After that, I did as she asked. I did not call on her family. I did not approach her at parties, nor did I look at her. I did not attend church. I never strayed from the road home. I stayed inside at night.

It was, indeed, quite a long time before I spoke to her again.

*21*

It was a beautiful day for a picnic, and everyone was in attendance. The food was bright and fresh, the sun was shining, and the games were light hearted. My heavy heart did not even feel too much occasion to be heavy as I sat on my blanket enjoying and basking in the sun's warmth. Summer could bring with it an array of change. It had been some while since I had felt such peace. I was surrounded by joy and laughter and as I sat with a pen and paper in my hand, I felt... content.

"Ah, Will." The familiar voice said from behind me. I smiled with an inward sigh, and turned my head.

James stood with Buffy's hand tucked neatly within his. She smiled brightly at me as though nothing had ever occurred between us. I suppose nothing ever really had.

"I don't suppose you have enough room on that blanket for an old friend and his fiancé?"

"More than enough." I answered. James smiled widely and helped Buffy in to a sitting position before joining us on the blanket.

"It looks like they're preparing for a game of croquet." James said, looking at the group a bit further down the hill. "Will you be playing?" He asked me. I looked over, and shrugged a bit.

"Perhaps a bit later. I'm rather content with my writing for now."

James continued to watch the game being set up. Buffy smiled and nudged him.

"Go." She said. "Enjoy yourself."

"You'll be all right here?"

"Of course."

"You'll keep her company, wont you?" James asked me. I looked down, and nodded.

"For a bit."

"Good man!" James said, and then was up and racing down the hill to join the game. There was silence on my blanket for a few beats.

"My mother and father send their regards." Buffy said to me. I turned to look at her - pleased to find that, for the first time while in her company - I was able to ignore the burning stab of pain in my chest and speak to her like I would anyone else.

"Oh? How nice. I trust summer finds your family well?"

She nodded.

"It does." A pause. "And your grandfather?"

I sighed.

"His condition has not improved, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yes, well..." I turned to watch the game, believing that to be the end of our conversation.

"I've not seen you at church." She said, surprising me. I turned back to her.

"Er..." I said. "No, I... I've taken to praying in my grandfather's chapel each morning." It was a lie. I was never really a praying man.

"You've been avoiding me." She said. I smiled.

"Well… yes, since you bring it up."

She laughed. I was glad of it.

"You have changed." She said.

"Well, considering that the last time we spoke I was a fool whose character and mental stability were being called in to question, I will take that as a compliment."

Her face turned a bright shade of red.

"Forgive me, that was rude-"

"No, forgive me. There's no defending my behavior."

It was odd. She was so near, and yet I was not crumbling to pieces inside.

"You are forgiven." She said.

"I will sleep better knowing that." I set my paper down with the pen atop it. "Now, if you'll excuse me." I stood, and was off to join James and the others.

*22*

No one spoke about the murders, not really. In London they would have, I knew this for certain. In the country, where every one knew every one else, when there was a murder, it was too devastating to speak of.

*23*

I opened my eyes and looked out toward the moonlight streaming in through my window. It was late, but something woke me up.

Something drew me up and out of my bed. Something drew me down the corridor. Down the steps. Outside.

I stepped out in to the night, and Buffy stood just off the walkway.

She looked up at me, eyes bright with tears.

"You're the only one who knows." She said.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"Buffy?" I said, taking a step down off of the stoop. She took a step up to meet me.

"I can't tell James." She said quietly, but there was a storm raging in her eyes. "I can't tell Mother or Father. I can't speak of what I do with anyone."

I took her hand and led her to a white wicker chair, the mate of which I sat down in after handing her in to hers.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

"William," She started, taking both of my hands in hers. "I know I shouldn't have come here, but…" She looked down. "The killings. They've been getting worse recently." She looked back up at me. "More violent. More frequent."

"Did you come here to ask me for my help?" I asked, taken aback.

She shook her head.

"No." She said. "No, I wouldn't put you in that kind of danger. I just…" She stopped and took a deep breath. "I just feel so alone."

"Alone?" I asked. "Surely, you aren't alone."

Her wide eyes seemed to plead with me as they searched my face for something.

"But I am." She responded. "Even in a room full of people, I am. They don't know about me. They can never know…"

She dropped her gaze as she broke in to soft tears.

It was then that I understood. I was the only one who knew of her fight against the vampires, and I had found out quite on accident. She couldn't tell anyone, they would worry at best, and think she was mad at worst. Everyone would try to stop her, try to pull her away from what she knew she had to do… except for me. I hadn't tried to stop her. I'd tried to help her. I'd tried to be a part of it.

"Alone in a room full of people." I repeated her words almost in a whisper. In that, at least, I could understand her completely. Even though I tried to be a part of the world, I'd always been somehow separate. I took a breath and held tightly to the hands that held mine. "Buffy…"

Two pools of green warmth locked on to my eyes.

"I can't offer you much that you'll accept," I started, wishing I could offer her my heart. "But I can tell you that you will never feel alone with me."

*24*

After that, we were friends. Though our friendship was mostly bound to darkness, as spending too much time together during the day would draw unwanted attention to us, we did see quite a bit of each other. No longer did we avoid going to the same parties or meeting each other's eyes. A strong friendship had somehow bloomed between us, and I was grateful because I had never made any friends of my own. They had all been friends of other friends or friends of my family. Or friends by association. Buffy was all mine, and life was pleasant. Picnics and walks, dancing and piano playing. It seemed like life could go on like that forever.

She taught me how to fight. She showed me the proper way to hold a stake, to wield a weapon. She taught me how to not just land blows, but to be able to take them. She taught me a new way of moving that would have seemed impossible to me months before.

In short, she taught me how to be useful to her.

*25*

Still, though, I did have my scrapes.

*26*

"That was bloody stupid of you." Buffy had said as she helped me along the dirt path to my grandfather's home. I winced a little as I applied pressure to the two bleeding puncture wounds in my neck with a fresh piece of white cloth.

"I'm going to have to get a new handkerchief now." I complained.

"Did you hear me?" She asked, helping me to lean against a tree so that she could lecture me freely. I sighed.

"Yes, bloody stupid." I intoned.

"William!" She chastised me. "When there are more than three, you can't step away from my side!"

"Well, they're all dead now, same as the rest."

"Do in no part to you." She turned from me then, and I could see her hand go to her forehead as her shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath. She looked back at me. "I can't be there to save you every time. I won't be there."

I looked her in the eyes.

"Perhaps I will not always need saving."

Her face changed in to an expression I couldn't read, but that I will never forget. There was an impossible distance in her eyes as though she looked out over centuries rather than just over my face.

When she spoke, it was with a gravity that I not yet heard from her.

"We all need saving."

*27*

I didn't see her again until a week later.

*28*

I stood inside Buffy's family's parlor - soaking wet from the rain outside as I had walked from my grandfather's home to hers. She came to the door, her hair down in a mass of curls down her back, and saw me. I was struck by how beautiful she was. With a concerned look on her face, she turned and slid the doors closed. She hurried to me and took my hands.

"Will. What has happened to you?"

"My grandfather's died, Buffy." I said quietly. Her hand went to her mouth. "I sent word to my mother and came to see you."

"Will-"

"I'll be heading back to London. There's nothing to keep me here."

Buffy said nothing at first, and then sat.

"I see." She said. "When will you leave?" I sat next to her and took her hands.

"Almost immediately. My mother's ill. She tried to keep me away, but there's no reason for it now."

She looked more heartbroken than I ever would have imagined, or even hoped, she could be.

"William-"

There was nothing more that I could do or say at that moment, such was the pain in my heart, other than kiss her. One moment of bliss before she pulled away and stood up.

"No, Will, you can't-" I stood and took her hands once again.

"Please, Buffy. I love you so much."

"I'm begging you-"

"No, I'm begging you!" I pulled her to me, and my lips were on hers again. More than that, her lips were upon mine. She was kissing me as I was kissing her. Her arms went about my neck and I knew, without doubt, that she loved me as deeply as I loved her. Her soft and warm mouth moved against mine in a hypnotic caress, and I could feel myself coming completely undone. For a few moments I was happier than I could have ever imagined being.

But the moment passed, and then she was standing and there was suddenly a painful amount of distance between us.

"Please... you can't marry James." I pleaded as I stood, trying to close the gap between us, but she only moved farther away. "How can you?"

"Responsibility." She responded without hesitation. "I have a responsibility. I gave James my word."

"You can not marry a man you do not love." I paused. "Marry me."

She let out a cry of frustration.

"William..." She said. "If you only knew how much I…" She paused, shaking her head. "If you only knew the pain you're causing me!" She collapsed to a chair nearest her, and I felt my heart contract. Tears streamed down her beautiful face - and I realized, mine as well. I bent to my knees in front of her.

"Let me end your pain." I said. "Marry me... and we can be together."

"But James—"

"You love me." I pleaded with her, and my voice broke a little.

"No." She said. "I don't."

"I know you felt it, Buffy. All those nights with me beside you. That night you came to me. Just now when you kissed me. You must love me."

"I care for you, William." She said almost helplessly. "But it's not love. I can't love you."

"You mean you won't let yourself."

She hardened her face.

"Even if that were true, it still doesn't change the fact that I don't."

"My beautiful Buffy... my love." I drew in a deep breath, taking her shoulders suddenly, and more forcefully in my hands than I meant to. She yelped in surprise. "I wont give you up. Not now. I'm the only one who understands you, who knows you. You can't push me away."

"William, let me go."

I didn't.

"Buffy, please… let yourself love me." I said desperately.

I leaned in to kiss her again, and did not realize how hard I had been squeezing her shoulders until she had shoved me violently away from her and my hands were tingling from the pressure I'd been exerting.

We stood a room apart from each other, me panting, her glaring at me with a look of stunned pain on her face.

"Go." She whispered.

"Buffy, I didn't-"

"Please… go."

"Buffy—"

"I'm marrying James." She sobbed. "Just go."

"I-"

She was out of the room before I could say anything more.

*29*

So, I did go. She did marry James. The next time I saw her, it was three months later at my home in London.

She'd come for my mother's wake.

I thanked her for coming, but otherwise said nothing more.

*30*

Some months later, I sat in the parlor of an old acquaintance as a party went on around me. Cecily Addams danced with some suitor or another, and I felt nothing. Not for her, not for me, not for that place.

"So, tell me..." The woman, whom I knew to be Abigail Ashley, who sat next to me quite unexpectedly, started. I turned to her. "Are you of a bookish nature, sir?"

I smiled politely. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that she was beautiful. She seemed to me like another of so many depictions of angels that I had seen in my life. Pleasantly round in the face and body, but well shaped. Golden hair that was a pure shade not too common in London. Perfect skin, almost seemed that she was sculpted out of alabaster stone, though she had a rose to her cheeks that spoke of health. Blue eyes, much the same color as my own. A bit darker, perhaps. Quite like my sister's eyes staring at me from behind a stranger's face.

"I have my moments, I suppose." Is how I answered her. She smiled brightly.

"Oh, I just love books." She replied.

"Do you?"

"Oh, yes." She laughed a little. "Mostly romance. Mostly about bright women who get everything they want in life."

I regarded her the way my sister had taught me.

"Tell me more." I said.

"I dare say we have more interesting things to discuss." She said coyly.

"Oh, dear. That doesn't sound good."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, in my experience, whenever a woman says she has something interesting discuss, it usually means I'm in trouble."

She laughed, and I was glad of it. Glad of it in the way that a person is always happy to entertain another, but nothing more. I had a new and peculiar skill of knowing whether or not I would take to a person within the first few moments of meeting them. I felt nothing for this woman, the same as I felt nothing for Cecily.

"No trouble." She said. "But I've heard of the adventures you write about."

"Ah, the vampires." I said, and then shook my head. "Just scribbling."

She nodded, curiosity in her eyes.

"I've heard the stories are very entertaining." She responded. "They say you're a talented writer."

I had to smile at the irony.

"Yes, well, I suppose I'm better at narratives than poetry at any rate."

She nodded again.

"Will you let me read some of your stories?"

I tilted my head. I had never been a pauper by any means, but my grandfather had left me quite a large sum of money in his will, as well as his estate in Surrey, so I often wondered how much of this new found interest people had in me was connected with that. It never much bothered me though.

What did it matter, really?

I'd marry Abigail, then.

"Of course." I answered her.

*31*

We celebrated our betrothal with a ball in Surrey at my grandfather's home. Most of her family lived in the country and she insisted upon it. For my part, I'd give her whatever she wanted if it'd placate her. I'd spoil her rotten just to not have to hold a real conversation with her.

I stood outside, soaking in the night air - a glass of wine in my hand. The dancing continued on without me inside... the whirring of dull colors. The meshing of indistinguishable voices. This was my life, and there was no escape.

"Not enjoying the music?"

I turned slightly to see Buffy standing just a few feet to my right... and was somehow not surprised to find her there. She looked much the same as she had the first time we had met, but I felt no curiosity toward her. I felt no ache in my heart for her. No urgency. No passion. In fact, had it not been for the warmth the wine afforded me, I may not have felt anything at all.

"It's perfectly delightful as far as mundane music goes." I responded. She approached me slowly.

"How have you been?" She asked.

"Oh, just wonderful." I responded, just the barest hint of sarcasm slipping in my voice. "Abigail and I have been surrounded by people all night. I just stepped out for a bit of air."

"Abigail is quite lovely."

"Oh, yes. Quite." I turned to look over the gardens.

"Do you love her?"

I had to give her credit for that question, for I was not expecting it. I smiled and looked down.

"I am very fond of her." I responded.

"Fond." She repeated.

"William." Abigail called from the French doors that led back in to the house. I looked to her and smiled at her in acknowledgment. "Excuse me." I said to Buffy and walked passed her to my fiancé. I took Abigail's arm, and turned briefly back to Buffy. "I'm so glad you could come, Mrs. Windsor. Enjoy the party."

*32*

I did not expect to hear from her again, but to my astonishment, I did. The next night at dinner, a letter came to me on a silver platter. I waited to get back to my room where I could be alone to read it.

My Dearest William,

I know that I have no place to ask this of you, but my heart will not let me rest.

Please, I beg of you, do not marry Miss Ashley. I do not wish her any ill will,

I only know that I cannot live if you are married to her. I would run away

with you this very night if you so wished. I would leave everything behind. My

family, my reputation, my obligations. I should have left with you that horrible

night in my parlor, but I was so frightened. Please, say that you still feel the same

for me.

Eternally yours,

Elizabeth Summers

I stared down at the page in my hand blankly, trying to feel something. My heart had been broken violently and mercilessly by this woman, and had for so long served me no other function but to beat. It had lost my father and mother in turn. It had lost my sister. It had wanted Buffy so badly, but she turned it down. She gave it up, gave it away.

Yet it had stayed with her.

The last time I remembered feeling anything was with her on that "horrible night" in that warm fire-lit room. I had taken my heart there that night to give it to her, and I had given it. Whether she wanted it or not… and since then, it had to have been with her, because it certainly wasn't with me. For all I knew, my heart was still bleeding on the floor in her parlor, waiting for her to put it back together.

But I was no longer waiting.

I couldn't risk her. I couldn't risk that pain.

Without another thought, I began writing her a letter in return.

Mrs. Windsor,

I regret that you believe your feelings for me to be other than friendly. I must inform you that my own feelings for you have, for some time, been just that. I am confident, that with time, this will be the case for you. I will tell no one of your letter, but please do not write me again. You are married, and I am soon to be so. I wish you all the joy life can bring you.

Signed,

William Pratt

I sent the letter, and was married to Abigail within a month's time.

*33*

Anna Abigail Pratt was born the 18th of February in 1882. She was a beautiful, rosy little thing. I found my heart again the moment she was in my arms and looking up at me with new and dark eyes that had yet to choose their color.

Blue. I was sure immediately that her eyes would be the same shade of blue of her grandmother's and of her aunt's. In that way, she would be giving them both back to me.

"Treat me well, Anna." I said to her as I cradled her in my arms. "I'm pathetic when it comes to the women I love."

*34*

"You were in love with her, weren't you?" Abigail asked me once in late May as we sat outside on the balcony overlooking the garden. I lay spread out on a blanket with Anna sprawled over my chest. I looked up at my pretty wife who sat in a white wicker chair staring down at me.

"Yes." I answered her, knowing full well whom she meant and having nothing but the truth to tell.

Abigail's face seemed to fall a bit.

"Did she love you?" She asked. I moved my gaze to the sleeping baby who lay so peacefully atop me.

"No." I answered. "Not really."

My wife said nothing for a moment.

"Do you love me, William?" She asked. I hadn't moved my eyes away from the slumbering child, and still didn't at Abigail's question. I could hear the pain in her voice as she asked me, and I pitied her… because even if I said yes, she would know it wasn't true.

"I care for you." I said, and then looked back at her – her eyes having turned liquid in just the few moments that I had been looking away. "Very deeply."

"But you shall never love me the way you loved her." She responded in a way that made it clear she was not asking a question. I said nothing in return, merely watched her sadly as her eyes closed and a tear slipped down her face. "William."

"Don't cry." I whispered, my own voice unsteady.

She was out of her chair and at my side on the blanket in the next moment, positioning her body next to mine, moving herself in to the crook of my arm. She stared up in to my face and I stared down in to hers.

"I love you." She said. I smiled for her, and lightly ran the hand of the arm that she rested on through her hair, my other hand holding Anna securely to my chest.

I was a lucky man, laying there with a beautiful family in my arms.

But I didn't love her. I couldn't love her.

"And you love Anna." She continued. "You're a good man and a good father and husband. I couldn't ask for more."

Couldn't she? Didn't everyone deserve the person they loved to love them in return?

*35*

The vampire disintegrated into dust before my eyes, and then Buffy stood in front of me. The hair that was usually pulled neatly up had been left down around her shoulders, and the collar of her dress was buttoned down, open to show her prominent collarbone.

"William!" She cried, catching me in her arms and falling with me to the ground.

"Buffy…" I managed to say, the blood dripping down my neck. The sticky warmth against my skin and the horrible metallic taste on my tongue was enough to make me feel sick even if I had not just spilled copious amounts of blood in to a hungry fanged mouth.

"What were you doing out here?" She asked me, her eyes tearing.

I weakly gestured with the stake in my hand to show her, before loosening my grip on it and letting it fall to the dirt beside me.

"You came to hunt?" She asked.

I somehow laughed a little.

"What can I say?" I asked. "I'm bloody stupid."

Really, it had been for Anna. To keep Anna safe. How could I sleep when there were monsters outside our door who would want nothing more than to hurt her?

She laughed a laugh that was more of a sob.

"You were too late to save me this time." I said, my heart breaking all over again. It was a pain that was so long forgotten, yet so familiar, swelling up in my laboring chest.

"No, you'll be all right." She said, shaking her head. This isn't—"

"Buffy, it made me drink its blood."

I could see it in the soft glow of the moon – the way her face paled almost instantly.

"N…No." She said, shaking her head again. "No, we can still—"

"Kill me." I demanded of her as firmly as I could manage.

"No, I can't." She responded, crying now. "I won't."

"Please, Buffy." I pleaded with her. "Don't let me become one of them."

She said nothing, only cried softly above me as she reached slowly for the stake I had dropped at my side.

"I love you." She said.

I let out a breath of air.

"No you don't." I responded. She let out a sob and I moved my fingers over her hand that held the fallen stake beside me. "Tell Abby… tell her I love her. She deserves to hear that. Make her believe it."

"I will."

"Promise me."

"I swear, I will."

I closed my eyes, my thoughts turning to my child. My beautiful little daughter who'd given me the world back with her chubby hands.

"Oh, God…" I cried on a sob that wracked my dying body. "Anna…"

Buffy's hand tightened around mine. I took as deep a breath as possible so I could try to say the last important words.

"Give her… a kiss… for…"

Breath failed me, and then all I knew was darkness.

*36*

All I'd ever know again was darkness.

*37*

It was a servant, and not Abigail, who opened the door for me.

"Oh, thank the Lord!" She young girl yelled. I watched her silently as she turned to yell in to the expanse of the house. "It's Mr. Pratt!" She called.

I could hear Abby's surprised voice from some unseen place.

"William?" She cried, and a few moments later she was running toward me, arms outstretched. "William!"

She threw herself against me; arms, hands, and lips upon me in a flurry of excitement. I merely stood still.

"Oh, you look… why are you so dirty? Is this blood? Oh, God, William… where have you been, darling? We thought you were dead. Are you all right? You're chilled to the bone. Come inside and get warm this instant!"

There was a crack as the servant's neck snapped in my hand, and a thud as she hit the floor.

Abigail stared at me with eyes widened in silent horror. I smiled at her.

"Home, sweet, home."

*38*

I stood looking out from the nursery window over the moonlit gardens as I held my sleeping baby in my arms.

Buffy was there, too, in the doorway. It was strange. I could feel her and smell her the moment she was even in the house.

"Well, it took you long enough, Love."

"I know." She responded.

"I assumed you hadn't relayed my message to the missus." I said. "So I relayed a different one.

A pause.

"I saw." She said, her voice was all steel and anger at that, but her next words were softer. "Please, William. Lay her back down."

At that, I did turn to her.

"What?" I asked, offended. "You think I would hurt my own child?"

"You hurt your own wife." She said, teeth clenched. I looked down at my daughter.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Buffy said nothing. I looked back up at her.

"So, what happened? Didn't have the stomach to stake me, then?"

She swallowed, despair seeping in to her eyes.

"I was attacked. Pulled away from you. When I made it back to where you'd been, your body was gone."

I laughed.

"Huh." I said. "Maybe it was just meant to be."

"Put her down," She started, ignoring my comment and stepping cautiously in to the room. "And settle this with me."

"Well…" I smiled. "No."

"William…"

"She's mine, Buffy." I said warningly.

"Not anymore."

"No, you're wrong." I said with a shake of my head. "I love her and I won't let you take her from me."

Her jaw tensed.

"You can't love."

I was surprised to feel a stabbing pain in my dead heart at her words. I moved my head to one side and looked her over.

"I still love you." I said. Her face changed at that, from tense and rigid to soft and agonized.

"You can't love." She repeated, eyes glassing over with tears. The words stabbed just as painfully the second time.

I turned to Anna's cradle and gently lay her down, running my finger over her soft, warm cheek. It left a streak of her mother's dark red blood across her skin, marring the pale and milky perfection. I turned back to Buffy.

"So, you're here to kill me, then?"

She pulled a stake out from within a hidden pocket of her skirts. My stake.

"It's what you wanted." She answered. "Remember?"

I made a large shrug, wrapping my arms tightly around myself as I stalked slowly closer to the slayer.

"I remember wanting a lot of things, Pet." I said, looking her up and down.

She didn't step back, but she did shiver. I could feel the waves of sadness and regret rolling off from her as though feelings and emotion had weight and form.

"It's strange, really." I started as I began to circle her. "I don't feel much different."

"You are." She said to me, not even bothering to turn her head as I moved around her. I stopped in front of her with a tilt to my head and a leer to my face. She really was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and now that my senses were sharpened past recognition of what they had once been, her beauty had taken on a life of its own.

I did still love her. More than I'd loved Cecily, more than I could ever have loved Abigail. I never stopped loving her. I didn't think it was possible that I ever would.

"Well, yes. I am." I said, reaching suddenly for her and pulling her to me in a kiss. I didn't give her a chance to struggle, and neither did I care if she did. I devoured her mouth with mine, tasting her, relishing in the feel of her against me. This is what I had been missing. My life had seemed so full with Abby and Anna… but it had been devoid of this woman who owned me without ever having tried to. It was devoid of passion and hunger. I'd never wanted anything more than I wanted Buffy just then.

I loved her so much.

She pulled away from my mouth, but kept her forehead up against my own, her eyes closed and her hands clasping at the back of my head. I could see two wet paths running down her cheeks and I didn't enjoy the pain I was causing her.

"William." She whispered.

I brought my hands up to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but it only left blood in their place.

She looked beautiful like that, too.

"Don't cry." I said, and I meant it. I didn't understand how I could kill my wife and servant so viciously and then feel such pain at just the thought of hurting Buffy.

Then she kissed me.

The slayer's small hands tangled through my hair as she pushed me back, back, back until I felt the coolness of the glass of the window through the fabric of my shirt. Her mouth was insistent and longing, and I let her in willingly as my hands roamed over her, taking in the curves and shape of her body. William never would have been so bold with her. And so then, I couldn't have really been William anymore.

But I suppose I had already known that.

"Buffy, I love you!" I somehow managed to say between kisses. My mouth roamed to her exposed neck and I kissed her there as well, with no thought of tasting her blood.

The demon surfaced in my face anyway.

There was a sharp blow to my head, and then another quite lower which also hurt quite a bit more. I fell to my knees, looking up at Buffy who already held my daughter in her arms.

It occurred to me that I had been backed up against this window on purpose – just so she could get to the girl.

I growled; a strange and horrible noise even to my own ears.

I peered behind the woman standing above me and saw my stake laying abandoned on the floor near the door. I laughed, and looked up at her face.

"You can't do it." I said. "You can't kill me. You love me too much."

An elbow to my face sent me flying to the ground.

I was too dazed to move.

"Give me time." I heard her say as she walked away with my daughter, leaving me behind, alone and in the dark.

*39*

I sometimes wonder if things could have been different somehow. Perhaps if I hadn't had to go to the country with my sister, if we had stayed in London, none of what occurred could have taken place. Maybe if Buffy had not been the slayer, if I'd never met her… maybe I'd still be a whole man.

Maybe I'd still be a man.

But things are not different. They are just this way, and I'll go being just what I am until Buffy kills me or I somehow manage to get her and my daughter back. I love them both with every part of what I am, even if the bits are pale and dead.

Time. Buffy needs time.

A lot can change with time, with so little of it even… and who knows what the future may bring?

The End