ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES

CHAPTER 87 – FRENCH TOAST & MEMORIES

William looked up at her, “Yeah, laundry,” he said, putting a stray piece of hair behind her ear, “not a complete git; read the directions and all that. Darks together in cold, that’s what I did.”

Buffy let out a sigh of relief, “Well, good. Thank you, it was just unexpected, but in a good way, except for the mind numbing fear. Who would think not seeing a bag full of dirty laundry could send me into a panic?” she grinned, but shuddered none-the-less at the memory.

“Did you say there was coffee?” she asked.

“Yep, might due with another pot though, it’s probably a bit old by now.”

“Old is fine.”

“How about I get you a cup, then start a fresh pot?”

“Sounds great,” she said, smiling.

He left the room and she let out a big sigh. She got up to use the bathroom, this time not afraid to turn the handle. Buffy smiled at seeing his things, swearing to herself that she’d never make an issue, if he didn’t cap the toothpaste and left dirty socks all over the place.

“Thought you were really losing it,” she said to her own reflection.

She was reminded of the hot water heater, by the icy cold water that ran out of both faucets.

William was coming in with the coffee as she was coming out.

“Going somewhere?” he asked.

“Um-hmm,” she said, taking the cup from him and gratefully drinking down some. “I need to light the water heater if we want any hot water today.”

“Yeah, was gonna take a shower this morning, but didn’t fancy a cold one,” he said, “though took plenty of those in Michigan, before…”

“You weren’t the only one,” she said, lightly running her fingers up his arm.

He gave her a huge grin, with just a hint of a blush. One thing she’d discovered over the past month was that William could be, not only serious and romantic, but quite cute and endearing. A dangerous combination! When he smiled like that, all problems were forgotten, all things were possible.

“Wanna come?”

“Definitely, need to know how things work around here.”

She grabbed a box of matches from one of the cabinets and they made their way to the side of the house where the hot water tank stood. She showed him where the pilot light was and the handle to adjust it. He struck the match and heard the ‘whoosh,’ of the gas, as he lit it and the heater kicked on. Closing the door to where the handle and pilot were, he stood up, looking pleased.

“Not a bad start, William,” she said, smiling at him approvingly, “you made coffee, did some laundry, and lit the hot water heater. Not a bad start at all.” She reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He put his arm around her and hugged her to him; “I went to the barn earlier, too. I saw the DeSoto on the other side.”

“You did? What did you think?”

“Looks nice. Still don’t remember how to drive, though.” You’You’ll learn again.”

“When?”

“Well, not today.”

“Tomorrow?”

She looked at him, mouth open.

He laughed at her expression, “I’m just kidding, Elizabeth, don’t want to learn to drive tomorrow. Think I’ll need a little more time to get up my courage. Washing machine is one thing, a car, quite another. Besides, where would I go? Don’t exactly know my way around here.”

“I’ll be happy to teach you whenever you’re ready. Um…maybe Clem can help with that, too.”


They went back to the house. Buffy insisted on making breakfast, after first showing William how to start another load of laundry, light colored things this time, and how to use the dryer.

“French Toast okay?” she asked him.

“Great, want me to do anything?”

“Looks like there’s a new bottle of papaya juice. You could pour…”

“What’s papaya?”

“A fruit, native to Hawaii. It’s pretty good, but if you don’t like it, I think there’s some orange juice,” she said, looking into the refrigerator. “Spoke too soon, just papaya. Sorry.”

He poured himself a little glass and tasted it, holding it in his mouth for a couple of seconds, “Not bad. Pretty good, actually,” he said, pouring the juice into two glasses.

Buffy found some bread from Dudley’s Bakery. She smiled; kno Cle Clem had gone out of his way to go to Santa Ysabel to get it for her. She beat some eggs, adding nutmeg and cinnamon to the mix, before placing the bread into the mixture.

A few minutes later, she had it cooking away on the griddle.

“Smells good,” William said, coming over and putting his arms around her waist, pressing gently into her.

“Better not do that,” she said, smiling, as she pressed back.

He bent over and kissed her on the neck, before pouring himself some more coffee and sitting down at the table and watched her.

A few minutes later they were digging into their breakfasts.

“Good?” she asked.

“Um-hmm. Very,” he said, between bites, “reminds me of how my mum makes it.”

She smiled, missing the present tense of the word; “I remember you telling me that. You’re the one who made it for me this way, the first time we were here.”

William’s hand froze in mid-air, holding the fork, when he realized what he’d said. He’d all but forgotten about his mum, about finding out that she was dead now. How could’ve not remembered? A look of pain crossed his face, as the realization hit him, that he would never see her again. Almost worse still, that he didn’t even know how she’d died, or if he’d been there by her side when she had.

“William? What is it?” Buffy asked, then suddenly it sunk in, the French Toast, his mother. For William, she realized, unlike Spike, it wasn’t that his mother had died over 100 years ago, but as though he had just received the news. Again.

She got up and came around the table, putting her arms around him, “I’m sorry, William, about your mum,” she said, stroking his hair.

“I don’t remember. How can I not remember such a thing?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but I do know what it feels like, I lost my mom, too. About 7 years ago.”

He looked up at her, “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. How did she…”

“Brain tumor. Actually, they got the tumor, but she had an aneurysm, caused by the surgery. It ruptured,” she said, quietly, “it was quick, at least. I came home and found her on the couch…” she said, clearing her throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking her arms that were around him.

“Her name was Joyce. You liked her; she was fond of you, too. You used to come over and talk to her, back before we were together, when you…well, I think you just wanted to be around her and Dawn, hoping I’d show up. Anyway, she used to give you hot cocoa with little marshmallows to drink, as you talked.”

“I just…I wish I could remember how my mum died, if I was there to take care of her. I remember her being sick…I just don’t remember…” William said.

“I’m sure you did what you thought was right for her in the end,” Buffy said, “I’m sure you were a loving son.”

He nodded, “I hope so.”

He cleared his throat and patted her hand, “I’m okay now…just had a…you should go and eat, before your food gets cold.”

“Here, let me just warm these up for a minute,” she said, taking their plates. Buffy sighed silently, as she stood by the microwave, remembering. The death of his mother, had been something so painful, so horrible, that The First had been able to trigger him, by using that memory, back in those dark days in Sunnydale. She hoped that he would never have to face that kind of pain again, the pain and sorrow of all the wrong things he had done. All the losses he incurred; those he had caused.


FLASHBACK:

After they’d come back from Julian, after Giles’ and Robin’s conspiracy to murder Spike, she had gone to him. He’d been back in the basement, their sleeping arrangements together in her room, having fallen apart.

After she’d closed the door in Giles’ face, she’d gone down to the basement to find Spike. He was lying on his side, away from her. From the steps she could see the angry burn mark on his face, which left little to her imagination of how that happened.

“I didn’t know…” she began.

“Don’t,” he , st, stopping her, “knew you didn’t.”

“I still sorry, Spike. Sorry I didn’t catch onto what was going on right under my nose.”

“You wouldn’t have, luv. These are people you trust. They were just doing what they thought was right,” he said, sighing.

“I trust you, Spike. More than Robin, even more than Giles; you’re the one who always, unfailingly has got my back.”

“Appreciate that, luv. But they were right.”

“What? What the hell are you saying, Spike?”

“The trigger, it was still there, still could’ve been used against you, against all the girls, at any time…could’ve hurt you.”

“No, you wouldn’t have, Spike.”

“Buffy,” he said, resignedly.

She came over to the cot and got in with him, nuzzling up against his back, her arm around his middle, “Tell me about it,” she said.

“You know, I went with Robin…”

“No. Not that. About your mom.”

“Buffy, I told you before, in Julian, I don’t want to…”

He had told her that. He had known before what had happened, it was just that with The First’s trigger, then the prokaryote stone, and with whatever Robin had done, it had become more than a memory for him, it had become a torture.

“I think you should anyway,” she said.

He sighed, “Then I don’t think you’ll be wanting to be lying here hugging me, once you hear about it,” he said.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she returned, not moving away, yet closer still.

“I turned her,” Spike said, then stopped waiting for Buffy’s reaction, her revulsion.

“Go on, Spike,” she said, not moving away.

He took a deep breath, “I sired her. She was the first person I ever sired, last one, too, until The First had me…”

She knew from the Council’s records, that after becoming a vampire, going back and killing your family was not at all unusual. It was as if the demon now inhabiting the person’s body wanted to erase all parts of its formerly human self, through its connections by family, friends, etc.

“Why, Spike?”

He made a harsh little noise, “Why? Why? Because, stupid fledgling git that I was, I still loved my mum. She’d been sick, see? With consumption, knew it was only a matter of time, probably within the year, that she might die. I figured that if I sired her, she would be with me forever, that I could save her from death. See, what I’d been feeling was so powerful, so…told you this before, being dead made me feel alive for the first time, not living by society’s rules and all that rot…”

“So, you sired her. What happened then?”

“Well, mum’s demon didn’t much care for her former son a bit. Called me out on every single thing I’d feared and loathed about myself as a human, bad poetry, mama’s boy, you name it, she bore into me with a vengeance that Anyanka could appreciate. Wanted nothing to do with me, what-so-ever. So, I dusted her.”

“Because she rejected you?” Buffy asked, surprised. Spike wasn’t a quitter in the face of rejection, that much she knew.

“Not that. It was because of what she’d become. She was no longer my mum, I knew that then, and…I couldn’t bear the thought of her being that…monster. So yeah, I dusted her and with that act, even more than Dru siring me, William was no more. I gave myself over to the debauchery, murder, and mayhem that was my birthright, or deathright, if you will, as a vampire. William died and Spike was born that night. William was done with, gone, adios, good-riddance, that is, until I met you.”

“You see…it was all those year ago…but I never forgot the loathing she looked at me with, spoke to me with…I though, maybe it was what my mum had really felt for me, she’d just couldn’t say it until she’d become a vampire.”

“No, Spike!”

“I know, Buffy. That’s the thing that happened tonight. I finally realized that it was the demon talking. Sure, it called me on the carpet for all the things that I was insecure about or feared. That’s what demons do. Realized that for the first time in over 100 years, it was the demon, not my mum. She loved me and I loved her. Thanked the principal for that, actually. Not under The First or anyone else’s control now. I’m nobody’s bitch now.”

END FLASHBACK


The microwave bell dinged, and she brought their plates back to the table.

Having already caused Elizabeth a great scare that morning, William was determined not to let the pain over his mum brher her any more on his behalf, so when he got his re-warmed breakfast back, he changed the subject to other things, and their mood lightened.

She watched him, as he talked about the house, about the pots he’d placed over the mantle, about the barn, and other little things. And she couldn’t help but be in awe. Awe that he was actually sitting there, across from her, having breakfast, as if it were the most natural thing. As if, five years hadn’t passed, as if he hadn’t died and come back as his formerly human self.

Buffy didn’t realize that William had stopped speaking a while ago and was now just looking at her gawking at him, with a quizzical expression on his face.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Bored you silly, eh? Prattling on? I do that sometimes, have to learn not…”

“I wasn’t bored.”

“No? Figured I’d lost you about 3 minutes ago, from the look on your face.”

“I was just…appreciating you,” she said, smiling.

“Appreciating me, huh?” he laughed softly, “haven’t done much to be appreciated for, really. Though I suppose the laundry gets me brownie points, as Dawn would call them.”

Buffy shook her head, “Not for something stupid like laundry. Even though doing laundry is a good thing. A very good thing.”

She got up from her chair and slowly came over to his. She motioned for him to pull his out, and as he did so, she sat down, straddling his lap.

Her arms went up around his neck, and her eyes looked into his, “I love you,” she said, kissing his forehead, then his eyes, “I love you,” she repeated, as she rubbed noses with him and found his lips and kissed those softly.

His arms tightened around her, as he deepened the kiss, moaning as she ground into his lap, “I love you too, Elizabeth. So much, so much,” he murmured to her, his hands slipping up under her top.

Buffy let out a whimpering sound, as his clever, fine hands expertly cupped a breast in each, fingers and thumbs teasing her nipples, as his mouth made other promises that her body responded to.

“Remember what I told you we’d do the first day?” she whispered, as she ground down on his lap, feeling his hardness underneath her.

“Sex, eat, sleep,” he said, grinning.

“Hold on,” he said to her, and stood up, with her still around him. He got his balance, but not before knocking the chair over. She squealed as he almost stumbled backwards onto the downed chair.

“Lemme down!”

“No! I’ve got you right where I want you,” he said, holding onto her legs, which wrapped around him, as he made his way to the bedroom.

END CHAPTER 87