[Reviews - 100]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 2669 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks so much for all of your encouragement! Your response has been wonderful to me.
That night, William dreamed.

He was downstairs in the kitchen, cleaning up dishes, putting away food, covering bowls with plastic wrap, which confounded him because he had never used it before and it seemed to stick to everything, including itself, but not to the actual bowl. He wound up tearing off great sheets of it and wrapping several dishes together.

He heard Buffy enter the kitchen, but he didn’t turn around because he was slightly embarrassed over the plastic wrap fiasco.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice sounded smoky and playful. He was about to be ribbed. He smiled at that.

Over his shoulder, he said, “Clearing things. Earning my keep.”

“Don’t you dare,” she said, coming to stand beside him. She took the wooden spoon he held in his hand. “You shouldn’t do that. You’re the guest of honor. Party was for you.”

She turned on the faucet and let the water run. She immediately began to hum as she rinsed the dishes.

William looked over at her, then sprung away when he realized. It wasn’t Buffy; it was Anya.

“What are you...?” he began.

“Doing here?” she laughed, still scrubbing. “Oh, you know. I always complained that Xander never took me places. Now here he is in merry old England.”

“What?”

“I’m haunting the place,” she whispered, conspiratorially.

“Haunting?”

“It’s the cool new thing. I get to be here with the one I love, but I can never, ever touch him. And, he will never know,” she said.

She tackled the baking pan, scrubbing vigorously at the red gunk around its edges. William took a step back. He watched it swirl down the sink drain in horror.

“But that’s not the best part,” Anya continued. “No, the killer is that I get to daily witness his bitterness. Then, I get to watch it fade in tiny increments undetectable by him, until finally one day he’ll come around. He’ll forget me and eventually move on. Meanwhile, I’m here, watching and watching because time doesn’t move like it did. It moves, but I’m not stuck in it. I’m just outside, looking in.”

Anya sighed. “Damn this grease. There’s no Palmolive in Purgatory. My skin gets so red and cracked.”

She looked down, watching the water as the drain sucked it down. He noticed then the diagonal gash across her back. He reached to touch it, but she whirled on him.

“But hey!” she said, in a falsely cheerful tone. “It’s all part of the luxury atonement package, right? It’s what I get for reaping a thousand years of vengeance on hapless, undeserving souls.”

Anya hopped up to sit on the lip of the sink. Behind her the water ran and ran.

“Oh, blah,” she said. “Enough of my woes. Ta-da! You’re here.”

“I’m here?” William said.

“You’re like a newly resurrected parrot. You know that?”

The water in the sink swirled red. William felt absurdly embarrassed for her. His urge to lean in and turn off the tap was almost unbearable, but when he reached for it, she caught his arm.

“Don’t do that,” she warned.

William stepped away.

“How is it I can see you?” he asked.

“Oh,” she said. She swung her dangling legs like a child on a swing. “Ooooh,” she said again, this time mockingly sympathetic.

“You’re dreaming, William. William – you’re dreaming.”

~*~

Now it was his turn to awake with a start. Actually, to him, that was the best way to wake up. Awakening with a stop was no way to begin.

So he awoke with a start. He was in the bed, with Buffy, but they were both fully clothed and above the covers. She was asleep with her head resting on his shoulder.

“Unbelievable,” he whispered. He stroked the fringe of her hair.

Then, he edged out of bed, careful not to disturb her. Downstairs, he heard breakfast table chatter. Though he didn’t know who it was meeting over bran flakes and OJ, he found the sound distinctly comforting. That kind of noise signified normal, regular morning things. No ghosts in the kitchen. No blood in the sinks. Just morning.

William went into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. He ran his hands through his hair. He checked his teeth, checked his skin. He squinched his eyes tight in an imitation of his former demonic state. Then he just stared at himself for a long while.

Downstairs a door slammed with such force, he jumped. He paused, listening for breaking glass or monsters trudging upstairs. But, no, nothing. He laughed at himself, and returned to the bedroom.

He slid back into the bed beside Buffy. She made a sleepy-head sound and curled toward him.

“That was Kennedy,” she whispered. “Slamming the door reaffirms her presence.”

“So she’s the earliest early-bird?” he asked.

“Yep. She opens the school at 5 a.m. He students view her as the Anti-Christ,” Buffy said.

“Most days you go with her?

Buffy stretched a little. “No, not most days. I’m more the mid-morning shift. We both patrol every night, but I’ve been in it longer. I pull rank. One of the few perks.”

“And the Minis? They don’t have their own circles of patrol?” he asked.

“Nah. London’s a lay-low place where vamp activity’s concerned. I’m not the One and Only anymore, but I do still have a job to do,” she said.

Downstairs, the door slammed again. William raised an eyebrow.

“That’s Busy Bee Xander, off to work. Giles helped him get the contract for rebuilding the Watcher’s offices,” she said.

William recalled a flash of dream, of Anya scrubbing pans for eternity.

“He’s not doing so well, is he?” William asked.

“Noticed, huh?”

“Poor bloke.”

“He’s tough, though. More than he looks,” Buffy said.

“Yeah, the old lumberjack facade. Got it,” William said.

The door slammed again.

“And that would be?” William led in.

“Andrew. Reporting for Watcher training,” Buffy said. “He’s not actually a Watcher, or in training. But he tags along for good measure. Faithful little Watch-er dog.”

The door closed again, softer this time.

“Andrew again,” Buffy said. “He always forgets something.”

William laughed. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Live with it. The chaos. The noise. Day in...”

Buffy sat up. “It’s not so bad. I just... I hear them every morning, coming, going. There’s a rhythm to it. It’s... I don’t know, comforting.”

“Strength in numbers,” William said, watching her closely.

“That,” she said. “Plus, rent in London...” She made an explode-y sound.

The door closed again, but this time with a sense of purpose and dignity in the sound.

“Willow, off to see the Wizard.”

“The Wizard?”

Buffy smiled. “He’s part of the Coven. They’re studying life-force magics to build an enduring protective circle around this place. It’s been done before, in places like Stonehenge and Easter Island, but the level of magics involved is supposed to be like...”

William sat up. He shook his head.

“Something wrong?”

“Um. No. No no.”

Buffy craned her neck to the side. “One ‘no’ good. Three ‘no’s’ bad,” she said.

“Buffy, I heard what Rupert said last night. What if...” he paused, shaking his head again. “What if I don’t belong here?”

Buffy’s brow creased. “Don’t even think it,” she said.

“You said you made a wish. How often does that come out candy and roses?”

“To date? Never,” she said. She looked down at her hands. “But I’m getting used to re-writing rules to fit my situation.”

He smirked. “That a fact?”

Downstairs, someone clicked off the TV and left the house. Suddenly, it was strangely still and quiet in the Flat.

“That was Dawn, off to catch her train for class,” Buffy said. “Which means...”

“We’re all alone,” William said.

Buffy arched her brows. “Hmmm. So, William, what do you want to do today?” she asked.

He leaned against the headboard, folding his arms. “There was this one thing,” he said.

She bit her lip. “Thought you’d never ask,” she said.





You must login (register) to review.