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"I trust you young ladies both slept well last night," Giles said as he walked into the dining room where Buffy and Willow were having breakfast.

"We did," Buffy replied, though it was far from the truth. Even with as tired as she'd been, Buffy had found sleep almost impossible after the events of the night. She had tossed and turned, finding any sleep at all only in short, fitful dozes.

"Did William find you last night?" Giles asked. "He came by around nine o'clock, asking for you. I told him you were at the party."

"He was there," Buffy replied. "But he didn't find me—he found Cecily."

Giles gasped slightly. "Cecily Underwood? Are you certain? He seemed quite determined to speak to you specifically."

"Well, apparently that was before he got all lip-locky with Cecily," Buffy replied. "Because that's what he was doing there."

"Are you positive that's what you saw?" Giles asked with a frown.

"Yes. It's not really something I could forget, Giles," Buffy replied.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Giles said. "If I had any idea William was going to do that, I never would have sent him. But he seemed so desperate to see you…"

"It's not your fault," Buffy told him. "You had no way of knowing William was going to be such a…" Buffy frowned. "Well, such a seventeen-year-old boy."

"Still, I am sorry. I'm sorry that you're hurting."

"Thanks, Giles, but I really am doing okay. And Willow and I are going shopping later, so I can just spend these blues right away."

Giles had been around long enough to recognize the lie for what it was, but he let it stand for the time being. "All right then. But if you need me for anything, I am here."

"I know."

He patted her shoulder. "I have some work to do, but you can call me if you need to. Have a good day, both of you."

"Thanks Giles—you, too."

Giles walked out of the dining room, his brow creasing as he tried to figure out exactly how William had gone from standing on his doorstep desperate to see Buffy to kissing Cecily.

Something didn't add up.

*** *** ***

"William, darling, are you in here?"

William rolled over at the sound of his mother's voice on the other side of his bedroom door. He guessed it must be Sunday since she'd called and told him that was when she'd be back, though the past couple of days had been pretty much a blur. He said nothing, not wishing to speak to anyone.

"William? Sweetheart?" The door opened, his mother poking her head in. She gasped when she saw her son, hurrying over to the side of the bed, sitting down. "Are you all right?"

"Not particularly," William muttered.

"What happened? Are you ill?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

His mother looked him over, taking in his disheveled appearance and red-rimmed eyes. "You've broken up with your girlfriend, haven't you?"

"She never wants to see me again," William replied. "Never…"

"Oh my poor boy," his mother said, reaching out to stroke his hair. "What happened?"

"I don't know. She thinks I thought something that I don't think at all, and I tried to explain, but she wouldn't listen, and now she's just gone…" William replied, a lump forming in his throat.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know she meant a lot to you. And that the two of you were…very close."

William sat up, looking at his mother in suspicion. "What do you mean by that?"

"William, Kathleen found a pair of women's underwear in your sheets quite a few days ago when she was doing the wash. I assumed they were not yours."

William blushed a deep red. "Mother, I…I'm sorry, I didn't…"

"Dearest, it's all right," his mother said with a small smile. "I'm not going to lie and say it puts me at ease thinking of my teenaged son in a physical relationship, but I'm not so naïve as to think such things don't happen. I was young once myself, you know. I was seventeen when I met your father…"

William's face went from red to pale. "Mother! Please!"

She held up her hands. "All right, I won't say anything else. Just letting you know you weren't really pulling anything over on your mother, young man."

The blush returned. "I didn't mean for things to get the way they did with Buffy. It just…"

"Happened. I know, William. I do need to ask, though—did you use protection?"

William squirmed slightly, unable to believe he was actually having this conversation with his mother. And how was she saying these things with a completely normal expression? "Yes, we did. Buffy uses birth control pills." He looked away from her as he spoke.

"At least you were being responsible. That's the most a mother can really hope for, I suppose." She patted her son's leg. "When did you break up?"

"Wednesday. I tried to find her Friday and tell her how I feel, hoping I'd get her back, but she didn't want to listen. Didn't even want to have me around."

"What did you do?"

"I upset her, I guess, but she misunderstood what I was saying and wouldn't let me explain."

"If it was a misunderstanding, can't you just talk to her, tell her what really happened?"

"Tried. She wouldn't let me." William sighed. "She's not interested in me, Mother. Not anymore. There's a boy back in California, I suppose she still has feelings for him."

"Did she tell you this?"

"No."

His mother frowned. "So how do you know?"

"I just know. I really don't wish to talk about it."

"William, honey, I really believe you need to speak to Buffy, see what you can do to straighten all this out."

"I tried! She won't listen. How can I talk to her if she won't have anything to do with me?"

She pushed his hair away from his forehead. "Try one more time, William. Perhaps she has softened in her anger towards you."

"I've tried enough. I knew she wouldn't stick around anyway. Why should she? I'm just poor, pathetic William the Bloody Awful Poet."

"You are far from pathetic."

"You have to say that 'cause you're my mum," William muttered.

"No, I don't. And I'm not. I'm saying that because I'm the mother of a wonderful boy. And really, I do think you should try to speak to Buffy again."

William looked away. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. How are Winifred and Wesley?"

His mother frowned, but decided not to press the subject any further. The boy could be as stubborn as his father sometimes…

*** *** ***

The first thing Buffy noticed when she showed up at school Monday was how many people looked at her and laughed. She had looked in the mirror before she'd left the house and knew she didn't have anything embarrassing on her. So why were they doing that?

She got her answer when she walked into the building. The halls were covered in papers—photocopied police reports, tabloid stories, and pictures. She snatched one picture off the wall of her in a particularly compromising position and tears formed in her eyes before she crumpled it into a ball, throwing it to the ground in anger. She marched over to her locker, stopping short when she saw what was written on it.

Whore. In bright, red letters.

"Look over there, it's Slutty Summers," she heard someone sneer from behind her. "I heard she was a porn star back in the States."

"I heard she's a total nymphomaniac and tries to have sex with every bloke she sees."

"I bet she has all sorts of diseases."

Buffy refused to turn and look around, even as the girls burst into a fit of giggles. She opened her locker and got out her books before shutting it back and walking with her head up high to her first class.

They would not break her.

*** *** ***

Buffy hadn't been in her first class of the day very long at all before she was called to the office. She sighed, preparing to pack her bags for another suspension—or expulsion. If history had taught her anything, it was that the school administration would always place the blame on her, even when in fact, she was the victim.

She stopped short, her eyes widening, when she walked into the headmaster's office and saw that Cecily was there as well. The headmaster looked up, waving Buffy in. "Please, Miss Summers, have a seat."

Buffy did as she was told, inching to the far side of her chair so she could be as far as possible from Cecily. Just being in the same room with the brunette made her feel ill.

The headmaster cleared his throat, leaning slightly forward with his hands clasped on his desk. "Now, I know that you're both aware of the incident that occurred this morning regarding a redecorating of our halls."

Cecily flipped her hair. "I certainly don't see why I have to be here for that. If Buffy feels the need to advertise her 'talents' in our school…"

"Silence, Miss Underwood!" the headmaster snapped. Cecily slunk back in her seat, fear obvious on her face now. "You are here because surveillance tapes from last night clearly show you not only as the culprit of this heinous, inexcusable prank, but also breaking into the building in order to do it. These are actions we will not condone at our institution. Furthermore, your continued harassment as well as tendency to display personal, private files—that you no doubt obtained in an unacceptable manner—pertaining to Miss Summers has put you and your family in a position to face serious legal action, which would bring nothing but negative attention to our school and distraction to the other students."

"It…it was just a joke!" Cecily protested. "It wasn't a big deal."

"It was cruel, Miss Underwood," the headmaster snapped. "Some jokes are simply not humorous, and this is one of them. What you have done to Miss Summers is horrendous, as is your complete lack of remorse. The qualities you have displayed are not ones that we look for in the girls we educate here. There is an officer waiting outside to escort you to gather your things and then off of campus. You are not welcome back."

Cecily gaped. "I'm…I'm expelled?"

"Yes," the headmaster responded simply.

"You…you can't do this! I'll never get into Cambridge with this on my record!"

"You should have thought of your ambitions before jeopardizing them all with your unintelligent actions, Miss Underwood. It appears that your continued torment of Miss Summers was more important to you than anything else, and you shall now pay the price for such behavior. You are dismissed."

"No! This isn't fair! Buffy attacked me last week, and she only got a three day suspension! How can I get expelled for this?" Cecily screeched.

"Last Wednesday was Miss Summers' first disciplinary problem since arriving here, and in light of recent events, I have no doubt in my mind that she was provoked. This is far from yours, Miss Underwood. Now please, you can either leave campus under your own power or you can be forcibly removed. It's your choice."

Cecily stood up, flipping her hair haughtily. "Fine. I'll leave." She turned to Buffy, her face and voice menacing. "Don't think I'll let you get away with this."

"Miss Underwood!" the headmaster exclaimed. "That threat you just made to Miss Summers is noted should her guardian, Mr. Giles, decide to pursue legal actions regarding your continued harassment of Miss Summers."

Cecily blinked. "What?"

"Means if you don't leave me alone, we're going to sue your skanky ass," Buffy replied with a smug smile.

"And under such circumstances, the matter of breaking into the school may merit further attention," the headmaster added. "In which case, time in jail may be a very real possibility."

At that, Cecily said nothing more, simply paling as she hurried from the office.

"Well, I can't say that didn't just make my morning—'cause it did—but can I ask why I was called to the office?" Buffy asked once Cecily was gone.

"I spoke this morning to Mr. Giles regarding this incident. He said you may wish to be present for the disciplinary actions against Miss Underwood."

"And he was way right," Buffy said. She cleared her throat. "Thank you."

"You were made a victim here, Miss Summers, and for that I am deeply sorry. This is not the sort of environment we wish for our students here. Whatever your problems may have been in the past, you have been an exemplary student since your first day here. Your grades and your attitude have been impressive, and I have noticed in you a kindness that is not present in Miss Underwood or any of her social group. Where they tormented Miss Rosenberg, you have befriended her, bringing out a marked improvement in the girl's mood. These are things we recognize here and reward. Miss Underwood's behavior was nothing above that of a common hoodlum, and that we do not reward. And please, do not hesitate to come to me should anyone harass you further regarding this or any matter. We shall have no tolerance for that at all."

Buffy blinked for a moment. She was a model student? Whoa… "Thank you," she said softly.

"It is my pleasure, Miss Summers. You are a very bright girl, and we are proud to have you here at our fine institution. Now please return to class."

Buffy stood. "Thank you again," she said quickly before exiting the office.

She walked back to class with a smile on her face.

*** *** ***

Buffy went straight to Giles's library after school, finding him there at his desk. "The strangest thing happened to me today," she said, getting his attention. "Granted, this morning as pretty strange finding my life's history plastered to the walls, but after that, I was called into the office to watch Cecily Underwood expelled. Any thoughts on that?"

"I did warn the Underwoods," Giles replied. "See Buffy, I give a rather large charitable donation every year to the school. Should Cecily have been allowed to remain there, those donations would cease."

"You blackmailed the school to get Cecily out? For me? You're like the coolest dad ever!" Buffy exclaimed, running over to Giles and throwing her arms around him.

Giles's smile was almost embarrassed as he returned Buffy's sudden embrace. "Yes, well, I couldn't allow her to continue in such a manner. It was interfering with your education."

Buffy pulled up, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Bah. You did it 'cause you wanted to get back at Cecily for picking on me."

"Yes, well, I suppose that may have had something to do with it," Giles replied, taking off his glasses.

"See—the best." Buffy kissed his cheek, making him blush. "Really, thank you. For everything you've done."

"I'm happy to, Buffy. And Cecily did have it coming."

"Boy did she ever." Buffy stepped back. "I'll let you get back to your work now. See you later, Giles."

"All right, Buffy. Let me know if you need me for anything."

"I will."

Giles watched Buffy go, hoping this was only the first of things to get better in her life. The other thing he was wishing would correct itself may take more time, but as of that afternoon, steps had been made. He'd just have to cross his fingers and pray that everything worked out for the best.

*** *** ***

See—I am working on fixing stuff.

I'm going to try this one more time. I have asked and asked people not to hound me about the angst. (Just to clarify this now, I'm not addressing those who write things such as "Oh, this is so sad! Please get them back together soon!" You guys are fine.) Most of you have respected my wishes, and I appreciate that very much. Some of you, however, have not. So here's yet another plea that I'm tired of making—stop whining at me. It does nothing but annoy me. I have this story planned out, and I'm not going to change it to suit your whims. I can't. Many readers request things be added, taken out, or changed in my stories, and I cannot possibly please everyone—so I work to please myself. Personally, I think that stories are better that include a little conflict as it makes the resolution stronger. When I decided that this story was not going to be the short fic I had planned, I had to add some conflict to strengthen the story over all, and I have done this. I don't believe that it is too much, and as the author, I know what it's working towards, and I can assure you, it's not what I believe you're fearing.

Furthermore, a few of you have expressed that should the angst not stop, you will cease to read. While honestly this is nothing short of attempted blackmail, I do have this to say about it—if that is how you feel, by all means, stop reading. I'd love for you to stick it out because I think in the end, you will like it, but for those of you who cannot handle any angst at all or feel the need to tell me that they think the story is no longer as good or they aren't liking it as much anymore, then by all means, for your own sake, don't read anymore. I'm not forcing angst on anyone, and while some people are enjoying it, I realize others aren't. But here's what I ask—don't complain to me about it anymore. If you want to stop reading, stop reading. Don't go off on me about it before you do. It's not appreciated, and I'm beginning to find it rather insulting. I have put a considerable amount of time and effort into trying to tell you a story and have asked for nothing in return. In light of that, you could show me a little more respect than complaints and demands for what the story "should be." The response to this story has been enormous, and because of this I have tried to keep the updates regular and the quality of writing as high as I can, and to be lectured for my efforts makes me feel very unappreciated by certain readers. Stop reading the story if you feel you must, but please, show a little respect for me and my efforts.

That being said, I am very grateful for the ones of you who have hung in there. I do understand that you're all biting your nails over the last few chapters, and I appreciate your patience and your willingness to allow me to tell my story in a way that I believe will be satisfactory for the readers as well as for myself. I promise you, there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I won't let your patience go without reward. Thank you.





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