Chapter 6

Buffy wandered listlessly through the apartment for the rest of the day. She scrubbed her kitchen until it sparkled. She watched crappy soap operas, but avoided Passions. She rolled her eyes at Oprah, and she attempted to read a book. She thought about calling Giles.

William stayed in his room, silent, scribbling away. Buffy brought him lunch, and he acknowledged her with a polite nod and a "thank you". She felt bad for avoiding him all day, feeling that he would probably want her company. But it was hard. She should really call Giles.

Angel called once to make sure that William wasn't too much of a handful, and to ask her how she was handling everything. She assured him that she was fine, William was adjusting, and that she didn't need anything. Angel told her she should call Giles.

But Giles wasn't exactly pleased with her. They were on speaking terms, but their relationship never fully recovered. The actual miles between them were easier to cross than the emotional distance. It was hard to completely forgive what she considered to betrayal, harder still to forget about it and move on. He attempted to comfort her over losing Spike, but the words were hollow, and somehow, it hurt more than if he had done nothing at all.

She also had to call Willow and Xander, but not now. She didn't feel like dealing with them. And they would want to come over and see him, and the fewer people gawking at him, the better. They would want to ask her questions, demand to know what she was thinking, as if they couldn't understand. As if she was expected to learn from their mistakes.

It was frightening how easy it was to completely drift away from them. True, they hadn't been as close as they once were the past few years, but now they barely talked at all. They were all busy piecing their lives back together, one dangerous shard at a time. Buffy wondered if she would have been so foolish, so desperate as to try to bring Spike back if she had more support from them.

Despite her newly formed acquaintances with Angel's friends, her reformed friendship with Angel, the constant presence of Dawn, and the contact with her coworkers, Buffy was extremely lonely. Being a slayer was a lonely job, by definition, but she wasn't the slayer anymore.  She didn't know that simply living a normal life was also a lonely job. So what had she done? Got horribly drunk and depressed and made the latest in a long line of mistakes.

And the result of that mistake was just a few feet from her; shy, skittish, alone, and silent. As the afternoon rolled into evening, she gave up. There was no reason for her to sulk in the living room, huddled on the couch around a bowl of popcorn, morosely watching the news as her thoughts jumped around the past problems and current problems and stupid mistakes and new friends and old friends.

"William?" Buffy called as she opened the door. "You doing ok in here?"

"Yes, I'm good."

"Are you feeling strong enough to get out of bed?"

"I…I believe so. Why?"

"I thought I could cook us dinner? Maybe we can eat at the table—if you're feeling up to it, that is."

"Oh, well, that would be very nice. Thank you. But, I fear I'm not dressed properly for dinner."

"Oh, of course. Um, I think I might have something for you to wear. Will you need help, you know, getting dressed?"

William's face turned bright red. "No, no," he stumbled, "I think I can manage quite well, thank you."

Buffy smiled, then rifled through the plastic bags in the hall closet that Angel and given her when she picked up William. She triumphantly found a pair of pants and a button shirt that looked like it would fit him.

"Go ahead and take your time getting dressed," Buffy said as she handed the bundle to him. "It'll take me awhile to make dinner."

"I'll be right out," he promised.

Feeling better already, Buffy set about planning dinner. There just wasn't much food in the house. Well, not food she would serve to a guest at any rate. But then, wasn't Victorian food supposed to be totally nasty? Maybe even Buffy's limited culinary ability would be seen as an improvement in William's eyes. Well, she could hope at any rate.

She was viciously attacking the onions when she heard a loud crash, followed by a yelp of pain. Without giving it a second though, she ran into the bedroom, visions of blood and broken bones filling her mind. He was fragile, unlike Spike he could be broken. Buffy found him on the other side of the bed in a jumble of clothes and blankets, blinking his eyes with a rather dazed expression on his face.

"Are you ok? Did you hurt yourself? What happened?" Buffy asked as she began to untangle him.

"I believe my foot got caught in the sheet. I guess it tripped me. Do not worry, I'm fine."

Buffy pushed the rest of the sheets away, and pulled him to his feet. He attempted to protest, but she ignored him. She intently searched his body for new bruises or injuries, but she didn't find anything other than the odd scrape. She did notice, however, that his body wasn't nearly as taunt or muscled as Spike's had been. She also noticed that William was a bright purple color from his neck to the roots of his sandy hair.

"Oh, William, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you, I just wanted to make sure you're not hurt."

"It's quite alright," he said tightly, but he was completely unable to look in her eyes, and he seemed frozen.

Still apologizing, she backed out of the room and firmly shut the door. She was blushing herself, feeling stupid for over-reacting and making him so incredibly uncomfortable. She wouldn't be surprised if he chose to just stay in his room, and avoid the psycho who didn't respect his personal space.

Buffy returned to her onions, and then moved on to the potatoes. But the excitement was gone, and now it seemed more like a pointless chore. He wouldn't want to eat with her, and if he did, it would be awkward. Maybe Angel was right, maybe she was taking on more than she could chew.

Finally, the simple dinner of chicken, potatoes, and peas was completed and ready to serve. She debated over putting candles on the table, just to look nice. She finally decided to put them on the table but not to light them. A detached part of her realized that she was worrying and fretting as though this was a first date. Which was extremely silly, and probably just a reflection of her loneliness.

She knocked on his door gently, and announced that if he wanted to come out, dinner was ready.

"I'll be right out," came William's muffled reply.

Pleased, Buffy returned to the table and finished dishing up the meal. By the time he made an appearance, his plate was full, and Buffy had decided maybe she should light the candles.

"It looks lovely," William complimented.

"Thank you. I didn't know what you would like, so I just…"

He smiled and held her seat out for her, silently indicating she should sit. Buffy did so with a small smile of her own, not really surprised by the display of his manners. He looked a bit better dressed, and he was back to his usual color, and he didn't appear to upset with her.

"The candles are nice," he said, the smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I thought it would a good touch," Buffy explained.

They both tried a few bites of the meal, and Buffy was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was actually edible. Despite the fact that Buffy had successfully cooked holiday meals before, her everyday culinary abilities were still lacking. William seemed pleased with the food, and after a few small, polite bites, he really dug in. His appetite was voracious, and he didn't have any idea how hungry he was until he took his first bite of chicken.

They didn't speak until after he finished the chicken and the potatoes.

"I want to thank you for earlier."

"What?"

"For checking on me when I tripped. I made an awful ruckus, it must have frightened you."

"I was worried," Buffy admitted, confused. He had seemed so embarrassed that she didn't expect him to thank her.

"I won't be so clumsy in the future. Though, I have always been rather clumsy."

Clumsy? Must have been something he outgrew, Buffy thought. "It's ok, I think we're all a bit of a spaz at times. Plus you know, I bet things are a bit disorienting right now."

"They are. I'm having a hard time adjusting. But I think writing about it helped a great deal. I was able to sort my thoughts."

Buffy wasn't entirely surprised that William was adjusting without any major problems. Spike was always able to mold himself to his surroundings. He was very resilient, and at his core, a survivor. It was obviously a trait completely innate.

"Do you have enough food? Would you like more?"

"If it's not too much trouble. This really is quite delicious."

"Be sure to tell Dawn that," Buffy said wryly. "She's convinced that I can't boil water."

"Dawn is the young lady who was in my room this morning."

Buffy nodded. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know she would do that. I'll talk to her about it when she gets home."

"Is she your sister?"

"Yes, she's a few years younger than me. School will be out soon, so she'll be home more in the future. Do you have a sister?"

"Me? No, no, I was an only child. My father died when I was quite young. It was just me and my mother…oh god." He looked up at Buffy, stricken. "Who will take care of my mother now that I'm gone?"

Buffy placed a comforting hand on his, remembering the story Spike had told her after the incident with Wood. She knew that it was very likely that his mother was already dead. Struggling to keep her voice neutral, she assured William that his mother would be taken care of.

"You don't understand," he insisted, "she's sick. She's very sick. She's been ill for some time."

"My mom was sick too," Buffy offered softly. "I took care of her, or, I tried to. I know how you feel."

"Oh, Miss….Buffy. I'm sorry. Did she pass away?"

Buffy swallowed. "She did, but that was a few years ago."

His voice was low, and serious. "I don't know what I would have done if my mother had…She means everything to me."

"It sounds as though she's a lovely woman."

William looked up, his eyes bright. "She is. Just absolutely extraordinary. Very kind, and gentle. She has a lovely voice, and she always listens to my poetry."

"I'm sorry this happened to you, William. I truly am."

"No, don't be sorry. I discovered something this afternoon while I was writing."

"And what's that?"

"If this is real, and I'm not insane, then this is…well…glorious."

"Glorious?" Buffy asked. "I would think it's terrifying beyond words."

"Well, that too." He tilted his head slightly, and studied her. "Did you ever wish you could start over? Somewhere new?"

"Sometimes."

"That's what this is. A fresh start."

Buffy nodded. She felt that she understood perfectly. After all, isn't that exactly what William needed? When he was turned, he created a completely new persona so he could start over.

"I hope I can help you, William."

"I think you can."

They smiled at each other, and the candlelight danced and sparkled in his eyes. Buffy felt a pull towards him, some sort of connection that didn't have anything to do with the vampire that owned her heart. She thought he felt it too. But the shared moment was shattered by the telephone ringing.

He jumped and looked around wildly. "What's that?"

"Nothing, it's just the phone. Don't worry."

Buffy used her slayer speed to get the phone before it could ring again. "Hello?"

"Hi Buffy," Willow greeted casually.

"Willow! How are you? I was just thinking about calling you. What's up?"

"I'm fine. I just called to ask how you're doing."

"Oh, great. Why do you ask?"

"Well, after the other night, I wanted to make sure that you were feeling better."

"I feel fine," Buffy assured her. "It was just temporary insanity. Very temporary."

"Well, that's good Buffy. Look, I got to go, but I'll call you tomorrow, ok?"

"Yeah, I'll be home. Have a good evening Willow."

Willow hung up the phone and turned to face Angel. "She didn't say one word about William. I can't believe she did this."

"I can't believe she hasn't told anybody."

"I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Angel. But it just seemed so…well, crazy. I mean, I'm still not sure I believe it."

"I've seen him, and I don't believe it."

"I mean, I know she was pretty distraught but I never thought she would take things that far."

"I don't think she meant to, Willow. I think she tried to stop Dorjan before he went through with it," Wesley explained.

"But now she's got herself in quite a mess."

Willow nodded, "Yeah I know. So I guess the question is, how do we fix it?"