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William ruthlessly rid his house of Drusilla's possessions, a certain amount of ferocious glee building up in him as he carelessly filled garbage bag after garbage bag with her things. There was a heavy pile of them on the back porch; looking at the detritus of their life together slumped in those black lumps gave him a queer feeling. He was done with her, done with the sham the past few years had been, and he'd never felt better.

Then he was suddenly tired, drained and incapable of sorting through anymore of their admixed belongings. He stretched backwards, fists pressing hard into his lower back, knots and kinks popping as he moved. His stomach rumbled and he realized he didn't recall the last meal he'd eaten. He knew already, from his whirlwind excavation of the kitchen, that there was little edible in the house. However, there was an unassuming diner around the corner. Dru had always turned up her nose when he suggested they walk to the neighborhood eatery, and so he had never been. She's gone, he thought suddenly, I can do what I want. It was a good thought.

He locked the door behind him and strode off through the lengthening shadows. The diner was middling busy and he took a seat at a small table near the window.

That was when he saw her. She looked tired and pale, diminished somehow from that golden goddess he had first beheld. Her hair was scraped back into a messy ponytail, and her face was free of makeup. There were dark circles beneath her eyes. Her cheap polyester uniform only served to exacerbate the sense of weariness she exuded. She was frowning and distracted as she approached his table. Not until she was standing next to him, pen scratching absently at her order pad, did she glance up.

Her eyes widened slightly, although she gave no other indication of recognizing him. "What can I get for you?" she asked in a bored voice.

William narrowed his eyes and leaned forward on his elbows. "Buffy," he read off her nametag. He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at her. "Not Anne?"

She had the grace to blush. In the next instant, though, there was a flare of ire in her eyes. "Oh, please. 'That's me mum's name," she mocked with a horrible impersonation of his accent. "If that's not a line, I don't know what is. And here's a tip: don't talk about your mother when you're trying to get a girl in bed with you."

William kept her fixed in his gaze. "I may be a lot of things, Buffy, but I'm not a liar," he said coldly. "And I certainly didn't need to use any lines on you, now did I? Would have been hard pressed to keep you out of my bed, if you'll recall. Maybe should have brought my grandmum into the conversation, too."

Buffy compressed her lips into a thin line. She turned on her heel and stormed away, stopping briefly at the counter to have a quiet conversation with another waitress. The two women glanced in his direction, and William growled as he pushed back from the table. He strode out of the restaurant without a backward glance and stormed down the street. He turned into the first bar he spotted and settled for a dinner of cheap beer and stale pretzels.

***

Two hours later, William was heading, somewhat unsteadily, home. As he neared the diner, he spotted Buffy's slender form exiting the front door. She had changed from her waitress uniform to a pair of loosely fitted dark jeans and a plain gray t-shirt. Her hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders. She looked very young and vulnerable in the dim light of the entrance alcove.

"Hello, cutie," he slurred, stopping behind her as she locked the diner door.

Buffy jumped at his words, then fixed him with a cold-eyed glare. "What do you want?" she sneered.

"Wanna apologize," he mumbled. He leaned against the diner's front window and trained his gaze on a spot between their feet. "Was rude to you before. 'm sorry, pet." He looked up at her with his saddest kicked-puppy look and gave her a shrug. He hoped it was endearing.

Buffy stared at him for a moment before letting out a low laugh. "You think you're pretty cute, don't you?" she teased him.

"Maybe a little," he responded. He smiled at her and straightened up. "Does that mean I'm forgiven then?"

“Hmm…” Buffy pondered. Her lips quivered. “I suppose it does, William.”

William stilled, his eyes serious and locked on hers. “Buffy,” he said. He cocked his head and held a hand out to her. “Will you take a walk with me?”

Her right hand twitched by her side, but for a long moment she still hesitated. Then she reached forward, took his hand in hers and smiled full force at him. He swore her smile physically warmed him; his pulse vibrated in his throat.

***

“’M curious, pet, what was going on with you the night we met?”

They were seated on a scarred wooden picnic table beneath a cobwebbed pavilion at a small park. A slide and swing set stood opposite them, and a merry-go-round completed the park’s play area. Buffy had been very chipper during their brief walk to this park. Now she had quieted and William could see her slip into a somber mood. She shot him a quick glance from the corner of her eye, then refocused her attention on her hands, tightly clasped between her knees.

She opened, then closed her mouth and shrugged her shoulders. “I think… I wanted to,” she started. She shook her head, frustrated. Her golden locks tumbled around her face. “Okay! So, I have this cousin, Faith, she’s a couple years older than me.” The frown fell from her face as she began to speak more confidently. “I’d see her in the summers, when we’d go visit my mom’s sister in Iowa. Faith was always so, so grown-up and, god, just crazy and wild sometimes. She always had so much fun, you know? And especially the past couple years, every time we get together, she’s got these ideas and plans for us, and she keeps telling me to lighten up. But I never could. So for once I wanted to be someone else, someone who would just… who would pick up a stranger in a bar and, and… and do what we did,” here she started blushing, “and not even think about it. Do you understand?” She turned big eyes on him.

William laughed ruefully. “Kitten, ‘ve spent the past five years trying to be someone else. Think I almost was for awhile there.”

Buffy let out a deep breath. It turned into a chuckle. “My turn,” she announced cheerily. “What was your deal that night, William? All broody and mopey at the bar. And not at a good bar, either, I might point out.”

He laughed at her tone. “Oi, I was not brooding! I was thinking."

"Broodily," Buffy teased.

"Well, I'd just found out the love of my life was a cheating whore, hadn't I?" William shot back. "If that doesn't justify a little brooding, I don't know what does."

"Oh, William," Buffy breathed. The sympathy in her voice was so real and immediate that William felt a sob build up in his throat.

He jumped off the picnic table to hide the sudden rush of emotion. He searched his pockets for his smokes and took his time pulling a cigarette out of the pack and lighting it. Once he was sure he had control over his expression, he turned back to Buffy. "Yeah, came home that afternoon to find her with another man. So going out and getting sloshed seemed to be the thing to do. Then you happened along, and that seemed the thing to do, as well." He almost kicked himself for the coldness in his tone, and the crudeness of his words.

Buffy pulled herself up stiffly, all sympathy gone from her face. She practically launched herself off the table and away from William. He caught her by the shoulders as she stalked away from him.

He pulled her against him and wrapped one arm around her waist. She was rigid in his embrace. "Please don't go," he whispered into her hair. "Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm a bad man, Buffy, bad and rude, but I'm sorry."

Buffy turned in his arms and pushed with all her might against his chest. "You can't just keep insulting me and think you can get out of it with a little apology!" she yelled at him. Her eyes blazed fiercely and she pushed him again. "No wonder your girlfriend cheated on you, if that's how you treat women."

William grabbed Buffy's wrists as she moved to push him one more time. He wanted to explain how he'd treated Dru, how she'd been his princess, his world, his everything. But as he gazed down at Buffy's angry eyes and heaving chest, his mind went blank. All he could think of was how she had looked standing naked in front of him, bold and bashful all at the same time. Desire raged through him, and he bent to claim her lips with his own.

She fought him for a second, then a moan escaped her lips and she melted into him. For an interminable time, they pressed against one another, mouths and tongues battling, hands reaching beneath clothes for contact with warm skin. Then William drew back and brushed her soft hair back from her face.

"What you do to me," he said in a wondering tone. She fixed her eyes on his, unblinkingly, and grasped his hand as it stroked her cheek.

"Let's go somewhere," she whispered. "Your place?"

He blinked once, twice, then let a slow smile crawl across his face. "Absolutely." He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her along behind him toward his house.





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