I have some things you need to sign." She placed several sheets of papers on the desk, pointing where Buffy's signature was needed.

"Anything else?" Buffy asked.

Willow shook her head. "I just have some paperwork I need to do for a few of this month's clients. I was going to wait until you got here so you could manage the front today."

"Sure, that sounds find to me."

"Great. Just holler if you need me."

"Check," Buffy replied.

After Willow left the room, Buffy turned around to clear up her desk, noticiing several piles of scrap paper that was past time to throw away. She set to work cleaning off her desk and finished that up in several minutes. Buffy picked up the paints she had brought in from home, trying to think of a place to keep them for the time being. She turned around and bent down towards one of the filing cabinets behind her desk to store her paints until she headed into the studio with time to put them to use.

Behind her the bell rang, signaling that someone had just walked inside. "I'll be with you in one second," she called out while continuing to move things aside to make room for her paints.

"Oh, you look just fine where you are, baby."

Buffy froze, the breath suddenly gone out of her body. Oh my god, she thought. Her stomach clenched, her heart pounded in her chest, and she found it suddenly hard to breathe. And not for a good reason.

She slowly stood up and turned around, coming face to face with the one thing she dreaded most - Warren Mears.

Buffy swallowed, taking a deep breath before trying to speak. "What - what are...what are you doing here?"

"Can't I come see my baby when she's hard at work?" Warren asked, taking a step closer towards her.

"N-no, stay back," Buffy stammered, taking a step back and putting up her hands in defense.

"I missed you, baby," Warren said.

Buffy shook her head, taking another deep breath. "I told you, Warren. It's over."

"You don't mean that," Warren answered. He took three steps closer before Buffy could react and protest. "Look...look, Buffy, I'm-"

"If you say you're sorry for beating me, I will-"

"You'll do what, Buff?" Warren crudely asked. He took a few more steps, now standing directly in front of Buffy, easily able to reach out and touch her. It made chills run up Buffy's spine at the thought of him being so close to her once again. "What could you possibly do to me?"

"Stop it," Buffy whispered, lowering her eyes from his menacing stare. "Please...just leave."

"Take me back, Buffy," Warren spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I acted like such an ass." He ran his fingers up and down her arms, rested his brow against hers. "I'm so sorry, baby."

"No Warren, I-"

"Look, I gave us a couple months for a nice break...to let things calm down a bit, and then today I knew that it was time to see each other again," Warren said. "So, what do you say? Remember how good things were with us?"

"Please..." she whispered. "I can't take this...this again." Buffy fought back tears and tried to look anywhere but his eyes.

Warren leaned in and lightly kissed Buffy, a second later forcing her mouth open with his tongue. "Baby," he whispered after he drew back. "I love you..."

"No!" Buffy said, pushing him back with her palms.

"No?"

Warren's look of concern and peace transformed within the blink of an eye, turning into something evil and angry. His hands grabbed onto Buffy's upper arms, squeezing her skin very tightly.

"What else do I have to do?" Warren growled. His fingers tightened their grip on her arms and she yelped in pain and surprise. "I beg, I ask nicely, I plead for Christ's sake! Dammit, Buffy!"

He shook her back and forth a couple times as he spoke, causing tears to freely roll down her cheeks.

"Is there a problem in here?" A stern voice called out from the doorway.

Warren stopped shaking Buffy and immediately took a step back. He released her arms and dropped his to his side, quickly deciding to put them in his pockets instead. "Willow. Eh...hey."

"I think you need to leave," Willow stated, her stare unwavering and directed right at Warren. "Right. The hell. Now."

"Buff and I were just having a little chat, right, baby?"

Buffy had fallen to the ground as Willow spoke, crossing her arms in front of her and running her fingers up and down the places where Warren had squeezed her to the point of creating bruises. Tears silently ran down her face, and she looked down to the ground, refusing to look up at Warren and ashamed to meet Willow's eyes as well. "Please. Leave," she finally whispered.

"I think you need to do what she asks," Willow said. "Right. Now."

"And if I don't?" Warren threatened, taking a step towards the red head.

"I'll just make a quick call to the police." Willow suggested. "I'm sure it wouldn't do you any good to get arrested for abuse and battery when you're just about to take over Daddy's corporation. I'm thinking that probably wouldn't look too good on your resume."

Warren sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll continue this discussion later, baby."

"Don't count on it," Willow answered for Buffy, her eyes narrowing into slits with anger reflecting in her orbs.

Once Warren had left and the door shut behind him, Willow quickly turned around and sat on the floor with Buffy. She wrapped her arms around Buffy as she cried, whispering soothing words to her best friend. "Its okay, Buffy..."

"No! No, it's not okay," Buffy sobbed, her fists hitting the ground in anger at her inability to do anything against Warren's abuse. "I was getting better. I was...I was getting over him finally." And William was helping with that, she silently added. "He can't just do that...how can I move on, get back to normal, if he keeps walking back into my life and trying to control me?"

"I'm so sorry," Willow whispered, not knowing what else to say. "How are your arms?"

"They hurt. Kinda sore," Buffy mumbled.

Willow slowly stood up, helping Buffy onto her feet. She hugged her friend again, wiping away the tears on her cheek with her sleeve. "Why don't you head home?"

"But..."

"But nothing. I'll stay here and call Anya. I'm sure she'll understand and come in to help out," Willow explained. "So, go home, Buffy...get some rest."

Buffy hugged Willow again, taking a deep breath and pulling herself together. "Okay, I can do that."

 
~~~

 
William came home that afternoon around 5:00 after going into town with his mother and sister. While William and Emily-Grace went into the bookstore to shop around for new books, their mother went shopping to pick up several grocery items and other necessities. While in the bookstore, William searched for a new journal to use once their first one was filled. However, he was disappointed to learn that the bookstore was sold out of the type he had bought a couple months ago.

As they had walked together, William kept a close watch on his mother. He would notice how often she coughed or seemed to be unable to breathe. And with each cough, William's worry grew. The doctor had informed them several days ago that her condition was worsening. The only medicine he could prescribe was for her to have plenty of rest and clean, fresh air to breathe. However, living in the heart of London didn’t exactly provide the necessary fresh air she needed. When he had asked Buffy about consumption, she answered with only a few short words and then moved on to a new topic.

Pushing away his thoughts, William held the front door open, allowing Emily-Grace and his mother to pass him. He then he shut the door behind them before removing his jacket and slightly loosening his tie.

"If you will excuse me, ladies," he started. "I have some writing I must attend to before supper."

Anne stopped walking and turned to look at her son. These days, she often wondered just what he was writing, seeing as how he spent so much time up in his bedroom. She suspected it was possibly a novel or collection of poems, and she was curious to hear what they were about. "Just remember that we will be eating in less than thirty minutes, William."

"Of course, Mother."

"What are you writing about this time that has you so secretive?" Emily-Grace asked. "You have always allowed us to hear your poems or other thoughts in the past."

William paused, unsure of how to answer their questions withove revealing too much. "I am merely unsure of how my thoughts are progressing and do not wish to ruin my luck."

"Emily-Grace, leave your brother alone," Anne gently scolded. "Let William worry about his writing, and you can worry about your own."

"Yes, Mother," Emily-Grace replied. She hadn't meant to upset anyone, she was just genuinely curious about what his brother was writing.

"I must admit my curiosity as well, William," their mother stated with a smile on her face. "However, I know that you will let us know when you are ready."

"I will, Mother," William assured her.

He left his mother and sister downstairs in the living room as he walked up to his bedroom. How was he going to explain Buffy?

Well, the obvious answer was that he couldn't. If anyone, even his family, heard him speaking of his conversations with a woman living in 2004, he would be thought insane.

Yet, it was completely natural for him now. Writing to Buffy had become part of his daily routine, something he had managed to find time to do no matter what else was going on. The two of them had written so much to each other over the last couple of months that William was beginning to worry about what would happen when they ran out of pages. Would any journal do? Or was it that journal specificially? There were just too many questions that he did not want to think about at that moment, but he made a mental note to return to the bookstore and see if they had any new journals in their stock before the week was out.

Closing the door behind him, William immediately walked over to his - well, more like their, desk and opened up the bottom drawer. He sat down his his chair to read her latest entry.

As he flipped open to where he had last written, he noticed that she had actually written two entries. The second one was dated today, meaning that she must have written it that morning when she had first woken up. He felt a strange sensation deep in his chest when he thought that Buffy had wanted to write to him so badly, she did so twice.

William had never been good with women - after all, look how badly his attempts with Cecily had gone. However, with Buffy...things were different. He wasn't bound by the rules and expectations of his time, and instead, he could act in any manner he wished and say anything he chose. More importantly, Buffy seemed to appreciate that. She had commented several times that she could see change in him. She told him that he sounded more informal with his words and more "laid back," as she had put it once.

He had tried to keep his feelings at bay, understanding with complete clarity that their relationship could never be anything more than "pen pals," as she had called it. No matter what happened, they would only be able to write to one another, something that saddened William to no end.

His eyes scanned over her second entry one last time, and when he came to her closing, they froze on one word that she had written.

"Yours."

William felt his breath catch at seeing that word in Buffy's handwriting.

"Yours," he whispered, trying the word out for himself. "She wrote 'yours.'"

Before, Buffy had always closed her entries with such words as "sincerely," or "until next time." Today was the first day that he had ever seen her write "yours."

Could it be possible...? Did she...?

Too many thoughts were rushing through William's head all at once. He didn't know if he was overanalyizing her word choice, or if there really was something more there.

After all, Buffy had explained that relationships were handled differently in the twenty first century. Maybe this was her way of saying that she wanted...

Him?

Impossible, William thought. Not only was it impossible because they were separated by time, but William never would have imagined that a woman such as Buffy - someone so kind and beautiful, would have any interest in a man such as he.

 
November 16, 1882

Dear Buffy,

In response to your second entry, because I feel that it is the more important one of the two, I must say that there is no need to thank me, Buffy. I feel exactly the same way as you do. I, too, am thankful that we have managed to find each other and share our thoughts and information. Just as you have said, I enjoy being able to say whatever I wish and I find myself in a good mood whenever I am able to write to you.

And although there are still some words and phrases that I do not understand, you never have "stupid comments," and I find your pop culture references fascinating. Whenever you mention something it simply provides me with an opportunity to ask several questions and learn more about your culture and life in 2004. I cannot express how delighted I am to have learned so much about what is yet to come in our world.

For now, I must close this entry. I must dress for supper and join Emmy and Mother downstairs in fifteen minutes. I will respond to your first entry later this evening.

Yours truly,
William

 
William closed the journal and placed it back in it's usual spot. Just as Buffy had done, he had signed his entry with a new closing - very much like Buffy's, and yet slightly different. This was just so new...so very much the exact opposite of how matters would be handled today. For the past several months, William had considered their relationship being nothing more than strictly platonic - friends who could tell each other anything.

However, as he sat back in his chair and thought back to what they had just written, he couldn't help but feel that both of them had just taken a step forward. A step forward into what, William was unsure, but nevertheless, it was something major, and he could feel it, both in his mind and his heart.

Having finished that, William rose to get ready for dinner, all the time thinking of how Buffy would respond.

 
~~~

 
Buffy's drive home had been a reckless one, to say the least. Her hands had been shaking on the steering wheel, tears were running down her face once again, and she fought to hold back sobs that were threatening to be released. Nevertheless, she made it back home in twenty minutes still in one piece - physically, anyway.

She had been doing so much better in the past few months. It was over five months since she had left Warren, and with the help of friends, work, and William, she had been recovering nicely.

However, it appeared that all it took was one visit from her ex-boyfriend to set her back months.

"God...William," she whispered. Buffy had realized before today that writing to him was helping her recover her strength and self reliance.

And that was William.

William, however, knew nothing about her past relationships with other men, including Warren. She had never even written his name in their journal, vowing not to sully their time by mentioning him. What would William think if he knew how weak she really was?

She climbed out of her Jeep and headed into the apartment, only pausing to lock the door behind her before heading up the stairs and into her bedroom. Buffy lay down on the bed, pulling the comforter up to her shoulders, before turning onto her side and sobbing.

Stupid Warren, she thought. All she could think was - I was doing so well until he came back.

Her eyes fluttered shut, her sobs quieting, until she fell asleep.

 
~~~

Buffy tossed and turned for several hours. Her mind, even subconsciously, raced with memories of her relationship with Warren. Unfortunately, she remembered none of the good times, and plenty of the bad ones.

Nightmares raced throughout her mind, bits and pieces of his abuse coming into view. She just couldn't take it any more. Her last nightmare, and most vivid one, was of Warren shooting William, of all people.

Buffy jumped up in bed, crying out a loud "No!" She fully sat up, her chest heaving from her erratic breathing. "Oh God! Warren!"

She calmed somewhat and took a look at her surroundings, everything coming back to her quickly. She had come back home from work and attempted to sleep, hoping to forget that Warren had unexpectedly showed up at the gallery this morning. Unfortunately, that wasn't something Buffy expected to be forgetting anytime soon.

It was dark outside now. When Buffy looked at her alarm clock, she was surprised to see that the time was already 7:20. Buffy looked down; her arms were definitely bruised, causing fresh tears to rise at that thought. With her head in her hands, Buffy openly wept.

"They were just dreams," she whispered to herself. "Just silly nightmares."

Unfortunately, what had happened earlier today, was one hundred percent real. And she had the bruises to prove it.

Reaching over to her nightstand, Buffy turned on the lamp before rising and going to sit in front of her desk. She reached down and pulled out the journal, flipping to where they had last left off. There was a new message from William, but Buffy wasn't in the mood to read his writing, something that she hadn't felt since they first began writing to eachother.

She thumbed through the remaining blank pages, noticing how few actually remained. What would they do when the journal was filled? Would they be able to continue writing to one another in a new journal? Buffy didn't know what she would do if she was unable to write to William anymore. Aside from her support from Willow, William was the one person who kept her constantly grounded. What would happen if she was left alone in another month or two when they filled the journal?

She turned to a new page, taking the cap off the pen, and slowly began to write. Her hand was shaking at first, but she soon calmed down once the words began to flow.

 
November 16, 2004

My dear William,

The time has come for me to explain about my last relationship. This is the last, and most important, thing I have kept hidden from you all this time. I've kept it hidden for many reasons - trying to forget about it and move on, hoping it wouldn't affect our friendship, but most importantly, shame. Shame that you would not want to write to me anymore if you knew how weak I really am.

As you know, we do relationships differently in 2004 - no formal courting or any gentlemen-must-do-everything attitude. You date, and then maybe get married. I've explained that to you in several past entries. Well, almost a year ago, I was dating this guy - Warren Mears. He was rich, funny, smart, very popular...you name it. There was...well, he says it was instant attraction on both our parts, but later I came to doubt that was true from my side. After a few dates I was like - OK, I could really learn to like this guy. And we kept dating more and more often. But then...a few months into it, he changed.

I said that I didn't want to go out with him one night - and he suddenly pushed me across the living room. He brushed it off, saying he was stressed from work, that he would never do it again. And I believed him. I was stupid. So things carried on...only, he did it again a couple weeks later. And again. And again. Until it got to the point where he was beating me, hitting me, throwing me, when things didn't go his way.

And what did I do the entire time? I took it all. I didn't tell anyone...couldn't tell anyone, I was too ashamed to. I was supposed to be a strong, independent woman, who cared for herself, made her own money, put the food on the table, all of it. And I was being beaten, bruised regularly. My friends, Willow especially, were all becoming more worried as they saw the changes take place both emotionally and physically, but I never said a word - not until Willow finally confronted me and made me face the facts.

I finally managed to gather enough courage to end it with Warren. That was almost two months before we began writing to each other. I was starting to heal, get better...become a stronger, better me. And that was largely in thanks to you and your words. I know you say you were never a man of good words, but I disagree. Your words helped me see that there are good men out there.

I woke up this morning with a strong sense of both happiness and dread. I thought about you as I wrote this morning and realized that you always make me smile - and how wonderful it is to have that feeling back. You're actually the first guy in months that could do that - make me smile. Does that make any sense? I'm just babbling here - can't help myself. Things were going perfectly.

Warren showed up at the gallery today. Showed up this morning while I had my back turned. I heard his voice and...it was like the last few months had disappeared and I was that scared, naive, stupid girl who showed up with bruises on her arms, legs, and face. I freaked, William...couldn't do anything. If Willow hadn't been there...

So, now you know why I didn’t tell you this. You write to me thinking I am some goddess, some perfect being surviving in this cruel, harsh world. But I'm not - I have flaws and this is one of them...I was weak and stupid to think a man who abuses me could love me, but...when I see him, common sense goes out the window and I just want things to work. God, I'm so ashamed. I understand if you no longer wish to write to me - hell, if I were me, I don't know if I'd want to be in contact with me either (if that made sense).

 
Yours,
Buffy

 
Buffy's tears had dripped onto the paper several times while she had been writing about her relationship with Warren. Several words were blurred from the ink running where her tears had fallen.

She placed the journal back into the desk drawer, wiping her face, and wondered in the back of her mind if she would ever hear from William again.

 
TBC...





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