Our journey home was quiet and content; me, drifting along the pathway in a dream-like daze, whilst William maintained steady pace and conversation, darting furtive glances at me, and then each time, looking away with a shy smile. This token of his happiness, combined with how happy his heartfelt, poetic words had just made me, brought me to the conclusion that, despite any unnecessary drama, tonight had been utterly perfect.
And yet, as we reached his front door, I still felt a vague heaviness in my heart, which somewhat marred the perfection. My previously genuine smile became forced, as we exchanged standard polite greetings with Mrs. Payne, who welcomed us warmly- as I'd apparently managed to thaw her previously icy exterior. But even the thought of such triumph didn't soothe the dull ache in my chest. And it was a pain which got progressively worse- especially when I watched William greet Anne, gently embracing her fragile form. The sincere smile Anne bestowed upon me, despite her clear decline in health, made me feel as if someone had carved a hole in my heart. But I tried my best to ignore it. I similarly tried to ignore the impending nature of my mission, which was becoming harder and harder to face every day. So, instead, I focused on the world around me, rather than the demands of the real world I lived in.
Almost to make these matters more bearable, I was led back into the pattern of easy conversation; when Anne was escorted up the staircase, making her way to bed, William politely, yet adamantly insisted that I join him in the living room for "a cup of cocoa".
"Huh?"
"A cup of... gosh, have you honestly never had a cup of cocoa?" he asked, with a genuinely shocked expression.
"Nope, 'fraid not. Uh, is that some sort of sin round here?" I questioned with mock innocence. He grinned wryly.
"I daresay it may well be. But never fear! Tonight, Elizabeth, you will be fully redeemed!" he proclaimed dramatically, before whizzing out of the room before I had the chance to reply. Instead, I simply spluttered with laughter, awestruck by his immense enthusiasm for everything. Within a few minutes, William returned, carrying two steaming mugs of... hot chocolate!
Well, duh.
As he handed me my cup, I took a seat upon the generous sofa with a sheepish expression, blowing gently upon the delicious, chocolatey beverage that I'd definitely had before. In fact, I distinctly remembered someone else who had a pretty fond taste for it himself...
"Have you got any of those little marshmallows?"
As I expected, my quoted question was met with an expression of childlike glee. "Goodness, I wish we had! Marshmallows truly are delightful. Would you like me to purchase some for you? Tomorrow, perhaps?"
"Oh no, it's cool," I laughed, taking a relishing sip of my drink. "I was just wondering... although, this 'cocoa' of yours is pretty damn fine by itself, anyhow!"
"I'm thoroughly glad you like it," William replied, beaming, before gulping down the rest of his hot chocolate with surprising speed. I took a few hurried sips, in a meager attempt to keep up. "Now, I was just wondering if... um, well, if... if you'd like to hear some of my favourite poetry, b-by any chance?" William stuttered, fiddling with the handle on his cup. I placed my own cup down on the nearby table, before rising to my feet to join him; both my expression and voice soft.
"I'd love to, William."
"Why, yes, I suppose it would be beneficial towards your lessons-"
"No, that's not the reason," I smiled, absent-mindedly pushing a stray curl out of his eyes, which were blinking more and more rapidly as the space between us lessened. "I'm interested in you. If these poems mean so much to you, I'm sure they'll end up meaning something to me too. If I can understand half the words, that is," I finished my impassioned statement with a wink, trying to steer clear of dangerous, mushy seriousness.
William looked utterly thrilled, which sparked guilt in me, for some reason. "Well, in that case... I will return momentarily!"
Of course, he fulfilled his promise, and came back within minutes, arms laden with a heavy, leather-bound book. I watched curiously as he sat beside me, before opening the book with a flourish. He began flicking through the pages, yet paused as the clock began chiming. 11 o'clock. He glanced towards the ticking ornament, before fixing his gaze upon me worriedly.
"Would you prefer to retire to bed for the night, Elizabeth? Of course, I hardly expect you to return back to your own accommodation at this hour - the guest room is fully prepared!"
"Are you sure it's alright for me to stay?"
"Why, of course!" William answered, as if it was obvious. "Unless you are somewhat uncomfortable with that prospect, in which case, I profusely apologize, and am willing to accompany you-"
"No no, I am completely comfortable, don't you worry!" I chuckled. "But in that case, I don't reckon I'm ready for bed just yet. Although," I found myself yawning mid-sentence, "I am kinda shattered... what with the whole 'grrrrr!' charade in the tavern earlier. Watching people beat other people up is tiring work, ya know," I stated matter-of-factly, smiling when William blushed in response.
"Again, I am so sorry that you had to witness such a..." he paused, his face holding a certain degree of confusion, followed by reluctant acceptance. "A 'grrrrr!' charade, as you say."
I burst out laughing. "Please, William... please, just promise me that you will say that to me every single day."
"You should be so lucky!" he scoffed, eyes glittering with mirth.
"Yeah, well... a nice compensation, for now, would be for you to read to me," I glanced up at him, fluttering my eyelashes and curling my lips into a practiced pout. "Pretty please?"
William chuckled. "Of course, if you wish so. What would you like to hear?"
"Anything," I purred sleepily, absent-mindedly leaning against his shoulder. After exploring the first few pages, he selected a poem, and began to read. I closed my eyes, basking in the warm, velvety tones of his voice, letting the words wash over me like a glimmering ocean tide.
"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!"
A look of hurt flashes across Spike's face, and I instantly regret my blunt, blurted lie. It's almost like my natural instinct is to beat him down, severing any bonds last night forged between us. Simply because, the fact that last night even happened is all kinds of wrong. Although, telling him that he was just "convenient" wasn't exactly right, either...
But regardless, the brief vulnerability I saw in his face is quickly erased by a characteristic scowl. To be honest, the vulnerability I thought I glimpsed probably wasn't even there in the first place. Vampires don't have feelings. Because, surely, feelings require being alive... whilst vampires, well, they're dead inside.
"So, what now?" He leaps fluidly to his feet, reaching for the black jeans which were violently... discarded, the night before. "You go back to treating me like dirt 'til the next time you get an itch you can't scratch? Well, forget it." I raise a disgusted eyebrow at the crudeness of his words, yet find my eyes unwillingly drifting downwards, powerless to resist admiring every manly, muscular, mouthwatering inch of his body - before it's cruelly concealed from my view. However, my quick, mental reminder that the body I'm ogling contains a disgusting, evil, soulless thing makes me hastily avert my eyes. And right on cue, Spike slips into his standard pair of tight, colourless jeans, sensually thrusting his hips as he does so- in an annoyingly hypnotizing fashion.
Screw you, Spike.
"Last night changed things," he concludes confidently, fastening his silver belt with a sneer. "I'm done being your whipping boy."
"Nothing's changed, you idiot," I shoot back scornfully. "It was a mistake, that's all! A mistake."
"Bollocks! It was a bloody revelation," he growls, advancing towards me with a predatory gleam in his eyes, lips curled into a suggestive smirk, jeans hanging low on his hips, exposing more toned, touchable flesh than necessary. Not that I'm complaining. Although, outwardly, I am- due to the highly necessary act of... well, acting.
"You can act as high and mighty as you like... but I know where you live now, Slayer." Oh God. He's edging closer and closer towards me now, brazen confidence etched in the way he's walking, the way he's talking, and... the way he's looking at me. "I've tasted it."
Yeah... it's definitely just the cocky strut, huskily whispered words and predatory, smouldering stare which has reduced me to a puddle of melted, Buffy flavoured jelly. Mhm, there is no other reason what-so-ever. Well, apart from maybe the tongue which curls suggestively round his teeth, teasingly reminding me of the things that tongue can do. That, as well as the tousled, bleach-blonde bed hair, the sleep-softened, studying eyes, and the smirking lips which I already crave the taste of...
"Get a grip! Like you're god's gift," I snarl, attempting to extinguish misbehaving thoughts with a disgusted expression and an angry tone, whilst tearing my gaze away from the Godly body which contradicts my every word. Spike, however, appears oblivious to the raging battle inside my head.
"Hardly!" he chuckles, his face mere inches from mine. I suppress a shiver as I feel his fingers gently skim my shoulder. Irresistibly, he bites his lip, leaning in closer. I shut my eyes, his nearness causing my adamant anger to dangerously leak away, almost giving up my desperate fight not to succumb to him. His voice lowers to a rough, seductive whisper. "Wouldn't be nearly as interesting, would it?"
He's going to kiss me.
And despite every fiber of my being which begs him to, I'm going to have to push him away.
Because that's the way it is. How it's supposed to be.
"No!" As he leans in further, I give him a violent shove. "Let me go!" My attempts to flee towards the door are hindered by the half-naked subject of both my fantasies and greatest fears, who grabs me roughly round the shoulders, stilling my movements with strong, muscular arms - a strength which I so relished last night. A fresh wave of revulsion overcomes me, as I remember the things I let this creature of darkness do to me, mere hours ago. Although, what disgusts me most is the fact that I liked it; that now I knew what it was truly like to dance dangerously on the dark side, I would never again wish to venture out into the light.
"I may be dirt, but you're the one who likes to roll in it, Slayer," he growls, breathing harshly- despite it not being an undead necessity. His scowl curls up into a crooked, smug smile. "You never had it so good as me. Never-"
"God, you're bent!" I interrupt furiously, shoving him off me, not wanting to hear the shameful truth of his words. The fact alone that last night had been the most intense, intoxicating, incredible night of my existence is enough to convince me that my entire life has been built on lies. Why? Why am I born the Slayer, only to be left swooning by the seductive skills of a vampire- one, who is definitely not Angel, and has definitely tried to kill me on more than one occasion. Why did it have to be him? How can a demon whom I harbor no feelings for make me feel for the first time in... God knows how long. In fact, I don't think my body has been left reeling, craving and wanting to this extent... ever.
I cradle my head in my hands, attempting to still the sudden rush of wrong, dangerous thoughts.
"Yeah, and it made you scream, didn't it?" Spike brashly encapsulates these thoughts; tongue curling, abs flexing, eyes burning with mirth and desire...
I woke up with a sudden jolt, breathing heavily. Shakily rising to my feet, I ignored my pounding heart, racing mind and perspiring skin, as my eyes darted around the dark, unfamiliar surroundings, attempting to readjust to the real world which came flooding back with harsh resonance. With a relieved smile, I recognized the winding staircase opposite me. The bejeweled chandelier, the ornate wooden table, an array of potted plants, paintings, ornaments... all were extravagant elements of this room which had previously intrigued and intimidated me, yet now proved to be a familiar comfort. Recognition washed over me like a warm, refreshing wave. I was still at the Pratt's. I was still in London. London, 1880.
Okay, Buffy, breathe. It was just a dream, that's all. Only a dream...
But, although I kept telling myself that what I'd just experienced was merely a figment of my imagination, I felt shaken by the eerie familiarity of the scene which had unconsciously played out in my head. Like... I'd been there before.
A familiar dream, from an unfamiliar world.
A soft, muffled moan caught my swift attention, making me jump- my senses suddenly heightened by the ripping return to reality. I whipped round to face the intruder, hand instinctively reaching for my knife, half-expecting to see an animalistic demon lunging at me with bared fangs. However, my tensed shoulders sagged with relief, and my practiced, steely 'Slayer' expression melted into a genuine smile. In stark contrast to my earlier prediction, there was no malicious monster in sight. Instead, I found William curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. I couldn't help uttering an audible 'awww' at the sight. As I tip-toed closer, a growing grin playing on my lips, I couldn't help but think back to the dream I'd been absorbed in only moments ago.
He seriously underwent some insane transformation.
I mean, it's pretty damn hard to believe that the devilish subject of all my forbidden, sexual fantasies was once this innocent, sleeping angel...
With the vision of a shirtless, smirking Spike crystal clear in my mind, I scrutinized his contrasting mirror image more closely. William's head was slumped, dark golden curls falling into his eyes- which were closed, resulting in the dark curve of eyelashes upon milky cheek. His glasses had fallen halfway down his nose, and I gently removed them, daring to softly stroke his cheek as I did so, due to a sudden, unexplained urge. His lips were slightly parted, and he was breathing steadily, sometimes making adorable little grunting sounds, accompanied by the occasional twitch and fidget. I also fondly noticed the poetry book clasped protectively to his chest with one hand, which led me to realize that we both must have fallen asleep during our reading session. The placement of his other arm- outstretched across the adjacent side of the sofa- widened my smile further; he must have unconsciously put his arm around me as we slept, whilst my head rested comfortably upon his shoulder.
Just like a normal, human couple.
I sighed in contentment, plonking myself down on the sofa, and nestling back onto my William-shaped pillow. But as I shut my eyes, hoping to succumb to a dreamless sleep, my mind suddenly churned.
Wait... couple? What am I even saying?!
My eyes snapped open, and I jumped away violently, as if the sleeping male before me had burst into flames.
Okay, rewind. That word was never spoken.
It's a dangerous word. Equivalent to bombs.
However, my reaction was slightly exaggerated, despite my worrying choice of vocabulary, and I sheepishly edged back towards him, praying I hadn't woken him up. Luckily, he simply shifted slightly, emitting a low, sleepy groan, before again, becoming completely still. I inwardly fist-punched the air.
But then, something else happened. Something which would've fit right into a whole world of wrong.
"Elizabeth..."
I froze.
Okay, it wasn't like it was shouted from the rooftops or anything - I mean, it was nothing more than a muffled, unconscious murmur. But regardless, I still heard my name.
My instant panic quickly transformed into amusement, followed by coy curiousity. As he whispered my name again, I watched him closely. He kept shifting slightly in his sleep; occasionally turning his head, arching his back or flexing his legs. His facial expression was unreadable, but it was obvious that whatever he was dreaming about wasn't unpleasant. In fact...
Oh God. Did he seriously just bite his lip?
I felt heat begin to pool between my thighs, as the combination of the late hour, the probing memory of my earlier dream and the moaning, slumbering poet before me hit me like an explosion of unbridled lust.
"Oh, Elizabeth..."
The deep, provocative purr of his voice was my undoing. Was William having a... a naughty dream about me? The idea in itself was bordering on ridiculous. Because, despite the fact that after being turned, he became a sultry, roguish sex god, I'd always mentally separated these two versions of William- regarding Spike as his alter ego, his polar opposite. I never once thought that Spike was a part of him, and always was.
I wonder what it would be like to screw him...
After inwardly gasping at my inappropriate bluntness, I quickly blamed my sleep-addled brain. And the fact that I was faced with a highly confusing situation: being sent to kill a human being with a heart of gold, who ironically appears to be the complete opposite of his future vampire self - who I happen to have sexed it up with. A lot. And now, here he is, deep in slumber, calling my name. Well, not my name-name, but the name he thinks is my name. Which definitely counts for something, right? But still, it's kinda weird to think that the vamp who cockily claims that he 'made me scream'- which, to be fair, he did... multiple times- was once caught in a fluster if a girl kissed him on the cheek.
And it's even weirder to think that I, sat on the opposite end of the sofa to him, at 4 o'clock in the morning, am fantasizing about the idea of... what?
Kissing him on the lips this time, and seeing just how flustered that makes him?
Pouncing on him like the brazen seductress I'm pretending to be, and giving his hot, tight, little Virgin body the shock of its life?
Seeing if sleeping with William is the same as sleeping with Spike?
Although, damn it, they're the same guy! The same, but so very, very different...
William had become silent and still, and I'd found myself nearing the dangerous territory of a Buffy-rant. So, I decided that it was near enough time to go to sleep. I'd just have to think about everything properly tomorrow, when I was actually conscious enough to make any logical sense. Besides, any of these thoughts I was having were highly icky and inappropriate and... wrong. Yup, that's what I'd just have to keep telling myself. And... I'll tell myself that I am the Slayer, and I have been sent on a mission- which must be fulfilled before these feelings get out of hand. Anyhow, in the mean time, Slayers should certainly not be fantasizing about sex with vampires.
Although, right now, he isn't a vampire. He has a heartbeat.