William was panting as if he'd run a marathon. His eyes were wet. He wiped at them with the back of his hand.
When he opened his eyes, he saw his sitting on the bed. Buffy was trembling.
“And then?” he asked her. His voice hoarse.
Buffy found herself trying desperately to block it all out. Everything that had happened that night. Everything she did. But it was all coming back to her.
No, no, no, no, she thought.
Buffy buried her head between her knees. Then clamped her hands over her ears.
William knew he wasn’t going to get any answers from her. Besides, he couldn't barely even stomach looking at her any more. Giving her a contemptuous glance, he directed his gaze to Xander.
“And then?” he asked.
“I…” Xander began. Nervously. “I don’t know what you want me to say, man.”
“Tell me what happened,” William said. Simply. Flatly.
“I….I mean….we…” Xander said. Bashfully rubbing the nape of his neck and looking down. “We…”
William found a fresh surge of anger coursing through him.
“Go on,” William said. “Say it.”
“Look,” Xander said. Sighing. “I think we should all just take…”
“I wanna hear you say it,” William growled.
He didn’t know why. But he needed to hear it. From Xander’s lips, if not Buffy’s.
“What you did. Both of you.”
William looked over at Buffy. Her eyes were shut. She’d begun rocking back and forth gently.
“Buffy and I,” Xander began. Delicately. “Made love. Okay? We made love, Will.”
Buffy found herself wanting to let out a primal scream.
That is not what happened, Buffy thought. You motherfucker. You bastard. She screwed her eyes shut tighter. Clamped her hands over her ears harder. Until she’d shut out the world. And everything had gone black.
William scoffed at Xander’s use of the euphemism.
“Come off it, mate,” he said. “You bleedin’ shagged each other. Right?”
William stared at Xander. Hard.
“Right?” he asked. Again.
William had begun pacing around the room now.
“Right,” Xander said. Finally. Softly. Raising his hands. “Whatever you say, man.”
Suddenly, William halted in his tracks.
“How many times?” he asked.
“Sorry?” Xander asked. Blinking.
Had he heard the question correctly?
“How. Many. Times. Did. You. Fuck. My. Wife,” William queried. Enunciating every word.
Oh, this is too good to be true, Xander thought. I guess Willie wants all the sordid details.
Xander had to stop himself from smiling. He forced himself to screw up his face.
“I…” Xander began. “I wasn’t exactly keeping count man.”
The hell I wasn’t, Xander thought.
“More than once,” William asked. “Right? Right?”
He seemed almost hopeful now. Xander could see a faint ray of hope in his eyes. If it was only once, William could explain it away somehow. To himself. A mistake. An error in judgment. Something. Anything. That would help him understand.
“Yeah,” Xander said. Trying his best to sound sorrowful. “Sorry.”
He saw William’s jaw clench. His fists tighten. He began to pace again. He could see his lips mouthing the words ‘in my fucking house. In my fucking bed’. Over and over again.
“Ballpark it for me,” William snarled suddenly.
“What?” Xander asked.
Xander could hear the gears grinding away in William’s head. The morbid curiosity was killing him. And Xander was loving it.
“How many times, mate?” William asked.
Xander shifted uncomfortably where he stood. But inwardly, he found himself snickering. He was actually having fun. Pretending to squirm while torturing William with all the salacious details.
“I mean,” Xander began. Pretending to go over it in his mind. “I guess I’d have to say…”
Enjoying seeing the anguish on William’s face grow as he continued to revise the count upwards. He waited a few moments longer. To prolong William’s anguish. Until he could take no more.
“Three?” William asked. Through gritted teeth. “Four?”
“I’d say five or six,” Xander said. Enjoying the thunderstruck look on William’s face.
“Five or six,” William whispered. To himself. Xander saw a kaleidoscope of emotions flash across William’s face. Mostly anger actually. And a healthy dose of denial.
That’s right, Willie. Your wife and I did it six ways from Sunday, Xander thought. More than you ever managed with the Mrs in one night I wager. No wonder she’s begging for more.
“And then twice again in the morning,” Xander added. Unable to resist one delicious, final twist of the knife sticking out of William. Then pretended to look repentant when William glared at him threateningly.
“Buffy said you had a late afternoon flight,” Xander said. Weakly. “That we could spend the morning in.”
When William stepped forward menacingly, Xander threw up his hands.
“Don’t hit me again!” he said in his best whiny voice. “Please! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything.”
William grunted with disgust, then looked away. Towards Buffy.
“Why?” William asked. “Tell me why, luv.”
Buffy remained where she was. Seated on the bed. Head between her legs. Hands over her ears.
“Talk to me,” William snarked. He stepped forward. His temper flaring. Teeth bared. “Was it me? Was it? Was it something I did?
“I deserve to fucking know!” he screamed. “What did I do?”
Still, she said nothing.
Finally, William exhaled. Then knelt in front of the bed. On his hands and knees.
“Say something,” he said. Tears running down his face. Until he’d collapsed on the floor. “Anything. Please. Luv. Please.”
Xander found himself wanting to puke at the sheer sentimentality on display. Jeez, he thought. Get a grip, mate.
“Okay,” she finally said. Softly. Swallowing the lump in her throat.
William raised his head.
“You want the truth?” Buffy asked. Wiping the tears off her face.
William nodded.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Oh shit, Xander thought. She’s not gonna…
“Yes,” William croaked. “Please.”
“It was you,” Buffy said. Coldly. “Something you did.”
“What?” William asked.
Buffy turned to look at Xander.
“You wanna tell him or should I?” she asked.
Oh fuck, Xander thought.
“Uh…” Xander began.
“Where should I fucking begin?” Buffy said. Contemptuously.
“Should we start with that shitty ass apartment we have, Will? Or the shitty ass car you drive?” Buffy said. Angrily.
William didn’t understand. At all. What was she on about? The apartment? The car? What the fuck?
“Maybe it’s the fact that we haven’t taken a vacation in five fucking years,” Buffy continued. Shrilly. “Or the fact that you’re never home. Never there for me. Why is it always about you, Will?”
“I mean, it’s not like we’re rolling in it either,” Buffy added. “So where do you spend all the money, Will? Got some whores stashed away I don’t know about?”
“Where… where is this coming from?” William asked. Gawping at her. “I don’t understand.”
Buffy took in a little breath. Time to go nuclear. Still, she took in a breath and prepared herself. For what she had to do.
I’m sorry Will, she thought. But you have to go. I need you to go. I’ll explain everything later.
“And maybe if you’d been just a little more giving in bed,” Buffy said. Caustically. Leaning forward and lowering her voice. “I wouldn’t have needed Xander to scratch that particular itch.”
“Oh and since you’re just dying to know,” Buffy added. “It was seven times.”
Yowza, Xander thought. Grinning widely now. Buff. Be still my heart.
William’s eyes widened in disbelief. He didn’t know what to say.
But Buffy wasn’t done.
“I thought I was marrying a man,” Buffy said. Turning back to William. “But what I got was a lost, little boy. What a fucking disappointment you are, my darling husband.”
William just sat there. Shaken to his very core.
“Right,” William said. Just sitting there. Shaken to his very core. Under the cold, empty gaze of his wife. Never noticing her hand tightly gripping the bedsheet so hard it had turned white.
“Right,” he said again. Slowly, heavily, he rose to his feet.
“Have a nice life then,” he said. Coldly. “Fucking bitch.”
Buffy watched the man she love walk out the hotel apartment. Leaving her with the man she hated most in the world. Again.
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