act three, chapter nineteen: the well of love

- dangerous liaisons -

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Buffy was sitting on a well, and honestly it didn't surprise her that the Mikaelsons had one in their front yard-of course they had a centuries-old aesthetic going on. What did surprise her, though, was how fast the cold had crept into her bones.

Luckily for her, her problem was quickly solved when somebody held out his suit jacket in front of her.

"Take it." Elijah said, his voice soft like it always was when he was with her. A tone she had gotten so used to by now.

She looked up at him, slightly startled, then at the neatly folded suit jacket he was offering. It was definitely Elijah's-tailored, expensive-looking, and still carrying the subtle scent of his cologne.

Buffy hesitated for a second before reaching out and taking it. "Thanks." She muttered, slipping it around her shoulders. The warmth settled over her instantly, and not just from the fabric.

Elijah leaned beside her on the stone edge of the well, his posture perfect as always. "You looked cold." He said simply, eyes focused ahead.

"I was." She admitted. "Didn't think the cold would get to me this fast."

"You've been out here for ten minutes."

She blinked and looked at him. "You were keeping track?"

He offered a small smile. "I'm observant."

Buffy rolled her eyes lightly, but the corners of her mouth tugged up. "Or you were just watching."

"Perhaps." Elijah said, and though his tone was even, there was the faintest twinkle in his eyes as he held his hand out for her, so she could jump off the well.

Buffy stared at his outstretched hand for a heartbeat longer than she probably should've, her brain catching up to the quiet gesture. Then, with a tiny smile, she placed her hand in his and let him help her down even though the well wasn't even that high.

Even with vampire strength, Elijah guided her as if she were made of glass-careful, intentional, like she mattered more than anyone.

Once her feet were firmly on the ground, she didn't let go right away, and neither did he.

"I didn't think you'd be the type to notice how long someone sat in the cold." She said, her voice lighter than she felt.

"I notice things about you." He replied without hesitation, eyes meeting hers. "Even the small ones, but you looked like you needed some time to think."

Buffy felt her breath hitch slightly. "Well," She finally said, breaking eye contact as she hugged his jacket a little closer, "you might want to stop watching me. People will think you like me."

"Let them. They wouldn't be lying." Elijah said.

Buffy blinked, her breath caught with surprise. Elijah's words lingered in the air above  them like a secret.

The night was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves on the ground and the distant hum of music of the party inside, but it all felt muffled now-like the only thing keeping her to this moment was him.

Elijah's eyes never left hers. There was no hesitation in his expression. Not fear. Just care... for her and her alone. The kind of careful restraint only someone like Elijah could carry so effortlessly.

"I have lived many lifetimes." He said softly, his voice as steady as ever. "I have witnessed empires rise and fall. I've stood in rooms filled with royalty, scholars, and poets alike. And yet—" He paused, and Buffy's heart skipped. "—very few have made me question my composure the way you do."

Buffy's lips parted slightly, the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding finally leaving her lungs. Her fingers tightened around the lapel of the jacket draped over her shoulders—his jacket. "Elijah." She whispered, but it was all she could manage.

He stepped closer, just enough for her to feel his presence completely. His hand, gentle and warm, lifted to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The brush of his fingers sent a chill down her spine, and yet somehow, she didn't feel cold anymore.

"I would never act on impulse." He murmured, his thumb lightly grazing her cheek. "But you make it... exceptionally difficult to remain a gentleman."

Buffy's breath hitched, her eyes fixed on his. "Then don't." She whispered.

A faint, knowing smile tugged at his lips. "Just this once." He said, almost more to himself than to her. And then he leaned in-slowly, deliberately, giving her every chance to stop him. But Buffy didn't move. Didn't push him away. She didn't want to. Her eyes fluttered closed just as his lips met hers.

The kiss was everything she didn't expect it to be and everything she needed all at once-gentle but sure, respectful but full of emotion he'd never quite said out loud to her. It was the kind of kiss that made time feel irrelevant, the kind that came after long nights of lingering glances.

When they pulled apart after a while, barely inches between them, Buffy's heart was pounding fast in her chest. "Okay." She breathed, eyes still closed for a second. "Wow."

Elijah let out a quiet chuckle, low and warm. "Forgive me." He said softly, brushing his thumb once more along her jawline. "I tend to be rather thorough when I commit to something."

Buffy opened her eyes and looked at him, still a little dazed. "Well." She said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You should commit to kissing me more often."

Elijah's eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "If that is your wish." He said. "Then consider it a promise." Elijah's gaze lingered on her for a long moment, his thumb gently retreating from her jawline, though his hand remained at the side of her face, like he wasn't quite ready to let go.

Buffy's cheeks were still flushed, but her smile stayed—softer now, more certain. "You know," she said, her voice quiet but teasing, "for someone who always seems so composed, you're kind of wild when you let yourself feel something."

He inclined his head just slightly, lips curved in the smallest, most self-aware smile. "Composure," he said, "is only a mask I wear. You, Elskan, make me forget I'm wearing it."

Buffy blinked, a breath catching in her chest at his words. "That's very poetic."

"I've had centuries to practice." He replied gently, brushing another strand of hair behind her ear. "But none of them could've prepared me for you."

Then Buffy stepped a little closer again, placing her hand lightly on his chest. "I really don't know what you're doing to me." She admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

He looked down at her, something warm flickering behind his eyes. "If it's any consolation," He murmured. "you are not the only one caught unaware."

Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of his shirt. "Is that the polite Original way of saying you're falling for me?"

Elijah gave the faintest huff of laughter, the sound barely audible, but unmistakably real. "If I were to fall," He said. "it would not be a subtle affair."

Buffy's breath caught again. There was something about the way he said it; like every word he gave her was a vow dressed in silk.

She tilted her head, eyes searching his face. "And have you?"

Elijah didn't answer right away. Instead, he raised her hand—his fingers curling delicately around hers—and brought it to his lips. The kiss he placed on the back of it was soft.

"I have." He whispered, lips still brushing her skin. "And I would again."

Buffy felt like the ground shifted beneath her feet—but not in a bad way. In the kind of way that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she was exactly where she was meant to be.

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Chapter 62 and it's finally happening!!!

(Did I write this chapter before I wrote the entire ball? Yes. Yes, I did. But did I also forget to upload it? Yes. Yes, I did.)

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Be sure to comment and vote if you want. I love reading them and your support keeps me so motivated!

Katherine xoxo

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WORDS: 1321

POSTED: SATURDAY 12/04/2025

WRITTEN: SUNDAY 06/04/2025