Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

Forward to Time Past	By : UnbridledBrunette Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 3754 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter Eight

Two hours later, Buffy was hovering neared the doorway of the master bedroom. Dr. Gull had finished his examination and prescribed his pills and now he was making ready to leave, yet although the worst of Anne�s sick spell had now passed, Buffy could not bring herself to relax. She could tell by his expression that William felt the same. Even though neither of them dared to voice it aloud, both of them were dreadfully afraid that Anne might take pneumonia after her night at the theater. This fear was sharpened by the doctor�s insistence that it was foolish for Anne to be �out in the night air� when already she was �in poor constitution�. By then Anne�s coughing spell was over and she was resting, a little pale and weak but basically all right. However, Dr. Gull insisted that the consequences of their outing might not just be tonight. The violent coughing that accompanied her illness was weakening to her lungs and tonight�s bout was by far the worst yet. If they continued on this fashion, he averred, they would greatly shorten the time Anne had left.

Now the doctor snapped shut his small black case and motioned William to follow him to the hallway. To Buffy, he said nothing nor gave any acknowledgement of her presence as he passed by her. She was, after all, only a woman. A servant. It was not fitting that he should notice her. Buffy wasn�t crushed by this. She waited until both men had exited the room and then dropped, exhausted, into a small chair beside the bed. The physical and emotional stress of the late evening had been overwhelming, and now that the crisis had passed and Anne was resting comfortably, Buffy realized just what a toll it took on her own body. Her feet and back ached so much she knew that sleep would be elusive even despite her fatigue. Of course, this was assuming that she got the opportunity to sleep. It was already half-past three o�clock.

Through the half-opened doorway drifted a sound of masculine voices, one of them very loud and obviously angry. Buffy sighed. Having been routed out of his bed in the middle of the night had put Dr. Gull into a poor temper, and he had already scolded them roundly for having been so thoughtless as to let Anne out into the cold weather. Apparently, he wasn�t quite done yet and being the man of the house, William definitely bore the brunt of the criticism. It seemed rather unfair, considering the fact that of the three of them William was the only one who had been against the night out. He had not seemed of a mind to explain this during the first telling off, so Buffy had spoken up on his behalf. The doctor did not feel that this was a sufficient excuse. He had maintained (still rather loudly) that William was head of the household and should be more than capable of keeping two women adequately in hand.

Now Buffy kept waiting for William to lose his temper at this new round of abuse. If any doctor of Joyce�s had ever spoken to her that way she would have shown him the door as well as the rough side of her tongue. And she knew he must have a limit to his patience; Spike�s hair-trigger temper could not have cropped up out of nowhere. However, apparently it had taken a vacation because he merely agreed with the doctor�s observations and thanked him�thanked him!�for coming at so late an hour.

After a few minutes� absence (during which he led the doctor to his coach), William reappeared in the open doorway. He was a sharp contrast to the immaculately groomed gentleman of just a few hours before. Then every hair was in place, every button fastened, every crease crisply starched. Now he looked as though a truck had hit him. His eyes were bloodshot and circled by bluish-black rings, and his hair was a wild tumble of curls. His spectacles had been left at points unknown and without them Buffy could see his eyes clearly for the first time. He bore much more of a resemblance to Spike than she had first imagined.

He moved into the room awkwardly, keeping close to the wall as though afraid that close contact might be contaminating. Buffy remembered how he had staggered backwards away from her in the parlor and her cheeks colored with embarrassment. When the doctor was there and they were focusing all their energies on making Anne well it was all right; there had not been time to notice the unease between them. But now Anne was asleep and they were virtually alone�and it all came back tenfold.

�My mother�is she all right?� His voice was hoarse from fatigue.

�She�s asleep,� Buffy told him. Then immediately felt stupid for it. He could see for himself that she was asleep. She rushed to add, �Her breathing is much better, though. Not so much with the wheezing.�

He nodded.

�I�ll stay with her for the rest of the night, though. You know�just to be sure everything is okay.�

�That isn�t necessary. I shall stay with her; you may go take your rest.�

�Considering the fact that you look and sound like you�re about to drop out from fatigue, I�m going to vote �no� on that idea. Anyway, I�m the nursemaid�and all of this is my fault, anyway. I�ll stay with her. It�s my responsibility.�

�Why would you say such a thing?� he asked. And she thought how strangely he spoke to her: always with perfect grammar in the most quiet, cramped diction. As though he thought she would be grading him on it. He never spoke that way to anyone else. Spike never spoke that way at all.

�Well, for one thing you�re paying me��

�No�� He shook his head as if to gather scattered thoughts. �I�m sorry, I�m afraid I wasn�t clear. You misunderstood the question. What I meant to say was: Why would you think Mother�s illness is your fault?�

She looked down at her bandaged hand, slightly ashamed. She didn�t want to spell it out for him, but she knew he would make the connection eventually anyway.

�I was the one who pushed for you to take her to the play. And while I don�t buy the doctor�s claim that night air can kill you, obviously something at the playhouse aggravated her condition, because all of this started after we got home. Since I�m the one who insisted she go�that makes it my fault.�

He looked at her thoughtfully. �I�m afraid I still don�t see an association.�

Am I supposed to draw you a picture? Buffy wondered. She opened her mouth to clarify but he spoke instead.

�My mother has consumption, a disease of the lungs that is progressive. These�episodes�will grow more frequent as her illness advances; the doctor told us that at the first. Nothing you did or could do will change that. Her sick spells are not your fault.�

�Yeah. But I shouldn�t have told you to take her out. That made it worse. Maybe the cold air��

�But don�t you see, Miss Summers? You were right.�

�I was?� she asked blankly.

�Yes! You told me that it was better to allow her to live the time she has left, rather than wrapping her in cotton wool. Hobbling her, in a sense. And making her miserable. Everything you said was�� He paused then, his face relaxing into a smile that Buffy knew was not meant for her. He was thinking of something else, though she had no idea what. Or whom.

�What?�

�Did you not note her expression when the play started? She looked so�happy.�

�So then this��Buffy motioned to Anne�s sleeping form��was worth it? Just to see her happy for two hours?� She didn't ask him this because she thought differently; she merely wanted some reassurance that her decisions weren�t wrong, or harmful to the woman who had been so kind to her.

He was standing opposite her, facing her, but presently he turned slightly so that his left shoulder was out and his head turned in profile. Yet despite this, his stance seemed anything but aloof and she knew this time that the small smile on his lips was for her�even if he did not want her to see it.

�Yes,� he said quietly. �I rather think that it was.�

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The late night took its toll on them all and as a result, breakfast was served rather late the following morning. Buffy had not thought Anne would be well enough to take her meal in the dining room, but Anne insisted on it. She still looked a little wan but she had rested well after the doctor visit and assured Buffy she felt fine.

Oddly enough, William seemed to have faired far worse in the ordeal than his mother, but perhaps this was because she slept, as he had not. Nothing Buffy had said early that morning would persuade him to let her watch over Anne, so eventually she had given up and gone to bed. William had apparently spent a rather uncomfortable few hours trying to nap on a chair. The moment Buffy arrived in Anne�s room that morning he had left. Not to sleep but to change his clothes and freshen up. Both women had suggested he try to catch up on the sleep he had missed, but he refused to admit he needed this, and arrived in the dining room just after they did. The coffee had already been served, the food wheeled out on a little wooden cart, when he sat down across the table from Buffy.

�Are you all right, dear?� Anne�s question mirrored the one he had just asked her. Her brow was drawn with worry, but William smiled at her reassuringly.

�Quite all right, Mother. Only a little tired. I�m sure I shall perk up after a bit of breakfast.� He looked like a corpse someone had forgotten to bury. Though now as immaculately dressed and groomed as ever, his weary, frayed look of the night before remained. He was probably somewhere around his late twenties, but this morning he looked much older. When the footman displayed all the delicacies offered for breakfast, he only shook his head and asked for a little toast and some tea.

Buffy tried to follow suit. The etiquette guide Anne had given her said that women should appear utterly without appetite when in the presence of men and should never eat more than a man. However, after only picking at meals for the past two days she was starving, and all the etiquette in the world couldn�t have turned her from the crisp rashers of bacon, the poached eggs and grilled tomatoes. Still, she asked for only half the amount she actually wanted and managed not to cram it all down her throat at one time when the footman put it on her plate. She half-listened to William and Anne�s conversation about the upcoming holidays as she tried to nibble elegantly.

William�s voice was still a little hoarse and Buffy felt an unexpected wave of pity for him. Aside from the weariness of which she still felt guiltily responsible, he seemed so depressed this morning. Small wonder, that. His mother had a terminal illness; essentially, she was dying a little every minute. And he was destined to die sometime in the next twelve month period so that a demon with poor fashion sense could take up residence in his corpse. Things weren�t exactly coming up roses for the guy; of course she�d feel pity for him. That was all. Just pity.

As if sensing her thoughts, William suddenly turned his eyes toward Buffy. He caught her staring at him and blushed a little bit, even though she looked away almost immediately.

�Forgive me, Miss Summers,� he said awkwardly. �I forgot to inquire about your hand this morning. Does it still pain you?�

�No. The doctor bandaged it really good. I�m�I�m cool,� she answered, still flustered at being caught staring.

But Anne and William seemed puzzled with her.

�Would you like to sit nearer to the fire, Elizabeth?� Anne asked finally.

Buffy stared at her blankly. �Huh?�

�You said you were cool, so I thought��

�Oh.� Buffy laughed. �Oh! No�not cool like cold. I mean cool like �fine� or �all right�. It�s an American expression,� she added lamely.

�How very odd!� Anne looked at her son curiously. �You read books on America, William. Did you know that �cool� is used in such a way there?�

He shook his head and Buffy realized she had put her foot in it now. �Oh, well. It probably wouldn�t be in books. It�s not refined speech or anything�more like�uh�slang. So I don�t think people would write it down.�

�Slang!� Horrified, Anne dropped her fork beside her plate. �Oh, Elizabeth! You mustn�t talk slang! You�re a lady��

�Um, yeah. I know that. But it�s like�ladylike slang over there. It�s not bad.� She squirmed in her chair uneasily.

Anne started to say something else, but William interjected on Buffy�s behalf. �Now, Mother, you cannot judge someone�s behavior if they are from another country. We might easily consider the edicts of decorum nothing more than a comprisal of the idiosyncrasies of each individual culture. As such, good etiquette would be a very subjective thing. What is improper here might be considered perfectly all right in America�and vice versa.�

Though she hadn�t the faintest idea what he had just said, Buffy realized William was coming to her defense and she flashed him a grateful smile. �Uh, sure. I mean yeah�that�s totally it,� she agreed. �But if talking like that is a British social no-no then I�ll tried to hold back. I mean�just �cause good manners are subjective doesn�t mean I shouldn�t try to follow the rules as long as I�m here. Right?�

Anne nodded, evidently much relieved to hear Buffy would at least attempt to improve her grammar. But William frowned.

�I hardly think that would be in order. You are an American; I see no need to fault you for speaking as such.�

She had no idea what he was getting at.

�Oh, I don�t mind. As kind as Anne�both of you�have been I would hate to think that my kooky American-speak caused you any embarrassment.�

William seemed very interested in his teacup all of a sudden; he was staring at the hand-painted rose pattern on the china intently. The spectacles were back in place, so she couldn�t really see his eyes. But if the dark blush staining his cheeks was any indication, whatever he was about to tell her was being divulged with the utmost difficulty.

�I think the way you speak is utterly charming,� he said finally. His voice was so soft that had she not been paying such close attention she might not have heard him at all. And when she did hear him, she had no idea how to respond.

After an awkward moment of silence William cleared his throat and added, �Oh and I meant to tell you yesterday, Mother. I have some business to attend to today and so I will be gone most of the forenoon.�

�Oh, William!� Anne exclaimed (while Buffy sat back, relieved the moment of discomfort was over). �You surely cannot attend to business this morning! Why you look tired to death.� She prodded Buffy�s leg under the table with her foot. �Doesn�t he, Elizabeth?�

�I�ve seen him look deader.� The words slipped out before Buffy could think about how it would sound to them.

William flushed, perhaps not unduly offended by this statement. He tossed his napkin onto his plate. �Yes. Well, on that note��

If looks could kill, the glare Anne shot Buffy would have slain her in an instant. She reached out to touch her son�s hand. �William, surely you don�t mean to leave yet? You haven�t touched your breakfast.�

�It�s all right, Mother. I shall be back in time for luncheon.� He leaned to kiss Anne on the cheek then favored Buffy with a short jerk of the head. �Miss Summers.�

Anne waited until he had left the room then she too pushed back her chair. �Oh, honestly, Elizabeth!� she said. �What has gotten into you lately? You�ve been such a sweet girl and then all of a sudden this tactlessness��

�I didn�t mean it that way��

�Then what way did you mean it I would like to know?�

Buffy couldn�t answer that question, because she had seen William look deader. But only once he was dead.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Anne left the dining room in something of a huff after that. Buffy started to follow her to the parlor but suddenly found herself making a ninety-degree turn down the hallway and into the foyer. Just as she thought, William was still there waiting for the coachman to bring the carriage around. He was standing to one side of the door, shrugging into his greatcoat. Her approach seemed to startle him.

�Miss Summers, is something wrong? Is Mother�?�

�She�s fine. I just...I wanted to talk to you. You know�before you left.�

�Ah, I see.� He was buttoning his coat but Buffy could tell by the amount of time he was spending on it that what he was really doing was avoiding her gaze.

�What�um�what was it you wished to say?�

�I wanted to�to apologize for what I said earlier. I didn�t mean it that way, I just�I was distracted. I didn�t know what I was saying. Just more of the kooky American-speak, I guess,� she added lightly. But he didn�t return her smile.

�Don�t concern yourself, it was nothing.� He started to turn away but Buffy put a hand on his arm.

�It�s not all right if I hurt your feelings. I didn�t mean to. I mean�I wouldn�t want to�� She could feel the muscles in his arm twitching beneath her fingers, could see the way his shoulders rose as he tensed at the contact. He inclined his head, staring with something akin to shock at her hand on his sleeve, but he didn�t draw away and she didn�t remove it. It seemed a long time until he answered.

�Oh, no....I�it�s all right,� he breathed. �That is to say��

The front door opened then and he leapt away from her with a speed worthy of his vampire doppelganger. Both of them turned to the intruder to find that it was Matthew, the head groom and coachman, come to say that the carriage was waiting at the block if Master William was ready for it.

William�s face was flaming red; Buffy thought with bewilderment that it looked more as though she had grabbed a handful of his ass rather than barely touched his sleeve. He thanked the coachmen then turned back to Buffy. Rather, he turned back in the direction of Buffy. His eyes, pretty much, were focused on anything but.

�I�m sorry. I�m afraid I must�� His voice trailed away.

Buffy nodded in assent (odd that he should wait for this) and William pulled open the door, letting in a blast of cold air. He glanced back at her, touched a hand to the brim of his hat, and then stepped into the winter morning.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~
- 7
- 8
- 9
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Forward to Time Past