The wind acrid was dry, a coiling heat that spread through the air and settled in waves over the barren wasteland. Cacti and dried up bushes where scattered over the rolling desert, and beads of sweat lined the brow of the golden girl splayed on the edge of a black DeSoto.

Sun glasses provided no refuge from the blinding light of the sun, and the boiling hot metal underneath her was burning her skin. But still, she never moved. Never shifted, never flinched, never did anything. She just lay on the hood of her lovers car, and waited. And waited and waited, and then she'd wait some more.

The people in town called her crazy. Said that she had no reason to wait for something that wasn't there. He's not coming back, you know, they said. It's time to move on. Stop living in dream and get back to life. But they didn't understand. And really, she couldn't blame them. It wasn't like she had explained to her friends and family why she was so set on waiting. It was baffling to them, especially having witnessed the anger and the rage that she'd exhibited when he'd left in the first place.

No one had known what to think when the man who'd dedicated his life to their golden girl just up and disappeared. It had rained that morning, when she'd woken and found herself alone in bed. There had been no note, no message on the answering machine, no nothing. If his clothes hadn't been all over their bedroom floor, she'd have sworn he'd never existed in the first place.

And she had been angry. She'd found old photo's and torn them in half, separating his image from hers. She'd cried for days, and her friends had become terrified of even spending time with her, because there was never any way of telling just what would set her off. So she'd screamed and ranted and raved and sobbed, and promised herself to never love another man again.

It wasn't to long after, that she'd found his old leather journal. She'd felt desolate and tired, so she opened the book and read to her hearts content. And as she'd read, she'd laughed. She had cried, she had smiled, and she had remembered what it meant to fall in love and live like you'd never see another day again.

He'd always written her letters in his journal, and he'd complain and whine and growl when she tried to grab his book to read them. But then she'd pout and smile and cuddle up to him, and she'd nuzzle his neck with her nose and she'd tell him she loved him. She would say all right, then. If he really didn't want her to see it, then she wouldn't push, because she trusted him.

Then he would always smile, because he was so fond of her, this golden girl who had crashed into his life and stolen his heart. He would sigh, and run his fingers through her hair, pet her like she was a tiny little thing, and they would enjoy the quiet. And he would open up his leather journal, and he'd read her his letter, and she'd smile and read along in her head as his voice carried the words into her ears.

It had been about three quarters of the way in that she'd found the view changing letter. She could remember the cadence and the timber of his voice as he'd read it to her, like it was only yesterday. How he'd promise to love her, always. That no matter what, nothing and no one could ever change the beauty he saw in her. And if something ever happened, and he had to go away, for whatever reason, he would always find his way back to her, because she was home. She was home, and a man always needed that one place he could really belong.

It had only then occurred to her that he'd left his beloved black DeSoto. His life revolved around that car. And she was okay with that, because she loved watching him work on his car all most as much as he loved having her watch. His famous black DeSoto was still there, so it was only his beat up old motorcycle that was gone.

So was his duster, the one she'd gotten him for his 21st birthday. It was a senseless piece of clothing to wear in a place that was only cold at 82 degrees, but she hadn't cared, and he'd loved it to pieces. He'd wear it and he'd sweat, but then he'd put it on her just to watch her strut around in his clothes so they'd smell like her. So she could smell like him. And she was okay with that. Hell, she'd put on mini fashion shows and twirled and danced for him in that same duster, just to make him laugh. And he'd always laugh, because she really was just the sweetest thing, and he'd pull her to him and they'd make love on nearest available surface.

So while he was gone, she'd gotten her act together. She'd cleaned up the shack, and she'd make all his favorite foods even though he wasn't there to eat them with her, and she'd set the coffee timer to six in the morning because he was an early riser. She did all of this, knowing he couldn't be there, but thinking he'd appreciate it because it meant she was thinking about him, which was all she ever did.

And when she was done with her shift at the diner, she drove out to the middle of the desert in the black DeSoto and she'd get out of the car in her white sundress, because he loved the way it brought out the golden hue of her skin. And when she got out, she'd sit on the hood of his famous black DeSoto and then she'd lay down with her big round sunglasses that really didn't block out the sun, and she'd wait. And wait, and wait, and then wait some more.

And it was on one of these waiting days that she heard the roar of an engine on the dirt road that lead to their place. She didn't sit up to see who it was, didn't move even though the black metal was burning her skin. Even when the roar died down and was cut off, she never moved. Just listened. Listened to the kick stand pop out to make sure the motorcycle didn't drop fall in place, listened to the steps that crunched the sand underneath what she knew to be black dock martins.

She just listened and smiled, and when a larger shadow then she expected covered her, she shifted then, to move the sunglasses off her face. And she laughed at his playful grin, because he had the duster covering his head to block the sun, and it worked a lot better then her silly sunglasses anyway.

"Hey, cutie." She was smiling still, as he moved on top of her, bracing himself on the hood of his car and nestling himself securely between her legs. "You miss me?"

"Didn't have to. I was just waiting for you." His grin became a smile then, something soft and sweet that she loved to see, and one of his hands came up to stroke the soft skin of her cheek. "Bout you? Miss me?"

"Course I did, silly bint." His grin was back when she giggled, and he braced himself again so he could lean down and stroke her cheek with his, because he really was so in love with her. "Always missed you. 'M sorry I was gone so long."

"S'okay." Her voice was quiet and her eyes where closed again, but that was all right. She could concentrate on the feel of him better. "Where'd you run off to for so long?"

"A city. Wanted to find something just right for my girl." His cheek left hers and her eyes opened again, watching him reach into his pocket to pull out a little plastic bag with a pretty ring inside. "Had to go talk to Da', see about getting Gram's ring." And it was a wonderful ring, she decided. A simple gold band with a medium-sized, cream colored pearl at the top, circled in diamonds.

"It's beautiful, Will." She giggled when he dove for her throat, kissing and nipping and all around making her smile. She could feel him grinning like a school-boy into her neck, and she twisted to kiss his temple as he braced himself up. He looked pleased as he took her hand, tearing the plastic bag with his teeth and taking out the ring. With a conspiratorial grin, he slid the band onto her finger, and entwined her fingers with his. "Perfect fit."

"Knew it would be." His smile was gentle then, and he pulled her up into his lap, hugging her close and just breathing her in. "'M gonna marry you, Buffy."

And she'd smiled, and got comfortable, because he was here for her to lean on. "Damn straight. Now we just have to explain to everyone." She'd laughed at his indignant pout, and she'd kissed him and wrapped her arms around him, because he was home. And he'd smiled and jumped off his car to spin her around and kiss her again, because she'd waited for him. Because, according to her, he'd still had a place to belong. And that was all that mattered.