ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES

CHAPTER 179 – THANKSGIVING DAY

NOVEMBER 27, 2009
THURSDAY
8:00AM

"Another cuppa tea?" Mrs. Greeves asked.

"Yes, please," Giles replied gratefully.

He was having trouble getting started that morning. Although there hadn't been much interaction between them after William returned from his day in Greenwich, he'd been all too aware of him, having been awoken in the middle of the night by the incessant pacing going on in above him in the third floor bedroom. 'Should've taken that into consideration, when assigning guest bedrooms,’ Giles thought ruefully. Spike never could stand still for long. He also hadn't realized just how many squeaky floorboards the old place truly had.

Mrs. Greeves returned from the kitchen, setting down the cup in front of him. "Will Mr. Worthington be taking his breakfast early today, you suppose?"

Giles shook his head, "No, I don't imagine he will. Just keep it in the oven, in case he rises before dinner hour, please."

Mrs. Greeves huffed silently. "Of course, Mr. Giles," she said, through her tight, thin lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2:00PM

When William finally awoke, it was late in the afternoon. Groggily, he made his way down to the loo on the second floor. There, propped up on the counter, was a note with his name scrawled across it.

He opened it, and started reading.

William,

I was hoping you’d be awake by the time I arrived home, so I could extend this invitation to you from the girls.

Since today is Thanksgiving Day, and many of the girls are from The States, they wanted a little touch of home. Therefore, they’ve decided to do their own dinner, (Lord, help us) and have extended us both an invitation.

It would please them greatly, if you would attend.

Dinner will be at 3:00pm, at the Council house. If you don’t feel like walking, call me on the mobile, and I’ll pick you up.

Giles

P.S. I can reasonably assure you there will be no attacking Indians.

William read the last line over twice. Must be something to do with the first Thanksgiving Day, though he didn’t recall ever reading about the Indians attacking. He shrugged.

In any case, he didn’t see himself being very good company, nor did he want yet another reminder of where his life was now, compared to a year ago. Not that he could help it. As he went back up to his bedroom to dress, his mind kept replaying all the scenes from last year.

They'd awoken to an early season's snow, which had delighted both of them, but especially her.

"It's a time-honored ritual; the watching of the Thanksgiving Day parades,” Elizabeth had explained, snuggling up to him on the couch, after bringing their coffee and muffins into the living room, “marking the beginning of the holiday season."

Halfway through the show, she’d left to start preparations, but made him promise to let her know when the ‘big fellow’ was about to make his appearance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Santa's coming up," William said with a grin, as he stuck his head into the kitchen.

William chuckled seeing her delight toward the icon representing almost every child’s most cherished holiday icon. Santa made his way down the avenue, pulled by pretend reindeer, on a pretend sleigh, but that seemed perfectly normal to all the onlookers.

"Don't you dare make fun," Elizabeth warned, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Believe in Father Christmas, do you?"

"Definitely; especially since he brought my present early this year."

"He did now, did he?" William asked. "And what would that be?"

Her hand had come up, gently caressing his cheek. "You're here, aren't you?"

He nodded, swallowing the lump that had suddenly risen to his throat, "That I am, luv," he'd replied softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He smiled at the memory of how she’d fretted over having the big meal turn out just right. Even though it was only to be the two of them, and Clem.

"Today I bow to the tradition of men watching football or some other testosterone driven activity, while the women-folk, slave over a hot stove," she'd said, trying to shoo him out of the kitchen.

He’d quirked his eyebrow upward, truly puzzled by her words; their lack of tradition in this regard having suited them just fine, thus far.

"Who are you, and what did you do with my woman?"

"Very funny. I just...your woman, huh?” she’d asked, a charming little blush coloring her cheeks, as she tilted her chin up towards him, grinning. Then, she’d gone all serious again. “ I just want to do this today, okay, William? I'm not going to go all Martha Stewart on you or anything, so don't worry.”

"Martha who?"

"Stewart, she’s...oh never mind."

"I'd rather watch you, he'd said suggestively, coming up and putting his arms around her; be your slave,"

She'd relaxed into his arms for a moment, murmuring with pleasure as he planted kisses down her neck. Then she pulled away.

"Oh no you don't, I know that trick, and that can only lead to badness. Well, not badness, goodness really...you know what I mean. Now out!"

William had laughed, retreating to the other room. He'd tried to get interested in a football game, but flipping channels during a commercial, soon became enamored over ‘Miracle on 34th Street’.

"Bloody brilliant that is," he murmured to himself when it had ended, having thoroughly enjoying the more traditional, elderly Father Christmas look of Edmund Gwenn.

Eventually, he stumbled onto an actual English ‘footie’ match, and duly settled into his assigned role. Delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen kept him frequently glancing that way, and every so often, he’d sneak up to the doorway to take a peek.

The soccer team he favored, Manchester United, had just scored a particularly difficult goal, when he heard a crash, followed by a string of swear words he’d never heard from Elizabeth before. He'd hurried to the kitchen to find her staring at a broken mixing bowl, and half-mashed potatoes now on the floor.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" he asked, going over to her, looking her up and down to check for injuries.

She shook her head. "I just wanted everything to be perfect this time," she said, wiping at her eyes.

William looked at her, his heart swelling in his chest, "It is luv, it's all perfect. You're perfect."

"Plus, I broke the mixing bowl," she said, sniffing through a crooked smile.

William took her in his arms, and softly kissing her, "Who cares?"

"I care!" she said angrily, taking a step back.

"I didn't mean I don't care about the day, or all the hard work you've put in," he added, trying to salvage what was beginning to feel was something that he wasn't quite understanding.

" What I mean, is that I care about you; more than any of this. Is that wrong of me to feel that way, Elizabeth?"

She looked at him, and softened, "Of course not. I care about you more than any of this either. I just wanted..."

"I know," he said, pulling her to him.

After that, she agreed to let him help her, and things fell into the normal, comfortable routine they’d established all these months. William set the table, uncorked the wine, cleaned up as needed; oh, and he made the mashed potatoes.

Following dinner, they took the remaining two bottles of wine Clem had brought into the living room. Eschewing football watching, the three had talked, listened to music, and watched old movies instead.

The following day, he and Elizabeth had picked out their first Christmas tree; the first she ever had in the house, she’d admitted. He remembered how her eyes had shone with pleasure when they found the perfect one, and how excited she’d been to find decorations for it, to share the simple joys with him, to...
How very perfect and simple everything had all seemed to be to him then; in love, and feeling loved for the very first time, he’d believed he was in the midst of embarking on a life he’d only once dreamed of.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as a wave of pain and longing coursed through him.

Fervently, he hoped that Elizabeth would be spending today with Dawn and John, or Clem. He couldn’t stand to think of her spending it as he planned to, alone.

He went down to the kitchen, and reheated the day’s dinner. Halfway back to his room, plate in hand, he heard a knock on the door. Looking out the window at the end of the hall, he saw an unfamiliar car parked outside. William carefully set down the plate, and came down the stairs. He could hear voices, and bent over the railing to have a look. A group of slayers, including Vi, were peering in through the door’s small windows. He quickly flattened himself against the stairwell, hoping they hadn’t seen him. He stayed there a few more minutes, until the knocking finally ceased and he heard the car pull away.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he retrieved his plate and headed back to his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10:30AM
JULIAN

The hardest thing about going back to school the following week, was the shift in how her fellow teachers and assistants treated her. She could hear this unspoken optimism when anybody spoke to her, and knew it probably had to do with Mrs. Carpello having talked to William, and making the assumption that they were back together. When she still remained mum about her circumstances by the next day, Mrs. Carpello had finally asked how ‘they’ were doing.

Briefly, Buffy explained to her that William had only come over to talk, when he happened to find her ill. By the next afternoon, she could feel the shift in all their attitudes. It was all she could do to hold her head up, and not break down in the face of their quiet, supportive sympathy.

William had told her that he would get in touch with her within a week or two, but she couldn’t help but jump every time the phone rang, and she spent more than a little time logged onto the Internet hoping for word from him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy was holding the carafe in one hand, the other holding her mug under the flow of coffee, when the phone rang. Nearly dropping both, Buffy quickly ran into the bedroom to grab it.

“Hello,” she said rather breathlessly.

“Hey, Buffy, it’s me. I just wanted to wish you Happy Thanksgiving Day, before John and I left.”

“Oh, hey, Dawn,” Buffy said brightly, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Happy Thanksgiving’s Day to you, too. What time is your flight to Sacramento?”

“It’s at 1:00, so we’re just walking out the door. Actually, John wanted to leave about an hour ago, but I convinced him that would really be ridiculous.”

“Well, he does have a point, being that it’s the biggest travel weekend of the year.”

“I have confidence we’ll have plenty of time,” Dawn said, giving John a wink, as he walked by carrying the suitcases.

“So are John’s parents picking you up at the airport?”

“No, we’re going to rent a car this time. His dad isn’t feeling too well, and his mom will be busy with the cooking, so we figured that would be easiest all around.”

“Well, have a great trip.”

“We will, it’s just...I wish you would’ve come with; I hate to think of you being all alone.”

“I won’t be alone, I’m going to Clem’s later. He’s doing all the cooking, so I’ll be set! Afterwards, we’re going to watch old movies.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Dawn said, sighing. She knew Buffy well enough to not buy all her light-hearted talk about having dinner with Clem and watching old movies. “I’ll call you when we get back on Sunday, okay? Maybe next weekend, we’ll come up there for a visit.

“That would be great. Go on now. Go make nice with the future in-laws.”

Dawn laughed.

“Bye, Dawn. Give my love to John.”

“I will. Bye, Buffy.”

“Bye,” Buffy said, clicking off. She was still standing there holding the phone, lost in her own thoughts, when it rang again.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Buffy,” intoned a familiar voice.

“Hey, Clem. I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“I’m leaving in a few minutes. What about you?”

“Oh, in about an hour or so,” Buffy fibbed. “I’ll probably get to my dad’s around noon.”

“Hey, there’s Snoopy!” Clem suddenly exclaimed, with a child’s glee.

“Snoopy? Huh?”

“In the parade! Don’t tell me you’re not watching the big Macy’s parade!”

The light bulb in her head went on, “Um...yeah. Sure I am! I’m just in the bedroom at the moment.”

“Good, because everyone has to watch the parades on Thanksgiving Day morning, to get into the holiday mood.”

“Yeah. That’s right, ” Buffy said, sighing softly.

His sensitive demon ears heard it anyway, and scrunched up his face, and silently chastised himself. “I’m sorry, Buffy,” Clem said, clearing his throat. “I sort of forgot...”

“It’s okay,” Buffy said, quickly cutting him off. She’d had all the sympathy she could muster for a while, and if Clem started in, she’d be reduced to a puddle before she knew it. So would he, for that matter, and she didn’t want to ruin his day as well. “Clem, look, I’ve got to go. I have to take a shower before I leave...”

“Sure, Buffy,” he said, hurriedly. “Well, tell everyone I say, Happy Thanksgiving Day, okay?”

“I’ll do that; take care.”

“You, too, Buffy. See you next week?”

“You betcha. Bye, Clem,” Buffy said, hanging up.

Looking at her address book in her phone, she pressed #6, and listened to the recording. “Hello, you have reached the voice mail of Hank Summers. Leave a message.”

“Hi, dad...its Buffy. I know Dawn said you were going to be out of town, but I just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving Day, so...Happy Thanksgiving Day. Bye,” she said hanging up.

Then, like she’d done so many other times, she called her voicemail and listened to an old message from William she’d saved, just to hear the sound of his voice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

11:00PM
GREENWICH

When he’d heard Giles return later in the evening, he’d forced himself to go downstairs to greet him. To his relief, Giles didn’t ask him either where he had been, or mention that the girls had come to the house to collect him.

“The girls sent me home with quite a substantial amount of leftovers,” his only statement regarding the day and the missed meal.

“Well, I think the turkey has finally gotten to me. Thank goodness it’s only once a year, even less here, or I daresay, we’d be all be walking around half-asleep,” Giles said, putting his hand over mouth to stifle a yawn. “Goodnight, William. I’ll be around tomorrow for dinner, if you wish to accompany me back to the office afterwards,” he’d offered, heading toward the stairs without waiting for an answer.

Back in his room, William sat at the table, laptop open in front of him, as he tried once again to compose a letter to Elizabeth. He’d promised both Elizabeth and Dawn he’d stay in contact.

He'd start with what he hoped, would be the easier of the two.

27 November 2009

Dear Dawn,

I hope this letter finds both you and John well. I also hope that you are spending today with your sister (or she with you, as the case may be). She needs you now more than she'll ever admit to. I know that much about her.

She told me that in the last five years, she'd hardly been in contact with any of her friends from Sunnydale, nor had she even once had you up to the house. I realize that she was going to college during that time, and you were finishing high school, and starting college. I also realize that Willow and Giles were in England, and Xander had moved to the other side of the country. Still, she cut herself off from everyone, and that couldn't have been good for her.

I hate to think that if I'd never come back, that she would still be out of contact with those of you she loves, and that love her. I can't bear to think that I could have had such an effect on her then, or that by my being gone now, I might cause her to start closing herself off again. Believe me, Dawn, that's the last thing I want!

I can hear your voice giving me a good dressing down; "Well, there's an easy answer to that, William..."

I won't insult you by using the 'C' word this time, either. You were right, it's not really any sort of answer. I owe you more than platitudes. I just don't have any answers right now.

Until then, for me, please take care of Elizabeth, and yourself.

Your friend always,

William


With a sigh, he rose, and walked over to the window. Opening it, he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, as he looked out at the lights twinkling off in the distance, toward the river. Cigarette finished, he put it out, and went back to the table.

For the next hour, he wrote to her. When he'd finished, he reread what he'd written. Sighing, he clicked on 'Select All,' hesitating a moment before hitting ‘Delete.'

The poet in him; the romantic man who loved deeply and truly, yearned to send her his heartfelt words. Beautiful words that were never meant for a computer screen, but for parchment, and written in the nicest calligraphy he could muster. He couldn't send them to her though, not in any form. To do so right now, would only serve to confuse her, he believed.

He started again, this time trying to keep his pain and longing out of his words.

27 November 2009

Dear Elizabeth,

...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4:00PM
JULIAN

Trying valiantly to forget that today, memories, rather than turkey were being served up, Buffy tried to find normal things to take her mind off other, not-so-normal things.

When cleaning a closet out had made her feel too claustrophobic, she’d shoved everything back in, and went for a walk in the woods. Unfortunately, seeing their ‘tree’ only worsened the pit of depression she was quickly falling into.

Next, she tried to do some training in the barn. That helped for a while, but now that place too, was filled with ghosts of what she considered the beginning of the end, of what her and William had shared.

Despairingly, she returned to the house.

“No!” she said, looking at the computer, having already checked it twice today - once this morning, then again before she left for her walk.

Sitting down on the couch, she stared at it for a long time. Finally, defeated she gave in to the urge.

“I’m just going to write to Willow,” she said aloud, as she logged on.

‘Sure you are,’ the little voice in her head mocked.

“Welcome,” chimed America Online. “You’ve got mail!”

“Yeah, I bet I do. Lemme guess - increase my penis size, get prescription drugs from Canada, send money to some dissident in....”

She stopped, as she saw the return address. It was from William! She quickly clicked on it, opening it up.

27 November 2009

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope this day finds you sharing it with those you love.

Know that if I could, I would be there with you.

I’ve been thinking a lot today about last year, and the wonderful meal you, ‘slaved’ over. I’m glad you finally let me help you. I would much rather mash potatoes in the kitchen with you, than watched football (even soccer) any day.

Believe me, if I could, I would turn back the hands of time, so we could always live in those most wonderful of times we shared. I will always cherish them, as I do you.

Always,

William

P.S. I forgot to mention - my current living arrangements are quite adequate for what I need at present. I have an upstairs bedroom complete with bed, table, bookcases, and lots of windows - no awful basement!

Also, so that you don’t worry - I’m not doing any demon fighting of any sort.

Buffy read the email, then reread it two more times. Initially, she'd been overjoyed to receive word, and happy that he'd mentioned wishing he could be with her. However, the more she read it, there was a subtext to his words that left her unsettled.

Her first reaction was to fire off an immediate reply, but she thought better of it. This wasn't a letter that asked for anything back; this much she knew.

She needed to get some perspective from someone on it. Picking up the phone, she clicked on 'tools,' and checked her international clock. Damn, it was probably a pretty dicey time to call. Still, not totally unheard of, right?

"Hello?"

"Willow? I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Buffy? Hey, how you doin? Is anything wrong? Any word from William?" came the rapid-fire questions.

"So-so, not really, and yeah, that's why I called, in answer to your questions," she said, with a laugh. "You know me so well, don't you?"

"Darn tootin! So, when did you hear from him?"

"Tonight. He emailed. He sounds okay, so I'm not even sure why I'm calling you, it's just...it's not so much what he said, but what he didn't say; how he said what he didn't say."

"What did he say, or rather not say?"

"Well, he said...um...what if I just read it to you?"

"Okay, or if you're still logged on, you could forward it, and I'll have a look."

"That sounds good. That way you'll be better able to hear his voice when you're reading it, right?"

Willow laughed, "Something like that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy forwarded the email, and waited a few minutes while Willow got online, and read it for herself.

"You there, Buffy?"

"I'm here, did you read it?"

"Yeah, I did."

"And?"

"I don't know. He didn't really say very much, did he?"

"No, he didn't. And what he did say, just seemed..."

"Stilted?"

"Like he's trying not to say anything by saying a bunch of...nothing."

"Yep, that's sort of the sense I get, too. That and that he..."

"He what? Sounds like he's saying good-bye?"

"I didn't say that, Buffy. I don't think he's...I don't know. I mean he says he'd be with you if he could, but at the end he talks about wishing he could turn back the clock and that he'll cherish you always. It just sounds..."

"Like he doesn't expect to come back?" Buffy asked, softly.

"No, Buffy. I don't think...I think it's more like he's being very cautious with his words. Very, very cautious."

Willow heard Buffy sniffle, and her heart ached for her friend.

"Let me ask you this. When he was there with you, before he left, did he act like he sounds in the email?"

Buffy thought about it for a moment. "No, Willow, he didn't. In fact, we were closer than we'd been since he left. We slept together; I don't mean in that way, I mean I was sick, but just in the nice, comfy way. When he told me he was planning on going, William made sure to try to assure me it was for both our sakes, and said that he..." Buffy hesitated.

"Loved you? Aww!"

Buffy thought about if for a few moments, wracking her brain to remember the words.

"No. Actually, he didn't say that to me, I mean with everything else he was saying and doing, I took all his words to mean that, of course."

"Of course," Willow echoed.

"But he hasn't said it. I don't think he's said those words to me since he's left, Buffy said, with a small laugh. “Ironic, isn't it, Willow? Years ago, I'd cringe whenever Spike would tell me that he loved me; as if coming out of his mouth, those words were something dirty and disgusting. Now, I would give anything, to hear him say those three little words again.”

"Oh Buffy, he still loves you. You have to know that!"

"Does he? I don't know. It sounds like he's trying not to, or at the very least, keep me at arms length."

"Sounds like...a little. Maybe," Willow said, hedging. "Not that it means he doesn't love you. Maybe he just doesn't want you to have any..." Willow stopped, realizing where she was leading.

"Hope?" Buffy finished for her, her voice flat. "He doesn't want me to have any hope, because he doesn't believe he deserves to have any. God, Willow..."

"We don’t know that, Buffy! We’re just conjecturing here, right? No need to be in all worry-girl mode, yet, right? Really, he didn’t even say that much."

But what he’d not said spoke loud and clear to her.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“So, how was Thanksgiving Day...?”

Buffy chatted with Willow for another ten minutes. She found out that Willow’s parents had been there until this morning, laughed at the folly of their restaurant fiasco in Bristol, and enjoyed hearing about their trip to Stonehenge, and other general news. She asked about Giles, but Willow said she hadn’t seen him for over four months, but that Kennedy was due to go into the Council in the next couple of weeks, and that maybe she’d go along. Willow had talked to Xander earlier in the day, and said he and his family were doing fine; spending the holidays at home, with some of Angela’s cousins coming by later.

The phone call ended on an upbeat note, Buffy being glad she called if only to hear Willow’s voice and to hear all that was happening in her world. No matter what happened with William, she didn’t want to go back to having no contact with her friends, again.

Willow suggested waiting a few days to respond to the email, and Buffy had agreed it might be a good idea to give her more time to respond. However, after tossing and turning until three in the morning, she felt she had as good a response as she was likely to have in another couple of days. Not only that, until she got it down, she was doubted she’d find that elusive sleep.

She made herself a cup of tea, and turned on the computer.

November 28, 2009
Friday
3:00am

Dear William,

I’ve been thinking about last year all day, too. Not just the day, but all the days.

You said that you were glad I let you help me in the kitchen last year. How do you think it makes me feel now to know that, over something infinitely more important than a meal, you won’t let me help you?

We can’t turn back the hands of time, William.

I know that now.

We can’t freeze time, or go back to when we were innocents. When I was first called to be the slayer, all I wanted was to be able to go back and be the girl I once was; someone free to do what she wanted, grow up to be whoever she dreamed of becoming. Now I see if that had happened, although I might have been living an ordinary life in ignorant bliss, a lot of people would've died, if I hadn’t been there at that particular time and place to save them. You can say the same thing, and on an even grander scale!

Of course, I regret the bad things that happened; the losses, and pain that being the slayer, unavoidably brought into my life and to those around me. But I can’t regret the unexpected good and love I experienced, or the moments of wonder and transcendence that came along with my calling, too.

More importantly, I wouldn’t have had met the people who are most important to me in this world - Dawn, Willow, Xander, Giles, and you - most of all, you!

I can’t deny who I was then; it’s still a part of who I am now. Even if I’m not active, or the only one anymore, I’m still a slayer. For five years I tried to forget that part of my life by becoming something else. (Let’s forget the fact, that I was living in the house willed to me by my deceased, vampire lover. How’s that for being denial-girl?) Then when you miraculously came back, and didn’t remember who you’d been, I was all too happy to still deny what I was. Now we’re both living with the consequences of that decision.

And because of this, I’m trying hard to be understanding of your need to work out whatever it is that you feel you can only work out alone, but I think I’m failing.

All I know is that I miss you and love you, and want you here - with me.

I believe in you, William. Please don't give up on us.

Write back soon.

Love,

Elizabeth

P.S. I’m glad your living arrangements are much better than an awful basement, and am definitely glad that you’re not fighting demons anymore. There are enough slayers in the world now to do that.

END CHAPTER 179