Chapter 72
“Hi! I’m here to pick up Drusilla,” said Andrew.
“Sure, kid. She’s expecting you. Come on in. I’ll let her know your here,” said Faith as she stepped aside, allowing Andrew to enter.
Andrew sat on the sofa in the living room and waited. About five minutes later a thin, fragile looking woman entered. Andrew stood as she walked into the room; her pale skin and large doe-like eyes struck him.
“Drusilla?” he asked.
“Yes,” Dru said as she walked up to him and gave him a quick hug. “You must be Andrew. I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been cooped up here since I’ve moved in! I can’t wait to get out and about. Where are we going?”
“Well, I was up really late last night working on a film project for school. I lost a bunch of editing changes on Wednesday and I have to redo them. I actually just woke up about an hour ago. How about we stop by the Espresso Pump for coffee and then I can show you around the Campus?” suggested Andrew.
“Sounds good. I’d love to see what you’re working on,” said Drusilla as they walked to Andrew’s Jeep.
“Really? That’s so cool. Maybe we can stop by the editing lab and I can show you,” he offered.
Buffy walked into the living room of the guesthouse. Wes and William were leaning over a set of blueprints that had been spread out on the coffee table, “Well,” said Wes. “I think that about does it. Now it’s just a matter of choosing a vendor, getting all of the supplies, and then of course there’s the installation.”
“Here’s a list of local companies we might be able to sub-contract installation out to. Why don’t you start screening them, if we can use someone local it will save on time and expense,” suggested William.
“Do you care who we use for a vendor?” asked Wes.
“Nope. Hey, luv,” have enough lounging by the pool?
“I’m bored just laying around by the pool,” said Buffy, listlessly, as she sat down next to William on the sofa.
William wrapped his arm around her and gave her a little squeeze before turning his attention back to the task at hand. “Can you think of anything that might make it more enjoyable?” he asked absently, “They haven’t finished installing the speakers yet, so we can’t pipe in music. But, I have a portable radio. Or, maybe you could pick out a book or magazine-” William started to suggest.
“How about a pool boy…with cut abs… named Carlos? He could bring me fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them and slather me up with sunscreen?” asked Buffy.
“Someone’s not getting enough attention,” sang Wes just as the phone rang. “I’ll get it.”
“No. No pool boys with cut abs. If we ever find ourselves in need of a pool boy he will most assuredly be at least forty, significantly over-weight, smell bad and…and love bowling. And, even then there will be no slathering of any kind,” clarified William.
“Poo!” said Buffy with a pout.
“You know, this is not a good sign. We’re not even married yet and you have roving eyes? What am I going to do with you?” asked William, giving her his full attention.
“I don’t really want Carlos, the pool boy. I’m just trying to get your attention,” she admitted as she leaned forward and kissed him.
“I actually had plans to knock off a bit early tonight. There’s an errand we need to run, then we could do dinner. Do you think you want to eat in or go out?” asked William.
“How about we bring back Chinese and a movie?” suggested Buffy.
“Whatever you want. Your wish is my command,” said William as he stood up and gallantly bowed.
“But, no Carlos?” she confirmed as she too stood up and walked over to him.
“No Carlos!” he said, turning her around and swatting her on the behind. “Now go make yourself scarce for a bit longer. I’ll be finished up by 4:00 and we’re going to have to leave then to go run our errand.”
“What’s the errand?” asked Buffy as she started to walk towards the kitchen to fix herself a little lunch.
As William once again returned his attention to the blue prints he said, smiling, “Got to see a man, about a ring, for a girl.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind hanging out with me in the film lab, Dru?” asked Andrew.
“Don’t mind a bit,” said Dru as he held open the door for her so that she could enter. Drusilla walked into the room. Although there were enough work stations to accommodate a dozen students there were only two others in the room.
“Warren, Jonathon, this is Drusilla,” introduced Andrew.
“Hello, boys!” said Drusilla, as she rested one hand on her hip and tossed her hair over her shoulder.
“I’m Warren,” said the taller of the two standing up and extending his hand to shake hers. When he took her hand in his, he used the opportunity to trace a little circle on the back of her hand with his thumb.
Drusilla pulled her hand away, turned around, and while making a face at Andrew surreptitiously wiped the back of her hand off. “Drusilla’s going to hang out here for a bit while I work on recovering the editing changes that we lost last night, if that’s okay with you guys.”
“Fine by me,” said Jonathon. “Hey, maybe you can give me your opinion here. I’m working on the sound. Trying to find that one, perfect, blood-curdling scream. I’ve narrowed it down to three.”
“Oooo, sounds like great fun!” said Drusilla enthusiastically as she pulled up a chair alongside Jonathon. “Why is she screaming?”
“It’s a commercial for frozen piecrust,” interrupted Warren. First she has this experience of serving a pie to guests and the crust is so tough that no one can eat it. Then we cut to her preparing for her next dinner party. She’s all disheveled, covered in flour, and she opens the oven-door to take out the piecrust. Only the bottom of the crust is all poofed up…she let’s out a scream of frustration as she tosses it onto the counter alongside about two dozen other failures. Suddenly an Angel appears with a box of “Perfection Frozen Piecrusts.” Next, we see her all dressed up and serving the perfect pie to a table full of dinner guests. As they bite into it and go “mmmm” you see across the bottom, “Perfection Frozen Piecrusts…perfect…every time. Let me show you what we’ve done so far.”
Drusilla looked between Andrew, Warren and Jonathon. They all seemed quite pleased with themselves. She blinked, then turned to Andrew and said, “Oh, that’s just bloody awful! Would that make you want to go out and buy that piecrust?”
“No, but I don’t make pies,” said Andrew sheepishly.
“But, does it even make you want to make a pie?” asked Drusilla.
“I guess not,” said Andrew.
“But it makes me hungry for a pie…that piece at the end…” Warren trailed off.
“Who was that woman, anyways,” asked Drusilla.
“My mother,” said Jonathon, “she was in the drama club in high school. She stared in South Pacific she was one of the girls who sang ‘I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair. I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair’….”
“I don’t believe I know that one,” said Drusilla.
“She’s never seen Star War’s either,” interrupted Andrew.
“No!” shouted Warren and Jonathon simultaneously.
“Try to focus. Work with me!” pleaded Dru. “What’s guaranteed to grab someone’s attention and sell things?”
The three boys began to think, simultaneously. “Gift with purchase?” blurted out Warren.
“A voice over by Patrick Stewart!” suggested Andrew. “He’s got a great voice. But we’ll never get him. Hey! Your brother Spike has a hot voice, think we could get him to say ‘Perfection Frozen Piecrusts…perfect…every time’?”
“Are you all on some kind of medication?” asked Drusilla curiously.
“Wait, I know!” announced Jonathon proudly, “It’s sex!”
“Yes!” said Drusilla clapping happily. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! I’ll help you with your project and I’ll learn a few things in the process!”
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Chapter 73
“Are you sure you don’t mind stopping by to pick up Drusilla?” asked William for the third time.
“Not at all. I have to drive by the campus on the way to my hotel anyways,” said Wes. “You told her 6:00 PM?”
“Yeah. We’ve got 7:30 dinner reservations at Mona Lisa’s. Didn’t count on the flight getting in late,” said William as he and Buffy exited the car.
“No problem. You two freshen up. It’s 5:30 now. That gives me plenty of time. How about we just meet you at the restaurant?” suggested Wes.
“That sounds like a good idea,” weighed in Buffy.
“See you there, then,” said Wes as he put the car in gear and backed out of Buffy’s driveway.
“God, Dru, this stuff is awesome!” said Warren as he scanned through the various film clips.
“And I have so found the perfect track mix to run behind it, sexy clarinet with barely perceptible gasps, sighs and even a few moans,” added Jonathon.
“Are you sure we don’t need a voice-over, there at the end?” asked Andrew for what felt like the hundredth time.
“No,” shouted the other three.
“Just…asking,” he said. “We do need to re-shoot the foot up the pant-leg shot. It was too dark by then in that house last night. I just couldn’t get the light right.”
“Can we just do it here?” asked Jonathon.
“It was a tight shot,” said Andrew, thinking out loud, “I think we could just shoot it against a black backdrop with low lighting.”
“Let’s do it!” agreed Warren. “Dru, you still have the silk robe and high heels?”
“Yeah, in my back pack. You boys turn around and I’ll undress,” directed Dru.
“I’m worried about how her skin is going to look,” said Jonathon. “Last night she covered herself with oil so that it would glisten.”
“I have some baby oil in the glove-box of my car,” offered Andrew.
“I really didn’t need to know that,” said Warren.
“I’m going to go change back into the dress pants that I had on last night,” said Jonathon as he grabbed his car keys and started to head out the door.
“I’ll…just…get the oil,” mumbled Andrew, softly.
Twenty minutes later they had finished shooting the scene and Andrew had uploaded it onto the clipboard. “Warren? Go ahead add it, will you? I’m gonna put the camera equipment away,” said Andrew.
“Anyone mind if I turn the radio on? If I don’t hear something else soon I’m going be stuck having that one track that I’ve been working on all day running around in my head forever,” said Jonathon.
“Go ahead,” said Andrew.
“I don’t care,” added Warren.
“Me either,” said Dru as she continued to look over Warren’s shoulder. “I’ve got to be going soon. Spike will be here at 6:00 to pick me up.”
“You’ve got a good twenty minutes to go. Hey, maybe you can see the finished product before you leave,” suggested Jonathon as he turned on the radio.
The opening chords of Unwell began to play. As Dru leaned behind Warren, holding onto the back of his chair, Jonathon noticed instantly that she couldn’t help but begin to sway slightly to the music. As Rob Thomas’ smooth voice Drusilla tilted her head back slightly and began to move it from side to side, the feel of the music running through she began to hum along.
All day staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall
All night hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep
Because tomorrow might be good for something
Hold on
Feeling like I'm headed for a breakdown
And I don't know why
As the chorus started and the tempo picked up Jonathon turned up the volume. Drusilla’s hips were now sashaying back and forth in time to the music.
But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be...me
Drusilla’s hands ran slowly up the curves of her body over her neck, and lifted up the back of her hair. Andrew and Jonathon were both totally and complete fixated on the dark, uninhibited beauty. But no one in the room was as enthralled as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce who stood, breathless, outside the doorway of the film lab. He had arrived early and stood, mouth agape, as he watched Drusilla dance, through the doors glass window, like a siren in short silk robe and black high- heeled shoes.
I'm talking to myself in public
Dodging glances on the train
And I know, I know they've all been talking about me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me
Out of all the hours thinking
Somehow I've lost my mind
As the final chorus started Jonathon took the volume up another notch, catching Warren’s attention as well. By now Drusilla was completely consumed. The silk robe had seductively slipped off one shoulder as she tossed her long raven black hair wildly about, her lean body gyrating in carefree celebration.
But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
I've been talking in my sleep
Pretty soon they'll come to get me
Yeah, they're taking me away
But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be
Yeah, how I used to be
How I used to be
Well, I'm just a little unwell
How I used to be
How I used to be
I'm just a little unwell
The boys clapped and whistled as the song ended. Drusilla laughed, “Okay, show’s over. Turn around.”
Warren, Jonathon and Andrew obediently turned their back on her as they once again began to attend to the computer. Wesley took a short step back into the darkness of the hall. He knew he, too, should have turned around. A gentleman would have turned around, and he was a gentleman. But, somehow he couldn’t move. He watched, his mouth dry as she untied sash of her robe and slid it off her shoulders. Her back was to him. She wore only black-laced bra and knickers underneath. The black was striking against her pale skin. She stepped out of her high-heeled shoes, and then bent forward to pick up her backpack. Wesley abruptly turned around and moved over to the wall adjacent to the door. He leaned up against the wall and tried to collect himself, to clear his mind of the sensual images, and to rid his body of his now raging hard-on.
Ten minutes later, just as Warren was adding the final touches there was a knock at the door and the door opened.
“Drusilla? Spike sent me. Are you ready?” asked Wesley.
“Oh! Hello, Wes. Yes, I’m all set,” said Drusilla picking up her bag.
“Hey,” said Andrew. “Want to show him the commercial?”
“Oh,” said Dru, casually as she walked over to the door, “I think he’s seen enough for now. We’ve got to run. e-mail it to the address I gave you. Spike added me to his account a long time ago so we could stay in touch…the address is still good. I can show Wes later.”
“We have to swing by my place first. Hope that’s alright,” said Wes, stretching his neck. “I wanted to take a quick shower and change before dinner. It won’t take long.”
“Your neck bothering you?” asked Drusilla.
“Yeah. Headache,” said Wesley as he led her into the car.
“A long, hot shower and some pain reliever should help,” Drusilla as she climbed in and he walked around to do likewise. “Take as long as you need.”
Drusilla sat, comfortably on the bed in Wesley’s hotel room, watching an old re-run of the Brady Bunch, “insipid show,” she thought as she heard the shower turn off. Drusilla turned off the television and as a smile formed on her lips she walked, slowly, over towards the bathroom door. Right on cue she heard the shattering of glass followed by Wesley yelling, “Bloody, hell!”
Drusilla turned the knob and quickly opened the door. Wesley stood in the still steamy bathroom, a towel wrapped casually around his waist. He had filled the bathroom sink up with water so that he could shave, and then decided he would take the aspirin. The water glass, wet with condensation, slipped from his hand, shattering on the edge of the sink. He had managed to cut both his thumb and forefinger picking up a piece of broken glass.
“Are you okay?” asked Drusilla.
“No, I’m a complete idiot,” said Wesley, now picking the pieces of glass up off the sink with his left hand and dropping them into the trash.
“Here, let me help you,” said Drusilla, “you’re barefoot. Don’t move.”
Wesley stood, frozen in place, while Drusilla picked up all of the remaining glass shards and tossed them into the trash. She then handed him two aspirin, filled the second glass with water and handed it to Wesley. After swallowing the pills he softly said, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she responded as she climbed up onto the bathroom vanity, positioning herself between him and the sink. “Let me see your hand.”
“You don’t need to-” he started to say as Drusilla reached down and grasped his wrist, bringing it slowly up so that she could examine his cuts.
Wesley saw her lick her lips as she looked at the beads of blood that had seeped from his two cuts. “They should be cleaned,” he said, doing his best to think of the mundane and not Drusilla’s lips.
“Yes,” she agreed as she opened her mouth and inserted first his thumb, then his forefinger. After sucking hard once on each digit she began to lap at his wounded fingers like a cat.
“I was rather thinking of soap and water,” said Wesley, nervously as he desperately tried to keep his arousal in check.
“I like this idea,” purred Dru. “I like you.”
“Drusilla,” said Wesley pulling his hand away and moving around her just enough to grab the soap and wash it off in the water. “You shouldn’t expose yourself to someone’s blood. It could be dangerous. It could be tainted. I think I’ll give up on shaving for tonight,” Wesley said as he dried his hand off with a washcloth and applied pressure. Within a minute the wounds had started to clot and the bleeding considerable slowed.
“I need to get dressed,” said Wesley, awkwardly.
“Pity,” said Drusilla, not moving.
“Would you mind terribly much waiting out there,” he said, indicating the bedroom with a tilt of his head.
“I know that you watched me,” she responded, softly. “I know that you likedwatching me. You did like what you saw. Didn’t you, Wes?” whispered Dru.
“Yes,” answered Wes, shakily. “I’m sorry, Drusilla, it was wrong of me. I did turn away.”
“Just not right away,” added Dru.
“No,” admitted Wes, ashamed “not right away. How can I make it up to you?”
“You want to make it up to me?” asked Drusilla, truly touched.
“If I can,” said Wes, sincerely.
“Wes?” she asked.
“Yes,” he responded.
“Don’t…turn…away,” commanded Drusilla as she slowly tilted her head to the side and softly brushed her lips across his.
Wesley couldn’t believe this was happening. Drusilla was sitting in front of him, her legs open, her arms curled around his biceps, pulling him in closer to her. He wanted nothing more than to thread his hands through her hair and to deepen this kiss. That was a lie. He wanted more than that, much, much, more than that. He moaned, involuntarily at the thought and Drusilla slipped her tongue inside his mouth. She slowly caressed his tongue with hers, keeping the pace gentle and languid. As the kiss broke off Drusilla leaned her forehead against his and said, “So, that’s what a kiss feels like.”
“You’ve never been kissed?” asked Wesley, astonished.
“My lips have been kissed. But no one has ever kissed…me. Thank you,” she said, her eyes misting over.
“May I kiss you again, sometime?” Wesley blurted out. “No, what I mean to say is, I’d like to get to know you better-”
“I’d like that too. Hey, let’s pretend this is a date tonight. I’ve never had one. You can drive me home and then I can give you a good night kiss,” suggested Dru.
“Then what?” asked Wesley.
“Then you can ask me out for a proper date,” said Dru, sliding off the counter.
“I’d like that,” responded Wes.
“Don’t go making rash decisions now, I could be a terrible bore and by the end of the evening you might just be aching to get ride of me,” said Drusilla, smiling as she walked out of the bathroom and closed the door to allow him to dress in privacy.
Wesley looked down at his growing erection and mumbled to himself, “Yeah, I’m likely to be aching by the end of the evening, but not from boredom.”
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Chapter 74
Buffy took a seat in the lobby of the Hotel Del Coronado and watched William stand in line at the reservation desk. The interior of the hotel was rich and beautiful. The lobby bustled with guests and tourists. This wasn’t the first time she had been to the Del. Angel had brought her here once before. As a matter-of-fact she thought that they had conceived their child here. Buffy looked down at her engagement ring. That other life now felt like so long ago.
She loved the rings they had chosen. William had taken her over to David’s in St. Helena. They had met with David Clark, the owner/designer and she quickly settled on the very first ring that he showed them. The simplicity and brilliance of it struck her. She twisted it a bit on her finger and watched the lights play off of the diamond. It was a single stone of 1.62 ct in a Platinum tension setting. David assured them that the setting was perfectly safe, relying on pressure instead of traditional prongs to hold the diamond in place. The band seemed to be embracing the diamond after catching it in mid air. The stone itself looked as if it were floating in defiance of gravity. They had purchased plain platinum bands along with it.
“Hey, watch where you point that thing. You could blind someone!” teased William.
“I don’t think there’s any danger of that,” laughed Buffy, standing up. “But, I do believe it possess magic hypnotizing powers.” Buffy formed a fist and then slowly made a circle with her hand in front of William’s face, “Take me to my room and make love to me,” she said in a trance-like voice.
William wasted no time grabbing her wrist and pulling her into the antique birdcage elevator. Although the controls were now automated, there was still an elevator operator inside who dutifully took them up to their second floor junior suite. Their luggage had already arrived. The room characterized the late 1800’s in its charm. The 420 square foot space was relatively small by modern standards, but hugely spacious by Victorian ones. In addition to the king-sized bed, there was a small sitting area that included an overstuffed chair and couch. By far the best feature, however, was the balcony that was accessible through a set of French doors. The view of the Pacific Ocean was beautiful.
Buffy immediately proceeded through to the outside. She leaned over the railing and shading her eyes with her hands looked out to see the last few sunbathers on the beach, some children making sand castles, a couple of lovers strolling hand and hand, and a group of young surfers running into the ocean to catch the last waves of the day. She heard a pop and turned around.
“Seems Quentin sent us a bottle of champagne,” said William. “Think a sip for a toast would be okay?”
“Absolutely,” agreed Buffy, reaching out to accept the half-filled glass.
“To Lorraine,” he said, raising his glass “the best boss in the world.”
“And, to finding a house,” added Buffy raising hers, and then taking a sip of the champagne.
“You really liked it, didn’t you?” asked William.
“I LOVED it! But do you think we’ll get it?” asked Buffy setting her glass down.
“Oh, we can get it. Question is, do we want to spend more than it’s worth to get it?” asked William.
“No,” said Buffy. “I don’t want to be foolish. The real estate market is so crazy here as it is. Everything already seems so outrageously expensive. But, I love the old Craftsman architecture and the neighborhood is perfect.”
“It needs a little work. The bathrooms and kitchen need upgrades,” said William, thinking out loud.
“That’s true,” said Buffy. “I really loved the stained glass windows that were on either side of the fire place. Oh, and the wood paneling in the dining room? Gorgeous.”
“But it needs refinishing, as do the hardwood floors. So,” concluded William, “we’re going to make an offer?”
Buffy smiled and nodded enthusiastically. William reached into his pocket and took out his wallet to extract the business card of the listing agent. He dialed her on his cell phone and left her a message. “There,” he said, “as soon as she gets back to us with a fax number we can send over an offer.”
“Just like that?” asked Buffy.
“Just like that,” answered William as he picked up the note that had accompanied the champagne. “Bugger! I don’t believe it-” gasped William.
“What?” asked Buffy feeling slightly alarmed.
William handed her the note, which read:
Spike,
Hope that you opened the Champagne before you started to read this. The bad news is that Darla insisted on accompanying me to the states and I didn’t have the heart to refuse her. She and Angel are both here, actually. You should also know that I’ve told them that you are my son. My time may be short and I have no desire to withhold the truth any longer. I’m in the process of finishing up some changes to my will. That alone seems to have had quite a positive influence on Darla’s behavior. (Angel had convinced me that sedating her, in light of the pregnancy, was not a good idea. This has proven to be quite a successful alternative.) Wesley informed me about the attack the other night, when he called to confirm that he would be working for you effective immediately. I had the identity of those blighters run and made a call to their superiors. I let them know that I was certain there must have been some terrible mistake and all that rot. There should be no further occurrences of that nature. I will see you in the Crown Room for dinner at 7:00. Enjoy the ’96 Cristal-my sommelier described it as “a wine of great purity, the perfect blend of power and finesse.” Thought it sounded like you.
Quentin
“So,” said William, nervously, “I can call the front desk, have someone come up and get our luggage. We can be back in Sunnydale in an hour.”
“That’s ridiculous, you came to see your father and that’s what we’re going to do,” affirmed Buffy.
“But,” William started, looking totally confused, “you did read the part about Darla and Angel being here?”
“I saw Angel in London, while you were away. I was able to obtain closure. It’ll be fine,” assured Buffy.
“Closure?” asked William.
“Yup,” said Buffy.
“Did he apologize?” William asked, incredulous.
“Ah, that would be no. Angel was an ass,” said Buffy.
“I don’t understand,” responded William, confused.
“He was an ass, made a pass at me, in the elevator, at the Oriental Mandarin. I set him straight. We came to an understanding,” explained Buffy.
“You came to an understanding? What does Angel understand, exactly?” asked William.
“That a knee to the groin is really painful. He might have grasped more of what I was trying to explain, but I’m not sure. It was hard to tell, what with all the girlish screaming. He did get that I’m not his anymore and never will be again, that I’m sure of,” concluded Buffy as she walked over to William and wrapped her arms around his neck.
William winced, involuntarily. “You did that?”
“Well, he deserved it!” said Buffy.
“Not saying he didn’t…ouch,” said William.
“Stop thinking about Angel. You’re supposed to me making sweet love to me,” Buffy reminded him as she nuzzled into his chest.
“You sure it’s alright?” asked William with caution.
“No more spotting,” said Buffy. “Think we can do slow and gentle? I’ve missed you, the past few days. What are we going to do when we have to abstain?”
“We’ll manage, we’ll be creative, we’ll keep reminding ourselves that we have a lifetime ahead of us,” said William as he softly caressed her face and leaned in for a kiss. Right before his lips met hers he whispered, “And, I definitely can do slow and gentle.”
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Chapter 75
William and Buffy walked hand in hand into the Crown Room for dinner. Buffy was wearing a simple black silk dress that was sleeveless and cut on the bias so that it flowed gracefully over her body. William wore a black suit with a dove gray shirt and black silk tie. The hostess led the two of them over to the table and after quickly shaking Angel’s hand, William pulled out a chair for Buffy. “How have you been, Darla?” asked Buffy in an attempt to be polite.
“She’s talking to me,” said Darla, looking at Angel.
“I know,” said William as he bent over and placed a quick kiss on the side of Buffy’s neck, “you’ll have to excuse her. I keep telling her that all she has to do is look pretty…but she just keeps trying to over-achieve.”
Darla glared at William, “And you! I don’t know what you’re trying to pull. Making Daddy believe…Oh, I need a drink or I’m going to scream!” Darla pushed her chair back and walked away from the table in search of the waiter.
“And boy, can she scream,” said Angel as he tiredly rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m telling you, it’s constant these days, and I don’t know what to do. Then Quentin drops this on her.”
“Why don’t you rip her lungs out?” suggested William wryly. “Might make an impression. Certainly would impede her ability to scream.”
“Lacks poetry,” responded Angel.
“It doesn’t have to,” suggested William, “what rhymes with lungs?”
Buffy backhanded William on his arm and gave him a reproachful look, “I’m just teasing,” he defended. “He knows she’s bloody impossible.”
“That I do,” confirmed Angel as he picked up his scotch and drained the remainder of the glass. As he sat the glass down he looked softly at Buffy, “You look lovely. I always loved that dress.”
“How much have you had to drink?” asked Buffy.
“Not enough,” said Angel, forlornly.
“Well,” said William, waving over the waiter, “this is just…neat. Really! We should do this more often.”
Darla walked back over to the table carrying a martini. Buffy looked at William and raised an eyebrow. The waiter approached shortly on Darla’s heels, “Good evening, my name is James. I will be serving you this evening. It looks like you’re still waiting for someone. May I take a drink order?”
“I’ll have another scotch,” said Angel.
“Make that two,” added William.
“Club Soda with lime?” asked Buffy.
“I’ll have another of these, just in case I can’t find you later,” said Darla, holding up her glass.
Buffy leaned over and discreetly whispered to Angel, “You know she shouldn’t be drinking, right?”
“Would you please take your hand off of my husband? He doesn’t belong to you anymore,” said Darla, her voice rising.
Buffy pulled her hand quickly off of Angel’s forearm and looked momentarily panicked. “Darla,” said William firmly, with resolve as he leaned across the table, “we need to get a few things straight. I’m only going to say this once. Buffy isn’t going to take Angel away from you. We’re in love and we’re going to build a life together. We’ll be getting married soon, and we’re expecting a baby in March. For Quentin’s sake I’m proposing a clean slate. That means no sniping. Angel may be willing to put up with you’re horrid behavior, but I’m not. I’m simply not going to tolerate it. Not towards me, not towards Buffy, and not towards Quentin.”
William held his hand up to get the waiter’s attention and when the waiter came to the table he ordered another club soda for Darla.
“You’re despicable!” hissed Darla quietly as she reached for her martini.
William reached across the table and pulled her two drinks out of reach, “Why are you drinking?” he asked her, a note of caring slipping into his voice.
“I like to drink!” she said indignantly. “It makes things less…annoying.”
“But you were clean,” he responded, “last time I saw you. Remember? Remember what we went through to get you there, Darla. Plus, you know it’s not good for the baby.”
“You’re not my protector anymore, Spike. Need I remind you, you resigned from that post,” Darla responded, resentment evident in her voice.
“Old habits are hard to break,” said William, smiling, as he picked up his menu. “Besides, someone’s got to reign you in.”
“You don’t have the stones,” said Darla, contemptuously.
“He’s got the stones. He’s also got the power,” said Quentin as he tossed a thick envelop in William’s direction. “Good evening, all. Sorry I was delayed.”
Buffy turned around in her chair to get a good look at the man standing behind her. As she did he reached out for her hand, “Stand up! Let me get a good look at you.”
Buffy allowed him to help her pull out her chair and she stood up to face him for what felt initially like some kind of inspection. He was of a little more than average height, about 5’11”, thin, his hair was dark with a fair amount of gray mixed in. He had it slicked back, like William sometimes wore his. His face was rounder, softer, than William’s. He wore glasses, which seemed to make his bright blue eyes even bigger. He was dressed meticulously in a navy blue suit, cobalt blue shirt, and a blue and gold tie. Despite the outward appearance, Buffy could see that his face was drawn, tired… weary. He held Buffy’s arms out and studied her for a moment. “Exquisite!” he proclaimed. “Quite solid! Have a seat,” he said as he held out her chair.
“Celebrating tonight, William?” said Quentin, eyeing the three drinks that sat in front of his son.
“Only the scotch is mine,” said William, standing to shake Quentin’s hand.
“I’ll rescue this, then,” said Quentin as he picked up the martini.
“So? What did I miss?” he asked, looking at Buffy.
All eyes turned to Buffy, “Well,” she started, “William and I were just telling Darla and Angel that we’re expecting in March.”
“And?” Quentin coaxed as he lifted her hand and studied her ring.
“And-and we’re going to be getting married,” Buffy added, getting slightly nervous.
“And?” asked Quentin, still holding her hand while looking intently into Buffy’s green eyes and smiling.
“And, he was expressing concern about Darla’s drinking,” she confessed. “He had just taken her drinks away before you walked up.”
“There is nothing wrong with my having a drink every now and then, is there Angel?” asked Darla.
Angel was silent as he looked into his glass of scotch, and then pushed it away.
“Well,” said William, cheerfully as he clapped his hands together, “here we are, all together, bloody unbelievable! Don’t you think so, sis? When was the last time we all got to sit down and enjoy a nice meal together, as a family?”
“Never,” replied Darla, puzzled, “and don’t call me that! What is that anyways?” she asked William, pointing at the envelope that her father had tossed to him.
As William scanned the documents in front of him a look of confusion, then horror passed over his face. “Look, this isn’t nec-”
“It most certainly is. I had a close call. We need to be practical. You’re my choice. I know that I can trust you, even to take care of Darla and Angel,” finished Quentin as he took a sip of his scotch.
“But-” started William.
Quentin held up his hand and cut him off. He turned to Darla and gently said, “Spike is in charge, should anything happen to me. He will be the one making decisions about my healthcare. I worry that you won’t be able to abide by my wishes. I love you, Darla, but I can’t trust that you will put your own needs aside in this matter. I trust that Spike will make sure that your interests are protected. You too, know that is true. It’s that very quality of nobleness in him that annoys you so much. Because it prevents you from manipulating him like you do all of the others. I’ve given him permission to act on my behalf in all matters of business. There is little left actively going on at this point. I’ve liquidated almost everything. The rest should be finished by the end of this quarter. Then, if I’m still well enough, I will be looking at reinvestment and development of a charitable foundation. My grandchildren will have a different life, unburdened by the Master’s legacy. They will have a choice. You will have a choice. There’s nothing I can do about the past, about the way the Master’s empire was built. But, I can set expectations for the future face of our organization.”
“Daddy!” Darla whispered in horror as she reached for his hand, “What, exactly, have you done?”
“Something I should have done a long, long time ago,” he said as he looked over at William.
“But? Daddy! This is crazy-” pleaded Darla.
“No, I’m setting things right,” said Quentin taking her hand in his.
“But I like things the way they are,” begged Darla her eyes now glistening with tears.
“No you don’t,” said Quentin, candidly, “or you wouldn’t have become so reliant on drugs and alcohol to escape. You’ve been unhappy for a long time. You like the money and the power,” observed Quentin. “But we both know that it’s come at a price; expectations, obligations, the constant hypervigilance, the fear of getting caught, or killed. I don’t want it anymore and I certainly don’t want it for you. You will not dissuade me in this, Darla. The matter is closed. Now, no more questions tonight. I find I am tiring. It’s been a long day.”
The waiter returned with a club soda for Darla. As it was set before her Quentin raise his glass and chuckled before announcing, “I wish to make a toast!”
Everyone looked at him as they raised their glasses, “To family,” he said simply.
“To family,” they repeated, looking around at one another.
“Well, Liam…all those times, growing up that we wished for some nice, normal family to adopt us?” said William looking around the table.
The two of them burst into laughter. Soon Buffy and even Darla joined in. Quentin looked at them all, then slowly picked up his menu, so as to hide the huge smile that couldn’t help but form on his tired face.