The Road Home
Summary: AU; everyone's human. Buffy Summers dodges family and friends to escape her wedding and make it back home, single. But when she returns to L.A., she finds herself stuck with a grumpy, homeless roommate without who, she soon finds, home wouldn't be home at all.
Disclaimer: 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and all associated with it belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, Joss Whedon etc. I own squat.

A/N: A bit dark, I guess, but that's how I felt today. What happened between Will and Dru. I thought, let's just get it out and over with. Sorry if the update's taken long; I've discovered Crash Bandicoot, see. Also, thanks for the reviews. I know I've gone a bit overboard with the gay stuff, so I'll try to make up for it, okay? Let me know what you think?

8. Midnight Bonding

It was hard for Will to get any sleep. Two things: one, the cat had scurried off to its owner, and he missed the smelly thing's weight against his thigh. Two, there was a girl in the next room, beautiful and smart mouthed, who he couldn't touch.

What a waste life was turning out to be.

As he turned this way and that in his bed, a sly voice rose in the back of his mind. So, then, William. Over Drusilla already?

Will swallowed. He hadn't thought of Dru for quite a while, now . . .

Of course. After all, why would you think of your lady when you have two others with you, day and night- oh, wait, not really. One's gay, the other's attached. Oops. Poor Spikey. Maybe you should go back to Dru. You know, get back your wonder years and –

Yeah, right. The wonder years. Years when he couldn't turn his back for a minute, not ready to accept what was going on behind it. Years when all he wanted was a cuddle by the fireplace after work, but had to go to some party in a dingy apartment where the smell of cocaine and alcohol filed the air. Will had wanted to come home after work to a smiling face, but all he got was Dru passed out on the couch. The hours spent at the ER of St. Vincent's were hardly unforgettable.

The voice didn't have an answer to that.

A shudder racked Will's body, but not because of any inexistent cold. Nobody knew what had passed between him and Drusilla, not even his father. Not anything substantial, at least.

They knew being with Dru was putting him into a depression. They knew she was wrong for him, that she asked for too much. They knew that much, and the rest was what they thought they knew. All lies.

It was true that he loved taking care of the women he loved. He loved caring for them, pampering them and catering to their every fancy. But he hated the things Dru had put him through. Every time she got a little better, he'd let his guard down a little and, perhaps, go out, he'd come back only to take her to the hospital again. It was almost like she liked seeing him miserable, even if it caused her pain. The woman was amazing, he had to admit. Amazing in quite a different way.

San Francisco was supposed to be their new beginning. A fully healed Drusilla and a newly promoted Will had decided to make use of the apartment an old aunt and left her. He begged and fought for a transfer to the San Francisco branch of his father's firm, and eventually had got his way, given his record. Dru left early. He was supposed to follow on a month later. He made it half a month, just to surprise her.

And, oh, what a surprise it was. But the joke was on him, not her. He'd found her in another guy's arms, and fled. Returning later, he asked her for an explanation. She asked him for cash.

He'd left for L.A. that evening.

And now he was here. Trying to sleep, in the house of a blonde, as said blonde snored away at the top of her lungs in the room across the hall while she should've been here with him.

What a waste life was turning out to be.

Yuck.

That was all Buffy could think as she gingerly nibbled on a piece of melon from the fridge. Her stomach growled as it engulfed the fruit, unsatisfied. Sighing, Buffy looked helplessly at the front parts of the racks where she kept the good stuff, but in its place were veggies and raw chicken and fruits. She leaned forwards on her stool, looking dor something edible. Finding nothing, Buffy looked back at the mostly tasteless green fruit, cut into pieces, on her lap and picked up her fork again.

Stupid Will, she thought, chewing robotically. Had to finish all my post-midnight snacks and didn't even have the courtesy to get more . . .

It was as she was thinking this that she felt a cold hand on the bare part of her shoulder where the robe had slipped. She jumped about ten feet into the air, knocking her stool backwards and falling hard on her ass. The plate of fruit spilled as a now-familiar chuckle filled the dimly lit kitchen.

"Hello, cutie," Will said, sauntering forwards and peeking into the fridge himself. When she didn't answer, he looked back over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. "You okay?"

Buffy glared at him. Her robe was almost gone, and her boxer shorts/sleeveless-tee combo of a night suit was plainly visible to Will. Her long, golden legs that ended in squashy Piglet slippers were entwined at an odd angle as her upper back rested against the counter base. The stool lifted her legs from the floor, and, god, look at those

legs . . .

"Help," she managed to wheeze out, extending an arm and he instantly shot forwards, taking her hand and pulling her up. Her hair, now mostly free of its loose ponytail, tumbled over her face and shoulders. Pushing it out of her eyes, she looked at him critically and said, "What're you doing up?"

Leaning against the counter, he smirked. "Could ask you the same."

She shrugged, and the robe slipped further down her arm. "Couldn't sleep. Decided to eat something but someone," Here she paused to glare at him, "ate all my food and couldn't show enough graciousness to get some more."

"' that so?" He raised his scarred eyebrow, again, and she couldn't help her suddenly dry throat. He grinned. "Actually, luv, 've still got all your food. Just put it in the back so not many people can get to it." And he moved the huge fruit basket to reveal what she'd been looking for.

Buffy dropped back on her knees and leaned into the fridge. "It's all here," she muttered, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise. "Why didn't I look behind . . .? Oh, I am stupid, aren't I?"

"Really want me to answer that, pet?" He bent forwards, pulling out a box of Pop Tarts. He took out two, and handed one to Buffy. "Eat up."

And she did. As the toaster pastry disappeared within a matter of seconds, all Will could do was stare. The only light in the kitchen came from the open fridge, and as Will bit into his own strawberry tart, he motioned towards the refrigerator.

"Plan to keep that door open all night, luv?"

She didn't answer, busy pulling out the second box, too. As she ripped open the paper box, she said, "Nah, just as long as I eat."

Grinning, Will said, "That'll be all night, then."

She glared. She could do that well, and did it a lot. "I'll choose to ignore that comment."

He chuckled, but kept quiet.

A little while later, Buffy said, "This floor is cold."

He patted the stool next to his. "Never stopped you from sitting like the civilized."

She sighed, and putting down the bag of Doritos, stood up. "I've got to clean up the melon mess first." Her voice was distracted, and he guessed she was speaking to herself. Especially the second part: "By god, I think I need a bib sometimes. Now I'll have to bathe . . ."

Will watched her as she washed her hands and then looked about for a sponge to wipe the sticky floor with. Finally, wondering where she got that energy from, he put down his dry cereal and said, "Sit down, luv, I'll do that for you."

From where she bent at the sink, Buffy looked up. "What?" She blinked. "You'll clean up for me? You'd do that?"

There was something disturbing about the way she said it. Something that made him say, "Well, I've moved things a bit, now haven't I? You won't know where everything is."

So Buffy sat and watched Will clean up the melon she had dropped. She idly slapped the odd mosquito that managed to survive her sanitation—oops, their sanitation. When Will finally came and sat next to her, after switching on the dimmest light that now shone above the kitchen island, she felt the need to get up and say, "Hey, let me make you some chocolate."

So now it was Will's turn to watch Buffy putter around, making hot chocolate for the two of them. After bitchiness, indifference and a bit of rudeness form her all day, this was a pleasing change. He smiled as she came back to the table with two steaming cups, and was rewarded with a smile of her own.

As they sat and sipped in fairly companionable silence, Buffy piped up, "So, what's your story?"

He smacked his lips and set down the cup. "Story?" He asked.

"Yeah. As in, why do you not have any place to stay? Why did you have to turn to Anya for help?"

He shrugged. "Moved from New York to San Francisco for a girl, found her with another guy, left the town. Had little money with me, and my dad's really mad at me so he's PNG'd me from all office premises, any branch in any city. As my account is with the firm, I've got limited cash which will be mostly wasted if I check into a hotel."

Buffy blinked at this sudden influx of information. "So," she ventured, "You're a lawyer?"

He nodded. "With Giles & Spencer."

She nodded, familiar with the firm's name. "Wolfram & Hart's greatest rival," she muttered.

Tilting his head, he asked her, surprised, "Yeah. How'd you know?"

Shrugging, she said, bit nervously, "Know a few lawyers."

"I see." He looked at her and then suddenly asked, "So, what do you do, pet? For a living?"

"Me?"

"No, the bloody Queen. Of course you."

"Oh. Well, I . . . run an art gallery," She said, frowning a bit. Is that all I do?

"Run? Or own?" Will's probing continued.

"Both. I own more than one, actually, but I run just the Los Angeles branch."

"Oh." Then he frowned. Wasn't her last name . . .? "What're your galleries called?"

"Anne Art Galleries."

His eyebrows went up. Way, way up. "Joyce Summers' galleries? You're 'Lizabeth Summers!"

He frowned, and looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Yes. How do you know my mum?"

He shook his head, unbelieving. "'m in corporate law, maybe, but I actually love the creative representatives. Keep in tune with what goes on in the art and music industries. Course I know 'bout your mum and you!"

Buffy blinked. "Wow." She said, a bit shakily. "I didn't know I was famous . . ."

Will rolled his eyes. "Not famous, luv. Well-known. There's a difference."

All she could do was shrug.

Will finished his chocolate with a slurp. Looking at her, he was silent for a while before saying, "So, Bitsy . . ."

"It's Buffy."

"Yeah, that's what I said, Bitsy."

"BUFFY. B-U-F-F-Y!"

"Yeah, Bitsy!"

She sighed. "Why're you irritating me so much?" Her voice was laced with tiredness.

Will shrugged, imitating her. "Well, I thought you wouldn't mind—"

"Wouldn't mind you butchering my name?"

"You butcher it enough, luv. 'Lizabeth is such a beautiful name. Why do you hide behind Buffy?"

She blinked. "You think Elizabeth is good?" She sounded amazed.

He nodded. "Yeah, it's beautiful. Bit ol' fashioned, perhaps, but beautiful."

Buffy swallowed. "Oh."

Will nodded, fighting to hide his grin. "Yes," he said. "Oh." Swirling the remains of his chocolate, he continued, "So, it's your choice, pet. Pick. I'll either call you Bitsy, or—"

"Elizabeth is fine." Her tone was curt, and she didn't quite look at him when she said that.

He grinned, not bothering to hide it now. "Better than fine, luv. 'Lizabeth is beautiful."

A/N: Do you guys think I need a beta?