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Author's Chapter Notes:
thanks so much for sticking with me throught all this guys, your reviews have been my inspiration!

this is the first BTVS fic I have ever written (only the third fic ever), so I really appreciate your feedback. Hope you all enjoy the story!
When Buffy awoke the next morning, the first thing that she realized was that she felt good. It wasn't until she opened her eyes to the hotel room that had become her prison that the sadness returned. Resolving herself that today she would find some way out of this stone prison, she sat up in bed. She nearly fell out of bed when she heard the soft groan from behind her.

Gingerly she extracted herself from the blankets and stood up, leaving the sleeping man where he lay. Although her first reaction was to scream, brief images flitted through her now fully awakened mind that kept her silent. Him carrying her into the bathroom, a gentle hand stroking her face, warm arms surrounding her as she slept.

"No, that couldn't be the same man", she thought. "I must have dreamt it." She forced her eyes shut and tried to recall her other memories of him. Red eyes flashing in the mirror, strong hands holding her down, his body forcing her up against a wall as he took her. Deep sadness when he spoke of his mother, trapped here for a hundred years.

"Damn it!" Buffy thought again. Where had her hatred for this monster gone? She shot a glare at his sleeping form, but even that softened when she saw his almost angelic looking face. Even with his stunningly beautiful eyes hidden behind closed lids, his features could take her breath away. His high-set cheekbones, strong chin, soft, wide lips, and a nose that was ever so slightly crooked. As Buffy watched him, he rolled over, snoring slightly.

Fearful that he might wake up, she studied him carefully for any sign of waking. His deep breaths soon assured her that he was still out cold. "Wait, he is breathing" she thought. "He is human, or at least for now." She equated humanity with fallibility; he could be hurt.

Quickly, she glanced around the room for something, anything that could be used as a weapon. Her eyes came to rest on the brass lamp on the dresser. "Perfect" she thought. Stealthily, she stood and approached the heavy metal object, stooping to unplug it and deftly wrapping the cord around its base.

Satisfied that she could now move it, Buffy lifted the heavy lamp, suppressing the grunt of exertion that almost slipped out. Within a few halting steps, Buffy had reached the side of the bed. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the heavy lamp above her head. Pausing there, she took a moment to think about what she was about to do.

She was fully intent on slamming the heavy object down onto William's head. If he was immortal, then this would serve no purpose but to anger him. This wasn't the thought that stopped her though, she sadly realized. If he was mortal, the blow to his face would no doubt shatter his skull, effectively maiming him if not killing him.

While her common sense told her to do it already, her conscience wouldn't let her. She took another deep breath, and looked at him, still holding the lamp poised to deliver the deadly blow. As she watched though, those stormy blue eyes opened, and the two locked gazes in total silence. They remained like that for a moment, neither moving.

Finally, the aching in Buffy's arms increased to a painful level, and with a frustrated sob she dropped the lamp onto the ground, where it crashed, breaking the lightbulb. Shards of glass struck Buffy's legs, leaving a few scratches and one bloody cut. She didnt seem to care though; she collapsed onto the ground, leaning up against the wall and tucking her legs to her chest, burying her head in her knees.

"Buffy" William whispered, a tone of sadness in his voice.

"Don't" she answered back. "Just leave." As much as she wanted to sound commanding and authoritative though, her voice sounded weak and young.

"Please, we need to talk, you and I." William pleaded from his position on the bed. When he was only answered with muffled sobs, he crawled out down and knelt down next to her. As he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder though, Buffy struck out.

"Leave me alone you monster!" she screeched, as her hand connected with his jaw. Stunned, William fell backwards, as Buffy released all of her pent up fury. Straddling him, she pummeled his face and chest, with no resistance from him whatsover. Still weak from the fever though, her strength quickly failed, and with a shuddering breath she nearly fell over. As William lifted a hand to steady her though, she scrambled backwards into the corner, looking at him in horror. She had bloodied his lip and his nose, and the skin around his eye was an angry shade of red.

"Oh my god, what have I done?" She breathed, shock written all over her face. She stared down at her hands, seeing that she had split some of her knuckles open. Only worsening her guilt, the tears now flowed freely.

"Its all right" he whispered, slowly moving closer to her. Buffy shook her head violently.

"No its not ok" she wrenched out. "Get out" she said again, her voice weakening with defeat. Getting to his feet rather unsteadily, William walked out as Buffy collapsed into heartwrenching sobs.

Once she was alone, Buffy's guilt overwhelmed her. All along, she knew she couldn't make herself believe that he had violated her, for no rape could be pleasurable like that was. Her body had responded to him willingly, but she had convinced herself that he was a monster, and therefore the bad guy. She had become the real monster though; she had hurt him, had even seriously considered killing him!

She had demonstrated the sort of behavior that even he had never shown her, the morning after he had saved her life. She hadn't let herself believe it, but she knew that it was true. The images she had tried to block from her mind, images of his compassion, his devotion. She had done so because to believe that would mean that this creature, no, this man, felt something for her. She had no idea how it was possible, but he did, and she had hurt him while he was defenseless. She had to find him.

William entered his bedchamber, his head hung once again in defeat. He walked up to the mirror, and gingerly wiped the blood away from his face with a cloth, and then sat down heavily on the bed. He could hardly fault her for what had happened. Over the past two days he had robbed her of her virginity, separated her from the people who cared for her, locked her in a room, eventually causing a sickness that almost took her life, and all because he selfishly wanted his freedom, at the expense of hers. He really was the monster that she had believed him to be. A sense of defeat and bitter sadness washed over him as he realized what had to be done.

Just as he stood though, his door opened, revealing a tearstained young woman.





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