The girl at the end of the bar, William mused, really did not belong in a dive like The Alibi Room.

She was, to put it mildly, a golden goddess. Shiny, shampoo-commercial hair fell in cornsilk-colored waves halfway down her back. Her back which, thank you very much, was all but bare, covered only by the intricate ties that held her shimmery silver halter top in place. A gauzy black skirt fell away from her crossed legs, giving William a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, tanned thighs. He let his gaze hover on her legs for a long moment, captivated by the way her knee-high leather boots encased her sweetly rounded calves.

She was watching him watch her, he realized, when his eyes finally trailed their way back up her body, making sure to detour at the delectable curve of her breasts before landing on her face. He would have blushed at his own boldness if not for the fortification of the cheap scotch he had consumed in abundant quantities over the past few hours. His eyes flickered across her face, taking in the full lips, the funny little bump at the tip of her nose, her big hazel eyes. He gave her a smirking smile and curled his tongue behind his teeth.

She gave a small smile back and then a fight that had broken out between two over-lubricated patrons caught her attention. William took advantage of her distraction to eye her up again. Then he gave a small, quiet sigh and returned to moping into his drink.

Five years, he thought. Five years of devotion and adoration, and where did it get him? Alone and half-drunk - well, three quarters drunk, more like - in a run-down and beyond filthy bar. He had thought, until just this evening, that he and Dru were destined for each other. They had a love that would last an eternity. William let out a derisive snort at that maudlin thought and slammed down the remainder of his drink. He set his glass down and made eye contact with the bartender, who nodded briefly when William pointed at his empty glass.

With his drink refilled, William leaned back on his barstool and glanced around the room again. The golden girl was gone; William felt a frisson of disappointment. He decided he would finish this one last drink and then head... where? Certainly not home. Another sigh escaped him. A hotel then, but something nice. Sitting in this dive for the past several hours was as much slumming as he wished to do for today.

"Do you want to talk about it?" came a sultry voice from his left. William looked around and almost dropped his drink. It was the girl, sliding her little form onto the stool next to him. A wave of her jasmine perfume wafted over him and he felt himself become suddenly one hundred percent, all the way drunk.

"Wha... uh.. talk?" he stuttered. His attention was again caught by her legs as she crossed them and her skirt slid even higher up her thigh.

She laughed, and even that was golden. She seemed to shed a soft glow that was unmuted by their squalid surroundings. "You look so sad," she explained. "I came over to see if I could cheer you up."

William chuckled as he took in her pseudo-shy glance up at him from beneath long eyelashes. "Is it Be Kind to Pathetic Strangers Day, or am I just that lucky?" he teased her.

"You're just that lucky," she shot back. She laid a small hand on his bare arm. "And definitely anything but pathetic. So, is it working?"

William looked down at her hand and then slowly back at her laughing eyes. He felt a grin crack his face. It began to sink through his drunken haze that this girl was seriously coming on to him.

"You’re a bloody miracle worker, kitten. How can I ever thank you?”

She leaned over with the sweetest smile, pressed her lips to his ear, and gave him a stirring suggestion for exactly how he could best express his gratitude.



***

William woke to an unfamiliar room and a throbbing hangover. He groaned experimentally, hoping his head wouldn't fall right off his shoulders. Then he looked around and wondered for a moment where he was. Generic wallpaper, tasteless pastel artwork, polyester bedspread... a hotel room for sure.

Flashes of the night before came back to him as he struggled to a sitting position. The cab ride from the bar to the hotel - the two of them necking like frantic teenagers in the backseat while the cab driver snuck peeks in the rearview mirror. He vaguely remembered pulling back from her hot kisses to ask her name. Anne, she'd said, and then he’d said something inane about his mum, but then it didn’t matter because she was kissing him again.

Checking into the hotel, a process which took much longer than it ought to have, due mainly to Anne's hands wandering across his back, over his hips, and into his pants, rendering him incapable of filling out the requisite paperwork.

And then walking into the hotel room, where Anne promptly pushed him against the door and gave him the hottest, fastest blow job he'd ever received. William felt his cock spring to life at the memory of her teeth nipping at his neck and collarbone, the way she'd pulled his clothes apart and released him from his jeans. He knew he'd come fast, like a schoolboy. And hadn't that made her smile in the most satisfied way.

William knew they hadn't stopped there. A tiny scrap of black silk caught his eye, peeking out from underneath the rumpled bedspread. Right. "Wanna see you strip off for me," he'd told her, then sat back and watched his own private strip tease. Her hands had trembled, he remembered, and he thought again what a strange combination of sexual confidence and shy innocence she had been. When she was naked, all but her boots, she stood in front of him almost awkwardly, arms twitching to cover herself and a blush spreading across her body.

William leaned forward, elbows on his knees and face buried in his hands. What he'd done last night was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Even five years of admittedly kinky sex with Dru had nothing on this. Anne had just to touch him and he'd been ready to explode. Hell, he'd almost come in his jeans from kissing her in the cab. And where was she this morning? Nowhere to be seen, and no sign that she'd even been beyond the thong she'd left behind and the ache in his balls.

Another memory came to him then, of her stretched across the bed on her stomach, him moving above her, hands caressing her smooth skin. Stopping his perusal of her body at her hips, at the fading bruises that littered her buttocks and thighs. "What's all this, pet?" he'd asked.

She'd craned her neck around, glanced carelessly at the marks he was tracing with a single finger. "I do a little gymnastics. Fall down every now and then." She'd watched him for a minute, then wiggled her hips at him. "Want you to fuck me now." Very matter-of-fact about it, which had made him even harder and he'd obliged. He'd obliged more than once during the night, dozing between bouts, then rousing to reach for her again. Or waking to the feel of her hands or mouth on him. Insatiable, both of them.

William flopped back onto the bed. He could smell her all around him, jasmine and sweat and sex, and it made him hard again. He cursed himself for not waking before she snuck away, for not getting a number or a last name, or anything that would make it possible to find her again.

And now he had to walk out of this rented room, leave her scent behind, and head home. Home, where Dru would be waiting for him to come crawling back. Or where she would be fucking another man in his bed. Either way, not an appealing thought. William forced himself to get out of bed and get dressed, stopping only to retrieve Anne's black thong and slip it into the back pocket of his jeans.



***

The scene with Dru went about as well as William had imagined. She flew into a mad rage the moment he stumbled into the house, rumpled and red-eyed and stinking of cheap booze and another woman. It would have been funny if it weren't so ironic.

"I walk in on you shaggin' some bloke in MY bed, in MY house, and you have the nerve to get pissed at me for gettin' some on the side?" he screamed at her finally. "You are the craziest bint I've ever had the misfortune to get mixed up with, and it's over, Drusilla. I can't do this with you anymore."

"I made you what you are, my William," Dru crooned. She swayed in front of him, arms reaching for him, and he backed away quickly. "You can't turn away from me now."

"Watch me," he growled. "I want you out of this house in thirty minutes. Take what you can, and come back in a week for the rest of your stuff. It'll be outside."

"William!" Fat tears welled up in Drusilla's eyes. "You can't mean this. You love me."

"Correction. I loved you. Now I don't." He rummaged around the kitchen cupboards until he found a fresh pack of smokes. "I'm goin' for a walk now. When I come back, you'd best be gone." The door slammed behind him with finality and he released a pent-up sigh.

He returned, more than an hour later, to an empty house. He stripped the sheets off his bed and stuffed them into a garbage bag. As soon as he lay down on the bare mattress he was asleep.

William ruthlessly rid his house of Drusilla's possessions, a certain amount of ferocious glee building up in him as he carelessly filled garbage bag after garbage bag with her things. There was a heavy pile of them on the back porch; looking at the detritus of their life together slumped in those black lumps gave him a queer feeling. He was done with her, done with the sham the past few years had been, and he'd never felt better.

Then he was suddenly tired, drained and incapable of sorting through anymore of their admixed belongings. He stretched backwards, fists pressing hard into his lower back, knots and kinks popping as he moved. His stomach rumbled and he realized he didn't recall the last meal he'd eaten. He knew already, from his whirlwind excavation of the kitchen, that there was little edible in the house. However, there was an unassuming diner around the corner. Dru had always turned up her nose when he suggested they walk to the neighborhood eatery, and so he had never been. She's gone, he thought suddenly, I can do what I want. It was a good thought.

He locked the door behind him and strode off through the lengthening shadows. The diner was middling busy and he took a seat at a small table near the window.

That was when he saw her. She looked tired and pale, diminished somehow from that golden goddess he had first beheld. Her hair was scraped back into a messy ponytail, and her face was free of makeup. There were dark circles beneath her eyes. Her cheap polyester uniform only served to exacerbate the sense of weariness she exuded. She was frowning and distracted as she approached his table. Not until she was standing next to him, pen scratching absently at her order pad, did she glance up.

Her eyes widened slightly, although she gave no other indication of recognizing him. "What can I get for you?" she asked in a bored voice.

William narrowed his eyes and leaned forward on his elbows. "Buffy," he read off her nametag. He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at her. "Not Anne?"

She had the grace to blush. In the next instant, though, there was a flare of ire in her eyes. "Oh, please. 'That's me mum's name," she mocked with a horrible impersonation of his accent. "If that's not a line, I don't know what is. And here's a tip: don't talk about your mother when you're trying to get a girl in bed with you."

William kept her fixed in his gaze. "I may be a lot of things, Buffy, but I'm not a liar," he said coldly. "And I certainly didn't need to use any lines on you, now did I? Would have been hard pressed to keep you out of my bed, if you'll recall. Maybe should have brought my grandmum into the conversation, too."

Buffy compressed her lips into a thin line. She turned on her heel and stormed away, stopping briefly at the counter to have a quiet conversation with another waitress. The two women glanced in his direction, and William growled as he pushed back from the table. He strode out of the restaurant without a backward glance and stormed down the street. He turned into the first bar he spotted and settled for a dinner of cheap beer and stale pretzels.

***

Two hours later, William was heading, somewhat unsteadily, home. As he neared the diner, he spotted Buffy's slender form exiting the front door. She had changed from her waitress uniform to a pair of loosely fitted dark jeans and a plain gray t-shirt. Her hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders. She looked very young and vulnerable in the dim light of the entrance alcove.

"Hello, cutie," he slurred, stopping behind her as she locked the diner door.

Buffy jumped at his words, then fixed him with a cold-eyed glare. "What do you want?" she sneered.

"Wanna apologize," he mumbled. He leaned against the diner's front window and trained his gaze on a spot between their feet. "Was rude to you before. 'm sorry, pet." He looked up at her with his saddest kicked-puppy look and gave her a shrug. He hoped it was endearing.

Buffy stared at him for a moment before letting out a low laugh. "You think you're pretty cute, don't you?" she teased him.

"Maybe a little," he responded. He smiled at her and straightened up. "Does that mean I'm forgiven then?"

“Hmm…” Buffy pondered. Her lips quivered. “I suppose it does, William.”

William stilled, his eyes serious and locked on hers. “Buffy,” he said. He cocked his head and held a hand out to her. “Will you take a walk with me?”

Her right hand twitched by her side, but for a long moment she still hesitated. Then she reached forward, took his hand in hers and smiled full force at him. He swore her smile physically warmed him; his pulse vibrated in his throat.

***

“’M curious, pet, what was going on with you the night we met?”

They were seated on a scarred wooden picnic table beneath a cobwebbed pavilion at a small park. A slide and swing set stood opposite them, and a merry-go-round completed the park’s play area. Buffy had been very chipper during their brief walk to this park. Now she had quieted and William could see her slip into a somber mood. She shot him a quick glance from the corner of her eye, then refocused her attention on her hands, tightly clasped between her knees.

She opened, then closed her mouth and shrugged her shoulders. “I think… I wanted to,” she started. She shook her head, frustrated. Her golden locks tumbled around her face. “Okay! So, I have this cousin, Faith, she’s a couple years older than me.” The frown fell from her face as she began to speak more confidently. “I’d see her in the summers, when we’d go visit my mom’s sister in Iowa. Faith was always so, so grown-up and, god, just crazy and wild sometimes. She always had so much fun, you know? And especially the past couple years, every time we get together, she’s got these ideas and plans for us, and she keeps telling me to lighten up. But I never could. So for once I wanted to be someone else, someone who would just… who would pick up a stranger in a bar and, and… and do what we did,” here she started blushing, “and not even think about it. Do you understand?” She turned big eyes on him.

William laughed ruefully. “Kitten, ‘ve spent the past five years trying to be someone else. Think I almost was for awhile there.”

Buffy let out a deep breath. It turned into a chuckle. “My turn,” she announced cheerily. “What was your deal that night, William? All broody and mopey at the bar. And not at a good bar, either, I might point out.”

He laughed at her tone. “Oi, I was not brooding! I was thinking."

"Broodily," Buffy teased.

"Well, I'd just found out the love of my life was a cheating whore, hadn't I?" William shot back. "If that doesn't justify a little brooding, I don't know what does."

"Oh, William," Buffy breathed. The sympathy in her voice was so real and immediate that William felt a sob build up in his throat.

He jumped off the picnic table to hide the sudden rush of emotion. He searched his pockets for his smokes and took his time pulling a cigarette out of the pack and lighting it. Once he was sure he had control over his expression, he turned back to Buffy. "Yeah, came home that afternoon to find her with another man. So going out and getting sloshed seemed to be the thing to do. Then you happened along, and that seemed the thing to do, as well." He almost kicked himself for the coldness in his tone, and the crudeness of his words.

Buffy pulled herself up stiffly, all sympathy gone from her face. She practically launched herself off the table and away from William. He caught her by the shoulders as she stalked away from him.

He pulled her against him and wrapped one arm around her waist. She was rigid in his embrace. "Please don't go," he whispered into her hair. "Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm a bad man, Buffy, bad and rude, but I'm sorry."

Buffy turned in his arms and pushed with all her might against his chest. "You can't just keep insulting me and think you can get out of it with a little apology!" she yelled at him. Her eyes blazed fiercely and she pushed him again. "No wonder your girlfriend cheated on you, if that's how you treat women."

William grabbed Buffy's wrists as she moved to push him one more time. He wanted to explain how he'd treated Dru, how she'd been his princess, his world, his everything. But as he gazed down at Buffy's angry eyes and heaving chest, his mind went blank. All he could think of was how she had looked standing naked in front of him, bold and bashful all at the same time. Desire raged through him, and he bent to claim her lips with his own.

She fought him for a second, then a moan escaped her lips and she melted into him. For an interminable time, they pressed against one another, mouths and tongues battling, hands reaching beneath clothes for contact with warm skin. Then William drew back and brushed her soft hair back from her face.

"What you do to me," he said in a wondering tone. She fixed her eyes on his, unblinkingly, and grasped his hand as it stroked her cheek.

"Let's go somewhere," she whispered. "Your place?"

He blinked once, twice, then let a slow smile crawl across his face. "Absolutely." He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her along behind him toward his house.

They walked in an electric, thrumming silence to William’s cozy bungalow. He led Buffy up the wide stairs of the front porch and paused before opening the door. He slid his hands into her hair and turned her mouth up to his for a kiss. This one was soft and questing, slow and sensuous. Buffy’s hands gripped his upper arms, her fingers sliding beneath the sleeves of his black t-shirt. He skimmed one hand down her back to pull her closer and felt her tremble against him. He broke the kiss and stared into her eyes for a moment. A blush raced across her cheeks as he gazed intently at her.

Back to being bashful, he thought. Bloody adorable.

William unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Come in, make yourself at home,” he offered, ushering Buffy in to the living room. He walked past her into the small kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“Sure,” came her answer. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

He could hear her moving around in the living room. He pulled two glasses out of the cupboard and quickly mixed Jack and cokes for both of them. When he returned to her, she was standing in front of the bookcases lining the long wall of his living room. She turned to him with a small smile as he handed her the drink.

“These are all yours?” she questioned, gesturing to the books filling the shelves.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I like to read.”

Buffy laughed quietly. “I guess so.” She continued her perusal of the shelves, every now and then pulling a book out to read the description. She took a sip of her drink and made a face as it went down.

“Too strong, pet?” William inquired, amused at her wrinkled nose and the glimpse of her tongue.

“Uh, no, just… I guess I wasn’t expecting a drink-drink. Thought it was soda.” Buffy took another sip. That one went down easier. In a matter of minutes, her drink was empty and she held her glass out to him. "Please, sir, may I have another?"

William raised his eyebrows at her. "That was... quick," he commented drily. He took the glass, though, and fixed her another drink, going easy on the Jack this time. After topping off his own drink, he strolled back to the living room and stood next to Buffy. She jumped a little when he held her drink out to her, then turned a bright smile on him.

"You have a lot of poetry books," she chattered. "I'm not much of a reader, but I always liked poetry when I had to study it in school. Although the whole metaphor thing and what the poet was really saying, that seemed kind of silly to me. I mean, couldn't a poem just be about how yummy plums are instead of the plums representing something else? Or that one about the road in the woods…"

William narrowed his eyes at her as she rattled on. "Are you nervous?" he asked finally.

Buffy laughed. It sounded cheery and brittle. "What? No! I-Is there something I should be nervous about?"

William set his drink down on a shelf and grasped her shoulders, turning her towards him. She focused her gaze on his chin and swallowed. "Well, you could be nervous about what's going to happen now that I've got you all alone in my house," he prompted.

She tittered uneasily, blushed, and drained her drink before answering. "Maybe?"

William sighed and took her hands in his. He led her to the couch and sat her down, then took a seat on the coffee table facing her, still cradling her hands. "Listen, I'm not going to say I don't want you, because Lord knows, I really, really do." Buffy let out a little squeak. "But we both know that what happened when we met was out of character for you. Was for me, too." She glanced up at him with surprise written on her face. "I've been with one woman for the past five years," he explained. "And before her, well, let's just say I wasn't anyone's idea of a catch. Casual sex has never been my style. So let's take sex off the table, okay? I'd like to get to know you, because I think you're worth getting to know as a person. Not gonna deny wanting a repeat of the other night, but I'm not gonna push for it if it's something you're uncomfortable with. All right?"

Buffy's mouth was hanging open by the time he finished his speech. "Um, wow. That's really... sweet and, and sensitive and... Is this some kinda line, where you pretend you're all understanding-guy to get me to want to jump you?"

William guffawed. "Promise, kitten, it's not a line. But it made you wanna jump me?"

"Maybe a little bit." Buffy glanced down at their clasped hands. "I like the idea of getting to know each other, though." She smirked at him. "Y'know, when I saw you at the bar, I thought, 'ooh, bad boy,' but you're just a fluffy little puppy, aren't you?"

William growled at her. "Cheeky bint! Try to be nice, and that's what I get?" Grumbling to himself he stood up and retrieved their glasses from the bookshelf. "Not tryin' to get you drunk, but would you like another drink?" At her nod, he headed back into the kitchen.

He returned to the living room to find her looking with interest at a box of pictures he had been rummaging through while clearing Drusilla out of his life. He sat on the table again and watched with some dismay as she reached into the box of snapshots. “Oh, those are…” His voice trailed off as Buffy started flipping through pictures.

“Is this your girlfriend?” she questioned, flashing him a photo of the dark-haired woman. He nodded dumbly.

“She’s very pretty,” Buffy stated. She tossed the picture aside carelessly.

“Oh, my God, is this you?” she squealed. William groaned as he spied the picture that she held. Him at his high school graduation, at what he estimated was the peak of his nerdiness.

“I was young,” he said by way of explanation.

“You were so… so cute!” Buffy exclaimed. “Look at that hair!”

“Yes, I’m familiar with it,” he muttered, standing up as she attempted to push the photo into his line of sight.

“So, when did you do that?” Buffy gestured to his bleach blond hair, carefully gelled to keep his natural curls subdued.

“Oh, right around the time I met Dru. Was her idea, of course. She had this whole punk-goth thing going on and wanted the boyfriend to match. So, changed my hair, changed my clothes, even changed my name.”

“Wait, your name’s not William? Do I get to call you names now? Maybe throw a little temper tantrum?” Buffy grinned to show she was teasing.

“Oi! Don't recall callin' you any names. And ‘William’ wasn’t nearly punk enough. Went by,” he cringed before he said it, “'Spike' for most of my time in uni.”

Buffy laughed. And laughed. And laughed a little more. William sighed and sat down next to her.

“All right, Buffy, it’s bloody hilarious, I know, but I hardly think you're in a position to be mockin' anyone's name.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders when she fell against him, gasping for air between bouts of giggles.

“Spike!” she choked out. She pushed herself upright and wiped a tear away. “That’s fantastic, it really is. And I had nothing to do with my name. So unless your mother saddled you with Spike, I think I can mock all I like.” With another snigger she moved on to the next picture she held. “Oh, well, I can see why Dru wanted you to change the way you dressed. A bow tie and a sweater vest? Did you get beat up a lot in high school?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, and thanks ever so for the commentary.” William attempted to snatch the stack of photos from her hand over her cry of protest.

“I do think you were cute,” Buffy offered kindly. “Even if you were a geek. Ooh, any chance you were in marching band?”

“Thankfully not. Now, trip down my memory lane complete, or do you need to poke a little more fun?”

"Definitely more poking required. So, Spike, did you wear a dog collar to go with your new name?" Buffy flipped through the pictures quickly, then stopped on one that made her eyes glaze over. "Oh. I'd say Dru had the right idea," she murmured.

William looked over her shoulder at the picture of himself in full punk regalia. His blond hair gelled into artistically mussed spikes, heavy black eye makeup, leather duster covering his ripped and safety-pinned t-shirt and his skintight jeans, black nail polish and a multitude of silver rings gracing his hands and, yes, a studded black leather dog collar. William reached for the picture and received a light slap on his knuckles for his effort.

"Oh no, Spikey, I think I wanna keep this one," Buffy giggled. "You're so ... grrr and lickable." She tucked the picture beneath her thigh with a mischievous grin and returned to flipping through the stack.

The next picture she flashed at him for further explanation made his heart clench. He plucked the picture from Buffy's hand and traced a finger over the photo. "That's me and my mum," he said quietly. "This was at Christmastime during my first year at university. The next day we found out she had stomach cancer. She was gone two months later." William took a deep breath before glancing at Buffy. She was pale and silent, her eyes very wide and filled with tears. She blinked and the tears that stood in her eyes spilled down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, William," she whispered. Her hands shook a little as she carefully set the photos she held down on the table. Then she dropped her face into her hands and began sobbing whole-heartedly.

William sat next to her in stunned silence for a moment. He raised a hand to her shoulder and patted her awkwardly on the back. "What's all this for, then?" he asked. She shook her head as sobs continued to wrack her thin frame. In desperation, William pulled her onto his lap. She tucked her head into his shoulder and proceeded to soak his t-shirt with her tears.

"Buffy? Sweetness, please," William pleaded. He rubbed her back helplessly and waited her out. After some minutes, her sobs tapered off. She sniffled and snuffled, wiping at her wet cheeks and runny nose with still-trembling hands.

William gently removed Buffy from his lap and stood up. She watched him with wet eyes as he left the room. He returned quickly with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. She smiled tremulously at him as she accepted his offerings, cleaning her face thoroughly before downing the water.

"Feel better, kitten?" he inquired. She nodded and he sat down next to her again. "Now, wanna tell me what the waterworks are for? Cuz tender hearted as you are, I can't believe that was all about my mum."

Buffy shook her head. "I... my mom died not too long ago," she whispered. "She had these headaches, and they found a brain tumor. But they got it all out, they said she was going to be just fine. They promised. Then..." she choked back another sob, and William wrapped his arms around her. "I, uh, I came home and she was... she was lying on the couch. She was c-c-cold and..."

"Oh, sweetness," William murmured into her hair. "'M so sorry, pet, that must've been so awful for you."

"I miss her so much!" Buffy wailed. William rocked her back and forth, as the tears began pouring again. "Everything's awful without her!"

William whispered sweet nonsense into her ear as he held her and let her cry it out. He rubbed her back, squeezed her tight, called her pet, called her love and sweetness and kitten. Finally, he ran out of words, and simply held her close until her tears ceased. He helped her clean her face again and then she crawled into his lap, her arms looped around his neck.

"Thank you," she said, her lips grazing the sensitive skin above his collarbone. "I guess I needed that." She yawned and laid her head down on his shoulder. William craned his neck to see her face. Her eyes slipped closed and her body relaxed against him. She was asleep, he realized, and he noted again the dark circles under her eyes. He stood up carefully, not wanting to disturb her. He carried her to the bedroom and laid her down gently. After removing her sneakers and covering her with a light blanket, he picked up a pillow and turned to leave the room, intending to sleep on the couch.

"William," came Buffy's soft voice. He turned to her. "Would you, please, would you stay with me? Would you just hold me?"

He nodded silently, not quite trusting himself to speak. The moment he laid down next to her, she curled herself around him, resting her head on his chest. He dropped a soft kiss on her hair and was soon lulled to sleep by the warmth of her body and the sound of her even breathing.

She was gone in the morning. A folded piece of paper lay on the pillow next to him. He opened it. The words "thank you" were scrawled across the page and at the bottom, she had pressed a lipstick kiss. William smiled and pressed his lips to the imprint of hers.

It was two long, agonizing days before William saw Buffy again.

He spent those two days trying to think of anything other than her big eyes and the deep sorrow she hid beneath her bright, clean smile. He conscribed the simple note she’d left him to the top drawer of his bedside table and tried to avoid the temptation to brush his lips and fingers over her kiss print. He changed the sheets on his bed because his brain insisted it could still smell her on his pillow; the haunting scent of her perfume remained, however, even with fresh linens.

William occupied himself with removing the last evidence of Drusilla from his house and with reorganizing his bookshelves. That task dissolved into him flipping through his books for the perfect words to express the state of his emotions. The third time he found himself reading e.e. cummings' "i like my body when it is with your," he sighed in frustration and slammed the book shut. The phrase "eyes big love-crumbs" floated through his mind and he found himself thinking about Buffy's hazel eyes gazing up at him as she lay in his bed.

When the knock on his door came the second morning, he raced to open it with his heart in his throat, hoping that the girl he couldn't get out of his head would be standing on the other side.

It was Drusilla.

Drusilla, with crocodile tears in her eyes and a beseeching tone in her voice. She tried to wheedle her way into the house, but William blocked the doorway with his body and stood resolute against her charms. She apologized, as sincere as he'd ever heard her; she swore up and down that it was a onetime thing, promised it would never happen again, and couldn't she be his princess again, still?

William refused her pleas over and over until the message finally sank in. He was done with her. He smiled coldly as she accepted his resolve and began collecting her belongings. His back porch was soon cleared of Drusilla's things, his house exorcised of her, and he felt the weight of their relationship slip off his shoulders.

He spent a long time after Drusilla was gone staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His hands gripped the edges of the porcelain sink until his knuckles ached. He tried to find a glimpse of the shy nerd he had been before Dru blew into his life; the floppy-haired, bespectacled boy Buffy had proclaimed 'cute.' He had often wondered what it was about that boy, exactly, that had convinced Dru he was worth transforming. Now he wondered what it was he'd seen in Dru that had persuaded him to make the transformation for her.

***

William ran aimlessly in an effort to burn off the nervous energy that had been building up inside him. It was only when he turned the corner onto Ash Street that he admitted to himself his aimless run had been anything but. The diner was just ahead. He slowed as he passed it, glancing through the front window in hopes of spying her golden form. It was late afternoon and the diner was nearly empty. If Buffy was working, she was nowhere to be seen.

William sped back up, determined to return home and put the girl out of his head. He wasn't going to obsess about her. Too late, his internal voice chided him.

That was when he saw her. He skidded to a halt yards away from her. She was standing at a bus stop, alternately fiddling with an iPod and glancing impatiently at her watch. William thought that he had never seen anything as lovely as Buffy in the sunshine. The sunlight sparkled on her hair and gave her skin a soft glow.

As if she could feel his intent gaze on her, Buffy turned slowly in his direction. Their eyes met and William felt a slow smile grace his face. She pulled her earphones off and looked at him as he came to stand in front of her. Her eyes, when they met his, were very wide. Her initial wary expression soon dissolved into one of amusement.

“Hello, Spike. Nice hair,” she snarked.

William glanced at the nearest shop window, hoping to catch his reflection. He cursed under his breath when he did. All sweaty and red-faced from his run, but that was nothing compared to the unruly mop of curls atop his head. He attempted to slick his hair down to no avail. “Yeah, well, you’ve got stupid hair, too,” he grumbled. He gave her loose ponytail a sharp tug.

Buffy gasped in mock-outrage. “Not nice, William,” she pouted.

He grinned at her. “I take it back, pet. Bloody gorgeous, your hair. Thought so from the first moment I saw you. Does that make it all better?” She nodded and smiled. “So, what are you up to on this fine day?” he questioned.

Buffy glanced at her watch again. “Waiting for the bus,” she replied. “Which is late. As usual.”

“Hey mister driver man, don’t be slow,” William sang quietly, ”cuz I got somewhere I gotta go.”

Buffy looked at him quizzically.

“’Waiting for the Bus?’ The Violent Femmes?” he prompted.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Never heard of ‘em.”

It was William’s turn to gasp. “Do you live under a rock?” he demanded. “Let me see that thing!” He pulled the iPod from her hands and quickly scrolled through her music collection. Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, 50 Cent, Rihanna, Mariah Carey. And those were the best of the bunch. “Good Lord, girl, do you listen to anything recorded before 2005?” he complained as he handed the iPod back to her. “I can see you need some musical education.” A playlist started creating itself in his mind. Would “I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend” be too obvious?

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I like my music just fine, thank you very much. Let me guess, you like it loud and grungy?”

“I like it good,” William clarified. “Come on, The Ramones, The Sex Pistols, Velvet Underground, The Clash? Any of these names ring a bell with you?”

Buffy shook her head. “Sorry.”

William gave an exaggerated sigh, but tempered it with a wide smile. "Glad I ran into you, pet," he said. "Been thinkin' about you."

"Really?" She grinned up at him as he nodded. "That's nice to hear," she murmured. Then her gaze turned serious and her eyes slipped from his. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry about the other night. Sorry I wigged out on you."

William put his hand on her arm as she turned slightly away from him. "Hey, nothing to apologize for," he said emphatically. "Well, except..."

Buffy looked back at him. "Except?"

He stepped closer to her and slid his hand down her arm, traced a light circle into the palm of her hand. "You could apologize for not being there when I woke up," he suggested. "Seems like a bad habit you've got. Makes me think, next time I get you in my bed," here he leaned into her and spoke very quietly in her ear, "I'm gonna have to tie you to it, just to make sure you're still there in the morning."

Buffy's hand clenched around his. He heard her swallow hard. "Oh," she breathed. William pulled back and looked at her. Her face was flushed and her eyes glazed. Her eyelids fluttered before she glanced up at him again. She removed her hand from his grasp and took a step back. "Um, I don't think... you shouldn't say things like that!" she protested. "I-I don't even know your last name!"

William laughed. "William Pratt, at your service," he said with a slight bow. "Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilites; but I think I did warn you I'm a rude man. Not a fluffy puppy at all, hmm?"

Buffy giggled. "Yes, you're very bad, Mr. Pratt," she agreed.

"Gonna introduce yourself all proper, pet, so I can get back to being good an' rude?"

"Buffy Summers." She held her hand out to him, which he took and shook briefly. They smiled at each other for a moment. Then, from behind him, William heard the pneumatic wheeze of a bus. "Oh, I've gotta go," Buffy said hurriedly.

"I could give you a ride, wherever you're going." William felt a sudden panic grip his heart.

"No!" Buffy responded sharply. Then, in a softer tone, "No, Will, I'm fine. But thank you."

"I wanna see you again, Buffy. Can I get your number?"

Buffy smiled shyly. She reached into her purse and after a minute of searching pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper. "Here, give me your number, I'll give you a call later, okay?"

William scribbled his digits down and handed the paper back to her just as the bus pulled up alongside them. "You better call," he warned, "or I'll be very sad." His fingers lingered on hers as she took the pen from him.

"I will. I promise." With a little wave, she boarded the bus.

William watched the bus pull away with a satisfied grin on his face. He turned toward home, a definite spring in his step as he ran down the street.

****

Buffy kept her promise; the phone rang just after nine that night. He could sense her unease over the phone and wished he could see her face. He tried to soothe her with teasing, keeping the conversation light. William breathed a sigh of relief when they set a date for Saturday night.

"You have to behave yourself," she said as their conversation wound down. "You said we could... that you wouldn't push for sex, remember?"

"I remember," he replied seriously. "Best behavior, pet. Promise."

“Huh.” A snort of derision crossed the phone wires. “Why do I get the feeling your ‘best behavior’ isn’t very good?”

William was about to defend himself and his behavior when he heard a loud crash from Buffy’s end. An indistinct voice shouted something in the background.

“I’ve gotta go, Will,” Buffy said distantly. “See you Saturday.”

“Buffy?” William questioned. But she was already gone.

The stereo blared as William readied himself for his date with Buffy. He surveyed the mess he'd made of his bedroom, feeling a bit like a nervous sixteen-year-old. Every shirt and jacket he owned was strewn across the bed, having been tried on and rejected. He finally settled on a silk cobalt blue button down shirt, tucking it into the waistband of his best black jeans. A heather-gray sports coat completed his look. William glanced at his watch, realized Buffy’s arrival was imminent, and took one last glance in the mirror before making an effort to clean up the room.

A knock on the door interrupted his efforts. He gathered up the last of the clothing in one jumbled mess and tossed it haphazardly in the closet. He hurried to the door as another knock sounded through the house.

William opened the door and stood in awed silence of the goddess standing before him. The Stooges played in the background. William felt himself nodding along to the steady tempo of the song as he gazed at Buffy. “And now I’m ready to feel your hand, and lose my heart on the burning sands. And now I wanna be your dog, now I wanna be your dog.”

He realized he was still staring right about the time Buffy smiled enigmatically. “Are you going to ask me in, or not?” she asked. Her Mona Lisa smile was becoming more of a smirk by the second.

William swallowed. He wasn’t sure he was entirely in charge of his own body. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, come in, please.” He stepped back from the door and watched Buffy as she moved past him into the living room. “You look…” his voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You look fantastic, kitten.”

She really did. She wore a short sleeved, off-the-shoulder dress in a blue so dark as to be almost black. The skirt flared out sharply from her waist and ended just above her knees. A blood red sash wrapped around her waist, complimented by her deep red lipstick. Strappy red high-heeled sandals emphasized the curve of her calves and gave her an extra few inches of height. Her stormy eyes were nearly level with his as she passed him. Her hair was arranged in a carefully messy updo; a simple silver chain graced the delicate bones of her neck. Every cell in his body strained toward the silken, creamy expanse of her bare back and shoulders

William licked his lips. Buffy folded her hands primly in front of her and deftly avoided his gaze. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked. He glanced at his wrist. “Although our reservation is in twenty minutes…” He turned away from her as he closed the front door. Looking at her confounded him; seeing her lustrous skin, the soft tendrils of hair that fell to her sharp collarbones, made him dizzy.

“We should leave, then?” Buffy questioned gently. She was watching him obliquely; he knew she was aware of the effect she had on him.

William nodded. He took a deep breath, and just like that, he was once more in control of both brain and body; that eerie sensation of watching himself from afar dissipated. He held his hand out to Buffy. He briefly brought her fingers to his lips when she placed her hand in his. Then he tucked it securely beneath his arm and led her to his 1959 DeSoto. The whitewalls gleamed in the late evening sunshine; he’d had three days to prepare for this night, and a good portion of that time had been spent polishing his baby till she shone.

William ushered Buffy into the passenger seat before hurrying around to get in the car himself. He started the car and the engine purred smoothly as he pulled out onto the street.

***

Buffy was quiet during the drive to the restaurant. William had chosen a high-toned French bistro nestled among the foothills west of Sunnydale. He ushered her into the restaurant, leaving his car in the hands of the pimply-faced valet. The silence that had sprung up between them in the car remained as they were shown to their table.

William held Buffy’s chair as she sat down. She glanced up at him as he walked to his seat. “I’m impressed,” she said once he was facing her.

“Really?” William smiled at her, the picture of a polite English gentleman.

Buffy nodded seriously. “Very impressed. I’ve been in your company for at least half an hour, and you have yet to insult me, or try to pick a fight or, y’know, threaten to tie me up. Did you get brain-sucked or something, 'cause you're being, like, scarily not a jerk.”

William leaned back in his chair, tucked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, curled his tongue behind his teeth, and gave her his best leer. He was gratified to see the blush that swept across her tanned skin. “I promised, din’t I?” he smirked. Then he sat up straight with a quiet laugh. He took her hand in his. “I meant it, pet. You’re going to have to beg if you want me to be bad.”

Buffy laughed, too, leaving their hands clasped for a minute before pulling away from him. William immediately missed the contact with her warmth, but the mood between them felt easier, more comfortable. As if now, they could try at being friends.

***

William poured the remainder of their second bottle of wine into Buffy’s glass. Buffy moved her hand toward the glass in a half-hearted protest against his actions. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Mr. Pratt?” she teased.

William nodded his head. “Absolutely, kitten.” Their waiter glided over to the table as William placed the empty bottle in the wine stand.

“Would you care for anything else to drink?” the waiter offered.

William glanced at Buffy and caught the slight negative movement of her head. “Two espressos, please,” he ordered. “And dessert?” He watched Buffy’s eyes light up at the mention of sweets. “Something chocolatey and decadent.”

Buffy groaned as the waiter walked away. “Ugh, I’m going to burst, William. I don’t think I have room for dessert.”

“You know you want it,” William said with a smile. He picked up his wine glass and took a small sip. “We can go dancing next, burn off all those delicious calories, yeah?”

Buffy grinned. “Sounds wonderful.”

They chatted easily as they shared the rich chocolate torte. Inconsequential conversation; he talked about his family, answered her questions about growing up in England. She was fascinated by the idea living in a place with so much history.

“It’s all so… old,” she explained. “Like Stonehenge. It kind of blows my mind to think about how old that place is. Did you know it took, like, seventy generations to construct it? That is some serious dedication.”

As they sipped their strong coffees, William inquired, "What’s your family like? Are they around here?”

Buffy bypassed her espresso in favor of the rest of her wine. She looked down at the table as she spoke. “My parents got divorced when I was ten. We moved here, my father stayed in LA. He came to visit a couple of times, but after about a year, the visits stopped. He sends cards once in a while, for birthdays and stuff.” Buffy trailed one finger idly through the swirl of chocolate sauce and crumbs that were all that remained of the dessert. She raised her eyes to his and smiled boldly as she licked the chocolate off the slender digit.

William’s brain short-circuited as he watched her little pink tongue swirling around the tip of her finger. “Uh… he sounds like a right git,” he managed eventually.

“You don’t want to hear about my crazy family,” Buffy said matter-of-factly. William opened his mouth to protest, but she waved him off. “I’m enjoying myself,” she said. “I’d rather not… I just want to have fun with you tonight, okay? I don’t want to drag up all my family baggage.”

William nodded in agreement and took her hand in his. “So let’s go have some fun, pet.”

***

The Bronze was loud and crowded when they arrived. William mimed drinking and pointed at the bar, eyebrows raised. Buffy nodded. “Diet coke, please,” she said close to his ear.

Once he had their drinks in hand – soda for Buffy and a beer for himself – he returned to where she stood near the entrance. “I think I see an empty table in the back,” she informed him. He followed her past the busy dance floor to an unoccupied table just beyond the pool tables. They sat in silence for a bit, Buffy's eyes scanning the crowd and William's eyes fixed on Buffy. She glanced at him and smiled. Then she stood up and took hold of his hand.

"Dance with me?" she requested. He quickly drained his beer and followed her to the dance floor.

Conversation wasn't possible, both because of the volume of the music and because William's mouth was too dry to speak. Buffy threw herself into dancing with obvious relish and he was helpless to do anything but watch her shapely figure move in front of him. She turned her back to him and leaned against his chest. He let his hands rest lightly on her hips, moving his body in time with hers. She warmed up as they danced, a soft sheen of glistening sweat coating her skin. Her scent - her jasmine perfume, the floral scent of her shampoo, and that other odor that was pure Buffy - wafted over him, into him, as they danced.

They stayed on the dance floor through several fast-tempo songs. When a slow song started playing, Buffy turned in his arms. She slipped her arms around his neck and twined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. William closed his eyes briefly and relaxed into her touch. She smiled at him when he opened his eyes, then snuggled against his chest. He tightened his embrace around her as they swayed to the music. They continued their slow swaying even after the song ended and another loud, fast tune came on. William pulled back from Buffy a bit, looked in her eyes. She gazed back at him, an indefinable expression on her face. Then she closed the small space between them and kissed him lightly. His arms convulsed around her back, pressing her as close to him as he could. He explored her mouth slowly, langorously.

They were both breathing hard when they broke apart. They stood together a bit longer, an island of stillness among the mass of gyrating bodies surrounding them. Buffy pressed her lips to William's ear. "Please take me home," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. "I'm begging you."

William buried his face in the gentle curve of her neck, trying to catch his breath. After a moment he smiled at her. "My pleasure," he answered. "Let's go."

They were out the door in record time. Halfway across the parking lot, arms wrapped around one another, they collided with a tall, dark-haired girl. William placed a steadying hand at the small of Buffy's back.

"Buffy Summers!" the girl said. "I haven't seen you in ages."

Buffy smiled thinly. "Hello, Cordelia."

Cordelia raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly from Buffy to William. "Are you going to introduce me to your... friend?"

Buffy sighed. "Cordelia, William. William, Cordelia." William could feel the tension radiating off of the girl by his side. He moved his hand in soothing circles up and down her back.

The other girl nodded dismissively at William before turning her attention back to Buffy. "Well, look at you. Those shoes are very... last year. Your arm candy's improved since the last time I saw you, though."

William glanced at Buffy from the corner of his eye. She had a saccharine sweet smile plastered on her face. "So glad you noticed, Cordy. Say, weren't you supposed to be in Paris this summer?" Buffy clapped a hand over her mouth in mock-horror. "Oh, I'm so sorry! I totally forgot about your dad's little run-in with the IRS. Did he ever make bail?"

William tried to suppress his laughter as Cordelia huffed and flounced away. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, pet."

Buffy turned impish eyes on him. "That was bad of me, wasn't it?" She didn't sound as if she regretted it in the least. She twined herself into his arms, brushed her lips across his neck and jawline. "So, where were we, Mr. Pratt?"

William tugged her closer to him and insinuated a leg between her soft thighs. He pretended to think about her question for a bit. "I think I was about to take you home and show you just how good I can be when I'm not on my best behavior."

Buffy kissed him hard. "Lead on, then," she commanded.

With a willing smile, William did exactly that.

***

William's eyes popped open when he felt Buffy slide out of his grasp. "Where you sneakin' off to, kitten?" he murmured sleepily.

Buffy leaned over him, warm and naked. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Just gotta use the bathroom," she whispered. "I'll be right back, promise."

William smiled as she left the bedroom. His eyes slipped closed, but he stayed awake until she was back in his arms.

William awoke slowly. A satisfied smile crossed his face as he snuggled his armful of warm Buffy closer to him. She lay curled against his side, her head on his shoulder. He dropped a kiss onto her mussed hair.

"Mmm," Buffy purred. She stretched lazily before opening her eyes and looking up at him with a bashful smile. "Good morning."

"Mornin', pet," William replied. He ran his hand down her bare back and watched with delight as she arched into his touch. He pulled her over so she lay on top of him. "Now this is a bit of all right. A fella could get used to waking up next to you."

Buffy wriggled. William moaned and tugged her down to meet his lips. When they were both breathless and excited, he pulled back and began kissing his way down her neck. His hands slid languidly down her sides, reveling in the satiny feel of her heated skin. He paused his exploration long enough to roll the both of them over. He propped himself up on an elbow next to her, one leg tossed possessively over hers. He trailed a finger down her chest, between her breasts, and around her belly button.

Buffy watched him through heavy-lidded eyes as he flattened his hand on her stomach. "You're so damn pretty, Buffy," he said, his voice husky. "Perfect little girl in my bed. 'M a lucky bloke."

She blushed and pushed his hand away. "I'm not perfect." She sat up, curling her arms around her drawn-up knees. "And I'm not a little girl." Her bottom lip jutted out.

William laughed. "Ooh, pouty." He let his hand trace the line of her back from shoulder to hip. "That's the way to prove you're oh-so-mature." He eyed her bare form with undisguised interest.

She was golden all over, not a tan line in sight. The image of Buffy sunbathing in the nude set up camp in his brain. Then he turned his attention back to the real, live, naked girl currently setting up camp in his bed. Several bruises on her otherwise flawless skin caught his eye.

"Did I do that, kitten?" He gestured to her side, just above her left hip, and Buffy ran a hand across the spot.

"Huh. I don't know.” She looked perplexed, but then shrugged. “I guess it's possible..."

William's face darkened with concern. He trailed a gentle hand through her mussed hair. "Din't mean to hurt you, sweetness," he said softly. He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on her shoulder.

Buffy turned and poured herself into his arms. She embraced him tightly and pressed her lips to his chest. "Will, you didn't hurt me," she assured him.

"But..."

She silenced him with a kiss; she twined her fingers into his hair, all soft curls now, holding his head still for her probing lips. "Did you hear me say 'ouch' last night?" she demanded when she finally let him up for air.

"Well, yeah, when I..."

Buffy immediately flushed bright red. All over. "I mean besides that!" He shook his head. "William, there's not one thing we did last night that I didn't like."

William smiled widely. "That right? Even the..."

Buffy clapped a hand over his mouth. "Yes!" He grinned evilly behind her hand. "So, nothing to worry about, okay?"

He nodded. "Sure." Then something occurred to him and he brightened. "'Sides, could be from gymnastics, right?”

"What?” Buffy said vaguely before catching his eye. "Oh. Yeah, maybe."

William cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed. "Have you been doing gymnastics long?" he inquired.

Buffy thought for a moment. "Um, since I was five or six. I'm not going to ever win the Olympics or anything. However," she confided, "I am very bendy."

Every last little bit of William was at full attention following this statement. "Really?" he smirked.

Buffy nodded seriously. "Oh, yes. Let me show you."

***

"Who was your arm candy before me?" William asked some time later. They were sprawled across each other, boneless and relaxed.

Buffy turned a questioning gaze on him. "Splainy?"

"Your... well, I seriously hesitate to call her your friend. The girl outside the Bronze."

"Oh. Cordelia. Yeah, I’d hesitate to call her my friend, too. My frenemy, maybe."

William mimicked Buffy's earlier expression.

"Frenemy - a friend who's also an enemy," she explained. "Pretty much sums up Cordy."

William nodded. "I see. So... about your 'arm candy'?" he prompted.

Buffy groaned. "Cordy's a notorious bitch. That is something you should know. But what she meant... See, I had this friend, Jonathan. He was so sweet, incredibly smart, funny..."

A low growl rumbled from William's chest.

"...very short, and probably totally gay," Buffy concluded with a grin. "He asked me out, and I didn’t have the heart to turn him down. Cordelia had a field day with it - head cheerleader going on a date with one of the biggest nerds in school. It was all completely stupid and beyond immature."

Head cheerleader? William thought. That gave him a very pleasant mental image – pom-poms, perky pigtails, short skirt, tight sweater. He shook his head and focused on the other issue that phrase had brought to mind. "Um, how old are you, pet?"

"I'm twenty-one, Will. You saw my ID last night, remember?"

William nodded. She'd been carded when they ordered their first bottle of wine; he'd nabbed it from her before she could put it away and proceeded to mock her predictably-awful picture. "Right. And when was this cheerleader-nerd date? Three years ago? Four?"

Buffy paled at his harsh tone, then spoke so quietly William had to strain to hear her. "Last year."

"And so I ask again, how old are you?"

She pulled her shoulders up around her ears and mumbled something indistinct.

William grabbed Buffy's upper arm and shook her lightly. "What was that?" He tried to keep the anger out of his voice, but he could tell by the way Buffy looked at him with frightened eyes that he wasn't very successful.

"I said, I'm nineteen!" she snapped at him.

William sighed and released his hold on her. “Well, that’s a soddin’ relief,” he said. “You scared me for me a minute there.”

“Does that mean you don’t think I’m too young for you?” Buffy asked, wide eyes fixed anxiously on his face.

He opened his arms and she crawled into his embrace. “That’s exactly what that means,” he reassured her. “Although if you think I’m going to be supplying you with liquor from now on, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Buffy nodded. “Oh, that’s okay, Will. I have a fake ID, you know. I can buy my own booze.”

"You," William said with tolerance, "are a brat."

Buffy folded her arms across her chest and held her head up as haughtily as she knew how. "And what, Mr. Pratt, do you intend to do about it?"

At that provocation, William lunged.

***

It was almost noon before William stirred again. He watched Buffy sleep for a moment, her hair spread across the pillow and her hands flung up beside her face. The temptation was soon too much to resist; he nudged up against her, nuzzled into her neck, gave her earlobe a playful bite. She came awake with a start.

"Oh, hi," she said. "Can I help you with something?"

William shook his head. "Like you when you're awake. You get all wiggly. It’s just… neat." He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Buffy groaned. "Again? I think you broke me, Will. I’m sore in places I didn’t know I had places.”

William gave her puppy-dog eyes and slithered one hand between her thighs. "I'll be gentle, promise."

Buffy gasped as his barely-there touch caressed her. “William! I’m serious.”

William heaved a hugely exaggerated sigh but removed his hand without protest. “Have I told you how nice it is to have you in my bed?”

“Maybe once or twice,” she smiled. “And look, you didn’t even have to tie me up to keep me here.” William’s eyes crossed and Buffy laughed. She stroked one little hand down his chest and gently traced the lines of his abs. “Do you want to know a secret?” she asked.

William swallowed and nodded.

Buffy crawled up his body, wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. She gently licked the outer shell of his ear. “It’s very, very nice to be in your bed,” she whispered finally. She positioned her face directly over his and they stared into each other’s eyes for a long, melting minute. As one they moved towards each other in a soft discovery of one another’s mouths.

“I’d like to keep you in my bed for days,” William murmured against her mouth when they stopped for breath.

“Sounds good to me,” Buffy agreed. “Might wreak havoc on the job, though. Not that I’d miss mine…” She rubbed her nose against his.

“It’s a plan, pet,” William laughed. “You quit your job and we can spend, oh, the next month in bed.”

Buffy pouted. “Only a month? What happens after that?”

“I have to go to work, of course.” William reached up and sucked her full bottom lip into his mouth.

Buffy broke the kiss with a regretful whimper and placed both hands flat on the bed, one on either side of William’s head. “What is it you do, William?” she asked.

“I’m a teacher.” He reached up and smoothed her increasingly-wild hair behind her ear. “Starting a new job at the end of August.”

Buffy turned her head into his touch. “Now, let me think… what would you possibly teach? History of Punk Rock? British Insults for Beginners? French-kissing 101?” She gasped with laughter as William began tickling her.

“So sassy, little Buffy,” William scolded. “Whatever am I going to do with you?” He paused for a moment to let her catch her breath.

Buffy’s stomach responded to his question with a long, loud rumble. She bit her lip and looked up at him. “Um, you could start by feeding me,” she suggested.

William disentangled himself from Buffy’s twining limbs. “Your wish is my command, sunshine.” He got out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and tossed a t-shirt Buffy’s way. “C’mon, you can make sure I don’t set the kitchen on fire.”

***

William and Buffy sat cross-legged on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table. The remnants of their meal littered the surface of the table. Buffy reached for another orange segment and ate it slowly, a replete sigh escaping her as she did so. "Wow, I was really hungry," she commented as she surveyed the mostly-empty dishes.

"Worked up an appetite," William stated. He pushed himself up onto his knees and leaned across the table to capture Buffy's lips. She tasted of oranges and maple syrup and coffee. Her mouth was sticky. "God, you're delicious," he murmured as he pulled away from her. He drank in the sight of her, mouth swollen from his kisses and hair a tangled mess, clad in his favorite Ramones t-shirt. "You're a bloody dream come true," he said admiringly.

"You're not too bad yourself," Buffy replied. She snaked her hand around the back of William's neck and tugged him down for another long kiss. They were both panting when they parted. Buffy leaned her forehead on William's and gripped his face in her hands. "Mmm... I hate to say it, but I should really get going."

William shook his head. "Nope. You're my prisoner, and I say you aren't going anywhere. 'Cept maybe back to bed with me."

"Would if I could," Buffy said regretfully. "Can I use your shower before I go?" William smiled at the thought of wet, naked, soapy Buffy. The direction of his thoughts must have been plainly evident on his face, because Buffy quickly added, "Alone." At his pout, she gave him a light kiss. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." With one more kiss and a coquettish smile she stood up and made her way to the bathroom.

***

William had just finished cleaning the kitchen when she appeared, freshly scrubbed and shiny, and smelling of his soap. He dried his hands on a towel and pulled her into his arms. “Can I give you a ride home?”

Buffy hesitated briefly. “No, but thank you.” She ran her hands up and down his bare back, finally settling her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. They stood together silently for a moment.

“When can I see you again?” William asked. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the note of mild desperation in his question.

Buffy smiled up at him. “I’m closing the diner on Tuesday. I could come over when I’m done,” she suggested.

William nodded his agreement and pulled her closer for a last, lingering kiss.

Tuesday morning found William making his way through the open-air farmer’s market in downtown. He selected steaks, potatoes, herbs, vegetables and lettuce for a salad, and stopped finally to peruse a selection of cut flowers. A bold bunch of sunflowers caught his eye and he added those to his purchases. He strolled home slowly, enjoying the clear summer day.

The rest of the day dragged past. William cleaned the house, organized his desk, and sat down to work on creating the syllabi for the classes he was teaching in the fall. He went for a long, punishing run. He thought about Buffy. He thought about getting a dog. He thought about Buffy. He sang all the songs off The Ramones – from memory, and loudly – to distract himself from thoughts of Buffy. He tried to write a poem because he couldn’t stop thinking about Buffy.

William crumpled up the paper he’d been scribbling his scattered thoughts upon and threw it across the room with a groan. “Stupid bloody ponce,” he cursed himself. “Love poems have never done you any good.” In frustration, he scrounged through the kitchen for his fags. He found a crumpled pack in the back of a drawer and sat on the back porch chain-smoking the battered cigarettes. He didn’t feel any better when they were gone.

***

The diner lights were still on when William walked down the street. He peered through the front window and saw Buffy wiping down tables and turning chairs up. He knocked lightly. She glanced up and smiled widely when she saw him. She held up one hand and mouthed "five minutes" at him. He nodded and waited contentedly for her to emerge.

He snuck up behind her as she was locking the door and buried his nose in the mass of loose golden curls at the nape of her neck. She jumped.

"Hey, that tickles," she protested as she turned to face him.

William slid his arms around her waist; her arms twined around his neck. Their lips met in a soft kiss that quickly turned deeper, rougher, and left them both panting for air. "Hi," William murmured, smoothing a hand down her silky hair.

"Hi," Buffy returned. "This is a nice surprise, you showing up here."

"Couldn't let my girl walk around at night by herself," William explained.

Buffy crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. "I can take care of myself, you know," she informed him.

"I have no doubt, pet," William pacified her. She wiggled out of his arms and gave him a glare. The effect was somewhat muted by her still-pouty expression. William planted a light kiss on her forehead and snagged one of her hands. "Come on, love, I've got supper waiting for you at home."

***

William watched with a kind of awe as Buffy polished off her third helping of potatoes. She glanced up and caught his expression.

"Um, everything's really good," she said sheepishly. "It's been a long time since I've had a home-cooked meal. Diner food and ramen noodles get a little sickening after a while. I think," she said thoughtfully, serving herself a touch more salad, “I’m even getting sick of pizza.”

“Not a cook, then, I take it?”

“Well, I can make breakfast, as long as it’s pop-tarts or cereal. And I make a mean spaghetti. By which I mean, I can boil water and put spaghetti noodles in it for seven to ten minutes while I warm up a jar of spaghetti sauce.”

“No wonder you’re so skinny,” William commented.

“Too skinny?” Buffy questioned.

“Told ya, pet,” William reassured her, “you’re perfect. But you could stand to eat regular meals more often, couldn’ ya?”

Buffy shrugged, noncommittal on the subject, and pushed her plate away. “Are you an English teacher, William?” she asked suddenly.

He blinked at the abrupt subject change. “Yes, I am. English literature, some contemporary American lit.”

“Where are you going to be working?”

William leaned back in his chair. “You are looking at William J. Pratt, Associate Professor of English, Sunnydale University.”

Buffy laughed. “Professor Spike. I like it.”

“Should I expect you in class, then, pet?” William smiled.

She shook her head. “Have to finish high school to get into college,” she explained.

“Wanna clarify that one?”

Buffy looked at him guiltily. “I, uh, I sort of got expelled.”

William didn’t even bother to ask.

“Remember Cordelia?”

He nodded.

“I broke her nose at Homecoming, completely by accid… well, not completely by accident, because I meant to punch her, but I didn’t mean to break anything, and besides, it’s not my fault the girl has no reflexes. Also: she totally deserved it. She was being really mean to my date!”

William laughed.

“Cordy’s dad, before he got busted for tax fraud, was, like, insanely rich. So he donated a whole lot of money to the school and Principal Snyder conveniently agreed that I was a bad influence on the student body.”

William wasn’t laughing any longer. “And how, exactly, does a school get away with that?”

“Didn’t have anyone to fight it for me. If Mom had been there…” Buffy stopped and looked away from William’s intent blue gaze. She took a deep breath and continued, never looking at him. “She would have made Snyder back down, maybe suspend me at the most. It’s not like Cordy was even mad at me, but her dad was pissed he had to finally shell out for her dream nose.” She turned to him then and met his eyes. “I’m… I’m working on my GED. It’s not like I don’t want to go to college.”

William reached for her hand. “Buffy.” She swallowed. “Buffy,” he said again, “you don’t have to apologize to me for anything about you. Certainly not that some poxy bugger got you booted outta school.”

Buffy smiled faintly. Then she stood up with the saucy grin he was seriously coming to love. “I think I made you a promise last time I was here,” she said.

William raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

She blushed. “It involved a shower…”

He had wet, naked, soapy Buffy in no time flat.

***

“Buffy?”

“William?”

It was much later; they were warm and tired and curled around each other in his dark bedroom. He snaked a finger up her leg, across the curve of her hip, up her back. He pressed his hand between the sharp wings of her shoulder blades. “Buffy, when… how long ago was it your mum died?”

She stilled beneath his hand, no longer leaning into his touch, not even breathing. He looked down at her where she lay against his chest. Her big eyes turned up to his slowly.

“It was a year ago,” she said quietly. “Exactly a year the night I met you, actually.”

“Which is why you were out looking for me?”

Buffy nodded.

He pulled her closer to him, surprised such a thing was even possible, and traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. She shivered.

“I’m very glad I found you,” she whispered. Her hot mouth latched onto the spot on his neck that made him lose all ability for coherent thought.

“Unh, me… me, too, pet,” he managed to groan before his brain shorted out.

***

Two weeks of Buffy exposure had William nearly inured to her constant presence in his thoughts and in his dreams. He quickly grew accustomed to meeting her at the diner after her shift and plying her with simple, hearty, home-cooked meals. They specialized in long walks and picnics during her mornings and early afternoons off. He watched her evening routine nearly every night, and became firmly convinced that whoever thought up moisturizing was a bleeding genius and a saint. Buffy teasingly complained about her rapidly depleted lotion bottles.

This night, they lay entwined on the couch, a forgotten movie playing quietly in the background while they exchanged long, lazy kisses. William’s body pressed against hers; Buffy’s hands tangled in his hair. William propped himself up on his elbows and brushed his hands down the sides of Buffy’s face.

She smiled at him, her thousand-watt smile that shot straight to his heart. William bent back to her lips, ran his hands down her sides. His fingertips caught the hem of her shirt and tugged upwards. She trembled when his skin met hers. He pulled the shirt over Buffy’s head and tossed it aside. Then he slid his hands up her still upraised arms and encircled her wrists in his fingers. He pushed her against the cushions as he returned to trailing kisses across her skin.

She tensed up beneath him. “Get… let me go!” she gasped.

He released her immediately. Buffy pushed herself up and into the corner of the couch. She strapped her arms across her bare chest and stared at him. Her eyes were huge and scared. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I guess I didn’t like that.”

William dragged his hands through his hair. “When are you going to tell me the truth, Buffy?” he demanded suddenly.

Her chin came up, stiff and stubborn. “The truth about what?”

“D’you think I’m stupid? There’s obviously something going on, Buffy, and I…” He knelt in front of her, hands on her knees. “I can help you, pet, if you’ll just let me.”

She stared at him with sorrowful eyes. He resisted the urge to shake her. “What is it you think is going on, William?” Her voice was cool.

“Well, I don’t fuckin’ know, do I?” he yelled. “’Cause you don’t soddin’ tell me anything about yourself that isn’t ancient history, you don’t talk about your family, I don’t even know where you live!” He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “If someone’s hurtin’ you… All you need to do, Buffy, is talk to me.”

“I… Will, it’s… it’s not going to happen anymore. It isn’t happening anymore! Can we leave it at that?”

Her admission floored him momentarily. When he thought of it, since those first couple of times, he hadn’t noticed any bruises on her. Just her sad eyes when she thought he wasn’t watching her, and now those words…’it’s not going to happen anymore…’ He saw red.

“No, we bloody well cannot ‘leave it at that’!” William roared. Buffy flinched further into the couch. He pushed himself up off the floor and paced angrily across the living room. He came to a stop in front of her, chest heaving and fists clenched tightly at his sides. He got a good look at her face and sank onto the couch next to her, took her quivering form into his arms. “Explain it to me, Buffy. Make me understand what is going on with you. Talk to me.” He was pleading, tears flowing silently down his cheeks as he held her.

Buffy extricated herself from his embrace and retrieved her shirt. She slammed her feet into her shoes as William watched silently. She grabbed her bag and looked at William, her face expressionless. “Come on,” she said.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he slowly stood up. His skin felt too tight.

“My place.” She stalked out the door, not bothering to look back to see if he was following her.

Buffy’s place was in a decidedly unpalatable part of town. Low-rent, run-down houses fronted by almost uniformly scrubby yards gave way to a grotty business district. William spotted a bar even more notorious than The Alibi Room, two pawnshops, and a payday loan operation in the space of one block.

Buffy ducked into a dark alley between a greasy spoon and one of the pawnshops. She opened a heavy metal door and glanced back at him for the first time since leading him out of his house into the night. She didn’t say anything, just held the door open for him to pass by her into a narrow staircase. They walked slowly up the stairs together in a ringing silence to a door adorned with a cheery ceramic flower and a placard reading ‘2E’. Buffy unlocked it and stepped across the threshold.

“Here we are,” she said. “Home sweet home.”

The apartment was one not-very-large room. A mini fridge and a hotplate on a rickety table standing next to a minute pantry and sink, plumbing exposed, comprised the kitchen area. A full-size bed dominated the wall opposite the kitchen. The dingy walls were, for the most part, bare. The only decoration, the only thing that made William believe this was Buffy’s home, was a large framed photograph of Buffy with an attractive blond woman and a younger, dark-haired girl. They sat beneath a cedar tree in dappled sunshine; they all had the same bright smile.

“Your mum?” He gestured to the picture.

Buffy nodded.

“Who’s the Little Bit?”

“That’s, um, that’s my sister.” Buffy turned to close the door, effectively hiding her reaction from William.

“And where is li’l sis?” He didn’t move or look away from his perusal of the family portrait. He thought Buffy’s smile was blinding now? It was nothing to the smile on the carefree girl in the picture.

Buffy sat down on the bed. “Iowa. Our aunt Darlene volunteered to take Dawnie. She left a few weeks ago. She really didn’t want to leave.” She paused. Her voice, when she spoke again, was very quiet. “I didn’t want to let her go.”

“And why aren’t you with your family?” William glanced at her.

Her shoulders dropped. “Wasn’t invited. I’m too much trouble.”

William was suddenly at her side. “Now I don’t believe that for a minute, kitten,” he murmured in her ear as he pulled her snug against him.

She shrugged his arm off her shoulders. “Well, believe it,” she snapped. “As if getting expelled wasn’t enough, I got busted for underage drinking. Darlene wants nothing to do with me. And obviously I can’t be trusted with a twelve year old.” She laughed bitterly and swept her gaze around the bleak room. “Where the hell would I even put a twelve year old? This is no place for a little girl.”

“This is no place for you, pet,” he commented before he could stop himself.

Buffy turned her snapping eyes on him. “I don’t need your pity!” Tension poured off her in palpable waves. William edged away from her slightly.

“You don’t have it,” he said calmly. “I don’t have to feel sorry for you to know that you deserve so much better than this.”

Her mood changed in an instant. Her eyes darkened and she swung herself across his lap, pressing her hips down as her fingers deftly opened the first three buttons on his shirt. “Tell me what it is I deserve, then, Mr. Pratt,” she demanded.

William was spooked. He grasped her upper arms gently and held her away from him. “Uh, Buffy, what are you doing?”

She bent forward and kissed him very softly. Her hips ratcheted downwards; at his gasp, her tongue slipped into his mouth. His grip on her arms relaxed as her lips trailed across his jaw to latch onto his ear. “I want to not feel so sad right now, William,” she whispered. “I want you to make me feel better.” She sat back on his lap. He eyed her warily. “Please,” she added in a husky voice. She balanced above him, her loose curls cascading around her face and shoulders.

William let a few strands slip like liquid silk through his fingers. “How she let her long hair down over her shoulders, making a love cave around her face,” he quoted softly.

“What’s that?” Buffy stilled above him, her eyes wide. He felt a flush rise in his cheeks.

“It’s from a poem,” he admitted sheepishly.

“You’re reciting poetry to me?” Buffy asked. He nodded, abashed, and she pressed her slight weight against him so that they fell together to the mattress. “Yes, please,” she laughed in his ear.

It took nothing more than him declaiming the poem with his mouth against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, for her to come, hard, screaming his name.

***

William stared blankly at the ceiling, tracing idle circles on Buffy’s shoulder. His thoughts were in a jumble. The one thought coming through clearly was this: he very much doubted that just now having sex with the endearingly persuasive girl lying in his arms had been a good idea. A sigh escaped him. Buffy’s head lifted off his chest; she rested the sharp point of her chin on his sternum.

“What are you thinking right now, Will?” she asked earnestly. Her clever hands made one long swoop down his sides, from his armpits to the crest of his hipbone.

William rolled them so they were lying face to face on their sides. “Do you feel better? Happier?” he inquired.

Buffy bit her bottom lip. “Happier,” she said finally, contemplatively, as if it were an alien concept. Her eyes were very green. “Well, yes, I am. It’s all relative, isn’t it?”

“Is that… is that what we’ve been about? Helping you feel better when you’re sad?” He tried not to sound accusing. It was difficult.

Buffy rose to her knees and faced him. “Is that what you think? Of us? Of me?”

William opened his mouth but she covered it with a hand before he could speak.

“The first time… yes, William, I was using you to forget about my mother and the fact that I was losing my sister, too. But you’ve already figured that out.” He nodded silently. She twisted her hands together on her naked thighs. Then her hands were grasping his face between them and he was mesmerized. “I cannot tell you how thankful I am every. single. day. that it was you I chose. Do you honestly think someone else would have treated me the way you did? I know how I was acting that night.”

William nodded again. His chest hurt. He circled her delicate wrists with his thumbs and forefingers. “Jesus, Buffy,” he exhaled.

“What did I say to you right before we left the bar?”

William looked down at her hand and then slowly back at her laughing eyes. He felt a grin crack his face. It began to sink through his drunken haze that this girl was seriously coming on to him.

"You’re a bloody miracle worker, kitten. How can I ever thank you?”

She leaned over with the sweetest smile, pressed her lips to his ear, and gave him a stirring suggestion for exactly how he could best express his gratitude.

“I want to ride you at a gallop until your knees buckle. I’ve got muscles you’ve never even dreamed of; I want to squeeze you till you pop like warm champagne, and hear you beg me to hurt you just a little bit more. Think that’ll make us even?”

He swallowed hard, closed both their tabs – hers was impressively large for such a little chit – and they were gone.

Buffy laughed delightedly when he repeated her words verbatim.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What? ‘S not the sort of thing a man forgets.”

“I learned that from my cousin. She guaranteed it would be memorable. Guess she was right.” Buffy leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I don’t think she intended me to use it on a perfect stranger, of course. I really am lucky it was you. Don’t think I don’t know that. But yeah, I was using you. I’m sorry about that, only because you deserve better than that. Since then, Will… since then, it’s always been about us. Not about you making me feel better. The fact that you make all my bad feelings better? That’s just a Buffy Summers bonus.”

William scooted back in the bed, resting his back against the cool plaster wall. He pulled Buffy into his arms, and she relaxed against his chest, tugging his arms tightly around her middle. She held his hand in both of hers. “Can’t imagine anyone wantin’ to hurt you, pet,” he muttered. He buried his face in the curve of her neck.

Buffy took a deep breath and sidled out of his arms to perch on the edge of the bed. William took in her profile, waiting for her to speak, move, anything to indicate that he hadn’t just said the completely wrong thing.

“Something you wanna talk about, Goldilocks?” he said finally.

Buffy smiled wanly as she nodded. “Yes. Just, can you not look at me when I tell you?”

William was in front of Buffy in a flash, his hands on hers where they clutched her knees, his eyes fixed on hers. "You listen to me," he said with passion, "you say anything to me that you need to. ‘S not gonna make me change my mind about you. I know it’s only been a few weeks, I know we barely know each other, but I don't need to know what’s your favorite color or who your childhood hero was. I don’t need to know any more about you than I do right now. I know you, Buffy. You’re a good, sweet girl with a kind heart. So don't you think there's anything you can tell me that's gonna make me think otherwise." He released her hands and took a seat next to her on the bed, looking pointedly straight ahead.

“Pink,” she said quietly. He shot her a questioning glance and she smiled. “My favorite color.” She was quiet then for a long time. Her voice, when she began talking, was steady and calm. “I promised my mom, just before her surgery, that I would take care of Dawn. Hell, I made that promise the day my parents brought her home from the hospital. It was my job to make sure she was safe. But I can’t do it anymore.”

William gripped the edge of the mattress firmly in his hands and resisted the temptation to pull her into his arms. He dared a glance in her direction. She was staring at the floor, her long locks hiding her face.

“Don’t look, please, Will,” she said.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“He would leave her alone when I was around. I… I made sure he noticed me, not her. But it stopped working.” She took a shuddering breath. “So I sent her away.”

A silence fell between them. After a minute, William finally felt free to speak. “Who’s,” his voice caught, “who’s ‘he’, Buffy?”

“Ted.” Her voice was full of venom. “My stepfather.”

William couldn’t feel his feet, or he would have stood up. It took him a moment to form more words. “The bruises,” he said finally. “They were because of him.” He felt stupid even saying it aloud, but he needed to hear it from her.

“Yes.” She touched his hand lightly, briefly. “They got married when I was eleven. He was… he was nice. He was there for us the way our dad should have been. He bought me and Dawn bikes for Christmas. He helped with our homework, he came to all our school plays, he got Dawnie a kitten for her seventh birthday...” Buffy stopped again. She stifled a sob.

William closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He trembled with a powerless rage.

“I heard Dawn crying in the middle of the night, and found him in her room. It wasn’t even a week after Mom’s funeral.” Buffy stood and paced back and forth between the bed and the sink. “I tried to hit him, and he just laughed at me. Said he could do whatever he wanted and no little girl was going to stop him.”

She came to a halt in front of him. He met her eyes and read the trepidation there. He reached for her hand and pulled it blindly to his lips. Buffy pulled away slowly and sat down next to him once more. When he turned to look at her, she merely shook her head. He looked at his feet side-by-side with hers.

“I told him I would do anything he wanted, as long as he never, ever touched Dawn again. He agreed. That lasted until almost two months ago. I couldn’t keep her safe any longer. So now Dawn’s gone and I’m here. Alone.” She sighed heavily.

William shook his head. “I… I don’t know quite what to say, pet,” he said honestly. He felt her stiffen and turned to her. “Buffy, couldn’t you have turned him in? Gotten help from someone, anyone?”

Buffy shrugged. “I still wouldn’t have my sister,” she said. Her voice was flat. “She’d be in foster care, or with our aunt, or god forbid, with one of his sisters. That’s part of it. I didn’t know where Dawn would end up. He’d adopted her. She was so little when they got married, and he asked if he could be her new daddy, and she said yes.” For the first time, Buffy started crying, big silent tears that streaked unnoticed down her face. “I promised I would take care of her. I tried. I tried. But I’m so tired of it, Will. And I’m glad she’s gone,” she added fiercely, sitting up very straight. “I’m happy every day that she’s not here, because it means I’m free.” A great, wracking sob tore through her.

William felt something give in his chest. He put an arm around his girl and pulled her onto his lap. She trembled like a windblown leaf in his arms. He stroked his hands soothingly up and down her back and whispered nonsense into her tangled hair. Buffy murmured something into his chest.

“What was that?”

She pulled away from him slightly and took one of his hands in both of hers, turning it over and tracing the lines on his palm. She wouldn’t look at him. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to see me anymore,” she repeated. “Just, please, stay tonight. I can’t… The thing I hate the most is being alone.” Her big eyes wavered up to his.

William crashed his lips against hers, snugged her against him so tightly he felt the breath squeeze out of her. “Told ya, kitten,” he whispered. “Not gonna make me change my mind about you.” He scooted back on the bed, Buffy still in his arms, and lay down with her on top of him. He tugged the comforter over their naked bodies. They were asleep in minutes.

***

William woke before her and eased out of bed slowly. A quick peek through her cupboards and fridge turned up nothing he considered edible. His next stop was the bathroom, where he was unsurprised to find a salon-worthy collection of creams, lotions, and soaps. With a grin, he snapped on the shower and crept back into the other room to wake Buffy.

“C’mon, pet,” he murmured in her ear. She batted him away. He changed tactics and leaned in closer. She was being stubborn. He recited “may i feel said he” in its entirety before Buffy was out of bed and in the shower with him.

He came into her slowly, enjoying the little gasps and moans she emitted as she enveloped him in her warmth. He pressed her back up against the tile wall. She arched away from the cool surface, much to his delight; her breast was now conveniently located for him to teasingly flick one pert nipple with his tongue. He moved inside her once, twice, three times. He braced his forearms on the wall on either side of her head and pressed against her firmly. Then he stilled within her.

“D’you feel me, Buffy?” he demanded hoarsely. Her head was thrown back and she gave no answer. He licked a hot path down her extended throat. “I asked,” he said as he bit at her pulsating jugular, “d’you feel me?”

She nodded. She managed to open her eyes and stare at him with something very close to awe. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders; her legs cinched around his waist in an effort to make him move.

“D’you feel like you’re alone, Buffy? Is this what alone feels like? Or d’you feel me here with you?” He took her ear in his teeth and moved his hips in a slow, maddening circle.

“Oh, god, you’re here, Will,” Buffy sobbed. “You’re here, stay here with me, oh my god, Will.” Her legs spasmed around him and she reached one hand down between them, searching for her release.

“Naughty, Buffy,” William scolded, stopping her errant hand. But he took pity on her and began thrusting rhythmically into her. She came, screaming and clutching his hair, in no time.

When she could breathe evenly again, the water was cold and they had both begun to shiver. William let her slide down his body, keeping one arm wrapped around her waist as her knees wobbled, and turned off the spray.

It was while he was toweling her dry that she finally spoke. “I lied before,” she said. William’s hands stopped and he sought her eyes. She was grinning at him. “The blue of your eyes, William, that’s my favorite color.”

William sat bolt upright in bed when the screeching of the smoke alarm started. Crashes and clangs had been emerging from the kitchen for a while, interspersed with muffled curses. He had stayed put, despite his curiosity. Now, though, he slid out of bed and into a pair of jeans.

He emerged from the bedroom to see Buffy frantically waving a dishtowel beneath the smoke alarm, attempting to disperse the cloud of smoke that had filled the hallway.

She was wearing nothing but his t-shirt – her typical just-rolled-out-of-bed wear – and her hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. William walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist.

“Oh!” she said in surprise. “You’re supposed to be sleeping!” She turned on him with a scowl on her full lips.

William laughed and kissed her. “You think I can sleep through you burning my house down?”

Buffy pouted. “It’s a very little fire,” she joked. She flapped the towel at the smoke alarm again. “Can you shut this thing up?”

William nodded and reached up to remove the batteries from the device. They both sighed in relief at the ensuing silence. Buffy hurried back into the kitchen, and William trailed in behind her, more than a little worried about what he would find.

It wasn’t as bad as he feared following the cookie incident the week before. Eggshells and crumbs were scattered across the cupboard, but the rest of the kitchen was tidy, at least by Buffy standards. A pan of scrambled eggs steamed on the stove, looking surprisingly well cooked. A pile of toast warmed on a plate at the back of the stove, and William spied a bowl of apple and orange slices on the cupboard next to the refrigerator. The source of the smoke was a pan of blackened bacon currently taking up residence in the sink. Buffy was spraying the pan down with water; she had opened the back door wide to air out the room.

“What’re you up to in here, pet?” William asked. He strolled across the room to pour himself a cup of the freshly brewed coffee.

Buffy turned to him with a small smile on her face. “I was making you breakfast, duh! It’s your first day of school, thought I should send you off with a full tummy.” She ran one hand across his bare abdomen and grinned when his muscles tensed under her touch.

William set his coffee mug down and took her in his arms. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he purred. “My thoughtful girl. Breakfast looks delectable. Don’ like bacon, anyway.” He smiled down at her anxious face.

Buffy skipped out of his arms and loaded up a plate with eggs, toast, and fruit. She led him to the table and watched him eagerly as he began eating. He took a bite of eggs and managed to keep his expression neutral as he swallowed.

“Very… flavorful,” he said. Buffy narrowed her eyes and snatched the fork out of his hand before he could stop her.

“Oh my god, what did I do?” she said, looking at him in horror.

“’S not that bad, sweetness,” he assured her. “But... did you put vanilla in the eggs?”

Buffy shook her head. “I’m not a good cook, Will, but I’m not stupid! It’s just eggs and cheese and milk.”

“Uh, kitten, the only milk I have is vanilla soymilk.” William laughed at her vexed expression. “I appreciate the thought, love. Can’t tell you the last time anyone’s cooked for me.”

Buffy jumped up and retrieved a small paper bag from the counter. “I made you lunch, too!” she announced proudly.

William took in the offering with a wary eye. “Thanks.”

Buffy caught his tone. “It’s PB&J,” she huffed. “Kinda hard for even me to screw up. Trust me, your inner twelve year old will love it.”

William pulled Buffy down onto his lap and slid one hand up her leg beneath the hem of her shirt. His fingers teased her as he nuzzled into her neck, nibbling gently at her earlobe. She hummed and turned so she was straddling his legs. William pushed her shirt over her head and buried his nose in her armpit. Buffy jumped and tried to get away.

"Ew, William, I haven't showered yet!" she protested.

He grinned at her. "Like the way you smell when we've been shaggin' all night long." He gave her armpit a little lick, delighted at the way she wriggled against him. "Eau de Buffy," he said. "Sex an' sweat an'... hmm, is that my spunk, all the way up here?"

"Okay, ick, and also: that's what happens when you… when you…”

He quirked an eyebrow at her hesitance. "When I come all over your luscious little titties? That what you can't quite say?" Buffy's blush answered his question. He ran a gentle thumb over each perky nipple, gaining another full-body wriggle for his troubles. "Weren't so bashful ‘bout it last night," he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes at him. "You are such a pig sometimes."

"You love it, and you know it."

"Okay, I love it, now will you please get your face out of there? It tickles!"

William moved his mouth to her breasts in answer. "Mmm, so tasty," he murmured. "Could just have you for breakfast."

Without waiting for a response, William lifted her onto the table, quickly shoving his breakfast dishes out of the way, and dove in headfirst. All-you-can-eat Buffy buffet, was his last coherent thought. He licked and bit at her delicious quim until she was squirming and babbling his name amidst incoherent words of pleasure. Her hands grabbed two stinging fistfuls of hair and tugged, hard. “Need you,” she panted. “Need you in me now, Will, please.”

William grinned and licked his smeary lips as the buttons of his fly popped open. He pushed his jeans past his hips, yanked Buffy into his arms, and slammed her up against the refrigerator. She slid onto his aching cock with a low, satisfied moan.

“Oh, god, Buffy,” William groaned. He captured her lips with his as he thrust slowly into her. Their tongues battled as their bodies spiraled out of control. Buffy pulled away from his mouth and sank her teeth into his neck. He came with a roar at the same time he felt her inner muscles fluttering around him.

“Oh, god, Buffy,” he repeated. "God, I love you!"

It was very quiet after that. All William could hear was the echo of his words. He met Buffy's eyes.

"What did... did you just...?" she stammered.

William was helpless to do anything but nod.

"Oh."

William nodded again. Can stop playin' mute anytime, you bloody stupid twonk, his inner voice chided him.

Buffy wiggled. "Down, please? Kinda got a door handle in a not-comfy spot."

William blinked at her, nodded one more time for good measure – fuckin' bobble-head, that voice interjected –and set her gently on her feet. When she was standing in front of him, an inscrutable expression on her face, he finally managed to find his voice. "I'm sorry, I din't mean..."

"Don't worry about it," Buffy interrupted. Her voice was chipper. "People say all sorts of things when they're, um, getting a happy. You don't have to explain."

He grasped her chin in his hand and forced her to look at him. "I wasn't explaining it away, pet," he said firmly. "I was gonna say, I din't mean to say that to you when I was fuckin' you up against a major appliance."

Buffy giggled. "Oh." Then her eyes got big and round and scared. "Oh!”

"Yeah, 'oh'," William said solemnly. He released his grip on her chin and let his hands wander across her bare back. "I mean it, Buffy," he whispered. "I love you."

She melted into his arms for a second. "Okay," she whispered back. Then she was stepping out of his embrace. She retrieved her t-shirt and slipped it on before turning to the sink and filling it with hot, soapy water.

William watched her for the space of a minute. Okay? his brain raged. Okay? OKAY?

"Okay?!" he hollered, once his mouth had caught up to his brain.

Buffy flinched.

"Ah hell, I'm sorry, pet," William said. "I'm a complete berk."

"Does that mean you're a big stupid meanie?" Buffy shot back. "Cause if it does, I totally agree with you."

"Yeah, that's exactly what it means," William said desperately. "I'm gonna... I need to get ready for work. Before I say anything else stupid."

Buffy nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. He backed out of the kitchen and went mechanically through the routine of shower, shave, and dress. The whole time, those four words kept cycling themselves through his mind.

“I love you.”

“Okay.”

***

William was just pulling a blazer on over a plain black t-shirt when Buffy entered the bedroom. He turned to her as she gathered up her clothes. "How do I look, pet?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice calm.

Buffy turned a critical eye on him. "You look like an easy A."

"C’mon, really.”

She grinned. "Really. Sorry, t-shirt and jeans screams ‘I want you to think I’m the cool young professor, so everyone's getting an A.'" She strode across the room and pushed the jacket off his shoulders before tugging the shirt out of his jeans. Her voice got husky and she dropped him a wink. "Strip off for me, Professor Pratt, and I'll fix you up right.”

William swallowed and, as ever when it came to Buffy, did as he was told.

Buffy rummaged through his closet for a few minutes before emerging with black dress pants, a black chambray shirt, and a dark gray jacket. She glanced at him, standing by the bed naked but for his socks, shook her head, and moved to the dresser, where she retrieved one of his three pairs of boxer-briefs. "Rule one for college professors: please wear underwear," she lectured him.

William stifled a groan as he complied. He drew the line, however, when she started making noises about a tie. "No bloody way," he grumbled. "Can't fuckin' breathe in those things."

Buffy laughed at him, held his jacket for him to shrug into, and then led him into the bathroom. She sat him down on the toilet seat and proceeded to mess with his hair till he thought he'd go mad. Just as he reached the end of his patience, she placed one hand on either side of his face. Her eyes were very serious.

"I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier," she said quietly. "I... I know that's not what you wanted to hear from me."

"Buffy, I didn't say it to get a canned response," William said. He took her hands in his and drew her down onto his lap. "You don't have to feel guilty for not telling your idiot boyfriend you love him a month after you met."

"More like a month and a half," Buffy murmured. She met his surprised eyes. "Not that I'm keeping track," she said quickly.

"'Course not," William agreed stoutly. He kissed her lightly and nudged her off his lap. "Certainly hope you're done playing dress up, pet, cause I have got to go," he said, glancing at the time.

Buffy eyed him up and down, pursed her lips, made one last adjustment to his hair, and pronounced him done.

"You'll be here when I get home, yeah?" William asked.

Buffy smiled enigmatically and nodded. He strode out the door after one last kiss. He was opening his car door when Buffy called his name from the front porch.

"You forgot your lunch!" she scolded him.

William sauntered up the steps, savoring the sight of her long bare legs beneath his Ramones’ tee and her just-been-fucked hair. He took the brown paper sack from her, stroking one long finger along her wrist as he did. "Thanks.” He eyed her up and down, casually smirking at the blush the suffused her skin. “C’mere, kitten, I wanna tell you something.” She leaned into him and he planted his lips against her ear. “Love, you’ve got egg in your hair.”

William couldn’t erase the goofy grin from his face, even as he called his first class of the day to order.

Music was playing loudly when William arrived home. He grinned to himself; Buffy was blasting The Sex Pistols. One more item for the “Ways Buffy is Perfect” list he carried around in his head and added to daily.

William walked into the house to find the living room deserted. “Hello?” he called over the music. He deposited his satchel on the couch and continued down the hall to the bedroom. He quickly changed into his more comfortable costume of jeans and t-shirt. Wandering into the kitchen, William caught a glimpse of movement in the backyard.

He stepped onto the back porch just as Buffy performed a series of cartwheels and flips across the grass. He admired the flash of her bronzed limbs, bared by a pair of cut-off denim shorts and a skimpy pink tank top. She landed in a panting heap at the foot of the stairs and smiled crookedly at him.

“Hi honey, you’re home,” she said. “How was the first day of school, Professor?”

“Not near as much fun as home, it would seem,” he replied. He pulled her up off the ground and into his embrace for a long kiss. “How was your day, pet?”

“Oh, it was an ass-grabbing good time!” Buffy said with brittle cheer. At William’s questioning look, she continued. “One of my customers got a little handsy during the lunch rush. So I – whoops – dumped a milkshake on his head.”

William laughed. “Good on you.”

Buffy sat on the steps with a sigh. “Yeah, go me, girl power, rah. But then there’s the part where I got fired.”

William sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, kitten.”

Buffy shrugged. “Kind of hated the job, anyway, so no big. Although it had its perks. Most notably that it wasn’t the Doublemeat Palace, where I will be reporting for work bright and early Monday morning.”

They sat together in silence for a time. Then William had a thought. He jumped up, patting Buffy on the shoulder as he did so. "You stay put, sweetheart. I'll be back in a mo'." He hurried into the house and quickly threw a few essentials into a duffel bag, which he stowed in the trunk of the DeSoto before returning to Buffy's side.

"C'mon, let's go for a ride," he said with a smile.

"Where are we going?" she asked suspiciously once they were seated in the car.

"It's a surprise," he answered. "Trust me?"

"Yes, I do," Buffy said softly. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it tightly. She kept hold of it for the entire drive.

***

William pulled into the empty parking lot atop a cliff overlooking the ocean. "Here we are," he announced.

"Oh, wow," Buffy breathed. "I haven't been to the beach in... it’s been so long, I can’t even remember." She turned to him with a grin. "Too bad I don't have a suit, I'd love to go swimming."

William smirked at her. "This is a pretty secluded beach, pet," he said. "Don't rightly know that you need to wear anything." He pulled her across the front seat for a kiss, which was interrupted by the shrill ring of Buffy's cell. She dug through her bag for her phone.

"Hello?" she said. "Dawn, sweetie, how are you?"

William slid out of the car and retrieved the duffel from the trunk, wanting to give Buffy some privacy for her conversation. He perched on the hood of the DeSoto, looking out at the gentle waves below. Then he heard Buffy's voice rise.

"Dawnie, don't say that! You know I do." She started to cry. "Of course I do! Please don't... Dawnie?"

William yanked open the passenger side door just as Buffy's cell phone went sailing through the window. It landed in the scruffy shrubs lining the cliff top. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Buffy looked up at him with big, teary eyes. "I... well, I told my stupid sister that I was at the beach with my boyfriend, so obviously that means I don't love her and I'm glad she's gone and I don't miss her at all."

William thought that, had it been anyone else making his girl cry, he would have been in a rage. When he thought of Dawn, though, all he felt was the same protective instinct he felt for Buffy; that unknown girl halfway across the country was just as alone and just as hurt as Buffy was. He wrapped Buffy in his arms and rocked her back and forth.

"You know she doesn't mean it," he whispered against her hair. "Shh, little girl, it's okay."

He was unprepared for the hard fist that landed in his ribs. "Don't. Call. Me. That." Buffy growled at him. "I hate that!"

William grabbed her wrists when she aimed another fist in his direction, holding her off of him as he stared at her unfocused eyes. "Buffy!" he said loudly. She looked up at him with dawning horror as if she were just realizing who she was attacking.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry, William," she whispered. "I just... he always called me... I hate it, okay?"

William nodded slowly, his brain reeling. "D'you... d'you want to talk about it, Buffy? What he did to you?" He wasn't sure what he wanted her answer to be.

Buffy peeled away from him and headed for the shrubs to retrieve her phone. She stood there for a long time before finally turning back to him. She hopped up on the hood of the car, and William took a seat beside her.

“You want all the nasty little details?” she sneered. William opened his mouth, but she spoke before he could say anything – not that he knew what he would have said in any case. “Honestly, pedophilia aside, he was pretty fucking vanilla. I never even knew the girl could be on top till I met you.”

She laughed. The sound made William flinch. “Mostly he liked it when I cried. That got him really excited, and then it would be over fast.” She shrugged, like she was discussing the weather or some other mundane topic.

“He didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t say yes to,” she said after a moment. Her voice was very calm. “I’m not… I wasn’t his victim, William. I knew what I was getting into. Hell, I was the one who suggested it.”

William ran a hand across his face. He was surprised when it came away wet. He stood up, took a few deep breaths to calm himself, and turned back to Buffy. Her eyes were wide, and she was watching him with fear evident on her face.

"Oh, kitten," he said. "Just because you agreed to it, Buffy, doesn't make it okay, what he did."

"I know that," she said fiercely. "You think I don't know that? Of course it wasn't okay, he was my fucking father!"

Buffy bounded up and stalked across the parking lot in a fury, then turned and stood in front of William, breathing heavily. "He offered to adopt me, too, when he adopted Dawnie. The only reason I said no was because I didn't want to hurt my real dad's feelings. Stupid me, I had no idea that my real dad had to give up his rights to me and Dawnie in order for Ted to adopt us. But I didn’t say no because I didn't love him, or because I didn't want him to be my daddy instead of Hank. But you know what? It didn't really matter. We had different last names, but he was still my dad. Until he wasn't anymore."

She leaned into William then, wrapping her arms around his waist. She craned her neck to peer into his face, then brought one hand up to wipe away his fresh tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

William grasped her hand in his. “Christ, Buffy, don’t you apologize to me,” he said. “I just… I can’t stand to think of you being hurt. I’d like to find that shite and beat his face in for him.”

Buffy laughed shakily. “Okay.” She pulled away from him and smiled. “So, skinny dipping? Last one in is a rotten egg!” She ran to the staircase leading to the beach.

William let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Once again, Buffy’s mercurial mood swings had left his head spinning. Then he glanced down the wooden stairs and caught sight of her stripping off her tank top and bra, grinned, and chased after her.

***

William swam over to where Buffy was floating, arms and legs starfished out, her hair undulating on the waves. She turned her head as he neared her. “Keep your distance, Mr. Pratt,” she warned. “I think I’ve been dunked enough for one day.” She straightened up and began treading water, backing away from his questing fingers.

“Wanna play,” he said with a pout. He gave a quick burst of speed and managed to snag her hands, pulling her towards him. He swam backwards, leading them into shallower waters until he was able to kneel on the ocean floor and still keep his head above water. He positioned Buffy above him and drew one breast into his mouth. “Won’t dunk you anymore, promise,” he said, grinning before moving to the other breast.

Buffy twined her fingers in his hair and coiled her legs around his waist. “Mmm… William, do normal people have this much sex?”

William released her breast with a wet plop and glanced up at her. “What makes you think we’re not normal, pet?” he asked.

“Um, have you looked in the mirror lately, bleach boy? And I’m… well, I don’t know, I just never thought that I’d like sex this much. I mean, I want to do it all the time. Is that… are you sure this is normal?”

William laughed. “Buffy, there’s not one thing wrong with you. Or me, for that matter. It’s just… you get me all hot an’ bothered, and I do the same for you, yeah?”

Buffy nodded, then gave a little gasp as he slid smoothly into her. “Yes,” she cried.

William smiled against her throat, licked her pulse point. “It’s okay, baby,” he said. “This is us. Who cares ‘bout normal?”

“Okay, okay,” Buffy panted, moving with him frantically. Her legs clenched him tightly and her hips moved in a compelling circle. “Oh god, Will, don’t… don’t stop.”

“Won’t. Never.” William found her lips and drew her into a passionate kiss. When they parted, he gave her a wicked grin. “Hold your breath, pet. Wanna see if I can make you come before we need to come up for air.”

He could.

***

They snuggled together in the blankets William had packed, watching the sunset.

“Thank you,” Buffy said, turning her head to place a soft kiss on his bare chest.

“For what, kitten?”

“For bringing me here. For listening to me. For putting up with Crazy!Buffy.”

William turned on his side to face her. Her skin was glowing in the golden rays of the setting sun. “You say that like it’s a hardship,” he said, running his fingers through the damp curls spilling around her face.

Buffy shrugged. “I know I’m all kinds of messed up. Sometimes I can’t stand myself, but you…”

William pulled her to him. “Aw, sweetness, wish you could see yourself the way I do. You’re… god, you’re bloody amazing. You take my breath away. You make me crazy, yeah, but in a completely good way. Bein’ with you… it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Nothin’ hard about it.” He smirked and pulled her hand down his body. “Well, maybe one hard thing…”

“Pig,” Buffy said. She didn’t relinquish her grasp, though.

***

It was on the drive back to Sunnydale that William brought up the idea that had been fulminating in his mind all evening. “Love, do you really want to work at the Doublemeat?”

Buffy glanced at him briefly. “No, of course not, but hello, high school dropout here. Not a ton of options, you know?”

William nodded. “Right. I wanna give you an option. What if, instead of going to work Monday morning, you, uh, movedinwithme?” he got out in a rush.

“What?”

“Move in with me, Buffy. You’re at my house all the time, anyway, only difference’d be you wouldn’t have to go to that flat of yours for a change of clothes.” He looked over at her and was presented with the back of her head. She was staring fixedly out the window.

“I… I can’t do that, Will,” she said finally.

“Why not?”

“Because! Because I can’t be an unemployed high school dropout mooching off her boyfriend! That’s, like, so far beyond tacky.”

“I want to… I want you to have opportunities. If you weren’t working, you could concentrate on finishing your diploma, yeah?” She nodded silently and he continued. “An’ then you could get to work on college. No more dead end jobs. ‘S what you want, right?”

“Well, yeah, but I… We’ve been together for, like, a month, and you want me to move in with you? I mean, are you hearing yourself? This is crazy!” Buffy was looking at him now, he noted with small satisfaction. “And I can’t move in with you just because it would be convenient for me!”

“Thought it was a month and a half, pet,” he said.

Buffy let out a yell of pure frustration. “William, could you please be serious?”

“I am bein’ serious. I, William Pratt, want you, Buffy Summers, to move your clothes and sundries into my house, where you spend ninety-nine percent of your time already. I want you to not be trottin’ your sexy little self over to the nasty part of town every time you need fresh skivvies. I want you to get an education instead of wasting your time serving greasy and dubious food to an already dangerously-overweight American public. How much more serious can I be, love?”

Buffy folded her arms across her chest and sat in a sulky silence until they reached the city limits. “Take me home,” she said.

“What?” William turned to her in surprise and narrowly missed clipping the “Welcome to Sunnydale” sign.

Buffy sighed. “You heard me, I want to go home.”

“But…”

“William. I’m serious. Take me to my apartment, or I will jump out of this car and walk there.”

“Fine. Home it is.”

Not another word was spoken between the two until William pulled up in front of Buffy’s flat. He reached for her arm as she moved to open her door.

“Buffy… please, pet, I wasn’t tryin’ to make you angry.”

“Oh, congrats, imagine what a bang-up job you’ll do when you put some effort into it.”

“Tell me you’ll at least think about it,” William pleaded. He slid across the seat and pulled her stiff form into his arms. “Please.”

Buffy relented then, relaxing into his embrace and reaching a hand up to caress his cheek. “I’ll think about it,” she said quietly.

“Not too mad at me then, are you?”

Buffy laughed softly. “How could I be?” She stretched up and kissed him. “William… thank you again. I, I really don’t deserve you, you know that?”

William tucked her hair behind her ear and traced the curve of her cheek. “You deserve so much more than I could ever hope to give you, Buffy,” he said. “Maybe someday you’ll start believing that about yourself.”

She smiled at him, a sad little smile that nearly broke his heart. “I’ll talk to you later, William. Good night.” With one last kiss, she was gone, and William drove home to his empty house.

***

The phone’s persistent ringing pulled William from sleep several hours later. He turned a groggy eye on the clock next to his bed.

“What?” he growled into the phone. “It’s three in the sodding morning, this better be a bloody emergency!”

There was a beat of silence. “William?” Buffy’s voice was very small and quiet.

He was wide awake in an instant. “Buffy? Love, what’s wrong?” Even as he spoke, he was climbing out of bed and searching for his clothes.

“I… I couldn’t sleep,” Buffy said. “I’ve been thinking about you, about what you asked me…”

He couldn’t make words come.

“Will, I’m so tired of saying ‘no’ to the things I want. And I want you, William. I told you I couldn’t move in with you because… because I wanted it so much, it just seemed like one more thing that I shouldn’t have. Because there’s something wrong with the world if I’m not miserable, right?” Her voice cracked on a sob.

“Oh, kitten,” William said. He longed to hold her, to soothe her tears and her fears. “You can have whatever you want, you just tell me what it is.”

“You,” Buffy said. “Just you. Please.”

“You’ve got me, Buffy. I love you, pet, love you so much it scares me.” There were silent tears tracking down his face now. “Can I… can I come get you, baby? Right now?”

“Uh-huh.”

He made it to her flat in record time. Less than an hour later, they were curled up in bed, Buffy back in his arms where she belonged, and her tatty stuffed pig watching them from the bedside table.

"Ease up a bit, pet."

"Like that?"

"Yeah, jus' like that. Good."

"Is this okay?"

"You're doin' great. Relax a little, you're meant to be enjoyin' this."

"Okay."

"All right, slow down now. Think about what you're doin' with your feet."

"Uh-huh."

"I said slow down, not... bloody hell, woman, watch what you're doin'!" William yanked the steering wheel to the right and jammed his foot down on the brake, effectively dislodging Buffy's foot from the gas in the process. The car slammed to a stop and William threw it into park.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said meekly.

William sighed and scrubbed a hand across his hair. "How is it you can flip around our yard like a bleedin' deranged monkey without breakin' your neck, but you can't grasp the concept of brake pedal and gas pedal?"

"I told you, me and cars are completely unmixy." Buffy opened the door and began edging out of the car.

"An' where do you think you're going?" William said, grabbing her arm.

"I am getting out of the driver seat, and letting you drive." Buffy pulled her arm out of his grasp and slammed the door behind her. She slid into the passenger side, bumping William with her hip as she climbed in. "Move over, bossy English person. The driving lesson is over."

William laughed and pressed a kiss to Buffy's neck. "All right, if you really want to quit..."

She shot him a glare. "You really want me to wreck up your precious car? ‘Cause that's where this is going to lead if you keep pushing it. Besides, I've gotten along just fine so far without learning how to drive."

"If only you had this attitude in the kitchen," William said innocently.

"I heard that, you... you mean guy!" Buffy's sharp elbow dug into his side. "And you said you liked my cooking."

"I seriously doubt that exact combination of words ever came out of my mouth."

Buffy crossed her arms and stuck her lip out. "Fine. See if I make you breakfast ever again."

William laughed again. "Shakin' in my boots over here, kitten."

"Don't be mean to me, William, or I'll... I'll..."

"Cook for me?" he suggested.

"That, or drive you somewhere." Buffy winked at him.

"Well, I s'pose no one can be perfect, even you. Must say, you've completely shattered my illusions about you."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Look, I tried, you tried, but I know you're all wound up worrying what I'm going to do to your baby. So can we just go home?"

William grinned. It had been over a month since he'd moved her to his house in the dead of night, and he'd yet to tire of hearing her refer to it as her home, their home. "Yeah, pet, let's go home."

***

William came home one evening in mid-October to find a scowling Buffy sitting on the living room floor.

"What's the matter?" he asked as he seated himself behind her, gently massaging her tense shoulders.

"I can't do this," she said, gesturing to the books spread out on the floor in front of her – the textbooks from the GED preparation course she was taking.

"Yes, you can," he assured her. "I've seen how hard you're working at this, there's no way you're going to be anything but brilliant."

“Hmmph," Buffy grumped. "I beg to differ. This is stupid. I'm stupid."

William quickly spun her around to face him, pulling her legs over his and leaning his forehead against hers. "Listen, lady, I don't let anyone talk about my girl that way, so you best apologize right now."

Buffy giggled and kissed him. "Hi," she said. "Sorry I'm cranky. Think I've been doing too much algebra and, ugh, trig. At least they don't expect me to do calculus or anything crazy like that."

William smiled. "What d'you say we go out tonight? You look like you could use a break."

Buffy jumped up almost before he was done speaking. "Okay, where do you want to go? Let me change, I'll be ready to go in ten minutes."

William arched an eyebrow at her.

"All right, half an hour," she amended with a grin. "Longer if you wanna get in the shower with me."

"I'm in no rush, sweetness," William said, climbing eagerly to his feet.

***

Two hours later, they were taking a seat at the restaurant. William eyed Buffy. "You look a bit more relaxed," he said.

Buffy smirked at him. The expression was alarmingly similar to his own smirk. "That's what three orgasms in a row will do for a girl," she said matter-of-factly just as their waiter approached the table. The young man dropped his jaw and stammered through taking their drink order.

William waited until the waiter stumbled off before letting out a bellow of laughter. "Well, that was impressive for someone who couldn't even say the word 'sex' a couple months ago."

Buffy blushed and kicked him under the table. "I blame my boyfriend."

"And why is that? I have it on good authority that he's a proper Englishman, all stiff-upper-lippy and what have you."

She snorted indelicately. "He's a proper pig, is what he is. Goes around corrupting innocent young girls."

"Only the ones that like it, sweetheart," he responded with a leer. They chatted idly about their respective days as they perused the menu. The waiter returned with their drinks, still unable to look either of them in the eye.

"Need a minute, pet?" William asked when Buffy didn't respond to the waiter's mumbled 'what can I get you?' He glanced up from his menu to see that all the color had drained from her face. She set her menu down with shaking hands and stood unsteadily.

William stood, too, and moved to her side. He looked in the direction she was staring. A heavy, dark-haired man approached their table.

"Buffy," the man said in an unctuous tone. "I've been so worried about you." He shot a careless glance at William before focusing his attention on Buffy again. She backed away from him.

William placed himself between the man - Ted, he thought sickly - and Buffy. Her hand closed on his arm in a crushing grip. When she spoke, her voice was firm and steady.

"Stay the hell away from me!"

A greasy smile stretched Ted's full face, and he lifted his hands in front of him in a pacifying gesture. William felt physically ill at the thought of those hands on Buffy.

"Now, Buffy, is that any way to speak to your father?"

Buffy laughed. There was no humor in the sound. "You don't get to call yourself that. Ever." She squeezed a little harder on William's arm. "Let's go, please?" she whispered in his ear.

Ted turned his heavy-lidded gaze on William. "And who might you be?" he said. "Let me guess, my little girl told you some ‘poor me’ sob story about her evil stepfather and you just ate it up. Can't blame you, I suppose, for wanting to play the hero to a pretty little thing like my Buffy. But the girl's a liar. Always has been, no matter how I tried to correct that flaw."

"Shut up!" Buffy yelled. She stepped around William and flailed a wild punch in Ted's direction.

“Now, Buffy, what would your mother think if she could see the way you’re behaving?”

“Fuck you, you piece of shit. You don’t get to talk about my mother!” Tears were streaming down Buffy’s face.

Ted addressed his next words to William, his tone falsely sincere and conciliatory. "It's just so sad. Ever since my poor wife died, Buffy's been, well, a little unstable. You must have noticed."

William didn't bother to respond. He took Buffy's hand in his as she lunged for Ted again. "'S okay, Buffy, we're leaving now," he said. "Just gotta do one thing first." He patted her hand, giving her a reassuring smile. Then he turned to Ted and punched him as hard as he could. The blow hit him square on the jaw.

The bigger man was rocked back on his heels, but recovered quickly. William attempted to duck the right hook Ted threw at him, but the punch landed solidly on his left temple. The ornate pinky ring Ted wore sliced through his eyebrow, and blood poured down his face. William heard Buffy scream, and he swiped at the blood obscuring his vision.

The sight that met his eyes when he could see again brought a bitter smile to his face. Ted was lying on the restaurant floor, clutching his privates. Buffy stood above him, fists planted on her hips. She planted a vicious kick in Ted's ribs.

A flurry of motion across the restaurant caught William's eye – the manager was hurrying toward their table. William reached for his wallet and dropped several twenties on the table before wrapping an arm around Buffy's waist. She struggled away from him and landed another kick on Ted's torso. William got hold of her again and pulled her writhing body firmly against him.

"Sorry for the fuss, mate," he said to the flustered manager as he hurried Buffy past the man and out the door. He didn't release his hold on her until they were several blocks away from the restaurant. As soon as he let her go, she stumbled over to the street and vomited into the gutter. William approached her carefully and gently took her hand in his.

She turned into his arms, buried her face against his chest, wrapped her arms in an iron grip around his waist. "I hate him, I hate him," she sobbed.

William stroked her back and let her cry it out. "I know, sweetness," he murmured as she chanted the same words over and over. Finally she calmed herself, snuffled into his shirt, and glanced up at him.

"Oh, god, Will, your eye!" she said. "Are you all right?" Her hands stroked his bruised and bloodied face with soft concern.

"I'm fine, Buffy," William said calmly. He took her hands in his and squeezed. "C'mon, let's go home. We can order in pizza or Chinese, sound good?"

Buffy nodded silently. She looked dazed and spent. He slid an arm around her waist to steady her as they walked home.

***

Buffy was preternaturally calm following the confrontation in the restaurant. She tended to the cut on his eyebrow, murmuring her worry that it would leave a scar. Once the pizza – with extra everything – arrived, she picked at one slice, eating only the toppings and leaving most of the cheese and crust. She nodded when William suggested a movie, but he knew from her thousand-yard stare that her mind was nowhere near engaged in the film.

William took advantage of her silent indifference as an opportunity to cosset her. He brushed her hair till it shone and slipped through his hands like liquid silk, then plaited it in a loose braid. He coaxed her into her sushi pajamas and settled her on one end of the couch with a mug of hot cocoa. He pulled her feet onto his lap and rubbed her favorite lotion – vanilla and honey – into her slender feet as she sipped at the warm beverage. The tension slowly melted from her body as he worked his way up her calves.

“Feeling better, pet?” he asked softly.

Buffy focused her eyes on him as she took another sip of cocoa and nodded slowly. “You take such good care of me,” she said. She gave a small smile and relaxed further into the couch.

That little smile encouraged William. He slid his hands past her knees, then looked up at her, silently asking for permission. She moved towards him, swinging her leg across him so she was straddling his lap. He gripped her hips tightly.

“God, Buffy, you... I love you, you know that?” He slipped his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him for a searching kiss. Her hands came up to his throat as the kiss deepened; she melted into his body. When she ended the kiss and leaned back to look at him, her eyes were very soft. She traced the contours of his face with the tips of her fingers. William felt his heart give a great, bounding leap in his chest as she stared at him with wonder on her face.

“Dru was an idiot,” she said, apropos of nothing.

“Uh, what?”

“How could she even think of looking for something else when she had you?” She bent down and claimed his lips in another long kiss.

William ran a hand down Buffy’s cheek when they parted. “Buffy, d’you,” his heart was in his throat, “d’you love me, even just a little bit?”

Buffy shook her head. “No.”

He couldn’t breathe. “No?”

She smiled beatifically. “No. I love you a lot. With everything I have. I love you so much my heart hurts.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he said with reverence. He tugged her to him, explored her mouth, kissed her until they were both breathless. “Say it again,” he demanded.

“I love you,” she said obediently. “William, I love you.”

He grinned and stood up with Buffy still in his arms. “Never gonna get tired of hearing that,” he said as he entered the bedroom.

William placed Buffy gently on the bed and slowly began unbuttoning her pajama top. Her hands yanked on his t-shirt, pulling it roughly over his head. She fumbled at his belt buckle as he slid her pants off of her hips and down her legs. When they were both naked together, he knelt on the bed in front of her, hands and eyes and mouth roaming over her smooth golden skin.

“Love you, Buffy,” he whispered desperately.

“I love you,” she whispered back, a smile creasing her cheeks. “Want you to make love to me. Now, please.”

William stayed kneeling, buttocks resting on his heels, and pulled Buffy onto his lap, guiding her down on to his throbbing cock. He hissed as he slowly slipped into her heat, inch by excruciating inch. “So good, Buffy,” he said against her throat. “You feel… oh, Jesus, pet,” he moaned as she flexed her inner muscles around his shaft. He moved his hips in a slow corkscrewing motion; Buffy mewled in response.

He couldn't get close enough to her, couldn't get enough of her scent and the intoxicating feel of her satiny skin. He wanted to climb right inside of her, wanted to absorb her into himself so they would never be parted. They breathed into each other's mouths, hot erotic gasps escaping them at each miniscule movement the other made.

Buffy dragged her nails across his back, gripped his shoulders, bit his ear. William opened his eyes and looked up at her. Her face was all he could see, her big eyes filling his vision. “Tell me,” he pleaded. “Wanna hear it again.”

Buffy leaned into him and lifted her hips so that he slipped almost all the way out of her before slamming her body down against his. "I love you," she cried.

William came so hard he thought he would turn inside out.

After the nth time Buffy’s cell phone dinged to announce an incoming text message and the twelfth time she muttered “Oh, Dawnie,” William set down the Sunday paper and turned to Buffy where she sprawled across the bed.

“What’s goin’ on, pet?” he asked mildly. “You and li’l sis have been texting all morning. Wouldn’t it be easier to call and talk to her?”

Buffy looked at him. He didn’t need words to interpret that look. It plainly said “you really don’t get women, do you?” He shrugged and went back to the paper until the next ding and mutter.

“All right, kitten, why don’t you tell me about it? I know you’re dyin’ to natter on like some teenage girl.”

Buffy sat up, her thumbs busy with another text. “Uh, do you think that might be because I am a teenage girl?”

“Not for much longer,” William reminded her. “Now out with it. What’s the Li’l Bit done that’s got your knickers in a twist?”

“It’s not what she’s done,” Buffy said slowly. “It’s what she wants me to do.”

“An’ what would that be?”

“Basically, she wants me to purchase the contents of the nearest shopping mall and ship them to her for her Christmas. She’s decided she’s too old for Santa Claus and I’m the next best thing.” Buffy sighed. “But do you think she’ll take ‘I don’t have a job’ for an answer? And after last year, I think she feels a wee bit entitled.”

“Why’s that?”

“I sort of liberated Ted’s credit cards and took her on a fairly frightening shopping spree.”

William nodded thoughtfully and watched her obliquely as she answered yet another text from Dawn. “We could go shopping today,” he suggested.

Buffy shook her head without looking up at him. “I really can’t,” she said. “I’ve got a little left in my savings, but I’m going to need to pay for my exam next month. She’s just going to have to be disappointed in me. I’m getting used to it.”

William plucked the phone from Buffy's hand and pulled her onto his lap. "I told you before, I'm coverin' the cost of your test. And whatever you want to get Dawn for Christmas. So go get some clothes on and we'll hit the mall."

Buffy wiggled in his embrace, a slow flush spreading across her cheeks. "I wasn't... Will, I didn't mean to hint that I want you to buy presents for my sister."

He ran one hand down her back and caressed the curve of her buttocks, slightly distracted from her words by her naked, wriggly presence on his lap. "Buffy," he said finally, leaning in to place a kiss on her chest, "I know you weren't. But I want to do this for you, for her, okay?"

"William," Buffy said, drawing his name out as his free hand slipped up her leg and gently parted her thighs. "I... oh, right there... I, can I think... oooh."

William laughed, his lips latching on to the pert, pink nipple staring him in the face. "I don't know, love," he said around his mouthful of breast. "Can you think?"

Buffy gasped as two fingers slipped inside of her and twisted to hit that one sweet spot; his thumb danced lightly over her clit, eliciting a series of panting moans. William grinned, then winced as her nails embedded themselves in his upper arm. He tipped her off his lap and back onto the bed, moving into her smoothly. He stilled for a moment to savor the sensation of her surrounding him, the hot slickness of her channel pulsating against him. Then Buffy shifted her hips, brought one slim leg around his waist, and urged him back into motion.

***

"I was serious, Buffy," he said some time later. "Wanna go on a shopping spree with me?"

Buffy bit her lower lip. "I don't know," she said. "It seems a little 'Pretty Woman'-ish, you know?"

William shook his head. "Nah, you're more of a Holly Golightly," he teased.

"A what now?"

"I forgot, nothing before the twenty-first century makes your radar. 'Breakfast at Tiffany's,' Audrey Hepburn, George Peppard, it's a classic. Guess we're hitting the video store after the mall."

Buffy crossed her arms and jutted her chin forward, his only warning that she was about to get extra-stubborn. "I never agreed to a shopping spree, William. It's one thing for you to let me live here..."

"LET you... Bloody hell, woman!"

"Shut up, William, and let. Me. Talk."

William clamped his jaw shut so hard his teeth ached.

"Thank you," Buffy said with a sweet, and completely insincere, smile. "It's one thing for you to let me live here rent-free, and y’know, support me so I can do the school thing. It's something else entirely to ask you to supply my little sister with presents she doesn't need. And probably doesn't deserve. So, no shopping trip."

"But you're not asking, Buffy. I am. Shit, I'm not even asking, I'm at the point of beggin'. Let me... you and Dawn, you've both lost so much. I know material things aren't going to make up for that, but if there's somethin' li'l sis wants that I could give her, or anythin' you want... I just want to spoil you a bit, sweet girl. Would make me happy." William glanced up at Buffy from beneath his lowered lashes, knowing she was a sucker for the kicked-puppy look.

True to form, she took one look at him, sighed, and relaxed her rigid shoulders. "All right, but we’re not going overboard."

"Oh yes we are," William said. "If you're gonna let me do this, we're gonna do it right.”

She kissed him long and hard before bouncing off the bed to get dressed.

***

Several hours later, William was seriously regretting his offer. He was exhausted, but Buffy showed no signs of slowing down any time soon. Finally, in desperation, he handed over his credit card and told her to find him at the Barnes and Noble when she was done. Before she could protest, he fled the scene for the relative safety of the bookstore.

He was well into the latest John Irving novel, and his third cup of coffee, when an alarming pile of shopping bags plopped down in the chair next to him with a weary sigh. From somewhere beneath the bags, Buffy's voice emerged. "I am officially all shopped out," she said.

"Huh. Didn't think it was possible, pet," William said. He reached over and removed some of the packages from her lap so he could see her. "Will Miss Dawn approve, or will we have to make a return trip for more goodies?"

"I think we may be safe," Buffy replied. "Now, can we go home, Mr. Pratt? I need a bubble bath and a foot rub."

William smirked. "I believe that can be arranged." He stood, took hold of the majority of Buffy's purchases, and followed her to the car.

***

He waited until they were home to show Buffy what he had selected for Dawn. "Will she like it, d'you think?" he asked nervously.

Buffy turned the leather-covered journal over in her hands. "She'll love it, William. Oh, and you got her glitter pens, too?" She grinned at him. "It's like you're totally in touch with your inner twelve year old girl."

“Oi! You little brat!” William growled and backed Buffy up against the nearest wall. He pressed against her and pinned her arms to the wall on either side of her head. He nipped at her throat and ground his burgeoning erection against her. "Do I feel at all girly to you, pet?" he demanded.

Buffy shook her head silently. William sucked on her pulse point and pressed against her a little harder. She squeaked and fixed wide, unblinking eyes on him.

He backed off a little bit. He loosened his grip on her wrists and leaned toward her ear. "This okay?” he asked gently. “Not scarin' you, am I?" He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear just to watch her squirm.

Buffy shook her head again, then grabbed one of his hands and shoved it unceremoniously down her pants. He groaned when his fingers met her wet heat. "Pretty much the opposite," she said on a sigh.

William grinned. "Good," he said as he popped the catch of her jeans and shimmied them down her legs. "'Cause I wanna do all sorts of nasty things to you right now."

"Okay," Buffy agreed breathlessly.

***

"What would you say to gettin' out of town for a bit?" William asked later that night.

Buffy twisted around in his arms. They had just finished 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' and were still snuggled together on the couch. "I would say, adios, Sunnydale! Oh, do we have to come back?"

William kissed the tip of her nose. "Hmm, I do have that pesky job..."

"Oh, all right," Buffy sighed. "Where do you want to go? And when?"

"Winter break’s coming. My last class is the twenty-third, we could leave right after and spend Christmas on the coast. Thought we could rent a house on the beach for a while, maybe till after the New Year. What d’you think?”

"That sounds nice,” she said in a quiet little voice.

William sat them upright on the couch, rearranged limbs till they were facing each other. "What’s up, pet? Thought you’d like a change of scenery.”

"I… I would, it sounds like fun. It’s just, I don’t know, mom always made Christmas so special and now… I’m not even going to be with Dawnie.," she said quietly. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I miss… I miss my family.” In that moment she looked very young and lost.

“Oh, Buffy,” he said. “I know.”

“Do you still miss her, your mom?” Buffy crept closer to him, laid her hand on his leg.

“I do,” William said, putting his arms around her. “It’s been almost six years now, and I still miss her every day.”

Buffy breathed heavily and rested her head on his chest. They stayed like that for a long time.

***

Buffy’s cell phone rang insistently before the sun was even up on Christmas Day. William reluctantly released his hold on Buffy’s waist as she slid off the bed to answer the call. He missed her warmth immediately.

“Hello?” she said, her voice thick with sleep. Even from across the room, William could hear Dawn’s squeaky chipmunk voice loud and clear. He burrowed deeper into the covers and pulled a pillow over his head as the sisters talked.

He must have dozed off, because he came awake with a start when Buffy laid cold hands on his chest. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she whispered in his ear.

William groaned and pulled her hands off his bare skin. She curled against him, and the rest of her body was just as chilled as her hands. “Why so cold, sweetness?” he murmured. He rubbed her back and wrapped his legs around hers in an effort to impart some warmth.

“It’s cold outside of bed,” Buffy said. “You should get up and build a fire.”

He cracked an eye open. The room was filled with early morning sunlight now, and the rays fell on Buffy’s golden head, making her glow. “Mornin’, gorgeous,” he said with a smile. “Happy Christmas.” He captured her lips for a long, slow kiss.

“Merry Christmas to you,” Buffy said when they parted. “Dawn called already, she loved her gifts. She wanted me to thank you for everything.”

“So the Bit’s havin’ a good Christmas then? I’m glad.” William tucked the blanket a little closer around their bodies. He yawned widely. “How ‘bout you? Want your present?”

Buffy sat up straight and bounced a little. “Yes, please,” she said with a grin.

William kissed her lightly before climbing out of bed to retrieve her gift from his suitcase. He shivered in the cool air. “Hmm, think you’re right, love, we could use a fire in here.” He turned back to Buffy in time to catch her little pout. “Take me five minutes. Your present’s not gonna go anywhere.”

Once he had a fire blazing in the small fireplace, he returned to Buffy’s side, her small gaily wrapped gift in hand. He slid under the blankets and planted his cold feet on Buffy’s calves. He smirked at her cry of protest. “Payback,” he said.

William pushed the gift into Buffy’s hands. “Open it up,” he urged. He tried to quell his nerves.

Buffy smiled and quickly ripped the paper off. She glanced up at him when she saw the black velvet jewelry box. Then she opened the box and ran her shaking fingers over the locket held within. “Oh,” she breathed. “William, it’s beautiful!”

William reached for the necklace, removing it from the box and moving to fasten it around Buffy’s neck. He traced one finger over the delicately engraved flowers that decorated the front of the locket, accented by a small princess-cut emerald. “It was my mother’s,” he said softly.

Buffy’s gaze locked on his. Tears filled her big eyes. “Will,” she whispered.

“D’you like it?” William asked.

She nodded silently and leaned forward to kiss him. “I do,” she said. “I love it.”

William smiled. “Good.” He tugged her closer to him. She twined her arms around her neck and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He moaned into her mouth as her breasts pressed against his chest. “Love you, Buffy,” he murmured.

Buffy drew back from his embrace, her hands tangled in his hair. “I love you, William. I love you so much.” She smiled sweetly and he thought he’d never seen a more beautiful sight than this girl with her love for him shining from her eyes.

***

William was sitting on the all-season porch, watching the clouds gather above the stormy seas and sipping a cup of coffee, when Buffy joined him. He smiled as she settled herself on his lap.

“Well, good morning, kitten,” he said, nuzzling into her neck. “Thought you were gonna sleep all day.”

Buffy bit his ear gently. “Someone wore me out,” she told him. “But I’m awake now. Want your present?”

“Ah, Buffy, you din’t have to get me anything,” William protested, even as she jumped up and hurried back to the bedroom. She returned a minute later with a flat square package. She plopped back down on his lap and handed him the gift. He opened it slowly to reveal a recording of T.S. Eliot reading several of his poems.

“Buffy,” he said, kissing her softly, “this is fantastic. I did my senior thesis on Eliot.”

“I know,” she said with a blush. At his questioning glance, she shrugged. “It was on your bookshelf. Sometimes I actually want to read something that’s not going to be on that stupid exam.”

“You’re not tellin’ me you read my thesis?” he asked.

“Maybe?”

William laughed. “You are… you’re somethin’ else, Buffy. And this is just perfect, love. Thank you.”

Buffy dipped her head down, her hair falling around their faces. “William, I can’t ever thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. For me and for Dawn.”

William felt dizzy; her sweet breath and the scent of her hair, her big eyes – he was overwhelmed. “Buffy,” he said hoarsely. “You’ve got nothin’ to thank me for. I love you, there’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you.”

“Oh, William,” she whispered, her lips brushing his gently, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. And he was lost once more.

The call William had been hoping for came a week after their return from the coast. He glanced at Buffy where she sat cross-legged at the living room table, poring over her books, and stood to take the call in the bedroom.

He was silent for a moment when he returned to the living room, taking a seat on the couch behind Buffy. She leaned against his legs, and he ran a hand through her soft curls.

“Wanna take a study break?” he asked. “Could go for a walk, maybe hit the Espresso Pump.”

Buffy looked up at him and nodded. “Good idea,” she smiled. She stood and retrieved her heavy wool sweater from the closet, then slipped a black knit cap down over her ears. William grinned at her before grabbing a scarf and wrapping it securely around her neck.

“You’re bloody adorable, you know that?” he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead. He took her hand in his as they wandered down the street. They walked to the Espresso Pump, talking idly, while William tried to order his churning thoughts.

It wasn’t until they were sitting at a table with their drinks that Buffy called him on his distraction. “What is it?” she said. “I can see the gears turning in your head. You’ll start your hair on fire if you think any harder.”

William took a slow sip of his coffee before responding. “I applied for a position at Reed College in Portland. That’s who called before. I’m one of their final candidates for the job. Should know more in the next month or so. It's a great school, it'd be a good opportunity."

“Oh,” Buffy said tonelessly, staring into her mocha. “Well. Good luck, Will.”

William felt the tension rolling off of her. “I… if I were to get the job, Buffy, I’d want you to come with me. You know that, yeah?”

Her eyes flashed up to his. “I do now,” she said with a small smile, but her face, her body language, remained wary and distant.

“Buffy, love, what is it? I din’t think you’d mind leavin’ Sunnydale. What is there to keep you here?” He reached for her hand; she pulled it away, curled both hands into tight little fists in her lap.

“What happens when you get tired of me?” she asked quietly, her gaze flitting from the table between them to the wall behind him to the street; anywhere but on him. William wasn’t sure he’d heard her right, but then she looked at him with such an expression of dread that his breath caught in his throat.

“That’s not gonna happen,” he said quickly.

“How do you know that? You were with Dru for five years, Will, and you walked away from her pretty damn easily.”

William was suddenly sorry he had initiated this conversation in public. Buffy was fighting tears, and he felt a need to hit something. “You’re. Not. Dru,” he said finally, angrily. “There’s no bloody comparison at all, so don’t even start.”

“I know I’m not,” Buffy whispered.

William leaned forward. “Don’t you see how we fit together, Buffy?” he said fiercely. “I spent my time with Dru trying to be someone I wasn’t. You… I don’t have to pretend with you. I don’t have to lie about who I am to keep your attention. I can be myself, can be the man I want to be. And the only reason it was at all easy for me to walk away from Dru was because of you. You’re exactly who I’ve been waitin’ for my whole life. You’re the one, Buffy.”

Buffy drew in a sharp breath. Her hands shook.

“I can’t make you any guarantees,” he continued. “Life doesn’t work like that, you know that, better’n most, I suspect. All I can tell you is that I love you and I want you and I need you in my life. And I thought you felt the same way.”

Buffy stood abruptly and came around the table to plant herself on his lap. “William, I do. I love you so much that… I love you, Will, and that’s what scares me.”

“What’s so scary, Buffy?” William whispered into her ear. He wrapped his arms securely around her trembling frame.

“Everyone I love leaves me, one way or another. And I don’t want to think about the day you leave me, too.” She had stopped fighting tears; they were all pouring out of her in a silent flood.

“Not gonna happen, kitten.” William pressed his lips to her throat, ran his mouth up her neck to her jaw. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he promised.

Buffy nodded. “Take me home, Will,” she said hoarsely. “Take me home and make love to me. Please. I need… I need to feel you.”

William kissed her very gently and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then he took her hand in his and led her home.

***

“William?”

“Buffy?”

She shifted in his arms and rested her chin on his chest. William craned his neck to meet her eyes. “You’d really want me to move to Portland with you?”

William sighed and pulled her up his body till they were nose to nose. He twined his fingers in her hair. “Don’t want to be anywhere you’re not, sweets,” he said quietly. “I just want to be with you. Whether that’s here, Portland, or Timbuktu, it doesn’t matter to me. If you want to stay in Sunnydale, that’s what we’ll do.”

Buffy smiled and stroked her little hand down the side of his face. “You were right,” she said. “There’s nothing keeping me here, other than you.”

William wrapped his arms around her and buried his face against her throat. He felt her fingers scratching through his hair and down his neck. Her hands gripped his shoulders and he pulled back to see her shining eyes. “I adore you, Buffy,” he whispered.

“I know exactly how you feel,” she whispered back.

***

William spent Buffy's birthday spoiling her. The day started with breakfast in bed and continued with William dropping her at the spa for a day of pampering. He picked her up hours later and was pleased to see her looking relaxed and refreshed.

He wrapped the day up with dinner at the same French restaurant they had gone to on their first date. Buffy feigned surprise when he ordered wine for both of them.

"What happened to not supplying me with liquor?" she teased. "I'm going to start thinking you're a bad influence, with the contributing to the delinquency of a minor and all that."

William smiled. "Think that only applies if you're under eighteen, kitten," he said. "'Sides, it's a special occasion."

"Oh, right," Buffy said. "That doesn't mean you're not a bad influence, though." She took a sip of her wine. "Mmm, this is good."

Towards the end of the meal, he glanced at Buffy and caught the contemplative expression in her eyes. "What're you thinking about, love?"

"Hmm?" she said absently. "I don't know... about the first time we came here, I guess. How different my whole life is since then."

"Different in a good way, right?" he asked.

Buffy scoffed. "Nah, this whole deal sucks. Wish I were still living in that crappy apartment and working at the Doublemeat. You really screwed up all my grand plans, Will. Way to go."

William grinned. "Sorry 'bout that. How can I make it up to you?"

Buffy got that glint in her eye that William loved, but they were interrupted by the waitress coming to clear their dishes and ask if they wanted dessert. William didn't have to look at Buffy to know she straightened up attentively at the mention of chocolate.

It was over dessert that William worked up the courage to say the one thing he'd been trying to get out all night. "Buffy," he said very seriously, taking her hand in his, "I want you to know that I love having you in my life. There's nothin' better than waking up to your beautiful face every morning and goin' to sleep with you in my arms every night. If you'd let me, I'd spend the rest of my life makin' you smile, because nothing makes me happier than seeing you happy.”

He fumbled in his jacket pocket for the ring box, popping it open and setting it on the table between them. The diamond and sapphire setting sparkled in the low lights. “Buffy, will you... will you marry me?"

William glanced from the ring to Buffy's face. Her eyes were very wide, and her mouth hung open.

"Will," she whispered. The color had drained from her face, and her eyes flew up to meet his. Her hand convulsed in his grip before she pulled away from him.

William's heart sank. Even before she stood up, teetering a little on her high heels, he knew that her answer wasn't going to be the resounding 'yes' he was hoping for.

"I can't... oh, god, I can't breathe, Will," Buffy gasped. "I... I'm gonna..." Whatever she was going to say was lost as she rushed through the dining room and out the door.

William snatched up the ring and hurriedly settled their bill. He collected Buffy's purse and coat, which she'd left behind in her mad dash from the restuarant, and walked on leaden feet to the exit.

Buffy leaned against the wall to the left of the door. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, and her breath came in spurts. She looked at him with wild eyes when he walked silently up to her.

"I'm so sorry, William," she said between panting inhalations.

William leaned against the wall next to her and waited patiently. He draped her coat over her shoulders and rubbed her back gently; eventually her breathing slowed down and she turned to him with a sorrowful look on her face. He let his arms fall to his sides, fists clenched tightly.

"Will," Buffy said, one hand coming up to caress his cheek. "I really am sorry, that's not... I know that's not what you wanted me to say."

William closed his eyes and let his head fall back. He jumped when he felt her press a kiss to his throat.

"I want to say yes," she whispered. "I really do. But... can you understand that this is all a little fast for me?"

He looked down at her. Her earnest face was turned up to him, her tumultuous emotions written so clearly across it. He nodded.

"Say something," Buffy cried. A few hot tears flew out of her eyes. "Please, Will, don't, don't be mad at me. I couldn't stand it."

That broke through the numbness, the buzzing in his ears. He tugged her into his arms. "Shh, kitten," he murmured. "Couldn't ever be mad at you. It's... I'm just... I want you to be mine, Buffy."

She smiled at him through her tears. "Silly man," she said. "I am yours. Heart, body, and soul, I'm yours, William."

He nodded again and pulled her closer.

"Take me home, and I'll show you," she said. "I'm all yours."

***

"Are you awake?" Buffy said very quietly.

"No," William muttered. He squinched his eyes shut tighter when he felt her little fingers dance across his ribs, unerringly finding the most ticklish spots. He squirmed under her touch.

"Yes, you are, you liar," Buffy laughed. "Wanna talk."

William reluctantly opened his eyes. The room was dark, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the windows. "What d'you wanna talk about, pet?"

"I want to tell you I'm sorry about what happened at the restaurant."

William gripped her shoulders. "You don't need to apologize for that, Buffy."

"No, I really, really do. I know I hurt you, William, and that's not something I ever wanted to do." She ran a hand down his chest and rested it at his waist. Her head fell onto his shoulder as she draped her leg across his pelvis. "You're so good to me, even when I don't deserve it."

William sat up at that and dragged her onto his lap. "Buffy, there’s never a moment you don’t deserve all that’s good. Wish I could get you to believe that." He crashed his lips against hers, kissed her till she was gasping.

***

Buffy was pale and jittery when William collected her following her GED exam. He folded her into his arms. “What happened, pet?” he murmured against her hair.

“It was awful,” she said. “I failed, I know I did.”

William stifled a grin. “Sweetness,” he said, “I’m sure you did a fine job. You studied so hard, and you’re such a smart girl.”

She shook her head against his chest. “No, you don’t understand, it was really, truly terrible. I just kept guessing 'cause I couldn't figure out the answers.”

“Let’s not borrow trouble. You’ll get the results soon and then you’ll know. Till then…” he searched for a distraction.

“Will you take me out for ice cream?” Buffy asked suddenly, sniffling back tears.

William laughed. “This was all a ploy for sweets, wasn’t it?”

"Maybe a little bit?" Buffy said with a wavering smile. "It was a really scary test, though."

William smiled back at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, you can have all the ice cream you want."

***

William came home a few weeks later to find Buffy sitting on the couch in the dark. She held an envelope in her hands. She looked up, startled, when he came through the door and snapped on the lights.

"Buffy?" William said, a little worried. "Is everything okay?"

"Uh, yeah," she said. "My test results came today." She held the envelope out to him.

"What's the verdict?" he asked, sitting down next to her.

"I didn't open it yet," Buffy said quietly. She pressed the piece of mail into his hands. "Will you do it, please? I just... I can't."

"Sure." William pulled her into his arms for a quick hug. She stood and began pacing across the room as he ripped the end of the envelope off and pulled out the paper held within. He scanned the sheet quickly and turned to Buffy, a huge smile creasing his cheeks.

"Buffy, you... god, girl, you didn't just pass, you practically aced the test." He laughed as Buffy let out a whoop of joy and bounded into his arms. "Told ya you’re smart, din't I?"

Buffy grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him soundly. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" William asked. "You're the one who earned this." He shook the paper at her, and she took it with a trembling hand.

"For believing in me," Buffy said. "For... William, for the million little things you have done for me since the day I met you. If it weren't for you, I don’t even know where I’d be right now." She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

William hugged her tightly. "Buffy, I'd do it all again. Told you before, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Now, how d'you wanna celebrate?"

Buffy looked up at him with bright eyes. "We're celebrating?"

"It's not every day my girl graduates, is it?" he said, squeezing her a little. "So, dinner, dancing, whatever you want."

***

They spent the night at the Bronze. Buffy danced to every song, and William just tried to keep up. It wasn't hard, considering how damn sexy she looked in her red leather pants and skimpy black halter top. He couldn't keep his hands off her as she shimmied against him on the dance floor. When she pulled him to a dark corner beneath the stairs and wrapped herself around him, he just about lost control and took her right there. With great effort, he managed to keep it to an intense make-out session instead of something that would get them both arrested for indecent exposure.

"We've gotta go," he gasped finally, at the end of his tether when her hot little hands slipped into the waistband of his jeans.

"But we just got here," Buffy pouted. Her hands kept moving south, and her mouth latched onto his earlobe.

"Sweetheart, we've been here for hours, and, gah, if you keep doin' what you're doin', you're gonna be wearing a lot less clothes in about ten seconds."

Buffy almost relented at that; her hands crept marginally closer to safe territory and she stopped doing that thing with her tongue that was driving him bloody mad. "What if I wanna be wearing less clothes?" she said with an innocent expression.

William yanked her hard against his body. "I can take care of that... but let's get outta here first." He barely waited for her nod before tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her out of the club.


***

He woke sometime in the night. It was dark and very quiet. William heard only the rush of the wind around the house. Buffy wasn’t next to him.

William heard the murmur of her voice, but couldn’t distinguish individual words. He rose slowly and stretched a moment before padding naked out of the bedroom. A dim rectangle of light illuminated the hallway outside the kitchen.

Buffy’s words suddenly became clear. “Oh, Dawnie!” Distress laced her tone; the thickness in her voice betrayed impending tears. She breathed heavily. “Baby, don’t cry. Don’t. No, I’m not mad.”

William caught his breath. It seemed like an eternity before she spoke again. “I know. I miss her, too.” Another infinite pause. “I love you.” William heard her cell phone click shut.

He held his breath a moment more. He wavered between barging in on a private moment and darting back to bed to avoid detection. His decision was made for him when he heard Buffy give a tiny sniffle, followed by a long, ragged breath. He took three long strides from the bedroom to the kitchen and stepped through the doorway.

Buffy sat on the black and white checkerboard linoleum, back against the refrigerator and her legs sprawled out bonelessly. She was clad only in his Ramone’s t-shirt. She looked up at him with huge, tear-soaked eyes. “William,” she whispered. Her eyes stayed locked on his as he crouched next to her.

William’s hand trembled as he reached to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Never wanna see you so sad, pet,” he murmured. His thumb rasped across her cheekbone, his long index finger traced the line of her nose. His eyes fixed on her lips for a long moment, then darted back to meet her own wide eyes once more.

“What is… can I…” he stammered. He took a deep breath. “I only want to help you, Buffy. How can I help?”

Her eyes fluttered shut. Both her hands grasped his as he delicately caressed her. She turned her mouth and nose into the palm of his hand and took a great whuffle of a breath. “You’re so kind, Will,” she whispered. “Why are you so kind?” She opened her eyes then and fixed them, gray-green now and intense with emotion, unsparingly on him.

He breathed against her mouth. “You know why!” His lips took hers roughly, but in the next second, he was slowing down, pulling her to him across the floor, his left knee between her open thighs. “You know why, Buffy,” he muttered urgently in her neck. She wrapped her arms around his back, plastered her chest to his and gripped the sharp corner of his shoulder between her teeth. She bit him gently, gave a shuddering sigh, and nodded against him.

“I know, Will.” She grasped his face between her hands and looked him square in the eye. They both held their breath as the moment stretched between them like taffy. Then she kissed him long and hard until they were both wild with it. Mad for each other. He surged against her on the kitchen floor, and she smiled and kissed him again, just the way he liked best.

***

It was dawn when William woke again, to the feel of Buffy pouring herself over him. She was warm and tousled from sleep, and she smelled of him. He could have sworn he purred when she pressed her lips to the base of his throat. She swung her leg over his hip, pressed against him. The curtains were open, and the bare branches outside the window stood starkly outlined against the purpling morning sky. Buffy was framed in the window, a dim shadow moving above him, a cascade of heat and sensation.

It felt like a dream.

William jolted up and reached for the bedside lamp. It came on with a snap and Buffy’s features were illuminated in the soft glow. “Need to see you,” he told her. He couldn't look away from her; he loved how she couldn’t make herself look anywhere but at him.

He let her push him back against the pillows, let her run the show and set the pace. She held his wrists down above his head and teased him with sweet little tastes of her lips, with the way she brushed her bare skin against his. Finally, he could take it no more and pressed his hips upwards. He hissed at the contact; his reward was Buffy’s own reaction. She let loose her grip on him and they came together in a passionate rush.

Buffy sat up against her haunches, her hips magnetized to his. She braced herself with her palms flat on his chest, the heel of each hand pressing down on his sensitive nipples. He gripped her waist firmly with one arm, held her tight and still against him. With his other hand, he reached up to twirl a lock of her long hair around his wrist. The golden rays of the rising sun peeking through his window silhouetted her; she glowed in the nimbus of light.

“Love this hair,” he said abstractedly. His gaze moved from her face to the curtain of her shining curls falling around them. “Love seein’ you like this, Buffy. Love the way you move, love the way you kiss. I love you, Buffy.” He pulled her flat against him and they began moving once more, pushing and grappling. They kissed till he saw spots, then a little bit longer. He could hear her name tumbling helplessly from his lips, a litany of adoration. As they soared over the edge together, she cried out his name, over and over.

When they were still and falling asleep, he felt her mouth caress his ear. “I love you,” she whispered, so softly he could hardly hear. “I really, really do.”

***

The house was dark and empty when he came home that night. He walked through the house, turning on lights and wondering where Buffy was.

The first clue was his bedside table. Yesterday she had sat on the edge of the bed, unintentionally as ever tantalizing him with her nightly routine. Brushing her hair. Removing her jewelry. Moisturizing.

She had a little collection of earrings, those dangly things she didn’t want to find tangled in her hair in the morning. She’d take them off each night, leaving them on the bedside table. The earrings were gone now, the of-late cluttered table looking oddly barren.

He tried to stop himself from opening the closet door and seeing the empty spaces where just yesterday her clothes had resided alongside his, but to no avail. Her dresser drawers revealed a similar void. His heart thumped painfully in his chest.

He wandered back into the living room and noted, somewhere beyond the numbness that was fast settling over him, that the book she had busied herself with for the past week was no longer lying on the couch. He scanned the shelves and nodded grimly when he spotted it.

He vanquished the last faint traces of hope and disbelief in the bathroom. Her small collection of creams and powders and lotions was gone. Her sponges and scrubs had disappeared from the shower. And in the middle of the mirror, in that deep red hue she knew drove him round the bend, was her kiss print.

William pressed his forearms against the mirror, bracing himself against where she had been. His forehead plastered to the mirror, his breath blurred the vision of her lips. He closed his eyes and laid his lips against her ghost. Then he pulled away from the mirror and reached beneath the sink for the window cleaner.

Every day was awful.

William had thought, foolishly, that it would get better each day, easier somehow to wake up alone and go to bed alone and startle awake in the middle of the night reaching for her and never quite being quick enough. She haunted him. He slept only in spurts, sometimes twenty minutes, another time three hours of sleep so hard he woke in a sweat. And always she was there. Golden. Glowing. Gentle and warm.

The first time he called her cell phone, it rang twice before going to voicemail. He called repeatedly over the next three days, but each time his call went directly to voicemail. On the fourth day, he received only a recorded message stating that ‘the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service.’

He got very, very drunk. It didn't help.

He went to the Doublemeat Palace, where the dead-eyed woman behind the counter had never heard of Buffy Summers. Manny, the manager and only slightly more animated than the minimum-wage grunts manning the grills, was equally clueless. William left with a mixed sigh of frustration and relief; finding Buffy at that place, with the relentless fluorescent lights that made him feel slightly less-than-human, and the lingering stench of old grease thick in the air, would have been almost as bad not finding her at all.

His stop at the diner was just as fruitless. They remembered Buffy, sure, but the only address they had on file for her was the shabby walk-up in the bad part of town. No emergency contact listed.

In an act of sheer desperation and not a little bit of self-loathing, he made his way to The Alibi Room. No Buffy, but plenty of cheap booze. Getting very, very drunk at the sleazy dive helped even less than getting very, very drunk at home.

It was almost two weeks later that he finally lit on a simple solution to the case of the missing girlfriend. He darted out of his office in the direction of the university library. He could have kicked himself for not thinking of this sooner – might have done so if he hadn’t been working so hard at pickling himself into oblivion. He knew when Buffy’s mother had died, he’d find her obituary and that bastard’s last name, and then he’d find Buffy.

There was no doubt in William’s mind that the phone call from Dawn had been the trigger for Buffy’s disappearance. When he thought of that night, the look in her eyes when he came upon her in the kitchen, he hated himself for not pursuing the cause of her distress, for thinking they could talk about it the next day. And when it came to Dawn and Buffy and trouble, the only thing he could think of was that rat bastard stepfather of theirs. So he’d find the man and kick his teeth in, if that was what it took to get Buffy back.

William lurched around the corner to the library entrance and came to a dead stop. Sitting on a bench just outside the library was a young girl with long, shiny brown hair and big blue eyes. A heavy plaster cast covered her left arm from wrist to bicep and a sulk adorned her face. She glanced up sullenly as he approached, then flipped her hair over her shoulder – and did shampoo-commercial hair run in the family or what? –and looked right through him.

“Dawn,” he said, and that caught her attention. She looked at him with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“Who’re you?” she asked with studied nonchalance, the surprise melting from her face to be replaced with bored indifference. William was pretty sure he knew where she got that trick from.

“You are Dawn, yeah?” he said. “You’re Buffy’s sister.”

She rolled her eyes. “Buffy’s my sister,” she replied with a heaping of scorn.

William sat on the bench next to the girl. “Thought you were in Iowa,” he said tersely.

She eyed him for a minute. “You’re Will, aren’t you?” she said finally, a bit of warmth creeping into her tone when he nodded. “Buffy won’t talk about you anymore, but she used to all the time, before I… when I was away.”

William absorbed this little tidbit of information. “What happened to your arm?” he asked gently.

Dawn cradled the arm in question closer to her body. “I fell,” she said. Her closed-off expression was another one William was too familiar with for comfort.

“For some reason,” William said, “I find that hard to believe.”

She was good, he’d give her that. She didn’t even twitch, just cut her eyes his way for a second and then resumed staring at nothing.

William sighed. He reached over and patted her hand tenderly. She flinched slightly at the contact, and he drew back. “Why aren’t you in Iowa anymore?”

Dawn drew her shoulders up to her ears. “I got in trouble. My aunt didn’t want me there anymore.”

He clenched his jaw, bit back a scathing comment about fair-weather relatives. “What kind of mischief could you get into, pigeon?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

She bit her lip before answering him. When she spoke, her voice was low and bitter, hardly the squeaky, squealing pre-teen voice he’d become familiar with from her calls to Buffy. “Oh, let me think. Drinking, smoking, shoplifting. That enough?” Dawn’s chin was down now, the point resting on her chest. She seemed to be trying to sink into the bench.

“Gotta say, I’m impressed,” William said. “I’d ask what you were thinkin’, but I expect you’ve heard that a time or two already.”

Dawn looked up at him with surprise. A smile crawled across her lips. “I think I’m getting why Buffy likes you so much,” she said.

“How is your big sis?” William asked, aiming for casual but missing by about a mile.

A guilty expression crossed Dawn’s face. “She’s okay, I guess,” she mumbled. “You could ask her yourself, you know.”

William felt a shock slide down his spine. His head swiveled around, as if he expected to find Buffy hiding somewhere along the hallway or behind a potted plant. “Where is she?”

Dawn cocked her head toward the library. “She’s in there, talking to Giles.”

“The librarian?” William’s head was spinning.

Dawn shrugged. “She said we needed help. Giles and Jenny – that’s his wife – were friends of our mom’s. We’ve been staying with them ever since…”

William gestured to Dawn’s arm. “Since you ‘fell’?”

Dawn nodded and her eyes welled up with tears. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been so… If I hadn’t had to come back here, everything would be okay. Buffy would be okay.”

William’s heart froze. He stood up and stormed to the library doors, yanking them open violently in his rush to get to his girl.

The three figures at the circulation desk turned at his sudden entrance. William had eyes only for the slender girl standing with the middle-aged librarian and a slim, dark-haired woman. She glowed, just as he remembered. Her long curls were gone, though, her hair cut into a short, sleek bob.

William took her into his arms and studied her closely. “You cut your hair,” he heard himself say stupidly. He was only peripherally aware of Giles’ startled face and instinctive step forward, which was halted by a touch on his arm from the woman next to him. Buffy filled his senses.

She seemed thinner to him, her trembling form engulfed in a thick, cowl-necked sweater. She wore more makeup than was usual for her, but it couldn’t hide the bruising on her left cheek and around her left eye, didn’t mask the swollen and split lip she sported. William caressed her face very carefully. “Oh, kitten,” he sighed. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Buffy stared up at him solemnly. One hand came up to stroke his cheek, but quickly pulled away. “I’m so sorry, William,” she whispered.

William shook his head. “I’m just glad you’re okay now,” he said. “But why’d you run off like that? Why didn’t you tell me what was goin’ on? Dawn would’ve been more than welcome at our place.”

Buffy sniffled. “I know it was stupid, I’m sorry.”

“And when he did this to you,” he gestured to her battered face, “why didn’t you call me for help?”

The tears Buffy had been fighting spilled over. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his chest. William tightened his arms around her. Then she took a deep breath and pulled back to look in his eyes. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble,” she said hoarsely. “I’m… Will, I’m so sorry, I should have told you.” William watched her and waited. “I lied to you,” she whispered finally. William felt his heart skip a beat. “I’m seventeen.”

Everything was very silent for a moment, then all William could hear was the roar of his blood rushing in his ears. His arms fell to his sides. Buffy dropped her gaze to his chest as Giles cleared his throat and moved towards them.

“Yes, well, Jenny, perhaps it would be best if you took the girls home now. I would like to have a word with Mr. Pratt.” Giles removed his glasses from his face and began polishing the lenses with a cloth as his wife stepped forward.

Jenny put an arm around Buffy and whispered something in her ear. Buffy nodded and moved away from William without another glance. William watched her walk away from him and felt his heart break a little bit more.

Giles’ voice broke into William’s thoughts. “Why don’t we talk in my office?” the older man suggested.

William nodded numbly and followed Giles to the small office behind the circulation desk. He took a seat in the wooden chair placed in front of the desk, gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles turned white.

Giles sat behind the desk and pressed his fingers to his temples for a moment before looking up at William. “Would you care for a drink?” he asked suddenly.

William was taken aback at the unexpected question. “Uh, yeah, thanks,” he said. He watched as Giles opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. Giles poured a generous splash into each glass and handed one to William. They drank in silence. William was grateful for the burn in his throat as the alcohol went down.

Giles leaned back in his chair and contemplated William for a moment before speaking. “I understand that you and Buffy were, ah, in a relationship for some time. Buffy was quite insistent that you were unaware of her age. Given your reaction to the news, I believe that you did not knowingly take advantage of her.”

William choked a little on the last of his drink. He plunked the glass down on Giles’ desk. “Take advantage?” he said, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.

Giles held his hands up. “Perhaps that was not the best choice of words,” he said. “Buffy was very clear about her wishes, and I agree with her that pursuing charges against you would only make a bad situation worse. Under the circumstances, however, it would be best for you not to have any further contact with her.”

“Charges?” William realized he was parroting the other man’s words, but the past ten minutes had done a number on him. His brain was still trying to process Buffy’s final words.

Giles cleared his throat and began polishing his glasses again. “We have no plans to mention your involvement with Buffy to the authorities. She certainly has enough to cope with as it stands. Her stepfather was arrested on suspicion of child abuse last week and she will be expected to testify when the case comes to trial.” He poured another scotch for each of them and knocked his back in one smooth motion. “Why she felt she couldn’t come to us until things had gotten so out of control…” he mused aloud, his voice thick with emotion.

William leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. “This is… I can’t... I just can’t.” Words failed him. He stood up, the chair scraping across the floor.

Giles stood as well. “Before you leave, I need your word that you will stay away from Buffy. Jenny and I have been granted temporary custody of both girls, and they are our responsibility. I am willing to disregard your, ah, past actions. But I must warn you that I will not be so understanding if you continue to pursue a relationship with a minor under my care.” His gray eyes were flinty as he faced William.

William met his eyes. “Since the day I met Buffy, I have only wanted the best for her. I… I’ll stay away from her.” He swallowed hard and turned on his heel, slamming the office door behind him.

***

Every day was awful.

William had thought, foolishly, that knowing the truth, knowing that Buffy had lied to him for months, would make it easier to be without her.

He was wrong.

At the end of February, he interviewed at Reed College. He was offered the position in their English department, and he began making arrangements for the move to Portland. He decided he would leave Sunnydale as soon as the school year was over. He hoped that a change of scene would ease the heartache he lived with every day.

He followed Buffy’s case in the papers. They didn’t mention her or Dawn by name, of course, respecting their privacy as minors, but Ted Buchanan’s trial was big news in Sunnydale for a time. He read about the conclusion of the trial with mixed feelings. The shite was going to prison, but his sentence was a mere six years – much too short in William’s estimation.

During the last week of classes, William was in his office, packing up his things, when the knock came on his door. “It’s open,” he called, not looking up from the filing cabinet. He heard the door open and someone stepped into the office, but didn’t say anything. He turned to see Buffy standing just inside the doorway.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he said roughly. She flinched at his tone, but stood her ground. He stared at her, soaking her in. She looked gorgeous, dressed in a demure white sundress that bared her tanned shoulders. She was wearing the locket he had given her for Christmas.

“Giles knows I’m here,” she said. “He told me you were leaving, that you got the job in Portland.” Buffy took a step closer to him, and he sat down abruptly, not trusting himself. He wanted to run to her, take her in his arms and never let her go. “I wanted to talk to you before you left.” She took a seat on the chair facing his desk and crossed her legs.

“So talk,” he said. He cursed himself silently when her face blanched at his curt words.

“I am sorry, Will,” she said quietly, looking not at him but down at her hands, which were clenched together in her lap. “I know I should have told you the truth, I knew it every single day. I just… I didn’t know what would happen if you knew, and…”

“Well, it’s too late now, innit? Can’t go back and tell you what might have been, what I might have done. Because you didn’t give me that choice.”

A tear slipped down Buffy’s cheek, but she was otherwise outwardly calm. She kept her eyes on him as he spoke.

William sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Buffy, all I wanted for you, all I ever wanted, was for you to be happy. D’you know what I thought the first time I saw you?” He gave her a fierce glance and she shook her head meekly. “I thought, ‘that girl doesn’t belong in a dive like this.’ I thought you glowed; you were the most incredible girl I’d ever seen. I knew right that instant that there was somethin’ special about you. An’ I was right.” He shook his head. “I wish you had trusted me enough to let me help you.”

Buffy nodded solemnly. “If… if I had told you, would…” She fixed him in her steady gaze.

William swallowed. “I want to say I would’ve done the right thing, Buffy, but I just don’t know. You were all I thought about since the day I met you. You were all I dreamt about. Christ, you’re still all I dream about. I’m drownin’ in you.”

Buffy smiled sadly and stood, moving around the desk toward him. William stood as well, and caught her wrist when she reached for him.

“Buffy, you know…” He closed his eyes tightly. “You know this can’t happen, we can’t… Much as I want you, kitten, in every way possible, it’s not gonna happen.” He looked at her. The expression on her face, the sheer grief written in every line, hit him like a punch to the gut. “You need to go now,” he said.

“Oh,” Buffy said. Her face fell and she turned away from him. At the doorway she stopped. Her hands moved up to her neck and she unfastened her necklace. “Here,” she murmured, holding it out to him. “You should… I can’t keep this, Will.”

William’s heart hurt. “I gave that to you, Buffy. It’s yours.” He took her hand in his and curled her fingers around the locket. He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. She gave him one last, small smile through the tears that were now falling freely, and walked out of his life.

All William wanted was for the woman on the quad to turn around so he could see her face. His rational mind knew that it wasn't her, just like every other heart-stopping glimpse of a petite figure with long blond hair or teasingly familiar curve of a woman's neck never turned out to be her. His stubborn heart, though, needed more proof.

Her hair was long, falling halfway down her back in the same shade of gold that he had so loved. He could see just the slope of her cheek and the tip of her chin, and it frustrated him that she wouldn't turn for a better view. Even her profile would be enough to convince him that it was just another mirage, and then he could turn his attention back to the essays he was meant to be grading. For now, though, his eyes remained fixed on the woman.

She was dressed in a cheery yellow blouse and denim capris. She was playing with a toddler, a dark-haired little boy who happily chased after the ball she rolled for him. William watched the flash of her slender, tanned limbs and thought of Buffy doing cartwheels and roundhouse flips in his backyard.

William gave himself a mental slap and forced himself to return to his desk and the work that was waiting for him. You’re over her, you ponce, he reminded himself, ignoring the obvious contradiction in that thought. It had been months since he'd thought of her, at least actively, the way he was thinking of her now. His eyes slid to the window again and it was several minutes before he consciously noticed that he was watching her once more.

William had thought - hoped, wished - that Buffy might contact him after she turned eighteen. When she didn't, when the months passed and he heard nothing from her, he told himself that it was nothing more than he should have expected. He thought of how she had lied to him for months with seeming ease; thought of how from the very start she had lied about things both big and small, hidden things from him. It made him doubt everything about their relationship. He had been aware even while they were together that he was a safe haven from a desperate situation; what wouldn’t she have said to keep that safety net? He didn't want to think that her feelings had been nothing more than gratitude for what he offered, but the further he got from her, from the heat and surety of their relationship, the more he doubted.

He told himself that she had been young, very young, when they were together, and what creature is more fickle than a teenage girl? That line of reasoning did nothing to comfort him, however, and he had promptly crawled into a bottle. It was during the prodigious drinking jag brought on by the lack of Buffy that he met Harmony.

He'd picked her up at a bar, initially drawn to her by her long, golden hair that was almost the same shade as Buffy's. That was, unfortunately, where the similarities ended. Still, she was warm and willing in his bed, and he wasn't going to turn that down, even if the girl did have the IQ of a piece of lint. They lasted all of three months and, surprisingly, it was Harmony who ended the relationship after she got tired of William calling out the wrong name during sex.

Getting dumped by a girl like Harmony did nothing for his desire to jump back into dating. For a long time, he'd stuck to harmless flirting at the bar, interspersed with the occasional one-night stand. And if he thought of how he'd told Buffy that casual sex wasn't his style? Easy enough to wash that memory away with a shot or six.

William sighed heavily when he realized he was staring again. Give it up, he chided himself. The mental talking-to was fruitless, however, and his gaze remained on the woman. She glanced up suddenly, exposing a sliver more of her face to William. The breath caught in his throat as she – finally! – turned around to greet the coltish, long-limbed girl who now joined her on the lawn. There was no mistaking that smile, those eyes, that little bump at the end of her nose. Especially when coupled with the presence of a girl he immediately identified as Dawn.

William stood, fingers gripping the windowsill painfully as he watched her. It really was her. He could hardly believe that, after four years of intermittent longing, she was so close. He dithered for a moment, not sure what he wanted to do, what he should do. As he stood there, heart thumping and mind racing, Buffy rose and gathered the toddler up. She and Dawn started walking across the quad, their figures growing smaller with every step.

That decided him. He turned, ready to race through the hall and down the stairs to catch her before she disappeared from his life again. And came face to face with Norah.

His girlfriend.

She smiled at him from the doorway, then tilted her head to the side as she regarded him. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

William spared one more backwards glance through his window; Buffy was going, going, gone. He turned back to Norah, his beautiful girl with her glossy chestnut hair and sparkling brown eyes, and smiled heartily. “I’m fine,” he said. “Are you ready to grab lunch?”

But it was in that moment, with his palms sweating and hope dying in his stomach, that he finally admitted to himself how very much not over Buffy he truly was.

***

Years of practice at putting Buffy out of his mind had made William quite adept at it, so it was no surprise that she was the last thing he was thinking of when he – quite literally – bumped into her a week later. He was leaving his last class of the day, and just as he stepped out of Eliot Hall, he collided with a body. The sheaf of papers he carried went flying.

“Bollocks,” he muttered to himself, kneeling to collect his things. He glanced up when a small, warm hand brushed across his, and froze. He was staring directly into Buffy’s big, hazel eyes.

“William,” she breathed. The way she said his name, as if it meant something, pierced him to the core. The look in her eyes – like a drowning woman just thrown a rope – sent a shiver of hot desire down his spine. He watched her cheeks flush and realized he had been staring at her for far too long without moving or speaking.

“Buffy,” he said finally. His voice shook a little, but no more than his hands.

Buffy smiled uncertainly at him. “Hello,” she said. She handed him the papers she had gathered up, and they stood slowly, eyes fixed on one another.

William drank her in; she looked exactly the same as he remembered, as he'd dreamt her, but entirely different at the same time. Because she was here, in front of him, breathing and large as life. Her hair was loose around her shoulders the way he liked it, those rich, shiny, bouncing curls. He fought the urge to touch her.

“Buffy,” he repeated. “What are you doing here?”

Her cheeks reddened again and she looked away from him. “I… I’m meeting a friend for coffee,” she said quietly. Then she crossed her arms and lifted her chin. She flashed her eyes at him as she added, “I’m not stalking you or anything.”

She was so completely herself in that moment, so much the Buffy he had missed, that he couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of his chest. "No, of course not," he said. "You surprised me, is all."

He was going to mention the day last week when he'd seen her; he desperately wanted to ask her about the child he'd seen her with. But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a voice called her name.

Buffy turned and waved to a redheaded woman who hurried toward them. "William, this is my friend, Willow," Buffy introduced them.

"Oh, Professor Pratt," Willow smiled. "I took your Intro to Poetry class my freshman year."

William nodded and watched Buffy as she and her friend talked. She carried herself with a womanly confidence that was new to her, and he realized for the first time just how young she had been when he knew her. She hadn't seemed it at the time - or if she had, only very rarely - but looking at her now, he could see the difference between the girl she had been and the woman she had become.

He blinked when he heard his name. Willow was asking him something. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I asked if you wanted to join us for coffee," she said.

William spared a quick glance at Buffy. She wasn't looking at him, and her tense shoulders betrayed her nerves. He paused for a moment before answering Willow, sure that he was going to decline the offer. Then Buffy turned to him with a small smile. He took it as an encouraging sign. "I'd love to," he said.

Willow grinned. She hooked arms with Buffy and whispered something into her ear that made Buffy smile again. The girls chatted easily as they walked, and William let their voices flow over him without really absorbing what they were saying. He followed them to one of the on-campus cafes.

He finally broke his silence when they were seated at a small outdoor table, drinks in hand. "I saw you last week, Buffy," he said. "You were with Dawn, on the quad."

"She was here for a tour," Buffy explained. "She likes the language program, especially the Russian and Chinese offerings. She's freakishly good at foreign languages."

"And the little boy you had with you? Is he..." His voice trailed off as she looked at him calmly. He really wanted to know what was going through her head.

Buffy shook her head. "That was Alistair. Jenny and Giles' little boy," she said. William let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Buffy gave him her best Mona Lisa smile; she knew exactly what he'd been thinking. That she could still read him so easily gave him a secret thrill.

"You... did you stay with them, then? After..." William glanced at Willow, not sure how much he could say, how much Buffy had already shared with her friend.

"After the trial?" Buffy asked. William nodded. "Yeah, they were great. They are great. Dawn finally got the father she deserved, and Jenny is amazing. Their home has been the perfect place for her."

"What about for you?" William leaned towards Buffy a little. She met his eyes for a moment before dropping her gaze to her hands.

"It was... they were very good to me. Even though I tried everything I could to not deserve it." Buffy took a sip of her coffee and added, "Jenny taught me how to cook."

"Well, that's a blessing, innit?" William teased. "'Specially as you were so bloody determined to do it."

Buffy laughed. "You'd be impressed. I hardly ever put the wrong milk in the scrambled eggs anymore."

"I’ll believe it when I see it. You can cook for me sometime, kitten, show off your skills." William caught Buffy's blush. He wasn't sure if the blush was for the pet name or the implication that he wanted to see her again. Whatever it was, he was more than halfway to hooked again, craving this vibrant woman sitting across from him. He sighed inwardly and wished things could be easy.

Willow cleared her throat, and Buffy and William turned to look at her, realizing at the same moment that they had been ignoring her presence. "This has been great," she said cheerily as she stood. "But I have another class to get to, so I'll just be going. See you later, right, Buff?"

Buffy nodded silently as her friend gathered her things and walked away. Her nerves came back when she was alone with William; he saw it in the way she fidgeted with her coffee cup and tapped her nails on the table. She dumped a packet of sugar on the table and swirled it into a spiral with her fingertip.

William couldn't help it. He reached across the table and took her hand in his. She stilled instantly and looked him straight in the eye. "’S’good to see you, Buffy," he said. "I've missed you."

A soft smile lit Buffy's face as she grasped his hand tightly. "I missed you, too," she said, very softly. She placed her free hand on top of their entwined fingers and took a deep breath. "I have a confession to make."

William waited.

Buffy bit her bottom lip before speaking. "I, uh, I kinda asked Willow to find out your schedule for me. I had this whole plan, where I’d run into you on campus and ask you out for coffee…” She grinned at him. “Exhibit A. But I don’t want to play some stupid game, I don’t want to, to lie to you. About anything. I just… I needed to see you.”

"Buffy," he said with a smile. She stopped talking and looked up at him, worry evident in her eyes. He grinned at her. "Not complainin' here."

She laughed and the tension ran out of her shoulders. "Good. Okay, well, the next part of the plan was for me to invite you to the annual school's-out party Willow and I are hosting this Friday. So consider yourself officially invited."

William chuckled. "How many parts does this plan of yours have, pet?"

Before Buffy could respond, a shadow fell over William's face. He looked up and met Norah's quizzical eyes. When he didn't move, she quirked an eyebrow at his hands, still linked with Buffy's in the center of the table. "Norah," he said as he pulled his hands back to his lap, "I'd like you to meet Buffy." Buffy nodded. "Buffy, this is Norah."

Norah extended a hand in greeting. "Hi,” she said, a touch too cheerily. “I'm William's girlfriend.”

Buffy took her hand. "Nice to meet you," she said with a smile. She glanced from William to Norah. "I should go." She stood and looked at him one more time. "It was great seeing you again, Will.” She nodded again to Norah and was gone.

William had been sure, when Buffy scarpered off following Norah's interruption, that she was gone for good. When he arrived on campus the next morning, however, there was a voice mail from an obviously nervous Buffy.

"Hi, it's Buffy. Um, sorry I took off like that, I just... So, you have a girlfriend? That's, um... But I really would like to see you. Just to talk, I mean, because I have some things I wanted to talk to you about. So, like I said, my roommates and I are having a party on Friday, or if you want to just get together sometime you can give me a call. Okay?"

She rattled off an address and phone number, which William hurried to jot down. He grinned and played the message a second time - to make sure he had the address correct, he told himself, but he knew it was really just to hear her voice.

He was proof-reading a final exam when the knock came on his office door. He looked up to see Norah standing in the doorway. "Morning," she said. "I thought you might like some coffee." She held out the to-go cup she carried as he stood up and moved around his desk toward her.

"Thanks," William said, taking the coffee. They looked at each other in an awkward silence for a moment. William glanced down at his desk and saw the scrap of paper with Buffy's name and number scribbled on it. Norah's eyes followed his and widened almost imperceptibly. Guilt stabbed at him, and he sighed heavily.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Norah asked gently.

William took a sip of his coffee before answering. "I don't know what to tell you," he said finally, not quite looking at her.

"Are you going to see her again?"

William looked up to meet Norah's eyes. She was watching him calmly, arms folded across her chest. She wasn't angry, but he could see the hurt that lingered behind her serene countenance. It was the same expression she'd had the day before, when he'd brushed off her questions and assured her that Buffy was nothing more than an old friend. "I don't know," William said helplessly. He sank into a chair, and Norah sat as well. "She... she wants to see me." He squeezed his eyes shut. His head ached.

"What do you want, William?" Norah questioned.

Buffy, he thought, but didn't say. He shrugged his shoulders silently.

"Does that mean you don't know, or you aren't going to tell me?"

"I don't want to hurt you," he said. "You know that, right?"

Norah fixed him in her suddenly steely gaze. "What do you think is going to hurt me more, William? Telling me the truth, or stringing me along until you get the guts to go after what you really want?"

She was getting mad now; he could hear it in the tightness in her voice, see it in the flash of her dark eyes. His own temper rose, spurred on by the guilt and confusion and longing that had his insides tied up in knots. "You're so smart, why don't you tell me what it is I want?" he ground out.

Norah shook her head. "I didn't come here to fight with you. I just want to know where I stand, is all. The way you were looking at her yesterday.... William, if you had ever once looked at me like that, I'd be fighting tooth and nail for you." A tear slipped down her cheek, and William's guilt ratcheted up.

He leaned forward and reached for her hand. "Norah," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, I really am. I'm so turned around right now."

Norah pulled her hand out of his grasp. She wiped her eyes and regarded him calmly. "See, I don't think you are," she said. "You don't want to talk to me because you think I'm going to be hurt. If you weren't sure I'm not..." She took a deep breath. "You know what you want, William," she continued after a moment. "And we both know I'm not it."

"Ah, Norah," William sighed. He wanted to reassure her, but he couldn't find the words. He dropped his head into his hands, wishing he could just skip this. He heard her chair scrape across the floor, followed by the click of her heels on the floor. She stood in front of his chair. He felt her hand rest gently on the back of his neck. "It's like I'm stuck," he said. "There's a part of me that's still living in this dream I had, and seeing her... it makes it all come rushing back, and I want to be there again. I want her."

Norah's hand lifted from his skin; he felt immediately bereft. She stepped back and looked him in the eye as he raised his head. "Thank you," she whispered.

William blinked. "For what?"

"For being honest." She smiled at him, a little sadly. "I've been waiting for... well, maybe not this, exactly, but something. For as long as I've known you, William, you've been, I don't know, distant. Holding back. Like you're keeping your heart out of everything.”

“I'm sorry.” The words sounded feeble to him.

“Me, too,” Norah said. She bent down and kissed him very softly, then turned and walked out of his office.

***

William parked his DeSoto across the street from Buffy's house and gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before killing the engine. He reached into the glove box and retrieved his flask.He took one long, burning swig of whiskey to settle his jittery nerves, and stepped out of the car.

He stared up at the house, contemplating his next move. The past several days had been spent in a flurry of activity – rewriting final exams, grading essays, drinking entirely too much – all of which was aimed at leaving him neither the time nor the capacity to think about Buffy. To say it had been unsuccessful would be grossly understating the situation. No matter what he did, where he was, who he was with, she was at the forefront of his mind. He had it bad, he knew that – he hadn't felt this hopelessly torn up and turned around since the months before he'd left Sunnydale.

Taking a deep breath – and one last slug from the flask – William made his way across the street and up the stairs of the wide porch. The house was mostly dark; a light was visible from an upstairs window, and a dim light shone behind the curtained picture window on the first floor. Before he could chicken out, he lifted one shaking hand and rapped sharply on the door. He waited a full minute before knocking a second time. Through the narrow window next to the front door, he saw a light come on, and then a shadowy figure approached the door. His heart beat painfully in his chest.

The door swung open slowly to reveal Buffy dressed in a thin gray robe, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. William couldn't speak for a moment, could only drink in the sight of her.

"William? What are you doing here?" Her voice broke into his thoughts.

"Hello, pet," he said, leaning against the door frame. "Needed to see you."

Buffy looked up at him with startled eyes before nodding and opening the door wider in a silent invitation. William stepped into the house. They watched each other, neither willing to break the silence for the time being. Buffy fidgeted with the sash of her robe. William's eyes were drawn to the vee of tanned skin visible between the edges of the garment.

"Will, what are you doing here?" Buffy asked again. Her voice was quiet, hesitant. "I thought maybe tomorrow, but..."

William grinned and took a step closer to her. "What can I say? I couldn't wait."

She smiled a little at that, but moved away from him. He followed her, drawn to her like iron filings to a magnet. Before she could edge away again, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her body into his. He could feel the heat of her through her robe. His forearm rested on the delicious, soft curve of her buttocks; his fingers curled into the swell of her hip. His mouth crashed against hers without thought, his lips and tongue and teeth demanding and edacious.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss. He poured into it all of the tumultuous emotions she had awoken in him with her sudden reappearance. Guilt, anger, heartache... all the confusion and torment inside of William went into that kiss. But then he felt Buffy's hands on his chest, pushing against him. He tasted salt and realized she was crying. He pulled out of the kiss, still holding her tightly with one arm, and buried his face in her hair.

"Sorry," he murmured. He breathed heavily, trying desperately to regain control over himself. This hadn't been his intention in coming here. He had wanted only to see her, to talk to her. "I'm so sorry," he said again. When he moved to step away from her, though, her grip on him changed. Her hands fisted into the material of his t-shirt and pulled him tighter against her. Her arms slid to his shoulders and across his shoulder blades to tease along his spine before pressing into the small of his back. His hold on her waist loosened fractionally. He brought his other hand up to her hair, let the golden strands slip through his fingers, and they melted together into a tender embrace.

"Missed this," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. His hands came up to her cheeks, turned her face towards his. He searched her watery eyes for a second before dipping his head again, his lips brushing lightly against hers. "Buffy," he whispered, and kissed her again. He felt complete for the first time in years; he felt as if he'd come home.

It was some time before William came back to his senses. He gently disentangled himself from her, his hands on her shoulders holding her at arm's length. Buffy nodded, as if she'd gotten the answer to a question he didn't know she was asking, and took a step back from him, her arms folded across her chest. William studied her; her cheeks were flushed and tear-stained, and her lips swollen from his kisses. He thought she'd never looked more beautiful.

"Buffy," he said just as the front door swung open.

A broad shouldered man stepped into the house and stopped abruptly on seeing William and Buffy. His dark-eyed gaze went back and forth between them before settling on Buffy. "Hey, Buffster, everything okay?" he asked with concern.

Buffy nodded and wiped the last of her tears away. "Yeah, Xander, I'm fine. Um, this is William."

The coolly appraising look Xander turned on him made William feel suddenly self-concious. He wondered what Buffy had told the younger man about him. Looking at them as Xander moved to stand next to Buffy, his hand caressing her arm for a second and a silent conversation passing between them in a simple look, William also wondered what they were to one another.

"I'm going to get dressed, Will," Buffy said. "Then we can talk, okay?"

William nodded.

"Do you want something to drink? Xander can get you whatever you'd like, right?" Buffy looked up at Xander with a slightly pleading expression.

Xander smiled. "Sure, Buff." He turned to William, and the smile fell off his face. Buffy didn't seem to notice, just graced them both with a bright, brittle smile, and hurried upstairs.

"Do you want a beer?" Xander offered stiffly.

"Sure, thanks," William replied. He waited in the hallway, quietly examining the photos that covered the walls. The photo of Buffy with her mother and sister, the one that once upon a time had hung in his home – their home – was prominently displayed. He quickly scanned the other pictures, looking for Buffy's face in each of them and finding her with Dawn, with Giles and his wife, with their baby. Lots of pictures, but none that screamed 'couple' to him.

He tried to reassure himself that she wouldn't have clung to him and kissed him the way she had if she was seeing someone.

Then Xander was standing in front of him, a beer clutched in either hand. "Thanks, mate," William said as he accepted the bottle. They stood in an awkward silence, both sipping on their beers and eying each other up as obliquely as possible. Possible questions to ask this man flitted through William's mind, but he dismissed them all as too obviously fishing for information about Buffy. William heaved a mostly-silent sigh of relief when he heard Buffy's tread on the stairs. Both men turned grateful eyes toward her as she approached.

William smiled at the sight of her. She'd taken her hair out of the ponytail, and it bounced in golden waves around her face and shoulders. She wore a dark green tank top, and when she turned to retrieve a sweatshirt from the hook by the front door, he spied a tattoo – delicate black characters; Sanskrit, he thought – on her right shoulder.

Buffy slipped her arms into the sweatshirt and faced him. Her gaze slid past him briefly to meet Xander's eyes. “It's such a nice night,” she said. “Why don't we go outside?”
William nodded his agreement and followed her through the house. She stopped in the kitchen and retrieved a beer for herself from the refrigerator before leading him into the backyard. She sat at the picnic table in the middle of the yard and took a sip of her beer.

William sat next to her and studied her profile for a moment. “Buffy,” he said finally, when she didn't seem inclined to break the silence. “What's going on? You show up out of the blue and tell me you need to see me and... I don't know what to think.” Frustration tinged his voice.

Buffy sighed. “I know. I didn't mean to, you know, disrupt your life or anything. But I needed...” She looked away from him, but he could see the tears that began to fill her eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” He spoke gently but firmly, and was gratified when she turned back to him. “I'm a little thrown, yeah, but sweetheart, I am so glad to see you again. Okay?”

She nodded. “I wanted to talk to you, ask you some things. Say some things. I tried, back in Sunnydale. Before you left. But I was too scared, and I think you were too angry.”

“You're not wrong. But I'm not angry now.” He smiled reassuringly when she shot him a quick look. "Go on, then," he encouraged.

“Why didn't you ever come back?” she asked.

William took a deep breath. “Couldn't start off with an easy one, eh, pet? Like, how've you been?”

Buffy laughed. "Okay. How have you been, William?"

He felt the smile drop off his lips. “Y'know, the past year or so, I thought I was doing all right. Love my job, been writing more than I have in years, getting some papers published. Started dating a real nice lady, even.”

Buffy's eyes went dark, and her head fell forward. “And then I showed up.” It wasn't a question.

William sighed and took a long swallow of his beer. “Well, yeah.” He took in the sorrow evident on her face. “Buffy, you walking back into my life... I thought I had things figured out, y'know? Put the past behind me, moved on, all that rot. Then I see you and...” He paused and reached for her hand. It trembled slightly in his. “All right, so maybe that wasn't the easier question.”

Buffy scooted a little closer to him on the bench. “Wanna go back to the original one then?”

For the first time in years, William wished for a cigarette. Something – anything – to occupy his hands and mouth while he thought of how to answer her. "You weren't exactly beating a path to my door, either, pet," he said finally. He knew that wasn't quite fair, tell the girl to talk to him and then turn it around on her.

"I know," Buffy said quietly. "But I'm here now."

"Yeah, here you are." William gently ran his fingers down her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. They were suddenly very close to one another; he could feel the warmth of her denim-clad leg next to his. He slid an arm around her shoulders and reveled in the feel of her, soft and trusting in his arms. "Thought I was doing what was best for you, Buffy," he said. His voice was very low. "You had so much crap thrown at you, you never got a chance to be a kid. Thought you needed a chance to grow up a little bit. And... well, thought you deserved better than me."

Buffy pulled away from him. "That's just stupid," she said indignantly.

William shook his head. "I was no good for you, Buffy. I told you I'd help you, but I didn't. I told you I wouldn't leave you, and I did."

"You helped me, Will," Buffy said hoarsely. She leaned her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. "You have no idea how much."

William laughed hollowly. "When I let you go back to that bastard, let him hurt you and your sister, was that helping?"

"You didn't know what I was going to do," Buffy protested.

"Maybe not, but I knew something was going on that night. But instead of finding out what it was, I let my cock do my thinking for me." He grabbed her wrists and peeled her arms off of him. "And when I found you again, I gave up without a fight. Walked out of your life when you needed me more than ever. You think I deserve a girl like you, if that's how I treat you?" William released her hands and backed away from her. "Can't blame you if you hated me."

Buffy followed him, her eyes fixed on his. She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "I never hated you, William," she said. "You saved my life."

William scoffed at that.

"I'm serious. I was... god, I was such a mess when I met you. But you were so patient and kind and... and you loved me, no matter what I did. No matter what I told you about me. You remember the first time I came to your house?"

William nodded.

"That was the first time I'd cried since my mother died. I hadn't talked about my mom to anyone since she died, not even Dawnie. I hadn't let myself cry about her, because I felt like I would fall apart if I did. I don't know what it was about you, but... William, you were exactly what I needed. It was like I'd been walking around in a little bubble, nothing could touch me, but I couldn't feel anything, either. Then I met you and that bubble popped, and sometimes it hurt, but mostly I was so happy to feel again."

Buffy took a deep breath and buried her head in William's chest for a moment before continuing. "And you made me feel like the whole thing with Ted wasn't my fault. I know," she said when he would have interrupted her, "I know it wasn't, but it took a lot for me to believe it. You... you gave me the strength I needed to ask for help after Dawn came home. So don't think you didn't help me, Will, because you did. Even when you weren't there, you were helping me."

William slid his fingers into her hair and tipped her head back. "’S that so?" he whispered. She nodded, her eyes wide and luminous and very, very green.

"I never got to thank you for... for everything. Or to tell you how sorry I was, for lying to you. For hurting you, for taking off like I did. That's what I wanted to say to you, William. Thank you. And I'm so, so very sorry." She brought one hand up to trace the scar on his eyebrow. Then she stretched upward and pressed her lips to his in a chaste, tender kiss.

William's hands slipped down her back and pulled her tight against him. He groaned at the feel of her body pressed against his. "Christ, Buffy, what you do to me!"

She gave him a shy little smile. "Is this okay? That I want to kiss you and, and be with you?"

He let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Can't you tell, pet?"

Buffy shrugged. "I didn't want to assume anything, Will. And, wait, what about your girlfriend?" She pulled out of his grasp, her expression suddenly fierce.

"She broke up with me. Or I broke up with her." He furrowed his brow. "Not really sure, just know that we're not together."

"I'm sorry," Buffy said. She didn't sound the least bit sorry, however. And then she was back in his arms, her fingers twining through his hair and pulling him down to meet her questing lips.

When they stopped to breathe, Buffy crawled into William's lap and laid her head on his shoulder. "I tried so hard to get over you," she said, her breath warm and moist on his throat. "But I couldn't."

"You shouldn’t have bothered," William said. He dropped a light kiss on the crown of her head and smoothed soft circles across her back. “I’m plain irresistible.”

Buffy laughed softly and kissed his neck. He shivered and gripped her shoulders tightly. “Buffy,” he whispered. “I couldn’t get over you, either. Thought I had, till I saw you again. Then it all came back, like it was yesterday.”

“Can you forgive me?” she asked. She rested her forehead against his.

“Only if you can forgive me, sweetheart.”

She kissed him for all she was worth. “I’m sorry,” she muttered into his mouth.

“For what now, pet?”

“For wasting so much time. I was so stupid, I thought there was no way you would want me after…”

He silenced her with a kiss. “Silly girl. I always wanted you. Always will. I told you, you’re the one, Buffy. You’re the only one for me. Want you to be my girl.”

“Oh, I am, William.”

He smiled at her. “Good,” he said, satisfaction coloring his voice. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her again.

One Year Later

William opened one eye and squinted at the clock before turning to Buffy and trailing light kisses down her bare back. “Wake up, sunshine,” he murmured in her ear. “Got lots to do today.”

“Mmpf,” Buffy grumbled into her pillow. She swatted at him and pulled the covers up around her ears. “Tired. Sleep now.”

William leaned against the headboard and smiled down at her rumpled blond head. “All right, you can sleep in. But no presents for graduates who don’t get out of bed on time…”

Buffy opened her eyes and peered up at him. “Presents?”

He nodded. “But we can wait till after graduation if you’d rather,” he said.

“No, no, I’m awake.” She rolled over and stretched. “See, all wide-eyed and bushy-“ A huge yawn interrupted her declaration of wakefulness. “Okay, so maybe some coffee would be of the good here.”

“I can go brew a pot.”

Buffy grabbed his arm when he moved to get out of bed. “Oh, no, mister, you said presents, I want presents! Coffee can wait. Now gift me. Gift me good.”

William laughed and kissed her. When he was finally able to pull himself away from her lips and limbs, he reached into the drawer of the bedside table. Buffy rolled her eyes at him.

“I have really got to remember that you have no concept of how to hide things,” she said.

“If you’re going to be sassy, I can just put this somewhere you’ll never find it.”

Buffy smiled sweetly. “I’ll be good. Promise.” Buffy held out her hand expectantly and glanced up at him in surprise when he handed her two airplane tickets. “We’re going to… England? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. Been talking to Giles, and he and Jenny are planning a trip with Dawn and Alistair this summer. Thought we could go, too.”

“Oh, my god, that’s fantastic! Thank you!” Buffy sat up and hugged him tightly.

“Glad you like it, pet. We’re going to be there a bit longer than everyone else. We’ll fly out with them, but after they leave, we’ve got another two weeks to explore. Maybe head over to France, if you like.”

Buffy sort of melted into his arms. “This is perfect, William,” she said.

“Well, that means it’s just about good enough for you, then.” He kissed her softly. “Have I told you lately how proud I am of you? You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a treat before you start grad school.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Buffy groaned. “Why am I not taking a year off?”

“Because you really want to be a psychologist? Or you’re crazy, I’m not sure which.” William brushed her messy hair away from her face. “Now, you want some breakfast in bed before I go fetch your family from the airport?”

Buffy tugged him down onto the mattress next to her. “Only if you’re on the menu,” she said with a saucy grin.


***

William watched with pride as Buffy strode across the stage in her cap and gown, and collected her diploma from the dean of students. She turned toward the audience with a brilliant smile; even though she couldn’t see him in the sea of faces, he knew that smile was just for him.

A warm hand gripped his tightly, and he looked over at Dawn’s shining face. “You’re going to do it at dinner, right?” she whispered in his ear.

William nodded and swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “That’s the plan, pigeon,” he said. “Now shush, no one else’s supposed to know. Not till big sis does.” He flicked his eyes past Dawn to Giles and Jenny, who were, of course, paying no attention to either of them. Jenny was busy keeping Alistair entertained and quiet, while Giles was looking suspiciously teary-eyed and polishing his glasses.

William was lost in his thoughts through the rest of the graduation ceremony and was startled when Dawn tugged on his sleeve. “C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go find Buffy!”

He followed her slender form through the crowd, and within five minutes, he spied Buffy’s golden hair. She turned and spotted him and Dawn. She grinned widely and waved her diploma in the air. William rushed to her side and swept her into his arms, hugging her close. “There’s my girl,” he said. “So proud of you, love.”

Dawn pushed him aside as soon as he released Buffy and gave her sister an enormous hug. “Yay! Can we go eat now?” she demanded. She winked at William over Buffy’s shoulder. He rolled his eyes at her and shook his head.

Buffy laughed at Dawn. “Always thinking with your stomach,” she teased. “But no, I want to talk to some of my friends and professors first. You’ll just have to wait. Maybe Jenny has some Cheerios you can munch on or something.”

Dawn sighed and came to stand next to William, waiting as patiently as an over-caffeinated seventeen year old was able while Buffy accepted congratulations from Giles and Jenny and planted adoring kisses on Alistair’s chubby cheeks. Buffy’s friends – Willow and her girlfriend Tara, Xander and his fiancé Anya – crowded around her in an excited buzz.

It was almost an hour later when Buffy was ready to leave the Portland State University campus. She slipped her hand into William’s and linked arms with Dawn. They headed north on the pedestrian trail towards downtown, where they were to meet everyone for dinner at Buffy’s favorite restaurant. Buffy and Dawn chattered excitedly as they walked the tree-lined path. William let them natter on, happy just to be with his two best girls on a beautiful spring day. His right hand drifted to his pocket and surreptitiously patted the small box contained there.

William let his mind drift. Finding Buffy again – or rather, being found by Buffy – had been a turning point for him. He had realized, especially after the things Norah had said to him, that he had been intensely lonely for most of his life. Even during his relationship with Dru, he had kept his distance from everyone around him. It was only with Buffy that he had opened up and allowed someone in, let someone know who he really was. Since they had reconnected, he’d found himself accepted into her tight-knit circle of friends and family. To a man who’d spent much of his youth as an object of ridicule and his early adult years trying to maintain a tough-guy image that truly didn’t fit, it was a welcome change to be liked for himself.

They had reached a small park on Southwest Madison when William came to a sudden stop. He looked at Buffy’s shining hair and happy face, dappled in the sunlight, and drew her off the path and onto the grass. Buffy and Dawn wore identical expressions of surprise when he dropped to one knee in front of Buffy. He heard Dawn’s excited, “Oh my god!” as he took Buffy’s hand in his, but he couldn’t pay attention to anything but the look in Buffy’s eyes.

“I was going to wait,” he said, “but I just can’t. I love you, Buffy Anne Summers. You have made my life worth living. Every day that I spend with you is a day that I am grateful to be alive. Please, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He fumbled for the ring box in his pocket and held it out to her. “And please don’t run away from me this time,” he added with a grin.

Buffy flushed at his final words, but the huge smile never dropped from her face. “Oh, William,” she said, falling to her knees and raining kisses on his face. “Yes, yes, of course!”

Tears filled William’s eyes as he carefully slid the ring onto her trembling finger. They shared a tender kiss before they were both knocked sideways by the force of Dawn wrapping her long arms around them.

“Oh my god, you guys, I’m so happy!” she squealed into William’s ear. “Hang on, I need to take a picture!” She pulled her camera from her purse and began snapping pictures.

William chuckled at Dawn’s antics before looking back at Buffy. He gazed at her solemnly, the barest hint of a smile curving his lips. “I love you,” he said, and kissed her again.

“I love you, too, Mr. Pratt,” Buffy said.

“You’re always gonna be my girl, right?”

“I am. I promise.” Buffy glanced down at her ring and back up at William. “Always.”

And she was.