Author's Note: Some dialogue lifted from the Episode "Fool for Love."
London, England – 1880
Sara glances at a young man sitting off in a secluded corner at the party. With a sigh, she sits near him. Not next to him—it wouldn't be proper to be too forward. Plus, she's not really in the mood for company. No, she's itching for the hunt tonight. It should be a good night to sneak out and get in some slaying. Losing herself in her plans for the evening, she almost misses his voice.
"Luminous… oh, no, no, no. Irradiant's better."
"What?" Her fingers pick nervously at the skirt of her evening gown. Oh, God. He's not going to try and have a conversation with her, is he? She only sat here because he looked rather antisocial.
"Oh, quickly! I'm the very spirit of vexation. What's another word for 'gleaming'? It's a perfectly perfect word as many words go but the bother is nothing rhymes, you see." She looks at the strange young man closely for the first time.
His brown hair is long and one curl of it flops over his forehead and into his eyes, giving him an unfussy appearance. So many of these English men look as though they spend half their lives primping in front of mirrors. His glasses obscure sharp, intelligent eyes so blue she thinks she may drown in their ocean. His suit is the height of London fashion and it complements his slender, yet muscular form quite well. All in all, a very appealing package.
"Miss?" Again his voice grabs her attention and she blushes, realizing she must have been staring. What did he ask her? Oh, yes…
"Ummm…shiny? Bright?" His mouth twists into a nervous smile but his eyes sparkle with a secret joke as he cocks his head and considers her choices. She tries again, "Glossy?" His smile widens, no longer timid, and now his eyes are definitely amused. "I'm not very helpful, am I?" She admits in defeat. She is surprised to find that a part of her is disappointed that she is not able to impress him.
"No, no. Do not fret. I dare say I should not have bothered you. My sincerest apologies." His face pinks up in embarrassment and he hunches back over a paper she had not seen in his lap.
"It's no bother. I just wish I were more…wordy." Sara is again surprised, this time to find she wants to continue their conversation.
He peers at her shyly from under his hair. "You have a lovely accent." He blushes again after complimenting her. "Are you the American staying with the Adams family?"
"Yes, Aunt Florence invited me for an extended visit after..." Her throat tightens and she stops midstream. Being at a party, talking with a handsome young man…it's the first time she's allowed herself to forget what drove her to Europe. Closing her eyes, she wishes herself back to California.
Two years ago she had a life, her own family, a safe haven from being the Slayer. Then the two most important people in her world were killed. Now she lives in England with plastic relatives she regrets having to claim as family. Their days are filled with a relentless schedule of high tea, gossip, dinner parties, mocking the neighbors, and balls. It's exhausting. But she plays her part well. She smiles politely and acts the happy houseguest, ignoring her uncle's attempts to marry her off to the highest bidder. She lives for the nights when she can hunt. She might never again meet the vampires that killed her family, but she can take out her vengeance on any demon that crosses her path. And she does. Someday, if she's lucky, one of those demons will have a real good day and put her out of her misery….
Shaking herself back to the present, she focuses again on her companion. In his excitement, he did not even notice her slipping away.
"Your aunt? Why…why…that means Cecily is your cousin." He seems very excited by that idea. She sighs. Her cousin is the worst of the lot. It is torture living with the stuck-up, selfish bitch. How can this man, who seems quite charming, be an admirer? He doesn't seem like the normal sheep that flock to Cecily. He seems…special. Special? Her pulse quickens with that thought and she pushes it away with a vicious shove.
"Yes, she is, lucky me. I'm Sara Perez."
"It is a divine pleasure to meet you. My name is William Pratt."
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Pratt." She's again surprised to find she means it. He makes her feel warm again and she hasn't allowed herself to feel much of anything since shoving a stake into her dead husband's heart. Guilt consumes her. Happy thoughts? Admiring-a-man thoughts? She starts to rise, preparing to flee when a familiar voice breaks into the conversation.
"Sara. I thought that was you from across the room. What has it been, two years? What a pleasant surprise. We have a great deal of catching up to do, don't we?"
Forgetting William Pratt for the moment, she squares her shoulders and turns to face her watcher.