She couldn't find a reason to celebrate—not this year, and not ever again, as far as she could see. This was supposed to be the season of hope, and all of that had long since left for her. The things she wished for could never be wrapped up and placed beneath a tree, and Buffy didn't see the point in pretending otherwise.
She didn't try to pretend at all anymore. In the months since William's departure, Buffy had seen more and more of her husband's true nature until she could no longer do anything but accept she was married to a monster. His cruelty and complete lack of compassion made her wonder sometimes if he were even human. Yet she was inextricably tied to him forever.
No, there was no room in Buffy's life for hope, no matter what the season.
Instead, she planned to go through the next few days as she did every other day—alone, trapped inside a house where she could do nothing but waste away, her once bright spirit crushed. She had no family, no friends, and while she had once wished for more time with Liam, she was now grateful for the amount of time her husband spent away, even when she didn't see him for days.
Especially when she didn't see him for days.
So when she came downstairs two days before Christmas to find the entire floor decorated, Buffy didn't know what to make of it. The lights, the tree—things she associated with warm, home, and love—seemed so out of place in the mansion she'd come to regard as no more than a prison.
Buffy found Liam in his home office, already working. She knocked hesitantly on the door, unsure of whether or not this would be a time when Liam would allow the intrusion.
She waited a moment, her breath stilling, before Liam called for her to come in. Buffy peeked slowly around the door as she opened it.
Liam spared her only a glance before he looked back down at the papers on his desk. "Make it quick, Buff. I have important things to deal with today."
"I…I just wanted to ask why the house was decorated."
"Because it's Christmas," Liam replied, giving her a second glance, this one filled with annoyance. "You should have seen to it, being the supposed lady of the house, but once again, you proved yourself to be lazy and useless."
"I didn't think you would even want them, Liam," Buffy said in her own defense.
Liam grew visibly more exasperated. "Well, I couldn't exactly make a good impression tonight without them, now could I?"
Confusion marring her features, Buffy frowned. "Tonight? What's happening tonight?"
At her question, Liam sighed heavily. "That's the trouble with marrying the hot ones—they never have to brains to go with the looks. I told you weeks ago that we're having a Christmas party here tonight."
"No, you didn't," Buffy insisted. Surely she would have remembered that, especially since the parties Liam gave were the ones she dreaded the most. There was no escaping those.
"Yes, I did. You were probably just too fucking drunk to know what was going on again. Come here."
Buffy swallowed, then nervously approached her husband. She hesitated by his chair, and Liam grabbed her arm to roughly pull her into his lap. His hand was bruising-tight around her arm, but Buffy didn't struggle, knowing from experience that would only make things worse for her. Liam leaned in as he spoke to her, his voice dark and menacing against her ear. "Tonight is important, Buffy. I've got to impress some very important people, show them I'm worth putting a little faith into. If I lose all their respect for me because they see what a cheap whore I married, I will make you suffer. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," Buffy replied, the tears she was fighting threatening to choke the words.
"Good girl." Liam released her arm, following up his painful grip with a deceptively-affectionate kiss on Buffy's cheek. "Now, why don't you run along and buy something new for tonight? It's Christmas, so you can go with red, but don't make it obvious what a tramp you really are, got it?"
Her eyes lowered, Buffy only nodded in response, and Liam nudged her off his lap before delivering a swat to her backside. "Run along now."
Without another word to her husband, Buffy hurried out of the room.
Several hours later, Buffy returned to Liam's mansion. She'd been lucky enough to find a place that could fit her in to do her hair and nails on such short notice, knowing Liam would expect her to have done so for the party. Whenever he showed off his house, he always wanted all of his possessions to shine their brightest.
However, when she pulled into the garage, she saw a strange car parked inside. While it was an older car, it had obviously been cared for by its owner. Yet it was also long and black, a far cry from the shiny new sports cars all of Liam's friends seemed to drive.
She inspected it for a few moments, trying to find any clues to who the driver may be in order to satisfy her curiosity, but soon gave up and retrieved her bags from her own trunk before heading inside.
It was there that she discovered the owner of the mystery car.
Two people she didn't recognize sat on the couch in the living room. The woman, with her old-fashioned dress and the man in all black—offset by his bleached-white hair—seemed so out of place there. Buffy almost began to panic, wondering if they were intruders, until the man turned to face her.
Buffy saw his eyes and gasped.
William.
His presence there, the way he looked—the woman—so many questions rushed through Buffy's mind, yet she only one seemed to be able to make its way to her mouth. "What are you doing here?"
William smirked at her, a cold, almost-sneer she'd never seen on him before. "What's the matter Step-Mummy Dearest? Not happy to see your boy home for Christmas?"
As he spoke, Buffy noted another change in William. He'd cultivated his accent, twisting the British tint he had picked up in his time at school into something rougher.
The man looking at her now was clearly not the William she remembered, yet even as she found herself a little frightened by what she saw, she couldn't help the way he still made her body tingle either.
"I just didn't think you'd…does your father know you're here?"
He smirked again, this time with his tongue tucked behind his teeth, and Buffy wondered if he had any idea how sexy he looked.
Then, she caught the spark in his eye and knew he did.
"Yeah, he knows. The old bastard wanted to throw me out, but then he came to the conclusion he didn't exactly want me crashing his little party tonight all disgruntled-like."
Buffy's mouth moved up and down, yet she couldn't seem to get any words to come out of it. The moment was so surreal that she wondered if she were having some very bizarre dream. William looking the way he did now and standing up to Liam? That couldn't be real, could it?
Before she could think about it too much, the strange woman leaned forward and wrapped herself around William. "You're being a naughty dog, my Spike," she said, following her words with a dog-like growl against his ear. "You didn't introduce me to Daddy's pretty little dolly."
"Right. How careless of me, pet." He brushed a kiss against the woman's face and the sight made a sick feeling turn in Buffy's stomach. Seeing William with another woman was affecting her more than Buffy wanted it to—and did that woman just call him Spike?
"This is my girl, Drusilla," Spike said, his arm going around Drusilla's waist as he spoke and his chest puffing out a little.
Drusilla gave Buffy a smug look as she placed her hand on Spike's bicep, and Buffy knew without a doubt the other woman knew exactly what had transpired between her and William that summer. Buffy felt embarrassed—exposed—and more than a little heartbroken to think about him sharing that with another woman.
"It's…it's nice to meet you," Buffy said, forcing herself to remain composed. She knew, however, that couldn't last long, and she quickly added, "I need to go get ready for the party."
Spike looked at her, a cold, cruel expression on his face that made Buffy think for the first time maybe he did look like his father. "Yeah, you should. Run along now."
Without another word to either of them, Buffy rushed out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom. She tossed her shopping bags on the bed, not caring enough to lay out her dress so it wouldn't wrinkle.
She sunk down to the edge of bed, fighting back tears. She'd had her make-up done at the salon as well, and she certainly didn't need to ruin it now. But after what had happened downstairs, it was nearly impossible for her to remain composed.
Seeing William with another woman hurt—that she couldn't dispute and wouldn't even try to. However, that hadn't been the worst part at all. No, the worst part had been seeing him. Spike. Buffy knew it wasn't mere vanity that made her think her rejection had pushed William towards becoming the man she'd just met downstairs.
She'd wanted him to recover from the blow she dealt to his ego, but she'd never wanted him to change, especially not so drastically. She couldn't see any of sweet, unassuming William in the punk currently in her living room. To think what she'd done to him had done so much damage that he had to harden in order to keep going…
No, Buffy told herself as she dabbed under her eyes with her fingers. It wasn't only her who had done that to him. She couldn't deny her part in it, but she couldn't blame herself completely for what William had become either.
But you pushed him over the edge. If you'd given him love then, he wouldn't be this way now…
Buffy hated that voice, hated the way it grew darker as time went on. She didn't want to blame herself for this. What else could she even have done? No matter what her feelings for William may have been, the never could've been together—not as long as she was so inextricably tied to his father. She'd been trying to act in his best interest when she'd pushed him away.
Besides, he had a girlfriend now. A gorgeous girlfriend at that, Buffy noted, unable to deny her definite jealousy of the other woman. There was no reason to think Spike and Drusilla were anything but happy together, and perhaps this new, tougher persona he'd adopted was a good thing. Buffy knew as well as anyone that it was easier to survive if you grew hard on the inside. As much as she'd liked William when he was quiet and kind, it was probably better for him to put walls up to keep himself save. When you made yourself vulnerable , you only got hurt, and even if she'd taught him that with a harsh lesson, maybe it would be better for him in the long run that she had.
Buffy could make it all sound logical in her head, yet try as she might, all she could think as she got ready for the party was that she'd hurt someone who had never done a thing to deserve it.
I hope everyone stayed with me after I took a little break. I'm hoping to start this fic up with a regular schedule again and post on Thursdays, but I can't make any promises that it will be every week. On top of my busy schedule, my muse hasn't been particularly cooperative recently, and I haven't actually felt like writing. I'm trying to push past it, but it's difficult, and sometimes I'll just sit there for hours with nothing more than a sentence written. But do know that I don't plan to just abandon my stories, and I'll do my best to keep writing.
Thanks for reading.