Chapter Twenty-Two
“Can I sneak a peak in the bag now?”
Buffy looked up to see William holding the bag she’d brought with her when she came for dinner. “Sure.”
Obviously curious, William quickly opened the bag. He looked up in confusion. “As desserts go they’re tasty, but somehow lack sophistication.”
She laughed. “Get over here.” Rifling through her bag, Buffy found a packet of birthday candles and a cigarette lighter. When William handed her the bag she pulled out the two cup cakes, carefully placed a candle in each of the cakes and lit them.
Sensing the sudden solemnity of her mood, William ventured, “Whose birthday is it Buffy?”
She looked at him with a sad smile, her eyes a little watery. “Dawn’s. It’s Dawn’s birthday.” When he reached for her she moved into his embrace willingly. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t want to celebrate it alone.”
“I don’t mind love,” he reassured her. “I know how much you loved her. How much you still miss her.”
Nodding, she said, “I do. I miss all of them.” A tear escaped to roll down her cheek and she swiped it away. “I know I can’t see them again but…I don’t want to forget them either.” She stared at the candle on her cup cake. The wax was slowly dribbling down the side of the candle, pooling at the base. If she waited much longer to blow it out she wouldn’t be able to eat any of the icing. The icing was Dawn’s favourite part. “They were my family.”
When Buffy looked at William a few moments later she frowned. He was staring at her with an odd look on his face, like he was suddenly psyching himself for something.
“Will, what’s wrong?”
He snapped out of it suddenly and shook his head. “Nothing.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him.
“It’s just…about you not wanting to forget.” He got up from the couch, obviously nervous, though she had no idea why. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”
“Okay,” she said carefully. “Show me.”
He became so still it was like he’d been captured in a freeze frame. “Well…it’s getting late. Maybe you should see it another time.”
“Show me.” Her expression clearly dared him to disobey her.
Swearing softly he disappeared into his office for a moment before returning with a small stack of paper clutched in one hand.
“What’s that?” She smiled expectantly, intrigued to know just what had her normally confident boyfriend so agitated.
He inched toward her slowly. “It’s just an idea I had. If you hate it I’ll throw it out and we never even have to mention it again.”
Rolling her eyes she reached forward to snatch the papers from his hand. “For goodness sake Will. Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”
Settling back into the couch with her now candle-less cup cake, she began to read…
Buffy left the building quietly, holding the large crossbow close to her chest. She could feel the smoothness of the satin dress brushing against her legs as she walked and mused on the irony of it all. Walking to her death, dressed in satin, with a weapon clutched in her hands.
A little boy was standing motionless in the grass just outside the school. “Help me?” he cried helplessly. She almost smiled. And the ironies just keep coming…
**********
When she was finished reading, Buffy shuffled the pages until they were neat again and placed them carefully on the table in front of her. Picking up the wine glass that was left on the table from dinner, she drained it dry. Only then did she look at William. The terrified look on his face was almost laughable. Almost.
“So, how long have you been writing about my life?” she asked politely.
“Not long.” He swallowed. “I know it’s probably a poor imitation but…one day over breakfast I was thinking about the stuff you’d told me about the night you fought the Master. When he killed you. And before I knew it I had a pen in my hand. It just kind of came out.”
Buffy took a moment to digest that before she spoke. “Okay. I get that. So what are you planning to do with it?”
William shook his head, throwing up his hands as he took a seat beside her on the couch. “That’s up to you. You can throw it out. You can keep it. We could continue it just between ourselves. Hell, if you want we could turn it into a book and try to get it published. Make it a series if we wanted.”
Interesting, she mused as she sat quietly, watching him squirm. She wanted to say something to make him feel better; but in all honestly she still had no idea how she felt about all this. He was writing her life! Granted he was doing a great job of it, but still…shouldn’t she be mad or something?
Growing more agitated under her calm perusal, William added, “You said that you didn’t want to forget them. I thought this might be a way for you to remember all the wonderful and painful and courageous things you did; and maybe even share them with the world. I’d like to think I’m a half decent writer now, and Buffy you have the most imaginative, amazing mind I’ve ever known. Together I really think we could create something wonderful and…and I’m running on and on like a right fool.” Glaring at the stack of paper reproachfully, he snatched it off the table impatiently and made for the kitchen. “Forget it. It was a dumb idea to begin with.”
“I don’t really want to share my entire life in Sunnydale with anyone who cares to read about it,” she began, causing him to halt halfway to the kitchen.
“I know. I’m sorry–” he began, but she cut him off.
“But…If you wrote it, you really think you could get it published?”
A hopeful smile appeared on his face as he replied, “If we wrote it then yes, I would like to think we could get it published.”
Buffy nodded thoughtfully. “And you’d set it up as a series of books? One for each of my…adventures, for lack of a better word.”
He nodded slowly.
“I have a condition.”
Quickly reseating himself on the couch, William took Buffy’s hands in his. “Anything love. Just name it.”
She took a deep breath. “I want Dawn to be the slayer.”
William’s eyes blinked in surprise. “What?”
Buffy looked at him steadily. “I said I want Dawn to be the slayer.”
He cocked his head to one side and Buffy fought a sudden smile at the Spike-like gesture.
“Why?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It just seems right somehow. I don’t belong there anymore and I don’t think I should be there. I think it would be bad for me.” She sighed a little sadly. “Dawn always felt like she was on the outside looking in. I want her to be the centre of attention this time.”
After a long silence, William smiled. “I like it. Plus there’s the whole irony thing with her name. A girl that’s named after the sunrise being forced to spend her nights fighting for her life in the darkness.”
Buffy smiled. “I didn’t think of that. See…that’s why you’re the writer.”
William chuckled. “Plus, I can’t say I would be displeased not to have to write about you and Angel.”
She nodded in understanding. “I get that.”
“But then again…I think writing about Dawn and Angel would be worse.”
“Ewww.” Buffy’s face screwed up at the thought.
“Exactly. But so much of your early life there was driven by your relationship with Angel. If we’re going to do something similar, it won’t work without a love interest.”
Thinking for a moment, Buffy suddenly grinned. “It’s all under control. I know just the person to sweep Dawn off her feet.”