William Ashley-Pitt

Like many of his confederates, like many men living in society he had learned or rather schooled himself on how best to observe the female of the species swimming next to him in the sea of life all while remaining quite unobserved.

It was all about the length of time and the length of your arm. One arms length, one arms length away and all was well. One arms length, one good look and look away. To be sure, to be sure, one good look was important, because when one looked away, downcast eyes or sideways glance, one could hold the image of said maiden in ones eye and breathe her in all unobserved.

And being here, sitting here, at her table and practicing this skill was a test and a trial. Looking at her–and then forcing himself to look away and then the sideways focus on her scent was heady elixir indeed.

He was aware that he wasn’t contributing much by way of conversation and that irked him somewhat because his mind was his greatest faculty and intuitively he knew that this is what drew Mrs. Summers to him, what had piqued her curiosity. But for the life of him he couldn’t look at her, smell her and think straight.

It all became: ‘ah!’ and: ’hmm, yes, indeed..’ and god help the ramshackle, overused and certainly dusty: ‘quite.’

It was Miss Willow who threw him a life line.

He felt her light gentle touch on his sleeve and so he turned to look into her clear brown eyes but she said nothing, merely looked at him quietly with a soft smile in her eyes until he calmed…well, somewhat…

He lowered his head slightly to look at her better and her soft smile broke into a large one and he had to ask:

“Ah, yes…Miss Rosenberg?”

“Ms. Ms. Rosenberg…” she corrected with a slight bob of her head.

William’s eyebrows raised slightly as he reflected on the linguistic source of the moniker and Willow laughed slightly and then patted his arm twice and resumed the business of supping her soup.

“Forgive me, I’m afraid, I’m not familiar with the use of ‘Ms’--it is American no doubt, but…but er…does it indicate Ms as a derivative of ‘Missus’ or the English custom of ‘Miss’ to indicate…er…an unmarried woman. It is not quite clear.”

“Exactly.” Willow supplied in the proud exclamation of a teacher applauding her pupil’s most excellent sums on his slate.

Five plus two does equal seven: Jolly Good!

William looked around the table…were, were they laughing at him?

He put on a bit of the haughty to say stiffly: “Well that’s hardly helpful…”

And when Buffy laughed and Sir Rupert Giles and Ms. Rosenberg joined her, (well, Ms. Willow laughed, Sir Giles smiled) all the while looking at him as if he had just said something amazing when he hadn’t, was a bit disconcerting.

True, he spoke his mind, but what of it? He thought these people might be different.

Watching his expression close off slightly, Buffy supplied quickly.

“No, no, it’s just so nice to hear someone say what they are thinking…all this tut, tut, what, what English society stuff wears me out. ‘Go to you are a saucy boy!’”

Shakespeare?

But it was Giles who asked.

“Buffy, you are aware that you quoting Shakespeare, are you not?”

“I am not.” She pouted.

“You are you know…” William offered quietly.

Buffy grew thoughtful as she looked at William. “Well…if Mr. Ashley-Pitt says I am…then it must be true…”

Giles coughed and pushed his glasses up on his nose and rolled his eyes heavenward as he muttered:

“Yes, well, why am I not surprised…don’t believe me, oh no…but if Spi…er if Ashley-Pitt claims it to be so then let’s all bloody well jump onboard, lest we miss the boat to Paris…”

The absurd non sequitur brought an immediate laugh from the two women, but William was shocked at the open use of such a devastating swear in the presence of ladies, and so he took a moment to compose himself as he sipped his white wine and consider this odd group.

He noted the easy way they regarded each other, the soft eye combined with the hard edge of dark humor and ah of course-it was way twixt old friends. People long in association had many themes in common, a shared history and they weren’t goading him with obscenities or laughing at him–more, with him…in an obscure sort of way.

“Well, he is company after all” Buffy mused. “We can indulge him…”

“It is Shakespeare, Mrs. Summers…” William offered as way of contributing to the conversation.

“Well maybe so, but it’s also a television commercial, you know that one where the guy slaps on the cologne and boing, instant juice--”

Willow coughed into her napkin cutting her off and then glanced at William who looked a little boggled from trying following the ’American expressions.’

“I think I can follow the gist…except tele…what was it? Tele from transport…vision well that’s to see…transporting vision?”

“A form of American advertisement…” Giles offered mildly.

“Oh it’s more, it’s soooo much more..” Buffy said as she leaned conspiratorially toward William.

“That will do for now, Buffy…” Giles murmured as he sipped his wine

(Buffy–that’s her name, that’s her named with affection)

“Anyway, if millions of people think ‘go to, you are a saucy boy’ is a cologne and call to romantic action and not Shakespeare then that’s what it becomes–it’s the power of overwhelming numbers, Mr. Ashley-Pitt and your guy’s outnumbered--democracy in action.”

“Well, that’s just…sad…” William observed sagely and Mrs. Summers (Buffy) laughed.

He continued, “First of all, it seems to me that the phrase is being used out of context. Lord Capulet is restraining a zealous Tybalt and ’go to’ is something akin to ‘stop, halt, slow down now, it should sound something like this: ‘go to; you are a saucy boy!’ See?”

Pause.

“Well that’s what the Bard gets for not finishing a sentence.”

William looked at her and then laughed. It was a warm full sound and it trembled inside Buffy like a tuning fork warming her heart back to joy.

(Ah, this is what it’s like to be happy, remember? And he doesn’t even know…he had this gift in laughter back then, and I bet he never knew.)

She took a breath to compose herself and then went on.

“If he wanted to stop Tybalt, send him somewhere, he should have written something like ’go to…the post office; you are a saucy boy. Go to…”

“Get the main course…” mused Sir Giles

“I’ll go…” Willow offered, it’s just on the sideboard where a certain man could just reach around to help himself. But no, the woman has to get up and go alllll the way around…”

But she did this with a warm smile that belied her grudging tone and so William smiled, nodded and then: Ah! The penny dropped.

“Suffragette!” he exclaimed softly. “Yes of course, of course I see it now…Ms. is the equivalent of Mr.; that is, neither married or unmarried, an unnamed middle ground, so to speak…”

“Equality…” Willow supplied as she placed the platter of fish on the table and sat beside it. “How stand you on the movement Mr. Ashley-Pitt?”

“Equality?”

“Yes, Mr. Ashley-Pitt, are men the equal of women?” Buffy asked him directly but there was a twinkle in her eye that mollified him somewhat whatever his answer might be.

William looked to Sir Giles who simply raised his brows and hummed something that sounded like ‘London Bridges falling down…’

“Cheerful...” William poked this quick at Giles who almost, almost laughed and then turning to address the expectant faces of the ladies, he took a deep breath and said.

“Man will never be the equal to woman…”

Silence.

“How can it be otherwise? Women give birth, life springs from her in a way all of man’s inventions and enterprises mimic or parody depending on the generosity of the spirit making the appraisal. Man will always be left wanting, needing to be needed knowing their contribution to life is…uh momentary…no, man will never be the equal of woman, but…as the evenings sparkling conversation suggests…we can share the space with equanimity and count on lively debate for a meeting of the minds. And if minds can meet, then why not the vote?”

Quiet for a moment and then Willow said softly.

“I think I’m going cry.”

“I’m not sure if that’s the best speech I ever heard or we’ve just been completely snowed.” Buffy said softly.

“Snowed?” William asked

“Covered with the fine white bluster, baby…”

He still wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but loved the way she talked, so direct, and saucy and her accent…

“Teachers Pet…” Muttered Giles

“Jealous.” sniped William

And so fast and natural was the banter between the men Buffy and Willow stared at them.

Unsure of the reason for the intensity of the their gaze William ventured a conversational segue back to his favorite topic.

“No, men shall never be the equal of women, but who can say what time will do? This time we are in now, these transitions into industry, into these strange new inventions and if we don’t pay attention to the times, make the decisions necessary based on an enlightened frame of mind…then how might posterity view us? All our chances become missed opportunities...and I know, I feel, the possibility of some small window into an equanimity of mutual hearts between the sexes and so share the common destination of a beautified world. Yes, men and women can be equal, but a whole old world will need to expire first, my world, I suspect, I feel my world must tremble, quake and perish completely and even knowing that, I feel it is... fated...somehow and being fated, it is...secure? That word seems to come closest to my meaning.”

They were quiet for a moment as they all looked to him and he looked inside himself found the space and recited softly:

“...for my mind misgives

Some consequence yet hanging in the stars

Shall bitterly begin this fearful date

With this nights revels and expire the term

Of a despised life closed in my breast

By some vile forfeit of untimely death.

But He, that hath the steerage of my course.

Direct my sail! On lusty gentlemen.”

“Strike drum.” Giles said softly in Benvolios reply to Romeo’s intuitive leap.

William looked at Giles and said again:

“I am fortunes fool.”

The room was quiet for a moment as they took the words to heart and mind and then Mrs. Summers, her voice softly serious, asked him:

“Are you?”

William chuckled and shook his head, “Hardly, Mrs. Summers…I scarcely think Lady Fortuanata would give me a second thought or a second of her consideration…”

“Surely not…” this was from Sir Giles, “Surely you believe everyone has a fate and therefore by default everyone is--”

“--A mite as mighty as a mountain?” William chuckled again. “No, I think not…”

“Explain.” Willow said simply.

William looked around the room at their still serious faces, considered for a moment and then thought: all right, why not?

“I don’t know this to be true, mind you, it is my speculation based on…” and here he substituted the word ’dreams’ for: “…intuitive reasoning, which we shall all agree outright to be quite subjective…”

“Subjective reasoning is only a microcosm of the macrocosm; one point of view, by virtue of it’s own existence represents many...” Giles offered

“Yes…yes exactly…where there is one, there is two and more and so I nod to that and recognize that here I am speaking for the unnamed millions like myself and so that only emphasizes my point which is this: we are the crowd the protagonist passes through, we, we are sometimes even smaller, we are the...cats and a…a cat, for example, cannot one day become Mayor of Oddsend, can it then?”

“So it’s fate, the cat’s fate to be a cat, and it’s fixed…but that doesn’t mean it’s overlooked by Fortune” Buffy was speaking earnestly and everyone looked at her as her voice rose slightly, “that doesn’t mean it’s not important...lot’s of people love cats.”

“No, no, I mean yes, of course the cat is important, and it has it’s cat duties to perform, but it is small and cannot effect the workings of the world…it is small and may not be important to the...larger reality...but if this is true, it has something invaluable as well.”

Silence as they looked at William--they were listening, people were actually listening to him.

He took a moment for the drama of it and then said simply:

“Freedom.”

Quiet as they all considered this and then William leaned forward and continued softly.

“Freedom is the compensation. Lets say, for the sake of discussion, that there are certain people, certain personalities so powerful, and constructed in such a way their place in the world could only be permitted or ordained by providence. All one need do is study history…how could one person one personality hold an army together? All one soldier need do was simply say, no, no, this is bad idea it will never work and besides which, I don’t respect my commander. But as it so often happens, especially when royalty is not involved, the army is held together by the power exuded from one individual…”

“Or an idea…” Buffy supplied quickly

“Or an idea, but again consider your own American Revolution, the idea needs process, needs a center point and here you had not just one in Washington but several second in command, lest he fall or fail, but still there was a persona and if this singular personality is not provided by providence, well, the whole of the enterprise is in jeopardy. An idea needs to be personalized–it needs to be alive in flesh for it to feel real...for it to feel possible.”

Giles got up and went to the sideboard for the carafe of wine and refilled the glasses as he observed.

“What of King or Queen? History is replete with doddards and incompetent blue blood…”

“Ah…but see? That’s why the crown borrows the notion of benediction from heaven--to hold power over time, to allow for continued reign when the weak personality becomes King. Such a King is actually a cat, a small thing appearing large, no, we are talking about people, certain people as strategic pins to hold the fabric in place. What I am suggesting is this…imagine Providence as the great writer, and this world a magnificent play, or better still an epic poem and the idea is there, it has a beginning, a middle and an end, and there are certain plot elements fixed in the piece, certain dialogue scripted, certain parts cast and to ensure an entertaining evening the great director will cast his--”

“--or hers--” popped in Willow

William looked at her briefly, smiled and then picked up the thread of his logic again…

“Or hers…as a nod to the great goddess’s of times past, she will cast her best actors, to ensure the finest production and which one of us wouldn’t do the same? But for the townspeople, for the secondary parts…”

Here William shrugged.

“She casts the cats?” Willow asked

“She casts the cats of this world…noted, the Egyptian Goddess had a dear love for her cats and they are well regarded in creation…but they are cats…and as such, may come and go unobserved and as they please but they are cats and so in exchange for being small in the world, minor in the story, in exchange for that--they are free. They are the ones in full possession of free will. All one need do is look around the world for confirmation…there are some…people…”

And here William’s eye drifted involuntarily to Mrs. Summers.

“Who stand in the world as fixed points, a slave to their part in the story; the axis around which the rest of us rotate, there are those gleaming and glowing and beyond one’s touch…”

She was looking at him, into him, tenderly into him touching him and suddenly he felt the danger of his words becoming a lie and he let his voice drift down to soft quiet.

“There is just one thing wrong with your argument.” She said into him and he waited.

He lowered his head to look at her as he listened, her breath hitched and then she said this.

“If the cats are free and I think that’s true…then one cat might be free enough to get it into his head one day to walk to the center of the stage, take over the plot and start singing.”

Pause and then:

They all laughed, they laughed and it felt so good to be with mutual minds…they laughed and William laughed too, all the while her face, her body her scent floated around him, enveloping him.

“You best me…Buff…Mrs. Summers, I lay it on thick and think and you best me with one blow.”

“I was inspired by the cat’s ode deluxe…”

William was dazzled and bested and he loved it, he loved it, he continued

“Well…yes, yes…that would be a show stopper…’ he finally managed

And they laughed again and as Ms. Rosenberg was clearing his barely touched bowl of soup away and placing a china plate with little pink flowers embracing a grilled Halibut and so he didn’t notice the past tense or tears in her eyes as Mrs. Summers murmured.

“Yes, yes it was…”

*

Chapter 4 Will March Forth in there 2010

Verse 1:

“Harbingers bingeing, bringing comeuppance

  And the tollgate, the toll, the price of admittance…”

William Ashley-Pitt

Buffy had been feeling funny all day. A little 'ha' ha' funny, a little giddy funny and plain out right: ‘funny‘, funny.

All together, it was an odd kind of funny. She was feeling a little lightheaded in the heart and body and if she had to put a name to it, if she was absolutely forced to call it by name, perhaps, perhaps she might choose ’happy.’

And after such a long time of heavy, hard sharp feelings--happy was good.

Of course, the lion share had to do with seeing Jack tonight, and sharing him with Giles, Xander, Millie and maybe Willow might join them later that would be so fine to see her again. It would be the first time they had been back together since...then...

So that explained some of it, but it felt like portents too. Like the feeling you get on Christmas Eve; all bubbly and expectation or that line from that song: 'the air is humming...cuz something good...is coming...come on deliver...to mmmeeeeeee....'

And then she was singing a snatch of that tune out loud in the hotel room and then she was singing a little bit more out loud in the taxi cab and now she was humming a teeny bit of it in the restaurant lobby and so between all stops she managed to get the whole song in or rather out and...and it felt good. And it had been a long time since she had felt good, Jack had been so patient with her and maybe tonight--we can...hhhhmm...'

So that explained part of it. most of it, party celebration and reunited but it didn't explain how the colors...how the colors of the world seemed brighter to her. Elucidated somehow--like the world was enhancing itself for her personally and how very, very kind, how charitable, how...civilized; she thought.

How sweet...how sweet the world is....

Oh, yeah, she was getting fruity.

Fruity and tuity and maybe, maybe if she still kept feeling this way she and Jack could move back into a rhythm with each other. He was getting antsy, she knew that and didn't care overmuch. It was her body and her right to do what she wanted and she could create cosmos with it or break them too so powerful was sex and he respected her, he did, he said he did so what was it then?

What was it? Was there so much pain between them that she couldn’t trust him again?

Why couldn't men stick around for the story to develop and as always when her thoughts went along this route she ran up against the wall of: well, some men are loyal. Some men love for loves sake and then she had to...stop. Just stop thinking.

She wasn’t being fair or honest. The thing with Jack was complex and to be fair–her argument with him had become twisted up with her ongoing debate with life and love itself.

It was time to unwind the mind and play. Too tight, too tight and let it all go for a while and she would, she will.

And so she had chosen her dress with care. New York was all about black--everybody wore black; but it was blue she was feeling, but in a good way. In a filmy, navy blue, with small sparkles and yeah, she looked great in it.

It swooped down her back and held her bosom like loving lover hands and, hey--comfortable too.

She sang:

"Could it be? Yeah it could, something’s coming something good...still I can wait...."

*

She was having a wonderful time.

Jack was beautiful tonight, well, he always was, but seeing how bright and positive she was, he had relaxed and matched his mood gratefully to hers. This was going to be a memorable evening.

They were sitting by side and his arm was draped along the back of her chair, occasionally dipping in to touch and glide against her skin...and that was pleasant...the subtext was there too...but he managed to keep it light. Not too much push...not too much. Or maybe the push was in her own mind.

And so the soft touch of his fingers brought forward the warm feelings of affection for him and when he touched her shoulders, just the very tops of her shoulders, that started, just started the kettle, the cauldron of her female heat and when his hands dipped a little lower...things got a little hotter--so things bode well all round for a new beginning with him and with the world at large and small.

Xander was laughing at something Jack said, his head thrown back and his eyes dancing with joy. Well he was in a good mood wonder how long that will last with his new girl friend...this red headed thingawhatever she was.

Buffy's laughter dipped a bit at the thought and she gave herself a gentle mental slap...of 'not now, not now' and she took a deep breath and let it go slowly. She leaned forward and took a small sip of the sparkling white wine and let it fall like the notorious fire water it was down her gullet, lighting Buffy tissue up along the way.

Ah scrubbing bubbles.

Jack thought she drank too much, but he wasn't her and it's not like she was on Prozac or something, and sometimes a glass of wine at the right time, was the reason why.

She took another sip and caught his questioning glance out of the corner of her eye and she just smiled to him so brightly he had to smile back.

He shook his head gently and bore the brunt of her dazzling charisma and took a sip of his own wine and reached for a cheese quiche appetizer. Ooh those looked good. She took one too.

Good, very good, cheesy with just the right after crunch of crispy, she took another little sip of sparkling white wine, not champagne...that only comes from the Champaign Valley, and Champagne, true Champagne was...meant for a different kind of celebration, it was personal, private and something so specific to her she couldn't share it and so she never let him buy the Dom Perignon and if he did, she wouldn't drink it.

She made it about the money thing the excess thing and he pouted at that because as much as he rebelled against the structure of his upbringing, of coming from old money--there were rules, especially culinary rules and social etiquette that were so deep rooted in him, he always wanted the best of everything and so had a hard time ordering down.

Cheesh. To get him to eat pizza without a napkin on his lap was like trying to wrestle an incarnation of Ghengis Kahn as a dragon to the ground while wearing a form fitted dress. He looked at her then and she leaned in toward him and they kissed gently. Still...there were other compensations. Some times successful relationship was the right mix of things in common and things...not.

Angel and she had fitted together like hand in glove, it had felt like a perfect match and one straight out of book of His and Hers so well she had felt they matched…but looking back, she could see there wasn't friction, that is the right kind of friction to produce the kinetic energy, to make it powerful enough to last past obstacles...and it hadn't. He had left, when it got too tough, when the conditions became constricted or more correctly–he had made decisions for the both of them which meant he really viewed her as a child, as someone not to be respected. Well what of it? That was his choice and if she couldn’t respect his free will to not respect hers, well, then, what was she doing in the world?

She shook her head...it didn't matter anymore...she was sparring with a ghost, he was gone. Aguirre had been a good man if, more than a little crazy but he had been kind and passionate and had a keen intelligence that she missed. She had loved their long debates into the night and he treated her mind with the respect it deserved. But a comet is a comet and when it is over, it is and they had parted well.

She had stayed away from men for a while after that...settling in to the business of the new slayers in the world…until Jack They had met through work, and he was a medium, and you never, ever, from the outward look of him, would guess that as his specialty.

Not that she wanted to talk to the dead. She did not. She had known death, half death and dead people walking. She knew separation and she knew the cycle of starting over and over and dealt with it daily and so he would have been her last...well, almost last pick on earth for a companion...and yet they had...clicked. The chemistry had been right, and if it hadn't been throw down passionate...well that was a bit of a comfort too. Slow and steady and see what comes...

Death always death...

Suddenly the thoughts stopped as she hit this brick wall.

Why? Why? Why did she always run through the list of things she couldn't change?

She was nodding and smiling at Millie sitting on her left as she was outlying her next project...an original play and god the challenges and the excitement of dealing with a playwright and shining up a diamond in the rough. Helping the existing text come to life and avoiding the temptation to impose her will on it...and then Buffy glanced at Xander and Jack and Giles as they in turn rose to greet Xander's date who had just arrived--old world manners gotta love 'em and it was Margie (and she was not under the influence of a demon even if she did have long red hair of a questionable hue) that she had to keep pushing back from her face (why not bind it?) and then Giles was looking at Buffy, because he had picked up the slight shift in her mood and was asking her with his loving eyes: Are you alright? And life went on, it went on all the time, all around her and on and on...

There was a swell of laughter from a nearby table and the light tinkling sound of a child's shrieking glee...Buffy turned to look and saw a little girl, Asian she was with black hair sticking out and about her head and the attempts to feminize the melee with two pink bows...so people would know, so people would know this was their little girl and they loved her so much they saw to the small details like pink bows and pink matching socks and shoes too, buying and paying for sweet clothes that could only be temporary because she was growing so fast but what did it matter? She was their little girl and she was laughing because her parents were laughing and she was laughing because her people were laughing and she was laughing because all was right with her world and her family would keep her safe...

And if she moved now...fast...she could just make it to the restroom in time...

Buffy left the table.

*

Will saw a blue and blonde streak coming by him so fast he barely had time to bury his nose in his tea cup, but it didn't matter...she had that fixed look on her face that meant she had a purpose and the world was fading away for her and she would never see him, and so he took a chance and looked carefully at her she as strode by his table to the hall leading to the restroom.

Her face was perfect, at least the side that he saw and she was more beautiful than in Spike’s memories, if possible...her cheekbones were more pronounced now and the sweet chubb of her cheeks had melted but the change balanced her face somehow, and she had put a little weight, on...not much but enough to swell her breasts and round her hips...

His glance went to her eyes and he felt a piercing through his heart at he din he saw/felt there. Noise and calamity fairly screamed her insides out...

Oh luv, ah lass...what happened? Whatever it was, it wasn't a recent slight or a misunderstanding and her dashing off to cool down from a dinner table conversation gone wrong...no...he knew pain...and now he felt it coming out of her and his heart jabbed in his chest as his own eyes swelled...for her.

As she passed by...he saw her smooth expression, her extraordinary emotional containment begin to crumple..

Like a smooth piece of paper being slowly wadded up in ones hand, her face pulled together in wrinkles and contortions as she crumpled.

Ah luv...no, no...

She was gone now and up the hall, he listened and heard the opening of the door and maybe a crack of wood as she jerked it open, breaking the beam a little in her haste to get inside and away from the merciless clang of the world that was hurting his girl.

His girl, his Buffy was hurting and everything, the whole list of what I will and will not do faded fast when he heard the harsh crack of a stifled sob escape before the door to the woman’s restroom slipped shut.

Will fingered his napkin nervously as his eyes slipped about the room.

What to do?

He looked to her table...no, they were all still making quite merry, still in the midst of their jollification...oh god, now Red had arrived and they were greeting her and there was no doubt, no doubt they knew nothing of the distress Buffy was in. That...that meant...Buffy did not want them to know. She would not want them to know.

The waiting staff? Perhaps one of the waitress could check on her...yes, yes they would do that...but it would be impersonal and how would that help her? It might arrest her behavior, in the wake of public scrutiny she might be able to get herself under control...but how would that help her?

He put down his napkin and felt the gentle soothing he often did from the source of all love, he felt a calm hand smooth him down, a sweet invisible loving hand in his to let him know he wasn't alone. No silent whispered words of advice...no real nudge...just support and yes...yes it was up to him...what he did was always up to him.

And he so realized with the clarity of saints what was true and what was worthwhile...and life became simple. (for a while)

It was this:

If he had a choice of seeing happy smiling Buffy in whatever form that meant or wracked and bent in pain Buffy, whether it be emotional or physical...well, the answer was easy because this is what love does.

He had always known this about himself--it was the big reason, the real reason on the chain reaction of reasons that had prompted Spike to get his soul back. He couldn't bear it himself to see her in such pain. To ease his own pain, he had to ease hers...he had to try...

And wasn't life just fits and starts pushing us towards the same conclusion again and again until we got it, really, really got it? Well, he knew as a teacher that learning was about repetition.

And if it was his destiny to serve love in this way…so be it.

He would put on the posh, there was enough of an actor in him to do this right, he would put on the posh and lighten his voice and she would never know it was him or Spike...never...

He hadn't a bloody idea what he was going to say or how he was going to say it...like all of his memories of Spikes greatest battles he would rely on improvisation.

He got up and left the table.

*

"Pardon me, excuse me...please don't be alarmed...I...I was passing...and, and you...are you in pain? That is, are you in need of assistance?"

Buffy heard the gentle voice, the soft intrusion into her cacophony, she had thought she had kept it inside that very little sound had escaped from the hand clenching her mouth tight but he must have been just passing as she entered the restroom.

It was late in the evening on a weekday and there weren't many patrons in the place and so she had the restroom to her self before the soft handsome voice dipped in English accent slipped in to tap her.

And maybe it was her long association and affection for all things and people from the hard little rock thrown into a silver sea or the sweet sincerity of the question that made her pay attention.

He was speaking again, lingering on the hall side of the door, respecting the rules and barriers to all things pink and overwhelmingly female and so she felt protected by his good manners and his genuine concern as he continued with:

"I...I am not well versed in, shall we say, in a hands on way regarding the methode of emotional processing for the modern female--as woman are faced with some very real and different concerns and challenges in this world...than their counterparts in gender...”

(What was this guy saying?)

"And so I must ask, because, I must, and only you know the answer, because only you do...but, is this a standard issue emotional cleansing as performed by women and witnessed by men but never truly grasped and so I best tip toe away for the completion of said ritual in peace...or...or...is this particular? Is this a specific response to a specific stimuli? That is...are you in pain?"

Buffy's face twisted in response: (huh?) This was her hero? She could have bled to death by the time he got all that out--but he was charming too...he combined just the right note of gentle concerned inquiry with ironic brow lift that some people, most women, might have found offensive in such a situation...but not Buffy.

"It's...I'm..." she managed to get out and then he said again a little louder now, encouraged by the response, the promise of coherency to come.

"That is...should I call someone for you? Or have a member of this establishment call for medical assistance? You, having the advantage of understanding your situation best, must instruct me."

She laughed gently, she had too, he was too charming, too British, too kind to be real.

Will relaxed a bit at the sound of her laughter and he said so.

"You have a lovely laugh..."

"You have lovely manners, sticking your nose into a woman’s private sanctum like the public restroom and more than a little guts..."

"It is...difficult to navigate chivalry in modern waters, to be sure...best err on the side of: 'what would Mater have me do..."

And he said this last bit in a Cockney so broad Buffy laughed again; wasn't 'funny' sometimes just the shock of surprise? Slipping on a banana peel for instance? And couldn't she relate to that?

"Always a great litmus test." She finally said.

"Quite." he said softly and then she sobered again and didn't know why but she heard herself say:

"It’s...not. It's...it's grief...I was sitting there, fine, feeling great, I wasn't even feeling bad...I think, I think it was because I was feeling good...and I didn't see it coming...you know?"

"I do." The soft voice said kindly.

"I believe you do..." they were quiet for a moment and then she leaned forward and asked softly:

"Tell me...what's it all about?"

Pause and then:

"Life?" He asked

"And death..." She whispered back.

There was a slight pause and then he said softly:

"Life...life is a gift...well, it was a gift to me...a gift beyond me being able to ask for it, quite beyond being able to deserve it, to be...trusted with it...I know it is a gift, I know it and it can still be tiring and pain filled and exacting and still it is a gift.."

"What makes it a gift? For you?" Buffy asked softly

Sweet silence as she felt him gather his thoughts and then:

"You are on the outside of the painting or picture, see? And the gift of life, is putting your hand, of being able to put your hand into the picture. The gift of life puts you in the picture and being able to move around in it, breathe, move, affect things, touch people, to not have your nose pressed up on the glass from the outside and be wishing, always wishing...life is the gift of living--of getting up on stage to act out the exciting bits for yourself..."

"And...and death?..."

Very soft now he said:

"The same, my dear, exactly the same, but flipped over to the other side--it's a chance to get off stage isn't it? A chance to rest and just watch...and not having to be the one, always up, always on garde, always breathing..."

"Breathing can be hard..."

"But wonderful..."

"Yes...yes...it can be wonderful..." Buffy took in a ragged breath that evened hers out and then said softly:

"Thank you, thanks...you've helped me remember how it is...how it really, really is, that is. What are you? Some kind of helpful sprite friend or something?"

He laughed and she loved the sound and then he said:

"No, no...only a lowly Prof with too much time to read."

"And write too...I hope you write that down somewhere..."

"Perhaps I will...if it pleases you enough to ease you..." and then his voice dipped a bit, and when he spoke again it contained a personal appeal.

"Please don't cry, luv.."

Silence.

"What's your name?"

Silence and the door clicking softly and shutting with a 'thimp.'

He was gone.

*

Will made sure Buffy was back at her table before he returned to his and he made sure to focus on his meal and after dinner coffee and began the evaluation of a graduate students thesis proposal all, all, business as usual...instead, instead of watching her out of the corner of his eye.

Willow had arrived while Buffy had been absent and so it was the glee of happy old friends reuniting and that distraction made him feel safer and helped Buffy switch gears and so smooth transition from crisis averted seemed assured.

Good. Good.

But as her group rose and readied themselves for departure he did risk a glance (because any patron would and him looking wouldn't be unusual) and it was to see her long blonde hair flipped over the top of her light blue Spring coat and there, there her Bloke was adjusting her collar in that way of people familiar with each other and wanting the world to know it too. In the small ways. No grappling in public like teenagers in heat, just that light possessive touch that said 'mine' or 'I do this because I can.'

Will almost sighed...almost...but did not because needless to say she had never touched Spike in that way or had allowed him property access either, much as he had wanted to. No. He was never her bloke.

But..

But, he was her guardian, he was the one who loved her best in this world and...and now he had the benefit...the gift of knowing that.

And that was something, it was good and real and irreplaceable as far as heaven was concerned or else why was she here tonight at her crisis point of all places? No, there were no accidents--just how we respond when things break.

It was just after they departed through the front of the building and his waiter, his favorite waiter, French and a right ponce but sassy enough for Spike to love and William to love from afar...

And now Pierre was holding a bottle of Dom Perignon carefully out to him on a tray exposing the label in a clear...but polite way...Dom

Dom and the memory of the case of Dom that Spike had purloined and kept stashed in the crypt for Buffy that she never would drink because...it was contraband, it was stolen that is--it had to be and so he had tempted her with the bubbles making his version of the Bloody Mary with champagne instead and dubbing the drink Bloody Mizzy, and so lightheaded and funny he became and almost human (she had said) she had finally broken down and sipped a flute, minus the blood that is and up it went, right up her nose and down she felt it, down in her toes and Spike had smiled sagely and said: 'scrubbing bubbles.' And it was funny but not that funny, or maybe it was Spike with that look on his face, with his heart in his eyes and comic timing too and so she had laughed--for the first time since she had...come back...he heard her laugh...and god, it was a good sound...

Pierre was still talking, Will turned his attention to the man.

"L'Ashley-Pitt de monsieur, Complimente d'une Dame."

William looked up into Pierre's eyes and was there a gleam in them?

"Une Dame?" Will asked cautiously

"Oui...There est une carte. ..would vous aimez avoir l'a ouvert pour vous maintenant...or ferait vous aime le prendre avec vous?"

Will's eyebrows drew together and he looked at the magnum of very expensive champagne--Pierre wanted to know if he were to open it now or perhaps monsieur would prefer to take it with him? Will took the white card folded in two from the tray and read:

'I love you.'

It was Buffy's handwriting, it was Buffy's heart.

Truly. Truly.

Silence.

She didn’t, she didn’t love him, that is; William--she loved him, Spike, the other, and by god, maybe she did love Spike.

Absent mindly he pressed the note up against his chest, up close to his heart as he considered, as he began, just began...to believe it.

There was something light and incomprehensible growing in the center of himself, just a small spot being born and looking for more room to spread the news. She loved Spike and that was good, that was very good and thank god, Spike hadn’t been mad to hope for it, to believe in it, thank god...

The world seemed it little more measured now just a little more even and while it was true that she didn’t love William and that this was borrowed bread and it might go stale and choke him if he tried to feast on it--still, it was the gift she gave him. He looked at the note again.

‘I love you.’

The waiter was waiting and Will waited too until he was sure his voice was steady and then he said:

"Je le prendrai avec moi."

I'll take it with me.

Always.

*

Chapter 5 William August Second(s) count 1880

Verse 6:

“Inside, inside, inside your velvet…

Inside your velvet…cloak…”

                                      William Ashley-Pitt

*

“Buffy, you have to tell him.”

Willow’s voice was low and soft and she heard her, she did. They were in the kitchen area, doing the equivalent of a quick tidy up. The kettle was on the wood burning stove and the hot water was ready for after dinner coffee.

Buffy was spooning the rough looking grinds into the tall pewter coffee pot…man…

“On the list of things I will not miss--please add campfire cooking in the kitchen.”

“Buff…” Willow whispered.

Buffy didn’t respond, simply arranged the coffee cups on the tray to hide her trembling hands.

“You notice that he didn’t ask anything about why we are in England? How long we plan on staying? All that stuff? Buffy…”

Buffy turned to look at her dear old friend she loved so well but that she surely wished would shush.

“I heard that.” Willow said mildly.

“I thought your witchy stuff was gone….”

“Diminished, greatly diminished but growing stronger by the minute and I still have the mind to mind thing and Giles and I talked it over…”

“I didn’t hear you…”

“That’s cuz you didn’t want to hear me–you can build a wall as thick as brick and we all know nobody can make you do anything when that happens, but I am strongly suggesting that you tell him. Something. Don’t let him leave here thinking he will see us…or...you again. Please Buffy…you promised…”

Buffy wasn’t speaking because her throat was too tight.

Willow looked at her a moment and then looked away out the window of the kitchen and into the small garden, it was summer here, not the permanent winter, the almost ice age they had left behind–she felt herself begin to cry at the contrast, but held it in. She took a deep breath and let the vista of someone’s else’s garden ease her, not tease her. When she had calmed, she said:

“Giles and I are going to try to get some sleep before going out later tonight and you can have William to yourself--”

There was the sound of masculine laughter from the parlor and they both looked in tandem toward it and then back at each other.

“Buffy, we both know what’s it like to find a group…to find someplace, some people to belong to, and I’m telling you, Spike--William thinks he found that tonight--”

--”That’s because he has found it. He looked so lonely Will; I could feel it there in the library…I just wanted to give him something...he‘s not…an ordinary guy in any time and here in this world he’s like, this book fiend, so lonely he lives through all his books and stuff–he is alone…but Willow, he doesn’t like it. He wants something real, to belong to something real--that part of him will always be the same--”

“--And you gave him that, we all did, he is one of us. Look, what am I doing telling you something you already know? Whether we like it or not we are gonna bounce back in about a week. Probably less…Giles explained it all. Buffy…we, we aren’t actually here. I mean we are here, but it’s as if we all are in a bubble pushed into the bubble next to us, like pushing against plastic, when the torque in the push fades we’ll bounce back. It’s the guarantee in the physics of the thing so one world can never permanently enter another. It’s a cosmic law.”

Pause.

She didn’t say it but Willow’s thoughts ran something like this.

We all are going back.

“I know, Willow, I know...” Buffy said in response to Willows spoken and unspoken words.

She took in a breath and picked up the tray and followed Willow past the French doors and out into the parlor.

William rose hastily to his feet to relieve her of the tray and there was a brief tug of war over it until Buffy relented and let him take the burden and place in on the coffee table before the divan.

“Equal schemeekwal…” Buffy muttered and then added ’Everybody’s equal until there’s a dragon to slay.”

Giles added brightly:

“And ingesting hot caffeinated beverages in the early evening would be the rough equivalent of dragon on a doomsday to my nights rest and so I must say…it has been a pleasure, Ashley-Pitt, a pleasure indeed, but I must retire for the evening and peruse my notes for lecture in the morning…”

“And I’m gonna help him.” Willow was almost effusive in her chime and then turned to William and said; “Good night William, it was wonderful seeing you again…”

William still on his feet turned to her, quite red faced and feeling a fool.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve kept you all with my ramblings–”

“--Not at all, not at all my dear chap, it was refreshing…” Giles supplied smoothly.

“Stimulating…” Willow chimed again, it was almost musical number now and then it was Giles with:

“--Quite stimulating conversation--the like of which I may not experience for some time to come…please stay and keep our Buffy company and rest assured you will be doing Willow and myself a favor in entertaining her whilst we are out er…away.”

Giles came forward and shook his hand warmly to which William responded:

“Sir Rupert...” Gilles nodded to that and stepped back and then Willow stepped into place next and William said.

“Good night Ms. Rosenberg…”

“Please call me Willow…”

“Good night Willow…”

“Good night William…”

And though it was goodnight and though they left with warmth in their eyes and smiles on their faces, it felt for all the world like goodbye.

He watched them leave and then eyes down he spoke low to Buffy.

“I…perhaps…it’s best I depart as well…”

“Forget about it, there’s no way you wanna inflict all this coffee on me, cuz you know I would drink it all don’t you? And then what? Eyes wide open and babbling to myself until sunup, that’s what…”

“Beautiful eyes and what a boon to the night it would be to have you look out into it.”

Oh my dear god, did he just say that out loud? William, dared to look at the glowing woman sitting on the divan with an empty cup poised in one hand as she stared up at him.

Idly he noted the small pink roses on the side of the cup. Matching set to the china at table. One set of china. One set of everything and no more. He looked around the room, it was well furnished, but sparse. Nice pieces but the whole of the room lacked the look of life. The room lacked the look of life getting into the corners and filling it all to overflowing.

It looked temporary.

“Mrs. Summers--”

"--My husband passed away...many years ago now. Please call me Buffy."

He gulped.

"Oh...I'm sorry to hear that…(couldn’t quite say her name yet–)”

"I'm sorry to have it." but she smiled so genuinely at him he smiled back.

“The others…they call you–...”

“I would like you to call me Buffy…it’s who I am on the inside…”

The air in the room distilled and her face, her eyes seemed isolated in a white light while the whole of the world went dim around her. He felt dizzy…must not pass out…he pulled his gaze away from her face and down to the carpet as he got his bearings.

Soft green with gold stems and pink petals…ah yes…it was the carpet pattern…

He looked back to Buffy and she was staring fixedly at him, a dazed expression in her eyes, he noted the coffee cup resting sideways on her lap. Still empty--well that was good…

Without thinking another thought and before he lost his nerve he went to sit by her on the divan.

One arms length…but then leaned in.

Sweetness…that’s what he felt like to Buffy--sweet light air she could inhale, something good and fine that eased her battle fatigue and made her feel something like herself again.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes roaming over her face, noting her wide eyes, full lower lip like a red rose pouting and the scar that seemed more like a beauty mark than a mar.

He said softly. “You have suffered…”

She didn’t deny it, she said nothing and looked down into the empty coffee cup.

He wanted to ease her pain, to hold her to his heart until she knew how he felt, as if sheer proximity could say easily what words could not.

And then she said.

“So have you…”

He didn’t deny it. But there were all kinds of suffering in this world and he knew his didn’t show up on the same scale where hers would be weighed and…

“I love you…”

It was out…he said it--it slipped out and landed on her heart like a small bird singing.

She didn’t laugh, she didn’t say it was impossible, she simply stroked the dark blue fabric of her gown and said softly.

“We are leaving England in a week…”

Pause and then:

“No…” he whispered it.

“We must leave within a week…”

“No..” whispered again

She dared to turn and look at him.

“Do you understand? We must leave…”

Pause.

“Are…are you in trouble of some kind…please tell me…Buffy, I, I do have some money--are you without resources?”

“No, nothing like that…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before…it didn’t come up and…and now…”

She looked at his face and he looked stricken, struck and ready to fall with any dark word she dared to speak next.

“No…no…please don’t…” it was her talking and she was stroking the side of his face and continued softly: “no, no…please…“

She leaned in and lay her cheek next to his and then kissed him gently next to his mouth.

Her sweet kiss was a benediction, a balm to this impossible pain.

His hands reached up to stroke her cheek, the backs of his knuckles skimming the water smooth lightness of her white skin.

“Oh god…” William murmured as frisson’s of light and love ignited a sweet trail down through his body to erupt the dry kindling of his nether regions into fire.

“Oh dear god…” he whispered. He was being undone, undone, unwound, undone and into what?

 “Oh god…” he whispered again and leaned his head down into the crook of her neck as he struggled to breathe…what was happening to him?

He felt her hands stroking his back, firm and warm and penetrating the tweed of coat and into his flesh, she loved him with her gentle stroking hands

“Shh…shh…you’ll be o.k….you will…you are strong…stronger than you know…shh…you are beautiful…so beautiful…”

Her voice was light but he could hear it waver and he pulled back to look at her and he saw her eyes filled and ready to overflow…

He stroked her cheek and her tears tripped and fell down to slide over the knuckles of his hands.

And then he leaned in and kissed her gently on the cheek, and then her lips soft, so soft, feather light and then ignited now he kissed her again and moaned as he leaned into her trying to breathe her in, to feel her all at once…

She leaned back to catch her breath…her fingers moved up to her mouth to touch her lips all the while looking into his glazed eyes…

“You are so beautiful…” She breathed as she leaned in and kissed him, pressing into him, pressing her body, her breasts up against his chest until they flattened. He felt her soft mouth push hard against his and when he sat there stunned, she relaxed her desperate grip into something more civil and opened her mouth, coaxing his open with her lips and then her tongue was slipping inside his mouth and he moaned and gripped her shoulders and pushed her back onto the divan.

When he pulled back for air Buffy saw his avid expression, his glazed eyes and she knew it had to be now and fast…

"God, you're starving...we're not gonna wait anymore...I'm not gonna make you wait...to hell with them..."

"Buffy..." He panted as he stroked her hair. It was the almost clumsy gesture of a child learning how to pet a small pup. He didn’t know what to do. He had never been with a woman before, best to…

He pulled away from her, stood and then staggered like a drunken man into the center of the room, leaned over slightly and took big gulps of air as he tried desperately to pull himself together and circumvent the ultimate male embarrassment.

Buffy pulled herself up and then pushed the coffee table far off to the side and there was the sound of breaking cutlery as the empty cup fell off her lap and onto the floor and then she was there in front of him with her hands moving slowly, reverently up his arms and so hungry was he for the touch of this woman he closed his eyes and surrendered to the sensation of being with another human being.

Of being with her…

When she caressed his cheek he opened his eyes and he breathed…

"Why are you doing this?"

"You are so beautiful...aren’t you tired of being alone?"

He nodded against her palm and she leaned in and kissed him gently feather light on the lips and then leaned against him for support. She deepened the kiss and he gripped her arms tight to hold her up to him but when she slipped her tongue into his mouth his knees buckled and the world fell away as he swooned to the floor.

He fell to his knees and she pushed him gently on to his back and then he felt her hands grappling with his clothes; touching him…down there…and then there was the sound of buttons popping as she freed his member--he was so hot and hard when she gripped him a shiver jolted through her hand to ignite her womb and she growled soft and low in hunger and then she was astride him now, desperate to have him in her and dizzy as he was, his senses were sharpened and brought to surreal keenness when he felt himself being guided up into a hot tight velvet space; sucked up into a steaming liquid that gripped him as she eased herself down on him. His soul gasped and he felt himself surrounded and gripped tight by something that could only be described as a hot heaven, his new haven, his Buffy–he felt a tear past a barrier and she cried out in pain and pleasure and pushed the rest of the way, all the way on down until he was buried in her to the hilt.

"Ahhh....uhhhh....." her head was thrown back as she reveled in being impaled.

His head rocked from side to side as he began to panic from the onslaught of sensation. He gripped her

hips wanting something...something...

"Shhh...shhh..." she was leaning over him now..."Shhh....William...it's all right...shhh....

His world had just crashed into a million pieces...not exactly alright...

She squeezed...something down there...and he gasped...she squeezed again slowly almost gently and released...

She looked at his face, watched his face, she watched the shock slowly become something akin to beatific awe…and waited…

He looked into her eyes and nodded dumbly and slowly she leaned over, kissed him...and then she began to move and the whole world went blotto.

He was aware of hearing himself bellow followed by her yowl and then a log fell on the fire and there was a shower of sparks and it all happened within four minutes and 25 seconds.

*

Chapter 6 Will, March Fourth Fortuitous 2010

Verse 8:

“Abandon wild flowers,

soft flour for goodbye cakes… “

                                      William Ashley-Pitt

*

Seeing him had been like having her skin stroked gently with a white feather.

That simple.

That clean and kind.

It was like being on fire but not knowing you were until a soft touch cooled you, eased you, reminded you how it good it could be.

Spike.

Spike.

Alive.

Alive.

Just quietly drinking his tea or coffee or whatever, there at the back of the restaurant and:

'Oh is that the English gentleman you were asking after?'

And yes...yes it was. For a long time now.

He hadn't looked up and he hadn't looked her way and it had been hard to see him too. She had to squint her eyes to see him at all. Like he was camouflaged, or smaller than normal or clouded somehow. After the French waiter had pointed him out–she had tried to get up and go to him; but there had been a wall or a force that held her in the chair and said softly but very firmly: 'no.'

Not a request–a cosmic order.

And she knew he didn't want to see her...or...he was willing to talk to her to help her...but in his way...

And it hurt, knowing this, but then there was a round of laughter from her friends at the table. And she looked at Jack and Xander palling around and talking sports and she got it.

But...it...it was Spike...it was Spike...and the pull of him, the thought of him, the sight of him sitting there, right there so frail and mighty in the world at the same time and she missed him, she missed him and she should do something so he would know--so he would know that she saw him, that she would always see him in the small places of the world and the great places of her heart and with the sound of a popping cork from a nearby table, the happy, brash, intrusive, nostalgic sweet sound, she knew what it could be...

Scrubbing bubbles.

*

They went to hear some fine Jazz and outside New Orleans and some points south there was no better place than New York City for a taste.

Giles loved Jazz and even though Buffy was feeling subdued and wanted to go home and sit alone with her heart and the moon, it wasn't fair to the others who were having such a fine time.

Her earlier portent of the evening had been an auspicious one. This, indeed, would be an evening to remember.

Jack reached over and took her hand across the table and she curled her fingers up around his and felt the strong steady sweetness that was him. Solid. Kind. He was a good man.

A figure walking past Xander was jostled by someone behind him and so in a strange chain reaction the stranger fell a little against Xander's back--it was a man clad in black leather with short blonde hair and as the stranger straightened himself, he quickly offered his apologies and Xander turning around, said something like:

" That's o.--"

But the second consonant got caught in his throat as he did a double take of the man who was already walking away.

Buffy's heart slammed for a moment and then she relaxed...of course it wasn't Spike...just a look alike thing. She knew where Spike was tonight and what he looked like these days but Willow gasped and then popped out.

"Oh my god...how odd...that's the second guy tonight I've seen that looks like Spike. Buffy, I forgot to tell you...I was so excited to see you I forgot, on my way into the restaurant, I saw a man that looked a lot like Spike and of course, there's no chance that it was...not so much as looks as COMPLETELY different energy field...but isn’t that so strange to see two look a-likes back to back and there is no such thing as coincidence. I wonder if something is up...what do you think?"

Buffy looked around at her dear friends, shrugged slightly but said nothing.

They were quiet for a moment as they all remembered Spike and it was Xander who spoke first and now he had to speak over the music so he raised his voice slightly as the others leaned in to listen:

"You know...there was just this bad penny quality to the guy...I mean he always seemed so...indestructible...like Tupperware...I guess I always thought he'd turn back up somewhere, sometime."

"Yeah, I know what you mean–I always thought that if anyone could talk his way out of a tight spot, he could, I mean, how does a creature like that, just fade away…" Willow offered as a general observation.

Creature? Buffy looked down at her hands and noticed one was rubbing the other.

Giles looked at Buffy briefly and then took a sip of his scotch and said.

"Betraying the Circle of Thorns, would have put him on the outs with most demons and certainly all Vampires, if he is alive, he would almost certainly be forced to go underground...so to speak..."

"If he‘s in hiding--I‘m sure he has a very good reason...I'm sure of it..."

It was Buffy saying this and so final was the tone of her voice it sounded like 'them's fightin' words.'

There was silence for a moment and then Giles offered simply. "I'm not saying he was wrong to do it...the vibrational record seems to indicate the resulting action very well saved us the world and not a small amount of cleanup on our part...but it would be perfectly within his nature to break form and go against an existing power structure...no matter whom. That was always what made him dangerous Buffy. Spike did what he wanted."

"Or what you wanted." This slipped out from Xander

And Jack looked sharply at him and then at Buffy curiously.

"Who is Spike?" he asked simply.

Silence.

Absolute stunned silence.

Jack didn't know about Spike? Buffy and he had been seeing each other for a year and a half and...and he didn't know about Spike? Xander had just assumed and now he didn't say it but his girlfriend Margie did:

"Ooops." She said on a small giggle and then burped an exclamation point.

"Ah thanks Margie...always great to have in a political debate too...savvy, well informed and sexy." The words were a little sharp, but he smiled at her and she smiled back and flipped her hair to her side.

"That's me." She agreed--took a sip of beer; gargled with the brew at the back of her throat and then...swallowed.

“Hey Margie, lets find the Ladies room...” Millie said in her low bright voice of authority as she hoisted Margie to her feet. Millie sent a questioning look to Buffy who looked back at her friend blankly, Millie’s mouth pulled up into a half smile and then off they went leaving the old friends to themselves for moment.

"Ah...getting back to the subject..." Jack ventured

"Spike was...--" Giles began but Buffy cut him off calmly

"Spike is not someone, a creature to be scorned in a bar and seeing how you didn't know him well, any of you guys--I don't see how you can talk about him."

She was calm and her voice was light but the implication was clear. Continue on this course and it was a party killer.

Willow looked at her closely for a moment and then ventured quickly before anyone else could speak.

"We should quiet down anyway and listen to the music...we're...ahem...drawing 'looks.'

And so they relaxed back into the evening.

But when Buffy took Jacks hand later across the table he was slow to respond and wouldn't turn to look at her.

*

They were out in front of the club waiting for the valet to hail a taxi.

Giles and Willow shared a taxi back to their hotel as it was the same; and Millie escorted Xander and Margie back to Chelsea, as that was near where she lived.

That left Buffy and Jack to wait for their taxi.

"You're quiet."

It was Jack's observation and he leaned his body against hers in a friendly way and she stiffened for a second, just a second, but he caught the vibe and looked at her more closely.

.

He noted the slightly puffy eyes and he remembered the dash to the restroom and--what could he say, what could he do? Grief was a personal thing...but...but was there no end to this for her? Was there no end for them both?

"Buff..."

"I'm O.K. Jack, really, and she let him look into her eyes so he could see for himself and he relaxed a bit. He sighed and wrapped his arm around her. The taxi arrived and they slipped in.

Eyes out the window, Buffy watched the city move by like liquid light. Liquid light in the inky black night.

"Who's Spike?"

It was Jack of course and Buffy drew in a deep breath as she considered where to begin, what to say.

"It was him tonight..."

"What? What was him?" Jack asked softly

"At the restaurant...the man Willow saw..it was him..."

Silence for a moment and then Jack said carefully, "Well...O.K....but that still doesn't tell me who he is."

Buffy turned away from the window to look into his warm brown eyes that were a little strained now as he tried to see into her. When she said nothing, he offered;

"I thought you had told me about all your old boyfriends...I thought we had covered that from both sides...mine too..."

"He wasn't my boyfriend."

Pause. Oh.

"Oh...O.K. well, now that you told me what he wasn't ...why not tell me what he was?" His voice was getting a little sharp.

"Why is this bothering you? I didn't even go over to see him."

Jack leaned forward on the seat to look at her better.

"Buffy...it's because you didn't go over to see him, it's because there are huge chucks of your life I know nothing about, it's because--"

"--it's because we haven't slept together for a while..."

"Six months isn't a while...six months is a very long time in a relationship..." and here Jack and Buffy saw the taxi driver, turn his head a little almost like he wanted to offer his two cents in the piggy.

"You wanna talk about this now?" Buffy asked, her voice a little lower.

"Now, yesterday, in ten minutes...some time, yeah...I wanna know where we are going..."

"We're...we're going to be fine..." Buffy said softly with a hitch in her voice.

Jack looked at her for a moment and then sighed and drew her close up against his side but said nothing more...for now.

*

They were sitting side by side in the overstuffed chairs by the window of Buffy's hotel room having a nightcap and looking at the view and it was sometime near morning but neither were inclined towards sleep, afraid that if they parted for the evening...they would part...and still they hadn't talked.

Jack had hoped they would make love that evening, Buffy had been so bright and positive in the early evening and then things had turned downward. And now they sat there side by side but far away from each other.

Buffy spoke quiet into the quiet to somehow ease her way into this.

"...I've been sitting here trying to find a word...or a bunch of words I could put together that could help you understand what Spike was to me...it’s...it’s just so personal, so between us, between him and me--that words wouldn't help, no, not at all and so I never talk about him. He belongs to me...it's personal..."

Jack rolled over in his deep chair on his side and looked at her.

"Talk about him....just say anything..."

Pause.

"I...can't...I don't want to..."

He nodded and looked up slightly over her head...

"You don't have to be ashamed of anything with me, you know..."

She turned to look at him and: "Are you reading me? Did I say you could read me?"

"I need some kinda clue, Buffy, you're not helping and no I won't spy...I can't if you don't want me too, you know that, I just see a little shame of some kind...not, not you...it's him...you were ashamed of him?"

She turned her head away from him but said.

"Off and on...at the beginning, not at the end."

Well this was different than what Jack had expected. He had been afraid; he had thought he would see some tragic buried love...but you didn't love someone you were ashamed of.

He looked up and away into space for a moment and then said softly.

"He loved you..."

"Yes..."

His face grew puzzled and then confused and then he sighed. "Well you're right...it's a mix of things that belong to you two the akashic record is definitely shut. Huh...it’s not part of the public account."

"Told you..."

Jack chuckled and leaned back in the chair and said softly as he fell toward sleep.

"...Sorry about Dawn, Buffy...sorry..."

"I know...I know..."

And then he looked out the window at the sunrise, but she did not.

“And I’m sorry about the…baby…about losing the…” his voice was so very faint.

“It wasn’t even a baby yet, just a…” Just a what? Instead of finishing the sentence she said instead. “They all say that if you miscarry early then something’s wrong and it’s…just as well…just…”

“I’m sorry you’ve suffered Buffy but so have I and why can’t we help each other instead…”

Pause. And then Buffy said a little stunned.

“I thought we were.”

“You are afraid of me…you won’t let me touch you…”

She pulled herself up in the chair to look at him and they stared at each other and finally she said.

“That’s not fair…it’s not…and it’s not true…”

“Then what is true?” he asked simply.

She could have said any one or all of the reasons she had used over the past year but they wouldn’t come out…just wouldn’t so she spoke the truth.

“I don’t know.”

He looked at her for a moment and then nodded and looked back out the window at the sunrise and he didn’t say this because he wasn’t sure yet and it would be terrible for her to hear, but he would look into it and by morning he would have an answer because he deserved one too. He was in this too and so he would use that leverage to look into the records and see what was true and what wasn’t.

He went asleep to go get it.

*

Jack was asleep…just like that…he had fallen asleep…well, let him rest, she had to think.

It was hard to think around the loss, the sharp edges of it poked at her until the will to live was bleeding out of her.

So many years, so much loss and it all twisted together somehow...she let her mind drift as she thought.

Of course Spike showing up tonight was serendipitous, of course it was, there were no accidents and so she began by looking at that.

She hadn't been ashamed of Spike, not that last year...but...she had been cautious. When the world saw your mate, they saw your secret self turned inside out, they saw the thing about you that you kept secret in the world. And what would it have meant back then to have Spike at her side? That is, as her mate?

The world would see the bitty Buffy who wanted to drink hot chocolate, play with Spike and Dawn and write haiku.

The Buffy who loved so hard her heart would be in her eyes for everyone to see and how could a warrior live that way? How did Spike live that way?

But if that was her fear from long ago, it certainly wasn't now. Not for a very long time. The very fact that she could see it now made it past tense. When you go through enough grief it’s easy to find out that love, more love, only helps.

She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly filling her lungs and then breathed this thought out to the world like a prayer:

I love you Spike...wherever you are, whoever you are in the world I kiss you on the cheek.

And then she imagined kissing the odd man she had seen in the restaurant, the beautiful soul who

had come to her rescue as she floundered on the couch in the restroom and kissed him gently and dang, if she didn't actually feel his flesh up against her lips and feel his soul sigh as he kissed her back.

*

You're right Buffy, He wasn't your boyfriend. He was your intended.

If not actually your mate or husband, he was your intended and the bond hasn't been broken. There is silver cord between you and now I'm going to say something that sounds terrible but I have to because I think you should know for your own sanity and future well being. The reason you haven't been able to bond with me...the reason why you lost our child...is because you are still under energetic contract to him. You're right, he was never your boyfriend, it is much deeper...I looked more deeply into it this morning and I saw a ring exchanged with a promise to wed and it was never returned and so the promise still ties you both. You have a bond --you relied on each other as mates do. I have seen the silver cord between you, I have and so has Spike’s soul and here is something you should know--he has tried to cut it to set himself free but he can't because you are the one still holding on to the other side of it, of him--needing him and he can't bear to see you suffer and so he can't cut it and you haven't cut it--because you can't even acknowledge that it exits. So this is what it is.

Close your eyes now and think of him and see the cord stretching out to him through time and space...how you have both made it over the years, what it looks like...now imagine a knife in your hand, or scissors and cut it. If you can't cut it for yourself, be merciful and cut it for him. Let him go.

Is it still there?

If it's isn't, please call me, I'll be at my sisters for a month If not. Please don't. I love you Buffy, I do, but I love myself too and I want a woman who will be my woman.

Jack

*

That was the note that was on the table when she woke the next day.

He had fallen asleep in the chair and she had covered him with a blanket and now the blanket was folded into a neat square and he was gone like a successful magic trick.

It was almost noon and she went and sat down in a chair by the window and looked out over the city skyline and thought absolutely nothing.

She let her mind go blank, her emotions go numb as she looked out at the Atlantic ocean and midday sky and studied the contrast of blue on blue.

*

Chapter 7 William, August Second Choice 1880

Verse:  

“My hair will be old, my thoughts gone gray

my human measure without you…”

                                                   William Ashley-Pitt

*

When he opened his eyes, when he came back to himself it was to look into her face as she lay prone next to him by the dying fire.

He heard the low, very low crack and hiss of embers doing their last and best to burn bright.

He saw her hair, gold, liquid gold and spilling over bare shoulder. The shoulder of her blue gown had been pushed down or torn in their…well, before and now it was bare. Bare white flesh all the way to her where her breasts were still bound by her corset. A dark and dusty pink aureole was peeking over the top of the white lace and he felt himself growing hard again…

God…this woman…this woman…

He looked back up and into her eyes and lost himself in her soft expression. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to breathe didn’t want to break the bond between them.

A strand of golden hair fell across her face and without thinking he reached out and smoothed it back so he could keep looking into her eyes.

She leaned in and kissed him gently and he felt his body rise to meet hers with one simple request.

More.

She heard the unspoken poem of lovers and quietly picked up his hand and placed it on her breast. He sighed.

He gently felt her soft mound beneath the corset and then with one finger, he traced, skimmed as light as a birds breath the exposed flesh surrounding her nipple.

She gasped and her body jerked up and then toward him, and she was on fire again that fast, arching her hips up toward him in the ancient mating call of now, now, now…

He did. He gripped her hip, pushed her onto her back, moved her skirts up, unceremoniously parted her legs and fumbled for a moment as he gripped his hard and already pounding member and fumbled for a moment to find the hot opening to her sweet grip and yes…there…oh god, oh dear god…he pushed up into her…but it was tight and almost overwhelming and he would have to push hard to get up and all the way in where he wanted to be.

He gripped her hips to hold her still and then bit down on his lip and pushed through the tight, taunt earth of her he pushed, through his own sweat and tears he pushed, through the never ending forever waiting he pushed until they broke together in the hot lava of all the way in.

“Ahh…god….ahhh Buffy, Buffy love…“ he groaned as he leaned over and panted…

He felt her arms, her hands on his back on the small of his back and her moans, her soft moaning...

This was different…different sensations than before, or maybe it was the position, of being on top…it made him want to push into her, to take her again and again…he pulled almost all the way out of her so he could take her again...

And so he did it again, he pushed into her; hard and slow and right into her as she lay splayed before him, hair spilling on the carpet like white gold milk from a child’s drinking cup. He choked on a sob and then pulled out a ways to push back in…

Buffy lay there stroking his arms, stroking his back to calm him as she moved her legs up to entwine around his.

She wrapped her arms around him as he hit her O, oh god, seeing god spot several times in a row like an accidental genius discovering a comet coming to splatter hither, thither and yon…

She yowled and bit his neck to keep from screaming and her body jack knifed as she came hard, very hard and then came again softer now but deeper too and now William was pumping as fast as her deep earth would allow and spilling into her and then collapsing on a sob--kissing her face, her neck and touching her hair…

“God…thank you…thank you…”

One of them breathed out loud and the other one sobbed inside and the difference mattered not at all.

*

Buffy smiled…they certainly were writing the text book on hard and fast. And crude as he was, untutored as he was William, could give Spike a run for his money.

Or maybe the raw aspect of their lovemaking thus far was part of mind blowing need. Nothing hidden, all out and no secrets about how much they wanted each other.

Ah...so that part of Spike…was William…

“You’re smiling.” William observed softly.

“I’m smiling.” Buffy responded just as soft as if the quiet tones they used now in the house would help those sleeping.

Sorta like watering the house after it burned down.

Moot.

They were still entwined but side by side and the fire was quite out.

The fire in the fireplace that is.

He stroked her hair and kissed her cheek. And bit his lip to keep from saying it. He already said it and she hadn’t….but then they had…well twice …so maybe things had changed…yes, of course things had changed, everything was different now…

She gently pulled away from him, disengaging herself and he knew a fear like nothing he had experienced previously in his life.

But then she was standing above him and holding out her hand and he took it and got to his feet.

He subtly, as subtly as was social (what was the correct behavior for tucking yourself back in post coitus?) put himself back in order and said simply.

“I…I...do you want me to...gggo...(?)” It was so soft it was barely outloud.

“No. It’s dark…” Buffy said simply, as if that itself was reason enough… “Dark…and late…besides if you leave now…you won’t get to see me naked.”

She said this simply, with no coy looks, no flirt, not even a toss of the hair as she headed for the staircase. She looked back at him just once and when she saw he started to follow her, she resumed climbing the staircase.

*

They said nothing as they went up the stairs, down the hallway and then into her room. She moved on in ahead of him…fumbled in the dark for a match and then lit one candle, no, two candles and then turned to look at him. William quietly closed the door behind him and then turned to face her absolutely clueless as to what was expected of him.

Buffy came to him and took him gently by the hand and led him to the bed. When he just stared at it like a obscure Latin text to be translated, she pushed him gently on the bed until he sat. And then helped him out of his tweed coat.

He never took his eyes off her. Her soft but strong fingers undoing the buttons that hadn’t been ripped off yet.

She stepped back and then undid the hook and eye catches along the side of her gown and then came up close to him and turned her back to him indicating that he should unfasten the catches in back.

It was dark and so he did it by touch. Felt for the little metal bump, caught it on one end and lifted from the other.

Undone she shrugged out of her gown and he was greeted briefly with the expanse of her naked back before her golden hair fell back down over her shoulder concealing the flesh from view.

She turned and then undid the catches on the front panel of her corset and let it fall to the floor. Pulled her thin chemise over her head. White material going up, up, over naked belly, then button, then breasts.

William wanted to cry. Truly.

She stood there before him naked to the waste, the creamy perfection of her skin, her breasts round and supple and hanging just heavy enough to be called fruit.

And if that wasn’t enough, she dropped her petticoat and revealed her narrow waste in contrast to her rounded hips and there, the little mop of curls, pointing like a little arrow to the gateway, to his heaven on earth.

If she said something, anything he didn’t hear it. He was aware of her fingers gentle on his cheeks wiping his tears away. Had he been crying? Perhaps….but it was joy, joy…

He buried his face between her breasts and then turned his head and kissed the nearest one reverently. He heard her sharp inhale of breath and felt her arms tighten in reflex.

That was a surprise. So she liked that did she? He kissed her breast again, softer this time, letting a slip of tongue come out and kiss her creamy flesh so he could taste her now as she had kissed him on the mouth.

Her breath was a hiss now and now he kissed her nipple and her knees buckled and he caught her and swung her around and placed her on the bed.

She looked up into his eyes, her face flushed, her eyes glazed…

“Do you like that Buffy?” he asked softly she nodded but remained mute. “Will you show me…show me what you like…what do you want?”

Her hand drifted up and tugged at his slacks and then at his underclothes--he gulped, but he understood. He had never been naked before another human being, as far as he could recall…this would be a stretch for him…but he would.

He took off his remaining clothes quickly, at last removing his small clothes until he stood with his back toward her and swung around to slide in next to her–but her hand stopped him at the shoulder…

“Let me see you…William…”

It was the way she said his name that did it. There was something about being called by name, being known. He turned and faced where she lay on the bed and watched her face soften as she looked at him.

His body wasn’t as hard as Spike, but he was toned and, and he glowed, his skin almost glowed in the night, sung out to her to be touched.

She gestured for him to come closer and he did. She sat up slightly in order to touch his left arm, skim lighting across his chest, palm on his flat belly and then…there.

Her fingers traced the line of hair growing faintly near his belly button and then on down to his already erect member. She gripped his member gently with her left hand and leaned down to give the head of his penis a chaste kiss.

It was too much, too intense, he needed to pounce:

He hissed and his body jerked and he climbed up on the bed and pushed her back to cover her naked body with his…she used the momentum and rolled him onto his side and they lay side by side looking into each other, kissing gently and touching where they wanted….curious fingers daring into new places–slow, slow down the back to gently cup the buttocks--kissing her neck, kissing down her neck and now there into the crook where the curve calls to him he kisses her almost biting and when he feels her body tremble and lean against him, he grips her neck gently with his teeth to hold her still--she raises her leg up over him, inclines her womb up to greet him and he grips her hip, searches for the soft opening to her and then pushes slowly, so slowly up into her.

And if the first two times had been hard and fast, it had taken the edge of desperation off them both for now they were slow and careful with each other…less interested in an explosive ending than just being…just being inside each other…

Just being kind…

*

Finally worn down, William had fallen asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around her and Buffy had dozed for a bit, an hour or two perhaps but her inner clock was on alert and waiting for…

The knock…yes…there it was. A gentle light tap on her door. And then very soft.

“Buffy?”

It was Willow. It was time.

Oh god…

Softly Buffy reached out with her mind to Willows and whispered.

(I’m awake…)

(Is…um…)

(…yes…he’s here…)

(…we gotta go Buff…)

Pause.

(I know…I’ll be there, gimme a minute)

The faint sound of feet padding away and the small squeak of the floorboard in the hallway.

She slowly, slowly disengaged herself from Williams embrace…god, he should be exhausted enough to sleep through anything, she ought to be able to get away unnoticed.

She went into the bureau and pulled out her dark khaki slacks and black turtle neck shirt, she slipped into them quickly, skipping the underwear…now paper, paper, paper…pen, damn those ink cartridges…she reached into the deep side pockets of her slacks and found a pen, clicked the end and started to write…what?

What would she say?

“Just tell me…”

It was his voice but so low and dusky…it sounded just like Spike. She swung around to look at him.

“Don’t write it, just tell me…”

“I have to go, Spi…William…I’ll be back by morning, I’ll…”

He pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked at her. Said nothing, just looked at her for a long moment and then asked.

“What kind of trouble are you in Buffy? Why…are you dressed in mens clothes and…where are you going at what must be past two?”

“I won’t be alone…Giles and Willow are coming with me….”

“Well, so am I--”

“--No. You are not.”

He stopped and looked at her and said simply, softly;

“Buffy…”

“I can’t explain it all right now, I don’t have time….William, please just believe me, when I say I have to do this thing…”

“Do what?”

She searched for the words to describe this in a way he would understand.

“My…destiny…”

That paused him. He looked at her his brows pulling together slightly.

What in the world could that mean? He knew she was different; extraordinary even--but what could this mean? Only…criminals…or…no--she said destiny…and there was all the talk of politics and revolution…and espionage? Was Buffy a spy? Only such people would have reason to traffic about at such hours and in such clothes. He took a deep breath and almost whispered.

“Who are you Buffy? You, you can trust me, you know you can...I love you…”

“I know you do…and…“ and here she took a breath and looked at him and said simply:

“I love you William…“

She watched as the words went into him, deep inside him and then asked needlessly

“You know that right? You can feel it…”

His face had grown soft and open at her words but now he was already getting out of bed and into his slacks and now his shirt and Buffy watched feeling helpless.

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn ass would get himself killed if he followed her into the night.

She was thinking fast.

“William, listen to me…”

“No.” he said firmly as he scrambled in the dark for his shoes.

“William, listen--”

“--No.”

“William…please…please listen, I’m telling you now, are you gonna stop to hear me?”

He stopped at the sound of her voice and looked at her and waited and when she spoke her words were level and calm and came from deep inside her but he felt a chill at the sound and knew fear, real fear as he heard her.

“William…there are things in this world, monsters, evil, terrible things beyond what ordinary people can fight…I’m sure you’ve heard stories, you can’t live in London all your life and not hear stories…”

“One hears things…” he said as he struggled into his shoes, he had to take his eyes off her so she wouldn’t see him think; here is the left shoe…no switch them, now left, then right…

“Well, they are probably true, but because there is balance…for all the evil in the world…there are good people too.”

“Stop talking to me as if I were a child.” He said in a low even voice.

He was right.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. This is it then. I’m Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and I’m not really here, we, Giles, Willow and me pushed sideways and made a temporary bubble to view your time in cuz it’s one of the nearest timelines to our own. I’m from the future or sideways from another dimension depending on how you look at it and I’m here with my Watcher and Willow who is one of the most powerful witches alive from where I come from and we are here to watch or spy really on one of your olde world wizards and see how he closes a tear into a nasty icy hell hole. We are just here to watch and learn and you were an accident, but not really because I wanted to see you so bad and I love you, I love you more than you can understand right now and if something happens and we bounce back after we see the main event…and I don’t see you again…”

William felt he had been kicked in the gut during her strange rambling, he drew in a breath to steady himself and pause as he put his thoughts in order and then it was easy because no matter, no matter, no matter the state of her mind, he loved her, more dearly now, if possible…ahh...

“Ah…Buffy…Buffy…ah love…” William stepped in and held her to him…

”My Buffy…you’ve suffered, you’ve suffered so…you aren’t thinking quite as…as clearly as you might…you’ve suffered so and…I’ll help you…I will, my Mother and I cared for my Aunt and so I understand how the world can break a person apart…and we helped her, we did…everyone said it couldn’t be done…but we helped her back…shhh…it will be all right…I’ll help you…I love you–I’ll love you back because I’ll never leave you…”

Buffy quieted in his arms, she let him hold her and then slowly wrapped her arms up around him and held him fiercely for a long moment and whispered this into his flesh:

“Thank you…thank you…you’ve saved me tonight William…you have…you’ve given me back a part of myself I never thought I’d have again…I only hope I have given you enough…just remember what I said…o.k….please?”

She had started speaking into his chest, but her words were muffled and so William pulled back slightly so he could see and hear her a’right.

She looked up at him tenderly and said softly. “You are a good man William, God must love me so much to let you love me…”

She kissed him then and nuzzled her head against his chest and then turned and kissed his chest, his heart. He stroked the side of her face as she spoke this:

“Be strong…you can do this…you can live all the way through life…”

“Ill hold you up love, I will…you just need to feel safe…and I’ll keep you safe…I promise…” he said

softly in response.

She kissed him once more on the lips letting the gentle haze of worlds best gift glow in them both…and then reached back and delivered a right upper cut to the underside of his jaw snapping his head back and knocking him out.

She caught him before he fell to the floor. And wondered about taking him back to the bed…but that just seemed wrong. So she got a pillow for his head and a comforter to keep him warm, kissed him on the cheek. And said.

“Hopefully, I’ll be back in a few hours…and you can yell at me then…”

But she was not.

*

End of William’s First World

*