Little By Little

If you thought this story looked familiar, that’s because it is. :) It was the first story I put online and I felt it needed to be reworked and I dramatically deleted it. (It was very sad because my 400 reviews went with it, but I did save most of them) Remember all the junk that was in my profile on the author’s page? Probably not. ;) Anyway, it’s back and I’m making the chapters more reader friendly.

Chapter 1

“Eh, right. I guess we’ll go whenever you’re done, pet.” William ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t me believe she left me. ‘You won’t be alone,’ my ass.”

“Was I supposed to hear that last part? She left me too, you know.”

“Um, where’s your stuff? You know, clothes and whatnot?”

“At home. I never brought anything to Willow’s. Are you really taking me to England?”

“You wanna go?”

“Do I have a choice?”


“Well, I guess I’m going to England, now aren’t I?”

Buffy couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t been back to Revello Drive since she had seen her mother lying lifelessly, wide-eyed and cold on the living room couch.

“I gotcha, love.”

Buffy felt William’s hand on her back. It slowly pushed her through the open front door. She should’ve wiggled out of his reach but she found the contact comforting. He was in her personal space, but she allowed him to nudge her past the living room and up to her room.

“See we may not be so bad together after all, huh, kitten?”

Buffy barely caught the mumbled question so she let it pass and pretended not to hear him.
She soundlessly circled her room, trying to concentrate on gathering her things. If she had allowed her mind to wander, she would’ve broken down. Being in the house, seeing smiling family photos, and remembering the calm before the death: it was too much for her to handle.

“Best to travel light, princess.”

She was thankful that he helped her focus. She knew William wouldn’t let her fall apart.

“I’ll get you new stuff at home, okay, pet? Don’t worry I have plenty of money tucked away,” William said as they drove towards the hotel.

“I’m sure you’re loaded,” Buffy said, rolling her eyes. “You’ve worn the same outfit since yesterday and you could only afford this cheap, crappy rental car. I’m sure you’re staying at the Motel 8 off the freeway too.”

“Been keeping tabs on me, love? I’ll admit, I’m a cheap traveler.”

“Sure, whatever. So, tell me about yourself, William.”

“She’s up for small talk now.” William couldn’t help but tease her. “This is a bloody breakthrough for us, pet. Oh, maybe we’ll have a full conversation too.”

“I asked you a question, William,” she smirked.

“That you did, ah, your mom and I met through Willow, who knows my father, Rupert. You see, Rupes is a curator at a la-ti-da museum. He was Willow’s mentor for a while, I guess. Anyway, I’m a ghostwriter: boring research papers at day and pathetic fiction by night. Raunchy novels and hideous poetry are my specialties.”

“The clothes are just a cover? You’re really a shy, sensitive, writer guy?”

“Exactly. I’m a lonely man who lives only through his terrible writing. I dress like a Big Bad because I want to scare off and impress people.” William kept his tone sarcastic but his words were laced with true confessions. “You look right through the Big Bad thing, don’t ya, princess? You see right through me.”

“I do. It’s a gift,” Buffy said, a little grin tugging on her lips.

It was late and William continued to toss and turn on the hard, nonexistent hotel carpet. Being a gentleman, Buffy had been given the queen-sized bed all to herself.

‘Tomorrow,’ William thought, ‘I’ll be traveling across miles of land and sea with Buffy Summers—the wrong Summers. Listen to her snore, she’s so dainty, bet she doesn’t have a clue that she makes such a racket.’ Smirking, William rested his head on his arms.

‘Bet a sleepless Buffy equals a pissy Buffy, just like my Joyce.’

“Hey, Will.”

William felt her hands slide up his naked chest. She was sitting on him, straddling his waist. Ribbons bound his legs and arms; his body was stretched out like a star.

William felt his eyes water as he devoured Joyce’s image. Her medium-length hair was framing her face beautifully. She was his angel, dressed in white gauzy material. William’s eyes focused on the hard nipples he could see peeking through her dress.

“I’ve missed you--.” Her hand covering his soft lips muffed his confessions of love and loneliness.

“Listen to me, Spike, honey.” Joyce took her palm away from his mouth and left a chaste kiss in its place. She moved upwards, kissing his forehead and weaving her fingers through his hair. She continued to dot his neck and chest with sweet kisses. Traveling south, she stopped before reaching his hips. Joyce looked up into his eyes, a smile on her face.

William wanted to voice his disappointment, upset that her kisses had stopped but he was hushed again.

“You were always a talker, weren’t you?” She leaned her body flush against his. “Without warning,” she whispered into his neck.

He struggled to move towards her, to increase their contact, but he couldn’t.
“As a whirlwind swoops on an oak…”

Her hand moved between them, finding its target easily. Her two fingers moved slowly, making lazy circles the head of his cock. Soon she circled his hard shaft, moving up and down, waiting for him to reach the edge of his anticipated climax.

William’s breath became faster, his eyes rolled back and his legs tensed up. As he came, Joyce whispered, looking into his dilated shining eyes, “She will shake your heart.”

“William, wakey, wakey.”

William groaned as a feather pillow hit him in the head.

“I though our flight is at ten?”

“Bloody hell!” William was rushed back from his dream, his body sore from sleeping on the floor and his pants uncomfortably wet.

He groaned and mumbled more curses as the current time registered in his foggy brain.

“God, you’re very British,” Buffy remarked with a soft laugh.

“Glad you could tell, love. Move your ass, princess. We should’ve been at the airport an hour ago.”

Five hours, thirty ‘bloody hells’, and seventeen ‘wankers’ later, Buffy was convinced that William Giles was the most entertaining man alive. He growled, his eyes popped out of his head, and all the airport staff saw was an insane, short blond man.

They had been on the plane for a while now. William sat next to her in the middle seat. After he calmed down, he quickly fell asleep.

With his head rested back and his eyes closed, Buffy noted he had long eyelashes. They were the only soft feature to his chiseled face. His gorgeously pale skin and defined cheekbones hid his tiny imperfections. ‘He aged well,’ Buffy mused. ‘He looks so…flawless.’

‘He’s beautiful. Mom had good taste. Hmm, he does look tasty...’

‘Ick!’ Buffy suddenly felt dirty. ‘William should be my stepfather! Nasty, I’m so going to hell now! I shouldn’t think about his tastiness and…wonder if all that hair gel and bleach makes his hair feel sticky. No! No! That would be bad, Buffy, very bad.’

She swallowed, looking out the window trying to shut up her scandalous mind and dirty thoughts.

William didn’t sleep for long but he kept his eyes closed as his mind worked, thinking about his dream.

‘Hell. Well even my dreams butcher good sixteenth century poetry. Why did my sodding subconscious have to choose Sappho for its cryptic attacks? And who the hell is ‘she’?’

William hoped he was wrong. He hoped his dream had nothing to do with the seventeen-year-old sitting next to him. The dream had left him feeling confused and scared. Joyce had called him Spike. That bothered him the most. Joyce had never known him as Spike.

Spike was dead and buried; Drusilla had made sure of it.

I’ll never leave you, kitten. Never.

“I never want to see, let alone ride in another plane for the rest of my life,” William groaned as he walked with a slight bounce, making sure that his legs still worked.

“What’s that?”

Buffy pointed, a look of disgust jumbled her face. “I thought you said you were loaded?”

“I said that, yes. She’s a classic, you know. I’ve had her for ages. My black beauty she is.”

“You love it so much you named it after a crappy horse movie?”

Buffy had never ridden in a car like the De Soto. It had bench seats; perfect, clearly babied, black leather interior; and a scent that could only be a mixture of cigarettes, alcohol and something sweet.
Buffy inhaled deeply. ‘Yup, definitely gummy bears,’ she thought biting her lip to hide her smile.

“Sit back, princess. Get comfy, it’s quite a ride to home sweet home.”

“We’re here, love,” William whispered, gently shaking Buffy’s shoulder.

Buffy’s eyes fluttered open as William’s car door slammed closed. She had forced herself to sleep on the drive, seeing cars drive on the other side of the road and drivers on the passenger side had been too much for her.

“It looks like Hansel and Gretel’s house!” Buffy thought cottages like the one before her were only seen in amusement parks. The house was cute and tiny. It had heart-shaped shutters and numerous flowerbeds. She looked at William in a quick glance. “You must’ve been really whipped by my mom. I can’t picture you living in a large replica of my dollhouse.”

“Well,” William blushed, “there’s no way it could’ve been their house, the little brats were trespassing, remember?”

“Are you keeping the house?”

“I doubt it. Too many memories. We decorated it on her last trip.“

“Oh. It’s really nice, William.”

Buffy was shown to a round, pale yellow room. The space was sparsely decorated with an old wooden bed and other large pieces of furniture. Buffy held back her squeal, ‘Bed knobs!’ William explained that the room was hers; it would’ve been kept to her liking between her visits and Buffy smiled, touched by the gesture.

“This is really great, William. I love the color…it’s really nice.”

“Your mom said you liked things cheery,” William responded with a shrug.

“Too bad I won’t be able to make it my own. I would’ve liked that.”

“It is too bad.”

Buffy frowned as he turned on his heel, leaving her alone in the room. She could tell he wanted to sell the house and move on. Like he said, the house kept too many memories, but it was missing her mom.

‘It is too bad. I really like it here.’
After an awkward night, William left early the next morning. He had to get ready for the move and had people to see.

Buffy was sitting on the sunken, comfortable couch in the living room when she heard knocking at the door. She looked through the peephole and saw an older man with defined smile lines and a full tweed outfit.

‘Hey, where’s Waldo?’ She thought, slowly opening the door.

“Hello, Buffy. I’m William’s father, Rupert.” He kept his hands in his pockets and nodded a greeting. “Rupert Giles.”

“Oh, come in.”

“I’m so very sorry about your loss, dear. Joyce was a remarkable woman. I enjoyed working with her at my museum…William sent me to keep you company.”

“That was sweet of him; I was getting kind of lonely. British TV is very…ah, British.”

Rupert grinned softly in amusement. “Um, yes. Have you seen around town yet? I imagine not, since you arrived only yesterday. Would you like a tour?”

“Yes, that would be nice, Rupert.” Buffy struggled to causally say his name. “Um, can I call you ‘Giles’? It rolls off the tongue much easier.”

Giles looked up, with embarrassment in his eyes. “Sure, Buffy. Let’s go.”
Giles and Buffy wandered all over the town. Buffy liked Giles instantly. He was kind and easily embarrassed. Buffy noted that when he was uncomfortable, he cleaned his glasses with a monogrammed handkerchief. The couple met William for lunch. Since they arrived before him, they talked and enjoyed each other’s company.

“Did you see William and my mom together? I wish I could’ve.”

“Yes, William would parade Joyce around like his prize. Joyce was perfect for him. They were an amusing couple, always smiling and laughing. William had just come out of a horrid relationship. Joyce made him very happy. Now, however, I am concerned about him, since your mother’s death. I know you haven’t known him for long and I hate to ask but, have you noticed William drinking at all?”

“He’s been sad and bad moody but that’s normal, right? There hasn’t been any alcohol or at least not around me, Giles.”

“I don’t want to worry you, Buffy, but William has suffered from an addiction to alcohol in the past. I was only worried he may relapse in his recovery…He loved Joyce very, very much.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him, I promise,” Buffy said. “Thank you for telling me.”

There was a long silence where both avoided each other’s eyes. Both were uncomfortable taking about William behind his back.

“Hey, dad. Buffy.”

“William.” Giles stood up and warmly embraced his son.

William sat in the squeaky restaurant chair and nodded a welcome to Buffy. “How were the sights, pet?”

“…so then little William screamed, ‘I’m the Big Bad!’ and took off on his bicycle…”

“He didn’t make it did he?”

“Not exactly,” Giles chuckled. “He was able to jump the first ramp but fell on the second, leaving him with that nasty scar on his eyebrow.”

“Ah, poor little William.” Buffy mocked William and giggled at his misfortunes.

“Bloody hell, dad. No more, okay?” William wanted to die. In the past hour Rupert had covered his potty training mishap, the eyebrow tragedy, and the real reason behind why he was forced to bleach his hair for the first time at nineteen.

“Must you go back to work, Will?”

“Nope, I’ve got the rest of the week off. Holiday and all.”

Buffy suddenly brightened. “What holiday? Did I miss something? Are there presents?

"No, love. A holiday is like a vacation.”

“Oh, now I’m disappointed and…um, slightly embarrassed.”

Giles watched as the blondes left, bantering as they went. Giles was glad; Buffy was a joy and William seemed to be coping.

Giles wondered if he was too quick to mention William’s drinking problem with Buffy. He hoped Buffy wouldn’t have to deal with the damage that Drusilla had caused.

“Your dad seems nice.”

“Yeah, he’s alright,” William said sheepishly. “He just talks way too much.”

“He’s Superdad compared to mine.”

“I recall Joyce saying yours was a real wanker.”

“He’s definitely wankery. I think he’s living in Spain with his new and improved family, of course. Every now and then he sends a picture greeting card with his new wife and kids on it. It’s like he is rubbing it in, you know, that he left us? He never responded when I wrote about mom, not even when she first got sick.”

“Well then he’s a bastard and a sod. He never deserved you anyway.”

Buffy looked at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

William picked the telephone on the third ring.


“Hey, Will. Now there’s the voice I yearned to hear. Don’t you sound chipper?”

“Willow, it’s nice hearing from you, pet.”

“So are you and Buffy getting along? Are you playing nice?”

“And if I’m not are you gonna come here and rough me up?”

“Of course.”

“Well in that case, I think so. Yeah, we’re good.”

“That’s great! I’m so proud of you, William. If you were here, I’d give you a cookie.”

“Chunky chocolate chip?”

“That’s the only kind I buy and you know it. I’ve missed you guys. I’m kind of lonely out here.”

“We’ll be back soon, pet. I have to sell the house and furniture. I’m also trying to set up a long distance relationship with my ghostwriting people.”

“Well have fun; don’t work too hard, okay?”

“Do you want to chat with Buffy? She’s around here somewhere.”

“Naw that’s fine. I’ve got to go. Tell her I called. Love, ya Will.”

“Take care, pet.”

‘Go team Buffy,’ she smiled, proud of herself.

She had been with her attractive guardian for almost a week and her impure thoughts were kept to a minimum. She scrambled around the house trying to keep herself busy and to take her mind off of William’s good looks.

Buffy sneezed from all the dust. ‘God, does William even own Pledge?’ She was in the attic of the little house. It was tiny also, about the size of a large closet.

‘William seems to be gifted in shoving a lot of stuff into little spaces,’ Buffy smirked.

Buffy was sorting through boxes and various items, seeing if they were worthy to make the trip back home. Before her mom got really sick, she was sending a few boxes to William a week. Their ultimate goal was to be completely moved in before the honeymoon.

William’s boxes intermingled with Joyce’s and Buffy tried to avoid going through his stuff to respect his privacy.

“Hell, one box wouldn’t be too bad, now would it?”

Buffy opened the box labeled, ‘Golden Years.’ She smiled at his weird sense of humor.
She came in contact with a number of journals filled with daily entries and poems. Buffy passed on those. She remembered how violated she felt when her mom had ‘accidentally’ read her diary. He had worn novels hidden throughout the box. Buffy was almost disappointed with her findings until she reached the bottom of the box.

Crumbled in a flattened ball was a dirty, well-worn black leather duster. Buffy picked up the jacket and was assaulted by his scent: cigarettes, alcohol and again a sweet smell. “Gummy bears,” she giggled out loud. Moving the duster allowed a picture to fall from its creases.

She gasped and held a hand to her mouth as she took in the photograph. William was embracing a pale, skinny, dark haired girl. They were standing in front of his adored De Soto.

“She’s very pretty, well, in a Dracula meets flat-chested Barbie kind of way,” Buffy commented. “Mmmm, William’s quite a looker too.” Buffy knew that was very true because her underwear was damp by just the sight of him.

‘Good lord, he’s wearing makeup!’

William was wearing all black, as usual, but a vest instead of his tight t-shirt. The vest and pants were holey and adorned with various metal rings. His hair was completely bleached, no brown roots, and sticking up on all sides. William’s eyes had a wicked gleam to them and his curled tongue was just as suggestive.

“He’s beyond hot,” Buffy moaned softly, “a mixture of Billy Idol and one of those Punk music gods. Who is it, Sid Vicious?”

“Buffy, food!”

She slid the photograph into her back pocket and placed the duster and books back into the box.

‘Damn, now I have more fuel for my fantasies.’

Buffy ran downstairs.

William sighed as he slid between the cool covers of the bed. It was one of the best feelings, in his opinion, soft sheets against naked skin.

Buffy had acted strange all during dinner. She never looked at his face unless she thought he wasn’t paying attention, but he was constantly. He knew her face had a red cast and that she squirmed a lot in her chair, making it crackle under the pressure.

William had tried to make polite conversation asking her how the attic was going. Buffy responded to his questions with one-word answers and a deeper blush.

‘Buffy, what have you been up to?’

He hoped all would pass by the morning. If not, he’d go up to attic and poke around.

Buffy couldn’t sleep. Her face and lower regions were on fire.

‘Mom, why couldn’t you have wanted to marry an icky guy?’

She pulled up from her pillows and retrieved the photograph from underneath. She closed her eyes, trying not to look at the blue-eyed man on the front. She had been wondering all night if the photo had writing on the back. She wanted to know how old he was and who the woman was.

She opened her eyes and found the inscription. “My bloody valentine. Forever yours, my Dru. Love, Spike.”

“Dru?” Buffy had never heard of her. “Maybe Giles will know. I’ll see him tomorrow,” Buffy whispered to herself out loud.

Cursing herself before looking at the picture once more, Buffy etched his image into her mind. She quickly shoved it back under her pillows and sighed, “I’m going to hell.”

Disgusted with herself, she wrapped her sheets up to her neck and pulled up the long t-shirt she was using as a nightgown, resting it at her waist. Buffy put her palm against her crotch, “Wet”, she groaned. “Mom, forgive me.”

Buffy slid the soggy underwear off and threw them on the pile of dirty clothes. Her heart raced as she slowly moved her fingers through her pubic hair. She gasped, using her pointer finger to play with her vaginal lips. Thinking of William as Spike: the sexy punk rocker, she circled and teased her clit. She thought of her supposed-to-be stepdad as she pushed her middle finger deep inside. As she pumped her fingers, sliding them in and out, making herself come hard, William was the only person on her mind.

William stepped into the bathroom. It was late and he hated when he had to roll out of bed with a full bladder. As he tucked himself back into the pants that he had slipped on for Buffy’s sake and was getting ready to flush, he heard moaning. William froze. He quietly moved out of the bathroom and tiptoed towards Buffy’s closed bedroom door.

William held his breath as waited. Then he heard it again.

“Ahhh, Spike, don’t stop.”

William felt his eyes widen and his cock harden.

“Buffy…oh, fuck. This can’t be good.”

William wobbled back into his room, freed himself from his flannels, and dealt with his erection properly.

“Not good at all.” He chewed on his lip, spent and frustrated that while he pleased himself, his mind wandered from Joyce and centered on her daughter. “Fuck.”

I burn for you, Buffy.

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