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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hi, Here’s the second part of the evening. I hope you enjoy, and feel free to share your thoughts on the matter. Thanks to Abby for the beta. Thanks to Minx Delovely for giving me her honest and valued opinion on things and to Edgehead for the cool banner

Buffy wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. She just finished watering the herbs after putting them in the planter, and they looked great. The water released their fragrances into the air and gave her a rush of nostalgia. Her mom always had an herb garden, and she would often send Buffy out to get some for whatever she was cooking. Buffy wished she could call her mother and talk to her now, but she knew that wouldn't be a good idea.

Buffy had no idea how she'd even begin to then explain entire situation. Her mother was so intuitive she would know Buffy's feelings by talking to her, but there was no way Buffy could talk about the market incident without it blemishing William's character. She didn't want to do that, especially since her mother had no prior experience with him. The same thing went for Fred, and she certainly didn't want to call and tattle to the Giles', so Buffy found she was alone in figuring out this situation.

After pulling off her gloves, she took a deep breath and turned to go inside to get to the bottom of things. When she opened the door, the stench of cigarette smoke hit her in the face, and she grimaced. Buffy saw William slumped on the sofa with his chin on his chest. She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes, wondering how he could be taking a nap when things were so up in the air. She closed the door a little harder than necessary, but he didn't stir.

Buffy decided it might be a good idea to put on some music before she went into the kitchen to get a drink. She selected Jawbreaker's 24 Hour Revenge Therapy. The first track, "The Boat Dreams From The Hill"came on, and she cranked it up, the driving drumbeat filling the room. Buffy smiled smugly and went into the kitchen. As she rounded the corner, she saw the almost empty bottle of Stoley's on the counter. Her stomach dropped somewhere in the vicinity of her knees, and her heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her chest.

Buffy screamed his name and ran.

He hadn't moved, and there was a large empty glass beside him. Buffy shook William with all her strength, shouting his name above the din of the music.

"William! William, wake up! Please!"

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and she thought she saw him try to open his eyes. She had the presence of mind to reach for the remote on the coffee table and turn off the stereo.

"William, can you hear me? You've got to wake up. You're scaring the hell out of me."

William lifted his head and it lolled against the back of the sofa, an unattractive trail of spittle ran down the right corner of his mouth to a damp patch on his shirt. Buffy climbed on the sofa beside him and raised herself on her knees, so she could see his face. She put her hand on his shoulder as if to steady him.

"Hey, William. I need you to answer me. If you don't, I'm calling 911."

He shifted his eyes toward her without moving his head and spoke, his speech so slurred she could barely understand him. "Now, why in Christ's name would you do that?"

Buffy drew in a deep breath and spoke slowly. "Because something is definitely wrong with you, and saying I'm a little worried is like saying it's a little chilly when it's seventeen degrees outside." She clenched and unclenched her fist in her lap.

His eyes were closed, and he closed them even tighter before he spoke. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Only had one sodding drink," he said.

Buffy understood the words "sorry" and "one drink," but that was as much as she could decipher. She'd remember someone saying vodka had no odor, but whoever said that clearly had no idea what he or she was talking about. When he spoke her olfactory system was assaulted by a sickly sweet stench.

"Do you feel sick? I would say you should sleep it off, but I want to look up the medications you're taking and see what they say about mixing them with boatloads of alcohol. You need to stay awake in the meantime." Buffy looked at him, waiting for an answer.

He licked his dry lips, and wrinkled his nose. "I'm fine. You don't need to bother about me," he said, still slurring his words.

Buffy ran her eyes over him warily. "I'm gonna get you a wastebasket just in case. Stay awake!"

She went to get the wastebasket from his bathroom and to see if she could find his medication, too. The three pill bottles were neatly lined up on the counter by the sink, and Buffy grabbed what she needed and went back to the living room. William was still in the same position, slouched down with his head lolled against the back of the sofa. His eyes were closed.

Buffy set the wastebasket on the floor and climbed on the sofa next to him, hovering over him on her knees. She touched his shoulder and squeezed it lightly. "William, are you in there?"

He turned his head toward her and squinted as if trying hard to see her face. "Piss off. I'm sure your workday's ended. If not, consider it a sodding holiday. You're not my bloody nursemaid or anything else for that matter."

He turned his head forward and brought his left hand up to shield his face.

Buffy wanted to shove him off the couch or punch him. She wasn't sure which, but she knew he was drunk, and drunks weren't the best people to listen to. Not that she'd had that much experience with them. Buffy had seen people drunk at parties before, and she'd been tipsy, but never drunk. This was completely new territory for her.

She spoke to him again and tried to remain calm. "Listen to me, jackass. I can't 'piss off,' as you say, because you've pulled this ridiculously stupid stunt. I could be getting ready to go dinner right now, but now I have to leave your drunken self on the couch to call the pharmacist and see if any of your drugs are dangerous when mixed with high amounts of alcohol. So why don't you just keep your mouth closed unless nice words can come out? If you throw up do it in this," she said, thrusting the wastebasket at him. "I draw the line at cleaning up your vomit."

She stood up and stomped out of the room with his medications in hand.

Bugger, bugger, bugger! You massive wanker! What have you done?

William's head felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton filling. He had to keep swallowing the overabundance of saliva in his mouth, as his mouth watered and his stomach roiled each time. He knew he was drunk, and he'd massively fucked up, but he was fuzzy on the details. William didn't really know why he'd lashed out at Buffy either. It seemed she was genuinely concerned about him and trying to help.

Then it all came flooding back with the force of a tidal wave. Jesus! Now, he had something else to apologize for. William couldn't believe what an enormous, fucking wanker he'd been. Buffy had every right to walk out of there and never speak to him again, but God, he hoped she'd give him a chance and let him apologize.

He could hear her in the kitchen slamming a cupboard door then the sound of water running and being turned off. Soon he heard her footsteps on the hardwoods. William felt her presence as she came around to face the couch, and he raised his head and opened his eyes.

Maybe, not such a good idea mate. Steady on. Don't want to honk in front of her.

Buffy came around and sat down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. Her lips were set in a thin line and her eyelids were puffy, he guessed from crying. She'd set a glass of water and some capsules down beside her. William noticed her gripping the edge of the table so tightly that her knuckles were white. His speech was less slurred and he felt a bit more coherent, but things were still a bit wonky.

"Look, it's obvious I owe you an unspeakably huge apology, for my behavior earlier as well as just a few minutes ago. I can't begin to tell you how em—"

Buffy cut him off, her eyes sparkling with anger and unshed tears.

"No, you don't get to talk now. You get to listen." She poked him in the chest for emphasis. "I just got off the phone with the pharmacist. You could have killed yourself tonight, you idiot! Why? Why would you do such a stupid thing? You have to go throw up, now! Go!" She pulled on his arm frantically.

"Give me second to get my bearings, and I think it can be easily arranged."

He leaned forward, head spinning, mouth watering like a dog staring at a T-bone. His stomach did a flip, but he managed to keep things down. He knew he could make it to his bathroom. He finally stood on wobbly legs and headed toward his room. Buffy followed close behind. He made it there just in time and closed the door.

She called to him from the doorway. "I'll be just outside. Call if you need anything. If you don't say something or come out in five minutes, I'm coming in. God knows I don't want to!"

William came out ten minutes later. He hadn't said anything, but he figured the sound of retching, the flush of the toilet, and the sound of water running in the sink let her know he was alive and conscious. He put his toothbrush in its holder and wiped his face, feeling more sober now and more than a little gobsmacked. How does one go about apologizing for almost killing themselves on someone else's watch? God, how could he have put her through that? He was such a selfish git.

He walked to the door, and she was standing there waiting for him. They walked back to the living room in silence, and he took a seat on the couch.

"I'm sorry. I know that doesn't excuse my behavior, but I didn't mean to do what I did. I should never have talked to you the way I did at the market, and instead of apologizing to you, I decided to have a really large drink."

Running a hand through his hair he said, "I honestly had no idea it would interact with my medications. I wasn't even thinking about that. I'm a gormless git. I wouldn't blame you if you were done with me. I'll be happy to give a glowing letter of recommendation."

William put his hands on his knees and looked at her to gauge her reaction.

Please, don't leave. Please, don't leave.

Buffy had resumed her seat on the coffee table and sat there taking him in. She was silent for so long, William was about to say something else then she spoke. Her tone was even and sure.

"I have no idea what a gormless git is, but I'm guessing you're a ginormous one." He laughed in spite of himself. "I honestly don't know if I can work for you if the is your standard way of dealing with things. You had no business talking to me the way you did or behaving the way you have today."

Buffy reached out and put her hand on top of his. He felt a jolt of pleasure at this very unexpected gesture, and she continued to talk.

"You shared some very personal things with me this morning. Then we made plans to do something later. You acted nervous, like it was a date. But you got scared and decided to sabotage the whole thing. Am I right?" Buffy pinned him with her gaze, forcing him to answer.

William was amazed how much she'd gotten right, how intuitive she actually was. He cleared his throat. "I'm amazed at your accuracy about some things, but you're wrong about others. Buffy, I won't lie. I'm very attracted to you, and I wanted it to be a date."

William put his other hand on top of hers, now sandwiching hers. "However, the more I thought about it, the more I thought you might not want that and might be going just, because I'm your employer and you felt you had to, so I tried to get out of it, not the best way for sure. I fucked up, and I guess that's done."

William hung his head and moved to take his hands away, and she let him.

Buffy tipped his chin with her right hand. "William, seriously, you can't drink so much while taking this medication, and you need your medication. You need to cut down on your drinking, period. I'm not trying to be bossy–Oh, whom am I kidding? Yes I am." She couldn't help laughing and neither could he. Then the smile left her face, and he knew he wasn't off the hook. "It doesn't matter whether I'm here to work for you or not, and whether or not I want to date you is irrelevant. You have to do this for yourself."

William reached up, took her hand, and squeezed it, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with his other. "I understand. Listen, I'm knackered, so I'm going to get some kip. Will I see you tomorrow at breakfast?"

Buffy removed her hand from his and looked away. "I don't know. I've got a lot of thinking to do, and tomorrow's my day off. Remember?"

William bent his head and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes. "Right. Of course. Well have a good night and I guess day, tomorrow." He pushed up from the edge of the couch and walked toward his bedroom.

"William, wait," she said, and hope bloomed in his heart as he turned around. She stood with the capsules and glass of water from the coffee table. "The pharmacist said you could take these for your head. I thought you might want them."

He hoped he hid his look of disappointment well. "Thanks, I guess they might be helpful."

William closed the door and leaned against it as tears slid down his cheeks. He couldn't get the image of his father passed over the kitchen table amidst a plethora of term papers, an empty tumbler in his hand and an empty bottle of scotch on the table. William remembered vehemently denying he'd be nothing like them, but bloody hell if he wasn't sprinting down the path they'd set before him.


Chapter End Notes:
TBC

Chapter nine is with my beta, so I promise not to keep you hanging any longer than necessary.



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