“Well, I did tell you that I planned to monopolize all of your time,” was the first thing the Buffy quipped upon seeing William the next morning.
She giggled as his startled surprise turned into open admiration and finally settled on the blush that Buffy termed the most magical thing she’d ever seen, which given her profession, she’d seen a lot of witch-y work take place. Her eyes twinkled in remembrance of his earlier admiration. The green dress she’d purposely selected made her eyes more intense and, with any luck, would draw William even further in.
Although, Buffy had to admit that William wasn’t the only one being drawn in. Even though she’d fallen hard for the all-black, leather clad, cigarette smoking, and more-often-than-not pain in her ass, there were definite crushable qualities present in William that would make any girl swoon. She hadn’t a clue why he hadn’t been snatched up already
Coming out of his stupor, William, realizing that he’d once again been staring, blushed harder, briefly glanced at his feet, cleared his throat, and then, barely being able to make out the proper salutations, stammered “G-good day, M-Miss Sumner. I trust your journey to my home was pleasant?”
“Yes, it was quite the pleasant journey. Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you, Miss Sumner. However, I personally take no credit for it. The design falls truly to my mother,” he trailed off, thinking fondly of his mum and trying to keep the concern for her current health out of his mind. She’d started to feel so fatigued lately and while he’d attempted to gain her consent to call upon the doctor, his persuasive abilities had yet to make an impression.
“Y-your mother?” the slayer questioned awkwardly. God, I didn’t even think about Spike’s mother being alive. Well, I guess I don’t really know when she died…but, God, I have to deal with impressing ‘the Mom’ too? Oh, suck it up; it’s the least that you could do for him.
“Yes, I live here with Mother.” Does she think it odd? Where are her parents?
“Of course you do. I…uh…rude much, Buffy?” Now, she was more self-conscious than ever and utilizing her own brand of English.
“I took no offense, nor meant to imply that…” William pleaded, looking more forlorn at even the possibility of having slighted her in some fashion or made her to feel as though she of all people had offended him!
“No! You didn’t. I just…well, I guess I was just so excited – I mean pleased – with the possibility of seeing you again, that I did not think about your home situation.” *Pregnant Pause* “I hope it’s cool that I dropped by to see you like this…all, unannounced like.”
“Cool? Are you chilled? I can have tea prepared.”
“No, I just meant fine. You know? Fine and everything?”
“Fine. Yes, yes, most certainly. I would not have had it any other way.” You ponce! Could you sound any more like a complete ignoramus? “Would you care to sit down, Miss Sumner?”
“I would love to, but only if you call me Elizabeth,” the blonde replied.
Buffy then proceeded to startle William twice. Once, by joining him on the sofa, sitting closer than was proper and second, by insisting he use her given name.
Breaking the awkward silence, William inquired whether she wanted any tea, without reference to her temperature, and, at her decline, they slumped back into silence. Both were unsure exactly how to strike up a conversation.
William was quite flummoxed as to why this beautiful woman was sitting in his home. The previous evening he had assumed that she simply pitied him, first with his obvious separation from the group and second due to his abysmal humiliation at the hands, and apparently feet, William thought miserably, of the woman he had loved for years.
Yet, the gorgeous green-eyed girl was sitting in his parlor, looking for all the world like she was doing more than simply keeping a promise made the night before, but was actually enjoying his company. William simply could not fathom the young lady’s motivations. Miss Elizabeth did not seem to have any sort of cruelty within her, so he did not think that she merely called on him to mock him in the undefined future, but what could she want?
“Miss Elizabeth?” William managed without a stutter.
“Yes?” Finally! Conversation! I was on the verge of asking him about the weather or jumping his bones.
“What is it that you want from me?” Bloody hell! What a foul nave you are, asking a lady such a question and in such a brusque manner. “M-Miss Elizabeth, please forgive me for my brutal questioning, it is only that…well, what I mean to say is that, people – that is women – don’t, well…” he trailed off as he witnessed Buffy’s bemused rather than malicious look; as well as for the fact that she’d place her hand on his leg. Right. On. His. Leg.
“William? I may still call you William, correct?”
A singe nod.
“Good. Well, William there is in fact something that I want from you. And from you specifically.” Am I coming on too strong? Our relationship was so much easier when we knew what to expect from each other. First, it was you hate me; I hate you, now we fight to the death. Then, it was the whole you love me, I’m totally unsure about you, I’m now bopping you in the nose. God, have we ever just talked? Buffy thought heatedly.
“W-w-what is that, Miss?” Good lord, her hand burns me like fire.
“You.” That ought to stir up his imagination…or other parts of him.
“Madame, I certainly do not…” he began somewhat haughtily only to trail off once again as she gave him a gentle squeeze (though he could not hide his increased breath).
“Your company, William; that is what I want from you. Your company, conversation, thoughts. I really rather hope that you and I will become friends,” she said with the utmost sincerity.
Seeing that William was utterly uncomfortable with the situation, the young girl backed off and tried a different approach; the whole time wondering how – even though she found William perfect – wondering how, her bleached-blonde pain-in-the-ass lover resulted from this man. Spike would have made some crude comment about Buffy’s behavior, but William just seemed befuddled about what to do with her and perhaps, even what she was doing. Buffy could not reconcile the two, yet same, man.
In all of my years, I have never received such a look, or such an invitation. How in Heaven’s name could I possibly hope to accept such a friendship? Especially when I feel that I am beginning to desire so much more? William thought nervously, desperately wishing that he could take Elizabeth up on her offer, but unsure as to how to do so with some amount of courage and dignity as she had just displayed by putting her own heart on the line for him, in asking for friendship.
“I offer myself most humbly to you, in the same regard. I would be delighted to start a friendship with you,” William added, cheekbones aflame with embarrassment and wonder. However, he was calmed upon seeing the pure joy and happiness that radiated off Buffy with his response. Never before had he felt such a rush of excitement, the hope that finally, someone, outside of his mother, understood him, connected with him. He could not wait for their friendship to begin.
Buffy, on the other hand, was more nervous than she had ever been in her entire life. She had already failed this man once, more than once if she were perfectly truthful with herself. How would she stop from doing the exact same things to him again?
The two, soon realizing that they had once again fallen into the trap of gazing into one another’s eyes blushed and looked away, and William, surprisingly, spoke first.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“Yes, William?”
“I…um, I-I must confess that our relationship, as it were, has come about by most unconventional means. Not that I have much experience in the formation of such relationships as you have so proposed, but I, what I mean to say, is that…well…”
“William, breathe,” Buffy gently reminded him. “You can tell me anything. You don’t have to be all proper and stuff with me. Friends, remember? Just tell me,” she offered with a warm smile that did odd things to William’s erm…stomach.
“You are too kind Miss Elizabeth. I know that I am not the type of person that one ordinarily seeks for company and –”
“Willia –”
“No, Miss Elizabeth, you please must let me finish.” Seeing her nod, continued. “As I was saying, my peers do not seek me out for social intercourse, nor do they offer me such a glorious olive branch as you have most kindly done. I only bring this up to tell you that I AM truly most honored and will do my utmost to keep your seeming affections of this moment continuous. Also, that you have my deepest gratitude. Miss Elizabeth…”
Buffy could no longer continue to hear the words pouring out of William. She’d had a vague understanding that life was not perfect for Spike before he was turned, but this outpouring of emotion, the sheer fact that William was grateful for even a passing glance of kindness from another human being was make her violently ill. It was in these few moments that Buffy learned an integral part of what made Spike tick. Why they could spend hours fucking each other raw, have the most heated of kisses, and yet, it was the gentle touch of her hand on his shoulder during patrol to make sure he wasn’t hurt that sent a torrent of emotion and awe into his eyes. Why it was that holding him that night in the abandoned house meant more to him than anything. She’d assumed at the time it was rooted in the fact that she’d never allowed him to do that before, and while she was sure that had a great deal to do with it, it was also due to the fact that no one probably held him like that in his life.
She couldn’t really imagine Drusilla doing the cuddle routine – or at least being the one to cuddle someone else. This man, this remarkable man, had spent the last hundred and fifty odd years of both his life and un-life without really knowing compassion. Yet he had so much of it to give.
Finally zoning back in to what William was saying and seeing that he was still trying to express his gratitude for her kindness, she found it somewhat rewarding to finally have discovered a way to stop him from speaking – though she sincerely doubted it would work on her irksome vampire. William, on the other hand, seemed to be torn between being embarrassed and being affronted at the finger she softly pressed against his lips. While the young woman was certain that her actions would have led to a delectable blush, Buffy prevented this occurrence by saying his name very softly.
“William? Stop. There’s no need for you to do this. If anything, it should ME who ought to be so grateful that you would accept my friendship. And,” she increased her volume and tone to keep his contradiction at bay, “we needn’t speak any more about it. Realizing that Spike’s penchant for talking too much did not come from his demon, Buffy quickly changed the subject before he could speak.
“So, friend,” she started, green eyes twinkling at his knowing look, “what ever are we to do with our time today?” with a double bat of her eyelashes.
“Well, Miss Elizabeth, I was going to go through the family’s finances,” he trailed off with a warm laugh at her look of horror, “but I feel that would not suit such a vibrant creature as you.”
Buffy sat there in shock. Wondering how it was possible that William could switch from a bumbling man, tripping over his own metaphorical feet and, in the next second, flirt with her with such absolute abound. Did he even realize what he was doing? Because if he did – then seeing the charm that Spike so readily displayed really could be attributed to the not so different man sitting beside her. Well, she’d have to ascertain just how much of a flirt he really was.
“William, since it is quite clear that you are once again teasing me, perhaps I should spend my time elsewhere,” Buffy said with a simmering glare, waiting to see if he would take the bait.
While Buffy may have been merely surprised at William’s gentle teasing, William himself was nearly appalled at his bold behavior. He had never spoken to a woman this way – anyone this way. With such freedom of phrase, without worry of being mocked. If William was the sort to believe in destiny (which he entirely was) he’d think fate had led this gorgeous, intelligent person into his midst. Once again, if he believed in such illogical conclusions, he would say fate pushed him to attend the Underwood party despite his reservations – if only to meet a one Miss Elizabeth Sumner, from America, born and raised.
Once her words sunk into his fogged brain, he nearly stammered out an apology for his rash and impulsive teasing, only to catch the glimmer in her eye at the last moment, prompting a much different response.
“You are free to quit my company at any point and time Miss Elizabeth, but then I fear I shall simply have to find myself a new acquaintance.” He completed his statement almost entirely without a blush or softening of his voice, though he was still unsure as to how to speak so freely with someone he’d only just met, yet felt entirely comfortable with. Quite frankly, it was an odd occurrence for him.
Definitely seeing the William in Spike, Buffy thought before responding to his tease. “Then I suppose I shall simply have to stay and bear the bored-ness that is family finances,” she said, hoping that throwing in her own brand of English would not be off-putting to the proper gentleman.
“As agreeable as you are being about sitting around the house while I attend to the numbers, I was hoping that a picnic would be more to you liking?” Please say yes. Dear God, don’t let me have gone too far with that infernal teasing.
“A picnic? Really? That would be amazing – I mean – if it wouldn’t be too much trouble or keep you from your work?” she finished off with a nibble on her bottom lip, not noticing that this action pulled her flustered companion’s attention directly to that portion of her anatomy. God, kid much? I hope I didn’t sound twelve…all excited about a picnic.
Despite William’s increasing difficulty in concentration, he couldn’t help but be delighted in how adorable the young woman was as she tried to mask her near child-like delight at the thought of a picnic with proper sentiments of courtesy.
“It would be no trouble at all, in fact, I think a picnic is just what the day had in mind” the bashfully curly haired man replied with a rich note in his voice.
If Willow’s “it’s just a matter of balancing the elements” idea for beach picnicking was the modern-day equivalent of a good time, then the activity had certainly gone down hill since the nineteenth century. William’s idea, on the other hand, was marvelous. Though the spirited warrior was surprised to think that Spike was well enough off during his human youth to have a cook – she couldn’t say that she had a problem with it.
The amount of food packed was the most she’d ever seen at a picnic, or perhaps her entire life. There was no way that any two people could eat this much. Nevertheless, she’d certainly try. Especially since William seemed pleased that she liked the food and hadn’t even thought of doing the dainty-girl thing of picking at it.
Whilst Miss Elizabeth enjoyed the healthy spread before her, William leaned somewhat awkwardly against a tree, feeling as though the slate-grey sky was a reflection of his troubled thoughts. He couldn’t reconcile his rampant emotions. William had no idea what it was that he was doing, yet every time Miss Elizabeth spoke he knew exactly how to react; knew whether to tease or whether to be serious or to use that affable charm his mother always insisted, unconvincingly, that he possessed. She was a mystery to him – and even more so, making a mystery out of him.
Sensing William’s growing agitation with the prolonged silence, as well as his unease at opening the lines of communication, Buffy lightheartedly queried, “So, William, since you have so graciously accepted my offer of friendship, I suppose I’ll have to start getting to know you. All those deep dark secrets,” she said while wagging her eyebrows and biting into her apple. “We should totally play twenty questions,” she excitedly announced, hoping that she could both entice him to play the game and slowly bring in her more modern English, because quite frankly, she couldn’t spend one more second trying to sound like Giles and the Council’s cronies – it gave her the wiggins.
“I am afraid, Miss Elizabeth, that I do not know how to play ‘twenty questions.’” Please do not let her think me odd for not knowing a child’s game.
“Oh, it’s not really a game William…just, you take turns asking twenty questions with somebody, you know, to find things out quickly,” she ended with a shrug, then realizing she left out the most important thing, added rather rambunctiously, “Oh, I almost forgot…you have to tell the truth.”
“Oh…um…I-I supposed w-we could d-do that,” William said as he rearranged his napkin. While he did feel comfortable with her, sharing, truthfully, with her an untold amount of secrets, was a bit more than he was prepared to go through on their first outing. Friends or not.
“Great! I’ll start. Okay…um…what’s your favorite color?” Buffy asked seriously, trying to start with simple questions so as not to make William any more edgy than he was already.
“M-my favorite color? Oh well, I-I’ve always been particularly fond of, well, red.” My favorite color? Perhaps this ‘twenty questions’ shall not be so arduous. Of course, I should do anything to insure her continued interest in our friendship.
“Red, huh?” And I always figured he liked red cuz it reminded him of blood.
“Yes. Red is the color of courage, of passion. When something is red, you notice it. It is not a shade easily ignored.”
“Interesting, I never really thought about red quite like that before.” After an odd silence, she said, “It’s your turn William,” she added wondering what type of questions the timid poet would ask of her.
“Well then Miss Elizabeth, I should think that a return of the same question would be in order,” William rejoined, hoping that the level of questioning would not exceed such parameters.
Well, I think I can have some fun with this. “I suppose I would have to say that my favorite color is…blue,” Buffy stated, staring into William’s eyes, making sure that he had no doubt as to her meaning.
“I-I…uh, yes, I mean, yes blue is a perfectly lovely color, the color of…of the sky. I imagine,” William stammered out, unsure as to what she was alluding to with her tone. Why is she looking at me like that?
“The sky, yes. But I’ve personally always thought of blue as so much more than that. I mean, it can have such a range of meanings ya’ know? No offense to red, I like it a lot, but light red is pink and dark red is burgundy, but blue…blue keeps its name. Light blue, dark blue; you can have the darkest of troubled seas or the lightest blue fairy light in the early morning. It’s an incredible color – especially when it’s the color of someone’s eyes. Don’t ya’ think?” Buffy ended mischievously.
“Er-yes – I mean – no. I mean – I wouldn’t presume to agree with such a statement.” Especially when green is a much more alluring color. William ducked in response to her question and his own internal monologue. Unsure if she really meant to pay him a complement or if she was tormenting him in some fashion. Surely, she could not fancy his eyes that much?
Seeing that she’d clearly gone one-step too far with the teasing, Buffy decided to back off and tried to think of a question that would ease him back into the game and into the quiet camaraderie that they had been sharing only moments before. Not knowing how to get it started again without any more awkward moments, she decided to just take the bull by the horns and launched into the next round of questions.
“So, William, I believe I asked you last night, but I don’t think we every got around to your answer?”
“What question was that, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked rather wearily. As much as he had calmed down from the rush of her idea to play this game – truthfully – he was not quite prepared to return to a situation where she could quite possibly mock his responses. Besides, he still wasn’t terribly sure what she meant by her last comment.
“Read any good books lately?” she asked, hoping against hope that maybe he would forget about her overly-forward blunder and continue on with the delightful game they were playing while enjoying their picnic. “I believe last night you said that you were reading a compilation of poetry?”
“Y-yes poetry. Well, actually it was…um?”
“Yes?”
“Shakespeare. His sonnets. Have you read them?”
Buffy now found that it was her turn to stammer, not wanting to seem uneducated to William. “I-I um, well I’ve read some?” she haltingly admitted. “I always wanted to read the rest but slay…I mean, slav…ing away to my uncle’s wishes keeps me pretty busy. Since his wife died, it’s been up to me to keep the house running.”
“I’d be more than happy to lend you a copy of his sonnets,” William offered brightly.
“You would? That’s very sweet of you William, but I don’t think I’d find the time…maybe you would like to recite some for me instead?” She offered coquettishly. Spike would absolutely die *again* if he knew how much I always wanted him to recite poetry to me – that voice – but, of course, I never had the courage to ask.
“RR-recite? I-I sup-pose I could do that Miss Elizabeth.” Bloody hell William old boy, what have you gotten yourself into now? “What would you like to hear?”
“I’m sure that I would love anything that you should recite, Mr. Pratt,” she said with a flash of a brilliant smile.
Almost in a fog, he began to narrate:
“Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill’d with your most high deserts?
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If I would write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say, ‘This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne’er touch’d earthly faces.’
So should my papers, yellow’d with their age,
Be scron’d, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term’d a poet’s rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice, – in it and in my rime.”
Finishing with a rather audible gulp, William ventured a glance into Buffy’s eyes, as he had found the path of an ant amongst the grass far more interesting as he’d recited his poem. As he looked up, he was surprised to find Buffy’s eyes glazed with a dreamy quality that for once William believed might – just might – have been a result of something that he had done. Never in his life had he ever entertained the notion that a woman could be moved by his words, um, that is borrowed words – well they did share their Christian name, it should count for something. Just as William was about to query how she liked the poem, he was interrupted by her exuberance…
“Oh, William, that was beautiful. I mean, I always knew that Shakespeare was good…”
“Good?! I must say…he is a trifle bit more than g…,” he uttered in abject horror.
Having completely ignored his bumbling outrage, the young girl continued on, “But the way you just…and-and the way that you, with the voice, a-and the sounding. It was just…just – tell me another?” Hopeful green eyes begged him in want. And William could do nothing but comply, wanting to give her anything.
And everything.
“Full many a glorious morning have I seen…”