Buffy could never understand the reason why William drank so much each time after they had had a fight.
Until now.
As she swallowed down her fourth -- or was it fifth? -- shot of whiskey of that night, she was wondering why he did not do it more. As soon as William had left, she felt on edge. The bath Willow had run for her and done a little to ease her nerves, unlike the sixth shot she was now drinking.
Buffy wandered around the apartment, not to snoop, but trying to get a sense of William and how she had fallen in love with him without realising it.
He was attractive; she was not blind. While that had helped the process along, it was not the reason she loved him. There was a passion to him that drew her in, he kept it under the surface, and she suspected that he had kept it repressed for so long, he had forgotten he possessed it. Channelled it into his work probably, or at least his co-worker Faith.
Without realising it, she had wondered into his room. It sparsely decorated. She guessed some interior designer would call it minimalist. It had no personal touches with the exception of two things: the wedding photo that Angel had in his office, and black satin sheets on his bed – the same kind he had back at the estate.
She blushed as she thought back to the night they had spent finding comfort in each other’s bodies. It had not been about love, she knew that, but they had shared more than sex too. Maybe she had acted like a sixteen-year-old school girl-- in love with anyone who would have sex with her.
She picked up the photo; it seemed to be following her as if it were trying to tell her something -- Angel, Dru, William and herself all together, happily smiling, one big happy family. She wondered what Angel would say about her being in love with William. She closed her eyes and could hear his laughter, followed by a good dose of sibling ribbing, “Apple not falling far from the tree,” and all that. He would be happy for her. Angel had always wanted her to find the happiness that he and Dru had. Would he be happy at the price that he and Dru had paid for it?
Buffy opened William’s wardrobe, again she was not snooping, just finding out what made the man tick. Flipping through the tailored charcoal suits, she was not finding anything new until she spied a black leather duster in the back. Now this was interesting.
She took it out of the wardrobe and tried it on. It was a little big for her. It smelt of stale cigarettes and something uniquely William. She could not imagine him wearing something so… well, something so not a charcoal suit.
She walked back into the dining room in search of more alcohol, her head was beginning to pound, and she knew the only remedy for that was more shots. As she swallowed down another, she tried to reconcile William and the jacket. She could not see it. Then again, she could not see him taking a yoga class either and he had done that.
Crap, she was supposed to call Riley, she had promised to check in and see how the classes were going. She took her cell and dialled the number.
“Hey, it’s Riley leave your name and number after the beep and I will call you right back.”
“Riley, it’s Buffy. Just checking on how you and the classes were going. Call me when you get a chance.”
Buffy snapped the phone shut. See now Riley, it made much more sense if she could fall in love with him. At least they had things in common and did not want to rip each other’s throats out every ten seconds.
However, in the meantime, she would continue to snoop through William’s apartment.
“So, did you tell her?” Faith asked as soon as she climbed in his car.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She hates me.”
“Did she say that?”
“In so many words.”
“William—“
“Can we drop this please?”
Faith sighed heavily, letting out a snort of disapproval in the process and said, “Fine.”
Only, she did not let it go. Once they were seated at their table, the table they had to share with three other couples, she brought it up again. That would not have been too bad had it not been during a speech.
“She should have come,” Faith said matter-of-factly.
William glared at her. “She hates me remember?”
“William, she doesn’t hate you. That woman was ready to claw my eyes out.”
William looked at her, aghast. “What?”
“You don’t know anything about women at all do you?” Faith asked dryly. “She thought we were an item, and that you’d kept me from her. Were you trying to make her jealous?”
“No, I – I just—“
“Forgot about me?” Faith asked her mouth quirking into a smile.
He said nothing, but smiled apologetically at her, and at the people at the table glaring at them.
“William,” Faith continued, mindless of what anyone thought or where they were and what they should be doing. “Are you in love with her?”
William felt as though he had been sucker punched. That question, the very idea of it, sent all the air in him evacuating. His mind conjured up Buffy in his mind. Gorgeous, smart, quirky, saucy, sarcastic, witty, with a killer smile and body, Buffy. The Buffy that had turned his life upside down, the Buffy that drove him round the bend – The Buffy that put him in his place, the Burry that made him loosen up and want more in his life than his career.
“Bloody hell,” he murmured in amazement.
Faith smirked, “Thought so. Here’s an idea. Get the hell home and tell her or she’ll think you hate her.”
William had never felt such a panicked rush to get somewhere before. He felt frantic and every minute that went by, felt like twenty. When he finally got to his penthouse, he ran up the stairs and burst through the door. It was dark in the sitting room, however…
Was that The Sex Pistols he was hearing coming from his bedroom? Making his way to the second floor, he found the light on his bedroom, spilling into the hallway. What the—
Walking in, he found Buffy in his duster, jamming out to what was in fact The Sex Pistols.
She was . . . “Are you drunk?” he demanded.
Buffy stopped mid dance and he had to admit, she looked absolutely adorable in his duster jamming to his music. Her hair was a tangled mess in her face, and she appeared to be hot by the red of her cheeks. Was it any wonder why he loved this woman?
She pointed at him, “What are you doing here?”
“Pet, how is it that you’re the one in my room, in my duster, listening to my music, but somehow you’ve managed to make it seem as if I’m the guilty party here?” He was not angry or accusatory at all, merely amused.
She pouted, holding her head high.
That lip…gonna get it…gonna get it…
She took a deep breath and pointed at him, opening her mouth to say something and then started to crumble to the floor.
William rushed to her, “Buffy?”
“Is the room supposed to spin? I feel like I’m on a Sit and Spin.”
He held back a chuckle, “Come on, pet. Let’s get you lying down.”
“Won’t that make it worse?”
“Just shut your eyes and focus on something else.”
Helping her flop on the bed she sprawled out, her limbs flung everywhere. She looked like a starfish. She smiled dreamily. “Home…”
He frowned, trying to gauge what home she meant exactly. “I’m going to get you some water, love.”
She murmured her agreement to that and kept her eyes closed. Quickly, William rushed to get water and aspirin, and finding the empty whiskey, he grimaced at the thought of her hangover and rushed back to her.
However, she wasn’t lying down as he had told her. Why he thought she would do as he said when she was drunk, as she never did when sober, he didn’t know. She was back up dancing as though his room had turned back into a club.
“I had my rest; the room has stopped spinning now.” By way of explanation she did another twirl around the room.
“I don’t know why you like this music William. It’s very hard to dance to. Do you have any Abba?”
“Sorry pet this is an Abba free zone. The whole idea of punk wasn’t about dancing, it was about breaking rules and not caring about what any one else thought.”
She started to laugh hysterically. “William Giles you wouldn’t know how to break a rule even if you tried.”
‘”I take offence to that. I was quite the rebel back in the day.”
“Okay, first off rebel boy, I don’t think bad asses use the term ’back in the day’, in fact no one under 85 uses the term ‘back in the day’.”
“True,” he consented.
Buffy sat back down on the bed next to him. “What happened? When did rebel William get replaced by Mister Tightly Wound?”
“Spike.”
“You got spiked?”
No back in the day my name was Spike. I don’t know what happened really. I had all these plans be a rock star and the like, but when my father died it was all taken from me. I had to grow up.”
“Like I had to when Angel died.” She understood the loss of dreams never realised.
“It will get easier, I promise. I know it’s hard when you lose the person you love,” he said gently.
She looked up at the person that she loved and knew how hard it was to love someone that didn’t love you back. To love someone and to be afraid to tell them. She could almost hear him in her head saying ”Now Buffy, don’t be ridiculous. You know we’re here for Ella. . . “ Though that had never stopped the outbursts of passion he was prone to. The kissing, the almost kissing, and the way he freaked whenever Riley was around.
However, that disrupted the nuclear family they had going, didn’t it? I mean, Faith was the woman to go to parties with and Buffy was the woman to come home and play house with. And if the lines blurred a bit and they had a bit of sex, well then, that worked out well then, didn’t it?
Except it didn’t work out well. Not for her. She wanted to know that those outbursts of passion were because William wanted her, not the family they made. That his hatred of Riley had to do with had to do with jealousy and not the fear she’d disrupt their home life to be with Riley instead.
She was dangerously close to tears now. I really miss my brother.
William watched her, could see the wheels turning and the sadness that overcame her almost instantly. “Buffy, pet…talk to me. What is it?”
She shook her head, and wiped at the tears that were beginning to fall. “Nothing.”
“No, it’s something. Talk to me, please.”
“I don’t want to,” she said petulantly, pouting.
“Do you want to lie down?”
She shook her head.
Not bothering to ask her permission, William gathered her in his arms and felt himself sigh with relief when she didn’t pull back. He’d wanted to do this all night. This was where she belonged; this was where he belonged. He rubbed her back soothingly, trying to waylay some of her sadness.
“I miss Angel,” she whimpered. “He’d know what to do. He always knew what to do.”
“What to do about what, kitten?”
She answered by burying her face in his chest.
“I’m here, Buffy. You can talk to me believe it or not. I haven’t made things easy on you, I know. I keep bouncing back and forth, playing hot and cold…and we never seem to get our hot and cold to coincide, do we?”
She said nothing, so he continued. At least she was listening.
“I draw you in and then pull back and it’s no wonder you think you’re just there out of convenience. I don’t give you any reason to think that I might care any different for you than the fact that you’re my sister-in-law and we take care of Ella together. But, Buffy…I…I love you. That’s the first time I’ve told anyone but my family that. I realize that telling you this while you’re drunk is not the best time, considering you might not remember any of it and your emotions are running high and –“ He broke off when he heard her snore. “And because you could pass out at any time during my declaration.” He sighed heavily. “Great, that’s just great.”
He sighed and set the cup down. If you can’t beat em’ join em’, he thought and set about preparing for bed. When he was changed, he arranged Buffy comfortably against the pillows and covered her up. Stretching out next to her, he kissed her forehead. “We’ll talk in the morning, pet.”