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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: Let’s just say that I got really good news about one of my friends this week, so I just feel like saying yay! It’s hard to write well when you’re in a kind of crummy mood, but she fixed that right up, so thanks you :)
And sorry the updates late...I tried watching the shuttle launch today.
Chapter 11: Discoveries

“Buffy, you up here?” William called as he entered the spacious, well-lit attic.

“How’d you know to come up here?” Buffy asked as she came around from behind the easel across the room.

“Sam said you’d probably be up here….and um, you’re late for our lesson?” At her confused look he continued, “Our cooking lesson.”

“Oh! God, I’m sorry!” Buffy exclaimed, running around, trying to get everything put away quickly. “I totally forgot what day it was, I’m so sorry, it’s just sometimes I kind of lose track of time while I’m up here,” she apologized.

“Now, hold on,” William said, “Way I see it, you owe me….and since I’m up here I think it’s only fair that you show me some of your work.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Buffy said with a frown.

“Now, it’s only fair. You did make me come all the way up here to find you after all.” ‘When all else fails, go for the guilt trip,’ William thought. “And it’s not like this is a small house…took me a bit to find you.”

“Alright, fine, just give me a minute,” Buffy caved.

William took the opportunity to look around the room; it was entirely different from the rest of the house. It looked more…homey?

He guessed that was the word for it, it was the one room in the house that truly looked lived in. While the rest of the house had obviously been done by an interior decorator in order to look just so; he could see touches of Buffy and Sam in this room.

The majority of the room was obviously utilized by Buffy, there were windows on the south wall and the south side of the east and west walls, providing ample lighting at nearly any time of day. And that was where she’d situated her easel, about half way up the room so that she was facing north.

The north side of the room, to the right of the stairs, looked to be Sam’s area. There were a few dolls, some books, and a little table for her to sit at with some crayons and markers and paper.

“She has her own easel too,” Buffy said when she noticed his perusal of the room, “Right there,” She said, indicating the west wall, between where he’d been looking and Buffy’s easel. “She’s really good too, you sure you don’t want to see some of her stuff instead?” Buffy asked, still trying to weasel her way out of showing him any of her work.

“Not getting out of this one,” he informed her. “Now hurry up and show me so we can get down to that cooking.”

“Fine, fine,” Buffy grumbled. “What do you want to see first, the paintings or the photographs?”

“Didn’t know there was a choice, l-, but now that I do know…how about both?”

“Do I really have an option?” Buffy questioned.

“No.” William answered succinctly.

“Okay, both it is then….let’s see, how about photos first? Sound good to you?”

“Perfect,” William said.

“Alright, fine…just remember you asked,” Buffy told him as she led him over to a bookshelf and pulled out a box. “These are the best of my 8 by 10s and…,” she said taking out a second, smaller box, “4 by 6s. But none of them are that good I know, so just….be nice, okay?”

William didn’t answer right away, instead choosing to begin looking through the photos. There were some pictures of Sam through the years, several pictures of flowers and just the general outdoors, a few pictures of things in the house, but strangely enough—none of Angel.

But they were all superb.

“These are great Buffy,” he gushed, “I mean there’s just the right amount of contrast, but they still work really well…and they’re not too dark, they’re very focused…..and you can see how much you love doing this and the pictures of Sam? You can just see how much you love her coming through in your photos. They’re all just wonderful; I had no idea, I mean I thought, but…” he trailed off, focusing back on the photos.

“Really because, you don’t have to say so just to be nice, plenty of people have told me that they’re not that good or that they just don’t get them, so really,” she emphasized, “You don’t have to say so.”

“Plenty of people like who?” William asked incredulously.

“Like An- like people okay?”

“Sorry, don’t get upset, I was just wondering what kind of wanker would ever tell you, you were anything other than an immensely gifted artist who takes magnificent pictures.”

“Give a girl an ego why don’t you…” Buffy said, blushing.

“It’s true,” he said with a bit of a chuckle.

“Well, maybe, but you don’t have to be so,” he gestured around with her hands, “about it.”

“Yes, I did have to be so,” William mimicked her with the hand movements, “about it. These are excellent, p- Buffy.”

“So you really mean it?” Buffy asked carefully.

”Buffy,” he began slowly and deliberately, “I’m a teacher, I practically have to be an expert on how to let untalented people down easily, that’s not the case here, okay? You honestly are one of the best photographers I’ve seen And I’ve been to art museums and galleries in London, Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, hell even some little town in Wisconsin…and you are by the best of the whole bloody bunch. And,” he added when he could see she wanted to argue with him, “I mean it. You wouldn’t want to call me a liar now would you?”

“Noooo,” Buffy wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“It’s settled then, you’re bloody brilliant and you’re going to show me your paintings now so that we can get downstairs and I can turn you into a world class chef,” William said in all seriousness.

“You obviously don’t know just how bad I am in the kitchen,” Buffy said, giggling. “You’re in a surprise!”

“I’m of the mind that if you can paint or draw or take beautiful photographs—which we’ve decided you can—then you can cook. I don’t know, it’s the same part of your brain or some such nonsense. But it’s true.”

“We’ll see,” is all Buffy said as she led him over to the little alcove where her paintings were lined up. “Okay, so, do you want to see the ones I actually kind of like—which is about, oh two,” she said looking at the row of at least 40 paintings, “Or do you want to see them all?”

“Think I’ll go with all, since your judgment obviously can’t be trusted in the matter.”

“Yeah, fine,” the words were dismissive, but he could tell from her look that she was nervous, “Do you want to see them from earliest up to now, or now to when I started?”

“Let’s start from the beginning, that way I can see how you progress.”

Buffy carefully took them out, in groups of five, and laid them the nearby wall, “Just don’t smoosh them okay, they’re oil paintings so some of them have some texture and I don’t really want them flattened.”

“I’ll be careful, I promised.”

As William began to look at the stack of abstract paintings, Buffy quickly turned and wrung her hands together.” I’m just going to go wash my hands…you know get the paint thinner off since we’re going to be cooking,” she said, never quite meeting his gaze.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he said, not seeing her ulterior motive in leaving. She just didn’t think she could be in there while he was looking at her paintings. To her, the photography was showing everyone else how you saw something, but with the painting it was different, it was like creating something that showed everyone a part of your soul, at least for her. And someone seeing those 40 “pieces of her soul”? It scared her to death.

She couldn’t have stayed in there and witnessed his instinctual reaction to each piece. No, leaving the room was definitely the better plan; at least this way if he hated them or didn’t see anything in them, then at least he’d be able to mask his disappointment by the time she got back. Hopefully.


TBC.....Please Review


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