Thirtieth. Just hold on
From disaster good fortune comes,
and in good fortune lurks disaster.
Chinese proverb
Hope, the patent medicine
For disease, disaster, sin.
Wallace Rice, Hope
Even the tiniest poodle is lionhearted,
ready to do anything to defend home,
master, and mistress.
Louis Sabin
Once away from Buffy, the dog calmed considerably, no longer snapping and struggling in Rupert’s hold. If he hadn’t witnessed any of this himself, he’d be hard pressed to believe it. While the dog was high-strung, and sometimes aggressively affectionate, never in the twelve years she’d been part of the family had she done anything remotely this dangerous. The dog had viciously attacked Buffy, biting and snarling at the girl and he had no idea how badly injured she might be.
Walking through the kitchen, Giles came to the realization that the dog couldn’t be left here, not as long as Buffy was here. And since the girl was now married to his nephew – well, the dog had to go. No doubt when Will was thinking a bit more clearly, he’d come to the same conclusion. For the moment, though, Kennedy was best left outside.
Giles opened the back door, quickly depositing Kennedy in the pen on the side of the house. She snapped at Clem, almost biting the other dog’s nose and Giles decided to rescue the basset hound. Pulling the long-eared dog unceremoniously forward by his collar, Giles stepped back, locking Kennedy alone inside the pen.
Satisfied she was secure, Giles led Clem back inside. After washing his hands, he grabbed the first aid kit from the hall closet, along with peroxide from the refrigerator and headed toward the second floor.
Since Lilah had dropped the bombshell about payment on Friday afternoon, Joyce had been steadily making her way through her supply of vodka.
She should have known, when she signed the Letter of Agreement, that something would change in the contract. A simple contract would have been ready before Buffy’s birthday and that damn binding letter wouldn’t have been necessary. Instead, the Finns had pulled a fast one on Joyce, almost as if they knew she was going against her daughter’s wishes by accepting their blood money.
What really aggravated Joyce, after nearly drinking her way through most of her waking hours, was that she still couldn’t reach the state of belligerence she’d been reaching for since she left Lilah’s office. Joyce had wanted to rant and rage at the Finns – for quite a few reasons – not the least of which was their son’s inability to stay away from her daughter.
This wasn’t how Buffy’s life was supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to be a mother before she was nineteen, before she had a chance to attend college and live her life.
Joyce sat in her dining room, a full glass of vodka near at hand, photo albums of pictures strewn about the table, slow tears dripping down her face.
Her baby girl was gone, missing and nearly five months pregnant. Joyce had no idea where she was, nor how to find her. Fear and despair crashed down, and Joyce was forced to realize part of Buffy’s reluctance to even contact her was because of her own actions. She’d driven off her own daughter, in practically the same manner she’d driven off her husband.
Joyce stared down at Buffy’s baby pictures and wept over the mess her life had become.
They were still in the hallway, in nearly the same positions he’d left them in, Buffy cuddled close in Will’s arms when he returned.
Rupert crouched down, placing the supplies on the floor beside him, his eyes on the two blondes. His words were soft, so as not to startle Buffy. “Is she all right?”
“Nothing’s broken an’ there’s no blood.” He paused, running his hand down her back. “Think her breathing is okay, but her heart is beating too fast.”
Nodding his understanding, Giles was more concerned with Buffy’s pregnancy. “Buffy? Have you got any sharp pains anywhere . . . or cramping?”
Will’s hands tightened fractionally on her and Buffy squeezed back, her voice not yet calmed. “No. I’m okay. . . the baby’s okay.”
“Are you certain?” Giles knew how precarious things could be, and she had just had the fright of a lifetime.”
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
She was still cradling her wrist and Giles wanted to take a better look at it, since it appeared Kennedy had managed to get a good grip on it. “Can I take a look at that?”
Buffy held her wrist out, wincing when Giles turned it over. “I think perhaps you should have that looked at before the night is over.”
“I’m fine. Really. I’ll just take some aspirin and go to bed.”
Giles shared a look with Will over her head, and the younger man, who’d been quiet for the last few minutes, finally spoke. “I’d feel better if we called the doc an’ got his opinion, okay, kitten?”
She sighed, then not too graciously gave in. “Fine. Call.”
Both men got to their feet, Will leaning down and sweeping Buffy up into his arms. “Might as well do this in the kitchen.” Thinking for a moment, he looked toward his uncle. “Where did you put the dog?”
“She’s outside in the pen.”
“Good. Not letting her back in tonight.”
“Actually, Will, I was thinking perhaps I should take the dog with me tonight when I leave.”
Sharing a look with Buffy, Will said, “You sure? She’d be all right outside.”
“I’m sure. You can’t leave her here with Buffy come the morning.”
“No, suppose not. Wouldn’t be safe.” Will nodded once, saying, “Thanks Rupes, ‘ppreciate it.”
Will dropped Buffy gently on the counter, reaching for the phone while Giles got a better look at her wrist. Murmuring softly under his breath, more to himself than Buffy, the older Englishman said, “Don’t think it’s broken, but it could be sore for a day or so. And this is a fine welcome to the family.”
Buffy didn’t say anything, but his words brought tears to her eyes.
The kitchen was quiet, the other occupants straining to listen to the quiet tones of Will’s conversation. Buffy was sitting silently while Giles cleaned off her wrist, both of them staring down at her wrist but focused clearly on Will’s voice.
He hung up the phone, turning to face the other two who looked up the moment he’d put the phone down. Buffy’s face was too pale for his liking and he took note of the strain around her mouth and eyes. Unfortunately, at the moment, he couldn’t ease her fears.
“Doc’s gonna call back.”
“That wasn’t him?”
“No, just the service, they’ll beep him and he’ll call us.”
Buffy’s slump was visible and Will could make out the flash of tears on her lashes and he decided he was putting her to bed. “C’mon, kitten, time for bed.”
“What?” The quaver in her voice set his body in motion.
“Been a busy weekend, an’ you should be in bed.” Scooping her up into his arms, Will nodded at Giles as he passed his uncle. “Hang about Rupert, I’ll be right down.”
Curling her arms around Will’s neck, Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder, nuzzling into him. “You feeling okay, sweets?”
A shiver worked its way through her body and Buffy sighed. “I’m tired Will.” He could feel tears seeping into his shirt. “And I really wanted to sleep in our bed.”
“Oh baby, I know.” He carried her smoothly up the stairs, his eyes fastened on hers, his feet steady, his hold sure. “We’ll go tomorrow and get a new bed, one that’s really ours. Hell, if you want, we’ll redecorate the whole bloody house.”
“New pillows?” She pulled back to look at him and at his nod, Buffy gave him a sad little smile. “Can we get lots of pillows?”
“Anything you want, kitten, anything at all.”
“Will, I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.” He pushed open the door to the guest room. Placing her gently down on the bed, Will brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Stay here, I’ll get your stuff.”
“Kay.”
Rupert walked about the downstairs rooms, tidying up as he roamed. Now that he knew about her presence, it wasn’t hard to pick out the evidence, Buffy’s touch was all over the house. Will’s papers were no longer strewn about, and there was the surprising presence of flowers in some of the rooms. Two weeks. Just two scant weeks Buffy had been in residence and already Giles could see the changes she’d wrought.
Tension abounded, but none of it was between the newlyweds. They presented a united front, no matter what confronted them. Will had responded quickly to Buffy’s distress, worry and anger clearly written on his features. He’d never witnessed this protective, caring side of Will and it boded well for their future. William didn’t appear angry or resentful of the pregnancy, which was something that could come into play, causing a rift between them. Instead, it appeared to have given them a sense of joined purpose, a reason for being a family.
Quite possibly their coming together was something inevitable, and though their ages currently presented something of a problem, in five years it wouldn’t matter at all. And Rupert found himself conceding to the idea they would last more than those five years. If the emotions, caring, empathy and love he saw were any indication of what the two were actually feeling, Giles was convinced they’d be celebrating many anniversaries.
He swiped at the dining room table, wiping off imaginary specks of dust, when his eyes were caught by the small picture on the wall. It was one of the few pictures of James and Anne on their wedding day, one of the few that existed. The look on both their faces was one he recognized, especially considering it was the same expression Will had been wearing most of the night.
Well, you two, I hope you’re prepared to watch over them, because they’re going to need all the guardian angels they can get.
Giles looked up when he heard Will’s feet on the stairs.
He dropped her nightgown on the bed, brushing kisses over her face. “Go on into bed, baby. I’ll be up in a bit.”
“Will?” Her voice stopped him at the door and he turned around to look at her.
“What’s up?”
“Tell Giles I said thank you.”
He leaned against the doorjamb, his eyes on her. “Is he gonna know why you’re thanking him?”
“Probably not. Just tell him I said thank you for not yelling at us.”
He shook his head, laughing a bit. “Sure thing.”
Before she could say anything else, Will was gone downstairs.
Giles was walking from the dining room into the kitchen when Will came thundering down the stairs.
“Buffy says thanks for not yelling at us.”
His uncle stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes surprised behind his round glasses. “Good lord. Did she really think I would’ve done that?”
Will shrugged. “I get the feeling she’s been yelled at a lot for things that weren’t always her fault or doing.”
“Have you asked her about the bruises?”
A shake of his head was the answer, followed by a deep sigh. “Haven’t talked about things like that. Don’t think she’s ready. Maybe when life’s settled down a bit, I’ll ask her if she wants to talk to someone about her parents. She’s gonna need more help than I can give her.”
The older man smiled sadly, then broached another subject that had been on his mind for a while, despite how uncomfortable the subject made him. “There’s no sign of any other kind of abuse is there?”
Will stared at him, a horrified look creeping into his eyes. “No. An’ there damn well better not be.”
Giles held up his hands. “Relax. It’s merely a question. You have to admit though, that the possibility exists, given the other evidence. She’s not skittish, is she?”
“I can’t believe you’re asking about our sex life, Rupes.” Will turned away, unwilling to delve more into this subject. Before Giles could explain himself further, embarrassing both of them, Will said, “She’s not skittish. We’re fine there.”
“Well that’s a relief.” The older man wiped his brow, grateful this wasn’t another obstacle the couple would have to overcome.
“So. . . . were you about to yell?”
Will’s question caught him by surprise and Rupert had to focus his thoughts for a moment. “No, I really wasn’t. My first reaction was to do just that, but seeing you together convinced me your intentions were honest and you weren’t taking advantage of her.”
His nephew turned around sharply, staring at him with a look of disbelief on his features. “You actually thought that. . . . . that I would take advantage of her? What kind of person do you think I am?”
Giles took off his glasses, peering myopically at his nephew. “Hold on Will, look at this dispassionately. You’re nearly twenty-nine and her teacher. She’s just eighteen, in a very vulnerable position. Do the math.”
Shaking his head, Will spluttered a bit, trying to come up with something to say, but words escaped him momentarily. Instead he just stared, his mind utterly blank.
“Is that how you see . . . Is that what you thought? Christ, Rupert, you know me better than that. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I was thinking how your relationship might look to your boss.”
The stark truth was, and Will knew this, what Rupert was saying was exactly – exactly – what someone who didn’t know him would think. And it was that kind of mind set they were going to face from people who discovered their story. There would always be a stigma attached to their relationship – it was something they were going to have to deal with and dispel.
A deep sigh broke from Will and he ran a hand through his hair, dislodging his curls. “Fucking hell, Rupert. . . .what kind. . . . shouldn’t have to deal with this shite from you.”
“Perhaps. The truth is, you’re always going to face something like this.” Rupert paused, his eyes filling with sympathy. His next words deflated whatever anger Will might be feeling, going a long way to healing the brief rift that had just developed between them. “You’ve got my support, both of you. Anything you need. Buffy’s going to need the support of everyone around her and so are you. I’d never forgive myself if I turned my back on either of you. Not to mention your mother would haunt me forever.”
A reluctant grin teased at Will’s mouth and he nodded. “I think she’s been after me. Mum’s been on m’mind from the first. Buffy kind of reminds me of her.”
For some reason that didn’t surprise Giles at all. “My guess is you’ve got her blessing then.”
“Maybe.”
A yawn cracked Giles’ face and he was very suddenly feeling his age and the time. “Right then, on that note, Will, I’m off. Get some dog food while I get Kennedy.”
“You sure about taking her?”
“Positive. Buffy shouldn’t have to worry about the dog on top of everything else.”
It took them just a few minutes to get everything together and then before he knew it, Giles and Kennedy were gone and he was on his way upstairs to Buffy.
Growling barks and yowling yips woke him from a sound, dreamless sleep, and at first Will had no idea where he was or what was going on, until he opened his bleary eyes to see Clem almost on the bed. His snout was inches away from Will’s face and he pushed the dog away, grumbling heavily. “C’mon you stupid dog, don’t wake Buffy up. She needs to sleep.”
But when Will got up, Buffy wasn’t in the bed beside him, and Clem was still barking urgently, the noise taking on an edge he hadn’t ever heard the normally placid basset hound use before. Throwing back the blankets, he stumbled to his feet, an itch forming on the back of his neck. He had no idea how long she’d been gone from the bed, nor did he know where she was or what she’d been doing. The fear he always carried, one he hadn’t dared give voice to, was that one day she’d disappear from his life. Just slipping out from his hands, never to be seen or heard from again.
Clem was standing in the doorway, his bark now almost a constant, high-pitched yip of urgency and Will didn’t even bother looking for a tee shirt, just followed the dog.
To his relief, Clem stopped outside the bathroom door, no longer barking, just panting heavily and scratching to be let in. “All right, buddy, let’s see what’s going on, okay?”
Will knocked once, calling out softly her name. “Buffy? You in there love?”
There was no answer and Will stared down at the dog for a minute, as he leaned against his leg. “Buffy?”
No sound. What the hell? Did she fall asleep in there an’ that’s why Clem’s all upset? “Sweetheart?”
He turned the knob and had to push open the door because something heavy was blocking it. Barely able to squeeze past Buffy’s slumped form, Will’s panic grew. “C’mon baby, wake up. Buffy? C’mon baby, just move a little bit so I can get through the door.”
She stirred at the sound of his voice, eyes opening just a little, lifting her head from the floor. He pushed the door just a little bit harder, trying not to hurt her, but now anxious to get inside to where she was. “Buffy, baby, you need to wake up and move, just a little bit.”
“Wi. . . Will?”
“That’s it sweetheart, just move your legs.” Buffy did as his voice commanded, unable to focus on anything else. She was groggy and barely with it, and he could hear the confusion in her voice.
“I’m cold Will.”
Oh fuck. . . . “Buffy. You need to move away from the door.”
Nothing but silence greeted him, and Will felt the fear roil about in his belly, threatening his breathing. His heart sounded loud in his ears and he couldn’t hear her moving over the sound of his own rasping breaths. Will pushed against the door, using minimal pressure in case she had actually shifted away from the door. The door gave a little bit, and Will was finally able to slip in.
Without looking around, he was down on his knees, checking her pulse and breathing before he moved her. “Buffy, sweets, you need to open your pretty eyes and look at me. C’mon honey, please look at me.”
He had nothing more than a passing knowledge of first aid, especially in this circumstance. Buffy’s eyes fluttered open and he smiled down at her. “Hey, you, are you okay?”
“Dunno.” She gave him a weak smile, and Will stared down at her, unable to think.
“Are you hurt? Did you fall?” Down on his knees beside her, Will looked around, grabbing a towel from the rack and sliding it under her head. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?”
“Will? I’m so cold.”
Her voice was thin, barely more than a whisper and Will grabbed a big beach towel, wrapping it around her. He looked around again and his eyes fell on the unflushed toilet, and he fought the fresh wave of panic.
Oh Jesus. Not now. Not this.
The toilet was awash with pink fluid, and telltale smears of red ringed the toilet seat.
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