Buffy meandered happily through the narrow streets of Trastevere, contained in its labyrinthine alleys was the real Rome. She walked past cute, crooked apartments with laundry hanging out to dry above the street and tightly packed restaurants overflowing with music and rapid, excited chatter. This was the city she’d fantasised about when convinced that she would never live to leave Sunnydale, now it was home, for her and for Dawn, and moments like this made it all worthwhile.
The reality of living in Rome, rather than the fairytale she’d carried with her, had required more sacrifice than she’d anticipated - there is no need for money in daydreams. Crossing Pizza Santa Maria, thronged with effortlessly stylish locals, Buffy pulled self-consciously at her skeezy sweats. Getting work as a personal trainer had been surprisingly easy, for some of her clients the simple fact that Buffy was a native Los Angelino set her above her rivals. Hiring someone from arguably the most health conscious city on the planet held a certain cache amongst the bankers’ and diplomats’ wives who made up most of her clients. It covered the bills, but job satisfaction was thin on the ground. Mostly she ended up jogging slowly around the park on Gianicolo hill, listening to bored woman with problems that couldn’t be solved simply by having an endless supply of cash.
At least Dawn was thriving, she was acing school and spent most of her evenings hanging out in Testaccio mixing with students and back packers from all over the world, drawn to the nightly festival of nightclubbery and general coolness. Dawn could hold a very basic ‘hi, how are you?’ conversation in a half dozen languages, and often came home clutching email addresses of new friends. A few weeks ago she had announced that she was going to go travelling herself after school, putting off college for at least a year. Buffy had hated doing it, but she’d been forced to tell Dawn to think again because there was no money for either. With the blind confidence of an eighteen year old, Dawn remained sure that her plans would succeed. Buffy suspected that she was going to ask Giles for the money and still couldn‘t decide whether that was okay or not.
Buffy’s life didn’t just revolve around work and looking out for her sister. Last night had been amazing. She and The Immortal had strolled hand in hand beside the Trevi Fountain. At night the crowds disappeared and they had pretty much had the breath-taking sight of Neptune riding his winged chariot pulled by two vast sea horses to themselves. Its size made it imposing, then when viewed close up, the fine detail of the sculpture rendered it beautiful.
Hardly a word had passed between them, as they stood drawn to the endless, intoxicating power of the water, getting eventually soaked by the fine spray that clung to their hair and eyelashes, reflecting off the lights like diamonds. It had been swoonsome; all their dates were. Then again, The Immortal had had more than enough planning time.
‘What’s your name?’ Buffy asked when they first met. ‘I can’t keep calling you ‘The Immortal’ it makes you sound like a wrestler.’
‘I’ve had many names,’ he smiled enigmatically. ‘I’d answer to any that fell from your lips.’
So The Immortal he remained. Thinking of him now, Buffy’s mood began to darken. It was always the same, after the initial rush, dates with him always left her feeling flat. He just wasn’t real, having had centuries to perfect every aspect of his personality, The Immortal was great to be around. Yet Buffy knew there was no emotion or passion involved. Every moment they shared was a choreographed romantic wonder, but she couldn’t help thinking about how many other women had been treated to exactly the same routine before her, and how many would long after she was gone.
‘We are only alive in the present,’ The Immortal had told her. ‘And at present there is only you, my love.’
It was like being in some cheesy romance film, effortless and uplifting, however ultimately hollow and forgettable. Buffy longed to be with someone who didn’t have every moment planned, hadn’t trod the same path a thousand times before, someone she could share new experiences with. Equally important she wanted someone she could do nothing with other than just be. There was no downtime with The Immortal. Exhilarating though it was to be swept from one stunning experience to the next, just once, Buffy would’ve been as moved to see him abandon evening dress for jeans and an old t-shirt, and ditch fine-dining in favour of a greasy takeout. She was getting bored of a relationship that could never go beyond hearts and flowers.
Unlocking the door to their apartment, Buffy smiled at the sound of Dawn giggling.
'Credevo avessi detto di saper parlare italiano?'
Her sister was teasing someone.
‘'E lo parlo, è solo...er...passato un po' di tempo,’ a man’s voice hesitantly responded.
‘'Non dovresti ricordarne un po' più di così?' Dawn encouraged.
'Potrei, se tu…uh…parlassi più lentamente.’
His accent wasn’t bad, but the pronunciation was terrible.
‘Come farei con un "dumbass"?'
'Hey! Io non sono un “dumbass“. I-I could have this conversation in five languages, I’ll have you know.’
Buffy burst into the kitchen.
‘Giles! What are you doing here?’
She flung herself at him as he stood up. Giles winced as he detached himself from a rib-squeezing hug.
‘I came to brush up on my Italian.’
‘Cos you’re a total spazz at it,’ crowed Dawn triumphantly from her perch on the counter.
Her comment went totally ignored, as Buffy and Giles continued to stare at each other. He reached out and gently brushed his thumb down the line of Buffy’s cheek.
‘How are you?’ he asked softly.
Her sweats suddenly felt hot and tight.
‘Fine. I…’
Buffy was rooted to the spot, locked in place by Giles’ steady green-eyed gaze.
‘Yes?’
‘I need to shower.’
She fled, hearing Dawn mutter as she left.
‘My sister, never not weird.
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