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Author's Chapter Notes:
Oh, look, I finished it! For better or worse (although hopefully not worse...) here's the last chapter. There is an epilogue which will be posted in the next day or two. As always, any lines from BtVS are not mine, nor are the characters.

Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed my first effort at fanfiction. I know I'm terrible at responding to reviews, but they are always greatly appreciated.

Plot bunnies have been attacking my brain left and right, so hopefully once I get my laptop repaired (and here's a tip for you all: beer is bad for computers. Who knew?) and work settles down a little, I'll have some more stories to share.

Thanks again for reading, and please leave a comment if you're so inclined.
William had been sure, when Buffy scarpered off following Norah's interruption, that she was gone for good. When he arrived on campus the next morning, however, there was a voice mail from an obviously nervous Buffy.

"Hi, it's Buffy. Um, sorry I took off like that, I just... So, you have a girlfriend? That's, um... But I really would like to see you. Just to talk, I mean, because I have some things I wanted to talk to you about. So, like I said, my roommates and I are having a party on Friday, or if you want to just get together sometime you can give me a call. Okay?"

She rattled off an address and phone number, which William hurried to jot down. He grinned and played the message a second time - to make sure he had the address correct, he told himself, but he knew it was really just to hear her voice.

He was proof-reading a final exam when the knock came on his office door. He looked up to see Norah standing in the doorway. "Morning," she said. "I thought you might like some coffee." She held out the to-go cup she carried as he stood up and moved around his desk toward her.

"Thanks," William said, taking the coffee. They looked at each other in an awkward silence for a moment. William glanced down at his desk and saw the scrap of paper with Buffy's name and number scribbled on it. Norah's eyes followed his and widened almost imperceptibly. Guilt stabbed at him, and he sighed heavily.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Norah asked gently.

William took a sip of his coffee before answering. "I don't know what to tell you," he said finally, not quite looking at her.

"Are you going to see her again?"

William looked up to meet Norah's eyes. She was watching him calmly, arms folded across her chest. She wasn't angry, but he could see the hurt that lingered behind her serene countenance. It was the same expression she'd had the day before, when he'd brushed off her questions and assured her that Buffy was nothing more than an old friend. "I don't know," William said helplessly. He sank into a chair, and Norah sat as well. "She... she wants to see me." He squeezed his eyes shut. His head ached.

"What do you want, William?" Norah questioned.

Buffy, he thought, but didn't say. He shrugged his shoulders silently.

"Does that mean you don't know, or you aren't going to tell me?"

"I don't want to hurt you," he said. "You know that, right?"

Norah fixed him in her suddenly steely gaze. "What do you think is going to hurt me more, William? Telling me the truth, or stringing me along until you get the guts to go after what you really want?"

She was getting mad now; he could hear it in the tightness in her voice, see it in the flash of her dark eyes. His own temper rose, spurred on by the guilt and confusion and longing that had his insides tied up in knots. "You're so smart, why don't you tell me what it is I want?" he ground out.

Norah shook her head. "I didn't come here to fight with you. I just want to know where I stand, is all. The way you were looking at her yesterday.... William, if you had ever once looked at me like that, I'd be fighting tooth and nail for you." A tear slipped down her cheek, and William's guilt ratcheted up.

He leaned forward and reached for her hand. "Norah," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, I really am. I'm so turned around right now."

Norah pulled her hand out of his grasp. She wiped her eyes and regarded him calmly. "See, I don't think you are," she said. "You don't want to talk to me because you think I'm going to be hurt. If you weren't sure I'm not..." She took a deep breath. "You know what you want, William," she continued after a moment. "And we both know I'm not it."

"Ah, Norah," William sighed. He wanted to reassure her, but he couldn't find the words. He dropped his head into his hands, wishing he could just skip this. He heard her chair scrape across the floor, followed by the click of her heels on the floor. She stood in front of his chair. He felt her hand rest gently on the back of his neck. "It's like I'm stuck," he said. "There's a part of me that's still living in this dream I had, and seeing her... it makes it all come rushing back, and I want to be there again. I want her."

Norah's hand lifted from his skin; he felt immediately bereft. She stepped back and looked him in the eye as he raised his head. "Thank you," she whispered.

William blinked. "For what?"

"For being honest." She smiled at him, a little sadly. "I've been waiting for... well, maybe not this, exactly, but something. For as long as I've known you, William, you've been, I don't know, distant. Holding back. Like you're keeping your heart out of everything.”

“I'm sorry.” The words sounded feeble to him.

“Me, too,” Norah said. She bent down and kissed him very softly, then turned and walked out of his office.

***

William parked his DeSoto across the street from Buffy's house and gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before killing the engine. He reached into the glove box and retrieved his flask.He took one long, burning swig of whiskey to settle his jittery nerves, and stepped out of the car.

He stared up at the house, contemplating his next move. The past several days had been spent in a flurry of activity – rewriting final exams, grading essays, drinking entirely too much – all of which was aimed at leaving him neither the time nor the capacity to think about Buffy. To say it had been unsuccessful would be grossly understating the situation. No matter what he did, where he was, who he was with, she was at the forefront of his mind. He had it bad, he knew that – he hadn't felt this hopelessly torn up and turned around since the months before he'd left Sunnydale.

Taking a deep breath – and one last slug from the flask – William made his way across the street and up the stairs of the wide porch. The house was mostly dark; a light was visible from an upstairs window, and a dim light shone behind the curtained picture window on the first floor. Before he could chicken out, he lifted one shaking hand and rapped sharply on the door. He waited a full minute before knocking a second time. Through the narrow window next to the front door, he saw a light come on, and then a shadowy figure approached the door. His heart beat painfully in his chest.

The door swung open slowly to reveal Buffy dressed in a thin gray robe, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. William couldn't speak for a moment, could only drink in the sight of her.

"William? What are you doing here?" Her voice broke into his thoughts.

"Hello, pet," he said, leaning against the door frame. "Needed to see you."

Buffy looked up at him with startled eyes before nodding and opening the door wider in a silent invitation. William stepped into the house. They watched each other, neither willing to break the silence for the time being. Buffy fidgeted with the sash of her robe. William's eyes were drawn to the vee of tanned skin visible between the edges of the garment.

"Will, what are you doing here?" Buffy asked again. Her voice was quiet, hesitant. "I thought maybe tomorrow, but..."

William grinned and took a step closer to her. "What can I say? I couldn't wait."

She smiled a little at that, but moved away from him. He followed her, drawn to her like iron filings to a magnet. Before she could edge away again, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her body into his. He could feel the heat of her through her robe. His forearm rested on the delicious, soft curve of her buttocks; his fingers curled into the swell of her hip. His mouth crashed against hers without thought, his lips and tongue and teeth demanding and edacious.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss. He poured into it all of the tumultuous emotions she had awoken in him with her sudden reappearance. Guilt, anger, heartache... all the confusion and torment inside of William went into that kiss. But then he felt Buffy's hands on his chest, pushing against him. He tasted salt and realized she was crying. He pulled out of the kiss, still holding her tightly with one arm, and buried his face in her hair.

"Sorry," he murmured. He breathed heavily, trying desperately to regain control over himself. This hadn't been his intention in coming here. He had wanted only to see her, to talk to her. "I'm so sorry," he said again. When he moved to step away from her, though, her grip on him changed. Her hands fisted into the material of his t-shirt and pulled him tighter against her. Her arms slid to his shoulders and across his shoulder blades to tease along his spine before pressing into the small of his back. His hold on her waist loosened fractionally. He brought his other hand up to her hair, let the golden strands slip through his fingers, and they melted together into a tender embrace.

"Missed this," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. His hands came up to her cheeks, turned her face towards his. He searched her watery eyes for a second before dipping his head again, his lips brushing lightly against hers. "Buffy," he whispered, and kissed her again. He felt complete for the first time in years; he felt as if he'd come home.

It was some time before William came back to his senses. He gently disentangled himself from her, his hands on her shoulders holding her at arm's length. Buffy nodded, as if she'd gotten the answer to a question he didn't know she was asking, and took a step back from him, her arms folded across her chest. William studied her; her cheeks were flushed and tear-stained, and her lips swollen from his kisses. He thought she'd never looked more beautiful.

"Buffy," he said just as the front door swung open.

A broad shouldered man stepped into the house and stopped abruptly on seeing William and Buffy. His dark-eyed gaze went back and forth between them before settling on Buffy. "Hey, Buffster, everything okay?" he asked with concern.

Buffy nodded and wiped the last of her tears away. "Yeah, Xander, I'm fine. Um, this is William."

The coolly appraising look Xander turned on him made William feel suddenly self-concious. He wondered what Buffy had told the younger man about him. Looking at them as Xander moved to stand next to Buffy, his hand caressing her arm for a second and a silent conversation passing between them in a simple look, William also wondered what they were to one another.

"I'm going to get dressed, Will," Buffy said. "Then we can talk, okay?"

William nodded.

"Do you want something to drink? Xander can get you whatever you'd like, right?" Buffy looked up at Xander with a slightly pleading expression.

Xander smiled. "Sure, Buff." He turned to William, and the smile fell off his face. Buffy didn't seem to notice, just graced them both with a bright, brittle smile, and hurried upstairs.

"Do you want a beer?" Xander offered stiffly.

"Sure, thanks," William replied. He waited in the hallway, quietly examining the photos that covered the walls. The photo of Buffy with her mother and sister, the one that once upon a time had hung in his home – their home – was prominently displayed. He quickly scanned the other pictures, looking for Buffy's face in each of them and finding her with Dawn, with Giles and his wife, with their baby. Lots of pictures, but none that screamed 'couple' to him.

He tried to reassure himself that she wouldn't have clung to him and kissed him the way she had if she was seeing someone.

Then Xander was standing in front of him, a beer clutched in either hand. "Thanks, mate," William said as he accepted the bottle. They stood in an awkward silence, both sipping on their beers and eying each other up as obliquely as possible. Possible questions to ask this man flitted through William's mind, but he dismissed them all as too obviously fishing for information about Buffy. William heaved a mostly-silent sigh of relief when he heard Buffy's tread on the stairs. Both men turned grateful eyes toward her as she approached.

William smiled at the sight of her. She'd taken her hair out of the ponytail, and it bounced in golden waves around her face and shoulders. She wore a dark green tank top, and when she turned to retrieve a sweatshirt from the hook by the front door, he spied a tattoo – delicate black characters; Sanskrit, he thought – on her right shoulder.

Buffy slipped her arms into the sweatshirt and faced him. Her gaze slid past him briefly to meet Xander's eyes. “It's such a nice night,” she said. “Why don't we go outside?”
William nodded his agreement and followed her through the house. She stopped in the kitchen and retrieved a beer for herself from the refrigerator before leading him into the backyard. She sat at the picnic table in the middle of the yard and took a sip of her beer.

William sat next to her and studied her profile for a moment. “Buffy,” he said finally, when she didn't seem inclined to break the silence. “What's going on? You show up out of the blue and tell me you need to see me and... I don't know what to think.” Frustration tinged his voice.

Buffy sighed. “I know. I didn't mean to, you know, disrupt your life or anything. But I needed...” She looked away from him, but he could see the tears that began to fill her eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” He spoke gently but firmly, and was gratified when she turned back to him. “I'm a little thrown, yeah, but sweetheart, I am so glad to see you again. Okay?”

She nodded. “I wanted to talk to you, ask you some things. Say some things. I tried, back in Sunnydale. Before you left. But I was too scared, and I think you were too angry.”

“You're not wrong. But I'm not angry now.” He smiled reassuringly when she shot him a quick look. "Go on, then," he encouraged.

“Why didn't you ever come back?” she asked.

William took a deep breath. “Couldn't start off with an easy one, eh, pet? Like, how've you been?”

Buffy laughed. "Okay. How have you been, William?"

He felt the smile drop off his lips. “Y'know, the past year or so, I thought I was doing all right. Love my job, been writing more than I have in years, getting some papers published. Started dating a real nice lady, even.”

Buffy's eyes went dark, and her head fell forward. “And then I showed up.” It wasn't a question.

William sighed and took a long swallow of his beer. “Well, yeah.” He took in the sorrow evident on her face. “Buffy, you walking back into my life... I thought I had things figured out, y'know? Put the past behind me, moved on, all that rot. Then I see you and...” He paused and reached for her hand. It trembled slightly in his. “All right, so maybe that wasn't the easier question.”

Buffy scooted a little closer to him on the bench. “Wanna go back to the original one then?”

For the first time in years, William wished for a cigarette. Something – anything – to occupy his hands and mouth while he thought of how to answer her. "You weren't exactly beating a path to my door, either, pet," he said finally. He knew that wasn't quite fair, tell the girl to talk to him and then turn it around on her.

"I know," Buffy said quietly. "But I'm here now."

"Yeah, here you are." William gently ran his fingers down her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. They were suddenly very close to one another; he could feel the warmth of her denim-clad leg next to his. He slid an arm around her shoulders and reveled in the feel of her, soft and trusting in his arms. "Thought I was doing what was best for you, Buffy," he said. His voice was very low. "You had so much crap thrown at you, you never got a chance to be a kid. Thought you needed a chance to grow up a little bit. And... well, thought you deserved better than me."

Buffy pulled away from him. "That's just stupid," she said indignantly.

William shook his head. "I was no good for you, Buffy. I told you I'd help you, but I didn't. I told you I wouldn't leave you, and I did."

"You helped me, Will," Buffy said hoarsely. She leaned her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. "You have no idea how much."

William laughed hollowly. "When I let you go back to that bastard, let him hurt you and your sister, was that helping?"

"You didn't know what I was going to do," Buffy protested.

"Maybe not, but I knew something was going on that night. But instead of finding out what it was, I let my cock do my thinking for me." He grabbed her wrists and peeled her arms off of him. "And when I found you again, I gave up without a fight. Walked out of your life when you needed me more than ever. You think I deserve a girl like you, if that's how I treat you?" William released her hands and backed away from her. "Can't blame you if you hated me."

Buffy followed him, her eyes fixed on his. She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "I never hated you, William," she said. "You saved my life."

William scoffed at that.

"I'm serious. I was... god, I was such a mess when I met you. But you were so patient and kind and... and you loved me, no matter what I did. No matter what I told you about me. You remember the first time I came to your house?"

William nodded.

"That was the first time I'd cried since my mother died. I hadn't talked about my mom to anyone since she died, not even Dawnie. I hadn't let myself cry about her, because I felt like I would fall apart if I did. I don't know what it was about you, but... William, you were exactly what I needed. It was like I'd been walking around in a little bubble, nothing could touch me, but I couldn't feel anything, either. Then I met you and that bubble popped, and sometimes it hurt, but mostly I was so happy to feel again."

Buffy took a deep breath and buried her head in William's chest for a moment before continuing. "And you made me feel like the whole thing with Ted wasn't my fault. I know," she said when he would have interrupted her, "I know it wasn't, but it took a lot for me to believe it. You... you gave me the strength I needed to ask for help after Dawn came home. So don't think you didn't help me, Will, because you did. Even when you weren't there, you were helping me."

William slid his fingers into her hair and tipped her head back. "’S that so?" he whispered. She nodded, her eyes wide and luminous and very, very green.

"I never got to thank you for... for everything. Or to tell you how sorry I was, for lying to you. For hurting you, for taking off like I did. That's what I wanted to say to you, William. Thank you. And I'm so, so very sorry." She brought one hand up to trace the scar on his eyebrow. Then she stretched upward and pressed her lips to his in a chaste, tender kiss.

William's hands slipped down her back and pulled her tight against him. He groaned at the feel of her body pressed against his. "Christ, Buffy, what you do to me!"

She gave him a shy little smile. "Is this okay? That I want to kiss you and, and be with you?"

He let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Can't you tell, pet?"

Buffy shrugged. "I didn't want to assume anything, Will. And, wait, what about your girlfriend?" She pulled out of his grasp, her expression suddenly fierce.

"She broke up with me. Or I broke up with her." He furrowed his brow. "Not really sure, just know that we're not together."

"I'm sorry," Buffy said. She didn't sound the least bit sorry, however. And then she was back in his arms, her fingers twining through his hair and pulling him down to meet her questing lips.

When they stopped to breathe, Buffy crawled into William's lap and laid her head on his shoulder. "I tried so hard to get over you," she said, her breath warm and moist on his throat. "But I couldn't."

"You shouldn’t have bothered," William said. He dropped a light kiss on the crown of her head and smoothed soft circles across her back. “I’m plain irresistible.”

Buffy laughed softly and kissed his neck. He shivered and gripped her shoulders tightly. “Buffy,” he whispered. “I couldn’t get over you, either. Thought I had, till I saw you again. Then it all came back, like it was yesterday.”

“Can you forgive me?” she asked. She rested her forehead against his.

“Only if you can forgive me, sweetheart.”

She kissed him for all she was worth. “I’m sorry,” she muttered into his mouth.

“For what now, pet?”

“For wasting so much time. I was so stupid, I thought there was no way you would want me after…”

He silenced her with a kiss. “Silly girl. I always wanted you. Always will. I told you, you’re the one, Buffy. You’re the only one for me. Want you to be my girl.”

“Oh, I am, William.”

He smiled at her. “Good,” he said, satisfaction coloring his voice. He tightened his arms around her and kissed her again.





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