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"Everyone, if I may have your attention, please?" Everyone in the room stopped and turned their attention to the man who was asking for it...William already knew what this was about...It must be his big news, he thought.

"Now that I have everyone's attention, I have an announcement to make...the reason I invited everyone here tonight was to tell you all that I have asked the lovely Miss Susan to marry me and she has accepted," Every one congratulated them and told them how happy they were for them. William had felt like a sword was being pulled out of his chest, he couldn't breathe, but some how he managed to get out a "C-Congratulations, I-I-I knew it was-was it was good news."

"Thank you, William," He said, shaking his hand.

"Yes, thank-you so much, William," Susan said, looking at him with a sweet smile.

"You're welcome-" He was about to say something else when Mary McKay interrupted them to congratulate the couple. I guess that dinner and a play is out of the question now... he thought. William moped around the party for the rest of the evening, he really didn't have anyone to talk to, and whenever he did he always got the feeling that there was somewhere else they would rather be. William suddenly got the idea to write a poem about being lonely, or perhaps about a love that was lost before it started. He sat down in one of the near by chairs, took out his pen and paper he had tucked away in his jacket, and started to compose.

'Lonely...lonely, what rhymes with lonely?' He hadn't gotten very far, only about 3 lines or so, when a man about William's age approached him. William knew who he was. He was Edward Giles nephew. His father along with Mr. Giles and William's father were great friends, they were always having small dinner parties that they would attend along with a couple of others. William just usually greeted them and stayed as far away from them as possible. They talked about strange things. He always felt like there was something he didn't know, and that they wanted him elsewhere so they could carry on a conversation without something accidentally slipping out. William's father always treated him like he was stupid...a moron, but he wasn't oblivious to what was going on and what people were talking about behind his back, and about what his father thought about him.

"H-hey, what are you doing?"

"Relax William, I just want to read your poem...that's alright isn't it?"

"Well, it's not quite done, the ink it isn't even dry..."

"Now, now, William that's quite alright, please share you poem," He started to read his poem out loud.

"Um, p-please if you would be so k-kind as to lower you're voice-I-I-I"

"William, calm your self, no one can hear me..." He continued to read his poem out loud and people did hear him, and he knew it...

"Um, please, people are looking a-at us, would you please-"

"Nonsense, William, no ones looking at us... If you would though, please tell what, or should I say who, this poem is about?" He said rather harshly.

"N-n-n-n-nothing...n-no o-one," William stuttered.

"Ah, James, would you come here a moment," he called a man that was only a few feet away from him.

"M-may I have my poem back now, please?" asked William.

"Now, now, William, have some patience, I just want to see what James thinks," he said smugly. He knew William didn't want anyone reading his poems, and he knew this because every time he saw William with one of his poems he always made sure he shared it with every one.

"Yes?" James asked as he joined the two men.

"What do you think of William's poem?" He asked James, while handing him the poem.

"Ah, a-actually you don't have to b-bother yourself, I-I-"

"Nonsense, William, I don't mind taking a look at your poem," James told him,. It was obvious that they were both teasing him, and William did get that feeling. You know, the one where you know the other person doesn't like you and they're only pretending to be your friend. He always got that feeling. "William...would you be so kind as to tell me who this poem is about?" He said in mocking tone. Both men continued to mock and laugh at his poem, making rude comments like "This doesn't make any sense" and "Never have I hear such bloody awful poetry, they should call him William the Bloody" "Ha! William the Bloody, that's a good one," and that's where the name first started. And of course they never said these things to his face, only after he took his poem and left the circle, although they did very well know that he was within earshot and could hear them.

William left the party; he wasn't in a very good mood, and suddenly felt sick. He held his poem in his hand reading it every now and then, it isn't that bad... Is it? I've heard worse, William sighed and put his hand out for a carriage. Once he returned home he noticed his mother in the sitting room doing some knitting. He let her know of his arrival, told her he would be retiring for the night and asked her if there was anything that she needed. His father had to go to America and would be gone for a couple of months, so it was his job to make sure mother was taken care of. Once she assured him that she didn't need his assistance and that if she did need anything then the maid was here, William went upstairs to his room and not long after drifted off into peaceful slumber.


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Upstairs Dawn was peacefully doing her homework, studying hard for her math exam. She was still having trouble with the acute triangles, she always got mixed up in the obtuse and the acute, what she needed was a good memory trick. Maybe Willow and Tara could help. She started gathering all her things together, and nearly jumped out of her chair when she heard a loud crashing sound coming from Willow and Tara's room.

"Are you guys ok?" Dawn asked from outside their door.

"Yeah, we're fine," Willow yelled from inside the room "I broke the lamp."

"Another spell?" Dawn asked.

"No! Well, sorta," Willow replied. Tara just stayed quiet, knowing that Willow was using too much magic and that she should say something, but decided that now wasn't the right time. They had to get ready for Buffy's dinner party.

"Wh-what are you looking for?" Tara asked.

"A spell, for Buffy's party."

"What kind of spell?"

"Oh, you know one that will make the food taste better, if it's too bad"

"We-well-"

"Ah ha! Here it is, I knew you were hiding from me,"

"Willow, maybe you shouldn't do a-a spell, it could hurt Buffy's feelings."

"Oh-Buffy will understand, she wouldn't want us to eat something that's yucky." said the witch.

Buffy's hands were very messy, being covered in the frosting she was using to frost the brownies, the one thing she knew how to make.

"Is that boiling yet?" she asked Spike who was by the stove, tending and perfecting his sauce.

"Ah, yeah."

"Ok, good, put the lid on it."

"Sure thing"

"How's the sauce coming?" She asked.

"Ahh...good I guess," he tasted it "It needs salt," he grabbed the saltshaker and added some. And then tasted it again "That's better, man I'm good,"

"Oh, please, you'reno better then I am," Buffy said, licking the chocolate off her fingers.

"Oh yeah, come over here and try this, and then tell me I'm not better then you."

Buffy wiped her hands and walked over to Spike, who had the wooden spoon filled with the sauce.

"Come on Slayer, open up," She opened up her mouth and Spike fed her some of his sauce. "Well?" He asked.

"It's editable, oniony, and kinda spicy. I give you 8 out of ten stars"

"What happened to the other two?"

"You'll get them back when we see how good your sauce goes with my noodles and brownies."

"Bugger."


Tara had changed her mind and decided to talk to Willow about using too much magic. If she didn't do it now she would lose her nerve and not get around to it at all.

"Willow, I think you shouldn't do the spell."

"What? Why not, it won't hurt anybody, it's just a simple spell"

"Willow, that's not the point, you're using too much magic."

"What?"

"You're using too much magic, it isn't for every little thing, every little problem."

"I know, and I'm not-"

"Yes you are, and it's hurting me, I don't want anything to happen to you, do you know what it's like to have power you can't control? Bad witches are the ones who can't control it, and the good ones are the ones that can. What one do you want to be, Willow?"

"Well, the good one of course...But Tara, I really don't see where we have a problem."

"I do, and I can't stay here and watch you destroy yourself."

"Well, I'll cut back on the magic, I won't do it for a whole month."

"Give it one week."

"Ok, a week, I can go a week"

"Come in," Tara said when there was a knock on their door. "Oh, hey Dawnie, can I help you with something?" Tara asked.

"Yeah, I was wondering if one of you could help me with my math homework, I'm having a little bit of trouble."

"Sure Dawnie, I'll help you," Tara said, following Dawn out of the room.

"Tara?" Willow asked just before she left.

"Yea?"

"Are you mad at me?"

"We'll see in one week." then she left.

'I have to make this right, Tara and I never fight' Willow thought, and then she began looking through her magic books.


"Spike, No!" Buffy said, smacking his hand with the wooden spoon she was using to finish frosting the brownies.

"Ouch! Bloody hell, Slayer, that hurt,"

"No sampling the product,"

"Yeah, well I help produce the product, so I should get a sample," he said once again, trying to stick his finger into the bowl, and Buffy once again smacked it.

"No means no, Spike. And besides, I made these brownies all by myself, so you did not help produce this product, you made the sauce."

"And I let you sample- so give some, it's only fair."

"Fine, Spike, take some," She moved the spoon so he could stick his finger in, but instead he grabbed her wrist and licked all the frosting that was on her fingers.

"Eww! Spike, that's gross,"She pulled her fingers away from his mouth and went to wash them in the sink.

"Spike, the pot!!" Buffy said suddenly.

"What?"

"The pot is boiling over!"

Spiketurned the stove down, put the pot on a different burner and took the lid off.

"Arggh," Spike screamed. "Bloody hell!!"

"Spike, what happened?" Buffy asked, going over to him

"I bloody well scaled my hand on the bloody steam, coming from the bloody pot," he said, holding his hand.

"Well, here, put it under cold water," She said, taking his hand and turning on the cold water.

"God, this brings back memories," Spike mumbled.

"What?" Buffy asked.

"You wanna hear about the last time I tried to cook?"





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