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Every day was awful.

William had thought, foolishly, that it would get better each day, easier somehow to wake up alone and go to bed alone and startle awake in the middle of the night reaching for her and never quite being quick enough. She haunted him. He slept only in spurts, sometimes twenty minutes, another time three hours of sleep so hard he woke in a sweat. And always she was there. Golden. Glowing. Gentle and warm.

The first time he called her cell phone, it rang twice before going to voicemail. He called repeatedly over the next three days, but each time his call went directly to voicemail. On the fourth day, he received only a recorded message stating that ‘the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service.’

He got very, very drunk. It didn't help.

He went to the Doublemeat Palace, where the dead-eyed woman behind the counter had never heard of Buffy Summers. Manny, the manager and only slightly more animated than the minimum-wage grunts manning the grills, was equally clueless. William left with a mixed sigh of frustration and relief; finding Buffy at that place, with the relentless fluorescent lights that made him feel slightly less-than-human, and the lingering stench of old grease thick in the air, would have been almost as bad not finding her at all.

His stop at the diner was just as fruitless. They remembered Buffy, sure, but the only address they had on file for her was the shabby walk-up in the bad part of town. No emergency contact listed.

In an act of sheer desperation and not a little bit of self-loathing, he made his way to The Alibi Room. No Buffy, but plenty of cheap booze. Getting very, very drunk at the sleazy dive helped even less than getting very, very drunk at home.

It was almost two weeks later that he finally lit on a simple solution to the case of the missing girlfriend. He darted out of his office in the direction of the university library. He could have kicked himself for not thinking of this sooner – might have done so if he hadn’t been working so hard at pickling himself into oblivion. He knew when Buffy’s mother had died, he’d find her obituary and that bastard’s last name, and then he’d find Buffy.

There was no doubt in William’s mind that the phone call from Dawn had been the trigger for Buffy’s disappearance. When he thought of that night, the look in her eyes when he came upon her in the kitchen, he hated himself for not pursuing the cause of her distress, for thinking they could talk about it the next day. And when it came to Dawn and Buffy and trouble, the only thing he could think of was that rat bastard stepfather of theirs. So he’d find the man and kick his teeth in, if that was what it took to get Buffy back.

William lurched around the corner to the library entrance and came to a dead stop. Sitting on a bench just outside the library was a young girl with long, shiny brown hair and big blue eyes. A heavy plaster cast covered her left arm from wrist to bicep and a sulk adorned her face. She glanced up sullenly as he approached, then flipped her hair over her shoulder – and did shampoo-commercial hair run in the family or what? –and looked right through him.

“Dawn,” he said, and that caught her attention. She looked at him with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

“Who’re you?” she asked with studied nonchalance, the surprise melting from her face to be replaced with bored indifference. William was pretty sure he knew where she got that trick from.

“You are Dawn, yeah?” he said. “You’re Buffy’s sister.”

She rolled her eyes. “Buffy’s my sister,” she replied with a heaping of scorn.

William sat on the bench next to the girl. “Thought you were in Iowa,” he said tersely.

She eyed him for a minute. “You’re Will, aren’t you?” she said finally, a bit of warmth creeping into her tone when he nodded. “Buffy won’t talk about you anymore, but she used to all the time, before I… when I was away.”

William absorbed this little tidbit of information. “What happened to your arm?” he asked gently.

Dawn cradled the arm in question closer to her body. “I fell,” she said. Her closed-off expression was another one William was too familiar with for comfort.

“For some reason,” William said, “I find that hard to believe.”

She was good, he’d give her that. She didn’t even twitch, just cut her eyes his way for a second and then resumed staring at nothing.

William sighed. He reached over and patted her hand tenderly. She flinched slightly at the contact, and he drew back. “Why aren’t you in Iowa anymore?”

Dawn drew her shoulders up to her ears. “I got in trouble. My aunt didn’t want me there anymore.”

He clenched his jaw, bit back a scathing comment about fair-weather relatives. “What kind of mischief could you get into, pigeon?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

She bit her lip before answering him. When she spoke, her voice was low and bitter, hardly the squeaky, squealing pre-teen voice he’d become familiar with from her calls to Buffy. “Oh, let me think. Drinking, smoking, shoplifting. That enough?” Dawn’s chin was down now, the point resting on her chest. She seemed to be trying to sink into the bench.

“Gotta say, I’m impressed,” William said. “I’d ask what you were thinkin’, but I expect you’ve heard that a time or two already.”

Dawn looked up at him with surprise. A smile crawled across her lips. “I think I’m getting why Buffy likes you so much,” she said.

“How is your big sis?” William asked, aiming for casual but missing by about a mile.

A guilty expression crossed Dawn’s face. “She’s okay, I guess,” she mumbled. “You could ask her yourself, you know.”

William felt a shock slide down his spine. His head swiveled around, as if he expected to find Buffy hiding somewhere along the hallway or behind a potted plant. “Where is she?”

Dawn cocked her head toward the library. “She’s in there, talking to Giles.”

“The librarian?” William’s head was spinning.

Dawn shrugged. “She said we needed help. Giles and Jenny – that’s his wife – were friends of our mom’s. We’ve been staying with them ever since…”

William gestured to Dawn’s arm. “Since you ‘fell’?”

Dawn nodded and her eyes welled up with tears. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been so… If I hadn’t had to come back here, everything would be okay. Buffy would be okay.”

William’s heart froze. He stood up and stormed to the library doors, yanking them open violently in his rush to get to his girl.

The three figures at the circulation desk turned at his sudden entrance. William had eyes only for the slender girl standing with the middle-aged librarian and a slim, dark-haired woman. She glowed, just as he remembered. Her long curls were gone, though, her hair cut into a short, sleek bob.

William took her into his arms and studied her closely. “You cut your hair,” he heard himself say stupidly. He was only peripherally aware of Giles’ startled face and instinctive step forward, which was halted by a touch on his arm from the woman next to him. Buffy filled his senses.

She seemed thinner to him, her trembling form engulfed in a thick, cowl-necked sweater. She wore more makeup than was usual for her, but it couldn’t hide the bruising on her left cheek and around her left eye, didn’t mask the swollen and split lip she sported. William caressed her face very carefully. “Oh, kitten,” he sighed. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Buffy stared up at him solemnly. One hand came up to stroke his cheek, but quickly pulled away. “I’m so sorry, William,” she whispered.

William shook his head. “I’m just glad you’re okay now,” he said. “But why’d you run off like that? Why didn’t you tell me what was goin’ on? Dawn would’ve been more than welcome at our place.”

Buffy sniffled. “I know it was stupid, I’m sorry.”

“And when he did this to you,” he gestured to her battered face, “why didn’t you call me for help?”

The tears Buffy had been fighting spilled over. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his chest. William tightened his arms around her. Then she took a deep breath and pulled back to look in his eyes. “I didn’t want to get you in trouble,” she said hoarsely. “I’m… Will, I’m so sorry, I should have told you.” William watched her and waited. “I lied to you,” she whispered finally. William felt his heart skip a beat. “I’m seventeen.”

Everything was very silent for a moment, then all William could hear was the roar of his blood rushing in his ears. His arms fell to his sides. Buffy dropped her gaze to his chest as Giles cleared his throat and moved towards them.

“Yes, well, Jenny, perhaps it would be best if you took the girls home now. I would like to have a word with Mr. Pratt.” Giles removed his glasses from his face and began polishing the lenses with a cloth as his wife stepped forward.

Jenny put an arm around Buffy and whispered something in her ear. Buffy nodded and moved away from William without another glance. William watched her walk away from him and felt his heart break a little bit more.

Giles’ voice broke into William’s thoughts. “Why don’t we talk in my office?” the older man suggested.

William nodded numbly and followed Giles to the small office behind the circulation desk. He took a seat in the wooden chair placed in front of the desk, gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles turned white.

Giles sat behind the desk and pressed his fingers to his temples for a moment before looking up at William. “Would you care for a drink?” he asked suddenly.

William was taken aback at the unexpected question. “Uh, yeah, thanks,” he said. He watched as Giles opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. Giles poured a generous splash into each glass and handed one to William. They drank in silence. William was grateful for the burn in his throat as the alcohol went down.

Giles leaned back in his chair and contemplated William for a moment before speaking. “I understand that you and Buffy were, ah, in a relationship for some time. Buffy was quite insistent that you were unaware of her age. Given your reaction to the news, I believe that you did not knowingly take advantage of her.”

William choked a little on the last of his drink. He plunked the glass down on Giles’ desk. “Take advantage?” he said, a dangerous edge creeping into his voice.

Giles held his hands up. “Perhaps that was not the best choice of words,” he said. “Buffy was very clear about her wishes, and I agree with her that pursuing charges against you would only make a bad situation worse. Under the circumstances, however, it would be best for you not to have any further contact with her.”

“Charges?” William realized he was parroting the other man’s words, but the past ten minutes had done a number on him. His brain was still trying to process Buffy’s final words.

Giles cleared his throat and began polishing his glasses again. “We have no plans to mention your involvement with Buffy to the authorities. She certainly has enough to cope with as it stands. Her stepfather was arrested on suspicion of child abuse last week and she will be expected to testify when the case comes to trial.” He poured another scotch for each of them and knocked his back in one smooth motion. “Why she felt she couldn’t come to us until things had gotten so out of control…” he mused aloud, his voice thick with emotion.

William leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. “This is… I can’t... I just can’t.” Words failed him. He stood up, the chair scraping across the floor.

Giles stood as well. “Before you leave, I need your word that you will stay away from Buffy. Jenny and I have been granted temporary custody of both girls, and they are our responsibility. I am willing to disregard your, ah, past actions. But I must warn you that I will not be so understanding if you continue to pursue a relationship with a minor under my care.” His gray eyes were flinty as he faced William.

William met his eyes. “Since the day I met Buffy, I have only wanted the best for her. I… I’ll stay away from her.” He swallowed hard and turned on his heel, slamming the office door behind him.

***

Every day was awful.

William had thought, foolishly, that knowing the truth, knowing that Buffy had lied to him for months, would make it easier to be without her.

He was wrong.

At the end of February, he interviewed at Reed College. He was offered the position in their English department, and he began making arrangements for the move to Portland. He decided he would leave Sunnydale as soon as the school year was over. He hoped that a change of scene would ease the heartache he lived with every day.

He followed Buffy’s case in the papers. They didn’t mention her or Dawn by name, of course, respecting their privacy as minors, but Ted Buchanan’s trial was big news in Sunnydale for a time. He read about the conclusion of the trial with mixed feelings. The shite was going to prison, but his sentence was a mere six years – much too short in William’s estimation.

During the last week of classes, William was in his office, packing up his things, when the knock came on his door. “It’s open,” he called, not looking up from the filing cabinet. He heard the door open and someone stepped into the office, but didn’t say anything. He turned to see Buffy standing just inside the doorway.

“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he said roughly. She flinched at his tone, but stood her ground. He stared at her, soaking her in. She looked gorgeous, dressed in a demure white sundress that bared her tanned shoulders. She was wearing the locket he had given her for Christmas.

“Giles knows I’m here,” she said. “He told me you were leaving, that you got the job in Portland.” Buffy took a step closer to him, and he sat down abruptly, not trusting himself. He wanted to run to her, take her in his arms and never let her go. “I wanted to talk to you before you left.” She took a seat on the chair facing his desk and crossed her legs.

“So talk,” he said. He cursed himself silently when her face blanched at his curt words.

“I am sorry, Will,” she said quietly, looking not at him but down at her hands, which were clenched together in her lap. “I know I should have told you the truth, I knew it every single day. I just… I didn’t know what would happen if you knew, and…”

“Well, it’s too late now, innit? Can’t go back and tell you what might have been, what I might have done. Because you didn’t give me that choice.”

A tear slipped down Buffy’s cheek, but she was otherwise outwardly calm. She kept her eyes on him as he spoke.

William sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Buffy, all I wanted for you, all I ever wanted, was for you to be happy. D’you know what I thought the first time I saw you?” He gave her a fierce glance and she shook her head meekly. “I thought, ‘that girl doesn’t belong in a dive like this.’ I thought you glowed; you were the most incredible girl I’d ever seen. I knew right that instant that there was somethin’ special about you. An’ I was right.” He shook his head. “I wish you had trusted me enough to let me help you.”

Buffy nodded solemnly. “If… if I had told you, would…” She fixed him in her steady gaze.

William swallowed. “I want to say I would’ve done the right thing, Buffy, but I just don’t know. You were all I thought about since the day I met you. You were all I dreamt about. Christ, you’re still all I dream about. I’m drownin’ in you.”

Buffy smiled sadly and stood, moving around the desk toward him. William stood as well, and caught her wrist when she reached for him.

“Buffy, you know…” He closed his eyes tightly. “You know this can’t happen, we can’t… Much as I want you, kitten, in every way possible, it’s not gonna happen.” He looked at her. The expression on her face, the sheer grief written in every line, hit him like a punch to the gut. “You need to go now,” he said.

“Oh,” Buffy said. Her face fell and she turned away from him. At the doorway she stopped. Her hands moved up to her neck and she unfastened her necklace. “Here,” she murmured, holding it out to him. “You should… I can’t keep this, Will.”

William’s heart hurt. “I gave that to you, Buffy. It’s yours.” He took her hand in his and curled her fingers around the locket. He lifted her hand to his mouth and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles. She gave him one last, small smile through the tears that were now falling freely, and walked out of his life.





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