She was decidedly unable to figure out the purpose of tea. Yes, she drank chamomile when she was stressed before a big battle. Yes, she swallowed down Giles’s brew when he made it. Yes, she made tea for others. No, she did not understand the purpose of tea. And most definitely not a tea party. It looked like fun in Alice in Wonderland. But not in practice. Especially when there were no white rabbits to be seen. Anywhere. Of any kind.
Of course, she might be biased. After all, she’d been at the party for three hours and had yet to hear one positive thing said about William, or even a definite confirmation of his existence. Recognition of his name also seemed to breed the insinuation that there wasn’t much to tell, or much to remember after having been told.
The disquieted blonde couldn’t reconcile the memory of the man that she knew with the horribly un-varying insinuations of most people in attendance. Where was the vibrancy? Where was the charm? Where was the devil may care attitude? Or even, dare she think it? Where was the quiet patience? The understanding? The gentleness? Where was any semblance of the man that she had known for the last six years? Had the conquest of demon over man really changed the core of who William was? Who Spike was? If she ever met up with him, would there be any recognition? Or would it just be another man wearing her lover’s face?
There was no way to tell.
Or even hope.
Years ago Angel had told her that once a person underwent the change, they were nothing like who’d they had been before. While in retrospect, she’d learned never to take anything that Angel said at face value, as there were always aspects of the truth that he was trying to hide. Usually to the betterment of his own image. Hair gel aside.
Sometimes…rarely,…Angel did have a valid point. Did this mean that she would have to consider that all of her efforts, all of her spells (i.e. all of her conniving to get Willow to agree and thus cast a spell), and all of her lying and half truths told to Giles and what was left of the gang so that she could disappear for a year without question and without the threat of a locator spell? Was that all for nothing? Did she push Dawn away yet again? Did she even know anymore?
Was fixing her mistakes with Spike worth it?
Definitely.
Was proving to him, at some point in time, that he was valued, appreciated, and most importantly loved, worth all of the lies and heartache caused to her friends and family?
Most assuredly.
Did she believe that she was doing the right thing on all accounts?
Yes.
Then why was she so worried?
Because it may never be enough to fix what you did. Nothing will make up for treating him like trash, leaving him night after night, having no compassion when he was crazy in the school basement…beating him up and leaving him for sunrise. The cynical Buffy subconscious piped up and told off her needing-to-sugarcoat-conscious that was prone to living in denial.
“Great now I’m hearing voices,” Buffy thought with a sigh.
“Hearing voices dear?” Mrs. Smyth trailed off in a worried murmur. Never get that one married off that way.
“Huh? What! No! I just had some unpleasant thoughts and they seemed so loud, as if someone were talking to me. Great! Now she thinks I’m a nut job.
“Quite right, dear, I often plague myself with strong thoughts.”
“Mhmm.” The Slayer added distractedly. Then, realizing that she was speaking with Mrs. Smyth, the woman that she had been waiting to speak to all day, the blonde perked up, and started in on her next topic. “Mrs. Smyth?”
“Yes, child?”
“Um…I…well…” she began, trailing off.
“Speak up young lady. While I may still be able to match young couples together, it is generally agreeable to both the potential couple and me that I hear what their interests are. Not just doing so on the principle that they ‘look’ right together or will produce beautiful children.” Mrs. Smyth shot off her opinion without preamble and without waiting for other conclusions from the surrounding guests. She’d been around long enough in this world not to care what people think and to think of what people care about. In her much established opinion, life was short, so say what was meant to be said. After being widowed twice, she knew how to cut to the chase.
“Well, Mrs. Smyth, I was wondering if you knew a Mr. William Pratt?” She breathed out, her nervousness shown by her consistent need to tuck imagined hair behind her ear.
Mrs. Smyth, a master of body language, read the petite girl quite clearly. Perhaps I need not search the isle over in order to find a match for this one. It would seem that her heart already belongs to someone. Good thing too, the men around here are much too stuffy for such a spirited child.
“No dear-heart, I do not believe that I have heard of a Mr. Pratt. Where did you meet him?” Is there really a young courting fellow that I do not know?
“I have not met him, per se. A friend of a friend mentioned him. She said that I might enjoy his company.” Mrs. Smyth doesn’t know him? God, she’s like the English equivalent of Cordelia with the latest People magazine. I’ll never find him. Only went to this stupid tea to ask her anyway. The girl ended her thought tirade with a deepening scowl.
“Oh dear, I did not mean to upset you. I am perfectly certain that some of the girls around here must know him. If mere description alone was enough to capture you heart, then surely he holds pieces of their hearts as well,” offered Mrs. Smyth reassuringly.
“Yes, I’m sure” the young woman replied with a tight smile. Don’t kill the nice lady who can help you find him, even if she does assume that my vampire is some type of player. That my vampire would cheat on me. That my vamp…God, he’s not mine is he? He doesn’t even know me. He could be with someone…a married someone. “What will I do then?” Buffy asked dejectedly, unknowingly voicing her distress.
Oh the poor dear, this Mr. Pratt does not just hold a piece of her heart, he holds the entire thing. Soul too if I am not mistaken. She is such a ripe blossom, full of life, reminds me so much of me when I was younger, I will help her find him. After all, I have never tried to match a person already in love. Should be viewed as a God-given mission, rather than the machinations of an old, bored woman. Mrs. Smyth thought. Her network of friends and relatives was quite large (two husbands would do that for you). Someone had to know how to get into contact with a Mr. William Pratt.
“Well, Elizabeth, we will find him and make sure that he knows just how hard you tried to find
him” Mrs. Smyth added, hating to have been the one to put a frown on this lovely creature’s face.
“Thank you, Mrs. Smyth. I am quite sure that with your aid, I will find W-Mr. Pratt very soon,” Buffy added with a demure blush. At least she hoped, she wasn’t exactly sure how to play the blushing virgin, considering she’d given that part of herself to a demon.
Eventually Rawlings made it to the tea and introduced Elizabeth to, in her opinion, every available bachelor in England. However, perhaps the most disturbing thing about the introductions was the age of the men that Rawlings showed her. Talk about entrance into the Sugar Daddy world. There was no way she was getting within ten feet of these men, let alone allow them to ‘court’ her. Anyone came that close to her, they were going to see an extremely un-lady-like move, in the form of a roundhouse kick to the head. Propriety be damned. She wasn’t into old (vampiric lovers aside) or anyone that didn’t answer to the name of William or Spike.
Besides, most wouldn’t let her get a word in edgewise. All they talked about were their landholdings, how closely related they were to some far-off royalty that she’d never heard of, or what they expected in a future bride. Basically the steps in which she needed to become a perfect doll. No thank you.
She’d take an over-zealous, over-protective, pig-headed, and demonic boyfriend any day.
Mrs. Smyth, seeing Rawlings lead Elizabeth to another pompous and over-weight bachelor, decided to step in and introduce her to some girls her own age. The poor child needed some friends in the area; it would not do to have the girl married off with her husband as her only company. That became terribly dull and uneventful. Fast. Mrs. Smyth knew that experience well.
“Elizabeth?” Mrs. Smyth called. Seeing that attention was now diverted to her, (which she most enjoyed) she pulled Buffy away and made both of their excuses.
“Elizabeth, I thought perhaps you would like to meet some of the other young ladies here this afternoon” and adding in a faux whisper “as well as get away from those men. They are not for the likes of you.” Thus, they left for the ladies’ table, not noticing, or caring, for the men’s sputtering at the implied insult.
Approaching a table where three women sat, Mrs. Smyth introduced them as “Miss Harriet Addams, Miss Virginia Fleming, and Miss Cecily Underwood. After cordial responses from all, the women continued their previous conversations, as though Buffy had not joined the table.
Gaining enough courage, the blonde asked her question during a considerably brief break in conversation. “Pardon me for interrupting, but do any of you know a Mr. William Pratt?”
Dead silence.
“A Mr. William Pratt you say,” Cecily fluttered wickedly. Buffy didn’t like her one bit and she had the oddest sensation of recognition. Also, she was fairly certain that woman was practically the only human to set off her slayer tingles.
“Yes, Mr. Pratt. Do you know him…of him?” She inquired, unable to keep the hope from rising in her voice.
“Well, yes. I just so happens that I do.” Cecily replied, in a tone of voice, that the Slayer could not place. It was highly reminiscent of Cordelia, but even Cordelia in Queen Bitch mode never reached that depth. “In fact, I am holding a little get together tonight in my home. William will be attending. You should join us,” Cecily continued with a saccharine smile.
“Um, uh, sure. I mean…I would love to. May I have your address?” He’s alive! He’s alive!
“Oh dear, I thought you knew?”
“Knew what?”
“I am an Underwood darling. Everyone knows where I live. Do not fret. Ask anyone, and they will be able to direct you.”
“Oh, I was not aware of your status. Forgive me.” God, rude much? In addition, I totally hate having to suck up to her. I have to leave before I ring her neck. And avoid her as much as humanly possible tonight.
“Very well. I will be seeing you,” Cecily stated, promptly turning back to her friends. The petite
blonde’s presence no longer interesting, nor worthwhile. After all, she was an Underwood, she could choose who she spoke with and when. Making her excuses to deaf ears, Buffy left the table, in search of Rawlings, and a way home, never noticing the speculative glance that Cecily threw to the gazebo across the way. Cecily would not have the plans she set in motion ruined.
Therefore, Buffy left the tea, never realizing that the man occupying her thoughts sat just across the way. Head bent down over paper, lost in his own world of rhyme and imagination; hoping that he too could capture the heart of the girl.
Dressing for the evening affair turned out to be far more effort than one could possibly imagine. Throughout the entire process, Buffy kept thinking that she was glad to be born in the future. While she loved all of the attention and pampering, there was no way that she could deal with all of these clothes, especially in summer. Slaying was also definitely out.
However, clothing was a small price to pay for meeting William. She’d nearly cried for joy when Cecily said that William would attend that night. Fears and doubts kept plaguing the Slayer that she would be far too late. Her heart would not be able to stand an evil William, just coming into his power and mooning over Drusilla. Spike always said that the Initiative’s chip was a catalyst for his transformation, a reason for him to stop and think about the direction of his un-life. Granted, love for her was the final push, but in this time period, he didn’t know her, didn’t have a chip, and would probably kill her. While he might be a fledgling, he was still strong, smart, and enjoying the power he was just coming into. Also, the little blonde powerhouse wouldn’t be actually attempting to kill him – she kinda needed him to live for the next century or so.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes Bridget?”
“I am all done wit’ your hair, Miss. T’will ‘here be anyt’ing else?”
“No, I believe that I am as ready as I shall ever be. God I hope he likes me.”
“Who, Miss? Did you find a lad to fancy at the tea today?”
“Sort of...”
“Ooh, who is it Miss? A wealthy man?”
“I do not really know Bridget. Can you keep a secret? Not tell any of the other maids?”
“Oh of course. Not tell a soul, I will” Bridget replied eagerly. She loved secrets and desperately
wanted to know what man brought a blush to Miss Elizabeth’s cheeks.
“Mr. William Pratt!”
“Mr. Pratt, Miss? The fellow we were talking about in the morn?” she said with a furrowed brow.
“Yes. Why do you look at me like that?” Great now what have I done wrong. I’ll never fit in here. Hopefully William likes quirky in a girl.
“I look no way Miss. I just…”
“Yes?”
“When we were talking about ‘im in the morn, I t’ought it was just conversation, not knowing you were in love wit’ ‘em!”
“In love! Who ever said that I was in love with him?” What’s the big deal. So I’m in love. Happens every day.
“Your eyes Miss. The eyes be not the lying type. But you cannot love this one.”
“Why?”
“Because…because he just isn’t fit for a lady like yourself….he’s…”
“He’s what?!” the girl added with a scowl, letting just enough of the Slayer sparkle in her eyes, letting the maid know that she was treading on extremely dangerous ground.
“I believe I am stepping over my boundaries Miss. I will be leaving you alone. You will see about Master William soon enough. Good evening Miss” and with that she left the room, without having been excused.
“Well, of all the…” Buffy said, trailing off, realizing that something must be going on. No one
seemed to recall William, yet he was going to be attending a party given by ‘an Underwood’ so he must be in the right circles. I shall simply have to see what is going on tonight.
Well it would appear that everyone indeed knew where the Underwood residence was. Buffy’s driver had no difficulty in finding it. Stepping out of the carriage, Buffy sucked in a breath at the magnificence of their home. It was lit up beautifully and certainly did seem like a party was going on. Though, she would hardly classify it as a ‘little get together.’ Buffy couldn’t even begin to imagine what a real party would look like in this house. Gathering courage, Buffy entered the home and proceeded into the parlor, where men and women of all ages, shapes, and sizes were sitting and standing about, discussing everything form politics to the weather.
After a few, necessary introductions and barely sidestepping Cecily (to hell with what needed to be done in proper society), Buffy began to both relax, due to the ambience of the place, and tense up with the thought of seeing William. At first, he seemed to be nowhere in sight, and as she felt the continuous pressure on heart grow increasingly heavy, all of a sudden, just like the movies, the crowd parted, uplifting music played in her mind’s eye, and there he was.
As Buffy looked across the room, her breath caught in her throat as she laid eyes on the man of her dreams for the first time in months, or years, depending on how one wanted to define her current situation. He was seated in a quiet little corner of the parlor, by a small table, writing furiously on a scrape of paper. The only thing that Buffy could possibly say to describe his appearance: utterly adorable. He looked nothing like what she had imagined. He definitely didn’t fit the bad boy image that Spike had tried to convince her of that traumatic night at the Bronze, in which, even at the time, she was shocked and appalled at her callus treatment of him and his apparent budding feelings.
No matter how much of the man she saw hidden inside his gruff exterior when interacting with Drusilla, Dawn, her mother, and even herself, she never, ever in her entire existence thought that the root of that good man was the one that sat huddled in the corner and scribbling somewhat hurriedly on a scrap of paper.
Even though he was dressed oddly, his hair a riotous mass of curls (and the sideburns!), and those glasses, there was no mistaking the man that she had loved for years. His eyes, those miraculous shining orbs of blue that could tell you their life’s history by just one look, could never be replicated in another man. Their color was simply too perfect and so perfect for him that she would be able to identify him anywhere: even a century before they’d ever meet.
Buffy slowly made her way over to William – nervous, excited, and hoping that she would be able to speak to him without either crying or jumping all over him. While the former might have been more appropriate for a young woman to faint and cry at the drop of a hat (so she’d heard) the latter was definitely out of the question, especially since they’d never met.
Stopping just in front of the small table he was writing on, as she waited for him to take notice, her brow slowly wrinkled in confusion as he continued to ignore her presence. Clearing her throat slightly, she nearly gasped aloud as his eyes finally met hers, but then almost giggled as his rising blush slowly transformed his entire face into a swirling mass of color.
“Y-Y-Yes, may I help you miss?” William queried as he took in the sight of the golden goddess standing by his side, misbelieving that she was addressing him. She is absolutely…effulgent…
“I-ah-well-hi” Buffy said with a blush to rival William’s own. Gah! I didn’t think this would be so hard. She continued “I…uh…I saw you sitting here, by yourself, and wanted to take the time to introduce myself. I’m Bu-Elizabeth Sumner, I have been hearing a lot about you and have been wanting to introduce myself, but haven’t had the chance – which I guess you probably gathered since I’m introducing myself now. And now I’ll stop talking because I’m pretty sure that I’m babbling and I only babble when I’m nervous and I only start admitting things like that when I babble…so I’ll just be stopping now…” trailing off in a whisper, pursing her lips, and desperately hoping that William wouldn’t mind her run-on sentences like he wouldn’t in the future.
My God she’s magnificent. “Oh I-I did not presume to think you were b-babbling and it’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Sumner, I am William Pratt.”
“The pleasure is all mine Mr. Pratt.” *Pause* “Would it be too forward of me to sit beside you?” Please say yes, please say yes!
*Gulp* “O-Of course, Miss Sumner.” I wonder what it is that she wants…surely it cannot simply be my company. Perhaps she wishes to borrow a book, requires help broadening her educational horizons. Although, I think, I would help her with anything.
With the both of them sitting awkwardly on either side of the table, shooting furtive glances at one another, Buffy decided to open the conversation. Although she didn’t exactly know how to do that. She couldn’t exactly start out with ‘kill any good demons lately?’ or ‘how many kittens did Clem spot you last night?’ So she’d have to think about what she knew Spike – human Spike – liked.
“So, Mr. Pratt, read any good books lately? Maybe? I mean Spike’s like way old – the only entertainment he had was books, right? I mean, no television.
“Actually I just finished a compilation of poetry by…” seeing her look of befuddlement, William trailed off. Ah, of course, not really interested in my perspective…I wonder what it is that she wants?
“Poetry?” Who knew a sensitive poet was hiding beneath the layers? Then Buffy thought with derision, You probably would if you ever let him hold you after he made love to you. He probably would have whispered poetry in your ear instead of those dirty limericks. Or maybe both, it is Spike I’m thinking about.
“Yes, I l-love poetry. It is but a passion for me. It can carry one to the very heights of joy and the bottomless abyss of heartache…t-though perhaps I speak too boldly for such a first meeting?” William trailed off as his faded blush from earlier returned in full force.
“No, no, of course not. It is good to be passionate about something” she stopped, getting lost in his eyes. God, they are so blue. “…so blue.”
“Pardon me?” What is it that she is observing? Do I have a bit of pastry on my face? William thought as he discreetly tried to brush his hand over his mouth.
“Oh, I…ah…nothing” she responded with a blush. Did I say that out loud? He’s going to think I’m weird!
And we’re back to the awkward silence. Well, I brought up the last topic it’s his turn. But what if he doesn’t? What if he’s bored? What if I’m not smart enough for him? I mean, my God, he reads poetry in his spare time. I took the class, but didn’t do extra work for fun.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Buffy asked.
“I asked if you were an American.” That was rather blunt, old chap. Could you make her feel any more out of place? The poor lamb probably already feels that way. “I am most sorry, if that was too forward of me…I sometimes…”
“No, not too forward at all.” I can’t believe how soft spoken he is. Where’s the rash impulsiveness? Where’s the oozing charm? Gah, I love that little blush thing he does. Makes my stomach do little flips.
“Yes, I am American. Born and raised. Just visiting London for awhile. You?”
“No, I am not American…” trailing off in embarrassment, realizing that she meant for him to tell her where he was born, not questioning his nationality.
“No, I meant if you were born in London or out in the country perhaps” she answered with a soft smile and a twinkle in her eye.
“L-London, um…yes. Born and raised, as I believe someone very wise once said.” She is an angel when she smiles.
“Are you teasing me Mr. Pratt?” the clearly infatuated blonde asked in a mock stern voice.
“Oh, Miss please forgive me. I-I meant no disrespect. Only to pay a complement…,” Must think before you speak William!
“No, William” and seeing his look of shock “I mean Mr. Pratt, I uh, was teasing you as well. No need to get too informal too fast, I see. And also, what is up with the insecure bit? I mean, Spike was insecure, but that was only cuz I used to punch him the nose right? Right?
“Please also forgive my like total lack of manners; I really didn’t have permission to call you William.” And wouldn’t Mom be proud, can take the girl out of the valley, but can’t take the valley out of the girl. Hope he doesn’t mind.
“No, Miss Sumner, I would be most happy for you to call me William. I f-feel so very much at ease with you. As though I have known you for quite some time.”
“I feel that way as well...William.” And there’s that blush again! Got to make sure to do that at least once a day. “And you may call me Buffy.”
“Buffy?”
“Yeah, I know lame name?” and upon seeing his look, cursed herself for using such informal language. It was just so hard to remember that this was not her William, at least not yet. “I meant, such a silly name, but it was a pet name my mother made up when I was younger. But – I only let good friends call me that” she added with far more inflection than was probably allowed for the time of day – or perhaps even the century.
“Miss Sumner, I do not feel that I have such prerequisites as to address you by a clearly personal name. Though I beg you please do continue to refer to me as William.” I have so few close, personal friends who call me that, I should very much love for her to be one of them.
“Very well William. Though I trust in a very short time, you will feel comfortable enough to call me Buffy.” Leaning slightly closer to whisper breathily and if she weren’t mistaken, quite flirtatiously, “After all, from now on, I do plan on monopolizing all of your time.” Was that too much? God, I don’t want Spike to think that I’m a big ho!
“M-m-monopolizing?” William barely was able to squeeze out. No woman has ever looked at me quite like that. I don’t even know how to describe it.
“Yes, I have been trying to make friends with interesting people. And you are the only one to have made it on my list” she stated matter-of-factly.
William, lost in her eyes, barely registered the comment. Her eyes are so green. A man could bloody drown in them forever. Like sparkling gems they are.
Seeing William do that head tilt thing that Spike always did when he was lost in thought (not to mention the added hotness factor of his eyes peering over his spectacles), made Buffy’s heart pound, fingers tense, and lungs pant. While this reaction usually led them to a very adult version of whom could pin whom on the ground first, this time, Buffy let it wash over her and she got just as lost in his eyes as he was in hers.
Unfortunately, Cecily was also privy to their little moment of discovery and almost saw red. There was no way that star-struck girl from the party was getting in the way of her plans. She’d been working at this for months. When William had originally started to express feelings for her (not verbally of course, he was too shy for that) she had dismissed him as someone not worth her time – not even to toy with. But, his puppy-dog expressions didn’t move on like she thought they would. Instead, his affection for her seemed to grow and, dare she even think it, turn into love. That simply would not do. Yes, Cecily Underwood was used to being loved and adored by men, but her good name would not be tarnished by the affections from one William the Bloody. Signaling to her friend, John, she awaited the disaster.
William, having realized that he had been staring into Miss Sumner’s eyes for the better part of the last five minutes, blinked, coughed, and averted his eyes, thus startling Buffy out of her thoughts as well. Searching for a way to distract herself from her mindless drooling, she spied a folded piece of paper in William’s lap.
“Oh, you were writing something before I disturbed you. Hopefully I have not made you lose your train of thought?”
“It is…uh…nothing.” He said quickly as he attempted to shove it into his pocket, only to be thwarted by John…something…he never could remember that chap’s name.
“Ah, Pratt old man, how have you been? Writing more poetry I see.” John stated arrogantly as he looked over the composition.
“Careful” William said forcefully, and then backtracked upon seeing the condescending look in John’s eyes. “The inks are still wet. Please, it’s not finished.”
By this time, a crowd had formed about them and John began to recite William’s poem.
“My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,
midnight descends in raven-colored clothes,
but soft...behold!
A sunlight beam
cutting a swath of glimmering gleam.
My heart expands,
'tis grown a bulge in it,
inspired by your beauty...
effulgent.”
“Effulgent” John said chuckling as he watched William sulk off the other direction. “And that’s actually one of his better compositions.”
“Have you heard? They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry” one woman piped up.
Amidst the laughter and derision, William made it over to Cecily’s side. All thoughts of a certain blonde angel having left his thoughts in light of the utter humiliation he’d just experienced before the woman who had unknowing owned his heart for many years. Reaching her, he beseeched, “Cecily?”
“Oh. Leave me alone.” Cecily stated, though in all reality she just needed enough to lure him in.
Not to be deterred, William tried to regain the dignity he’d lost at others’ expense “Oh, they’re vulgarians. They’re not like you and I.” Forcing a smile the entire time.
“You and I? I’m going to ask you a very personal question and I demand an honest answer.” Let’s see if I can’t add a little more humiliation to this unfathomable man.
Seeing William nod in acquiesce, Cecily continued “Your poetry, it’s…they’re…not about me, are they?”
“They’re about how I feel” William answered cautiously, knowing that this was the defining moment. The moment when Cecily was sure to tell him of her reciprocal feelings.
“Yes, but are they about me?” Oh, get on with it, I cannot wait for your responses all night!
“Every syllable.”
“Oh God!” Could he be more pathetic?
“Oh, I know…it’s sudden and…please, if they’re no good, they’re only words, but…the feeling behind them…I love you, Cecily.” She’ll tell me now. I know she’ll tell me now!
“Please stop!” A little more distress, and then I’ll be ready to add insult to injury.
“I know I’m a bad poet, but I’m a good man and all I ask is that...that you try to see me-”
Perfect! “I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me.” Cecily said, and flounced off without a care in the world. She’d effectively ended his ridiculous crush, made it public, and had herself a real good day. While others in the room were too polite to notice the unquestionable meaning behind her smile, Buffy knew that look. Having finally been able to place Cecily as Halfrek, Buffy could only hope that Cecily was already a demon, so that she could beat the crap out of her. But, until then, she would offer whatever support she could. She only prayed that some sort of guidance descended down upon her from her mother, because, quite frankly, she sucked at touchy-feely stuff.
“William?” she quietly queried as he reached for the door, his shoulders hunched, eyes dejected. Unfortunately, it was a look that she was more than familiar with. Are those tears in his eyes. “That Bitch!” she said with vehemence, realizing too late that she’d said it aloud.
Looking up with a blush at William, fearful that she’d see disgust on his face due to a woman using such low-class language, she was delightfully surprised to see a hint of warm humor hiding in those blue depths. “Um, do you want to go outside? Get away from these people?”
Sensing that her comment caused the sadness to return, she nearly kicked herself. William was clearly about to decline, so, thinking fast, she spewed out “Would you be so kind as to walk a girl a home?” throwing as much flirtation as possible into her voice. Knowing from this brief meeting and years of the vampire version, that he could never resist escorting a lady. Besides, maybe she could coax him into a better mood.
“I would be honored Miss Sumner, though I fear I would not be the best companion, surely someone else is available? Where is your driver?”
“Please William. It is getting dark and…paging Scarlet O’Hara, isle 4 I’d feel much safer with you” with a bat of her eyelashes. Buffy knew she was playing dirty. But bullying him into doing something he didn’t want to do would piss him off and then, hopefully, her company would cheer him up again. Besides, that was the only way she knew how to get him out of a bad mood…well, except for sex…but that clearly wasn’t an option right now.
“As you wish, Miss Sumner.” Perhaps I’ve already drowned. William thought. His heart lighter than he believed it should be after having been trampled by the woman he’d loved for years; dreamt of as the mother of his children. And yet, this little wisp of thing was making it all better somehow. Like I thought earlier…effulgent.