Staring up at the club across the street as she stood, slightly shivering with William’s cum draining out of her and staining her thong, she thought Oh yeah, I just fucked my brother. Promptly, she shuddered at the thought, and the memory…
Oh God, had it been mind-blowing. And oh God how she’d wanted him. Truth be told, when she saw William with Alysha’s hands all over him, she’d felt the green eyed monster rear its ugly head. And here she’d thought it would have been such a fantastic idea And in her mind, it had been at the time. She really didn’t think it’d bother her much. She thought maybe she’d shake off some of that damn hero-worship she’d been doing since she arrived back in William’s life.
He never knew really how she looked up to him. Admired him. He was so…focused. Successful. Not that she wasn’t in her own way, but now look at her. She was a mess. A complete and utter mess. She had no job, no apartment of her own, no friends in L.A., no fucking life. No wonder she’d latched onto William. He had it all together, always had. Knew what he wanted and went after it. She knew what she wanted until something else grabbed her attention and then she thought she wanted that until something else came along and grabbed her attention….
It was a wonder really that she’d managed to finish school and get a job. That she’d then promptly lost because oh yes, she fucked a married man. William granted her pardon because she didn’t know he was married, but in Buffy’s mind, she couldn’t grant herself that pardon. Not much anyway. It sounded so seedy to her I had an affair with a married man…but I didn’t know he was married! Okay, maybe not so much seedy as just downright stupid.
But, that was her all over wasn’t it? One terrible choice after another. No wonder her mother had been so disappointed in her – why shouldn’t she have been? She was a colossal screw up. And now, to make matters worse, just when she’d thought she was on the straight and narrow, with William as her guide, she’d gone and fucked him. She’d gone and had sex with her brother. Okay, stepbrother, but still! Against a wall in a club. How romantic. How sweet. How disgusting.
Her phone ringing in her purse jarred her from her thoughts and she reached in to answer it. It was William of course. Who else would call someone as fucked up as she was except for him? How was it that when he looked at her he saw someone wonderful? He’d made her feel like a Queen in the two short days she’d been with him – was it two? One? She wasn’t sure anymore. All Buffy knew was that she didn’t want to talk to him. Couldn’t really. Chewing her bottom lip, Buffy weighed her options. Well, she could always get a room for the night and use her credit card. She still had pretty good credit on that at least. Yes, that’s what she was going to do. Get a room for the night and think…plan. Plan how she was going to get out of this mess.
William was going mad. Completely and utterly mad. After he’d tried to call her and she hadn’t answered, he thought maybe she left her phone at home. So, he’d gone home, hoping against hope that she was there. She wasn’t. So, he’d gone out, driving up, down and around the city going as far and as wide as he could hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
She was nowhere to be found and he hated to admit it, but he was near tears. What had happened, they could figure it out, but first, he just wanted her safe.
Burying his face in his hands, William prayed to whatever power would listen that Buffy was all right and that she’d come waltzing through the door at any minute.
Then his phone rang.
Lunging for it, he opened it quickly. “Buffy?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Never had her voice filled him with such relief.
“Buffy, where are you?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why the hell not?” he demanded, his voice rising.
“You know why,” she whispered.
“Buffy, please, come home. Just come back here. We don’t have to talk tonight; we don’t have to do anything--”
“Hasn’t it already kind of been done? I kind of really don’t want to have the postmortem on this one.”
“You know we…okay, we don’t have to. At least not tonight--”
“Try not ever, William!”
“Fine, then, not ever.” Lie, lie, lie!
“You’re lying.”
How did she do that?
“Buffy, I’m going out of my mind with worry here--”
“I’m in a hotel, I’m fine.”
“Where?”
“Yeah, cause that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna tell you,” she said sarcastically.
“Fair enough.”
“I know you must think I’m pretty easy--”
“I don’t think that at all!” he shouted.
“How could you not? Okay, you know what? The postmortem starts here and I just . . . can’t.”
“Buffy, I am begging you to come home.”
“No,” and she hung up.
Resisting the urge to fling his phone against the wall, William let out a cry of frustration. He’d fucked it all up now, hadn’t he? What happened to all that will power? What happened to his firm stance that he was most definitely not going to live out his fantasies and make love to her and just. . . .Love her. Was he really so under it that he found he couldn’t control himself at all?
Yes. Quite simply, yes.
And what was she thinking? Was she thinking it was her fault? Did she hate him? He just wanted to talk to her, work it out…God, what if he lost her? What if she walked out of his life and he never got the chance to try? What if she hated him? What would he do? How could he live without her now? He’d tasted her, felt the warmth of her embrace, felt . . . something that he so desperately wanted to be love coming from her and God; she was so far away from him now.
Hadn’t she just told him that afternoon that she felt like a screw up? That she was trying to get her feet planted on the ground and make the right choices? Buffy no doubt felt this was a wrong choice… and wasn’t it?
How did something that was supposed to be so wrong, feel so right?
So, Giles, how are you going to fix this one?