So, as you all know (I think), I moved (from California to Washington) back in July last year...and I haven't been working. It's been nice, but money is getting tight, so I decided that I should get a job. I've been lazily applying for positions and not hearing back, then all of a sudden I got two emails and a call for interviews. Then I started talking to a woman in the grocery store and she gave me her number and took mine about another job. Why does it happen all at once?! Lol. I have a virtual interview this afternoon, but I've already taken one of the jobs. We'll see what happens. The job I've taken isn't very many hours, but it's close. The job interview today might be full time (I don't know yet), but it's not close by. Wish me luck!
Chapter Fifty-five
"No Invitation Required"
Everyone was already inside the house by the time Alistair got there. He'd not joined them in the cab—it would be uncomfortable for all—and he hadn't hurried to get there either. And now he was just standing outside, looking up at the house, when the front door opened.
"Are you going to just stand out there?" the blonde girl asked him.
Alistair let his gaze drop to the Slayer and silently contemplated her question—and tried to remember the last time he'd been invited into someone's residence. It had been longer than he cared to remember—and he wasn't sure why he'd gone to the witch's home now. It was out of sheer curiosity, he supposed. He was interested to learn more about who she was and where she'd come from—in a setting that was not quite so dangerous. At least, he hoped it wouldn't be!
"Don't invite it in," someone said from behind her—causing her to roll her eyes. It was dark inside the house behind her, but there was still just enough light outside to see her face. Her eyes were sparkling with mirth in the low lighting.
But Alistair knew it was the boy called Edmund who'd spoken.
"I told you, an invitation isn't necessary for him!" Buffy said, clearly annoyed by Edmund's use of pronouns. Then she waved her hand at Edmund and said, "Watch."
Pulling the door open, Buffy stepped backward—giving the boy a little push to get out of the way—then looked at Alistair and waited, offering him no invitation.
Hesitating, Alistair glanced up at the house again. It was several stories tall, but quite narrow, and it looked like no one was home. Or, to human eyes and ears it would seem so. But he could hear the sounds of humans inside, feel the life buzzing within it. He let his eyes drop from the dark windows, and then settled them on the Slayer.
"Are you quite sure about this?" he asked her. She was standing in the darkened entrance hallway, but he could see her clearly—the girl was like a beacon of light. Shrugging, she simply smiled.
But it wasn't solely her. Just as his hearing was heightened, so were all his other senses. He didn't need lighting to see with his vampire eyes. And behind her he could see the still very upset boy standing there, his arms crossed over his chest and a deep scold on his face. He wasn't happy at all.
Glancing around to see who might still be on the street—who might take notice of him—Alistair resigned himself to entering the house. Sighing, he pulled back his hood and stepped over the threshold of the house.
"See?! No invitation," Buffy said, looking at her angry friend.
Edmund harrumphed, then turned and walked away, grumbling as he went.
"Sorry about him," Buffy called out loudly as she closed the door. "He's grumpy!"
Alistair stared at her. She was much too close. Standing this close to her inside the narrow entrance hall of the house felt much closer than sitting beside her out in the open air at Highgate Cemetery. He could hear her heartbeat—he could practically feel it beating! It was almost suffocating.
And she was also quite small. He'd noticed it before—when she was in his arms as he took from her what she'd offered to him. It was hard to believe that someone that small could wield so much power.
"You're very tall," she said, tilting her head to look up at him from her much too close proximity. It was as if she'd read his mind.
His lips twitched. He wasn't sure whether to pull them back and hiss with annoyance because their thoughts were in tune or smirk with amusement.
"So um. We'll go upstairs into the living room. That's where the Gileses are and there's more space up there," she explained, as she wagged her finger toward the ceiling—then she turned and started to walk away.
Watching for a moment, Alistair frowned. He'd not been in the homes of many people. Not in years. Usually he took what he needed from them in dark alleys, then disappeared, leaving the human to regain their wits and find their way home on their own. This was strange.
"Are you coming or are you going to just stand there looking at paintings?" Buffy asked.
He turned to look at her. She had reached the stairs and appeared to be waiting for him. He glanced back at the painting. He hadn't realized he'd been staring at it.
"This one is interesting," he commented.
Buffy's eyes went to the painting. It was of a dark-haired young woman, in a long blue dress, walking down the steps in a garden. She'd probably walked by the painting at least a hundred times now and had never really looked at it. The girl looked sad, but she was very beautiful. Buffy's gaze went to Alistair—he was still staring at the painting.
Alistair could feel her watching him and so he turned, forcing himself to move further into the house. At the stairs, he looked up, then placed his hand on the railing and took the first step. On the landing at the top of the flight, he looked to his right. There was a small room there. It had a desk and a chair and two windows—one high and one low—that looked into two other parts of the house.
"That's Vin's office," Buffy said—then she chuckled. "Though...I've never actually seen her use it."
Turning his head, Alistair looked at the girl. She was halfway up the next flight of stairs.
"Those windows...they do not show the outside," he said.
From above him, Buffy shook her head. "No, they don't. This house is larger than it looks. I suspect it's been enlarged magically," she said, placing her hand on the wall. "I can feel it everywhere."
Alistair reached out and gingerly touched the wall. He felt the magic too and was surprised he hadn't been aware of it the moment he walked into the house. The house was almost buzzing, but he was so far removed from the magical world that he sometimes forgot that he used to be a part of it. He could still be a part of it, but when he'd been turned, magic had not been a priority. Only one thing is important when you've been turned—blood.
"The bottom window shows the kitchen," Buffy said, interrupting his introspection. "The other actually leads to a small outside patio that's surrounded by glass. On the other side of the glass is a bedroom. Tom's."
Alistair's brows raised. "Your other friend lives here?"
Buffy shrugged. "Sort of," she said. "He's not here now though."
Alistair visibly relaxed. The friend called Tom was the more angry—and more powerful— of the two boys that were Buffy's friends. Though, after this evening, he might have to reevaluate—Edmund was fairly angry too.
At the top of the stairs, Alistair approached the open doorway that Buffy had gone through. Inside that room were the three Watchers, each standing at different locations, all of them looking uneasy at his presence.
He was on edge as well. These humans loathed him for what he was even though he'd had no choice in the matter. He shouldn't care what they thought of him, but he did—and that felt odd! He couldn't remember the last time he'd cared what someone thought.
And he was uncomfortable in a different way too. Being so close to beating hearts—hearts that were pushing the substance that kept him animate through their weak human bodies. The soreness it caused in his throat felt rough—scratchy. His throat tightened, almost painfully. It was like they were teasing him on purpose, callously tempting him—tormenting him!
Buffy had crossed the room and, flopping down on a chair, she looked up at everyone. "Are you going to sit down, so we can have a proper talk? Or are all of you going to just stand there glaring at one another?"
"I will stand," Alistair said curtly, moving into the room, but positioning himself so that he could dart out if need be. There was a second door and a third that may or may not lead to the room with the outside... patio? That sounded like an escape. Outside. Alistair wished he was outside right now.
On the other side of the room, next to the fireplace, Edmund didn't say anything, but he remained standing as well—putting off an air that said, if the vampire wouldn't sit down, then neither would he. His blood was still boiling over the fact that Buffy had set out intentionally to find the vampire that now stood in his aunts' home!
Looking from her son to Buffy to the vampire, Edna frowned—then huffed and took a seat on the far side of the sofa. Her position was more rigid than relaxed, but Alistair did not sense fury coming off of her. Rupert went with her. He was clearly curious about the evening's happenings—and surprisingly neutral.
"Okay now! Let's chat!" said Buffy, drawing everyone out of their thoughts.
Silence.
"Oh, come on, Eds...you're the one who wanted to talk," the Slayer said. "So talk!"
Edna swallowed. "Very well. You said that my sisters are aware that you've been bitten by this..." She hesitated—then finished with, "by him?"
Buffy nodded. "Yes. I told them the next day...after I'd recovered."
Edmund looked shocked. He'd assumed that she'd been lying when she told them they knew.
"You told them?!" he asked in disbelief.
"Of course! I mean, I didn't want to, but I didn't want them to find out somehow and then be upset with me."
Edna's brows raised. "They weren't upset?"
"Oh no, they were upset. In fact, they were very, very upset. But, with Tom's help, I was able to talk them down," Buffy explained—and then she explained to Edna and Rupert so that they might understand. "So you see, I had to do it."
Edna glanced at the vampire. "Out of guilt?" she asked, her gaze going back to the Slayer.
"Well yeah. I caused it, so..." Buffy said with a shrug. "So you can imagine why I felt the need to fix the situation. And I've been checking the papers...to make sure he wasn't going around killing people." She picked up a stack of newspapers and plopped them down on the coffee table. "See for yourself."
Rupert raised a brow this time. "How well did you read through those papers?" he asked.
Buffy shrugged. "I just sorta skimmed a bit."
Rupert and Edna exchanged a glance. "Buffy, there are crimes being committed everyday…beatings, disappearances, unsolved murders," Rupert listed.
"Okay, so I missed stuff in my speed-reading, but it's not Alistair," she argued vehemently. "I told you about the Unbreakable Vow. He's not hurting anyone. I'd stake my life on it."
"An odd choice of words," Edmund grumbled.
Buffy glared up at him. "You don't get to judge me. I'm still royally pissed at you!" she snapped. "Don't be surprised if I decide to slap you again. Just accept it and be glad it's not a wallop at slayer strength. Which, by the way, you deserve!"
Edmund glared back at her, then glanced at his parents. "Are you going to allow her to speak to me like that?"
"Oh sure! Ask them for help now!" Buffy burst.
Edmund was still looking at his parents.
"I'm afraid I agree with Buffy, dear," his mother said. "Your behavior this evening was unacceptable."
"And not simply because she's your friend," his father put in. "A gentleman should never treat a lady in that manner."
"See!" said Buffy.
Huffing, Edmund looked away, embarrassed to be reprimanded in front of others.
Edna looked from her son to Buffy and snapped, "And a lady should not be traipsing about in cemeteries, spending an evening with the vampire who bit her!"
Buffy rolled her eyes. Unlike Edmund, she didn't care about the reprimand. "I've explained the bite and I'm not going to justify myself to you about it again," she said. "I did what I did and that's that. And I would do it again, if I had to. Get over it!"
Much like her son, Edna huffed—then stood up. "In that case...I suppose we're done here," she said. Following his wife's lead, Rupert got to his feet.
Buffy shrugged. "That's up to you."
Edna glanced at the vampire. He was standing close to the doors, as if he were ready to bolt. She wasn't used to a vampire who seemed so tame. At Highgate, he'd just calmly sat on the wall above the tombs, sharing sweets with the Slayer. It was an odd occurrence, to say the least.
And then he'd jumped over Egyptian Alley—almost flown—going to Edmund and Buffy's aid. That had been something else. Edna suspected that he'd done it for Buffy's sake and not Edmund's, but the result was the same—her son was still alive and uninjured and for that she had to be grateful.
Nodding at the vampire, she repeated her gratitude. "Thank you for what you did in the cemetery, Mr..." she prompted.
Alistair smirked and shook his head.
"He claims he doesn't remember his last name," Buffy supplied.
"I am called Alistair, Madam," he said.
Edna frowned. She knew the name he was going by. Something about calling a vampire by its given name didn't sit well with her. And was that even his true name? If he didn't know his surname, could he have also forgotten his first name? Then she realized she was thinking about the vampire as he and not it—and frowned even more.
Nodding, Rupert looked at their son. "It's time we left," he said firmly.
Edmund's jaw dropped and he stared at his father. "We're going to leave Buffy here, alone with him?!" he all but sputtered.
Neither of his parents responded—causing Edmund to glare back at them in frustration. After a moment, he turned that frustration on Buffy.
"I have a mind to go to Wools and tell Tom about this!" he said to her.
Buffy's eyebrows raised. "And how would you do that without telling him about that kiss you laid on me?" she asked, knowing that Edmund had no interest in raising Tom's ire. Besides, she planned on telling Tom about it all herself—and she hoped he wouldn't go ballistic over it! "I say, go tell him. I dare you."
Edmund huffed. He didn't like it that she'd called his bluff. He wasn't exactly afraid of Tom Riddle, but he didn't actually want to make the other boy angry. The kiss had been impulsive and now he felt embarrassed that he'd done it. Frowning, his eyes shifted over to Alistair. "I don't like leaving you here alone with him," he said.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Edmund, I'm perfectly capable of handling myself. And your lack of confidence in me truly hurts." She held her hands to her heart as if it pained her.
Edmund winced. He knew he'd lost. Giving the vampire one last look, he nodded at Buffy and walked out—his parents following.
~oOo~
"Well, that was fun," Buffy said after she heard the front door slam closed. Getting up, she went to the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and got comfortable—then looked up at Alistair. He was still standing where he'd been. He hadn't moved even a millimeter. "You can sit down now."
The vampire frowned. "Your friend is not wrong. You should not be alone with me."
Buffy snorted. "I'm not afraid of you, Alistair," she said.
He shook his head. "You should be."
Buffy laughed. "Well, I'm not."
Alistair stared at her—and then he was across the room in a blink, grabbing Buffy by the hair and yanking her head to the side. "Are you afraid now?"
"You tell me, Alistair," she said. "Listen to my heart."
Closing his eyes, Alistair focused on the girl—and her heartbeat. Its beat was regular. She showed no fear. What an odd girl! Releasing her, he stepped backward and away from her, then moved toward the windows that were covered by thick blackout curtains.
"Thanks for saving Edmund tonight," Buffy whispered. "Your actions speak volumes. Why did you do it?"
Alistair frowned. "I don't know, Buffy Summers."
She rolled her eyes at what he'd called her. In the end, he couldn't help himself, she supposed. "Are you going to sit down?" she asked as she leaned back on the sofa.
The vampire shook his head. "I am not. As tempting as the offer is, you are far more tempting," he said, his eyes on her slender neck. When he'd released her, she hadn't bothered to move. Instead, she'd kept her head lolled to the side as she stared up at him. "I must leave."
"All right. Suit yourself," she said, standing up. "I'll walk you out."
~oOo~
Once Alistair was gone and Buffy was alone, she started to feel antsy again. With nobody to talk to, no television to watch, and no great desire to pull out her books—even though she knew she should—Buffy considered going out again. This time she didn't feel the draw to stake something—she'd gotten her fill of that at Highgate this evening—but she did feel the need to cross London and see Tom—and maybe tell him about her evening before he found out from anyone else. Like from Edmund! She'd pretended as though it didn't worry her—even turned it around on Edmund—but she'd been acting. She knew Tom wasn't going to be happy about it—that she'd gone out alone...that her intent was not just to find vampires to slay...that she went out hoping to find Alistair...that she found him and spent time with him...that Edmund had kissed her...and that all of them—including Alistair—had gone back to Vin and Sophie's house afterwards. Nope! Tom was going to be furious!
Without really thinking, Buffy boarded the train and headed south to Lambeth. It didn't take long. Soon she found herself outside Wools looking up at Tom's window. She knew just which room was his—it was on the third floor, room twenty-seven—even though the building was dark, with no windows showing any light.
But that meant nothing in this time as everyone's windows were blacked out. Fortunately for her, the moon had just passed being full, so there was enough outside light to see everything fairly clearly.
Looking around, Buffy found a pebble and tossed it up at Tom's window and waited.
She knew the moment that his window clicked open even though he didn't say anything. Waving—because she knew he could see her clearly in the moonlight—she motioned that he should stay where he was. And then she moved toward the entrance gate that led to the front door of the orphanage.
~oOo~
Tom had been sitting at his small desk, reading by torchlight—he'd managed to swipe one at some point—when he'd heard the tink sound of something hitting his window. Immediately, he switched off the light and pushed his curtain aside—to see Buffy standing on the pavement below, her blonde hair reflecting the light of the moon. Even if there had been no light, he would have known it was her—who else would be throwing pebbles at his window in the middle of the night?
After a moment, he opened the window, intent on hissing at her like he had the last time. But before he could do so, she waved, then made some sort of stop motion—or that's what it appeared to be—and then she disappeared.
Frowning, Tom sat down on his bed, wondering what she was up to—and why she hadn't just sent him an owl if she wished to tell him something that couldn't wait until the next day.
For about five minutes he sat there waiting—contemplating what he should do—and then he decided he should probably sneak out and find her. But just as he stood up, there came a single soft knock on his door. Obviously there was no need to sneak out, when it had to be her that had sneaked in! With a smirk, he went to the door and carefully—silently—turned the knob and pulled the door open a crack, just to be sure. When he saw that it was indeed Buffy, he opened the door enough to let her in, then leaned out and looked up and down the hallway—then closed the door again.
Quickly, he went over to the window and closed it, then pulled the curtains over it securely, then switched his torch on again and stared at Buffy.
"What are you doing here?" he hiss-whispered.
Buffy tilted her head to the side. "Hi there to you too," she said as she turned back toward the door.
He was surprised—though he probably shouldn't be at this point—when she pulled out one of her secondhand wands and locked the door.
"Hello Buffy," he said when she'd turned back.
She grinned.
"Not that I'm unhappy to see you again today, but..."
Buffy huffed, then lowered herself to sit on the end of his bed. "I had something to tell you that couldn't wait until tomorrow," she said. "Well, it could wait, but I wanted to tell you...like, asap! And I didn't want to send an owl...and risk another one of those oopsy Apparition things."
Tom raised a brow, then crossed his arms over his chest. It couldn't be a good thing if she was worried about upsetting him to the point that he used accidental magic to cross the city.
"All right," was all he said.
Buffy sighed. "So, I went out patrolling this evening and..." She bit her lip.
"And..." he prompted, bracing himself for something bad.
"Well, I ended up over at Highgate again," she said—then made a face.
Tom watched her. Clearly she didn't want to tell him something. "And?" he repeated.
"Okay, so I didn't just end up there...I planned to go there. I mean, I know there are vampires at Highgate, so..."
He frowned. "You mean, you knew that you might find him there?!" he hissed out, figuring out why she was finding it hard to get her words out.
Buffy sighed again. "Okay. Yeah. I was worried about Alistair, so I went over to Highgate to see if he would show up. And, you know, to check on him if he was there."
Tom nodded. "And he was."
Buffy nodded. "Yeah. I was checking out this super old tree and then...there he was."
"I see."
"Are you angry?" she asked, biting her lip. "You definitely look upset."
Tom frowned. "Upset? I will admit that I'm... not pleased that you went there alone. Or that you were looking for the vampire who bit you," he said. "Unless it was your plan to kill him."
Buffy shook her head. "Yeah, no. No plans to kill him," she said. "But, I sent the Gileses a message, telling them I was going there, so I wasn't alone the entire time. They showed up not long after Alistair did."
Tom frowned. "All right. That's better than nothing, I suppose."
Buffy nodded. "I think so, but...this is where it gets a bit tricky though. Edmund wasn't very happy either...when he saw me sitting there with Alistair. He wanted to talk to me...alone. So we went to talk and...he sort of kissed me," Buffy admitted—and then hurried on. "And then we were attacked by other vampires...the kind that get dusty when they're staked. So, I staked a few of them. Then Alistair had to jump in because Edmund was in over his head...I think. I mean, I was busy with vamps of my own. Then the Edna and Rupert arrived on the scene, just as it was ending...and then we all went back to Vin and Sophie's house to talk about it. They were all a bit worked up over it all. And Edna wanted to know about my bite too."
Buffy stopped talking then and waited for him to say something.
"You let Edmund kiss you?!" Tom growled, dropping his arms to his sides and fisting his hands.
Buffy shook her head. "No! He just... did it! And got slapped for his effort too!" she snapped, standing up and moving closer to him.
Tom took a step backward. He was angry. More than that! He was... enraged! He felt betrayed by both of them! He wanted to Crucio Edmund—and Buffy! Or maybe just send a stinging hex at her. Something to let her know he was more than simply angry. He was seeing red! Either way, he thought it best that she stay away from him.
But she didn't get the message and reached for one of his hands. He resisted. He desperately wanted to hit something! If not her—it couldn't be her—then a wall. But he couldn't do that either. He couldn't even yell at her properly, for fear that someone would hear him. Someone would hear them! And they'd both be in serious trouble if she were caught inside his room!
But resistance was futile with Buffy. Even though he stood there, rigid in front of her, she'd managed to weave her fingers into one of his tightly fisted hands—and then the other—then shake him out of his fury.
"Hey! You're not the only one who gets to be outraged here," Buffy said quietly, squeezing his hands hard enough to make him wince—which helped to break into his anger and calm him down. "You know, I'm the one who was kissed. And let me remind you, in case you've forgotten, it was against my will."
Working his jaw, Tom forced himself to relax. She was right. His anger should be reserved for Edmund Giles alone.
"And don't get any ideas about hexing or hitting Edmund either," she said.
Tom narrowed his eyes. "You won't let me prevent this from happening again?" he asked, wondering if she'd secretly liked having the other boy kiss her.
"I'm quite capable of handling it for myself, thank you very much!"
Tom ground his teeth. He hated that he hadn't been there to protect her—though, as she'd pointed out, it was unnecessary. "Yes, I know you are," he responded. "That isn't the point. He needs to know that you're..." He stopped talking abruptly, suddenly unsure of himself. He was going to say, mine! Was she his? He thought of her as his. She allowed him to kiss her like she was his. But the idea of having something that was solely his, was foreign to him. Maybe she didn't want to be his!
Buffy stared up at him, waiting.
Sighing, Tom moved toward his bed and sat down, pulling Buffy onto his lap. She didn't resist and he wondered if she'd slap him too if he took a kiss without asking.
But instead of him kissing her, Buffy let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him—and he didn't hesitate to return it. Their kisses went on for a while before she leaned back and looked into his dark eyes. She was breathing hard, as was he. Reaching up, she ran a thumb over his lips, wiping away the wetness she'd left there.
"Sorry," she said. "I got carried away."
He smirked. "You are welcome to get carried away anytime."
She chuckled. "I'm sorry I've upset you," she whispered.
He frowned. "You've done nothing wrong."
"I know, but you still looked like you wanted to punch me."
"I would... never hit you, Buffy," he said.
She nodded. "I know," she said—then grinned. "Besides, I'd hit you back if you did."
He laughed quietly. "I have no doubt you would," he said. "You know, this could have waited until tomorrow."
Buffy made a face. "Well, Edmund's pretty angry about me being alone in the cemetery with Alistair...I thought I should tell you about it before he had a chance to tell you. I figured you'd be more angry if I didn't tell you."
Tom hmm'd. "And how would he have told me without telling me the part he'd played in this?"
Buffy snorted. "That's what I said. Please don't make a big deal about the kiss, Tom. I've handled it. Really."
"He needs to know that I know," Tom countered. "That it isn't a secret."
Buffy nodded. "I'll tell him that I told you."
Tom shook his head. "No. I will tell him that I know."
Buffy frowned. "No violence though," she said, wagging her finger in his face. "Promise me you won't hurt him."
Reaching up, Tom grabbed her finger and squeezed it. "I won't hurt him," he said.
Buffy grinned. "Okay. So, where were we?" she said, joining their mouths again.
~oOo~
An hour later they found themselves exhausted from heated kisses and heavy, over their clothing, petting!
Groaning, Tom rolled off of her and, because his bed was so narrow, nearly found himself on the floor—which caused Buffy to giggle.
He turned his head to look at her and realized he could no longer see her. His torch had gone out! Damn, he would need to find more batteries! To be honest, he was glad about the lack of light. It was better that she couldn't see the state he was in—though he wished he could see her laid out beside him. He knew that she must be just as disheveled as he was.
Fumbling, Tom reached over and put his hand over her mouth. "Shh! Someone will hear you," he scolded.
She was still giggling, but nodded and made an attempt to stop.
"Can I...stay here with you?" she asked when she'd ceased her giggles. She was still breathing hard.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he said. "Someone is bound to see you sneaking out in the morning."
"Pfft! As if! I'm stealth girl, remember?"
"What about Vin and Sophie?" he asked.
He didn't want her to leave, but it was dangerous to let her stay. Dangerous because they might be caught—and who knows the trouble that would cause for him—and dangerous because he was about ready to rip her clothing off. She'd been upset with Edmund for a little kiss, but how would she feel if he did what he was thinking about. In the past, he hadn't thought much about girls or sex—everything was always about school and magic and power! But he was a fifteen year old boy and the time he'd spent kissing her—in his bed—had left him feeling extremely hot and bothered. He was more ready than he'd ever been in his life!
"Oh. They're out," she said, drawing him out of his musings. "Surprise, surprise. I left them a note though, so..."
It was too dark in the room to see, but Tom's brows raised questioningly. "A note...telling them you were going to spend the night in my bed at the orphanage?"
"Essentially...yes," she said, nodding. "I mean, I didn't tell them I was going to sleep with you, but...um. That came out all wrong. I meant sleep in your bed...with you...like sleep sleep, not..."
Tom chuckled at her backtracking, but it set his brain straight—she had no intention of letting him go beyond a few kisses. She was driving him to distraction, but he could respect that. Sometimes Buffy seemed like she didn't have limits, but she did!
"And, they weren't home to object, so...that's on them," Buffy went on.
Tom chuckled again. "I want you to stay. I do. But, I don't think it's a good idea," he repeated.
In the darkness, Buffy pouted—then sat up. "Okay. This has been fun, but...I'd better go then."
On his narrow bed, which was pushed up against the wall, she attempted to climb out—not an easy feat on such a cramped space—but Tom pulled her back down.
"I said it's not a good idea if you stay...not that you can't," he whispered, kissing her again. "You shouldn't stay, but...I want you to."
Quickly lost in his kisses, Buffy relaxed into his arms.
~oOo~
In the morning they were awakened by a not so gentle knocking on the door, both of them sitting bolt upright—and Tom falling onto the floor.
Tangled in the blanket that he'd taken with him, he struggled to get up. Once on his feet, he glanced around—feeling somewhat disoriented, because he couldn't see a thing. It took a few moments before he realized his blackout curtains were still closed. Usually, the last thing he did before getting into bed each night was pull his curtains open, so that he didn't wake up to complete darkness in the morning.
Turning, he took the two steps to the window and wrenched them open, then blinked at the bright light and quickly shifted away from the window.
Then he saw Buffy and blinked in surprise. He'd forgotten about her.
Groggily, Buffy pushed at her sleep-tousled hair, then smiled up at him. "Hey," she whispered.
Tom just stared down at her—she was covered by his sheet and looked a bit confused—neither of them had meant to sleep so long.
The doorknob jiggled. Someone was trying to open the door.
"Tom Riddle! Open the door this instant!" came Mrs Cole's voice from the other side.
Blinking, Buffy glanced around, then scrambled to get up—then blushed. Tom was standing, shirtless now. He'd opened his wardrobe and had pulled out a clean shirt and was putting it on.
"Just a moment, Mrs Cole," he called out. "I'm dressing."
"What should I do?" Buffy hissed.
"Apparate home?" he said.
Buffy made a face. "Ha-ha! Funny," she said, on her feet now. "Everyone thinks they're a comedian."
He grinned at her as he buttoned up his shirt.
Buffy looked around, then got down on her hands and knees—and then onto her stomach and slid herself under his bed—then watched him walk to the door. But it wouldn't open.
"Tom!" Mrs Cole shouted. "Open up! Now!"
"The door is stuck, Mrs Cole," he called out. "Hold on." He glanced at Buffy—she was peeking out from under the bed. She'd pulled out her wand and gave it a wave, then hid herself again.
For another few seconds Tom pretended to struggle with the door, then yanked it open. "Sorry, Mrs Cole," he said immediately. "The door was jammed. I noticed it was stuck last night...when I tried to leave the room to use the toilet. I didn't want to wake anyone by trying to get out."
Mrs Cole frowned up at him, then looked behind him into the room, scanning the area to make sure nothing was amiss. Everything seemed in order, except his bed—which was a mess! His sheets were twisted around on top and his blanket lay half on and half off the bed—his pillow on the floor.
"Were you talking to yourself in here?" she asked him.
Tom frowned. "I...er...I suppose I was. I fell out of bed when you knocked on the door." Again, not a lie.
Mrs Cole harrumphed—then looked behind him again. "Your bed needs making," she said, stating the obvious.
Tom nodded. "Yes. I will do it immediately," he said.
Mrs Cole hmm'd. "You've missed breakfast again."
He nodded again. "I didn't sleep well last night, Mrs Cole," he lied. "I suppose I overslept." At least the last part was true.
Mrs Cole shook her head. "You were on cleaning duty this morning after breakfast. I've had to give that chore to someone else. I'm afraid you'll need to do something else. The bathrooms on this floor need cleaning. You can do that instead."
Tom nodded. "That's fine, Mrs Cole. Again, I'm sorry."
Mrs Cole harrumphed, then walked away—and Tom closed the door to his room.
"I might be late getting to Vin and Sophie's house today," he told Buffy as she slid out from underneath his bed. "I have the bathrooms to clean." He grimaced. He hated cleaning bathrooms—Muggle children were disgusting creatures!
Buffy grinned. "I'll leave you my secondhand wand. You can use magic and be finished in no time at all," she suggested.
Tom frowned—then shrugged. It was a good idea.
Quickly, they righted his room and then set out—Buffy to sneak out and him to get started on his chores, so he could get out of Wools for the day!
~oOo~
Thank you to SevenMagic, Ailsam, Sharie, keshkreature, vampygal, Diane, normanK, haldirrocks, JediKnight, Draconis, Crossfire, Bren, Adria, KirscheCherise, Chrysicat, GuyB, Monster King, Last Divine Shadow, and chao-hellsing for posting comments/reviews for C54.
Double thanks to those of you who posted multiple comments/reviews.
And TRIPLE thanks to the person (you know who you are) who posts comments on all three sites that I've posted this.
I deeply appreciate ALL the kind words from everyone and hope you're still enjoying this very slowly progressing story. Haha. I also want to encourage those of you who are reading, but not commenting to say hello and to get involved. It has been pointed out to me (several times) that writers should write for themselves, but we post for the readers. We want—and need—to hear from you! Thank you!