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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you everyone for the kind reviews for chapter one! I hope you continue to enjoy the story!
Chapter 2:

 
"I cannot believe you bought a desk," Willow stated flatly as she placed her purchased items in the backseat of Buffy's Jeep. "And it's not even in good condition."

"Well, that's what having a best friend who is also a full-time carpenter comes in handy for," Buffy replied, taking another look at her jeep, trying to gauge the room in the back.

Nope, Buffy thought, shaking her head. There is no way that desk is going to be able to fit into my car.

"And speaking of Xander...," Buffy began, thinking that he might be the best person to help the two girls get back to Buffy's apartment.

Buffy pulled out her cell phone and keyed down several times until she came to Xander's number in her phone book. Buffy checked the time on her watch and hoped that both he and his fiancée, Anya, would be awake by now before she pressed "send."

Ten minutes later, Buffy and Willow waved as their friend drove up the driveway in his black GMC truck.

"Here I am, to save the day," Xander Harris announced, as he hopped out of the truck. "How can I assist you two lovely ladies on this way-too-early-to-be-up-and-shopping morning?"

Buffy's other best friend had been a construction worker going on four years now. The high school student with no goals in life other than to get out of his drunken parents’ basement, had become a hard-working man who had a fancy apartment in Sunnydale and a beautiful fiancée. All in all, it turned out that Xander's life wasn't too bad.

Xander had obviously just rolled out of bed. If hearing his groggy voice on her cell phone wasn't evidence enough, Buffy could tell by looking at his mismatched, wrinkled outfit that he’d grabbed the first clothing he could find. His dark brown hair was ruffled and sticking up in several sections, making Buffy wonder if he’d looked in the mirror yet.

"We need help getting something back to my place," Buffy announced.

"Buffy just bought a beat up, rickety old desk," Willow explained at the same time.

"Woah, woah," Xander calmly spoke, trying to process the fast flying words coming in his direction. "Let's take things nice and slow. I'm still waking up here."

"I just bought a desk," Buffy began. "But it won't fit into my Jeep, and-"

"Say no more," he interrupted. "So, you called in the Xan-man to help you out. It's not a problem, Buff. I'm always willing to lend a hand."

Just another reason why Xander was one of her best friends - he would do anything for the two women standing in front of him, and they all knew it.

Buffy smiled before saying, "Thank you Xander, I appreciate it."

"Sure, now where is this new piece of craftsmanship?" Xander rubbed his hands together jokingly. "I love getting my hands on some wood."

The three friends thought about that sentence for a second, wondering if anyone should say something in response to one of the many Freudian slips Xander always seemed to come up with.

"I'm sorry...it's too early for me to be having intelligent conversations," Xander remarked.

"It's 10:30," Willow retorted.

"Exactly, and before noon is still considered prime sleeping time. You should try it some time, Will."

Buffy rolled her eyes, wondering if they would ever grow out of their bantering and teasing. I hope not.

"C'mon, guys, the desk is over here."

Buffy led them back to where she had stood not fifteen minutes ago and looked back at Xander to see his reaction.

"Woah, you weren't joking there when you said beat up, were you Will?" Xander asked, his eyes scanning the nicks in the legs and corners of the desk.

Buffy bit her lip, hoping her plans weren't destroyed and she wasn't out $182. "Do you think you can fix it?"

Xander slowly nodded, bending down to get a closer look. "Sure, just use some sanding and wood glue, and this puppy should be looking like new in a matter of no time."

"Great! Maybe we can do that some afternoon when we're both pretty free work-wise," she suggested.

"Sure, sounds fine to me...just gotta let the missus know when."

"She already got you on a ball and chain, huh?" Willow joked, knowing that Anya always liked to know what Xander was doing when and, more importantly, who with.

"We're not married yet," Xander defended, "so I'm still a free man. I do what I want."

"Sure, sure...a free man who has to call home every twenty minutes to give an update on what you're doing," Willow teased, grinning before playfully slapping his arm.

"Alright you two." Buffy stepped in, breaking the playful moment. "Let's get this back to my place so Willow and I can get ready for work."

 
 
~~~

 
 
 
After an exhausting fight to get the desk into the back of Xander's truck and then up the flight of stairs outside of her apartment complex, Buffy decided to leave it sitting right outside her bedroom door until she came home from work, giving her more time to figure out where she wanted to put it. She thanked Xander for helping her and sent him home to catch up on his sleep. Buffy still needed to get ready for work.

When she came home, after quickly making some dinner for herself, she walked to the end of the hallway to figure out where to move the desk.

Okay, she told herself. I've got plenty of room here, let me think. I could just move the desk over there to the other side of my bed if I move my bookcase to the left a few feet. She walked around her room with a measuring tape, trying to decide what would take up the least amount of space and still look pleasing to the eye.

Finally, Buffy decided to follow her first instinct and place the desk at the foot of her bed. She walked back out to the kitchen to grab a chair that would serve as a temporary seat for her new purchase.

"Well, this is nice," Buffy told herself as she sat down in front of the desk. "All this baby needs is a new coat of varnish, definitely some sanding here and there...nothing that Xander can't do."

Buffy gazed at the desk, noticing, for the first time, faint carvings in the bottom left hand corner of the surface. "That's weird. I didn't see that before," she said to herself, as she scooted closer to the desk to see what was carved into it.

W. A. S.

"Must be the previous owner," Buffy muttered. "Well, I bet that Xander can just sand that down easily. It's barely there now as it is, anyway."

Sitting in her somewhat uncomfortable chair, Buffy looked around her bedroom, noticing, not for the first time, how bare the room looked. Her thoughts began to drift, inevitably thinking back to her failed relationship with Warren. She wondered for the hundredth time if there was anything she could have done to prevent their relationship from completely falling apart.

 
~~~

 
Warren Mears was everything a girl dreamed about having. Dark, handsome looks, funny, and incredibly successful. The Mears family had established one of the nation's most powerful and wealthy industries in technology; more specifically, robotics. Warren's father had single-handedly caused great strides to be made in the area of artificial intelligence. His dream was to create human-like robots to serve as maids, babysitters, and other helpful positions in the future

Warren and Buffy first ran into each other at one of her gallery openings. She had been introducing a new series that evening, and Buffy was so nervous it would have appeared as if it were her first opening. It was, however, her first adventure into painting landscapes of the nearby area, but judging from the turnout and paintings purchased that evening, it would not be her last.

Warren had come after both reading and hearing about this petite woman whose paintings were compared to the likes of Monet. After introducing himself that evening, they were instantly captivated by each other. Warren left that night with a waterside landscape and a promise to call Buffy later that week, which he did.

However, as their relationship progressed, Buffy began noticing small things that she must have been oblivious to on their first few dates. When things didn't go his way, Warren got angry - very angry. In fact, it seemed like the smaller and less important problems made him even more upset than the larger ones.

Pretty soon, he turned his anger on Buffy. It started small - banging on tables, walls, or doors, throwing things in her direction, or shoving her away from him when she tried to comfort and support him - things like that. But eventually it escalated to the point where Buffy showed up at work one morning with the entire right side of her face swollen and bruised.

It was on that morning that Willow decided she couldn't take seeing her friend hurt anymore. She didn't understand why Buffy put up with Warren’s behavior. After all, Willow had known Buffy since the beginning of high school, and she knew that her friend was a strong, independent woman. However, it seemed that over time that the strong side of Buffy had slipped away, leaving a docile, submissive woman who was terrified of her boyfriend.

"I just don't get it," Buffy sobbed, once Willow confronted her. Buffy rested her head against Willow's shoulder. "How can I let him do these things to me? Why can't I just tell him it's over...just leave him?"

"Buffy, sometimes things like this happen to women," Willow began in a soothing tone. "They try to get out, but he won't let them. They try to break it off, but then...he's normal again, all smiles and jokes, and he tries to make the woman forget she was beaten just the other night. And oftentimes? He succeeds."

"And that's just it," Buffy whispered. "He shoves me, slaps me, hits me...and then he'll come back later that evening or early the following day, and he's...he's Warren again. He's the carefree, joking man that I met nine months ago. He apologizes and...and I just can't help but let it go."

Willow nodded and tightened her embrace. She had read books and researched cases like this happening to women all around the world. She knew that Buffy needed to get out of this relationship as soon as possible, or risk being emotionally damaged for the rest of her life.

And sometimes Willow wondered if it was already too late to hope that Buffy would come out of this without being damaged.

"Buffy, you need to end things with him," Willow advised.

"But if I do...if I do that, he’ll just get even more upset," Buffy said, worriedly shaking her head at the thought of Warren's probable anger. "He...he won't let me, I just know it."

"But, Buffy.." Willow started.

"What should I do, Will?" Buffy asked. "Please, tell me what I need to do."

"Buffy, honey, you need to break up with him," Willow reiterated. "The sooner the better. This man needs to be out of your life for good."

Buffy shook her head, "But he's...no, I love him..."

"Do you really, Buffy?" Willow responded. She brushed the tears away from Buffy's face. "How can you love a man that beats you? That takes his anger out on you. The Buffy I know wouldn't have put up with that for one second."

"He loves me," Buffy whispered.

"No man who loves you would beat you," Willow stated, hoping that she was putting some sense into her friend's head.

"Oh Willow..." Fresh tears sprang up in Buffy's eyes and she lowered her head and wept.

Warren, you bastard, Willow thought. What the hell have you done to her?

 
~~~

 
After finally gathering enough courage to break up with Warren almost two months ago, Buffy felt that she had learned a valuable lesson. No matter how the person may look, talk, or act at first glance, he wasn't necessarily the real deal. Men like Warren were out there, and it was impossible to know until the relationship became more than casual. Buffy realized that there was always a chance that she could wind up hurt.

And I won't let that ever happen again, Buffy silently swore, moving from the seat at her desk and lying down on the bed.

Because she would rather be alone than be hurt again.

I'm not some stupid, naive girl anymore, she thought. I know that love isn't blind and that love won't conquer all - I mean, how can I think anything else?

Although Buffy managed to get out of the relationship before things could get much worse, her friends could tell that she wasn't the same woman she had been nine months ago, before Warren. She had set emotional walls around her heart, refusing to trust another man, fearing he would break her already fragile heart.

I just can't take that again.

 
~~~

 
After arriving back home with his new belongings later that afternoon, William first moved his older desk into Emily-Grace's room. He then brought the new one inside his along with his sister's assistance, who was only too happy to help move the desk into her bedroom. William's new desk fit in with the rest of his room perfectly, somehow seeming to make his room appear brighter and more inviting.

William sat down in front of the desk, his eyes looking from one end to the other. Suddenly he felt an urge to carve his initials in the desk, something that would make it his forever. He stood and picked up the penknife from his dresser and went to work, carefully carving each initial clearly and elegantly.

W. A. S.

After carving his last initial, William looked at his handiwork and smiled. He was still unsure about what had caused this spur-of-the-moment action, but he did not regret it one bit.

William then set his mind on moving his belongings from the old desk into the new one, which would be quite simple since the desk drawers were much larger than his old one. After placing several objects on the top of the desk, he pulled open the bottom drawer and frowned when he gazed down into the bottom of the drawer.

"That's odd," he muttered to himself.

The panel of wood on the bottom was an entirely different color than the rest of the desk. It was a brown several shades lighter and the grain of the wood went against the rest of the uniform look.

One would think that a customer would be informed of this, William thought. Perhaps it is just an error in this one desk.

However, upon closer inspection, he saw a slight gap between the panel of wood and the actual sides of the drawer. William picked up a letter opener from the top of the desk and slid it down the side, pushing it out and lifting up the board. The panel came up and William picked it up, a smile quickly appearing on his face.

"A false bottom, how marvelous," William said. "This is the perfect place to keep my journal." This way no one other than himself, and Emily-Grace if he wished to let her in on this secret, would be able to read his thoughts and writings.

He reached over and picked up the new journal from his bookcase, noticing how his fingertips still tingled with the mysterious warmth as he opened the cover and stared at the blank page in front of him. William had noticed earlier that the journal he gave to his sister did not make him feel like this, which led him to suspect that there must be something extraordinary about the journal he chose first.

Casting those thoughts aside, William picked up his pen, dipped it into the nearby inkwell, and began writing.

 
 
~~~

 
Buffy began opening the drawers, realizing that when she bought the desk she didn't even check to see what kind of condition they were in. For all she knew, the bottoms of the drawers could be completely rotted out, and Buffy would be stuck with a faulty desk. However, when she looked inside, she saw that all four desk drawers were in tip-top condition.

"This must be some desk to have lasted for over one hundred years," she told herself, as she peered into each drawer, wondering how it had managed to last this long.

The desk was made out of a dark wood, most likely either cherry or oak. She also thought that there was a stain of some type on the wood as well; however, since she had no idea what they did in 1882 to protect their furniture, she was only guessing. Surprisingly though, when she looked inside the bottom drawer, she noticed that the wood was a much lighter color.

"That's weird," she whispered to herself, wondering why a desk of this stature would have a screwed-up paint job in one drawer.

Buffy hit the bottom with her knuckles a couple of times, hearing what she assumed was the sound of something hollow. Oh, wouldn't it just be awesome if there were wads of cash hidden in this thing? That would definitely make this purchase worth it, Buffy thought to herself as she tried to pry up the plank of wood.

Using her fingernails, Buffy managed to pry up the piece of wood. She pulled it out of the desk drawer entirely, eager to see what was underneath.

"Well, this is interesting," she muttered, pulling out an old, black-leather journal.

Thinking back on it, what Buffy found most odd about this was after all that shoving, pushing, and moving the desk about, especially trying to get it up the stairs to her apartment earlier that morning, she should have heard something that small shifting about. The journal didn't take up the entire space below by any means, and Buffy should have heard it moving to and fro earlier that day.

Really weird, she thought as she sat back down in her chair, holding the journal between her hands. Opening the front page, Buffy was once again surprised to see actual writing. The script was elegant and very neat, the ink dark and surprisingly not faded out over the course of time.

September 18, 1882, the first entry began.

"Weird, that's today's date as well," Buffy mumbled to herself. "Well, obviously, except for the fact that it's just off by 122 years." While beginning to read the written entry, she stood up from the chair and lay down on her bed, her eyes scanning over the words written on the first page.

 
September 18, 1882

 
Today I went out intending to simply purchase a writing journal for Emily-Grace and myself. However, as I gazed across the street, I found myself captivated by, of all things, a desk in the furniture store window. Before I could help myself, I purchased the desk. I gave my old desk to Emily-Grace, who was only too happy to accept it. After all, she has been requesting one from Mother for months. Things worked out splendidly then; she was thrilled to receive my old desk, and I was delighted to have a new one. I have just discovered a false bottom in the bottom drawer, and I intend to store my journal there in order to keep my thoughts and writings private.

 
Buffy turned the page, expecting more from this mysterious person, who was obviously W.A.S. When she discovered that the following page was blank, she quickly leafed through the rest of the journal, looking for more entries. When she found none, Buffy sat back with a puzzled look on her face.

"Huh?"

 
 
TBC...





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