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Title: Acting The Part
Author: Pattyanne
snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS
characters belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks.
Rating: Up to NC-17
Summary: AU. William St. James is
an actor in a hit television show. While
appearing at a fan convention, he meets
Buffy and her six year old daughter, Melanie

AN: Hey, check out the pretty picture vamps
made for the story:
www.offangsandfairytales.com/actingthepartmain.html





Part twenty-three...



Buffy placed a bowl of cereal in front of Melanie, then
sat down opposite her. She dumped a spoonful of
sugar into her coffee, stirring it for a moment before
replacing the spoon on the table.

"Your dad called last night," she said casually, taking
a sip of her coffee.

Melanie just kept on eating.


Inhaling a deep breath, Buffy went on. "He wants to take
you out for some dinner tonight and give you your birth-
day gifts. Won't that be fun?"

"Uh-huh," her daughter nodded, chasing stray Cheerios
around the outer rim of the bowl with her spoon. "Are you
coming, too?"

Buffy hadn't expected that particular question, and it
threw her for a moment. "No, sweetie, not tonight. This
is just for you and your dad," she said, hoping the child
would let it go at that.

Melanie looked up. "Then you'll be all by yourself."

Well, there was no getting around it. Buffy knew that if
Melanie thought her mother was indeed sitting around
on her own she'd fret about it.

"Actually...William asked me out to dinner, so..."

Buffy braced herself for a protest of some kind, but
Melanie surprised her by smiling brightly. "Are you
going to go?" she asked eagerly.

Buffy sat back and studied her daughter's expressive
face. "Yes," she said slowly. "But I'll make sure I'm
home before you."

"Okay." Melanie climbed down from her chair and
ran upstairs to brush her teeth.

It wasn't difficult to figure out what was going through
the little girl's mind. Melanie was still heavily into the
notion of William taking over the usually vacant position
of 'Daddy' in her life, but in order for THAT to happen,
Buffy had to be on the bandwagon as well.

Using the child's simple logic: Mommy + William+
going out alone on a date = falling in love, which would
lead quickly to marriage, the end result would be
'brand new daddy'.

But as much as Buffy was beginning to warm to the
idea herself, she wasn't ready to pin her dreams on it.
She wasn't even certain exactly how she felt about him
yet.

Just because her heart began beating double time
in her chest every time she saw him, and chills raced
up and down her spine when she heard his voice, and
her body turned to pliable clay in his hands when he
touched her....well, all that didn't necessarily mean that
she was in love with him.

She'd only known him for a very short time, less than
ten days. How could she possibly be in love with him?

"I can't be," she said firmly, clearing the dishes off the
table and carrying them out to the kitchen. She twisted
the faucets on and waited for the water to run hot, then
squirted a glob of Ivory dish soap into the sink and let it
fill. "It's way too soon to even think about something
like that."

Turning off the water, she dried her hands on a paper
towel and left the dishes to soak, then took Melanie's
lunch box out of the fridge and went to wait for her at
the bottom of the stairs.

And it wasn't as though he'd come out and said anything
about love to her. Yes, he'd MADE love to her, wonderfully
passionate love, and he'd said all the right things as he did
so, but the only one he'd openly declared himself to
was Melanie.

Of course....SHE hadn't said anything either. Maybe he
was waiting for her, for some signal that she was ready
to be responsive to such a declaration.

He'd admitted that he'd never been in a serious relationship
before meeting her. That meant that he did indeed consider
their relationship to be a 'serious' one, didn't it?

And if that was true, how serious was it for him? How
serious did she want it to be? What if his idea of serious
wasn't the same as her's. What if.....

"What if you stop asking 'what if'?" she ordered herself,
shaking off the introspective mood she'd fallen into, and
smiling at her daughter as she skipped down the stairs.

Melanie picked up her lunch box and backpack,
waiting on the porch for Buffy to lock up the house. She
hopped an imaginary hopscotch board across the lawn
to the driveway, then climbed into the car and plopped
herself down in her booster seat.

Buffy buckled her in, handing her the pair of bright yellow
plastic dark glasses shaped like daisies she'd bought to
shield the child's eyes from the bright morning glare of
the sun.

In the driver's seat, she keyed the ignition, then glanced
at Melanie in the rear view mirror. "Flaps down?"

"Check!" her daughter responded brightly.

"Landing gear up?"

"Check!"

"Ready to rock?"

"Ready to roll!"

Turning up the radio, Buffy backed out of the driveway and
headed for Sunnydale Elementary School.



*****************************************


She moved through the day without once losing the
sense of giddy expectancy she'd woken up with.

The prospect of going out with William alone kept her
emotions churning, giving her a boost of adrenalin that
kept her moving and busy.

Turning over the store to Willow and Anya at noon, she
ran down to the salon on the first floor and had her hair
washed, conditioned and trimmed. While she was there,
she decided to splurge and have her nails done as well.

She picked Melanie up at 2:30, listening to her
chatter all the way home about a prospective field trip to
visit a real farm. Apparently, the opportunity to milk a cow
was going to be made available to the children, as well
as the chance to see baby chicks hatching.

Buffy made all the right responses, even though her mind
was only halfway attentive. She promised to sign the
permission slip immediately upon arriving home after
Melanie informed her that the children who returned them
promptly would earn a smiley face sticker on their weekly
progress chart. If enough of these stickers were
accumulated in the allotted time, they could be ex-
changed for small treats from the student store on Friday
afternoon.

At four o'clock, she took her daughter upstairs and
gave her a bath, then supervised her choice of wardrobe.

By five thirty, she had Melanie dried and dressed, her
hair neatly brushed.

Parking her in front of the television, Buffy popped a
video into the VCR and dashed back upstairs to bathe.

She pinned her hair up and sank into a tub of steaming,
fragrant water. Too on edge to linger, she washed
herself from top to bottom with rose scented
body wash, then shaved her underarms and legs to a
satiny smoothness.

Pulling the plug, she let the water drain out and
wrapped herself in a towel She stood at the sink and
brushed her teeth, rinsing with a peppermint smelling
mouthwash.

Back in her bedroom, she made up her face...giving
herself a more dramatic 'evening' look...and brushed
her hair till it gleamed in the lamplight.

"Not bad," she said to her reflection when she was
done. "For an old mom, you look pretty darn good."

She gave herself one last smile in the mirror before
diving into her closet for the 'little black dress' that had
been hanging in the back of it for months. She'd bought
it on impulse, with no clue as to when she might have
an opportunity to wear it.

The dress was short and clung nicely to her curves,
with a scooped neckline that revealed a great deal more
than she normally cared to.

Laying the dress out on her bed, she donned a lacy
black bra and panty set that she'd hardly ever worn. A
pair of sheer stockings encased her legs, held up by
an elastic band of lace on her upper thighs.

When she was satisfied by all aspects of her appear-
ance, she gave herself a final once over in the mirror,
pleased with the results.

"You know," her reflection seemed to say, "for someone
who's not in love, you're really pulling out all the stops."

She grabbed an evening bag and loaded her essentials
into it, ignoring the comment.

As she walked downstairs to join Melanie in the front
room, she heard the tinkling chime of her brass mantle
clock strike 6:00 p.m.


********************************************

The promised time of Angel's arrival came and
went with no sign of him.

Buffy sat on the couch beside Melanie, only getting
up once to replace 'Cinderella' with 'The Lion King'.

6:15 passed, then 6:30, then 6:45. By five minutes
to seven, she was internally climbing the walls, feeling
that old familiar anger towards her ex-husband begin
to stir inside her.

Forcing herself to remain calm, she stared at the
television without really seeing any of the action on
screen.

Although she was by no means surprised by Angel's
non-appearance, her irritation at it was approaching
a level she'd not felt since divorcing his worthless
hide.

"Maybe he forgot," a little voice piped softly.

Turning to meet her daughter's eyes, Buffy swallowed
the hard lump of anger that was building up in
her throat.

She had promised herself a long time ago that
no matter how she might personally feel about
Angel at any given time, she would never say a
harsh word about him in front of Melanie, and would
always try to find a plausible excuse for her father's
behavior.

It was a stretch, but she managed it once again. "I
don't think so, sweetie," she said, brushing her hand
over the child's curls. "He might be stuck in traffic."

**With a cellphone in his pocket** she added silently.


**************************************

At exactly 6:59, when she was on the verge of
going upstairs to call Angel, Buffy heard a car pull
into the driveway. She turned on the couch and moved
the curtains aside, seeing her ex-husband step out
of the Mercedes Benz he'd bought himself less than
six months ago.

Relief washed over her, but its euphoria was short
lived when she saw a silver Carrera glide to a stop in
front of the house.

**Oh, no....this isn't happening! I'll close my eyes
and one of them will NOT be there when I open them.
One...two...three...**



TBC.....
(Oh, boy! This ought to be GOOD, huh?)





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