ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,388
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,388
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
THE NEXT MORNING
PART II – TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
CHAPTER 86 – THE NEXT MORNING
July 9, 2008
Wednesday
7:00am
Once again in her own bed, and with William beside her, Buffy slept deeply that night, only stirring to change positions; her around him, him around her, them face to face, her head on his chest, his down to hers.
Early the next morning, William opened his eyes, a soft smile coming to him as he saw her face next to his, her arm loosely thrown around his middle. He stared at her for a while, occasionally his eyes darting to take in the room, which he'd only briefly seen last night. In the early morning sunlight, filtering in through the heavy drapes, he could just barely make out the shapes of the dresser, or the closet, bathroom, and bedroom doors.
He reached over and kissed her softly on the forehead, and watched as she stirred in her sleep, from his kiss, and mumbled, "Fishg, bglih you, William."
"Well, 'fishg, blglih,you too, Elizabeth," he whispered back, smiling at her bit of nonsequitur nonsense.
He closed his eyes and tried to drift back to sleep, but nature was calling strongly, plus the desire to do a bit of exploring, maybe make some breakfast for them, something to show that he could be useful to her, now that they were home.
He carefully slid out from underneath her arm, pulling a pillow under her arm, in his place.
Before going into the bathroom, he’d grabbed his jeans, and took his one clean shirt out of the top dresser drawer. Elizabeth had started to clean it out for him last night, but he had stopped her, telling her that for now, they could share it, after all, wasn’t like he had so much.
Once in the bathroom, he turned on the shower, but found only cold water. Elizabeth had said something about the water heater being outside. Reluctantly, he turned it off; he'd have to find out about that later. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and shaved with the icy water. He dressed, then quietly went back into the bedroom.
As the sun had risen, the shapes in the bedroom had taken on distinctness. One of the things his eyes fell on was the bag on the floor. He grabbed his boots from the side of the bed, picked up the black plastic bag full of dirty clothes, and quietly made his way out the bedroom door. Before shutting it, he set the bag down, then went back into the bedroom and grabbed the wrapped packages off of the dresser.
He looked around the living room. There was a peacefulness to it this early, as the light through the shades blanketed the room in a soft glow. It felt right, somehow, the way this room looked, the way it felt to his senses.
He made his way into the kitchen and made some coffee. While it was brewing, he found the wash machine. Reading the directions on it, on the soap, and on some of the tags of their clothes, he started a load of darks. At least he wouldn't need to worry about using warm or hot water for those.
Next, he unwrapped the packages he'd brought into the kitchen, carefully pulling off the newspaper they were wrapped in. They were the pots they'd bought in Mesa Verde. He went back into the living room and placed them on either side of the mantle, above the fireplace. He'd let Elizabeth decide where they should be displayed best, later.
Satisfied, he went back to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He found a new carton of milk in the refrigerator and a box of sugar, in one of the cabinets. He fixed his cup, then sat down at the table, looking over the kitchen, while he drank.
Ten minutes and a second cup of coffee later, he decided to have a look around the outside. He put on his boots, laced them up, picked up his mug, and went out through the back porch.
William walked toward the barn. He stopped to have a look inside. He saw piles of tools, rakes, hoes, hoses and the like, first. Next, as he came nearer the center of the barn, he saw some steps leading up to a loft area. He went up those and saw a punching bag, some hand wraps, some gloves, and some powder. He wasn't sure what to make of any of those. Perhaps they'd been his.
From the loft, he could look out at the house. As he looked, he noticed what appeared to be large number windows, if he was seeing it correctly, belonging to an attic or second floor. He hadn't noticed any stairs leading up to another floor, so he supposed it must be some sort of attic.
Outside again, he walked around the barn and saw the black DeSoto that Elizabeth had said was his. It was a fine looking car. It looked like the windows had some sort of black material on the inside. He opened the door, and found that it was only a pull-off heavy black plastic. Sitting down in the driver's seat, he put his hands on the wheel and tried to remember what driving felt like, but he couldn't. Of course, he'd seen everyone he knew, over the past 4 weeks, do it at one time or another, but he still hadn't any memory of himself having drove. Of course, he knew he must have, even if in his own faulty memory, cars hadn’t even been invented!
"Well, best get back to the house and make me lady some breakfast," he said, closing the door to the DeSoto.
Buffy stirred and yawned, her hand went upwards to feel William's warm skin.
Suddenly, her eyes shot open, and she looked at the pillow next to her.
"Huh?"
She sat up and looked around. Everything was as she remembered it.
As she remembered it.
As she remembered it from…?
Looking at the floor, she realized there was no black plastic bag. She then looked at the dresser, no packages. Leaning over the edge of his side of the bed, she down at the floor, no boots!
"NO! NO! OH GOD NO!" she said, her heart pounding and her eyes filling with tears. "SPIKE!"
She'd had so many dreams of him over the years, but never like this, never this long; this real! It couldn't be a dream! Could it? She looked around again, sitting on the side of the bed. Her heart felt like it was going to break; a twenty-ton weight upon it. All this, this...everything...Chicago, Fuller's, her friends, the road trip, the RV, all a dream?
She rose heavily from the bed and went over to the dresser; slowly she opened the top drawer and looked in. Just as she remembered! There was no shirt.
Tears were now streaming down her face, and a sob hitched in her chest, spilling out, making her cries sound harsh and loud in the room. She looked at the bathroom and closet doors. Which should she open next, to further prove that he wasn't here, had never been here with her? She walked over to the bathroom door and could barely seeing the handle, for her tears. She stood there shaking, crying, afraid to open it.
William had just walked back into the kitchen from the porch, when he heard her cry, "SPIKE!” with such anguish in it; he nearly dropped his coffee cup. He ran to the bedroom.
Just as she’d started to turn the handle on the bathroom door, the bedroom door burst open, and William had come running in, an alarmed look on his face.
The bed was empty, he turned and saw her standing by the bathroom door, tears streaming down her face, shaking and sobbing as if she was going to break.
"WILLIAM!" she cried, as she flung herself into his arms, "Are you real? Are you? Oh God, Oh William" she said, hugging him so tight, he thought he was going to break, kissing every square inch of him she could reach.
"What's wrong Elizabeth? What happened? What's wrong?"
She laughed and cried at the same time, tears of relief now, "I woke up and you were gone. Then I looked over and saw everything was gone - the laundry bag, your shoes, the packages on the dresser, the shirt in the drawer," she said, still crying. "I thought I'd dreamed it all, I thought that you were still gone, that you'd never been here, that it had all been a dream. Chicago, Fuller's, the trip here...I thought I had woken up and it had just all been a dream, that you weren't real, a dream," she said, repeating herself, still clinging to him.
"I'm so sorry, Elizabeth, it’s all my fault. I woke up early, so I thought I'd make myself useful. For you. I took the laundry out of here and started a load. I unwrapped the pots and put them on the mantle, started some coffee and see," he said, pointing to his shirt and the boots, “even got dressed,” he said, sheepishly.
"I'm so sorry, luv, I didn't mean to give you such a terrible scare. But see? I'm right here, real and everything," he said, brushing the hair back out of her face and kissing her softly, "I'm here, Elizabeth, not going anywhere, here with you, okay?"
She nodded, sniffling and kissing him, "I'm sorry, I feel like a big idiot now..."
"No, never! You're not an idiot, I was inconsiderate, I mean, I had these good intentions of making breakfast for you and doing laundry, but I left and should've told you first."
"I was so sure, so scared, that when I’d open that bathroom door, I wouldn't see any of your stuff on the counter. That's when you came in, just as I was getting ready to really fall apart, when I would see that you were never here, weren't...here. Oh, God, I'm so..."
"Lovely. You're so lovely, that’s what you are,” he said, kissing her, holding her tightly. He reached down and picked her up and carried her back to the bed, setting her gently down, he lay down beside her and kissed all her tears away.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, again and again, as he stroked her face and hair.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Buffy said, “you were just doing normal stuff. I’m the one who freaked out. I’m sorry, I…” she stopped suddenly, as a thought so foreign, so alien, came to her that she was scared all over again.
“Did you say you did laundry?”
END CHAPTER 86
CHAPTER 86 – THE NEXT MORNING
July 9, 2008
Wednesday
7:00am
Once again in her own bed, and with William beside her, Buffy slept deeply that night, only stirring to change positions; her around him, him around her, them face to face, her head on his chest, his down to hers.
Early the next morning, William opened his eyes, a soft smile coming to him as he saw her face next to his, her arm loosely thrown around his middle. He stared at her for a while, occasionally his eyes darting to take in the room, which he'd only briefly seen last night. In the early morning sunlight, filtering in through the heavy drapes, he could just barely make out the shapes of the dresser, or the closet, bathroom, and bedroom doors.
He reached over and kissed her softly on the forehead, and watched as she stirred in her sleep, from his kiss, and mumbled, "Fishg, bglih you, William."
"Well, 'fishg, blglih,you too, Elizabeth," he whispered back, smiling at her bit of nonsequitur nonsense.
He closed his eyes and tried to drift back to sleep, but nature was calling strongly, plus the desire to do a bit of exploring, maybe make some breakfast for them, something to show that he could be useful to her, now that they were home.
He carefully slid out from underneath her arm, pulling a pillow under her arm, in his place.
Before going into the bathroom, he’d grabbed his jeans, and took his one clean shirt out of the top dresser drawer. Elizabeth had started to clean it out for him last night, but he had stopped her, telling her that for now, they could share it, after all, wasn’t like he had so much.
Once in the bathroom, he turned on the shower, but found only cold water. Elizabeth had said something about the water heater being outside. Reluctantly, he turned it off; he'd have to find out about that later. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and shaved with the icy water. He dressed, then quietly went back into the bedroom.
As the sun had risen, the shapes in the bedroom had taken on distinctness. One of the things his eyes fell on was the bag on the floor. He grabbed his boots from the side of the bed, picked up the black plastic bag full of dirty clothes, and quietly made his way out the bedroom door. Before shutting it, he set the bag down, then went back into the bedroom and grabbed the wrapped packages off of the dresser.
He looked around the living room. There was a peacefulness to it this early, as the light through the shades blanketed the room in a soft glow. It felt right, somehow, the way this room looked, the way it felt to his senses.
He made his way into the kitchen and made some coffee. While it was brewing, he found the wash machine. Reading the directions on it, on the soap, and on some of the tags of their clothes, he started a load of darks. At least he wouldn't need to worry about using warm or hot water for those.
Next, he unwrapped the packages he'd brought into the kitchen, carefully pulling off the newspaper they were wrapped in. They were the pots they'd bought in Mesa Verde. He went back into the living room and placed them on either side of the mantle, above the fireplace. He'd let Elizabeth decide where they should be displayed best, later.
Satisfied, he went back to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. He found a new carton of milk in the refrigerator and a box of sugar, in one of the cabinets. He fixed his cup, then sat down at the table, looking over the kitchen, while he drank.
Ten minutes and a second cup of coffee later, he decided to have a look around the outside. He put on his boots, laced them up, picked up his mug, and went out through the back porch.
William walked toward the barn. He stopped to have a look inside. He saw piles of tools, rakes, hoes, hoses and the like, first. Next, as he came nearer the center of the barn, he saw some steps leading up to a loft area. He went up those and saw a punching bag, some hand wraps, some gloves, and some powder. He wasn't sure what to make of any of those. Perhaps they'd been his.
From the loft, he could look out at the house. As he looked, he noticed what appeared to be large number windows, if he was seeing it correctly, belonging to an attic or second floor. He hadn't noticed any stairs leading up to another floor, so he supposed it must be some sort of attic.
Outside again, he walked around the barn and saw the black DeSoto that Elizabeth had said was his. It was a fine looking car. It looked like the windows had some sort of black material on the inside. He opened the door, and found that it was only a pull-off heavy black plastic. Sitting down in the driver's seat, he put his hands on the wheel and tried to remember what driving felt like, but he couldn't. Of course, he'd seen everyone he knew, over the past 4 weeks, do it at one time or another, but he still hadn't any memory of himself having drove. Of course, he knew he must have, even if in his own faulty memory, cars hadn’t even been invented!
"Well, best get back to the house and make me lady some breakfast," he said, closing the door to the DeSoto.
Buffy stirred and yawned, her hand went upwards to feel William's warm skin.
Suddenly, her eyes shot open, and she looked at the pillow next to her.
"Huh?"
She sat up and looked around. Everything was as she remembered it.
As she remembered it.
As she remembered it from…?
Looking at the floor, she realized there was no black plastic bag. She then looked at the dresser, no packages. Leaning over the edge of his side of the bed, she down at the floor, no boots!
"NO! NO! OH GOD NO!" she said, her heart pounding and her eyes filling with tears. "SPIKE!"
She'd had so many dreams of him over the years, but never like this, never this long; this real! It couldn't be a dream! Could it? She looked around again, sitting on the side of the bed. Her heart felt like it was going to break; a twenty-ton weight upon it. All this, this...everything...Chicago, Fuller's, her friends, the road trip, the RV, all a dream?
She rose heavily from the bed and went over to the dresser; slowly she opened the top drawer and looked in. Just as she remembered! There was no shirt.
Tears were now streaming down her face, and a sob hitched in her chest, spilling out, making her cries sound harsh and loud in the room. She looked at the bathroom and closet doors. Which should she open next, to further prove that he wasn't here, had never been here with her? She walked over to the bathroom door and could barely seeing the handle, for her tears. She stood there shaking, crying, afraid to open it.
William had just walked back into the kitchen from the porch, when he heard her cry, "SPIKE!” with such anguish in it; he nearly dropped his coffee cup. He ran to the bedroom.
Just as she’d started to turn the handle on the bathroom door, the bedroom door burst open, and William had come running in, an alarmed look on his face.
The bed was empty, he turned and saw her standing by the bathroom door, tears streaming down her face, shaking and sobbing as if she was going to break.
"WILLIAM!" she cried, as she flung herself into his arms, "Are you real? Are you? Oh God, Oh William" she said, hugging him so tight, he thought he was going to break, kissing every square inch of him she could reach.
"What's wrong Elizabeth? What happened? What's wrong?"
She laughed and cried at the same time, tears of relief now, "I woke up and you were gone. Then I looked over and saw everything was gone - the laundry bag, your shoes, the packages on the dresser, the shirt in the drawer," she said, still crying. "I thought I'd dreamed it all, I thought that you were still gone, that you'd never been here, that it had all been a dream. Chicago, Fuller's, the trip here...I thought I had woken up and it had just all been a dream, that you weren't real, a dream," she said, repeating herself, still clinging to him.
"I'm so sorry, Elizabeth, it’s all my fault. I woke up early, so I thought I'd make myself useful. For you. I took the laundry out of here and started a load. I unwrapped the pots and put them on the mantle, started some coffee and see," he said, pointing to his shirt and the boots, “even got dressed,” he said, sheepishly.
"I'm so sorry, luv, I didn't mean to give you such a terrible scare. But see? I'm right here, real and everything," he said, brushing the hair back out of her face and kissing her softly, "I'm here, Elizabeth, not going anywhere, here with you, okay?"
She nodded, sniffling and kissing him, "I'm sorry, I feel like a big idiot now..."
"No, never! You're not an idiot, I was inconsiderate, I mean, I had these good intentions of making breakfast for you and doing laundry, but I left and should've told you first."
"I was so sure, so scared, that when I’d open that bathroom door, I wouldn't see any of your stuff on the counter. That's when you came in, just as I was getting ready to really fall apart, when I would see that you were never here, weren't...here. Oh, God, I'm so..."
"Lovely. You're so lovely, that’s what you are,” he said, kissing her, holding her tightly. He reached down and picked her up and carried her back to the bed, setting her gently down, he lay down beside her and kissed all her tears away.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, again and again, as he stroked her face and hair.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Buffy said, “you were just doing normal stuff. I’m the one who freaked out. I’m sorry, I…” she stopped suddenly, as a thought so foreign, so alien, came to her that she was scared all over again.
“Did you say you did laundry?”
END CHAPTER 86