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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm trying soo hard to get these chapters out as quick as I can. Hopefully you're all still with me. I'd like to thank each one of the 23 people *hugs* who reviewed the last chapter. You are the best. Nia
[A/N: You know, sometimes the characters sort of take over a story and despite the writer’s intentions about plot and timing and, well, everything, the characters dictate what happens. This is sort of what’s going on here. The title is from a song by Irish artist Frances Black (who is part of the Black Family and the younger sister of the more famous Mary – they pretty much sing traditional Irish music) and although the song is more about a love that’s dying, I thought the song title fit this chapter best. Its from her album of the same name and quotes as attributed and disclaimers in full force and effect.]


Eleventh. Talk to me while I’m listening

Do not seek to bring things to pass in accordance with your wishes,
but wish for them as they are, and you will find them.
Epictetus, Enchiridion, VIII

It is hard to contend against one’s heart’s desire;
for whatever it wishes to have it buys at the cost of soul.
Heraclitus, quoted in Hippocrates, On The Universe, aph. 105

But there’s nothing half so sweet in life
As love’s young dream.
Thomas Moore, Love’s Young Dream

And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen,
The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
Thomas Moore, Ill Omens




It took her a long time to realize that she wasn’t alone, that what she’d been praying for was real; that it wasn’t her imagination conjuring up someone to hold her. It took her even longer to realize that the arms holding her belonged to Will Stevenson.

When the tears stopped, Buffy found herself curled up in the arms of her English teacher, her head on his shoulder tucked under his chin, one hand curled on his opposite shoulder, the other between them.

The sur-reality of the situation struck her as being close to funny and Buffy let loose a watery giggle. Will looked down at her, and while he was happy the tears had stopped, there was a slightly hysterical note to the laugh that he didn’t like.

“You okay, sunshine?” His voice was a soft rumble against her ear and she drew in a shaky breath, closing her swollen eyes.

“Sorta. I think.” She moved a little, letting her trapped arm circle around his waist.

His arms were around her and she sighed again. “Buffy, its okay if you aren’t.” His right hand settled on her shoulder and Buffy realized they were sitting on the floor of the kitchen.

“She wants me to agree to. . . to release Riley from his parental rights – wants to offer me money for it.” She picked her head up away from his chest as her agitation grew, then she ran out of steam and dropped her head back down onto his chest.

What the bloody hell? Okay, so it wasn’t an ideal situation, but signing away all parental rights? Giving the girl money so that she would basically go away and there would be no responsibilities for Riley? No support from his family? What kind of people were those Finns? What kind of woman wanted no part of her grandchild?

He didn’t know what to say. There weren’t really any words he could use to convey the anger and disappointment he felt on her behalf. What could he say? Will heard her hiccuped breathing and he realized he was completely and totally at a loss. He had no clue what to do for her other than just hold her and let her cry.

So he did.


**********************************************************************************

They were quiet for a very long time, Buffy’s tears long dried up. The occasional sound of a car passing or a dog barking seemed so far away, nothing penetrating the bubble they occupied.

Buffy had to pee and her belly was cramping from hunger. She had no idea how long they’d been sitting on the floor of her mother’s kitchen. She was trying to figure out how to tell him she was really hungry when her belly growled loudly.

A giggle escaped her and he shifted a bit. Buffy got to her feet, looked at him sitting there and shyly asked him, “have you eaten dinner?”

“No. Was about to get take out but I called here first.” He rubbed a hand over his face, hiding his expression from her. It was just hitting him now how incredibly stupid his actions had been. He was alone with one of his students, in her home. The fact that she was pregnant was secondary. He could be in a world of trouble if anyone were to find out. “I should go. You’re all right, yeah?”

“Um.” Buffy looked away from him, about to speak when the need to relieve herself became imperative. Running for the bathroom, she called out over her shoulder, “don’t leave! Please?!”

He couldn’t answer her. The panic on her face was pretty clear and his worry and concern for her warred with his need to protect himself. Bit late for worrying ‘bout that now. Damage is already done. Can’t get worse than what it already is. Might was well . . .

Buffy was back, chattering at him in her nervousness. “My mom left lots of food, she always does. There’s some lasagna that she made last night. Please stay?”

That last had slipped out in a more desperate tone than she wanted to use with him. She needed the company and if she were honest about it, she wanted him to stay, wanted to be near him.

Will got to his feet, all set to tell her no, he couldn’t stay; had his mouth open and was more surprised than she was when he said, “sounds great. Is there anything you want me to do?”

“Um no. Everything just has to go in the oven to get hot. Mom even left me bread.” She leaned into the refrigerator which Will missed and brought out a fairly large tray of lasagna. “Have you ever had this? Do English people eat the same foods we do?”

Opening the oven for her he said, “almost. Different brands, different names for similar things, but its pretty close.”

“Do you miss England?” Go Buffy, get him talking and keep him occupied, he won’t worry about leaving.

“Sometimes. Don’t miss the weather.” He moved out of her way, sitting at the opposite side of the counter, his eyes following her movements as she put together a salad.

“Is it always cold and rainy like the movies show?” She moved about the kitchen fairly competently, though he could sense her anxiety.

“No.” He laughed and she liked the sound of that. “Not always, but its nothing like Southern California.” He was beginning to guess there was more to this conversation, more she wanted to bring up anyway, so he waited her out.

“When did you come here?” Buffy was chopping carrots now, occasionally popping one into her mouth.

“Mum died when I was in my second year of university. And well, I was living at the school. Giles was here already so I packed up everything she owned and shipped it to him for safekeeping.” He paused, grabbed a carrot stick for himself then munched on it for a while.

“How old were you?” Finished with the carrots, Buffy moved onto cucumbers.

“Seventeen, almost eighteen. Did my leaving certs at sixteen and went straight to university.” He gestured with the remains of the carrot stick.

Oh. Just great Buffy. First Xander and his mother and now Mr. Stevenson and his. Maybe you should not talk to guys at all. The false good mood she’d tried to force herself into started to shatter and Buffy wiped away a few tears. Thing was, she really wasn’t sure who she was really crying for. “I’m sorry.”

Will caught her trying to hide her tears and reaching for her hand, said, “thanks pet. But its okay. Mum. . . she wasn’t really happy after m’father died. I knew that.” And just like that the tears were back. Good job there mate. Not supposed to make the chit cry again.

“Hey. Shhhhhsshhh. Stop that.” Will was on his feet and around the island before Buffy could put down the potato peeler and cucumber. Taking them away from her, Will pulled her into his arms for the third time that day. Bloke could get used to this.

She settled into his arms, letting him hold her again. Okay. Buffy, this is just. . . stop crying. “I’m sorry. I never cry like this. This is so not me.”

“Probably right. Hormones are doing a number on you, that’s all. No worries.” Will kissed the top of her head, then let her go. “Tell you what. Let me finish this and you get the table ready.”

She wiped her eyes, moving away from him, then off into the dining room to get it ready. “Okay.”


**********************************************************************************

She’d put candles on the table.

Will wanted so badly for this to be what she sort of innocently hoped it was, but he couldn’t allow either of them the luxury. Buffy was only seventeen and one of his students. He could be fired just on the hint of impropriety alone. He’d never be able to work in this country again. On the other hand, he didn’t have it in him to be the cause of any more pain for her. Couldn’t tell her it was wrong.

Because most of him wanted it. He didn’t know if this was just an infatuation for her, something good she could focus on while the rest of her life fell apart. For him, it wasn’t infatuation. He’d been struck by her the moment she’d walked into his class. But his mind hadn’t let it be anything more than admiration for her looks, her wit and her ability to breeze her way through, until that night.

That night had changed everything. Some connection between them had sparked to life and flared brighter and burned stronger every single time he saw her. Was it just because she was so lost and alone and he saw in her what his mother had gone through? And though he couldn’t have saved his mother he could save her?

William didn’t know. Almost didn’t want to delve deeper into his reasons – into what it was that drew him to her.

William didn’t care anymore about why. He could worry about why later. Right now he was going to sit down and eat dinner with the girl he was beginning to suspect he loved.

And he did just that.

They talked about everything, his mum, her family, poets, people they knew and liked, and at no point did Will think he was talking to a girl who was ten years younger.


**********************************************************************************

She was setting the table, putting down a tablecloth and getting the silverware and plates out, when she spied the candles. On a partial whim, Buffy put them on the table, then lit them. It was silly, she knew that, but a big part of her wanted to pretend this was real. That she was his and they were together.

He’d stopped in the doorway, the hot pan of lasagna in his hands while his eyes took in the table setting and her. She’d been afraid he was going to tell her not to do this, that it was wrong, but he hadn’t said anything. He’d just kind of shook himself and walked to the table.

Buffy watched him while they talked over dinner, studying the way he moved, the sparkle in his eyes when he got on a subject he was passionate about, or the glitter of sadness when he talked about his mother. Saw too, the sympathy when she talked about her parents, about how her father just abandoned them – and his – he had this tilt to his head when he was just watching her that was just. . . god it was adorable and sexy and Buffy felt like she was flying because his attention was focused solely on her.

She wondered what he was thinking when he did that, because it drove her to distraction, that and. . . his eyes. They changed blues, going from intense and dark to clear and bright depending on his moods.

It was crazy, him being in her house, having dinner with her, but she didn’t care. This was worth all the rest of the craziness that was going on, because this felt good.

She wanted this to be real. Wanted it in a way she’d never wanted anything else. Does he know? Can he tell that its more than a crush? Does he get that?


**********************************************************************************

Will wasn’t sure what they were talking about anymore, he was content just to watch her, to listen to the soft sound of her voice, the flit of her tiny hands as she emphasized some point she was making; the glow of the candlelight on her warm golden skin.

Her eyes sparkled; glittering like emeralds surrounded by wisps of black lashes; they called to him, drawing him in, letting him drown in their depths.

His hands itched to touch her, so instead he fidgeted, moving from one object to the next on the table. Time had ceased passing, crawling to a stop while he catalogued every single nuance of hers, studying her intently.

They’d been talking forever when a yawn escaped her and Will knew it was his cue to leave, because he suddenly knew if he didn’t go soon, he wasn’t going to until morning.

“C’mon. Let’s clean up and then you can lock up after I go.”

Buffy’s face fell and Will cursed his insensitivity. He didn’t want her sad. . . it was much better when she smiled. Scrambling his brain for a way to lighten the mood again, Will quipped, “”m old, sunshine, need m’beauty sleep.”

“Sheyah. Coz you aren’t already gorgeous.” Buffy muttered under her breath as she got to her feet, but there was a smile on her face and it warmed his heart.

“And how d’you think I got this way?” He laughed when she tossed a balled up napkin at him.

They made short work of the clean-up, working together like they’d been doing it for years, and when the last of the dishes was dried and put away, Buffy was yawning widely.

“Sorry. Buffy turns into a pumpkin earlier these days.” They were standing next to each other, at the kitchen counter, Buffy leaning heavily onto it.

“Its all right, kitten. I understand.” Will watched her, part of him very reluctant to leave her alone. “You going to be okay by yourself?”

“Yeah. There’s an alarm I have to set and I’ve got mom’s numbers programmed into the phone.” Buffy wouldn’t look up at him, afraid he would see the wish in her eyes. She didn’t want him to leave.

“‘s’not what I meant.” His voice dropped, sending shivers down her back. He’d moved closer and Buffy swore she could feel his breath on her neck.

“I know.” She whispered softly. “I’ll be okay, I guess.” She stole a glance up at him and froze under the intensity of his gaze.

He wrote something down a napkin, handing it to her. “This is my cell number. I’ll leave it on. If you need me. . . .” His voice drifted off, his eyes focusing on her. God he wanted to kiss her.

“Thanks Will. For everything. For tonight.” Buffy stood straight, hoping he couldn’t see the need for him in her eyes.

“Buffy.” It was just her name but the way he said it made it almost a prayer.

She looked up at him then, her heart in her eyes and he was lost. His hand reached out, tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear and then his thumb was brushing across her soft cheek, ghosting over her lips.

Buffy couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest it felt like thunder. Every hair on her body stood up, every nerve sang at his touch. His eyes were . . . She wanted his kiss. . . wanted him to never stop touching her.

His hand fell away from her face and she wanted to weep at the loss of contact. She must have made some noise because he was rumbling something low in his chest but Buffy didn’t catch the words because he’d stepped closer, his chest nearly touching her and she looked up at him with a pout and Will groaned inwardly and caved. His lips grazed hers and then she was in his arms, his tongue mating with hers, his hands holding her close, his erection hard and pulsing between them.

They kissed forever and for mere seconds. Her arms curled around his head, his around her hips. He stepped closer, forcing her back against the counter, his leg between hers. Will lifted her up, his mouth never leaving hers, setting her on the counter, stepping between her legs. Alarm bells were going off in his brain but Will refused to listen. He didn’t want to stop. This was so bloody. . . the bells were going off, chiming inside his head, and he realized as he came up for air that it wasn’t bells – the phone was ringing.

“Buffy, kitten, the phone. . . . “ Her passion glazed eyes finally focused when her mother’s voice sounded on the answering machine.

“Oh.”

“Buffy. Look at me.” Will couldn’t. He wasn’t going to hurt her by saying this was a mistake, but he couldn’t let it go unremarked either. She surprised him though, beating him to the punch.

“Will? I don’t want to ruin your life too. You should go.” Pausing for a second, she looked away, unable to let him see the pain. “Before we end up doing something stupid.”

Ruin his life? What the hell had been done to this girl? What had everyone been saying to her to make her think that she could ruin anyone’s life? He lifted her chin, saying, “wouldn’t ruin my life, kitten. Not at all.” He kissed her forehead as he walked to the door, saying, “lock up.”

And then he was gone.

Buffy stared at the door for long minutes, completely uncertain about what had just happened. Coming back to herself with a start, Buffy locked up the house and drifted up the stairs to her bed, thoughts of him swirling around inside her head.


**********************************************************************************

Her scent was all over him, tears mixed with vanilla, drowning him in its intensity. Will stood outside her house, watching as the lights slowly went out, waiting until the last one – no doubt her bedroom, stayed on for long minutes. Leaning against his car, he deliberately pushed aside any thought of consequences or fall-out. He didn’t want to think about anything but her. The feel of her, the smell of her. . . everything about her. Will wanted to pretend for just a little bit longer that what they were doing wasn’t wrong. . . because it felt so damned right.

The light went out and still he didn’t leave, his eyes staring up at her window, his mind blank.



Okay, I'm suffering from performance anxiety. Let me know if this one is any good. Coz, personally, I loved this chapter, which means its probably utter drek. So please, let me know.





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