Reflection of Love

Title: Reflection of Love
Author: Pattyanne snapkik@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS characters belong to me.
Feedback: Love some, thanks!
Rating: Up to NC-17
Summary: Buffy inherits a house and finds an antique mirror in the attic, a mirror that was once owned by William Cathcart over a hundred years ago.



Part eight...

Buffy made it to the video store and back in record time, carefully avoiding the speed traps she remembered from her days at Sunnydale High.

Apparently, the police force still hadn't figured out that everyone in town knew when and how to avoid certain streets.

Though she normally wasn't much of a speed demon, she was afraid to be too long away from her magical attic. In fact, the farther away she got, the more urgent her return began to seem; like someone, somewhere was trying to send her a message by mental telepathy, basically telling her to move her ass.

She had already decided that she would no longer question the wisdom of her growing feelings for William. Those feelings were developing quite nicely without hindrance or help. There was no stopping them now. There probably hadn't been right from the start.

Buffy had never felt like this about a man before. She'd had two serious relationships in her life, one that had almost led to marriage, but even those feelings seemed like minor trifles compared to what she was experiencing now.

It was no longer a matter of choice. The emotions were there. Fighting them was a waste of time and energy, no matter how much they might end up hurting her.


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


She forced herself to slow down and walk calmly into the house. The neighbors were all out and about, and she didn't want to be seen rushing inside like a frantic fool.

Stopping in the kitchen, she poured Lilybelle a dish of fresh kibble and refilled her water bowl. As she watched the little terrier eat, she gradually became conscious of the emptiness in her own stomach.

So she rummaged around in the freezer, and found a container labeled 'Beef Stew' in her grandmother's small, neat printing. The date on the label informed her that Nana had made the stew less than a week before her heart attack.

Buffy popped the container into the microwave for six minutes on 'High', then dumped the contents into a china bowl decorated with small, yellow roses.

She'd eaten a lot of cereal out of this bowl. It had been her favorite, and using it again...combined with the familiar aroma of Nana's stew...was conjuring up happy memories of her childhood.

After she was finished eating, she washed and dried her dishes and then replaced them in the cupboard. She wet a sponge and wiped the counters, drying them with a paper towel.

When there was no more tidying to be done in the kitchen, she turned off the light and headed upstairs with a stack of videos in her hand.

Once again, she stopped outside the attic door and took a deep breath before opening it.

To her intense disappointment, William had not yet returned to his room.

She set the videotapes down on top of the television, trying to stifle her urge to rap on the mirror and call out for him. With a deep sigh, she sat down on the floor, Indian style, and propped her chin in the cupped palm of her hand.

What she SHOULD do, if she had an ounce of common sense, was to go to her room and pack her bags, then leave this house...and the mirror...behind her for good. She couldn't very well spend the rest of her life being unhappy because the man she wanted wasn't available to her.

Sure it would hurt for a while, but once she'd gotten through it, she'd be better off...in the long run. If she left now her heart might be cracked, but at least it wouldn't be irreparably shattered beyond healing.

Eventually, she'd meet another man. One who could give her the things she wanted from life, a man she could not only see and hear, but could touch as well.

Was that too much to ask?


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


Needing something to occupy her hands, and her mind, she dragged out an ancient steamer trunk from a small alcove on the wall opposite the door, right beneath the stained glass window.

It was as dust free an everything else in the attic, which gave Buffy another one of those momentary pangs of guilt. Had her grandmother's life been so empty that she'd actually spent time dusting an attic full of old junk?

Shaking off that gloomy thought, she flipped open the brass latches on the trunk and lifted its lid.

The first thing she removed was a bureau scarf made of pale blue lace that looked as delicate and fragile as a baby spider's first web.

Beneath the scarf she found a shawl, and a hand embroidered white lawn tablecloth that was beginning to yellow. There were twelve matching napkins under the cloth, a silky beaded evening bag with a broken clasp, and a small box filled with an assortment of costume jewelry so old that it was now back in style.

Laying these treasures carefully to one side, she reached in for the final item, and gasped in pure delight.

It was a dress, something from Nana's very young womanhood. Fashioned out of pale lavender cotton, it had a high collar of creamy lace. The sleeves were long, ending in cuffs that were edged with the same cream colored lace.

The bodice of the dress was adorned with tiny cream roses and slotted lavender satin ribbons. There was a wide sash that would no doubt make a sizable bow at the small of the back when it was tied.

Looking over this confection of a dress, Buffy's t-shirt and jeans had never felt more unfeminine.

She had to try it on. She simply had to.


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


It was a stroke of pure luck that Buffy and her grandmother had the same petite frame.

None of the other women on either side of her family were built on the same small foundation.

She had gone through periods of her life when she'd hated being so short. Teased in school when she couldn't reach something on a high shelf without a stepladder, she'd been forced to attend dances wearing shoes that made her feel as though she was mounted on stilts to keep from feeling ridiculous trying to dance with a boy a foot and a half taller than she.

Finding proper fitting clothes was a pain as well. Even slacks she'd found on the 'Petite' rack had to be hemmed before she could wear them, and when she wore long skirts, she looked like she was standing in a hole.

But now, studying her reflection in her bedroom mirror, she silently thanked whoever was responsible for making her the way she was.

The dress fit as though it had been made only for her, and the moment she fastened the last miniature button on the back of the collar and tied the sash, she felt transported back in time.

"If only it was that easy," she murmured, thinking again of William.

She was so pleased with her appearance that she decided to take things a step further.

Quietly opening the door to Nana's room, which she had not done since the day she'd returned, she scouted the bureau for the glass dish that held her grandmother's hair pins; the heavy duty ones she'd used to put up her waist length hair for nearly sixty-five years.

Back in her own room, Buffy arranged her hair into a looser version of Nana's chignon, pulling out a few wispy strands to frame her face, and fluffing her bangs. Two tortoise shell combs slid in on the sides, finishing the look.

Once she was satisfied with her hair, she applied a little rose blush to her cheeks a l a light coat of matching gloss on her lips.

Although she was happy with the way she looked, she couldn't help feel that something was missing, some extra little touch that would complete her feminizing makeover.

Oh, yes....

Returning to Nana's room, she found what she was looking for; a small, dark blue bottle with teeny gold stars painted on it.

Evening In Paris, her grandmother's favorite fragrance.

She squeezed the atomizer's blue silk snood, spritzing a tiny amount behind each ear, feeling just a bit silly since no one except her would be smelling it.


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


After slipping her feet into a pair of low heeled pumps, Buffy went back up to the attic.

What the hell she thought she was doing was anybody's guess.

Was she making a conscious effort to appear to William as more of a girl from his place and time?

If she was, then why? What was the grand point of the exercise?

Standing outside the attic door in an agony of indecision, she nearly changed her mind as well as her clothes.

Not surprisingly, she couldn't make herself do it. She opened the door and stepped inside.

Not certain whether she was unhappy or relieved that William still wasn't there, she spread out the selection of videotaped movies she'd rented.

To say that 'Sunnydale Video Mart' had a limited choice of films would be an understatement.

She'd found a couple of old classics, 'Gone With The Wind' and 'Wuthering Heights', all three original 'Star Wars' films, and a favorite from her childhood that she couldn't resist; a retelling of the Cinderella story called 'The Slipper And The Rose'.

Hoping to take her mind off her troubles while she waited for William, she popped the tape in.

It seemed to be a little cornier than she'd remembered it being, but she enjoyed it nonetheless, and when Cindy and the Prince began their first dance, Buffy gave in to a sudden impulse and played along.

After making a deep curtsy, she spun in a circle. The skirt of her dress flared out into a bell shape as she circled around and around and......

She nearly turned purple when she saw that William had finally returned!

Whirling around again, she slapped the 'Off' button on the TV.

"Oh, please don't stop," William said, moving a little closer to the mirror. "It was lovely. Do continue."

Buffy placed her hands on her crimson cheeks, hoping to cool them down. "I can't. I..I don't even know what I'm doing."

She smoothed down the front of her dress, swallowing hard. "You're probably wondering about this. I sort of...found it. I mean, it was my grandmother's and...well I just...just..."

He smiled and did that adorable head tilt thing again. "You look radiant. Like a spring morning."

If the expression on his face was anything to go by, Buffy decided, she must be doing something right. He looked....enchanted, was the only way to describe it.

"So....you like it?" She held the skirt out and twirled in a circle for him, showing off shamelessly.

"Yes. Very much." William stared down at his shoes for a moment. "And you dance charmingly," he added.

Buffy had to laugh. "Thanks. You lie charmingly."

His head came up instantly. "I promise you, I am not."

"I never learned how to dance that way." She picked up the remote and rewound the tape, locating the ballroom scene again, playing it for him. "But it looks like fun."

William watched the dancers on screen, shaking his head.

"Don't pay any attention to them," he instructed. "Just listen to the music...now extend your right arm and place your hand on my...on your partner's shoulder." He blushed a little, but kept going. "Hold out your left arm as though you're grasping your partner's hand...now just step back on a three count...now to the side...that's right...one, two, three..."

Though she had little confidence that she was doing it correctly, Buffy was enjoying herself too much to care as William verbally led her through the steps of the waltz.

When the music ended, and the dialog began, she ran to replay it. Lilybelle, who had been sitting in one corner, observing the goings on with her bright button eyes, suddenly decided to join in the game. Trotting across the room with her tennis ball in her mouth, she stopped in front of Buffy and dropped it.

After nearly tripping over the little dog, Buffy picked up the ball and tossed it. It bounced off the steamer trunk and sailed across the attic....right through the mirror and into William's bedroom.


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


Both William and Buffy watched in stupefied amazement as the ball rolled past his feet and came to a stop by his desk.

Slowly, he turned back to face her, wonder in his eyes.

For a moment, Buffy thought he was going to say something, but he surprised her by doing no such thing.

Instead, he placed his hands on the frame of the mirror, took in an audible breath, and stepped through.

Buffy felt as though she'd been super glued to the floor. She couldn't move a muscle or come up with a clear thought. Two words kept repeating over and over again in her brain...**He's here! He's here!**

Without a word spoken by either of them, he walked over to where she was nailed to the floor, stopping less than two feet away. He smiled and bowed slightly at the waist, holding out one hand to her.

Buffy, mesmerized by the magical enormity of what was happening, placed her left hand in his and her right hand on his shoulder.

Stepping closer, William slipped his free arm gently around her waist and they began to dance.

The actress in the movie began to sing the words of the song, making the moment even more supremely romantic than it already was.

"Rainbows raced around the room
When he danced with me
Shooting stars began to zoom
When he danced with me.."


As the song continued, their movements became more fluid and graceful, as though they'd been dancing together forever.


"In his arms I was ascending
My life became a magic blending
Of dreams, and hope, and love
When he danced with me..."


Once again, neither of them cared to question the how or why of it all. It felt too wonderful, like a gift from an unseen, unknown benefactor.


"Though this lovely night is only a fantasy
And I know tonight is all there will ever be.."


"You're smiling," William observed.

"I'm happy."

He couldn't have looked more thrilled. "So am I."


"Dancing in his arms forever
My heart will never be free
Dreaming of the night he danced with me.."


They finally stopped directly beneath the stained glass window. William began to move away, but she held on to him by placing one of her hands over the one he had resting at her waist. Her other hand was irresistibly drawn to the lovely arch of his cheekbone.

Buffy knew he would never be able to initiate first contact, so she lifted her face and slipped her caressing hand behind his neck, pulling him forward gently, drawing him down.

When their lips were separated by nothing more than a sliver of air, he hesitated.

"Buffy...I...may I...."

"Yes," she said softly, smiling her approval of whatever he had in mind. "You definitely may."


"Dreaming of the night he danced with me...."


TBC.....


AN: There you go. 'William Through The Looking Glass'. And I don't CARE if it's corny, Lizabeth...I'm in the mood for a romantic fairytale.