Title: Reflection of Love
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks!
Rating: Up to NC-17
Summary: Buffy inherits a house and
finds an antique mirror in the attic, a
mirror that was once owned by William
Cathcart over a hundred years ago.
Part eight...
Buffy made it to the video store and back in record
time, carefully avoiding the speed traps she remembered
from her days at Sunnydale High.
Apparently, the police force still hadn't figured out
that everyone in town knew when and how to avoid
certain streets.
Though she normally wasn't much of a speed demon,
she was afraid to be too long away from her magical
attic. In fact, the farther away she got, the more urgent
her return began to seem; like someone, somewhere
was trying to send her a message by mental telepathy,
basically telling her to move her ass.
She had already decided that she would no longer
question the wisdom of her growing feelings for William.
Those feelings were developing quite nicely without
hindrance or help. There was no stopping them now.
There probably hadn't been right from the start.
Buffy had never felt like this about a man before. She'd
had two serious relationships in her life, one that had
almost led to marriage, but even those feelings seemed
like minor trifles compared to what she was experiencing
now.
It was no longer a matter of choice. The emotions were
there. Fighting them was a waste of time and energy, no
matter how much they might end up hurting her.
**************************************************
She forced herself to slow down and walk calmly into
the house. The neighbors were all out and about, and
she didn't want to be seen rushing inside like a frantic
fool.
Stopping in the kitchen, she poured Lilybelle a dish
of fresh kibble and refilled her water bowl. As she watched
the little terrier eat, she gradually became conscious
of the emptiness in her own stomach.
So she rummaged around in the freezer, and found a
container labeled 'Beef Stew' in her grandmother's small,
neat printing. The date on the label informed her that
Nana had made the stew less than a week before her
heart attack.
Buffy popped the container into the microwave for six
minutes on 'High', then dumped the contents into a
china bowl decorated with small, yellow roses.
She'd eaten a lot of cereal out of this bowl. It had been
her favorite, and using it again...combined with the familiar
aroma of Nana's stew...was conjuring up happy memories
of her childhood.
After she was finished eating, she washed and dried
her dishes and then replaced them in the cupboard. She
wet a sponge and wiped the counters, drying them with
a paper towel.
When there was no more tidying to be done in the
kitchen, she turned off the light and headed upstairs
with a stack of videos in her hand.
Once again, she stopped outside the attic door and
took a deep breath before opening it.
To her intense disappointment, William had not yet
returned to his room.
She set the videotapes down on top of the television,
trying to stifle her urge to rap on the mirror and call out
for him. With a deep sigh, she sat down on the floor,
Indian style, and propped her chin in the cupped palm of
her hand.
What she SHOULD do, if she had an ounce of common
sense, was to go to her room and pack her bags, then
leave this house...and the mirror...behind her for good. She
couldn't very well spend the rest of her life being unhappy
because the man she wanted wasn't available to her.
Sure it would hurt for a while, but once she'd gotten
through it, she'd be better off...in the long run. If she left
now her heart might be cracked, but at least it
wouldn't be irreparably shattered beyond healing.
Eventually, she'd meet another man. One who could give
her the things she wanted from life, a man she could not
only see and hear, but could touch as well.
Was that too much to ask?
**************************************************
Needing something to occupy her hands, and her
mind, she dragged out an ancient steamer trunk
from a small alcove on the wall opposite the door,
right beneath the stained glass window.
It was as dust free an everything else in the attic,
which gave Buffy another one of those momentary
pangs of guilt. Had her grandmother's life been so
empty that she'd actually spent time dusting an attic
full of old junk?
Shaking off that gloomy thought, she flipped open
the brass latches on the trunk and lifted its lid.
The first thing she removed was a bureau scarf made
of pale blue lace that looked as delicate and fragile
as a baby spider's first web.
Beneath the scarf she found a shawl, and a hand em-
broidered white lawn tablecloth that was beginning to
yellow. There were twelve matching napkins under the
cloth, a silky beaded evening bag with a broken clasp,
and a small box filled with an assortment of costume
jewelry so old that it was now back in style.
Laying these treasures carefully to one side, she
reached in for the final item, and gasped in pure
delight.
It was a dress, something from Nana's very young
womanhood. Fashioned out of pale lavender cotton,
it had a high collar of creamy lace. The sleeves were
long, ending in cuffs that were edged with the same
cream colored lace.
The bodice of the dress was adorned with tiny cream
roses and slotted lavender satin ribbons. There was
a wide sash that would no doubt make a sizable bow
at the small of the back when it was tied.
Looking over this confection of a dress, Buffy's t-shirt
and jeans had never felt more unfeminine.
She had to try it on. She simply had to.
**************************************************
It was a stroke of pure luck that Buffy and her
grandmother had the same petite frame.
None of the other women on either side of her
family were built on the same small foundation.
She had gone through periods of her life when she'd
hated being so short. Teased in school when she
couldn't reach something on a high shelf without
a stepladder, she'd been forced to attend dances
wearing shoes that made her feel as though she
was mounted on stilts to keep from feeling
ridiculous trying to dance with a boy a foot and a
half taller than she.
Finding proper fitting clothes was a pain as well.
Even slacks she'd found on the 'Petite' rack had to be
hemmed before she could wear them, and when
she wore long skirts, she looked like she was
standing in a hole.
But now, studying her reflection in her bedroom
mirror, she silently thanked whoever was respon-
sible for making her the way she was.
The dress fit as though it had been made only for
her, and the moment she fastened the last miniature
button on the back of the collar and tied the sash,
she felt transported back in time.
"If only it was that easy," she murmured, thinking
again of William.
She was so pleased with her appearance that she
decided to take things a step further.
Quietly opening the door to Nana's room, which she
had not done since the day she'd returned, she
scouted the bureau for the glass dish that held her
grandmother's hair pins; the heavy duty ones she'd
used to put up her waist length hair for nearly sixty-five
years.
Back in her own room, Buffy arranged her hair into a
looser version of Nana's chignon, pulling out a few
wispy strands to frame her face, and fluffing her bangs.
Two tortoise shell combs slid in on the sides, finishing
the look.
Once she was satisfied with her hair, she applied
a little rose blush to her cheeks and a light coat of
matching gloss on her lips.
Although she was happy with the way she looked,
she couldn't help feel that something was missing,
some extra little touch that would complete her
feminizing makeover.
Oh, yes....
Returning to Nana's room, she found what she was
looking for; a small, dark blue bottle with teeny gold
stars painted on it.
Evening In Paris, her grandmother's favorite fragrance.
She squeezed the atomizer's blue silk snood, spritzing a
tiny amount behind each ear, feeling just a bit silly since
no one except her would be smelling it.
**************************************************
After slipping her feet into a pair of low heeled pumps,
Buffy went back up to the attic.
What the hell she thought she was doing was
anybody's guess.
Was she making a conscious effort to appear to
William as more of a girl from his place and time?
If she was, then why? What was the grand point
of the exercise?
Standing outside the attic door in an agony of in-
decision, she nearly changed her mind as well as
her clothes.
Not surprisingly, she couldn't make herself do it.
She opened the door and stepped inside.
Not certain whether she was unhappy or relieved
that William still wasn't there, she spread out the
selection of videotaped movies she'd rented.
To say that 'Sunnydale Video Mart' had a limited
choice of films would be an understatement.
She'd found a couple of old classics, 'Gone With
The Wind' and 'Wuthering Heights', all three original
'Star Wars' films, and a favorite from her childhood
that she couldn't resist; a retelling of the Cinderella
story called 'The Slipper And The Rose'.
Hoping to take her mind off her troubles while she
waited for William, she popped the tape in.
It seemed to be a little cornier than she'd remembered
it being, but she enjoyed it nonetheless, and when Cindy
and the Prince began their first dance, Buffy gave in to a
sudden impulse and played along.
After making a deep curtsy, she spun in a circle. The
skirt of her dress flared out into a bell shape as she
circled around and around and......
She nearly turned purple when she saw that
William had finally returned!
Whirling around again, she slapped the 'Off' button
on the TV.
"Oh, please don't stop," William said, moving a little
closer to the mirror. "It was lovely. Do continue."
Buffy placed her hands on her crimson cheeks,
hoping to cool them down. "I can't. I..I don't even know
what I'm doing."
She smoothed down the front of her dress, swallowing
hard. "You're probably wondering about this. I sort
of...found it. I mean, it was my grandmother's and...well
I just...just..."
He smiled and did that adorable head tilt thing again. "You
look radiant. Like a spring morning."
If the expression on his face was anything to go by,
Buffy decided, she must be doing something right. He
looked....enchanted, was the only way to describe
it.
"So....you like it?" She held the skirt out and twirled
in a circle for him, showing off shamelessly.
"Yes. Very much." William stared down at his shoes
for a moment. "And you dance charmingly," he added.
Buffy had to laugh. "Thanks. You lie charmingly."
His head came up instantly. "I promise you, I am not."
"I never learned how to dance that way." She picked up
the remote and rewound the tape, locating the ballroom
scene again, playing it for him. "But it looks like fun."
William watched the dancers on screen, shaking his head.
"Don't pay any attention to them," he instructed. "Just
listen to the music...now extend your right arm and place
your hand on my...on your partner's shoulder." He blushed
a little, but kept going. "Hold out your left arm as though
you're grasping your partner's hand...now just step back
on a three count...now to the side...that's right...one, two,
three..."
Though she had little confidence that she was doing it
correctly, Buffy was enjoying herself too much to care
as William verbally led her through the steps of the waltz.
When the music ended, and the dialog began, she ran
to replay it. Lilybelle, who had been sitting in one corner,
observing the goings on with her bright button eyes, suddenly
decided to join in the game. Trotting across the room with
her tennis ball in her mouth, she stopped in front of Buffy
and dropped it.
After nearly tripping over the little dog, Buffy picked up the
ball and tossed it. It bounced off the steamer trunk and
sailed across the attic....right through the mirror and into
William's bedroom.
*************************************************
Both William and Buffy watched in stupefied amazement
as the ball rolled past his feet and came to a stop by his
desk.
Slowly, he turned back to face her, wonder in his eyes.
For a moment, Buffy thought he was going to say
something, but he surprised her by doing no such thing.
Instead, he placed his hands on the frame of the mirror,
took in an audible breath, and stepped through.
Buffy felt as though she'd been super glued to the floor.
She couldn't move a muscle or come up with a clear
thought. Two words kept repeating over and over again
in her brain...**He's here! He's here!**
Without a word spoken by either of them, he walked
over to where she was nailed to the floor, stopping less
than two feet away. He smiled and bowed slightly at
the waist, holding out one hand to her.
Buffy, mesmerized by the magical enormity of what was
happening, placed her left hand in his and her right hand
on his shoulder.
Stepping closer, William slipped his free arm gently
around her waist and they began to dance.
The actress in the movie began to sing the words of the
song, making the moment even more supremely romantic
than it already was.
"Rainbows raced around the room
When he danced with me
Shooting stars began to zoom
When he danced with me.."
As the song continued, their movements became
more fluid and graceful, as though they'd been
dancing together forever.
"In his arms I was ascending
My life became a magic blending
Of dreams, and hope, and love
When he danced with me..."
Once again, neither of them cared to question the
how or why of it all. It felt too wonderful, like a gift
from an unseen, unknown benefactor.
"Though this lovely night is only a fantasy
And I know tonight is all there will ever be.."
"You're smiling," William observed.
"I'm happy."
He couldn't have looked more thrilled. "So am I."
"Dancing in his arms forever
My heart will never be free
Dreaming of the night he danced with me.."
They finally stopped directly beneath the stained
glass window. William began to move away, but she
held on to him by placing one of her hands over the one
he had resting at her waist. Her other hand was irresistibly
drawn to the lovely arch of his cheekbone.
Buffy knew he would never be able to initiate first
contact, so she lifted her face and slipped her caressing
hand behind his neck, pulling him forward gently, drawing
him down.
When their lips were separated by nothing more than
a sliver of air, he hesitated.
"Buffy...I...may I...."
"Yes," she said softly, smiling her approval of whatever
he had in mind. "You definitely may."
"Dreaming of the night he danced with me...."
TBC.....
AN: There you go. 'William Through The
Looking Glass'. And I don't CARE if it's
corny, Lizabeth...I'm in the mood for a
romantic fairytale.
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