Buffy had been shocked at how much the rare books cost. She frowned in distaste at them. Most of them were pretty old, some had a torn page or two and a couple even had nasty unidentifiable stains or smells. These could still be pretty pricey depending on the rarity of the book. She assumed the smelly ones must be REALLY rare! That a book was in a condition that was comparably better than the others that existed was important, especially if it was a small printing, the clerk was explaining. The words kept coming, directed at Buffy, but they bounced off of her, unnoticed or absorbed after a certain point. She was virtually word repellent, her mind utterly impervious as her eyes glazed over during the talk of value, investment and specializing a collection.
The nice man was trying to assist her, but it wasn't helping Buffy decide what to get for William. This was much more complicated than it had seemed at first whim. Certainly, she didn't want to spend a ton of money on something antique and icky that he wouldn't like.
The clerk paused, waiting to regain her attention. Buffy abruptly realized the words had stopped and looked up apologetically.
"Perhaps I've started off the wrong way," he said patiently, "Why don't we begin with what the young man likes and then I can tell you what is available. Do you have any ideas as to what he might enjoy reading?"
"Ummm…" Buffy thought for a moment, "He had a paperback that looked pretty beat up of the three somethings by Alexander somebody." She made a face. "Does that sound familiar?"
"Ah," the man brightened, delighted that he had something to go on, "The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas. That is a good book. Plenty of action and adventure to satisfy anyone. It so happens, " he guided her in another direction, "that we have a lovely leather-bound edition of The Count of Monte Cristo, which is also by Dumas," he stopped at a case, "and you'll like it because despite this edition being out of print, it's a new copy. Never been out of the shrink wrap. It isn't rare, but I think you'll find it fits your criteria." He handed her the book, holding his breath slightly.
"Is it good?" Buffy asked, eyeing the navy leather, gold embossed book warily. "It looks kind of thick."
"It is a feature in this case, I assure you, that the story lasts longer," He said quickly. He told her the price.
'Pretty expensive,' thought Buffy, 'for a book.' But this one wasn't silly priced like the ones she'd seen earlier and it was nice looking. It wasn't all old and dirty like the others and the man said the story was good. 'I'll just tell Dad it was payment for tutoring me. He can't argue with that.' She shrugged. 'Plus it's less than the jeans I just bought.' The purchase thus rationalized, she told the man to wrap it up.
Much relieved, he did so. 'Thought that was going to be the hardest customer of the day,' the clerk thought wryly, 'the three somethings, my God…what are they teaching them?' He sniffed slightly as he cut the paper precisely. 'At least the boy has taste.'
Buffy looked at her watch and thought, 'Cordy's going to be so mad! I'll just have to tell her I had a hard time picking something out for my Dad.' She hurried the old clerk up with her eyes, 'C'mon, c'mon…' She whispered internally. Practically snatching it up after paying, she ran out the door, mumbling a hasty thank you.
Drusilla held his hand a moment too long and William gently tugged it away, uncomfortable. She was a pretty girl, he supposed, if you went for the dark, frail type. About average height, an inch or so shorter than William himself in the heels she wore, she looked as though she never ate or possibly only nibbled on a celery stick from time to time. He wondered how long she'd been here, since her skin was pale and translucent, untouched by the California sun. She wore jeans and a thin, long sleeved white blouse with ruffles adorning the wrists and the deep neckline. The romantic, soft look was belied by the sharp black stiletto heeled boots that peeped out from the hems of her jeans. He didn't quite know what to make of her.
"So, William," she said in a low voice, trailing one slim hand over his black T-shirted chest, "I've noticed you come here quite a bit lately. Where did you learn to do all of those-" she waved a languid hand at the bag.
William backed away a step, irritated. "In London," he said shortly.
She looked older than he was, but he couldn't tell how much as her skin was smooth and unlined. It was something about her eyes, he thought, that made him think she was older; they were grey blue with a dreamy haze clouding them but oddly knowing, as if she had secrets to share or withhold.
"Oh London," Drusilla clapped her hands, "another exiled Londoner, so lovely. We can talk all about home together." Completely disregarding William's cues that he was uneasy with the informal touching, she grasped his arm in long pale fingers and led him, somewhat unwilling, to the mats where she'd been sitting.
"I'd barely started-" William protested faintly, with a gesture of his free arm to the bag.
"You can work out any time, no?" Drusilla said persuasively, "How often do you get to talk about home? Anyway, it would be ungentlemanly to leave me so bored, wouldn't it? My father owns this place and won't be finished for hours yet."
'Hours.' William groaned to himself. 'Great.'
"Umm, you look old enough to drive," he said a bit pointedly, "Why are you stuck here?"
Drusilla pouted, "I haven't got a license here yet, nor a car. No one's available to take me home right now and it's so tedious."
William hesitated. Either he would have to talk to her here for unknown "hours" or he could offer to… "Would you like a ride? I can take you home, no problem," he offered.
She smiled at him, pleased, "Oh, would you? That would be wonderful! Let me just go tell Daddy!" With that, she rose and tip-tapped out of the room on her heels.
William sighed. It didn't look like he was going to get a workout today. By the time he got her home, wherever she lived, it would be time to get home for dinner. He went back to the locker to get his bag.
"I sing." Drusilla said abruptly into the silence that had settled over the car, barring instructions to turn this way or that. "I'm singing next Friday at the Bronze. You should come."
"Oh, I'm not old enough for clubs, sorry." William said and thought that was that. 'So she is older,' he thought.
Drusilla laughed, "No silly, you don't have to be twenty one to get in, just to drink." She slid across the seat until she was speaking nearly in his ear. "Well, to drink legally anyway. Such a ridiculous age it is here." She purred, "We're good. It'll be fun, I promise. You should come." The car came to a stop in front of her house and she slid back to the passenger door. He caught the sparkle from a pinpoint diamond dangling from her ear as she swept her hair back again and he realized that her earrings were tiny silver colored skulls with diamond eyes.
Odd choice, he thought, so delicate and grim at the same time. He saw that she was waiting for an answer, "I'll try to make it," he lied.
She grinned, "Come at eight thirty. We go on at nine."
He nodded and waved at her, waiting for her to shut the door.
She stood there, staring at him and mused to herself quietly, "So much under the surface…so much untapped." Smiling again, she said, "Don't forget William. The Bronze at eight thirty on Friday." She shut the door and tapped the roof cheerily in goodbye.
William raised his eyebrows and shook his head as he pulled away from the curb.
At the library on Monday, William stared at the box and then up at Buffy. "This is for me?" He repeated stupidly.
Buffy smiled nervously, "Sure! For helping me. You've already helped me improve and given me an idea for my English paper and I got a 100 on the history test! Oh I didn't tell you that!" Impulsively, she hugged him quickly. "Thank you!"
He was immersed in her scent for the brief moments she had her arms around him and he closed his eyes and breathed in the subtle perfume of her hair as he relished the softness and warmth of her small body. It was over too fast for him to identify her fragrance. "And…I felt bad that we argued Friday." She stepped back and said, "Go on, open it!"
He opened the taped seams carefully and drew the white box out. Upon opening it, he said, "Oh, um, thank you."
She leaned over him, "Yeah, I know, boys don't think clothes are really gifts, but that color will be so great on you and I just had to buy it when I saw it."
William blinked at her, through the golden strands of her hair hanging near his face, "Well, uh, thank you. It's a very nice shirt," he said awkwardly. He wondered what it meant that she'd bought him clothing. Didn't that mean something, when a girl bought clothing for you?
Buffy laughed at him and handed him a second box, "Here, I got you something else too, 'cause I knew the whole clothes/guy thing…"
He took the second box gingerly, fearing a tie lay inside. 'Wait, do ties count as clothes? She distinctly implied that it wasn't clothes,' he thought. 'No, it's too heavy to be clothes and far too big to be a tie.' He mentally smacked himself, 'Just open it, you wanker.' He applied himself to the tape on the second box and lifted the lid.
"Ohhhh," he breathed, "this is, this is one of my favorites," he said, looking at her with genuine happiness this time. "Thank you."
"Oh," she pouted, "you've read it already?" She made a grab for it, "I can return it and get something else-"
He clutched it to him, "No! No, I love it! Really. It's a great book, an old friend, and I'd love to read it again. Have you read it?" He asked her.
Buffy blushed, "Um, no. I haven't read it. I told the man at the store what you were reading - that three musketeers book and he recommended this one." She looked at him shyly through her lashes, "So it's a good one?"
William set the book down on the table and gathered his courage. He stood up and hugged her gently. "It's a bloody fantastic one. Thank you." Releasing her, he smiled. "You couldn't have chosen better. I'm glad your grades are improving; you've worked hard."
Cordelia rolled her eyes at the two from where she stood in the library stacks and waved a shushing hand at Harmony who stood behind her and looked about to explode. 'Buffy, Buffy, what on earth are you doing?' She thought.
William had changed up his gym schedule, waking earlier in the mornings Saturday and Sunday and going before school this morning instead of afterwards and had so far successfully managed to avoid seeing the strange Drusilla again. He sat ensconced on the couch now, relaxed and studying before dinner.
William looked up as the door opened and his mother walked into the living room. "You ok, Mum?" He asked in concern, noting the weary, drawn look on her face.
"Yes, William, just tired," she said and sank gratefully into the couch beside him.
He studied her face, peering into the blue eyes so like his own, "Would you like anything? A cup of tea, perhaps?" He stood.
His Aunt Jenny appeared in the hall and came in to join them. "Dinner will be ready shortly," she said.
"Oh, thank you, Jenny. Tea would be perfect," Anne responded to William and pressed a hand to her head.
"You sure you're alright?" William repeated his question anxiously.
Jenny moved over to hover near Anne.
Anne paused, then said, "Yes, darling. I'm fine. Tea would be wonderful," she prodded him gently and he left to brew some.
Jenny took Anne's hand and smiled sympathetically at her. "Not a good day?"
Anne shook her head, "No, not a good day," was all she replied.
Angel cornered Buffy at her locker before first period the next day and bending in for a kiss said, "Hey Baby, anything new?"
Buffy kissed him back and grinned at him, "Nope. No newness here. Everything all sameness!" She reached for the book for her first class and was startled when his arms circled her.
"You sure?" He asked her again. "Nothing new you'd like to share?"
She looked at him, puzzled, "No, Angel, why?"
"Oh, I don't know. I hear things…" Angel said coolly. "Like you were hugging somebody in the library the other day who wasn't me?" He teased her, but a hint of steel lay beneath the words.
Buffy blushed, "That was just William," she said, wondering who the heck had seen them in the library. "I passed my history test. Got a 100!" She beamed at him. "He helped me study."
"I'll bet he did," Angel murmured. "That's just great, Baby." He paused, "Maybe you should keep a nice, safe businesslike distance, though, hmm? I don't like hearing my sweet girl is hugging another guy." He kept his tone light, but she sensed things roiling under the surface of that nonchalant tone.
Buffy rolled her eyes at him. "Oh Angel, you know I love you. He's just tutoring me." She squeezed him tighter, "No need to be jealous of William, for goodness sakes."
"All the same-" Angel started.
She looked into his eyes. "Won't happen again." She planted another small kiss on his lips. "C'mon, we're going to be late," and she led him off down the hallway, hand in hand.
End Note: Please review if you've a moment! :) Thanks.