William eyed her, “Aren’t we spending the day together?”
“Are we? Had we said?”
“I believe I told you last night I planned to make love to you all day.”
She smiled. “As nice as that sounds—“
He groaned, “Don’t tell me you’re blowing me off.”
“I do have to get back to the house at some point today, William.”
“At some point. That means anytime from now until dark. So, technically, you can still
spend the day with me.” He reached across the table and took a hand in his, kissing
the back of it. “And then I can go over and spend the night with you.”
“Will, you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“The ghosts? I blew them off last night – not that I regret it – but I have to get back to
them.”
“And they’ll take opposition to your having an overnight guest?”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
William smiled. “No, I don’t.” And I’m not about to, Buffy love.
“I was thinking that I wanted to shop today.”
William recoiled, wrinkling his nose. “Shop?”
She laughed, “See? I knew you wouldn’t go for that.”
“What kind of shopping?”
“For the house. I wanted to poke around and get some ideas for how I might want to
approach those empty rooms.”
“Oh, well, I can go with you.”
She stared at him. “You actually want to do that?”
“Buffy, I’m up to anything that involves you staying here.”
Buffy sighed and stood, grabbing her plate and bringing it to the sink. “William, let’s
not start with this now.”
“What do you mean let’s not start with this now?” William demanded, his temper
flaring. Her leaving was a sore spot for him, and not just because of Dru and her cryptic foreshadowing, but because he was in love with her and he’d be damned if she left him now.
She turned to him after rinsing the plate. “Will, don’t ruin the day, and the night we
just had—“
“I’m not bloody ruining anything! You’re the one avoiding the bloody topic. Buffy, did
what we share mean nothing to you last night?”
“It did mean something to me. Of course it did.”
“And now you’re up and ready to go.”
“I’m not going anywhere! I’m going shopping!”
He took a deep breath, and shut his eyes. Running a hand through his hair, he held
out a hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just...I thought after last night...Just forget it.”
She stood there, stiffly looking at him as if she didn’t know what to do or say.
Reaching out, William grabbed her and pulled her against him, burying his face in her
hair. “I’m sorry, luv. Forgive me?”
“Will, I....” she broke off and hugged him back. “Yes.”
It was the words not spoken that had William reeling. What was she going to say?
She could be so in her head at times, a feature he’d thought she’d been growing out
of, especially after the night before, but now it seemed that feature was back. He’d let
it go for now. Let it go and hope that when the time was right, she’d share with him.
Given some space, love and enough time, she’d realize she was meant to be with
him, she’d stay, and she’d tell him.
The saying about putting your eggs all in one basket kept coming back to him and he
wasn’t sure why.
He couldn’t help himself from dragging her into the bookstore when they were out
and about, and when she caught wind of what he planned to purchase, she turned
flaming red and tried to drag him out.
“Nope,” he told her. “You made a request last night to get that book, and we’re
getting it.”
“Will, we don’t actually have to get it.”
“I want to. I remember how hot it made you last time to look at it. I want to see you
hot again when we try those positions.”
She hid her face in his shoulder while he picked the Sex book out, and then
went outside when he went to pay for it.
So, he thought, My shy blushing virgin is back.
But, after lunch, and after visiting a few furniture shops, while they were gathering
paint samples, Buffy leaned over and whispered. “I want you,” and walked away.
That was all William needed and tossing the samples he’d grabbed in his bag, he
grabbed Buffy’s arm and hauled her out of there.
As soon as the door to his house was shut, they were tearing at each other’s clothes.
Buffy had one singular thought in her mind and that was ‘want, take, have.’
She’d felt some of her reservations come back that morning and through the day, felt
that perhaps she was acting too much like a wanton whore, and had tried to keep the
voices at bay that told her as such. Somehow, being alone with William and being
sexual made her feel like less of one, but being out in public and knowing what she’d
done and wanted to do, made her delicate sensibilities come back with a vengeance.
In the paint shop when they’d been grabbing samples, Buffy felt this wave of peace wash over her, this rush of emotion so deep that it shook her to the core. She’d never felt it before and not toward another human being like that. She felt the words on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t force them to come. So, instead, she said the next best thing.
She felt in him the urgency for her to say she’d stay. What it would mean however, gave her pause. He had more power over her than he realized and it was a fact that didn’t settle well with her. Losing control, losing power, was something that Buffy felt she couldn’t let go of easily, or at all really.
What if she stayed and it didn’t work out with them? Then she’d be saddled in another country and feeling, she was sure, bereft. He’d come to mean so much to her, he made her feel things – and not just sexually – that she’d never felt before. It sounded clichéd, she was sure, but it frightened her so much. She wasn’t someone that had a lot of experience in relationships, she was someone that seemed to repel the opposite sex, and couldn’t even keep friends of the same sex. How could she hope that someone as wonderful as William could really want her for the long haul? If was best for her to leave first, wasn’t it? If she could maintain that semblance of control, then maybe she could at least have her pride when this was all over.
She recalled the cold words of her mother at Dru’s funeral and all her friends had attended to say goodbye. Dru knew everyone, it seemed, and kept in touch with them all. Buffy had not a single friend or shoulder to cry on. She’d had to say goodbye to her beloved sister alone, and her mother had told her, while they stood before the casket that was being lowered into the ground, “Such a shame, Buffy. It seems no one can bear to stay with you, can they?”
Her words were cruel, she knew, but it stuck with her, despite how many times she’d tried to tell herself that it wasn’t true.
“Buffy, Buffy, why are you crying?” William asked her, pulling back and grabbing her shoulders, making her look at him.
“What?”
“Sweetheart, you’re crying,” he said and wiped a tear away, showing her.
She shook her head and lunged at him, throwing her arms around him. “I’m fine, William,” she told him, toppling him onto the floor.
“Buffy, if you’re upset then please talk to me,” he told her, trying to stop her.
“I’m not. I’m just . . . happy,” she said and smiled before peppering a trail of kisses down to Spike and taking him in her mouth.
This, having sex with William, made her feel powerful, made her feel in control, made her feel like less of a freak. She enjoyed the responses William had to her ministrations, and she basked in how he made her feel right back. She could suspend reality and shove out the idea that she was nothing but a loveless freak.
And when he rolled her over onto her back and entered her with a swift thrust, and said, halfway between a plea and demand, “Stay with me,” Buffy rolled, so that she was on top and kissed him hard. She rode him at a gallop, effectively halting that request from passing through his lips again.