The Miseducation of Buffy Summers by Verity
Chapter Five

Summary: Sunnydale, CA, 1997: Buffy Summers lives at 1630 Revello Drive with her family: a younger sister - Dawn, her mother - Joyce, an art historian, and her stepfather - Rupert, a professor at UC Sunnydale. Her life couldn't be more ordinary. Until her stepbrother William comes to spend the summer with them in the wake of his mother's death...

Written for taboo_spuffy on livejournal. Thanks to my loyal betas, automaticdoor, coyotegoth, and wickedwitch74!

Disclaimer: Everything that you recognize belongs to Joss. The rest belongs to me.

"Let's get out of here," Buffy said, letting go of the curtain, and they crept out of her parents' bedroom and down the hallway.

"Your mom seems cool with the bike," Willow offered once they had reached the safety of her bedroom.

"Yeah, well, I don't know what's gotten into her." Buffy threw herself down onto the bed. "Everyone is making with the freakage. Except for Rupert." She rolled over on top of Mr. Gordo and stared morosely into his little piggy face. "If he doesn't like his own son, why should I?"

She felt the mattress sag at one corner as Willow sat down next to her. "I think you're being kind of hard on him, Buffy. I mean, having to crash with your family has to be replete with awkward for him. He seems like he's trying to be nice. And also his mom is dead."

And I hate his guts. She sighed. "Well, my dad died first." Years after he'd left their family, to be fair. It had hurt more than Buffy would admit, even if her father's presence in her life had been limited to birthday presents and the rare phone call.

"It's not a contest, geez." Willow's voice brought her back to the present. "Anyway, Mr. Giles is his dad, too."

"If Rupert really cared about his stupid son he would have stayed in stupid England. Stupid stupid stupid." She punctuated the last few words by whacking her pillow against the bed.

"Buffy." Her friend placed a hand on Buffy's shoulder, her voice concerned. "What's going on? Does this have to do with Oz?"

Buffy buried her face in Mr. Gordo's stomach. "There is nothing going on with Oz."

"What?"

She rolled on her side. "There is nothing going on with Oz," she repeated to Willow. "We just broke up, ok? Lots of couples do that."

"But the night after junior prom?"

Oz had been so earnest, rolling over in his bed to shower her face with kisses, whispering in her ear, I love you, babe. An iron weight settled onto her chest. As soon as he fell asleep she snuck out and ran the whole way home, even though her shoes were still in his van. She fumbled with the keys outside the door, her hands still shaking, but Rupert opened the door for her before she could pick them up. You waited up, she said. A wordless nod.

"Nothing happened," Buffy said. "Nothing at all."

She and Willow studied for the history final until eight, when Xander showed up to shoot a few hoops. Xander was more enthusiastic than skilled when it came to basketball, but he and Buffy had been playing together since they met in kindergarten. So there was no one she'd rather steal the ball from.

She had just sunk her first shot when she heard a voice that was growing all too familiar behind her.

"Fine form, Summers." Her stepbrother was leaning against the back of her mother's car, watching them.

Xander stopped paying attention to the ball. "You bet she is. She is the finest. She is the very... uh... she is the president of fine."

Trust Xander to come to my defense. Buffy threw the ball at her friend's shoulder, where it made a loud thwocking sound before disappearing off into the bushes. He turned around, rubbing it and looking a bit peeved. "Come on, let's get back to the game."

"Sure, sure," Xander agreed.

"Mind if I try my hand?" William said. Somehow he'd gotten the ball while she wasn't looking.

Xander looked alarmed, but Buffy just shook her head at him. "You can certainly try," she said to William. "Give me the ball."

She did not like the smile he was giving her. "You'll have to take it from me." The ball was suddenly not where it had been a moment before, and neither was he. By sheer luck, she managed to block his shot, but the ball went back to him. Buffy guarded the net carefully, then made to cut in.

The ball dropped through the hoop and made a thwocking sound as it hit the pavement.

"Good defense," William remarked. "Not good enough, though. You could stand for a bit of practice."

"Excuse me," said Xander, coming between the two of them. "Buffy is perfectly capable, Mr., um-"

"Please." Her stepbrother extended a hand. "Call me Will."

When Xander had set off toward home once more, having tossed the ball around with her stepbrother for a while, she turned back toward Will, who was dribbling the ball around the driveway and occasionally throwing it in seemingly effortless arcs through the hoop. He moved swiftly and gracefully. Like a cat. Moreover, for the first time since he'd arrived on Buffy's doorstep, he seemed at ease. He was actually smiling a little bit.

She stepped in and seized the ball. Then she threw it at him, straight in the chest. He staggered back, unprepared for the assault. "Wha-"

"You," she spat, closing in on him, and he stepped farther and farther back until he was halted abruptly by the wall. "You can fool everyone, but you can't fool me. You think you can take my friends, my family-"

He put his hands on her shoulders and her mouth went dry. "Buffy. Miss Buffy." Will was looking down at her, calmly. She stilled. "I've taken nothing from you. It's you who'd share nothing with me."

They were both silent for a long moment, and she heard the soft sound of leaves scuffling along the drive in the faint breeze, the purr of a motor on the next block. Will put a finger beneath her chin and lifted it until their eyes met. "I know I don't belong here. And I know whose father our Rupert truly is. Just... don't begrudge him the blood he shares with me."

Buffy saw him begin to move his head, and, hardly conscious of it, she closed her eyes. His lips came to rest, gently, on her forehead, brushing there for a moment before his hands lifted and were gone.

When she opened her eyes, she saw only the pale siding, illuminated by the light flickering overhead.