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“Buffy, now I want you to calm down and listen to me,” William began.

“I’m calm and I’m listening. Don’t patronize me, William.”

She looked anything but calm, however, as she was shaking in anger – or hurt? – before him, but she was most definitely listening.

“Buffy, why don’t we sit down—“

“I don’t want to sit. I want to stand. If you want to sit, you can sit.”

“I can stand.”

“Dru has visited you?”

“Yes, she visited me shortly after she passed.”

Buffy threw her arms up, “I knew it! There was something going on with you two. What is this? Why didn’t you just tell me when I asked if there had been—“

“Because there was never anything going on with us! Buffy, why do you have such a hard time believing that? I was never with Dru and I never wanted to be.”

“Then why is she visiting you?”

“Because she couldn’t come to you -- you blocked her out.”

“Do you see them too, or just her?”

“Just her.”

“How convenient,” she said sarcastically, crossing her arms about her chest. “What do I have to do with it? What do you mean about me being all right?”

“Heard everything, did you,” William muttered rhetorically, running a hand through his already dishevelled locks.

“Good thing I did, too. I hate secrets being kept from me.”

“Buffy...could we sit, please? Just sit with me.”

“Oh, this should be good,” she snapped. “Just tell me, William.”

“She wanted me to look after you because she saw bad things happening to you if you....” he broke off, losing his momentum.

“If I...?”

“If you didn’t stay here. She saw.... she saw your death Buffy.”

“My death? She saw my death?” Looking up, she shouted, “Oh, you’re really good at the melodrama aren’t you, Dru!”

“She was worried about you.”

“And so she had you look after me. How perfect.”

“I know what you’re thinking—“

“How was I going to die, hmmm? I have no friends, remember. No one wants to stick around or come close to the freak of nature that I am—“

“Don’t say shit like that!”

“So, how was I going to die? Car accident? Murdered by an intruder? A rapist?”

He winced at each of those scenarios. The image of Buffy’s lifeless body not settling well with him. “No,” he replied quietly, not wanting to tell her this part either. This was sure to come as a tremendous blow, and not help the fact that she already felt screwed up. But how could he lie, too? He’d kept this from her for long enough, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass. If they were going to make a go of it, then he needed to start coming clean now.

“Then, how—“ she broke off, and then paled. His girl was a smart cookie; he should have known it wouldn’t take her long to piece it together. For all of her naïveté, Buffy was quite jaded. She saw the world as her enemy, and as such, saw the evils of it much more keenly than the average person. A throwback, he was sure, to her parents who made her believe she was not worth anything, and that the world was out to get her because of that. It also chilled him to think she figured it out that quickly. Did that mean it’d been somewhere in her mind? That she’d thought of that violent act against herself?

“Oh.”

“Buffy, she just asked me to watch out for you. She...she was playing matchmaker, but I hadn’t figured that out until I started to fall for you.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You weren’t falling for me. You only did all this because if I decided to off myself, you didn’t want my blood on your hands.”

“After everything we’ve shared—“

“Oh don’t even give me that crap. It would never have happened had you not seen me as some kind of charity case. Your darling best friend, my sister asked you to save me. Of course you felt obligated to do it. Anyone would have! Affection wasn’t your driving force, guilt was.” She shook her head. “I should have...Just go, William. You can rest assured offing myself isn’t on the horizon anytime soon. There will be no blood on your hands.” She started to walk away from him, and William lunged, grabbing her and bringing her to him.

“That’s not what you are to me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Not at all. You have never been a charity case to me, Buffy Summers. From the first moment I met you, you meant something to me—“

”That’s garbage—“

“It’s not. You think it is because you don’t want to believe that anyone could care for you and want you. I was drawn to you from the start, Buffy, and not because of what your sister told me—“

“So, you didn’t care to save my life then?”

He glared at her, “Don’t you twist my words like that. You’re deliberately doing that to get me to admit something – what is it? Just tell me so we don’t have to play any more games here, all right? I’m telling you what I feel Buffy, what I feel for you—“

“There’s no such things as feelings.”

“Yes, there is and you damn well know it!” Frustrated, and not sure how else to get it through her thick skull that he cared for her, the person and not the tragedy that could have befallen her, he kissed her. It was the only time she “heard” him, the only time she responded in what he could convince himself was a thoroughly loving manner. She believed him then – didn’t she?

She was kissing him back now, hungrily, and somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew this wasn’t the way to deal with it, but how could he stop? She might decide to cut him loose completely and then what? He’d lose her, and he had no doubt that she could cut him off completely and not look back. Especially now that she felt hurt and betrayed, and oh Christ, what was he doing?

“Buffy, wait—“ he began, trying to push at her.

“No, I don’t want to,” she breathed, and kissed him once more, sticking her hand in his pants and stroking him to life.

“Fuck.... Buffy, no...”

“Yes,” she said forcefully, and his body reacted despite his warring conscience.

“Buffy, I just want to love—“

She cut him off with a kiss, pushing him back against the wall, and stroking him still. Without warning, she dropped to her knees and yanked down his boxers, engulfing him in her hot mouth.

His fingers tangled in her hair and he wasn’t sure anymore if he meant to stop her or encourage her. Before he could find the words to tell her something, anything, she was pulling him by the hand to the table and sitting on it.

“Buffy...” he said, taking a deep and ragged breath, halting her by placing his hands on her arms.

“Don’t stop, William, please. Show me how you care, please.”

He wanted to cry. He had also never truly felt stuck between a rock and a hard place either. She was breaking his heart – and if she were breaking his, what was the state of hers?

He didn’t move fast enough for her apparently, for she was then taking Spike in her hands and guiding him to her center; sliding herself onto him.

“Buffy,” he gasped and gathered her to him. She wasn’t even that wet. . . he stilled his movements, not wanting to hurt her, but she kept on, thrusting herself as best she could against him.

“Buffy...” he moaned.

“Yes, William, please...Please, William, please...” she kept saying over and over.

His body betrayed him and soon he was pounding into her while hot tears cascaded down his cheeks and it was too late that he realized, as he was cumming inside her, that she was crying too.





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