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They walked in an electric, thrumming silence to William’s cozy bungalow. He led Buffy up the wide stairs of the front porch and paused before opening the door. He slid his hands into her hair and turned her mouth up to his for a kiss. This one was soft and questing, slow and sensuous. Buffy’s hands gripped his upper arms, her fingers sliding beneath the sleeves of his black t-shirt. He skimmed one hand down her back to pull her closer and felt her tremble against him. He broke the kiss and stared into her eyes for a moment. A blush raced across her cheeks as he gazed intently at her.

Back to being bashful, he thought. Bloody adorable.

William unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Come in, make yourself at home,” he offered, ushering Buffy in to the living room. He walked past her into the small kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

“Sure,” came her answer. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

He could hear her moving around in the living room. He pulled two glasses out of the cupboard and quickly mixed Jack and cokes for both of them. When he returned to her, she was standing in front of the bookcases lining the long wall of his living room. She turned to him with a small smile as he handed her the drink.

“These are all yours?” she questioned, gesturing to the books filling the shelves.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I like to read.”

Buffy laughed quietly. “I guess so.” She continued her perusal of the shelves, every now and then pulling a book out to read the description. She took a sip of her drink and made a face as it went down.

“Too strong, pet?” William inquired, amused at her wrinkled nose and the glimpse of her tongue.

“Uh, no, just… I guess I wasn’t expecting a drink-drink. Thought it was soda.” Buffy took another sip. That one went down easier. In a matter of minutes, her drink was empty and she held her glass out to him. "Please, sir, may I have another?"

William raised his eyebrows at her. "That was... quick," he commented drily. He took the glass, though, and fixed her another drink, going easy on the Jack this time. After topping off his own drink, he strolled back to the living room and stood next to Buffy. She jumped a little when he held her drink out to her, then turned a bright smile on him.

"You have a lot of poetry books," she chattered. "I'm not much of a reader, but I always liked poetry when I had to study it in school. Although the whole metaphor thing and what the poet was really saying, that seemed kind of silly to me. I mean, couldn't a poem just be about how yummy plums are instead of the plums representing something else? Or that one about the road in the woods…"

William narrowed his eyes at her as she rattled on. "Are you nervous?" he asked finally.

Buffy laughed. It sounded cheery and brittle. "What? No! I-Is there something I should be nervous about?"

William set his drink down on a shelf and grasped her shoulders, turning her towards him. She focused her gaze on his chin and swallowed. "Well, you could be nervous about what's going to happen now that I've got you all alone in my house," he prompted.

She tittered uneasily, blushed, and drained her drink before answering. "Maybe?"

William sighed and took her hands in his. He led her to the couch and sat her down, then took a seat on the coffee table facing her, still cradling her hands. "Listen, I'm not going to say I don't want you, because Lord knows, I really, really do." Buffy let out a little squeak. "But we both know that what happened when we met was out of character for you. Was for me, too." She glanced up at him with surprise written on her face. "I've been with one woman for the past five years," he explained. "And before her, well, let's just say I wasn't anyone's idea of a catch. Casual sex has never been my style. So let's take sex off the table, okay? I'd like to get to know you, because I think you're worth getting to know as a person. Not gonna deny wanting a repeat of the other night, but I'm not gonna push for it if it's something you're uncomfortable with. All right?"

Buffy's mouth was hanging open by the time he finished his speech. "Um, wow. That's really... sweet and, and sensitive and... Is this some kinda line, where you pretend you're all understanding-guy to get me to want to jump you?"

William guffawed. "Promise, kitten, it's not a line. But it made you wanna jump me?"

"Maybe a little bit." Buffy glanced down at their clasped hands. "I like the idea of getting to know each other, though." She smirked at him. "Y'know, when I saw you at the bar, I thought, 'ooh, bad boy,' but you're just a fluffy little puppy, aren't you?"

William growled at her. "Cheeky bint! Try to be nice, and that's what I get?" Grumbling to himself he stood up and retrieved their glasses from the bookshelf. "Not tryin' to get you drunk, but would you like another drink?" At her nod, he headed back into the kitchen.

He returned to the living room to find her looking with interest at a box of pictures he had been rummaging through while clearing Drusilla out of his life. He sat on the table again and watched with some dismay as she reached into the box of snapshots. “Oh, those are…” His voice trailed off as Buffy started flipping through pictures.

“Is this your girlfriend?” she questioned, flashing him a photo of the dark-haired woman. He nodded dumbly.

“She’s very pretty,” Buffy stated. She tossed the picture aside carelessly.

“Oh, my God, is this you?” she squealed. William groaned as he spied the picture that she held. Him at his high school graduation, at what he estimated was the peak of his nerdiness.

“I was young,” he said by way of explanation.

“You were so… so cute!” Buffy exclaimed. “Look at that hair!”

“Yes, I’m familiar with it,” he muttered, standing up as she attempted to push the photo into his line of sight.

“So, when did you do that?” Buffy gestured to his bleach blond hair, carefully gelled to keep his natural curls subdued.

“Oh, right around the time I met Dru. Was her idea, of course. She had this whole punk-goth thing going on and wanted the boyfriend to match. So, changed my hair, changed my clothes, even changed my name.”

“Wait, your name’s not William? Do I get to call you names now? Maybe throw a little temper tantrum?” Buffy grinned to show she was teasing.

“Oi! Don't recall callin' you any names. And ‘William’ wasn’t nearly punk enough. Went by,” he cringed before he said it, “'Spike' for most of my time in uni.”

Buffy laughed. And laughed. And laughed a little more. William sighed and sat down next to her.

“All right, Buffy, it’s bloody hilarious, I know, but I hardly think you're in a position to be mockin' anyone's name.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders when she fell against him, gasping for air between bouts of giggles.

“Spike!” she choked out. She pushed herself upright and wiped a tear away. “That’s fantastic, it really is. And I had nothing to do with my name. So unless your mother saddled you with Spike, I think I can mock all I like.” With another snigger she moved on to the next picture she held. “Oh, well, I can see why Dru wanted you to change the way you dressed. A bow tie and a sweater vest? Did you get beat up a lot in high school?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, and thanks ever so for the commentary.” William attempted to snatch the stack of photos from her hand over her cry of protest.

“I do think you were cute,” Buffy offered kindly. “Even if you were a geek. Ooh, any chance you were in marching band?”

“Thankfully not. Now, trip down my memory lane complete, or do you need to poke a little more fun?”

"Definitely more poking required. So, Spike, did you wear a dog collar to go with your new name?" Buffy flipped through the pictures quickly, then stopped on one that made her eyes glaze over. "Oh. I'd say Dru had the right idea," she murmured.

William looked over her shoulder at the picture of himself in full punk regalia. His blond hair gelled into artistically mussed spikes, heavy black eye makeup, leather duster covering his ripped and safety-pinned t-shirt and his skintight jeans, black nail polish and a multitude of silver rings gracing his hands and, yes, a studded black leather dog collar. William reached for the picture and received a light slap on his knuckles for his effort.

"Oh no, Spikey, I think I wanna keep this one," Buffy giggled. "You're so ... grrr and lickable." She tucked the picture beneath her thigh with a mischievous grin and returned to flipping through the stack.

The next picture she flashed at him for further explanation made his heart clench. He plucked the picture from Buffy's hand and traced a finger over the photo. "That's me and my mum," he said quietly. "This was at Christmastime during my first year at university. The next day we found out she had stomach cancer. She was gone two months later." William took a deep breath before glancing at Buffy. She was pale and silent, her eyes very wide and filled with tears. She blinked and the tears that stood in her eyes spilled down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, William," she whispered. Her hands shook a little as she carefully set the photos she held down on the table. Then she dropped her face into her hands and began sobbing whole-heartedly.

William sat next to her in stunned silence for a moment. He raised a hand to her shoulder and patted her awkwardly on the back. "What's all this for, then?" he asked. She shook her head as sobs continued to wrack her thin frame. In desperation, William pulled her onto his lap. She tucked her head into his shoulder and proceeded to soak his t-shirt with her tears.

"Buffy? Sweetness, please," William pleaded. He rubbed her back helplessly and waited her out. After some minutes, her sobs tapered off. She sniffled and snuffled, wiping at her wet cheeks and runny nose with still-trembling hands.

William gently removed Buffy from his lap and stood up. She watched him with wet eyes as he left the room. He returned quickly with a damp washcloth and a glass of water. She smiled tremulously at him as she accepted his offerings, cleaning her face thoroughly before downing the water.

"Feel better, kitten?" he inquired. She nodded and he sat down next to her again. "Now, wanna tell me what the waterworks are for? Cuz tender hearted as you are, I can't believe that was all about my mum."

Buffy shook her head. "I... my mom died not too long ago," she whispered. "She had these headaches, and they found a brain tumor. But they got it all out, they said she was going to be just fine. They promised. Then..." she choked back another sob, and William wrapped his arms around her. "I, uh, I came home and she was... she was lying on the couch. She was c-c-cold and..."

"Oh, sweetness," William murmured into her hair. "'M so sorry, pet, that must've been so awful for you."

"I miss her so much!" Buffy wailed. William rocked her back and forth, as the tears began pouring again. "Everything's awful without her!"

William whispered sweet nonsense into her ear as he held her and let her cry it out. He rubbed her back, squeezed her tight, called her pet, called her love and sweetness and kitten. Finally, he ran out of words, and simply held her close until her tears ceased. He helped her clean her face again and then she crawled into his lap, her arms looped around his neck.

"Thank you," she said, her lips grazing the sensitive skin above his collarbone. "I guess I needed that." She yawned and laid her head down on his shoulder. William craned his neck to see her face. Her eyes slipped closed and her body relaxed against him. She was asleep, he realized, and he noted again the dark circles under her eyes. He stood up carefully, not wanting to disturb her. He carried her to the bedroom and laid her down gently. After removing her sneakers and covering her with a light blanket, he picked up a pillow and turned to leave the room, intending to sleep on the couch.

"William," came Buffy's soft voice. He turned to her. "Would you, please, would you stay with me? Would you just hold me?"

He nodded silently, not quite trusting himself to speak. The moment he laid down next to her, she curled herself around him, resting her head on his chest. He dropped a soft kiss on her hair and was soon lulled to sleep by the warmth of her body and the sound of her even breathing.

She was gone in the morning. A folded piece of paper lay on the pillow next to him. He opened it. The words "thank you" were scrawled across the page and at the bottom, she had pressed a lipstick kiss. William smiled and pressed his lips to the imprint of hers.





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