ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,434
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
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Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,434
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.
ALONE AND TOGETHER
CHAPTER 99 - ALONE AND TOGETHER
Buffy awoke in the morning, the same as she’d gone to sleep hours before, feeling William’s hands rubbing her back, soothing her. But of course, he couldn’t have been doing it all that time. Right?
He knew she was waking by the feel of her eyelashes fluttering on his chest, by her hands that stretched open, gently rubbing his shoulder, by her body as it shifted closer into his.
She looked up at him, her expression, questioning, when she saw his red rimmed and bloodshot eyes.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Didn’t you sleep?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a little, probably not.”
She didn’t know what to say to him, so she kissed him softly. She felt him stir, as she leaned into him, but as she tried to deepen the kiss, he ended it chastely, by kissing her on the forehead. Gently he pulled out of her embrace and got up.
“Would you like some breakfast?”
“Um…sure. That would be nice,” she answered. She wanted to say was, “What I really want is you,” but she didn’t.
“Be out in a little while,” she said.
“Alright,” he said, already at the door.
She came out to the kitchen a few minutes later; she picked up her coffee cup that had already been poured for her and took a sip. William had his back to her.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“No thanks. Almost done; hope scrambled eggs are alright.”
“Sure,” she answered. He hadn’t looked at her since she’d come into the kitchen, which she thought was kind of peculiar.
They ate breakfast in mostly silence, William only answering a direct question or comment by her. She noticed, too, that he wasn’t eating very much. He’d mostly pushed his eggs around the plate, taking only a few bites, and having about a half piece of toast with some blackberry jam.
When she’d finished eating, he’d gotten up to take her plate, but she stopped him. “I’ll do the dishes, after all, you cooked. Why don’t you go out to the living room and relax a while? I’ll join you when I’m done, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, getting up.
She watched his back as he left the kitchen. She was almost sure that he’d sounded relieved to be…what? Getting out of doing dishes? Most likely not that, as he didn’t seem to have any qualms about pitching in and helping in that way. Then what? Relieved to be getting away from her? It hurt her to think that, but he’d been acting so strange ever since last night, she couldn’t help but let her mind go there.
She washed the dishes, then peeked into the living room. He was sitting there, one of the library books in his hands, but he appeared to be just sng ong off into space, rather than reading it. She busied herself with more grunt work, cleaning off the stove, the counter tops, the table, even mopping the floor; all the while checking on William every so often.
When she finally came into the living room, coffee in hand, some 40 minutes later, she found him slumped over on the couch, the book still in his hands.
She lifted up his legs, so that they were on the couch and pulled him by the shoulders, so that he was fully stretched out. Next, she took the throw off the couch and tucked it around him and got a pillow from the bedroom and put it under his head.
Buffy looked down at him, gently pushing some hair off his forehead, “It’s alright William, you get some sleep now,” she whispered.
He only mumbled back something unintelligible, and let out a soft snore.
She picked up his coffee cup and took it to the kitchen. Just as she put it into the sink, she heard her phone.
“Shit!” she said, hurrying to the bedroom to retrieve it.
She closed the door before answering it, “Hello,” she whispered.
“Buffy? Hey, it’s Clem! I wanted to know if Spike, er, I mean William wanted to work on the car today?”
“I don’t know…”
“Or I could take him driving. How did he like the driving lessons?”
“He liked them fine, but I don’t know if he’s up for it today. He had sort of a…bad night and he’s just fallen asleep.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
t hat happened? Um…if you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
Buffy sighed, “I’m not sure. You know we went to the DMV and all that, then I was teaching him to drive around here for about an hour, but he wanted to go somewhere else, so we went to the high school’s parking lot and around Julian. Then we had lunch at The Rittenhouse. He met Edna and Wallace.”
“How did that go?”
“It was okay. I mean Edna got a bit emotional, but I’d already warned him about that, and he seemed to be handling it. As he said, he’s sort of used to people he knew before having strange reactions to him,” she said.
“Well, glad to hear that went well.”
“Uh…yeah, that was okay,” she said, distractedly. As she’d retold this part, a little something in her brain had started to make her spidey senses tingle.
“So, what happened after that?”
“Nothing much, we came back home, just hung around. We watched some show, drank some wine, then went to bed. Then, around 3:00 or 3:30am, I woke up and he was gone, I mean, he wasn’t gone-gone, but not in bed, not in the house. I found him outside and he was seriously freaked out by some dream he had,” she said, pausing. “When I finally got him to talk to me, he asked me if…if Spike would hurt me, or if he had.”
“Oh dear,” Clem mused, “what did you say?”
“I told him no, of course.”
“So, you think he was dreaming of himself as Spike, and that he hurt you?”
“Kind of sounds like it.”
“That’s not good, especially since he doesn’t know everything and it sounds as if he’s just getting some mixed-up bits in a nightmare.”
“Exactly! And by the way, when did you become all Psych101-like?”
Clem giggled, “It was my minor in school.”
“After cooking? Shouldn’t cooking have a minor like refrigeration or something?”
“Well, actually it was my major, before I went to *France to the cooking school. I just couldn’t take having to deal with everyone’s pain.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I didn’t mean yours and Spike’s, I can deal with that,” he said in his always cheery Clem fashion.
“Uh…thanks, I think.”
“You’re welcome. Go on with the story.”
“No story really, just he was freaked. Now he’s passed out on the couch.”
“Passed out?”
“Oh, yeah, forgot to mention he’d been drinking again last night when I found him,” Buffy said, with a bit of a scolding inflection in her voice to let Clem know she thought he was quite possibly responsible for having initiated William in the ways of the bottle. “Guess he was trying to dull the pain. I don’t think he slept at all last night, after I got him back to bed. So yeah, he’s rather passed out on the couch now.”
“Well, he’ll probably feel a lot better after he’s had some sleep then.”
“I hope so, Clem. He was still acting all wiggy this morning.”
“I’ll call him later in the afternoon; see if he wants to do anything.”
“Okay, but I sort of think today’s not going to be the best day for him. I was afraid yesterday was going to be too much. But yeah, go ahead and call. Maybe he’ll be all better and…whatever by then.”
“Okay. Talk to you later.”
“Bye, Clem.”
“Bye, Buffy.”
She hung up the phone and went back into the living room. William was still in the same position, not that there were many positions to be in on the couch, snoring away.
In her mind, she reviewed yesterday’s events, trying to figure out what may have triggered his subconscious, which resulted in the nightmare. First she went through the events at the DMV. Normal-nightmarish and bureaucratic-nightmarish, but still, not Hellmouth-nightmarish.
Next, she thought about the driving lessons. There were some weird moments before they went into town, but that seemed to be just on the level of insecurities they both felt sometimes. Well, at least as far as she could tell from what he said, since she didn’t know what he’d been thinking.
Finally, her thoughts brought her to the restaurant and the interactions they’d had with Edna and Wallace. They talked, they’d eaten. Her, Fettuccini Alfredo, and William, steak. Steak. Maybe that was it!
William had been totally revolted by the bloody steak. At the time, she thought it pretty ironic in a long line of recent ironies, but now looking back; it seemed his revulsion was a bit more than what she would have thought was ‘normal;’ whatever ‘normal revulsion’ for a bloody steak should be, that is. So, what did that mean, then?
She ran her hands through her hair, as she stared at him. Would a bloody steak be enough to trigger nightmares of pain and suffering; of him or Spike hurting her? Didn’t seem likely, yet, unless all of it was unrelated, there it was. Then there had been what Edna had said, about William having always ordered it that way, until she backpedaled, when Buffy had given her a ‘look.’
Lastly, there was the little blast to the past when Wallace told William he remembered him and gave him a physical description of Spike, down to every detail, including the cold hands. Which of course, could just be attributed to the weather, or maybe he’d just helped Edna take out some ice cream. In any case, those were the possible explanations she’d come up with, should he have asked.
She was just grateful that Wallace wasn’t 10 years older than he was. If he’d been their age, and he’d talked about William from when he was 7, that would have been a lot harder to explain to William how he’d dressed and looked like a ‘rock-star’ when he was a kid, too. Her head spun, just thinking about it.
So many close calls with the truth she was trying to shield him from.
Buffy itched to go out to the barn, up to the loft and hit the punching bag for a good long while. Just for the sake of getting out some frustrations. She hadn’t done anything even close to training, in God knew how long, but as far as slaying went though, she felt she was retired for good. She’d given it a good, long seven years of her life, had lost almost everything she’d ever held near and dear, and that was enough. Still, old habits died hard, and besides, she liked working out.
She looked over at William and sighed, giving up the idea of leaving the house even for a short while. Instead, she decided that she’d do some paper work, pay some bills, and go online while he slept. It gave her a reason to stay close by, without seeming like she was just hovering, which of course, she was.
Looking at her watch, she noticed it was 10:00am, hmm, that made it evening in England, maybe she’d be able to catch Willow online, she thought.
Logging on, she checked her email. There was a letter to all the teachers about a couple of meetings scheduled within the next couple of weeks. Well, she could chuck those.
Next there was a letter from Mrs. Carpello, asking if her and William could both meet with her before the second meeting, as she would be out of town for the first. She urged Elizabeth to go to the first meeting, despite her reservations.
That was all the letter said.
“Couldn’t have been a bit more forthcoming, could you?” she grumbled to herself.
Well, she’d decide later if she’d make that first meeting or not.
There was an email from Andrew from a few days back. It read:
July 20, 2008
9:00pm
Dear Buffy,
I’ve been waiting to hear from you, but since I didn’t, I talked to Dawn a couple of days ago and she told me that you had found Spike and now had him home with you.
I’m so happy for you! You must be thrilled to have him back!
I’d love to come see you guys sometime or meet up with you somewhere (no frisking this time, okay?) but I know you’re probably busy right now.
Don’t’ worry about my saying anything about Spike to anyone. Just wanted to say that.
That’s about it, give my best to Spike.
Andrew
She sighed, she knew that she should have written to Andrew or called him to thank him for all his help, but she’d put it off, because she was still afraid that she couldn’t trust him completely.
She decided to go ahead and respond.
July 24, 2008
11:32am
Hey Andrew!
Good to hear from you. Sorry I didn’t contact you earlier. I’m sorry that you had to hear it from Dawn instead of me.
I suppose you know that ‘he’ doesn’t have any memory of anything that has transpired in his life, except for when he was a young man, before…
But despite this shock to his whole being, he’s doing quite well.
Sorry to be so cryptic, but I guess you know how I feel about certain things.
I think, sometime in the future, he might want to pick your brain on certain technical or computer-y type things that you could certainly explain much better than me. Not to mention I don’t even understand them, I just know how to use them, but he wants to know how things work. Must be a guy thing. LOL
Hopefully, we’ll be able to meet up sometime in the next few months, perhaps.
Take care,
Buffy
P.S. I’d appreciate it if you would erase your email to me so that a certain person’s name wouldn’t be on there. Sorry about the paranoia…but I’ve seen the lengths a certain person will go to hurt him and I just don’t want any reason (any more reason!) to worry.
P.S.S. You can always call Dawn to get a message to me. The phones I bought for us expired, I think.
P.S.S.S. Delete this email, too. Okay?
The next email was from Dawn. She told her about the call from Andrew, about her enrolling in classes for the new semester, and about her finally getting to spend some quality time with Dr. John and how well that was going.
Dawn wanted to know if Buffy had planned anything for William’s birthday, and if she had any ideas on what she might buy him. She said to tell him she said hello.
Buffy emailed her back, letting her know she still wasn’t sure what she was going to do for his birthday, but that Dawn would definitely be included, no matter their plans, and that she’d think about what she should get him. She also gave Dawn William’s email address and told her that she should call him soon, that he would probably really appreciate talking to her.
She told Dawn about the car and William learning to drive, but didn’t go into what had been happening since the day before.
Next, she looked for Willow online, but not finding her there, decided she’d pay some of her bills. Luckily, she could do them all online, though she didn’t think it took any less time than good old fashioned check and stamp methods used to, probably more, in fact.
She wrote to Willow, asking her to please I.M. her, as soon as she got her email.
She killed some time surfing the web, just letting one link lead her to another; anything to distract her from the increasing anxiety she was feeling over this latest thing with William.
Finally, she perused some food sites, finally finding a recipe for soup that she could make, since she had most of the ingredients. She hand copied it, so the noise from the printer wouldn’t wake up William, then went to the kitchen to get it started.
It took her the better part of an hour, all the while checking on him to see that he was still asleep, still alright, to put it all together; peel all the vegetables, potatoes, add all the ingredients, etc.
Once she had it cooking and was able to turn down the heat, she made herself a quick sandwich for lunch. Just as she sat down and was about to take a bite, she heard the chime of the Instant Message of her computer.
“Crap!” she said, hurrying to turn off the sound before it awoke William, but he seemed l tol totally unaware of the world around him, as he snored on, as before.
MRW: Hi Buffy!
MRW: Buffy, you there?
Buffy I.M.’d back, using her new code with Willow, RS03, which stood for, ‘Retired Slayer 2003’ while Willow’s new one, MRW, stood for, ‘Mostly Reformed Witch.’
RS03: I’m here, hey Willow
MRW: Hey Buffy, did you get all the papers?
RS03: yeah, I got them the next day
MRW: good…so what’s new?
Buffy briefly told her of the car, the driving lessons, and of Edna, then she told her of last night.
MRW: did he tell you exactly what he’d dreamed?
RS03: no, I don’t think he could talk about it, don’t think he wanted to put it into words, but I got the idea it must have been pretty horrible
MRW: horrible, like at the Grand Canyon horrible?
RS03: likely, in a different way. I’m just grateful he didn’t go into that sort of catatonia he did back there
MRW: maybe you should just tell him about everything Buffy
RS03: I don’t know
MRW: well, it’s obvious that somewhere inside that head of his, he’s channeling Spike’s memories or something, but he only is getting the worse of it, if not some new, horrible made up versions, like where he hurts you…well besides all the plotting to kill you, I guess he did that time…you know, when I was sort of bad myself
RS03: no, I don’t think that’s the kind of dream he had, not that kind of hurt, besides, we resolved all that between us ages ago. I wish everyone would just forget it already, I have!
MRW: consider it forgotten by yours truly, but what if he doesn’t know it’s all resolved, as you put it?
RS03: you think that’s what he dreamed?
MRW: who knows? Could be any variation of truth, wishes, desires, dreams, past, present, etc., etc.
RS03: that narrows it down plenty
RS03: not!
MRW: sorry, guess that’s not much help, huh?
RS03: not really
MRW: I still think you should tell him, give him a chance to come to grips with the truth, rather than with bits of truth, blended in with a lot of nightmares
RS03: don’t you think I’ve considered that? I think about it all the time. When will I do it? When is the best time? Will he just remember? What ifs on top of what ifs!
MRW: I know
RS03: but I can’t come up with any answers, I don’t have any and yet I’m the one he’s depending on for them; at least he should be able to depend on me for them
MRW: I know…and however, whenever YOU decide to tell him, he’ll have you to help him cope
RS03: and to hate for having lied to him
MRW: you’re not lying out of malice Buffy, you’re lying to protect him
RS03: think he’ll recognize the difference when his whole world crashes in?
MRW: maybe not at first, because anybody in his position, is going to have a lot to deal with…and so do you for that matter…but I think eventually he’ll come to grips with it
RS03: not like I could’ve just walked into the hospital room and told him all about himself now was it?
MRW: of course not
RS03: and so many other instances where he’s been so fragile from just a glimpse of something past or some other ‘William’ insecurity…it breaks my heart Willow! How can I add a freakin’ ton of misery onto that? Tell me, please!?!
MRW: I don’t know Buffy, I’ve no magic for it, no right answer. Only, I wouldn’t let it go too long. Maybe if he knows, then he’ll become stronger, be able to go on and have that normal life with you
RS03: yeah, I can see the headlines, “Former Slayer and Former Vampire Now Living a Normal Life in California Hideaway,” read the w sto story in next week’s Enquirer, available at your newsstand!
MRW: kinda catchy, maybe you should write a book instead
RS03: Oh that I could! If not, always have Andrew ghost write it for me, right?
MRW: he-he…Well, don’t know if I was any help to you
RS03: always helps to talk, makes me think outside of myself…so yeah, think it did…you always do
MRW: thanks
They talked a while longer about Willow’s work and school and about Kennedy and her classes. Kennedy was thinking of taking off a semester to get a bit more involved with the slaying and Willow wasn’t too happy about that. She told Buffy that she’d been evasive about her trip back to the states, as far as Giles was concerned. Telling her that he seemed to accept not exactly being in the loop.
Buffy thought that if Giles wanted to be in the ‘loop’ then surely, he’d find a way to do so. She hoped Willow was right; she didn’t want him knowing about William.
By the time she’d finished talking with Willow it was almost 2:30pm. She went to the kitchen and found her uneaten sandwich still on the table.
“Probably spoiled by now, huh?” she asked it.
It didn’t answer, but she tossed it away anyway and settled on a lowfat yogurt and some non-lowfat potato chips.
She stirred the soup, turning it down to low, sint wat was quick evaporating. She added another cup of water.
“So much for my cooking abilities; I suck!”
Buffy felt restless, having to sit around the house all day while being quiet. It looked like a lovely day outdoors and she was... She clamped her hand to her mouth, as if it were the same as having clamped it to the inside of her brain, which had suddenly come up with the word, ‘trapped.’
“God, not only do I suck at cooking, I obviously suck at compassion as well,” she said to herself, “how can I be thinking this?”
Buffy’s brain tried to rationalize it for her; “It’s not real, just an errant thought, just like William’s dream wasn’t real.”
“Yeah, but at least he was asleep, I’m standing here in the kitchen arguing with myself and having, ‘my, but aren’t we the selfish bitch?’ thoughts.”
“Hey, what do you want from me? I’m only you.”
“Stupid brain!”
“Whatever.”
“Shut-up already!”
Buffy looked in the cupboards for anything sweet she could make. She found a box of ‘Easy Rice Pudding.’
“Sounds all British-y,” she mused, reading the directions.
Half an hour later, she was wiping the hair out of her face as she fought to get the pudding the right consistency, before leaving it on low to simmer a while.
“Easy my ass! Should’ve just made some instant vanilla pudding, mixed in some white rice, thrown some cinnamon and nutmeg on it and let that be, but noooo! Of course not, I’ve got to try to get all kiss-the-cook-like, all domestic-goddess- like. Yep, that’s me, all domestic, all normal, all so full of crap and good intentions.”
Finally, it seemed as if it was coming together, more or less, so she turned the heat down, set the timer for an hour, and decided to go read something.
Buffy sat down across from William, and picked up a book she’d started to read last June. Determinedly, she turned to the page with her bookmark and tried to pick up the story, but she found herself either looking at William, or thinking about him, not the book.
Next she tried a magazine, which she figured wouldn’t use up too many brain cells when she tried to concentrate.
“Something dentist office-y,” she thought, picking up an old People Magazine. But still, her brain wouldn’t still enough for her to enjoy even this stupidest of vicarious pleasures, reading about the lives of the stars and other famous people.
The whole time she’d been sitting there, she knew that what she really wanted was to go and curl up next to William. But sidn’idn’t want to disturb him. What’s more, not since the first night, or rather first early morning when they’d arrived in Michigan did she have more doubts about his wanting her presence next to him.
Despite her misgivings, or perhaps even to prove her feelings wrong, she could no longer deny herself the physical closeness that she so suddenly, desperately craved; she rose and walked over to the couch.
It hadn’t just been that William had been napping the day away that had gotten to her. It was that she’d felt alone. Not like she’d felt when living here by herself, which she’d adapted to, but much worse, alone and together, at the same time.
He lay facing outward. Quietly, she lay down next to him, facing him. She resisted the urge to put her arm around him and draw in closer; instead she just tentatively rested her hand lightly on his chest, her head near, but not quite touching. She hadn’t even pulled the throw over herself, instead, just lay on the edge of it. Telling herself she would get up as soon as the timer for the rice pudding rang, she closed her eyes and was soon asleep.
William opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself on the couch. Looking next to him, he was almost as surprised to find Elizabeth next to him, barely there, yet near. He pulled the edge of the throw out from under her and put it around her, and pulled her in closer. She responded in her sleep, by putting hers around him and burrowing her head in his chest, entwining her legs with his.
His mind was foggy, as he searched his memory of when he’d fallen asleep here; by the look of the light, it was getting on towards evening. Thinking back, he remembered bits and pieces of the day before, of breakfast, and not much else.
The smell of her hair and the warmth of her body were distracting him. He kissed the top of her head and ran his hand along her back, to her hip. She moaned softly in her sleep and pulled his face down to hers.
Their lips met, and she moaned again, as he pressed his body into hers. He pulled her on top of him, as his hands went underneath her shirt, while she found his neck was a lovely place for her lips to kiss, as were his earlobes…
And then it came back to him; a feeling more than a memory, but it made him grab his head and stop moving in tandem with Elizabeth suddenly.
Buffy felt his abrupt stop in what had been a lovely couple of minutes. She brought her face up off his neck, “What is it?” she asked.
He looked at her, a confused, pained look in his eye.
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”
They jumped at the harsh noise being emitted in pulses, “What the…?” he asked, alarmed.
“Crap! It’s the smoke detector. Crap, crap, crap,” she said, jumping off him and running out to the kitchen.
The room was filled with smoke. She ran to the stove and saw the cause of it. Her rice pudding had burned down to the very bottom of the pan, and now the pan was scorching from the heat.
“Be careful!” William said, right behind her, grabbing her just as she was about to put her hand on the pan’s handle.
“You’re right,” she said, getting an oven mitt.
“Let me,” he said, taking it from her.
“Okay.”
She turned off the stove, noting it had been past medium, rather than the low, which she’d thought she’d turned it to. Must have been the opposite side of the button with the marks on it.
“Open the door,” William said, grabbing the pan’s handle with both hands, though she’d only given him one oven mitt.
She opened the porch door; then the outside door and he went out into the yard. She showed him where the water hose was attached to the tank, and he turned it on, dousing the super heated pan. He took the glove off, running his hands under the water.
“Did you burn yourself? Let me see!”
“No, I’m alright, just… guess I should've just used one hand, huh?"
She looked at the palm of his right hand, it was red.
“I’m sorry,” she said, kissing the inside, as the cold water dripped down the front of her shirt off his hand.
“Ow, guess I did get burned a bit when I tried to steady the handle. Thought the mitt was covering it when I put this hand over the other one. Don’t think it’s too serious though.”
“I'm so sorry William."
“Don't be, I’m fine. Really! Let’s go back in, nothing you can do about that pan, I think,” he said looking down at the black-burnt inside of the pan.
“Probably not. I’m still sorry though.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Lets see, first off, I ruined the pan, because I can’t cook for crap, and secondly, because of that, your hand is burned.”
“There are worse things,” he said, smiling crookedly at her.
She nodded, “Yeah, guess so," she said as they walked back inside.
After disabling the still buzzing smoke detector, she checked the soup, which now had about a half inch of actual soup, piled high with a lot of vegetables.
“I really do suck at this,” she said.
“Smells good,” he offered, “I’m sure it’ll taste fine, too.”
“Confidence, I remember confidence,” she said, dishing out a bowl.
He fidgeted a bit with the spoon she’d offered him.
“Hand still hurting?”
“A bit,” he admitted.
“Hold on.”
She came back in a few minutes with a cool, small towel, “Here, you can wrap this around your hand, it'll probably make it feel better and you can still hold onto your spoon with your left,” she said.
"I probably should anyway, seeing as I'm left-handed. It's just when I was raised, I was always reminded to eat with my right, despite being a bit different," he said, a small laugh.
Buffy smiled. Yep, that was him alright, just a bit different. She rolled her eyes at him.
The mood had lightened from earlier in the day over as they ate their dinner, laughed at her misguided attempts at ‘Easy Rice Pudding,’ and retired to the living room for the evening.
William tried to read, but his hand kept bothering him.
“Bugger!” he exclaimed, then apologized for the language.
Buffy had given up trying to tell him he didn’t always have to worry if he let a not-so-nice word slip here and there. Instead, she'd come to rather like the way he cared about how he sounded to her, or if she would be offended. Not that she was.
She brought him a small pan of cool water, with a few ice cubes, so they could refresh the towels on his hand.
They were watching some nature program on whales when he started to fidget with his hand again.
“Here, let me,” she said, kneeling down in front of him, as she tried to take his hand in hers to remove the towel.
“You don’t have to do that, I’m perfectly…”
“…Capable of doing it myself, blah, blah, blah…heard it already,” she said, looking up at him, “and I know you are, William. I want do this for you, okay?”
He leaned back with a sigh and let her do it. As she looked at his palm, she could only see the faintest traces of pink, which could have been just from the cooled water. However, as the evening wore on, he seemed to be having more, rather than less discomfort, so she reapplied the towel.
She went to the kitchen and got him a couple of aspirin, hoping it would take some of the pain away. Then she went into the bathroom and looked through her first aid kit. Finally, she came across a mixture of Aloe Vera and Solarcaine, which she though he might be able to use on his palm overnight to take the burn out.
When they get ready for bed, Buffy applies the ointment to his hands.
“Feel good?” she asks, as he lies back, trying to keep his hand off of the blankets.
“Yes, but it’ll get on everything.”
“Not for a while, and it’ll still have time to help your skin, right?”
“Guess so.”
“Wait a minute, I’ve got an idea,” she says, going to the closet.
“A glove?” he asks, dismayed.
“Well, sure. The stuff will rub off a bit inside, but it’ll still be all medicine-y inside, so it might help.”
William allows her to put the glove on him, wincing as they slid over his hand.
“How’s that?”
He nodded, surprised by the difference he felt, “Actually, rather feels good. Don’t exactly know why…”
Buffy smiled at him, triumphantly, “Good. That’s a good thing, doesn’t matter why.”
“Thanks, Elizabeth,” he said, looking at her seriously, “not just for this," he said waving his gloved fingers at her, "but for everything you’ve done, everything ever since…”
“Shhh,” she answered, silencing him with a kiss. It had been such a strange day, she didn’t even want to think what he meant, what kinds of thoughts were roiling about in that head of his. “We’re together William. In it together, no matter what, okay?”
“Together,” he whispered back, pulling her down on his chest, as his gloved hand stroked her back.
Reluctantly, she rose to turn off the lights, then settled back into bed, snuggling up to him.
She turned her face to kiss him. He hesitated.
“It’s alright,” she murmured, “I don’t want anything, but I can make you happy,” she said, as she stroked the lower part of his stomach. She could feel the heat beneath her hand, feel part of him rise up to meet her, at the same time, she could feel him shake his head. His gloved hand came down over hers.
“No, don’t, it’s just…tired…okay?”
She stopped, “Okay,” she said, settling herself back next to him, trying not to feel rejected. Only partly succeeding.
He turned over, so she wouldn’t be able to see his face, his eyes, wouldn’t be able to feel how much he wanted her, wanted to have her please him.
He reached behind him, to pull her arm around him, and gives her hand a kiss, before settling it on his chest; “G'night, Elizabeth, I love you.”
"I love you too, William," she says, spooning up against his back. But the words don't warm her like they should and once more, she feels alone, rather than together.
END CHAPTER 99
*The story of how Clem was formerly human, how he had gone to a famous cooking school in France, and also how he had been saved by Spike, can be found in Ch. 21 of ONE NORMAL DAY.
Buffy awoke in the morning, the same as she’d gone to sleep hours before, feeling William’s hands rubbing her back, soothing her. But of course, he couldn’t have been doing it all that time. Right?
He knew she was waking by the feel of her eyelashes fluttering on his chest, by her hands that stretched open, gently rubbing his shoulder, by her body as it shifted closer into his.
She looked up at him, her expression, questioning, when she saw his red rimmed and bloodshot eyes.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“Didn’t you sleep?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a little, probably not.”
She didn’t know what to say to him, so she kissed him softly. She felt him stir, as she leaned into him, but as she tried to deepen the kiss, he ended it chastely, by kissing her on the forehead. Gently he pulled out of her embrace and got up.
“Would you like some breakfast?”
“Um…sure. That would be nice,” she answered. She wanted to say was, “What I really want is you,” but she didn’t.
“Be out in a little while,” she said.
“Alright,” he said, already at the door.
She came out to the kitchen a few minutes later; she picked up her coffee cup that had already been poured for her and took a sip. William had his back to her.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“No thanks. Almost done; hope scrambled eggs are alright.”
“Sure,” she answered. He hadn’t looked at her since she’d come into the kitchen, which she thought was kind of peculiar.
They ate breakfast in mostly silence, William only answering a direct question or comment by her. She noticed, too, that he wasn’t eating very much. He’d mostly pushed his eggs around the plate, taking only a few bites, and having about a half piece of toast with some blackberry jam.
When she’d finished eating, he’d gotten up to take her plate, but she stopped him. “I’ll do the dishes, after all, you cooked. Why don’t you go out to the living room and relax a while? I’ll join you when I’m done, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, getting up.
She watched his back as he left the kitchen. She was almost sure that he’d sounded relieved to be…what? Getting out of doing dishes? Most likely not that, as he didn’t seem to have any qualms about pitching in and helping in that way. Then what? Relieved to be getting away from her? It hurt her to think that, but he’d been acting so strange ever since last night, she couldn’t help but let her mind go there.
She washed the dishes, then peeked into the living room. He was sitting there, one of the library books in his hands, but he appeared to be just sng ong off into space, rather than reading it. She busied herself with more grunt work, cleaning off the stove, the counter tops, the table, even mopping the floor; all the while checking on William every so often.
When she finally came into the living room, coffee in hand, some 40 minutes later, she found him slumped over on the couch, the book still in his hands.
She lifted up his legs, so that they were on the couch and pulled him by the shoulders, so that he was fully stretched out. Next, she took the throw off the couch and tucked it around him and got a pillow from the bedroom and put it under his head.
Buffy looked down at him, gently pushing some hair off his forehead, “It’s alright William, you get some sleep now,” she whispered.
He only mumbled back something unintelligible, and let out a soft snore.
She picked up his coffee cup and took it to the kitchen. Just as she put it into the sink, she heard her phone.
“Shit!” she said, hurrying to the bedroom to retrieve it.
She closed the door before answering it, “Hello,” she whispered.
“Buffy? Hey, it’s Clem! I wanted to know if Spike, er, I mean William wanted to work on the car today?”
“I don’t know…”
“Or I could take him driving. How did he like the driving lessons?”
“He liked them fine, but I don’t know if he’s up for it today. He had sort of a…bad night and he’s just fallen asleep.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.”
t hat happened? Um…if you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
Buffy sighed, “I’m not sure. You know we went to the DMV and all that, then I was teaching him to drive around here for about an hour, but he wanted to go somewhere else, so we went to the high school’s parking lot and around Julian. Then we had lunch at The Rittenhouse. He met Edna and Wallace.”
“How did that go?”
“It was okay. I mean Edna got a bit emotional, but I’d already warned him about that, and he seemed to be handling it. As he said, he’s sort of used to people he knew before having strange reactions to him,” she said.
“Well, glad to hear that went well.”
“Uh…yeah, that was okay,” she said, distractedly. As she’d retold this part, a little something in her brain had started to make her spidey senses tingle.
“So, what happened after that?”
“Nothing much, we came back home, just hung around. We watched some show, drank some wine, then went to bed. Then, around 3:00 or 3:30am, I woke up and he was gone, I mean, he wasn’t gone-gone, but not in bed, not in the house. I found him outside and he was seriously freaked out by some dream he had,” she said, pausing. “When I finally got him to talk to me, he asked me if…if Spike would hurt me, or if he had.”
“Oh dear,” Clem mused, “what did you say?”
“I told him no, of course.”
“So, you think he was dreaming of himself as Spike, and that he hurt you?”
“Kind of sounds like it.”
“That’s not good, especially since he doesn’t know everything and it sounds as if he’s just getting some mixed-up bits in a nightmare.”
“Exactly! And by the way, when did you become all Psych101-like?”
Clem giggled, “It was my minor in school.”
“After cooking? Shouldn’t cooking have a minor like refrigeration or something?”
“Well, actually it was my major, before I went to *France to the cooking school. I just couldn’t take having to deal with everyone’s pain.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I didn’t mean yours and Spike’s, I can deal with that,” he said in his always cheery Clem fashion.
“Uh…thanks, I think.”
“You’re welcome. Go on with the story.”
“No story really, just he was freaked. Now he’s passed out on the couch.”
“Passed out?”
“Oh, yeah, forgot to mention he’d been drinking again last night when I found him,” Buffy said, with a bit of a scolding inflection in her voice to let Clem know she thought he was quite possibly responsible for having initiated William in the ways of the bottle. “Guess he was trying to dull the pain. I don’t think he slept at all last night, after I got him back to bed. So yeah, he’s rather passed out on the couch now.”
“Well, he’ll probably feel a lot better after he’s had some sleep then.”
“I hope so, Clem. He was still acting all wiggy this morning.”
“I’ll call him later in the afternoon; see if he wants to do anything.”
“Okay, but I sort of think today’s not going to be the best day for him. I was afraid yesterday was going to be too much. But yeah, go ahead and call. Maybe he’ll be all better and…whatever by then.”
“Okay. Talk to you later.”
“Bye, Clem.”
“Bye, Buffy.”
She hung up the phone and went back into the living room. William was still in the same position, not that there were many positions to be in on the couch, snoring away.
In her mind, she reviewed yesterday’s events, trying to figure out what may have triggered his subconscious, which resulted in the nightmare. First she went through the events at the DMV. Normal-nightmarish and bureaucratic-nightmarish, but still, not Hellmouth-nightmarish.
Next, she thought about the driving lessons. There were some weird moments before they went into town, but that seemed to be just on the level of insecurities they both felt sometimes. Well, at least as far as she could tell from what he said, since she didn’t know what he’d been thinking.
Finally, her thoughts brought her to the restaurant and the interactions they’d had with Edna and Wallace. They talked, they’d eaten. Her, Fettuccini Alfredo, and William, steak. Steak. Maybe that was it!
William had been totally revolted by the bloody steak. At the time, she thought it pretty ironic in a long line of recent ironies, but now looking back; it seemed his revulsion was a bit more than what she would have thought was ‘normal;’ whatever ‘normal revulsion’ for a bloody steak should be, that is. So, what did that mean, then?
She ran her hands through her hair, as she stared at him. Would a bloody steak be enough to trigger nightmares of pain and suffering; of him or Spike hurting her? Didn’t seem likely, yet, unless all of it was unrelated, there it was. Then there had been what Edna had said, about William having always ordered it that way, until she backpedaled, when Buffy had given her a ‘look.’
Lastly, there was the little blast to the past when Wallace told William he remembered him and gave him a physical description of Spike, down to every detail, including the cold hands. Which of course, could just be attributed to the weather, or maybe he’d just helped Edna take out some ice cream. In any case, those were the possible explanations she’d come up with, should he have asked.
She was just grateful that Wallace wasn’t 10 years older than he was. If he’d been their age, and he’d talked about William from when he was 7, that would have been a lot harder to explain to William how he’d dressed and looked like a ‘rock-star’ when he was a kid, too. Her head spun, just thinking about it.
So many close calls with the truth she was trying to shield him from.
Buffy itched to go out to the barn, up to the loft and hit the punching bag for a good long while. Just for the sake of getting out some frustrations. She hadn’t done anything even close to training, in God knew how long, but as far as slaying went though, she felt she was retired for good. She’d given it a good, long seven years of her life, had lost almost everything she’d ever held near and dear, and that was enough. Still, old habits died hard, and besides, she liked working out.
She looked over at William and sighed, giving up the idea of leaving the house even for a short while. Instead, she decided that she’d do some paper work, pay some bills, and go online while he slept. It gave her a reason to stay close by, without seeming like she was just hovering, which of course, she was.
Looking at her watch, she noticed it was 10:00am, hmm, that made it evening in England, maybe she’d be able to catch Willow online, she thought.
Logging on, she checked her email. There was a letter to all the teachers about a couple of meetings scheduled within the next couple of weeks. Well, she could chuck those.
Next there was a letter from Mrs. Carpello, asking if her and William could both meet with her before the second meeting, as she would be out of town for the first. She urged Elizabeth to go to the first meeting, despite her reservations.
That was all the letter said.
“Couldn’t have been a bit more forthcoming, could you?” she grumbled to herself.
Well, she’d decide later if she’d make that first meeting or not.
There was an email from Andrew from a few days back. It read:
July 20, 2008
9:00pm
Dear Buffy,
I’ve been waiting to hear from you, but since I didn’t, I talked to Dawn a couple of days ago and she told me that you had found Spike and now had him home with you.
I’m so happy for you! You must be thrilled to have him back!
I’d love to come see you guys sometime or meet up with you somewhere (no frisking this time, okay?) but I know you’re probably busy right now.
Don’t’ worry about my saying anything about Spike to anyone. Just wanted to say that.
That’s about it, give my best to Spike.
Andrew
She sighed, she knew that she should have written to Andrew or called him to thank him for all his help, but she’d put it off, because she was still afraid that she couldn’t trust him completely.
She decided to go ahead and respond.
July 24, 2008
11:32am
Hey Andrew!
Good to hear from you. Sorry I didn’t contact you earlier. I’m sorry that you had to hear it from Dawn instead of me.
I suppose you know that ‘he’ doesn’t have any memory of anything that has transpired in his life, except for when he was a young man, before…
But despite this shock to his whole being, he’s doing quite well.
Sorry to be so cryptic, but I guess you know how I feel about certain things.
I think, sometime in the future, he might want to pick your brain on certain technical or computer-y type things that you could certainly explain much better than me. Not to mention I don’t even understand them, I just know how to use them, but he wants to know how things work. Must be a guy thing. LOL
Hopefully, we’ll be able to meet up sometime in the next few months, perhaps.
Take care,
Buffy
P.S. I’d appreciate it if you would erase your email to me so that a certain person’s name wouldn’t be on there. Sorry about the paranoia…but I’ve seen the lengths a certain person will go to hurt him and I just don’t want any reason (any more reason!) to worry.
P.S.S. You can always call Dawn to get a message to me. The phones I bought for us expired, I think.
P.S.S.S. Delete this email, too. Okay?
The next email was from Dawn. She told her about the call from Andrew, about her enrolling in classes for the new semester, and about her finally getting to spend some quality time with Dr. John and how well that was going.
Dawn wanted to know if Buffy had planned anything for William’s birthday, and if she had any ideas on what she might buy him. She said to tell him she said hello.
Buffy emailed her back, letting her know she still wasn’t sure what she was going to do for his birthday, but that Dawn would definitely be included, no matter their plans, and that she’d think about what she should get him. She also gave Dawn William’s email address and told her that she should call him soon, that he would probably really appreciate talking to her.
She told Dawn about the car and William learning to drive, but didn’t go into what had been happening since the day before.
Next, she looked for Willow online, but not finding her there, decided she’d pay some of her bills. Luckily, she could do them all online, though she didn’t think it took any less time than good old fashioned check and stamp methods used to, probably more, in fact.
She wrote to Willow, asking her to please I.M. her, as soon as she got her email.
She killed some time surfing the web, just letting one link lead her to another; anything to distract her from the increasing anxiety she was feeling over this latest thing with William.
Finally, she perused some food sites, finally finding a recipe for soup that she could make, since she had most of the ingredients. She hand copied it, so the noise from the printer wouldn’t wake up William, then went to the kitchen to get it started.
It took her the better part of an hour, all the while checking on him to see that he was still asleep, still alright, to put it all together; peel all the vegetables, potatoes, add all the ingredients, etc.
Once she had it cooking and was able to turn down the heat, she made herself a quick sandwich for lunch. Just as she sat down and was about to take a bite, she heard the chime of the Instant Message of her computer.
“Crap!” she said, hurrying to turn off the sound before it awoke William, but he seemed l tol totally unaware of the world around him, as he snored on, as before.
MRW: Hi Buffy!
MRW: Buffy, you there?
Buffy I.M.’d back, using her new code with Willow, RS03, which stood for, ‘Retired Slayer 2003’ while Willow’s new one, MRW, stood for, ‘Mostly Reformed Witch.’
RS03: I’m here, hey Willow
MRW: Hey Buffy, did you get all the papers?
RS03: yeah, I got them the next day
MRW: good…so what’s new?
Buffy briefly told her of the car, the driving lessons, and of Edna, then she told her of last night.
MRW: did he tell you exactly what he’d dreamed?
RS03: no, I don’t think he could talk about it, don’t think he wanted to put it into words, but I got the idea it must have been pretty horrible
MRW: horrible, like at the Grand Canyon horrible?
RS03: likely, in a different way. I’m just grateful he didn’t go into that sort of catatonia he did back there
MRW: maybe you should just tell him about everything Buffy
RS03: I don’t know
MRW: well, it’s obvious that somewhere inside that head of his, he’s channeling Spike’s memories or something, but he only is getting the worse of it, if not some new, horrible made up versions, like where he hurts you…well besides all the plotting to kill you, I guess he did that time…you know, when I was sort of bad myself
RS03: no, I don’t think that’s the kind of dream he had, not that kind of hurt, besides, we resolved all that between us ages ago. I wish everyone would just forget it already, I have!
MRW: consider it forgotten by yours truly, but what if he doesn’t know it’s all resolved, as you put it?
RS03: you think that’s what he dreamed?
MRW: who knows? Could be any variation of truth, wishes, desires, dreams, past, present, etc., etc.
RS03: that narrows it down plenty
RS03: not!
MRW: sorry, guess that’s not much help, huh?
RS03: not really
MRW: I still think you should tell him, give him a chance to come to grips with the truth, rather than with bits of truth, blended in with a lot of nightmares
RS03: don’t you think I’ve considered that? I think about it all the time. When will I do it? When is the best time? Will he just remember? What ifs on top of what ifs!
MRW: I know
RS03: but I can’t come up with any answers, I don’t have any and yet I’m the one he’s depending on for them; at least he should be able to depend on me for them
MRW: I know…and however, whenever YOU decide to tell him, he’ll have you to help him cope
RS03: and to hate for having lied to him
MRW: you’re not lying out of malice Buffy, you’re lying to protect him
RS03: think he’ll recognize the difference when his whole world crashes in?
MRW: maybe not at first, because anybody in his position, is going to have a lot to deal with…and so do you for that matter…but I think eventually he’ll come to grips with it
RS03: not like I could’ve just walked into the hospital room and told him all about himself now was it?
MRW: of course not
RS03: and so many other instances where he’s been so fragile from just a glimpse of something past or some other ‘William’ insecurity…it breaks my heart Willow! How can I add a freakin’ ton of misery onto that? Tell me, please!?!
MRW: I don’t know Buffy, I’ve no magic for it, no right answer. Only, I wouldn’t let it go too long. Maybe if he knows, then he’ll become stronger, be able to go on and have that normal life with you
RS03: yeah, I can see the headlines, “Former Slayer and Former Vampire Now Living a Normal Life in California Hideaway,” read the w sto story in next week’s Enquirer, available at your newsstand!
MRW: kinda catchy, maybe you should write a book instead
RS03: Oh that I could! If not, always have Andrew ghost write it for me, right?
MRW: he-he…Well, don’t know if I was any help to you
RS03: always helps to talk, makes me think outside of myself…so yeah, think it did…you always do
MRW: thanks
They talked a while longer about Willow’s work and school and about Kennedy and her classes. Kennedy was thinking of taking off a semester to get a bit more involved with the slaying and Willow wasn’t too happy about that. She told Buffy that she’d been evasive about her trip back to the states, as far as Giles was concerned. Telling her that he seemed to accept not exactly being in the loop.
Buffy thought that if Giles wanted to be in the ‘loop’ then surely, he’d find a way to do so. She hoped Willow was right; she didn’t want him knowing about William.
By the time she’d finished talking with Willow it was almost 2:30pm. She went to the kitchen and found her uneaten sandwich still on the table.
“Probably spoiled by now, huh?” she asked it.
It didn’t answer, but she tossed it away anyway and settled on a lowfat yogurt and some non-lowfat potato chips.
She stirred the soup, turning it down to low, sint wat was quick evaporating. She added another cup of water.
“So much for my cooking abilities; I suck!”
Buffy felt restless, having to sit around the house all day while being quiet. It looked like a lovely day outdoors and she was... She clamped her hand to her mouth, as if it were the same as having clamped it to the inside of her brain, which had suddenly come up with the word, ‘trapped.’
“God, not only do I suck at cooking, I obviously suck at compassion as well,” she said to herself, “how can I be thinking this?”
Buffy’s brain tried to rationalize it for her; “It’s not real, just an errant thought, just like William’s dream wasn’t real.”
“Yeah, but at least he was asleep, I’m standing here in the kitchen arguing with myself and having, ‘my, but aren’t we the selfish bitch?’ thoughts.”
“Hey, what do you want from me? I’m only you.”
“Stupid brain!”
“Whatever.”
“Shut-up already!”
Buffy looked in the cupboards for anything sweet she could make. She found a box of ‘Easy Rice Pudding.’
“Sounds all British-y,” she mused, reading the directions.
Half an hour later, she was wiping the hair out of her face as she fought to get the pudding the right consistency, before leaving it on low to simmer a while.
“Easy my ass! Should’ve just made some instant vanilla pudding, mixed in some white rice, thrown some cinnamon and nutmeg on it and let that be, but noooo! Of course not, I’ve got to try to get all kiss-the-cook-like, all domestic-goddess- like. Yep, that’s me, all domestic, all normal, all so full of crap and good intentions.”
Finally, it seemed as if it was coming together, more or less, so she turned the heat down, set the timer for an hour, and decided to go read something.
Buffy sat down across from William, and picked up a book she’d started to read last June. Determinedly, she turned to the page with her bookmark and tried to pick up the story, but she found herself either looking at William, or thinking about him, not the book.
Next she tried a magazine, which she figured wouldn’t use up too many brain cells when she tried to concentrate.
“Something dentist office-y,” she thought, picking up an old People Magazine. But still, her brain wouldn’t still enough for her to enjoy even this stupidest of vicarious pleasures, reading about the lives of the stars and other famous people.
The whole time she’d been sitting there, she knew that what she really wanted was to go and curl up next to William. But sidn’idn’t want to disturb him. What’s more, not since the first night, or rather first early morning when they’d arrived in Michigan did she have more doubts about his wanting her presence next to him.
Despite her misgivings, or perhaps even to prove her feelings wrong, she could no longer deny herself the physical closeness that she so suddenly, desperately craved; she rose and walked over to the couch.
It hadn’t just been that William had been napping the day away that had gotten to her. It was that she’d felt alone. Not like she’d felt when living here by herself, which she’d adapted to, but much worse, alone and together, at the same time.
He lay facing outward. Quietly, she lay down next to him, facing him. She resisted the urge to put her arm around him and draw in closer; instead she just tentatively rested her hand lightly on his chest, her head near, but not quite touching. She hadn’t even pulled the throw over herself, instead, just lay on the edge of it. Telling herself she would get up as soon as the timer for the rice pudding rang, she closed her eyes and was soon asleep.
William opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself on the couch. Looking next to him, he was almost as surprised to find Elizabeth next to him, barely there, yet near. He pulled the edge of the throw out from under her and put it around her, and pulled her in closer. She responded in her sleep, by putting hers around him and burrowing her head in his chest, entwining her legs with his.
His mind was foggy, as he searched his memory of when he’d fallen asleep here; by the look of the light, it was getting on towards evening. Thinking back, he remembered bits and pieces of the day before, of breakfast, and not much else.
The smell of her hair and the warmth of her body were distracting him. He kissed the top of her head and ran his hand along her back, to her hip. She moaned softly in her sleep and pulled his face down to hers.
Their lips met, and she moaned again, as he pressed his body into hers. He pulled her on top of him, as his hands went underneath her shirt, while she found his neck was a lovely place for her lips to kiss, as were his earlobes…
And then it came back to him; a feeling more than a memory, but it made him grab his head and stop moving in tandem with Elizabeth suddenly.
Buffy felt his abrupt stop in what had been a lovely couple of minutes. She brought her face up off his neck, “What is it?” she asked.
He looked at her, a confused, pained look in his eye.
“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”
They jumped at the harsh noise being emitted in pulses, “What the…?” he asked, alarmed.
“Crap! It’s the smoke detector. Crap, crap, crap,” she said, jumping off him and running out to the kitchen.
The room was filled with smoke. She ran to the stove and saw the cause of it. Her rice pudding had burned down to the very bottom of the pan, and now the pan was scorching from the heat.
“Be careful!” William said, right behind her, grabbing her just as she was about to put her hand on the pan’s handle.
“You’re right,” she said, getting an oven mitt.
“Let me,” he said, taking it from her.
“Okay.”
She turned off the stove, noting it had been past medium, rather than the low, which she’d thought she’d turned it to. Must have been the opposite side of the button with the marks on it.
“Open the door,” William said, grabbing the pan’s handle with both hands, though she’d only given him one oven mitt.
She opened the porch door; then the outside door and he went out into the yard. She showed him where the water hose was attached to the tank, and he turned it on, dousing the super heated pan. He took the glove off, running his hands under the water.
“Did you burn yourself? Let me see!”
“No, I’m alright, just… guess I should've just used one hand, huh?"
She looked at the palm of his right hand, it was red.
“I’m sorry,” she said, kissing the inside, as the cold water dripped down the front of her shirt off his hand.
“Ow, guess I did get burned a bit when I tried to steady the handle. Thought the mitt was covering it when I put this hand over the other one. Don’t think it’s too serious though.”
“I'm so sorry William."
“Don't be, I’m fine. Really! Let’s go back in, nothing you can do about that pan, I think,” he said looking down at the black-burnt inside of the pan.
“Probably not. I’m still sorry though.”
“Why are you sorry?”
“Lets see, first off, I ruined the pan, because I can’t cook for crap, and secondly, because of that, your hand is burned.”
“There are worse things,” he said, smiling crookedly at her.
She nodded, “Yeah, guess so," she said as they walked back inside.
After disabling the still buzzing smoke detector, she checked the soup, which now had about a half inch of actual soup, piled high with a lot of vegetables.
“I really do suck at this,” she said.
“Smells good,” he offered, “I’m sure it’ll taste fine, too.”
“Confidence, I remember confidence,” she said, dishing out a bowl.
He fidgeted a bit with the spoon she’d offered him.
“Hand still hurting?”
“A bit,” he admitted.
“Hold on.”
She came back in a few minutes with a cool, small towel, “Here, you can wrap this around your hand, it'll probably make it feel better and you can still hold onto your spoon with your left,” she said.
"I probably should anyway, seeing as I'm left-handed. It's just when I was raised, I was always reminded to eat with my right, despite being a bit different," he said, a small laugh.
Buffy smiled. Yep, that was him alright, just a bit different. She rolled her eyes at him.
The mood had lightened from earlier in the day over as they ate their dinner, laughed at her misguided attempts at ‘Easy Rice Pudding,’ and retired to the living room for the evening.
William tried to read, but his hand kept bothering him.
“Bugger!” he exclaimed, then apologized for the language.
Buffy had given up trying to tell him he didn’t always have to worry if he let a not-so-nice word slip here and there. Instead, she'd come to rather like the way he cared about how he sounded to her, or if she would be offended. Not that she was.
She brought him a small pan of cool water, with a few ice cubes, so they could refresh the towels on his hand.
They were watching some nature program on whales when he started to fidget with his hand again.
“Here, let me,” she said, kneeling down in front of him, as she tried to take his hand in hers to remove the towel.
“You don’t have to do that, I’m perfectly…”
“…Capable of doing it myself, blah, blah, blah…heard it already,” she said, looking up at him, “and I know you are, William. I want do this for you, okay?”
He leaned back with a sigh and let her do it. As she looked at his palm, she could only see the faintest traces of pink, which could have been just from the cooled water. However, as the evening wore on, he seemed to be having more, rather than less discomfort, so she reapplied the towel.
She went to the kitchen and got him a couple of aspirin, hoping it would take some of the pain away. Then she went into the bathroom and looked through her first aid kit. Finally, she came across a mixture of Aloe Vera and Solarcaine, which she though he might be able to use on his palm overnight to take the burn out.
When they get ready for bed, Buffy applies the ointment to his hands.
“Feel good?” she asks, as he lies back, trying to keep his hand off of the blankets.
“Yes, but it’ll get on everything.”
“Not for a while, and it’ll still have time to help your skin, right?”
“Guess so.”
“Wait a minute, I’ve got an idea,” she says, going to the closet.
“A glove?” he asks, dismayed.
“Well, sure. The stuff will rub off a bit inside, but it’ll still be all medicine-y inside, so it might help.”
William allows her to put the glove on him, wincing as they slid over his hand.
“How’s that?”
He nodded, surprised by the difference he felt, “Actually, rather feels good. Don’t exactly know why…”
Buffy smiled at him, triumphantly, “Good. That’s a good thing, doesn’t matter why.”
“Thanks, Elizabeth,” he said, looking at her seriously, “not just for this," he said waving his gloved fingers at her, "but for everything you’ve done, everything ever since…”
“Shhh,” she answered, silencing him with a kiss. It had been such a strange day, she didn’t even want to think what he meant, what kinds of thoughts were roiling about in that head of his. “We’re together William. In it together, no matter what, okay?”
“Together,” he whispered back, pulling her down on his chest, as his gloved hand stroked her back.
Reluctantly, she rose to turn off the lights, then settled back into bed, snuggling up to him.
She turned her face to kiss him. He hesitated.
“It’s alright,” she murmured, “I don’t want anything, but I can make you happy,” she said, as she stroked the lower part of his stomach. She could feel the heat beneath her hand, feel part of him rise up to meet her, at the same time, she could feel him shake his head. His gloved hand came down over hers.
“No, don’t, it’s just…tired…okay?”
She stopped, “Okay,” she said, settling herself back next to him, trying not to feel rejected. Only partly succeeding.
He turned over, so she wouldn’t be able to see his face, his eyes, wouldn’t be able to feel how much he wanted her, wanted to have her please him.
He reached behind him, to pull her arm around him, and gives her hand a kiss, before settling it on his chest; “G'night, Elizabeth, I love you.”
"I love you too, William," she says, spooning up against his back. But the words don't warm her like they should and once more, she feels alone, rather than together.
END CHAPTER 99
*The story of how Clem was formerly human, how he had gone to a famous cooking school in France, and also how he had been saved by Spike, can be found in Ch. 21 of ONE NORMAL DAY.