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Chapter Seventeen

Buffy found herself wandering downstairs and through the house, tentatively going in the direction of the light flow of traffic. Everyone, it appeared, was heading to the backyard today where lunch was being served. To be truthful, her nerves her on fire despite Tara's chat. She really didn't have a clue what to say to William or how to approach him. Nevermind she'd have to—because, hey, she still had his dress jacket. And she did not look forward to returning that item because it would just remind the both of them why she had it in the first place.

And she thought high school was hard.

Had this been part of her plan all along? Subconsciously? To somehow worm her way back into his life romantically? Is that what she wanted? To finally come to terms with the fact that she could love him the way he loved her, the way she now believed he loved her? She knew she was… coming to terms with it; she'd said it out loud. Hell, talking Buffy was talking. That was something she hadn't done much of since before her runaway trip to LA.

I mean, how did getting close to him help anything? What had Whistler been thinking? The PTB? Help him remember? Just stick close? She felt like she was a pawn, just as she always was, being pushed around on a board without a clue as to how to win this game. It only made it worse that she was on a board she wasn't used to being pushed around on. Trying not to slip up around all the English hoity toities made her stomach clench; mostly, because Kit wasn't around and Ian couldn't be up her ass like he usually was… or she—whatever.

You'd think the PTB had some kind of safety in place for time traveling vampires who asked for things they shouldn't.

This thought passed through her mind as she stepped out into the light of day. Her eyes narrowed, silently cursing it. The dark was so much easier to handle. She wasn't as sensitive to it as she first had been… but, the blaring bright gave her a headache almost immediately. For a brief moment she hated the sun and all it represented. Briefly. At least people were quieter here—softer. It didn't grate her senses as badly as say Dawn playing her music too loud, Xander talking boisterously about something, Anya—before the downfall—going on and on about orgasms, or Willow… again, before the downfall… popping off some noisy magic for god knew what.

Even Kit spoke softly for the most part. She never knew being polite could be so silent. Maybe manners really weren't all about being high and mighty to others; maybe—just maybe—they were just a way how showing people you cared about their needs even when you didn't know what those needs were. Well, if you were being earnest about it; she was positive not every member of the …gentry… was that right word? Whatever. She was sure not every member of the gentry was all about being polite to be nice. Not from what she'd seen of the way William was treated. But, one couldn't deny that the way it was set up was with the intention of kindness—the manners, that is.

So odd.

"Dare! There you are. We thought you'd never make it. Come sit with us, please."

She hadn't realized she'd been busy standing there, looking over the back lawn were round tables covered in white cloths were set about; people were eating and being served; and beyond that where some long stage was. Well, not until Regina approached her dressed in some frilly pastel pink dress with a high lace neck.

She found herself blinking a few times. "Uh… sure."

"Great!" she looped her arm through Buffy's and it took a moment for the woman playing a man to not feel like she was being tugged along. It also took her another moment to think that perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to sit with Regina and her family. She wasn't sure she wanted to see Will yet.

But, to her immense relief, he wasn't there—yet. Lilith was smiling brightly at her as Regina let go of her arm and took a seat.

"So good of you to join us, Dare—I can call you as much, yes? I don't recall if we decided to forgo the formalities?"

"That's fine," Buffy told Lilith, taking a seat after Regina took her own next to her. "I never much cared for them anyway."

"Neither did my husband," she replied with a bright smile.

Buffy remembered that her last name was Scottish… She didn't know much about history, to be honest. But, she knew enough from her own time that Scotts were all about the rough and tumble. Still, she didn't want to talk about something she didn't know a heck of a lot about. So, she changed the topic to something she was curious about.

"What's going on with the…" she trailed off, looking at the stage and pointing once.

"Oh, that?" Lilith said, glancing at it as the sipped from her glass of what appeared to be juice. "There's a fencing competition today. It's all in good fun, really."

"For the men," Regina bit off under her breath, sounding like she'd really like to join in.

"Are you going to participate?" Lilith asked.

"Me?" Buffy realized she was talking about her.

"Indeed. Do Americans play? I've been told they're more proficient with pistols."

Oh, gods, if the woman across from her only knew how many sword techniques Giles had drilled into her over the years. Fencing was the sport of gentlemen as far as Giles was concerned—being a stuffy Englishman himself. So, there had been no way she'd gotten out of it even if she didn't see the point of using a rapier against a demon.

Still, she'd been a gymnast before she'd been a Slayer. For a little while anyway. So, it hadn't been too hard to keep the grace required despite being the type of Slayer that enjoyed plowing through things like a berserker. Give Buffy wall; see Buffy smash.

She smiled at her own thoughts, one hand on the table resting while the other hung over the back of the chair and she stared at the stage. Did she want to compete? She was starting to feel restless. And, fencing wasn't a sport you punched your way through; she would be forced to watch her strength even if she was fighting run-of-the-mill humans. It was more about precision and focus.

But, it hadn't gone beyond her notice that Regina was pouting in a way that reminded her of Dawn. "I might…" she replied finally and looked at the girl to her left. "Do you fence?"

"I quite adore how unconventional you are," she replied and then sighed, shoulders slumping. She was looking down at the table. "I would like to, but there's no one to teach me. All the teachers I've had Will petition to refuse to instruct a lady."

Buffy blinked at that, really hating the sexism in this time period. She was again thankful to be pretending to be a man. But, the pain in Regina's voice reminded her of… well, Dawn. It sounded like Dawn everytime she wanted to do something Buffy didn't think she could handle, or wanted to keep her away from. Like, well, demons and slaying. And for once, without the stress of her friends making her feel like she had to be the mom and say, no, you can't do this—it's my job…. It didn't ring as true. And then, really, that just made her think of Joyce and how hard it had been for her mother to handle it all; handle her being the Slayer. And really, what was the difference between Dawn or Xander and Willow helping her? Because she was her sister? Because Glory's intentions had damaged Buffy just a bit too much, made her fear for Dawn's life more than she did her friends' lives?

Looking back on herself, comparing it to all the sexist bullshit she'd dealt with in high school because of her size and gender… it suddenly made Buffy hate herself a little bit in this strange land.

"I can teach you," she suddenly found herself saying. "When get back to London, that is."

"Truly?" Her eyes, bright blue that so reminded her of Spike's, were lit with joy.

Buffy could see her hands itching to grab at her, to tug at her in disbelief. But, instead they were tightly gripping her dress in her lap.

She smiled softly. "Sure. I don't see why not."

"You'll have to bring a chaperone along," Lilith reminded her younger sister as someone started setting plates in front of them. "I'm sure Will wouldn't mind going."

"What wouldn't I mind?"

Speak of the devil, Buffy thought, instantly feeling put out as he sat down. And damn if he didn't look fine in his day clothes. Always in black, it seemed. A far cry from the tweed she'd expected based on what little she'd read of William. Had the fusion of Spike brought out something different in him?

Lilith was smiling at him as he took a seat to her right. "You're just in time for lunch.

"Dare has offered to teach Reggie fencing when we get back to London, and I'd like you to accompany her as chaperone."

Buffy did her best not to bite her lower lip and look away as William's gaze met hers as if just realizing she was there. She did her best not to blush, but apparently he wasn't as much with the restraint as she was. When those cool blues locked with her hazel greens something struck through her—the knowledge of the night before and much beyond. All of it. She could just barely see the crimson-pink that stained along the bridge of his nose and cheeks.

Damn, blushing Spike is hotter than snarky Spike.

"…I believe I can manage that," he said.

Did she actually think he'd argue?

"Anyone signing up for the matches needs to line up over here and get equipment!" someone shouted. "If you have your own equipment then don't worry about the latter!"

"I suppose that's your cue," Lilith said as she moved to take a bite of one of her finger sandwiches.

"I suppose so," Buffy replied, standing. Even if she hadn't wanted to compete she probably still would have; being the same space with Will right now was a little too much for her when she still wasn't sure what to say to him. Which, is probably why she finally did find herself blushing with a mixture of surprise and nervousness when he took hold of her arm and spun her to look at him; she'd only been halfway along in her trek to the sign-up table.

"W-Will…?" she asked, eyes a little wider than the wanted them to be.

He quickly released her arm as if she burned, as if he'd only just realized he was touching her and probably shouldn't be. He wasn't looking at her, but she could see his jaw was tight.

He couldn't find composure anymore than she could.

Was this what he'd been like before all the hurt, the pain, and the bitterness of everything had worn him down into this Billy badass of a man? Before every word that came out of his mouth was either sarcastic or laden in filth that turned her on half as much as it pissed her off? Before he'd been made into this man who had erected defenses that smothered the poet who had a hard time finding the right words?

"I… I need to talk to you," he finally said, eyes downcast. "Soon."

She swallowed and rubbed the space on her arm where he'd grabbed her. "Uh… yeah, that's fine. When?" She was looking down as well, very much not being the man she should be. At all. Actually, the way she was acting reminded her of one of those boys in boy on boy Asian comic her sister occasionally read. What were they called again…. Manga? Something Xander had gotten her into.

"Today… sometime. Maybe after…"

"Lunch?"

He nodded hastily.

"Alright." She paused, wondering if anything else needed to be said before just walking away… hating the way her heart just hurt. Why did she get the feeling this was some kind of rejection? And why in the hell, despite the fact that knew it had been coming, did it make her feel like a piece of shit?

#

There was a buzz of conversation around her. The blond pretending to be her mother was busy flirting with a Lord Killian, probably pushing her fake widow's status to the max to see if she couldn't tempt him away and into a darkened corner somewhere to let some tension out and get a few orgasms for her trouble. The man was known for being a good lover, even if his facial hair could be an annoyance. But, she wasn't paying attention. She wasn't even paying attention to man on her right; the young sap who she knew had a thing for undeflowered women and only hung on her every barely bated breath of a word because he thought she'd be putty in his hands. She wasn't sure if he'd actually acted on his desire with any of the girls on display for the season, but, she'd bet the pretty necklace around her neck that gave her the powers she had possessed for longer than she cared to count that he had. Pity he hadn't been shot by someone yet.

Poor Mr. Winthrop... if he only knew she'd lost her pure status to a man who'd all but purchased her mother for a child bride like a fattened pig for the slaughter. He wouldn't so interested if he knew all the nasty things her step-father had carved into her skin with a hot knife while he pounded her backside and abused her flesh. Nor would he be very interested if he knew how she'd tied him up when he was piss drunk one night, cut him open like he was meant for the slaughter and not her mother, and then pulled his organs from his body while he was still breathing. Well, and then replaced them with salt. No, he wouldn't be very interested at all.

But, again, she wasn't paying attention. No, she was keenly more focused on the drama occurring not far from her table as Lady Darien Clarke was standing up and William Pratt was following her. It was easier today after some rest to focus on the emotions surrounding the two. Lust… yes, but it was so veiled with bricked walls of others—things that kept them from acting. She was glad to know William was refocused on someone that could very well make him happy. The problem was, he wasn't interested in men—insofar as she knew—and he really had no idea the boy was a girl—pretty one at that even as a boy. And truthfully, Halfrek didn't want to spoil whatever Darien was doing, because she imagined the woman had a very good reason—she could smell it. Outing her would have disastrous repercussions that might find the PTB sending the Seven Hells after her.

But, she only had two and half more days to do something. Really, what she needed was more information while she had the chance.

"Excuse me," she told those at the table as she set down her glass and stood. The men stood with her, being the polite gentlemen they wanted others to believe them to be. She smiled like the girl she wasn't. "I'll be back, mother… gentlemen. I need to freshen up."

"Be sure to return in time for the competition," Anya told her as she fanned herself, though Halfrek knew she didn't give a fig is she came back at all; really, she'd just be pissed if she had to put up from pretense to go after her because young, pure, untouched debutants did not wander around for very long on their own.

"Of course." And then she was gone, slipping into the home and down into a darkened corner. It only took a moment to whirl her magic and become as invisible and as transparent as she needed to be. Then she was stepping out and closer to the duo who had only just started to speak as privately as two people could with a good many people milling about.

Had something happened? Between the two? It felt like it. Something had changed since she'd seen them both together the night before. Yes, it had. Now it wasn't just the woman—Darien—who was aching for something from William. No, now William wanted something as well. It was in their voices. It was in what they weren't saying to one another.

Perhaps… she thought as they broke away from one another… perhaps she ought to feign illness later and do a little spy work.

She smiled.

#

Whatever she had been feeling before was focused to the fine balled point of her weapon; so much so that Buffy found herself having to pull back on her strength more than she usually did to put in the finesse she needed to get points with each opponent. But, the sweat she worked up more than made up for it. Granted, at least half of the perspiration was the fault of the outfitting she wore, though it still helped.

By the end of it she was grinning, hot, and feeling a hell of a lot better. She knew it wouldn't last, but it felt good to let off some steam.

Fighting or fucking—Faith's mantra, right?

Sex was out of the question, so fighting it had been.

Out of the equipment and sweaty, she returned to the table where William sat with his sisters.

"You were marvelous!" Regina said straight away, just as soon as she sat down. "Better than many of the teachers I had Will ask on my behalf!" Her hands clapped together as her blue eyes met Buffy's greener ones. "Now I simply will not be able to wait until we return home," she insisted. "Your instruction shall be the highlight of the entire season."

"Um… thanks?" Buffy smiled, feeling a little bashful as she scratched the back of her head.

"Only girl in all of England to say such in her first entrance into proper society, I'm sure," Lilith murmured, chin in her palm as she leaned over the table, smiling. "You really aren't meant for this world, sister mine."

"Certainly not," Regina agreed, looking at her. And then she pouted. "Why must men be so…"

"Manish?" Buffy asked as she went about eating her lunch finally, starving after the workout.

"For lack of a better word, yes."

"No need to attack all of us," William felt the need to finally comment, looking put out. "Dare and I certainly aren't… "

"Yes, well, you're my brother and Dare is…. Dare is…" Regina trailed off, obviously trying to find a polite word that wouldn't give anything away to anyone who was listening. "Well, he and I wouldn't suit…. Sadly." She smiled and Buffy smiled back, not really sure how to respond. "At any rate, neither of you would make an amazing match for me for the obvious reasons, if you will. So…"

"Finding the right person is never easy," Buffy finally agreed, offering her two cents. "But, I guess it's easier if it's more about money and connections than love."

"I'm not sure I would marry for less, but you're quite right," Regina replied as she reached for her glass. "Love is a benefit for the working classes and the merchants, I suppose. Well, more so than it is for the ton."

"Well…" Buffy said with some drag in her voice once she eas done with her meal quicker than she anticipated, "I believe I'm going to bother a maid to draw a bath in my room. I want this smell off of me before dinner." She stood. "If you'll excuse me…"

"We shall see you at dinner then, if not sooner," Lilith told her.

Buffy nodded, but then that reminded her of something she needed to ask the woman about. "Ah… I meant to ask you… You're close with the hostess, right?"

"I know her well enough, why?"

"Would you mind seeing that I'm seated with you all during dinner? I don't know her well enough..."

"Of course," the dirty blond replied as if it were no trouble at all, smiling in a way that reminded buffy of an angel.

Well, that was a relief. "Thank you." With a half-bow she moved to leave and went back in the house. Hopefully Ian would be up in her room. If not, she'd ring for him. Then he could see to getting some random maid to draw her a bath. She really needed a good soak since she hadn't had one in…. oh… a while. And a shave… all over—legs, pits, arms. Thankfully, she'd brought her razors with her; Whistler hadn't even attempted to argue about that. She would have given him an earful if he had. She just wished she'd brought her damned conditioner and shampoo; though, that might have been pushing it with the PTB rep. Why had that slipped her mind? She could have at least tried.

Hopefully the maid wouldn't question all the hair in the tub… thing. Maybe she could use a cup or something to shake her razor out in and—.

She stopped as Will cut her off at the stairs, blinking wildly and entirely unsure of what to say.

"We were..." he began, eyes meeting hers. "…talk."

Mutely, she nodded, body feeling rigid while her heart beat ferociously in the cage of her ribs. "Um… yeah, sure. We can…" She looked around, realizing there were people all over the place. And even if the library wasn't busy she didn't want to drag him in there and remind him all over again about last night. "My room," she blurted and then swallowed. "…we can talk in… my room." As soon as she said it she wondered if it really was a great idea.

"…Alright."

She exhaled, trying to keep her heart rate down as she turned from him and tried not to brush her arm against his as she moved past him and up the stairs. It was hard to tell if she was afraid he would touch her, or, if she was more afraid he wouldn't.

Fuck my life. Fuck my heart; fuck all of it.

Her insides were shaking and trying to make her outsides do the same. Somehow though, she managed to keep that from happening as she got to her door and turned the knob. She thought for sure her body would tremble so badly she'd end up breaking the metal in her grip before she even got in. She didn't.

When he shut it behind them both she felt something within her jump. She turned and looked at him and then away.

Honestly, she just didn't know what to do. When he'd been Spike—just Spike—she'd been the same kind of mess. And she hid it so well; she hid all those feelings and wants… the tenderness she didn't think she should want from him… she hid it under violence and abuse. She made him give it to her because it was the only thing she'd let him give her; she gave it to him as if it was the only way she'd have him… because tenderness meant love, caring, affection—things you did with someone you loved. But that was before she finally admitted it was ok to love him; before this whole trip; before Ian, Tara, and Kit had made her realize it was real and amazing—that it was no one's business who she loved or why.

Is this how Spike had felt? Like she'd been holding his heart and he didn't know if she was going to crush, caress it, or throw it back at him again? Had he felt this same sense of, 'Will she blame me? Again? Will she throw it in my face somehow that's it my bloody fault again? That what I feel isn't real or right because I'm a damned vampire and therefore not worthy of lovin' her—not capable of it?'

Oh god, is that it had sounded…?

He felt her throat tightening…. And he hadn't said two words yet.

"Dare…"

She looked at him then, eyes wide and wholly unsure. Her hands were drawn up to her chest, she realized just before she forced them down.

He was looking at her strangely, as if he could see right through her—like he always did. It made her feel like…like… like a big part of her was a cornered animal. Another part of her felt like… fuck, she didn't want to hear it—hear him tell her it was all a mistake because…

…because that's exactly what she'd done to him.

Oh, god, it hurt.

She knew, really she did, that he wasn't him—he was William. And William didn't know Dare was Buffy. He thought she was a man; she didn't think for a second that well-mannered William who wrote beautifully terrible love poems about women was bi. If Spike had been she'd never known. But, she was sure William wasn't. Couldn't be. No, she knew this whole thing had to be wrong for him. Had to be.

Why did it hurt so much if she knew it would be different if he knew she was a woman?

Because, you want him to love you no matter the skin you've got on. Because some part of you knows you deserve this—the rejection to come.

It took everything in her power not to clamp her hand over her mouth, shut her eyes, and let the tears fall.

It was inevitable after all.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. All she could see was the blue in his eyes, the cool ice of it that was filled with some kind of warmth. She didn't want to see pity there; she didn't want him to see how much she wanted him just the way he always saw it.

Her carefully constructed armor was breaking… crumbling.

"Don't," she found herself saying, trying to pull away from him. But then he took her other shoulder in his grip and tethered her there.

By all rights she knew she could pull away—she could. Her body didn't want to. That was the real problem; her heart didn't.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I…"

She found herself pulling harder then, trying to rip herself from his grip. But as she did that he embraced her, clutching her to his larger frame like a lifeline. "You're making it harder," she managed to get out, gasping for the words that slipped from her thoughts as easily as honey falling through prong on a fork.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? She hadn't realized she'd said that out loud until he spoke again.

"I…" he sighed, his nails digging into layers of clothing on her back. "God… I don't know."

Her chest heaved and she realized she couldn't find breath. This was so much worse than letting go of Angel. This was worse than trying to lie to herself by telling Spike it wouldn't work, by telling him she didn't love him—that he just wasn't able to love her.

"Oh God," she heard him say in a hoarse whisper of want, say it like a man who dying for something—starved with it. "I'm going to kiss you."

And then he did.

AN :: I didn't plan on finishing this chapter so soon; however, classes start for me on Monday and I figured I'd get it out early since Dragoncon is next Thursday and I'm working it until the first of September. I can't promise you I'll have another one out next month, but if my writing bug keeps up you might get a bonus.

So, about this chapter… I've been digging my heels around the whole Spuffy interactions for about… well, this is chapter seventeen, sixteen was all about character introspection…. So, yeah, I was dragging my bum (teehee… bum) until around chapter fifteen. Now, I don't know if you noticed by the tune of this chapter… but, Buffy is getting a taste of just what our favorite vampire received for well over the course of a few seasons. Expect more of that. But, I don't think you lot are unappreciating of this karmic turn around. It was kind of my goal for Buffy to know how Spike felt by using the guise of a man on her as the reason William doth protest too much. I'm kind hoping that doesn't reveal too much… but, you get it.

From here on out it might get messier. Ta, luvs!

—Blade