Disclaimer: Buffy, Giles, Spike, not mine. Reagan, mine. K?

Author's note: Some dialogue taken from the episode Fool for Love. Once again hugs to my fabulous Beta Bloodytearsoflife. Feedback is very much appreciated.
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Chapter 2: Heartbreak

“I told you that this would happen,“ said Reagan sadly, as she stood in the afternoon sun that was shining through Buffy’s bedroom window.

Buffy had just sniffled and sobbed through the recounting of her morning meeting with the Council.

“Yes, you did,” sniffled Buffy.

“When are you going to tell him?”

Buffy raised her head up off her friend’s bed and looked glaringly at her friend for suggesting that she would ever do what the Watcher‘s Council wanted. “I’m not! I won’t tell him. I won’t do it Reagan. It’s my life.”

“But it’s not Buffy, you are Chosen.”

“I don’t care!” she cried. “I don’t have anyone, Reagan, except you. Why can’t I try to have normal life? Don’t I deserve to have a normal life after everything that’s happened to me?”

“Angelus wants to make you his pet Buffy. He’s already killed your father, what will happen if he gets his claws into William too?”

Buffy turned her tear stained face towards her friend, unwilling to admit that Reagan was right.

“Think about it Buffy. It’s really for his own good. And your mental health. A hysterical Slayer is not an effective Slayer.”

Reagan moved towards her friend and brought out a handkerchief to dry her eyes.

“If you really care about him, let him go Buffy, to save his life.”
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Cried out and completely exhausted, Buffy forced her body through yet another one of Giles’ gruelling training sessions. It was as if she had just shut down. She answered in one word responses, she paid scant attention to her instructor and sat down at every opportunity.

Finally Giles had had enough.

“Your sulking about Mr. Fairchilde is not going to eradicate the Scourge from our shores Buffy,” said the watcher harshly.

Buffy sniffled.

“You are the Chosen One, you have no time for romantic attachments. You live in the darkness, while he lives in the sun. There can be no future for you with him, Buffy, can’t you see that?”

“How can I not see that Giles? Everyday I am told that I have to be or act a certain way. But not with him. I can be me with him. And I don’t understand why. My whole life had been intricately choreographed, first by my mother who wanted the perfect lady, now by the Council who wants the perfect slayer. I’ve been told how to act and what faults I make. Now I meet this man who likes me just the way I am. With all my faults and imperfections, he still thinks I’m perfect. He writes poetry about me Giles!”

“Sounds like a poncy git if you ask me,” murmured Giles under his breath.

Buffy didn’t hear it.

“I am a slave to the Council’s will. If I don’t do what they say, they will kill me.”

“I am afraid that is true Buffy,” Giles admitted, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want to die, Giles. But I don’t want to give him up either.”
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Misery incarnate, that was what she felt like. Forced into yet another party, forced to pretend she had a social life. Forced to keep away from the one person at these parties she liked to talk to. She had been sitting on a sofa far removed from the rest of the party.

“He’s here,” said Reagan behind her fan.

Buffy groaned.

“He’s writing poetry about you again.”

“Reagan, I beg you, please stop.”

“I am sorry Buffy, you know I love you. My father took me aside yesterday, he wants me to persuade you to break with William tonight.”

“We all are pawns in their game,” she commented, resigned.

“Sadly yes,” responded her friend, taking her hand. “I wish I could do something for you Buffy.”

“Me too.”

Reagan dropped her hand. “Do you want some punch?”

Buffy nodded.

“I’ll be back in a moment then,” said her friend.

It was only a moment; no harm could come from only a moment, right?

Buffy decided it was most definitely a wrong sort of statement to have made. For in that moment Mr. Fairchilde appeared before her.

“Cecily?” inquired Mr. Fairchilde.

Buffy turned and sighed. She didn’t want to see him now. Seeing him, meant making a decision. Seeing him meant choosing him or her life.

“Oh. Leave me alone,” she commanded and confusion quickly set in on his face.

William looked back at the other guests as a burst of laughter erupted from the other room.

“Oh, they're vulgarians. They're not like you and I.”

“You and I?” asked Buffy. That was a comforting thought. Unfortunately the image of her and William standing together against the world included assassins from the Council and the Scourge of Europe. Buffy steeled herself for what had to come next. “I'm going to ask you a very personal question and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand?”

William nodded sincerely, sitting down beside her on the couch. It broke her heart to have to say these things, but she had to make sure that he got the message.

“Your poetry, it's... they're... not written about me, are they?”

Buffy inwardly cringed. She knew that they were about her, and she had delighted in it. It showed true affection. To use his poetry against him...it was beyond cruel.

“They're about how I feel.”

“Yes, but are they about me?”

“Every syllable,” William answered drawing his back up straight and looking at her with his piercing blue eyes.

“Oh, God!” Buffy willed the tears back. It would never do to say that the Slayer cried. Even when her insides were being torn up by what she was forcing herself to do.

“Oh, I know... it's sudden and... please, if they're no good, they're only words but...
the feeling behind them... I love you, Cecily.”

He loved her! Buffy’s heart leapt at the thought. For a split second she had thoughts of taking his hand and running away from everything with him. But of course if she did that, they would find her. They would always find her.

“Please stop!” she begged as she turned away, fighting hard to keep her tears from coming to the surface.

“I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see me...”

“I do see you.” That much was certain. She saw him with perfect clarity. “That's the problem.” Buffy gulped, turning to look at him once more. “You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me.”

Unable to sit there and watch his heart break, Buffy stood and left the room. She bumped into Reagan who had gotten punch.

“I am leaving Reagan.”

“Is it done?”

Buffy nodded and burst into tears, as she fled from the party.
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The commotion of the party was such that Reagan did not immediately leave after her friend. She watched in stealth for a moment, Mr. Fairchilde’s reaction to Buffy’s declaration. It was painful to watch. She could see the inner struggle not to cry. The man, for which she had some respect due to his affection for her friend, half walked half stumbled out of the room and past Reagan.

“Mr. Fairchilde,” Reagan greeted as he past.

The man stopped and looked at her harshly. She was her friend. William straightened up, looking at Cecily’s friend. He would not give Cecily anymore fuel to fire her retched opinion of him.

“Miss Wyndham,” he greeted back, his voice only slightly wavering.

“What Miss Underwood said...She was forced, her guardians...” the girl trailed off, not completely conveying her message.

It didn’t matter though. William didn't need to hear any excuses for what Cecily said that day. Without bothering to say goodbye to Miss Wyndham or to the hostess of the party William headed out the doors in contemplation of those words that had changed his world.

“You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me,” she had said.

Beneath him. Beneath him. He had considered her an angel in a dull, cruel world, but she was just as cruel as all the others.

William walked out into the street, unable to contain this tears any longer. He thought, if only he could make it to the stables without breaking down completely he would be fine.

His thoughts turned to anger at the poem that he still held in his hand. Her poem. His sadness turned to momentary rage, and he set about tearing his poem up into bits of paper that he felt were representative of the size of the pieces of his heart.

He barely registered bumping into a trio of pedestrians.

Back at the doorway of Mrs. Sinclair’s house, Reagan watched with dread as she saw with whom William had bumped into.

Angelus, Darla and Drusilla: The Scourge of Europe.
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Locked in her sparse bedroom, Buffy sobbed her heart out. Quietly through her sobs she head a rap at her door.

“Buffy, they’re on the move,” came Giles’ voice.

Buffy looked up from her pillow and glared at the door.

“Go away!” she wailed.

“Buffy!”

“No!” she sobbed. “You make me train, you make me break his heart, you tell me where to live, whose parties to attend. I broke his heart, I won’t do it!”

“Elizabeth Cecily Underwood!”

Buffy threw open the door angrily, her face wet and puffy.

“Please Giles. I lost my family because I was the Slayer, I’ve lost William. Don’t make me die too.”

Giles paused and looked into her green eyes. She was right of course. And he hated to have to say to her what he had to.

“They are in the West End,” stated Giles. “Spotted not far from the party tonight.”

Buffy eye’s widened a bit.

“It’s an order?” she asked hesitantly. “I’m to slay Angelus?”

Giles only nodded. Buffy sniffled and nodded.

“I have a condition.”

Giles nodded. She deserved it.

“If I live I’m going to grovel at his feet and whether or not I return to his good graces, I will no longer let the Council use my feelings for him against me.”

“Agreed.”

Buffy grabbed a stake from her dresser and headed out the door. “Show me where he is.”
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The hackney cab came to a halt not a block from the party she had attended that night.

Buffy slipped from the cab only to close her eyes, allowing her slayer sense to guide her into the direction she needed to go.

It took her to a house, one she recognized as belonging to a Mrs. Janesay, a widow of considerable means. A woman she saw only three days ago.

Buffy took a deep breath and walked forward.

The house appeared normal, but if Giles said that this house was inhabited by the Scourge, and Angelus, who viciously tortured and murdered her father, because she was a Slayer, because she was to be his next pet project.

Buffy’s thoughts drifted to the creature who had been her unlikely saviour in that case, Darla. It had been Angelus’ sire that had forced him to relocate, halting his plans for the Slayer.

Somewhere in this unimposing house, were both vampires and the loony childe of the clan, Drusilla the mad.

Buffy looked down at her hand, which clutched a stake. She really did need a plan. She looked back at the cab, where her watcher watched.

Starting off to the left of the house, Buffy hiked up her long skirts and tucked one side up into the ribbon around her waist, she undid her coiffed hair and shook it loose, as she walked down the block to enter by the back of the house.

Entering the back courtyard that serviced the houses that surrounded it, Buffy focused in on the Slayer tinglies that only meant vampires.

Buffy crawled up to a cellar window and tested whether or not it was locked, when it pushed open easily, Buffy cursed her good luck. She slid into the house quietly, landing into a pile of cloths that smelled like dirty nappies.

Ewww, she thought to herself.

The whole cellar looked as if it had only just been cleaned of human excrement. Mrs. Janesay must have finally gotten around to installing a water closet, observed the Slayer, as she found her way to the stairs.

Buffy reached the top of the cellar stairs with only a minimal amount of groping in the dark. Cracking the door cautiously, she stepped on to the main floor of the house and closed the door behind her. The tinglies were coming in two directions now, meaning that Angelus wasn’t alone.

Her inner debate about which direction to take was cut short by the appearance of Madame Darla herself.

“Why isn’t it the little Slayer that Angelus is oh so fond of,” cooed the vampiress.

Buffy gulped.

“Fear, it’s a lovely smell. Let me guess, that lovely Council has sent you to take care of us again hasn’t it? Pity, I liked taunting Angelus about his failure to do to you what he did to Drusilla. Now it seems, I’ll get to kill you myself. I guess that’s a good thing, because frankly I don’t think I’d like to live with two Drusillas.”

Darla took a step towards Buffy.

“We’ve been looking out for you, you know. Where you live, what you wear, who you are friends with. I must say I liked that Reagan girl.” Darla smiled sickly. “She was yummy.”

“You are just trying to make me panic,” said Buffy at last.

“From the smell of things, my dear, it’s working.” Darla took another step forwards. “But if you don’t believe me, you will when you get to that gloried place in the sky, that all good Slayers go to, when they’ve been drained dry.”

Buffy took another step back.

“Can we get this over with?” asked Buffy flippantly. “I have things to do and other vampires to slay tonight.”

“Which vampires would they be?” asked Darla innocently.

“Would they be me now lass?” came the Irish brogue of Angelus from behind the slayer.

Buffy turned around to see her father’s killer not three inches from her.

“Ahh, gentle Elizabeth, how I have longed to hold you in my arms once again, so that I could snap your neck,” he said with a sickly smile. “Something has been bothering my mind a great deal since we first came to London though, you go by the name of Cecily here, your mother’s name, isn’t that a bit deceitful then? What will poor William say when he finds out you’ve been a naughty girl?”

“How do you know about William?” she asked scared.

“We’ve been following you,” said Darla, “I thought I’d mentioned that.”

“And now, you can join us for dinner,” said Angelus, shifting into his fangs.

Buffy pulled her stake out of her pocket and launched herself at Darla who had not yet shifted, pushing the vampiress out of the way and fleeing down the hall into the parlour of the house, where she had once taken tea with Mrs. Janesay.

“You nasty Bitch!” screamed Darla as she examined the damage to her dress. There was a large rip in the skirt.

Buffy shrugged her shoulders and prepared to fight them off, with her very life.
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tbc...
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