Chapter One: Dark and Light

She slammed the door. Hard. The frame rattled slightly from the force of her wrath.

Buffy ‘I-couldn’t-be-more-dramatic-if-the-world-was-ending’ Summers was not a happy camper. Having just arrived home from a tedious day of schoolwork, she’d been surprised to find her mother there early.

The elder Summers had summoned her wayward daughter into the dining room for a serious talk. Buffy had known right away she wasn’t going to like the conversation. Dining room chats always equaled bad news.

Forcing herself not to take her anger out on her bedroom wall, she slung her shoulder bag into a corner and flopped onto her bed. As childish a mannerism it may seem, she was awfully tempted to bury her face in her pillow and scream.

The newest world-crushing revelation kept replaying in slow motion through her mind. First there’d been screaming and then came the tears. She’d yelled obscenities at her mother that would normally have her grounded.

She wasn’t prepared for this and she certainly wanted no part of it.

Buffy wasn’t a typical ‘popular’ girl, but she had friends she didn’t want to part with. Now, in the face of moving to a new city to live with a man she didn’t know, she had no clue how to cope.

One of her “regular buyers”, her mother had said; a “charming Englishman” who had won her heart.

Buffy didn’t think any amount of charm could convince her to like her mother’s soon-to-be husband.

She sulked for the entirety of the afternoon, ignoring several calls and texts from her friends, until her mother forced her downstairs for dinner. She would’ve fought her on it, but she wasn’t willing to sacrifice her laptop if Joyce’s threats turned out not to be idle.

Pregnant tension permeated the room as the Summers women shoveled food around their plates. Buffy felt her mother’s eyes boring into her and she began taking meager bites, despite her lack of appetite, hoping to placate the older woman.

After a time Joyce cleared her throat and began laying out the moving arrangements. Buffy tried to tune her out to no avail.

It wasn’t like she could run away. She was sixteen, unemployed, she had no money saved up, and she had nowhere to go. The ugly truth pranced in front of her gleefully and she was forced to adopt a grudging modicum of acceptance.

She retired to her bedroom after the lengthy one-sided conversation concluded, and she took in her surroundings with a wistful eye. Within a week all of her worldly possessions would be packed in cardboard boxes, and her comfortable Los Angeles life would morph into something foreign.

She’d lived in this house her entire life. The walls held her secrets, both good and bad.

Her somber mood only lightened marginally at the prospect of getting a fresh start. Perhaps change might fare her well in the end.

She hastily retrieved her art supplies from the closet and set up a station in her usual corner. Tonight she wasn’t in the mood to bother with canvas, so she opted for her thick sketch pad instead.

It didn’t hold the harrowing task of stretching, stapling, and priming. She wanted to vent her emotions quickly and the Gesso alone would take far too long to dry. She propped her makeshift canvas on the easel and readied her palette and rinse cup.

With a careful hand and a critical eye she applied thick brush strokes to the paper, creating a plethora of flowing colors.

She found herself starting in the lower left hand corner, using darker hues which gave a melancholy feel. As the painting progressed it slowly became lighter, epitomizing the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

She supposed her situation could end this way if she let it, provided that Rupert Giles was the gentleman her mother claimed. She could only hope he would treat them well.

Her reluctant resignation did nothing to ease her nerves and her wary attitude.

She stood back and allowed her brush to soak as she appraised the art she’d created. An appreciative smile graced her lips as temporary peace took hold of her. She cleaned her mess and stripped down before crawling into bed, leaving her piece in the corner to dry.

Sleep claimed her quickly but it was the restless variety; riddled with tossing and turning throughout the night.

~*~*~*~


The week passed in a flurry of packing and rushing to get things done. Friday afternoon arrived in a flash and Buffy spent precious hours bidding her friends farewell.

Hugs were exchanged and rare tears sprang up in her eyes. She was usually the cold one in her social circle; the one who never cried and didn't give a shit.

In truth she did cry sometimes, but only when no one could see her. She never wanted to become the girl who wore her heart on her sleeve.

The moving trucks arrived in the evening and by nightfall everything was ready to go. Buffy stared aimlessly out the window for the whole two hours it took to reach Sunnydale.

She heaved a sigh as she saw the city limit and she muttered bitterly, “Home sweet hell.” Her mother shot her a sideways look of disapproval, but didn’t comment.

It was nearly ten o’clock when they pulled into the driveway of 1630 Revello Drive. The moving trucks lined up along the curb and the drivers awaited their orders from General Joyce.

Buffy rolled her eyes and snatched her duffel bag from the backseat. She’d shoved a change of clothes and some toiletries in it, knowing she wouldn’t get around to unpacking her boxes until Saturday.

Giles soon joined her mother in the driveway and Buffy had to turn away as they shared a brief passionate embrace. She clenched her jaw then pasted on a fake smile as introductions began.

A steady brigade of furniture and artwork was marched into the house, under the navigational command of Joyce and Rupert. Buffy fled to her room to avoid the commotion.

A large bed already awaited her there, complete with throw pillows and a goose down comforter. Upon seeing it she couldn’t even summon the energy to say goodnight to her mother and future step-father.

She dumped her bag on the floor, kicked off her shoes, locked the door, drew the blinds closed, and shed her rumpled clothing. It had been a tiresome week and she was in desperate need of rest. With that thought alone she sank under the covers and drifted to dreamland.

~*~*~*~


Saturday morning greeted the sleeping brunette with cheerful birds chirping and an impatient mother knocking on the door. She groaned in dismay as she rolled over and opened her eyes.

Her biological clock was screaming in protest. It was too early to be awake on a Saturday.

Luckily the blinds had kept the majority of the sunlight from filtering into her room. She wasn’t sure she could handle going blind on top of her other problems.

“Buffy! It’s time to wake up, honey! I’ve got breakfast ready downstairs.”

She heard footsteps retreating down the hall and she dragged herself into a sitting position. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and mumbled to the empty room, “Great.”

Ten minutes later she appeared in the kitchen, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to face the day. Her caramel-streaked locks were swept up in a ponytail and she’d dressed in her favorite faded blue jeans and a tight black tank top, which had decorative ribbons laced up the back.

Deciding not to harbor a foul mood so early in the day, she offered a slight smile to the two occupants of the kitchen island. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Giles raised his brows inquisitively as he lifted his cup of coffee. “Did you sleep well?”

Buffy plopped down on the stool next to her mother, shrugged, and nodded agreeably. “Yeah. Comfy bed.”

She’d noticed upon leaving her sleeping quarters that boxes were stacked precariously along the walls, telling her that virtually zero unpacking had occurred the previous night. She wagered the adults had probably been equally as knackered as she.

Her mother passed her a plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, and a cinnamon raisin bagel; one of her all-time favorite breakfast combos. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation as she made quick work of finishing the food.

She chased it down with a glass of milk and helped herself to seconds.

Giles watched her with an air of slight awe, obviously not prepared for her voracious appetite. She could do no more than smirk at the expression on his face.

She patted her sated abdomen when she finally pushed the plate away, and her eyes held a new sparkle as she asked, “So what’s on the agenda for today?” Something about food always brought out her positive side, even though she inwardly felt dismal about her new living arrangements.

Joyce jumped to tell her they’d be spending the morning unpacking, and then they’d leave the house for lunch and a brief tour of the city. Buffy wasn’t sure if she was distressed or relieved at the thought of going out.

Leaving the array of dishes haphazardly strewn in the sink, the three Revello residents ascended the staircase to dig into their respective stacks.

At one point Buffy came across a section of framed photos hanging in the hallway. They featured a blonde-haired woman with kind blue eyes, smiling at the camera and holding close a curly-haired boy.

Confusion struck her at first since she knew next to nothing about Giles’ life. When she questioned him on the pictures he told her they were his ex-wife and son. She didn’t interrogate further as it seemed a sore subject for him.

By one o’clock they’d made a noticeable dent and piles of cardboard littered the halls. While an edge of sadness still tugged at Buffy’s subconscious, she had to admit she didn’t hate it here. Giles was every bit the kind-hearted man her mother had promised.

She thought that maybe, given enough time, she could come to love him and accept him as part of the family.

Chapter Two: Old and New

Attending classes and blending into the social crowd at Sunnydale High was an interesting feat for Buffy. More reserved than most of her peers, she preferred to sit alone than join in the idle chatter.

The inane conversations about hair and boys held no sway over her, and so she voluntarily excluded herself from the popular group.

By the end of the first week she’d made friends with a shy redhead, her musician boyfriend, and a goofy brunette who was vying for the Class Clown position.

It became routine for her to join Willow, Oz, and Xander in the courtyard for lunch, where they would consume questionable mush and trade horror stories about preps and teachers.

She quickly learned a great deal about a cheerleader named Cordelia, who’d apparently spent several years laughing at Xander and Willow’s expense. Despite the brunette’s bitchy qualities, Buffy couldn’t deny an immediate physical attraction to her.

It was all she could do to keep her lips zipped about her desires; she hadn’t yet disclosed her sexual preference to her friends. She was fairly certain they would still welcome her with open arms, but the right timing hadn’t provided itself.

~*~*~*~

Three pm Thursday found the group sitting on the bleachers behind the school. Xander complained about his math teacher giving him too much homework, Willow bragged about Oz having a gig at the Bronze on Saturday, and Buffy stared at Cordelia doing cheers on the football field.

‘Skirts that short should definitely be illegal.’

She noticed her friends were staring at her with expectant expressions and she slowly blinked herself into reality. “Hm?”

Willow frowned a little at her distracted friend and repeated herself. “Do you want to come to the Bronze with us tomorrow?”

“Oh, um…” Buffy scrunched her nose and thought for a minute. “Actually I have a better idea. Oz has a gig Saturday, right?” Willow nodded so she continued. “Well instead of going there two nights in a row, why don’t we go somewhere else tomorrow night?”

The redhead gave her a puzzled look and said, “The Bronze is the only club in Sunnydale we can get into.”

Buffy grinned and exclaimed happily, “Exactly! It’s the perfect opportunity to show you guys my scene and introduce you to my friends.”

Willow caught on quickly and gulped audibly. “LA? Buffy, I don’t know… I don’t think-” Xander cut off her rant when he slung his arm over her shoulders and said, “I think that’s a great idea, Buff! Nothing like a trip to the big city to refresh our sense of fun.”

Oz offered up his two cents with a nonchalant shrug. “Sounds doable. I have a van.”

Buffy had come to realize that the redheaded guitarist was a man of few words, so she appreciated his input that much more, knowing it would be the final push Willow needed to agree.

She wasn’t disappointed.

~*~*~*~

The four teens piled into Oz’s van on Friday night and the journey began. Xander was more than happy to leave the one-Starbucks town and get out for a change, but Willow spent a good ten minutes complaining about how awful she felt for lying to her mother.

Buffy had had no issue telling her mother exactly where she was going. Los Angeles was her city and Joyce knew she could handle herself. She suspected that the woman also felt guilty for moving her away from her friends.

Her trusty Blackberry stayed well-occupied through the car ride, sending and receiving texts to and from the friends she’d be meeting at Club Odyssey. It hadn’t even been two weeks since she’d left and she already missed them.

When they arrived, the parking lot was packed and hip hop music speared the otherwise silent night air. A slender foot encased in black strappy stiletto was first to emerge from the blue vehicle. It was followed by smooth golden legs, a short leather skirt, a deep chocolate top, and smoky green eyes that shone with delight.

Her friends were dressed much more conservatively than she, obviously not accustomed to the upscale fashion expectations of big-city nightclubs.

She rushed toward the entrance with her three comrades close behind, scanning the crowd for her two waiting friends. Gobs of girls in skimpy clothing were lined up behind a velvet rope, illuminated by the club’s flashy neon sign.

A no-nonsense bouncer was keeping the waiting patrons from flooding the already-crowded establishment, while a few security officers lingered in the background to ensure that order was kept.

Buffy’s thumbs flew across the keypad on her phone and her face lit up when she got a response. “This way!”

She worked her way toward the back of the line until she spotted the familiar faces. Holding in a girlish squeal, she practically threw herself in the arms of a voluptuous blonde, and then a shorter brunette. “Oh my god! It’s so good to see you again!”

She would realize later just how prep-ish she sounded, but in that moment she didn’t care. She just basked in the presence of her two oldest girl friends. When she realized that the newest additions to her social circle had caught up with her, she made haste with the introductions.

“Guys… I’d like you to meet Kim and Anya. I’ve been friends with them since my freshman year at Hemery.” She indicated the blonde and the brunette with a smile as she spoke their names. Then she introduced Willow, Oz, and Xander, pleased to see that everyone was getting along so far.

The four of them joined the other two in line, receiving several glares from people waiting behind them, and Buffy chatted animatedly to catch up from the two-week absence. Progress toward the door was slow, but steady, and soon they were only a few people shy of their conquest.

Buffy stood on her tip-toes to try and see over the taller people in front of her, but she huffed in frustration when her efforts turned out to be useless. She squeaked mildly in surprise when she heard a soft, husky voice whispering near her ear. “You look amazing tonight, Buffy. I’m really glad you came.”

She shivered slightly at Kim’s dulcet tones and the implication behind her words. She bit her lip and tried to focus on anything but the warm breath tickling her neck. She wasn’t sure she was ready to reveal her big secret just yet, but her body was already reacting to the tempting blonde vixen behind her.

She felt a warm hand grasp hers and she didn’t fight it any longer. She resigned to blowing her cover as she squeezed Kim’s hand and turned to give the girl a kiss on the lips. She wasn’t quite prepared when the blonde’s tongue entered her mouth to duel with her own.

Despite the very public location of their steamy exchange, she couldn’t prevent the half-moan/half-whimper that rose up in her throat. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to pull out of the kiss. Lust-glazed eyes locked as they panted slightly for fresh air.

Reality crept back into her consciousness and she glanced over at the Sunnydale trio, bracing herself for the worst. Xander’s jaw hung loose and she was convinced he was one step short of drooling. Oz was complacent and expressionless as usual, but his eyes held no unkindness in them. Willow seemed to be the only one on the verge of a wig-fest.

She seemed frozen on the spot even as the line started to move. Buffy swallowed hard and pleaded silently with the redhead to not hate her. It took the girl a minute to snap out of her semi-trance, but then she offered an awkward half-smile. That was all she could expect at the moment.

~*~*~*~

A corner table was procured upon their entrance to the club, and Willow, Xander, Oz, and Anya all took the liberty of sitting right away. The tables nearer to the dance floor were already occupied and they knew this was the best they would get.

Kim and Buffy, with their fingers still laced together, took the drink orders from their friends and proceeded to the bar. While waiting on the bartender to serve up their sodas, the busty blonde wrapped her arms gently around Buffy’s waist.

She leaned in as close as she could and whispered, “I really did miss you, you know…” Buffy turned and tilted her chin up toward the smiling face of her friend-with-benefits. The girl was taller than her by a little over half a foot, so she had to rise up on the balls of her feet to steal a soft kiss.

A throat clearing behind them interrupted the moment and they each grabbed their share of the drinks, cradling them awkwardly and trying not to spill the expensive beverages. When they got back to the table they passed out the refreshments then shared the only seat left.

Buffy felt the heat rising to her cheeks as everyone kept glancing over periodically, and then quickly looking away again guiltily. She sighed loudly, drawing the attention of the table, and she tried not to let her distress show on her face.

Her shoulders slumped a smidgeon but she bravely looked up and met Willow’s curious gaze. “Will… I know this is probably a huge shock to you, and I know I probably should have told you before… but are you going to be okay with this?”

The redhead seemed to be lost in thought for a long moment before she answered quietly. “I won’t pretend I’m not surprised, but I’m not going to judge you for what you can’t control. You’re still my friend Buffy and I’m happy as long as you’re happy.”

A tidal wave of relief rolled over the brunette and she let a smile spread across her lips. “Thanks, Will. I knew I liked you for a reason.” She winked playfully then bolted out of her seat as the music changed. A childlike grin crossed her face as she tugged on Kim’s hand.

“Dance with me?”

A devious smirk inhabited the blonde’s face as she eagerly accepted the offer. While they’d never officially been more than friends, the two girls had a long-standing physical relationship with one another.

Picking their way through the sweaty mass of hormonal bodies proved to be a challenge at first, but eventually they found a spot they were comfortable with. Bodies bumped, hips swayed, pelvises grinded, sweat beaded, and arousal built up at a steady tempo. By the final chord of the song, Buffy was sure she was burning up from the inside out.

The fast-paced music melted into a softer melody and the girls repositioned themselves, wrapping their arms around each other in a rare display of affection and intimacy. It wasn’t often that they danced to something so… romantic.

Buffy let her head rest on Kim’s shoulder and she closed her eyes, letting herself relax and pretend for a moment that she was happy with her life. For just a few minutes she could convince herself that she was in the arms of someone she genuinely loved. For just a few minutes everything would be okay again.

The illusion shattered far too quickly and they headed back to the table to cool off. She was surprised to find it empty upon arrival. It seemed that Oz and Willow had partaken in the slow dance, and apparently Anya and Xander were getting along better than she’d thought.

She arched a brow as she spotted them making out near the edge of the dance floor. “Huh… Didn’t see that one coming.”

~*~*~*~

Several hours later the group separated reluctantly, promising to keep in touch and repeat the night sometime soon. It was the general consensus of everyone that fun had been had, and Buffy was proud to say that all of her friends had gotten along swimmingly. Xander even had a potential girlfriend lined up by the looks of things.

Buffy knew Anya well and she knew that the girl liked to sleep around, but she’d never seen her friend so genuinely interested in a guy before. If she had to take a gander, she’d say that the brunette was interested in more than just a few satisfying orgasms from her goofy friend.

Another positive development of the evening was that she’d finally come clean about being a lesbian, and her friends were completely accepting of it. She couldn’t have asked for a more amazing group of people to spend her time with.

Tired but happy, the gang loaded up for the two-hour drive back to their home. Suddenly Sunnydale didn’t seem as awful as it had before. She had a sneaking suspicion that it would soon become home to her as well.

Chapter Three: Stronger

London, England

William Giles was the embodiment of the classical high school nerd. Wire-rimmed glasses were perched atop his nose and stuffy ‘proper’ clothing fitted loosely on his lanky form. Khaki trousers and white button-ups didn’t exactly earn him cool points. To make matters worse, he was rarely seen without his nose buried in a book.

More often than not, that book happened to consist of poetry, giving plenty of ammunition to anyone who wanted a laugh at his expense. He was used to the teasing and he’d learned to tune it out, having endured it for most of his adolescent life.

The dismissal bell rang, jarring him out of his poetry-induced fantasy world. He shut his book and began to gather his belongings. He’d finished his writing assignment a good twenty minutes ago and he’d busied himself with reading for the remainder of the period.

The other students around him were already geared to go and clambering for the door, some of them shooting him strange glances on their way past him. It was no secret that he wasn’t well-liked. When he wasn’t being ignored he was being picked on. He paid no one any mind as he slipped his shoulder bag on and headed for the exit.

He was at the back of the crowd and he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder before he could escape the room. He turned and came face-to-face with his English teacher, Ms. Hall. She offered him a genuine smile and pulled him away from the group. As the last of the students wandered out she clasped her hands and said excitedly, “I was hoping to talk to you before you left. I just finished reading your work and I feel obligated to praise it.”

He ducked his head as his cheeks threatened to turn pink. He was obviously about to open his mouth in protest, but she cut him off by speaking again. “Really, William, I think you’re an incredibly intelligent and talented young man. You could go far with your writing if you wanted to. Don’t ever let anyone discourage you or put you down. I know these kids may not always be kind to you, but you needn’t take it to heart. You’ve got a gift that they could only dream of.”

He looked up and a real smile graced his lips. He was a little embarrassed that she’d mentioned the way he was treated by his peers, but he was more touched by the compliments she’d given him. “Thank you, Ms., it means a lot that you think so.”

She patted him on his shoulder and said, “Not at all, William. You’re free to leave now. I’m sure you have somewhere much more exciting to be.” He would’ve laughed at the absurdity of her statement, but he was too quiet-natured and more than a little humiliated. He didn’t have any great circle of friends waiting for him outside. All he had was his sickly mother to look after, which he didn’t mind.

He loved her more than anything and he was every bit the dutiful son she deserved. After she and his father had gotten a divorce, he’d chosen to stay in England with her. He could never understand why his father had abandoned the both of them to live in the states. He hadn’t seen the man in years and he’d stowed away a good amount of bitterness toward him.

When Anne had fallen ill to tuberculosis, which was extremely rare given the time period, he’d developed further unpleasant feelings toward his absent father. He’d since dedicated all of his spare time to caring for his mother and making sure she was comfortable.

The doctors had informed him that her condition was very serious, and all that they’d done to try and help her seemed to fail. She’d been sick for months now with no sign of recovery. He knew it was only a matter of time before her body gave out, and the weight of that knowledge constantly pressed on his mind.

He’d stopped sleeping well weeks ago, constantly worrying for Anne’s declining health. More and more often he’d hear her coughing in the middle of the night and he’d get up to check on her. As the weeks crawled by, the internal bleeding seemed to increase in volume and frequency.

He felt completely helpless; there was nothing in his power that could keep her alive. He could only watch as she suffered daily, and it was tearing him apart inside.

He smiled awkwardly at his teacher before leaving the room, too caught up in his turbulent thoughts to say anything to her. Her brow creased in worry as she watched him go, knowing that something was off with him. At the beginning of the school year he’d seemed to be a generally happy person, albeit just as quiet as ever. As of late he’d retracted further into himself and he’d been showing the classic signs of depression.

She chewed on her lower lip and made a mental note to pay closer attention to him. She would feel awful if something happened to such a sweet boy, who also happened to be one of her most promising students. She really believed that he could do anything he wanted with a mind like his.

William bumped into several people on his way out of the school. He wasn’t watching where he was going, in his haste to get home, and more than one obscenity was yelled at his retreating form.

~*~*~*~

Anne Pratt was busy washing and chopping vegetables when she heard the front door open and close. She smiled to herself as she tossed a handful of thinly sliced carrots into the salad bowl. ‘William must be home.’

He appeared in the kitchen seconds later and rewarded her with a warm smile. “Hello, Mother.” He enveloped her in a hug and she set her knife down to return it. When they broke away she had a new sparkle in her eye. It always cheered her up when she was near her son.

He was such a loving man and she really hoped he would someday find a woman who would take care of him. He was far more sensitive than most young men his age. It would break her heart to see him hurt.

“How was school, William?” She went back to carefully chopping the vegetables and adding them to the salad. He set his book bag down and went to wash his hands so he could help her.

“It was all right. Ms. Hall told me I have a knack for writing. I think she’s a bit batty to be honest.” He laughed lightly with a glimmer of amusement in his cerulean eyes. It warmed Anne’s heart to see him happy for a change. He’d been sulking around for weeks, worrying endlessly about her condition.

“She’s right, dear. I know you don’t want to listen to an old lady like me, but you’re a very smart boy, William.” He ducked his head and complained good-naturedly, “You have to think that. You’re my mum.” She laughed and swatted his arm. “Nonsense. I mean every word.”

They continued their easy camaraderie as they prepared the evening meal. Dinner consisted of hand-tossed salad with Italian vinaigrette, accompanied by baked chicken breasts and buttered sweet potatoes.

Afterward they cleaned the dishes together then sat down in the living room. It was a normal routine for them to spend the evening together, each knowing that they might not have much time left. Anne settled herself on the sofa and patted the space beside her. William sat and asked, “Would you like to hear some poetry, Mother?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Anne to request that he recite something. She seemed to gain some honest joy from it and he was happy to oblige. Her face lit up at his offer and she nodded eagerly. “Please. You know I love to hear poetry from you.” He took her hand with a sheepish smile and said, “Well I don’t have anything new that I’ve written, but I’ll be happy to recite someone else’s work.” He squeezed her hand and smiled brighter as he began.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight…”

He was interrupted suddenly when she was thrown into a vicious coughing fit. He instantly jumped up to fetch a glass of water, as she pulled out her handkerchief and caught the flecks of blood that would’ve ended up on the sofa. He returned quickly and sat beside her, offering her the glass and rubbing her back with his free hand.

She took eager gulps of the cold liquid as her body calmed once more. He helped her to stand once she finished and he escorted her up the stairs to her room. She insisted that she was fine but he fussed over her nonetheless, helping her into bed and asking her if she needed anything else. “I’m fine, William. You need to stop worrying about me so much. You’re going to become an old man before you turn eighteen.”

Her eyes crinkled a little as she smiled up at him, even though her head was resting tiredly on the pillow. She patted his hand lovingly and said, “I just need some rest and I’ll be good as new. I promise.” He smiled back at her but it didn’t reach his eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Her promise was empty and they both knew it.

~*~*~*~

William shut himself up in his room and finished his homework quickly. He breezed through the assignments without giving them any real thought. As far as he was concerned, the work was fit for elementary students. It was a shame that most of his classmates were incapable of using the brains they’d been given. The result was that his teachers were forced to lower the bar to accommodate the general populous.

He pushed aside his history textbook and thumbed through a stack of papers on his desk. He drew out a piece covered in various scribbles; his latest poetic disaster. He kept trying to get his thoughts down in a sensible order, but the words were eluding him. All he’d come up with were random bits and pieces that had no artistic flow.

With a scowl fixed firmly on his face, he put his pencil to the paper and tried once more to call upon his muse. An hour later he huffed in frustration and stood from his chair, stretching his stiff limbs and abandoning the poem for the time being. He turned off the desk lamp and quickly changed for bed. His body was rent with exhaustion and he didn’t have the energy to fight sleep off tonight.

~*~*~*~

“Well what do we have here?” William looked up from his notebook and gulped when he saw Parker Abrams, the captain of the rugby team, staring at him with a smug grin.

His buddy Jake decided to pitch in with a loud guffaw. “It looks like little Willy is scribbling love notes again.” Jake snatched the notebook up, much to William’s dismay, and handed it to a laughing Parker.

William groaned inwardly and looked down in shame as the two started reading it aloud. Everyone knew that he had a crush on Cecily Addams, but the thought of public humiliation in front of her hadn’t occurred to him until now.

“This woman dost not cognize
The wealth of love I have bestowed,
For she hath proved to paralyze,
To her my deep affection is owed.”

Everyone within hearing range busted out in laughter, ranging from belly-laughs to girlish giggles. His cheeks flamed and tears threatened to spill from his eyes. He tuned the rest out as he bolted from his seat and ran out of the lunchroom. He didn’t stop until he’d cleared the building completely, gasping a little for breath since he wasn’t accustomed to physical exertion. He made a note to visit the gym sometime soon.

His muscles strained and his lungs burned in protest as he ran the rest of the way to his house, skipping out on his classes for the first time in his life. He didn’t let the tears fall until he was inside the front door. At that point he collapsed tiredly and let his emotions get the better of him.

Cecily’s laughing face was burned permanently in his mind. She’d been among the crowd with her friends, making fun of him like everyone else. He could hear her voice ringing in his ears, calling him ‘William the Bloody Awful Poet’ as he’d run away.

Anne heard the commotion from her study and emerged to find William slumped on the floor, crying and muttering under his breath. Her heart clenched with worry and she quickly went over to him. He flinched at first when she wrapped her arms around him, until he realized who she was. Then he sank into her embrace with relief, feeling like a little boy who’d scraped his knee on the playground.

After a time he regained control of himself and relayed the events of the afternoon. Anne listened attentively and scowled when he finished. Children could be so cruel when they wanted. Her heart broke a little for him as she wiped away his remaining tears.

“I’m so sorry, dear. They had no right to invade your privacy and say those things. They’re wrong about you, though. I happen to love your poetry.” She smiled encouragingly at him, hoping it would help to lift the sadness clouding his persona.

He felt increasingly embarrassed as his mother tried to comfort him. He knew he shouldn’t listen to the criticisms of insecure teenagers, but sometimes they cut him deeper than he’d like. His poetry was one of his weaker points and they’d preyed on it without hesitation, cutting him down and making him feel worthless.

He looked at his mother and forced a smile onto his face. “I know, Mother. I’m sorry for causing you concern. It’s difficult to bear at times, but I know it’s more about them than me.” He laughed bitterly and said, “I feel bloody stupid now, sitting here crying like a pathetic git.”

Anne frowned and said sternly, “Don’t say such things about yourself, William. Even the strongest people have feelings, and sometimes they get hurt. Never feel ashamed of your tears.” She kissed his forehead then stood and offered him her hand, helping him to his feet as well.

“Why don’t you run upstairs and clean up? I’ll make some chicken parmesan and spaghetti.” She knew it was his favorite dish and she was happy to do anything that would improve his mood. He kissed her cheek and dashed upstairs to do as she’d asked. He already felt a little better about what happened, but a small part of him would always be slightly scarred from the experience. What didn’t kill him would make him stronger.

Chapter Four: Straight as Spaghetti

Sunnydale, California

Buffy chewed on her thumbnail as she stared at the brunette who’d captivated her attention for the last three weeks. She became suddenly aware of two things: her friends had stopped talking and three pairs of eyes were glued on her. She looked at them guiltily and a sheepish smile crossed her lips. She tried to ward off the pink that was rapidly threatening to stain her cheeks.

The trio followed her previous path of sight and several brows arched in astonishment. Xander seemed to be putting two and two together and a boyish frown stole over his features. The light bulb popped on in his head and he asked in a flabbergasted tone, much louder than she would have liked, “CORDELIA?!?”

Buffy shot daggers at him with her eyes and nearly growled, “Do you mind? I would like my personal life staying just that. Personal. I don’t want to advertise it.”

He cowed slightly and his eyes darted around nervously. There was no telling what this little brunette spitfire would do when she was pissed off. He’d already witnessed more than one guy getting a slap to the face after making a derogatory pass at her.

Her angry resolve melted a little when she saw his nervous stance. He looked like he was ready to run. She fought off a giggle and touched his arm gently. “Don’t worry, Xan. I’m not going to hit you. Just try and keep it on the DL in the future?” She pleaded with her eyes and he was eager to agree with her.

While he may have started a relationship with her friend Anya, it was clear to anyone that he still fancied her. She thought it was cute at times, and annoying at others. She’d made it abundantly clear to him that she was very, very gay.

Willow cut off any further interaction between them as she spoke up. “So, Buffy… if you’re done staring at the queen B-I-T-C-H, we could maybe make some plans for this weekend?” The redhead looked hopeful as she leaned further into Oz’s embrace. The guitarist had his arm wrapped around her in a rare public display of affection.

Buffy’s lips quirked up in amusement at her friend’s antics; it was just like Willow to spell out a bad word. She clasped her hands in front of her on the table and shrugged. “I’m game. What are you up for?”

It was quickly established that they would all meet at the Bronze on Friday at eight. Buffy wasn’t too excited about walking there, but her mother still wouldn’t let her anywhere near the car keys. She winced as she remembered the last time she’d driven. She’d nearly wrecked her mother’s brand new SUV, backing up toward a telephone pole when she meant to go forward. She now firmly believed that cars and Buffy were unmixy things.

~*~*~*~

Buffy chatted boredly on her cell phone as she perused rack after rack of designer clothes. She really wasn’t jonesing to be caught within a fifty-mile radius of Neiman Marcus, but her mother had adamantly insisted that she purchase at least two formal outfits; the gallery showings were coming up in less than a month and mother dearest had made it mandatory that she attend. Pure torture.

A familiar face entered the store and Buffy’s eyes widened cartoonishly. She whispered hurriedly into her phone, “Sorry, Anya, but I’ve got to go. Call you later.” She hung up and ducked behind a rack of clothes. “Shit.” She bit her lip and glanced through the clothes.

The last person she wanted to see her here was very likely to do just that. She weighed her options and figured the situation was grim either way. She could sacrifice her anti-prep reputation by making her presence known, or she could make a mad dash for the exit and hope she wasn’t seen. She groaned as she reluctantly made her decision.

She popped up from her hiding place and began thumbing through the clothes on display. She tried to appear as nonchalant as possible, knowing she wouldn’t have to go out of her way to start a conversation. As soon as the cheerleader saw her there was sure to be metaphorical fireworks.

No later had she thought it than she heard a surprised gasp to her left. She glanced up quickly and came eye-to-eye with the brunette she’d secretly been lusting after.

“Buffy?” Cordelia’s voice held a note of disbelief and she crossed her arms across her chest, momentarily diverting Buffy’s attention to the cleavage on display.

She caught herself quickly and asked in her best irritated tone, “Last I checked. Can I help you?”

Cordelia seemed at a loss for words and Buffy had to admit it was a glorious moment; normally the girl wouldn’t shut up unless you duck-taped her mouth. Finally she regained her composure and said snootily, “You’re just the last person I ever expected to see in here. What are you doing here anyway? I know you don’t wear these clothes.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped in defeat and she sighed, resigned to telling the truth even though it would surely spread like wildfire. “You’re right, I don’t dress like this. In fact, I can’t stand preppy clothing.” She forced a tight smile and said, “My mother owns an art gallery. She expects me to get dolled up for the premiere showing at the end of the month.”

The cheerleader contemplated her statement before deciding to take it at face value. “Oh.” Buffy raised her brows and prepared herself to take another plunge into social disgrace.

“Would you, um… I mean… Could you help me? I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

To her credit, Cordelia didn’t laugh… much. She stopped after a short giggle and put her hand over her mouth, a slightly apologetic look on her face. Buffy didn’t know which action she should be more shocked by.

Choosing to ignore the brunette’s reaction all together, she turned her focus back to the clothes in front of her. She frowned as she sorted through the various garments, not finding anything she would be comfortable wearing. Everything was so… showy. The fabrics were all silky or lacy, intricate stitching making them more than Buffy could’ve afforded without her mother’s credit card.

She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and she looked up sharply, surprised to find a genuine smile directed her way, and by her sort-of-nemesis no less. “I’ll help, but only because you look so pathetic and clueless.”

Buffy knew not to take the insult to heart, mostly because Cordelia was rude to everyone she didn’t consider “on her level”; so it wasn’t just her. She snorted derisively and replied, “Right. Well lead the way.” She waved her arm with a flourish, imitating every cheesy game show host in history.

Cordelia led her over to a display of short black dresses and her throat constricted in nervousness. She hated formal wear. Detested it even. She had a feeling she was going to be sick by the end of this.

~*~*~*~

“No. Absolutely not. I refuse to come out like this.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated huff. “Come on, Buffy. It can’t be that bad. I’m sure you look fine.”

As surprising as it was, they’d actually been civil with each other for almost an hour now. They’d bickered frequently over the clothes the cheerleader picked out, but they’d kept the insults to a minimum.

When she wasn’t leading her flock of sheep around Sunnydale High, Cordelia had actually proven to be a semi-decent person to be around. She still lacked in the ‘nice’ department, but it was vast improvement.

The sound of the dressing room curtain being pulled aside drew the brunette’s attention away from inspecting her manicured nails. Her jaw slacked a little and she was rendered temporarily speechless.

Buffy fidgeted uncomfortably and clenched her toes against the coarse department store carpet. She wrung her hands together and waited for Cordelia to say something… anything.

When she couldn’t take the silence anymore, she exhaled sharply and asked, a little more harshly than she intended, “What? Do you need to take a picture or something?”

That snapped the brunette out of her stupor and she glared. She pursed her lips thoughtfully then replied, “You look amazing, actually. I’m surprised.” She stood up, stretching slightly and abandoning the cushioned seat in the waiting area. She shouldered her purse and tossed a fake smile in Buffy’s direction.

“Well I should really be going now. I have shopping to do and I so can’t afford to be seen with you.” She turned and left swiftly, leaving Buffy stunned and a little miffed. Apparently the old Cordelia had already reemerged and jumped back on the ‘humiliate Buffy’ train.

She changed quickly into her regular clothes and took the dress to the check-out station. She knew her mother had said she wanted two different outfits, but there was no way she was spending another minute in this store.

~*~*~*~

Buffy was sufficiently surprised that no gossip had been spread about her the following day. No one looked at her any stranger than they usually did, and she didn’t hear any conspiratorial whispers behind her back. She was grateful that Cordelia had decided to keep her mouth shut, and to return the favor she didn’t say anything either.

Friday came in the blink of an eye and Buffy entered the Bronze wearing a red halter top and dangerously short shorts. Her hair flowed in loose chocolate waves around her shoulders and spilled down her bare back. Her make-up was lighter than usual with only a touch of lip gloss and a hint of eyeliner.

She met up with her friends at a table near the stage. Oz was already setting up with his band and Willow was staring like a smitten kitten. Buffy chatted idly with Xander after she realized the redhead wasn’t listening, but their conversation died off as the first chords of music filled the club.

Several songs later she excused herself from the table to get a drink. She was on her way to the bar when she spotted Cordelia heading toward the restroom. If you had asked her at that moment, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you what compelled her to follow the brunette. Some invisible force inside her tugged at her will and her feet moved of their own volition.

Just as she couldn’t explain why she’d followed the cheerleader, she also couldn’t explain how she’d ended up in a heavy make-out session with her. One minute she’d been standing by the door, waiting to talk to the brunette when she emerged, and the next she’d had the girl pressed up against the wall.

Her fingers eagerly wove through silky brown locks and she moaned. The taste of chocolate lip gloss caressed her tongue and she moved to deepen the kiss. Cordelia had stiffened immediately when Buffy had kissed her, but mere seconds passed before she was actively participating. She would later deny any such involvement, of course.

Buffy felt her entire body tingling as arousal flared fervently between her thighs. Her skin flushed pink and her skilled tongue twined with that of her prey. A whimper escaped her strawberry-coated lips and she broke away gasping for air.

Green eyes flew open to meet brown, filled with equal expressions of confusion and fear. Buffy released Cordelia and backed away a step, not sure what to say. She had no regrets or qualms about kissing the busty brunette, but she was sure the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Cordelia was the first to speak, albeit in a slightly breathless voice. “You can’t tell anyone about this. This was just… a mistake. I’m straight.”

Some of Buffy’s confidence returned and she closed the gap between them. “Yeah? So’s spaghetti until you heat it up.” She let out a low chuckle then pressed a firm kiss to the taller girl’s lips. In a flash she turned on her heel, throwing Cordelia a quick wink over her shoulder, and she left without giving her a chance to respond.

~*~*~*~

The weekend gave Buffy ample time to ponder her Friday night debacle. By Sunday evening she’d procured a new mission, one which probably wouldn’t be easy. She was determined to seduce Cordelia Chase.

She’d been driven nuts for weeks by the short skirts and the shampoo commercial hair. Now that she’d had a taste there was no going back. She was going after what she wanted, damn it.