The Miseducation of Buffy Summers by Verity
Chapter Six
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 coyotegoth and wickedwitch74!
Disclaimer: Everything that you recognize belongs to Joss. The rest belongs to me.
By the end of the second week, Will was starting to get the hang of life in the Summers-Giles household.
Morning: around five-thirty. He woke up on the study's couch every morning to the soft patter of Buffy's feet coming down the stairs. After she'd left for her run, he'd go out on the porch for a smoke. If he was slow enough, she'd pass him on the way in.
Breakfast: around seven. Rupert would cook while Joyce, Buffy, and Dawn wandered in and out of the kitchen. Will usually waited until everyone had found a plate before he came in.
Work: around nine. The plates cleared away, Will would lock himself in the study and stare at the computer for a while. After the first few days, he'd started at work again on the first of the two papers he had left to complete. Although he'd been given an extension for his finals over the summer on account of bereavement, the work somehow seemed unbearably daunting for such a short amount of time. It was difficult to concentrate; when it became too much, Will would go out to the porch and have a smoke again.
Afternoon: around three. Dawn would come home from summer camp and insist on playing with the computer or otherwise putting herself in his way. Usually, she sent Will on an errand that involved ice cream or Lisa Frank stationary or something equally impractical. Will rated this as the best part of the day.
Tea: around four. Rupert was making an effort; Will had to give him credit for that. Still, half the time he nipped out to the pub for a pint instead.
Dinner: around six. Only unbearably awkward if Buffy was home. He was having a difficult time deciding whether her decision to totally ignore him was better or worse than constantly leveling insults. Joyce generally laid out an excellent spread when it was her turn to cook, though, so Will never passed up an evening meal.
Avoiding social obligations: around seven. Motorcycle maintenance in the garage it was, then. After the first few days, when he'd had to break the bike down to fix the coolant system and adjust the suspension, there was nothing he really had to do with it. But Will kept finding seals to replace, chrome to polish, and parts to oil. Motorcycles were material, logical - puzzles of fire and steel that fit together like intricate clockwork. In other words, nothing like the rest of his life.
Hot chocolate: around nine. When he'd been younger, this had been his favorite part of visiting his father: Joyce making him hot chocolate on the stove, with those little marshmallows he'd always liked. But these days, the world seemed to bleed around the edges with all the things Will couldn't voice. They drank their chocolate in silence until Joyce patted his hand and went up to bed.
Nightmares: around ten. That was the schedule.
"My William," she said, patting him on the head. "Very clever. Look at your drawing there, that's a good one."
He looked down at the desk, to the forms neatly rendered on bristol board.
"Always knew drawing lessons were worth it. Right well-rounded boy, you'll be. Like our Angel."
Her body, in a pool of blood, made bigger and bigger by his imagination.
"It looks so dark and shiny, like a lovely little pool."
It kept spreading slowly across the page.
The afternoon found Will in the study, perched on the edge of the sofa, wrapped in the comforting warmth of the duster. "This is a fairly detailed request," he observed, peering down his nose at Dawn, who was leaning over the back of the desk chair, a book dangling from her hand. "Sure I'm up to the challenge, nibblet?"
His sister grinned. "Of course you are. Also, Mom said to bring home some milk."
"You Summers gals sure do know how to boss a man around," he grumbled, but a smile tugged at his lips. "Be back before you finish that one, I reckon."
"You'd better!" Dawn waved her book in emphasis. "I will... I will go into book withdrawal and be wracked with pains if I have to wait even five minutes for the next one."
Will snorted. "Guess I'd better hop to it, then."
On the way out, the phone rang. he was just picking up the helmet when his father came out into the hall from the kitchen. "Phone for you, Will."
He'd been half-expecting this call for a while. Still, the voice on the other end of the line when he picked the phone off the counter was a surprise.
"Hey, baby," she said, husky voiced. "''spect you know why I rang."
Will eyed Rupert, who was gazing at him expectantly from the other end of the counter. "You want to meet me at Willie's around four? Local pub."
The deep chuckle she gave was almost a purr. "My pleasure."
The line went dead, and he hung the phone up on the receiver. "I've got a friend in town," he told Rupert by way of explanation. "Thought I'd meet up for a drink."
"I see."
His father might have said more, but Dawn's shout from the other room cut him off. "Will, you have to go get my books, you promised!"
"Fine!" Will raised his hands in submission, more for his father's benefit than for Dawn's. "Off I go."
He left the helmet behind.
Had it not been for the sharply raised pitch of her voice, he might have missed Buffy altogether as he carried the books out of the mall to the bike.
"I can't explain, there's nothing to explain!" she was saying. "Please, can't you let it go?"
A male voice, quieter. "I just... if something is wrong, if there's something wrong that I did... I want to make it better. I miss us."
"There is no us!" she cried somewhat shrilly just as she came into Will's line of sight. He was surprised to see tears on her cheeks. The boy standing behind her was short, redheaded, his mouth twisted with concern. "Stop it. Just leave me alone."
The boy opened his mouth to speak, but Will was quicker. "I believe the lady asked you to step down." He turned to his stepsister. "Do you need a ride home?"
She nodded, more tears running down her face. Some girls were pretty criers, but Buffy was not one of them. Her face was screwed up and her nose was runny. Will offered her his handkerchief, and she blew her nose into it loudly. "Go away, Oz."
Oz gave her one last look which seemed laden with meaning, then went back toward the mall. "What's all this, pet? Has that lad been bothering you?"
"No, he just-" Snuffling, she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Why... why are you carrying around a handkerchief?"
"Requirement for British citizenship, I'm afraid." Buffy stared at him. "Never mind. You sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine! Really!" Buffy stuck out her lower lip, but it wobbled, and she began to cry again. Will scrambled for the handkerchief. "It's just my stupid ex-boyfriend. I don't know why I'm telling you this. I keep running into him everywhere."
"Bust up his kneecaps for you if you like." Now she looked at him indignantly. "Never mind," Will corrected himself. "You're perfectly capable of that yourself. My apologies."
At this, Buffy managed a weak smile. "That's right." Her eyes traveled over to the bag he was carrying. "Why are you at the mall, anyway?"
"The little bit sent me on an errand," he said, a bit self-consciously. "She's in the middle of this Wrinkle in Time series and wanted the rest of them."
"You don't have to buy her all this crap."
"I have plenty of money, no use for it. Might as well spend it on our Dawn."
Buffy made a face. Will didn't know why he bothered arguing with her, really. No changing her mind, whatever she thought of him.
"Come on. I've got to run to the grocer on the way home and pick up some milk for your mum, and your sis has me on a strict deadline." He gave her a hand up onto the bike, trying to ignore the way her tight little body felt under his hands.
"Thanks," Buffy mumbled into the back of his neck as she wound her arms around him, somewhat awkwardly.
For some reason, he found it a bit difficult to breathe. "No trouble, Miss Buffy. No trouble at all."
When they reached the house, he fetched the milk and books out of the saddlebags and handed them to her while the bike idled. Buffy seemed surprised. "You're not coming in?"
Will shook his head. "Friend in town, meetin' her at the pub for a drink."
"A girlfriend?" she asked. "Must be special, following you all the way over here."
"Hardly. Like as not, she's in town on business." He cleared his throat. "Very busy, the lady in question, so I must catch her while I can."
Buffy looked at him curiously, but he shook his head again to ward off further questions. As soon as she went in, Will sped off down the driveway.
Will spotted him as soon as he entered Willie's. His hair had gone grey, mostly, and he was wearing clothes that would have allowed him to blend in even on the campus of UCSD.
"Ethan," he said, sliding onto the barstool next to him. "Supposed you'd turn up sometime." Surprised it took this long, really.
Ethan Rayne's smile carved a thin line across his lean face. "It's been a while since I was in the States. Since your father came over. However, I imagine you won't be giving him my regards."
"Ha. He'd piss himself." Will signaled the bartender. "A pint of Newcastle for the both of us." He turned back to Ethan. "Didn't expect you'd bring your duckling across the pond with you."
"Her mother was from the States, you know." The older man reached out to take the full glass. "It's time enough for her to join me in the business. She's getting to be sharper than I am, when it comes to the field. I'm retiring after I tie this little mess up."
Will felt, rather than heard, her come up from behind him. Her breath whispered across the back of his neck. "Nice to see you again, stranger."
He swiveled around on the stool. She looked much the same as when he'd last seen her - flawless, the jeans and tank top she wore fitting her as if they'd been glued on. "Faith."
She shook her hair over her shoulders, all glossy and chestnut, and grinned. "Come on, Spike. Let's go have some fun."