Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Forty

The town was positively magical at night. Whether in respect to a first-timer's impressions or simply in falling with the synchronicity that had somehow brought them together, she was completely enveloped. Not a question went unanswered, not a shortcoming unfinished. For endless hours they walked the streets, arms linked, admiring the sights that he had likely beheld time and time again. He humored her continual questioning, answered every query with thorough account that arose in conversation.

"Ripper firs' saw me over there," William observed, pointing to the ever-familiar café. "Bloody good coffee."

"Coffee?"

"Well..." With a grin, he shook the sack of goodies dangling off their coupled arms. "With the right additives, o'course."

Buffy's brows perked. She decided not to mention the meditation she had toyed with that very concept. "Blood flavored coffee?"

"Don' knock it jus' yet. 'S damn good stuff, Slayer."

There was enough evidence to support the contrary, but still the prospect of willfully consuming the essence of any living creature was a notion categorized infinitely in the 'yuck' factor. When she drank, there wasn't anything in the world that tasted better, but outside the knowledge that it was needed for survival, the thought was one she preferred to ignore.

If William registered her displacement, he wisely refrained from commenting. "Come 'ere luv," he said, tugging gently on her arm. "Sit down an' I'll fix yeh up."

He disappeared for briefly and returned with two steaming cups of newly brewed stimulant. The scent of fresh blood also wafted suspiciously in the air.

"Drink up," he instructed. "You'll feel better."

Buffy's eyes narrowed skeptically. "You know, Will..." She tapped the side of her nose informatively.

At that, he grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "Jus' try it."

"Well, I have to now," she replied, raising the cup to her lips. "My tummy's growling."

William took a swig of his own, a look of unadulterated bliss overcoming his features. "Mmm... never get tired of that stuff," he observed. "'S been sorely missed. Go on, Slayer. Nothin' wrong with a lil taste."

It was admittedly the best flavor she had ever had the good fortune to sample. Naturally, she would never tell him that.

"I used to sit 'ere an' watch people," he said a few minutes later, stare lost in the swirling mass of crimson-tainted russet infusion settled before him. "All the bloody time. Found the best inspiration for all those ruddy poems I jotted down. Jus' lookin' all the sodding emotions that people let rule their lives. The very root of humanity, luv. I'd never seen anythin' like it before. I'd ripped well enough apart back in the day, but I never stopped just to watch." When it appeared that was all he had to say, Buffy implored him silently to continue. It was simply riveting listening to him speak - observing the world through newborn eyes of an aged personality with knowing perception. "They din't know, you see. None of 'em ever stopped an' realized that what they were fuckin' up was the one chance at perfection any of 'em would ever know. I've lived a hundred lifetimes an' I've made some bloody stupid mistakes. Din't learn a whole lot, o'course, but it wasn' necessary. Not at first. I could make the same choices over an' over again an' it din't matter, 'cause I 'ad forever to get it right, assumin' a stake never found 's way near me." At that, he glanced up and locked gazes. "An' tha's the important thing, luv. Tha's what you gotta remember to get through every day. You might have mucked things up, but you got forever to make it better."

The Slayer pursed her lips. "In case I get staked or something. God, I never-"

"I won' let that 'appen. 'Sides, you're souly girl. You won' be out there causin' new the Chosen bird all kinds 'f hell. Fact, I'd bet you'd be right appreciated in that department. Trainer of the next generation, an' what all." At that, he drifted away thoughtfully. "'Ey, ever think of that? I mean, not as in a forever thing, but-"

"Make the transition from Slayer to Watcher?" she replied cynically. "I want out of it all, Will. You don't get that-"

"Yeh, I do. But you said it yourself, kitten. 'S not possible for you to turn your back to it. You're addicted. You need the power like you need blood. Like your friends need air." He sighed. "You made the decision a long time ago. Ripper told me all 'bout it. What 'appened when those wankers in the Council decided to test you based on brains 'stead of brawn. You couldn't jus' be Buffy. You needed to be the Slayer. You are the Slayer. I don' think any's faced the rotten load you 'ave."

There was menacing truth behind his words, not by intent rather for the simplicity of comprehension. She knew everything he said was accurate - it reflected the root of her fears with stunning practicality. "I can't let this be it," she cried emptily. "I can't-"

"I'm not sayin' it is," William said softly. And he was right. It was merely a suggestion. "An' really, luv, 'f you know you can't jus' watch from the sidelines for the rest of time, I'd say 's the best bet."

She hated that he could be so insightful when she still doubted herself.

Things fell silent for a long, weighty moment.

"Will?"

"Yeh?"

"Were you happy here?"

He arched a brow and placed his coffee cup on the table. "Whaddya aimin' at?"

"I mean it. Were you happy? Before Xander called about the black blood and the impending apocalypse. You liked it here, didn't you?"

"I settled. There's a difference."

"But you were happy."

"You mean could I figure sittin' 'round here for the rest of my unlife, lookin' in dusty books, worryin' my arse off 'bout the lot of you while knowin' I'd never see a one of you again?" She nodded, offering no softening quality to his summary. William sighed once more. "I told you already... I was at the library 'cause I couldn't be where I really wanted. But... yeh. I was happy, I guess. In my own way. Books an' the like were what I did back in the pre-sired days."

Buffy nodded again, combing her hand through her hair. "Answer me honestly then. Please."

"What?"

"Do... do you want to stay here? After all's said and done. When we get back from Africa and everything's taken care of, is this where you want to be?"

A frown beset his face, and he shook his head dismissively, reclaiming his drink and indulging a long drink. "Don' play that angle, pet. I've told you enough; I wanna be where you are."

"I know that. What if I stayed here, too?"

That prompted the response of a lifetime; William coughed loudly and lurched forward, releasing a mouthful of coffee back into the cup. Reaction immediate; the Slayer burst out laughing, attracting inquiring gazes from all convenient proximities. Recovery time was sufficient and appreciated. Rumbles of mirth shook her small frame for long minutes - she had not had genuine reason to express such amusement in what felt like years.

"Why the bloody hell would you want to stay 'ere?" the platinum vampire demanded when he regained control of himself. "All your family's on the other side of the planet. What-"

"Yeah. In Sunnydale. On the Hellmouth. Where I am and always will be the Slayer. Will, what if we just... stayed here? I could go back and get Dawn, and we-"

"Pull the Nibblet outta schoolin' so she can move to a foreign country, thousands of miles from her friends?"

"Hell-o. She did just graduate."

"An' you jus' figure you'll pop her by Oxford, is that it?"

Buffy grumbled and rolled her eyes. "Listen, Dawn's eighteen years old. She'll be nineteen soon. She has her own life that she needs to take control over. When I was her age, I'd already survived three apocalypses. With everything that she's been through, I know she can take care of herself. She has Will and Xander there to hold her hand. I love her more than... anything on the face of the planet. But that doesn't mean I can sit there and watch... she's mortal..."

"This thing's gonna force you to make some bloody hard decisions," William observed understandingly. "I can't imagine takin' you away from 'er."

"I can't imagine being away from her. I know she can take care of herself... I just said that, but I know it. And even then, when something bad happens, my first instinct is to make sure she's all right."

"You're her big sis."

"And I have to make some decisions that she'll have to respect. I love her. I love Willow, and Xander, and hell, even Anya. But..." She sniffed and looked down. "They're not going to be here forever. You will. If I have anything to say about it, you will. I can't expect you to abandon everything you've done here, everything you've established with your future in mind."

He rolled his eyes. "How many times to do I 'ave to tell you, pet? I don' need this. I don' need any of it. Everythin' I want, everythin' I've ever wanted 's right 'ere in front of me."

At that, she smiled, breaking eye contact in a mixture of heartfelt warmth and aggravation. "But you'd rather be here with me than in Sunnydale. Please just admit that much."

The hint of unspoken challenge in her tone drew their gazes to a mutual standing once more, and he sighed and conceded. "Sure, luv. 'F tha's what you need to hear, fine. Yeh. I like it 'ere. Feel important an' respectable. But none of that matters to me 'f I-"

"Let me make one sacrifice. Please." All possible counters to logicality immediately drown when he noted the seriousness in her eyes. "Will, you're doing everything here. I know it'll be hard, but I think when everything's considered that it's for the best. Besides, you have a decent job here, something I can't vouch for back in Sunnydale. You have connections and... I like it. I really do; I like it here. I don't really want to... but this could... I could..."

"But Dawn-"

"Yeah. Dawn. I'd want..." Buffy's vision blurred with the looming knowledge of imminent decision-making. Reasoning settled behind an otherwise unreasonable frontage, and a breath of lackluster acknowledgement hissed through her lips. "But either way... in the long run... I'll leave her, or she'll leave me. The longer I stay, the harder it gets. You said the same about me, remember? I didn't understand that until now."

William smiled forbiddingly. "Tha's the way it always is. What's that sayin'? 'Never know how someone feels until you've walked a mile in their shoes'? You've done more than that, luv. You've won the bloody marathon."

"And I get it now," she agreed. "And Dawn... she won't. I know she won't. But that won't convince her to come with me, and I can't force her to do something against her will. Not now. She's not helpless anymore, and at some point, she's going to have to realize that. I've taught her everything I know, and for someone who isn't a slayer, she comes pretty damn close to meeting the requirements. Up until the recent, she was my most valuable second." When his eyes narrowed in repose, she settled back to verify. "I didn't know Willow was still practicing."

"An' what 'f Nibblet decides to come along for the ride?" the peroxide vampire replied.

"Then she does. I'd be thrilled to have her here. You know how much she means to me."

He chuckled humorlessly. "You won' be able to do it, pet. You can't stay away from the girl, or the Hellmouth on that note. You worry too much for her. Sounds fancied up an' all, but 's the soddin' truth. You love 'er too much. Vamps aren't s'posed to go gray with worry, an' I figure you'd be lookin' 'bout Peaches's age within two weeks."

"Gee, thanks." With an indignant huff, Buffy rolled her eyes. "Ye of little faith."

"'S not a bad thing. Not at all. 'S what makes you... well, you."

The Slayer leaned forward meaningfully, and without direct affirmation, he understood they were nearing the brink of no return. "Listen," she said. "I want you to call that Hawkins guy back. Tomorrow, right after you get up. This is important to you, Will. A part of being in a relationship means making sacrifices for each other. You've already made the biggest; I can't ask anymore than that."

"I made the biggest?" he repeated skeptically. "When the bloody hell'd I become a sodding paradigm?"

She blinked. "A what?"

"Example. Role model. Whatever." William paused as though only catching up with his wording. "Bloody Ripper..."

The look of bewilderment melted into triumph, as though having just struck the end all of riches. "See! You see there! You and your Giles-influenced vocab are secretly dancing in dorky joy at the thought of staying. You said you'd rather be here than in Sunnydale-Spike, let me do that for you."

"Buff-"

"It'd be better. Things have changed. I can't stay there and save the world all the time. I can't stay there and watch all my friends grow old... not when... Just think about it. It's not like I'll be completely out of reach. I mean, just a phone call and bam! Slayer Central."

There was ironic reasoning behind her judgment, but the better part of him tugged to turn the corner in rejection. It was the look in her eyes that did him in; that wrought fortitude, so fierce and determined, even with everything she had put herself through. With everything she had endured.

A sigh tugged at William's throat in weary concession. "Don' go 'bout changin' your mind then, luv," he warned. "'F I call those prats an' they gimme my job, I don' want to 'ave to quit a third time."

"What do you mean if they give you the job back?" Buffy replied cynically. "You know these people better than I do and even I could tell that the professor was sad to see you go. Will, you're not going to have any trouble whatsoever."

"Well, I know that, don' I?" He growled and looked down. "I jus' don' fancy the idea of takin' you away from your sis. You're needed-"

"You're not taking me away. I'm going. If she comes with, all the better, but she has a life to live, too." The Slayer expelled a breath. "If Dawnie knows what's good for her, she'll go to some boring little town called Springfield - cause let's face it, they're everywhere - and go to a boring state college, meet a boring average-joe student, fall madly in love and have dozens of boring yet adorable kids, who will never need to find out that their aunt is a vampire or that the monsters under their beds are actually... well... monsters. She doesn't want to stay at the Hellmouth anymore than I do." Conviction was firm and wavered only a little; she knew as well as he did that living at a distance from her sister, whom she had given more than her life to defend on multiple occasions, would be an obstacle not easy to overcome. However, there was sense behind her words. Sense that would come into understanding as time wore on.

Time: the old bald cheater.

William met her eyes with conclusiveness and granted her a nod. "I can't stop you from stayin' 'ere, 'f that's what you want," he acknowledged. "This... 's jus' so much. I never thought... I lived here a good while, you know. Not so horribly long, but long enough to get attached. When Ripper an' I left, I... there was no way anyone coulda prepared. Gettin' back here was all I wanted to do. I never thought you'd come back with me. Never." He laughed in humorless irony. "I was jus' thinkin' it'd be a miracle 'f you din't stake me on sight."

A line formed at the Slayer's mouth, poignant and laced with discernment. "A lot has changed."

To that he had no rejoinder. There was nothing to do but agree.

They endured two rounds of refills before the coffee taste ran bitter with familiarity. The night was young by vampiric standards, but Buffy was still exhausted from the trip and in mid-process of adjusting to the time difference. William indulged her for a final hour of touring before suggesting wisely that they retire.

"There are so many places to go," he said as they paced steadily back to the library. "An' after all's said an' done, we 'ave forever to explore 'em, luv. You've never been to Paris, 'ave you? That was a favorite of Dru's. Granted, a lil artsy fartsy for my taste, but it grows on you. I can't begin to list all the places I've been... you want to see the Great Wall, kitten? We'll hop on over there an' call it research."

She grinned gravely. "I'm sure your management would just love that."

"Eh, sod 'em. Like you said: they like me enough to let me come an' go as I please, 's long as I get the job done. And really, pet, what exactly 's there to that job?" There was a positively charged air about him. Lively - excited. He would never say it, of course, but she knew the prospect of staying was like receiving an early Christmas. No one could watch his disposition and not see how much he loved it here. The pain consuming her heart was soothed all for the sight of his reaction. Personal sacrifices were the pinnacle of expressing love. She knew she had done the right thing. "Show up every now an' then, make sure the place's still there, answer a few frilly questions from the students that pop by, give 'em a good thesis topic, an' send 'em on their merry way."

The Slayer grinned and took his hand, pleased with herself. It was the empty gratitude that came with the promise of a good solution - the sort that would consequentially not reveal its bearings for years to come. "This is a good plan," she said solidly. "It won't be easy."

His grip on her hand tightened. "We've been over this, pet."

"Yeah, and we're going to go over it a thousand more times." A high pitch of strangled sentiment. "You're being patient with me, I know. And I know you've been here, and that the... but... Will, I'm terrified."

"Of what?"

"What I turned into." Instinctively, she leaned closer to him, seeking friction and comfort. "Before... I've told Giles this already but I don't think he got it. Before I jumped through the Gate, I attacked the Master with such... hostility. It scared me. I was scared then and then... I turned into that thing. I'm so scared that... I mean, you have told me that... what did you call me? Por...?"

"Porphyria," William answered hurriedly. "Porphy for Harris. 'E couldn't remember 'alf the time."

"Yeah. You said she wasn't me at all. But... she's in me. The demon's still there... it's just shut out. What I did before I jumped was... I tore him apart."

"'E deserved it, luv."

"No one deserves that."

The peroxide vampire's face hardened resolutely. "That bastard killed you. 'E made you into what you hate more than anythin' in the world, an' 'e used your sis to do it. 'E was gonna use you to end civilization as we know it. Trust me, what happened was definitely of the deserved."

"Spike-"

"No. Listen to me. 'F that thing 'ad let me close, I woulda ripped 'im limb from limb myself. Soul or no soul, 'e brassed me off in a way..." William stopped suddenly before they reached the foot of the library entrance. Instinctively, his free hand went to caress her face, touch aching with such tenderness that it took her figurative breath away. "I woulda 'ad a decent party, too. A demon's a demon, luv. Yours was jus' achin' for a good brawl."

Buffy's eyes dropped and she attempted futilely to move out of reach. "Yeah, well. It got one."

"Never again."

She grew shrill with a note of desperation. "But what if this demon doesn't make the deal? What if he's like, 'Oh, you're already soul-girl. No more soul for you!' What if he's a big soul Nazi?"

He grinned at her analogy in spite of himself. "He won't. We won' leave Africa unless you got yours back in full. Right?" The look in his eyes was fashioned with determination: the sort that would never let her down. With a half-smile, she nodded in acceptance, moving to push the door open.

"'S been a helluva ride, 'asn't it?" William observed as they stepped inside. It was difficult not to fall directly into habit and hopscotch across the foyer, regardless of the darkness. "You wantin' to hit it?"

Buffy's brows domed inquisitively. "Hit it?"

"The sack. Hit the sack."

"No. Not yet." She fought off a yawn. "It feels early somehow. I'm tired but I don't think I could sleep. I suppose, you being you, that there's a TV around here."

For the briefest instant, though she had said nothing to indicate such a conclusion, he looked morally affronted at the suggestion that he would inhabit any location that lacked a working telly. "'Course, pet," he assured her. "Even has cable an' everythin'. The whole bloody works. Anythin' particular you fancy watchin'?"

"Let's just see what's on." William wheeled the television out of the curator's office and positioned it before one of the tables that was indefinitely swept clean for their convenience. "Hopefully some infomercials... it'll make me sleepy real quick."

"There's that music channel," he suggested, flicking off the lights as the glow of the small screen engulfed the room, despite its rather notable size. "Ripper an' I'd end the night on it in the way back when. 'E knew his stuff. Big Stones fan. Loved the Beatles, too."

"Sure. Who doesn't?"

He grinned sardonically. "Yeh, luv. But, like yours truly, 'e actually remembers 'em."

Admittedly, it had been a long time since Buffy had simply sat down to watch anything on the television. It was nice and cozy; had an air of familiarity that arrived with the same nurturing reassurance as mother's milk - a continuity that would always be there to fall back on.

William turned the dial to VH1 just in time to catch Brad Majors and Janet Weiss knocking on the door of a large castle on a notably dark and stormy night. The scene only looked vaguely recognizable, and she was about to request a change of channel when he erupted in amusement.

"Ah, perfect timin'. I'm assumin' you know how to do the dance, pet."

"Dance?"

He made a face of sheer horror. "Bloody hell, you've never seen this flick? Quite the hype back in the 70s. Still makes a bit of good noise from what I hear... depends on the circles you run in. Dru loved it. I bloody swear it was the only thing in creation wonkier than 'er. Made me see it a dozen times till I knew the full an' swore I'd never lay eyes on it again. Blokes dressed like birds 's where I draw the line."

"Then why are we watching it now?"

"Because I like the soddin' dance. 'S damn annoyin', but catchy an' once you get it stuck in your head for a decade, it tends to grow on you. Come 'ere, luv." Without awaiting invitation, he grasped her by the waist and pulled her back to him until she was resting against his chest. "Now, jus' do this with me. 'S fun, really. Dawn'd love it."

"You think Dawn would love a movie about-"

"Quiet. Here it goes."

The criminologist on screen had pulled down an overhead and was guiding his audience with an object-pointer. When the command was given, William's grasp on her waist firmed and he all but stumbled over with the enthusiastic jump to the left. He abandoned his post at the juncture of her hips to grasp her wrists, conducting her right leg with influence to take the indicated step. Then he directed her hands to her hips and murmured to bring her knees in tight.

"This 'ere's the fun part," he whispered, tickling her ear with his deep baritone.

The pelvic thrust; sure to drive them insane. Buffy rocked along with him, the focus of his manhood nudging her intimately, though it was not intentional. Their proximity had obviously not gone unnoticed by him, though he was tempered enough to keep the situation under control. A long, neglected moan escaped her lips and it was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling when he released hold.

"Break?" he suggested, perhaps a bit tense. "That bird has a bloody annoyin' solo comin' up. Then we'll give it another go."

She thought he meant to let her attempt the Time Warp unaided, but once the vocalist completed her number - a verse that sounded oddly like a female chipmunk on helium - he stepped behind her once more and grasped her around the middle. The criminologist shouted the first dance move, and she was irrefutably lost by the time the conclusive step instigated. They were drawn together like magnets - unable to keep apart.

The first was delicate and not beyond exploring. How his lips had neared so quickly, she would never know. All she grasped was that reasonable thought had escaped her and she felt him stir. At her ear at first, whispering her name with some resignation. It sounded like surrender, and rang sweetly through her system until he dipped his head. Then she felt his lips on her, stroking her shoulder with light, feathery touches. Buffy tensed, leaning backward supportively, offering her mouth with little consequence. William's caresses became firmer, embellishing teeth and tongue, as though no longer unable to stop himself. His arms tautened their embrace, his mouth moving up her neck until he was unable to stand it anymore. Their need was the same, and he whirled her around to capture her lips. Another wave crashed, though the kiss was initially soft and exploratory, it gained zeal at escaping such lengthy suppression. The feel of his mouth against hers swiftly drained her of all fortitude, all resolve, anything that allowed her to do anything but kiss him back. When his tongue invaded her mouth, she swallowed a whimper, wondering distantly how she came to be here in the first place. It all seemed so long ago.

As though this was the first kiss in the bloom of a new relationship.

It was neither's fault, really. What felt like years had passed since they last touched in any form that would define them as lovers. His mouth swallowed her without waiting permission. A moan of encouragement and she was lost. They stumbled, jerked, and ultimately fell back onto the table. The film played on but neither heard it; too lost were they in the indubitable sensation that was each other. The long denied waves of crimson passion crashed against an otherwise stationary beach, splashing with endless joy as they sought the other out. Searching and exploring as though it was the first time. William poised delicately above her, his hands and mouth everywhere, unable to help himself. Her legs wrapped around his waist and pulled down demandingly, seeking friction in the heat of need.

Then the world came crashing down with all its subliminal realization, and at the same minute, they both paused in attentions, drawing upward to share a look of weary understanding.

She didn't know she was crying until she sobbed, then tried desperately to spool her emotions in. Pandora's Box. Safe. Secure. It seemed they sat there forever, looking at each other under the light of the same dismal knowledge. William reached to draw her tears away, leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead, and with notable reluctance, sat up.

"'m sorry," he choked when he found his voice. "Oh God. I shouldn't 'ave... Buffy, I-"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Will." Her voice was as distant as his, sniffing to reel in another wave of tears. "There's plenty of time for that... I just..." And then she couldn't help it. Resignedly, surrendered to her tears, leaning forward to rest against his shoulder. Without direction, his arms came around her. The burden of comfortless comfort.

"We'll fix things, luv," he promised, cradling her trembling body against him. "Come on. We should prolly get to sleep. Big day tomorrow, you know."

There was no immediate reply. Within her own good time, Buffy withdrew from his embrace and nodded. "Sleep. Right."

The upper level was dark and consoling. No words were exchanged as they readied themselves for an evening's rest. The shadows comfortingly prevented any unchristian glimpses at what they couldn't have. What was denied until the ordeal was over. What she needed for the sake of reassurance, however empty, now more than ever.

What she could not ask for.

They settled next to each other out of habit; her back spooled against his chest. Perhaps just as absently, he reached for her, nothing of intimate insinuation, rather a method to convince his still-doubtful conscious that she was there beside him. And despite all logistics in reasoning, thoughts of abandonment consumed her. She was so afraid of losing this that she didn't want to sleep. If there was to be the day when she found herself alone, Buffy wanted her mind full enough of memories to last forever.

It was difficult not to conclude such fears with the past she was trying to put behind her.

I love you, she admitted to the void, where he could not answer. I finally understand. I finally confessed. And now that it's almost over, I'm terrified. I never get what... just please tell me I won't lose you for it.

Not when it's almost over.

William tugged her nearer, silently answering her unspoken request. His teeth nipped at her ear, and he nuzzled her hair amorously. When she was convinced that, at least for the minute, he was not going anywhere - that when she awoke he would be exactly where he was now - she relaxed. He was there. He was always there. Beside her. Comforting her.

Why these idle concerns suddenly manifested into corporeal worries, she did not know. The feeling was tight, constrictive, and uncomfortable. She didn't like it.

Then out of nowhere, he answered her. He opened his mouth and said it. Releasing a burden of shortcomings, as though the weight of the world was finally relieved of his shoulders. The words she had been longing to hear since that night so long ago in the graveyard when more than one confession was made. When she had revealed the cindered burnings of her broken heart, crumpled into ash and steadfastly fell outside the realm of anything that could ever be considered normal.

"There's one thing, luv," he murmured, pulling her close. "I 'aven't been fair to you. I've been avoidin' it for so long... tellin' all the wrong people but never you. Never who needed to... It doesn' matter now. Not anymore. You've... I have to say it. I've tried not to, but I... God help me, I love you so much. An' we'll get through this. I promise. 'F it's the last bloody thing I do, I'll get you through this."

There was a profuse difference between knowledge and substantiation. A whole world was built on theory. The understanding that his guilt and grief would forever keep him from expressing anything into materialism. She had known this.

The revelation came so flippantly that she lent pause for a moment, partly convinced the words were nonexistent; materialized from her own concerns and wary convictions. A song she had memorized, practically written. A tune she hummed daily, rehearsing for the single minute in which she might be reimbursed. And her eyes clouded with tears, whether by suggestion or foreknowledge, she was not sure. She was crying without feasible provocation.

He waited as she calmed, holding her tightly to him in a blanket of everlasting warmth. When her vision returned, Buffy forced herself to face it and twisted in his arms to meet his gaze. What she saw nearly took her breath away. Shimmers of compassion, sincerity, kindness and... hope.

And just like that, her resolve crumpled. Her breathing hitched and her already-cold body numbed, her eyes imploring his, peeling away the layers, hoping desperately that she wasn't seeing just what she wanted to see. The Slayer had never known herself to conjure something simply out of desire, and did not want to start now. Not when the collateral was this robust.

And then every doubt was whisked away. Slowly, William lowered his head to her neck where he nuzzled gently, and the words came again, deliberate, and she knew she was not dreaming. "'m sorry, luv. I tried an' I... Buffy... I can't... I love you so bloody much it kills me."

Those were his words. They were of his origin, his construction, and he was saying them now. To her. He loved her. She had always known it, but now it was certain. Now there was no room to doubt. No need to question the future. He loved her, and that was all that mattered.

The burden of release. Buffy felt herself dissolve into tears. With a sudden surge of energy, she shot forward, forcing him up and clasping him tightly, holding him to her, refusing to let go. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, unsuccessfully trying to muffle her cries, quivering with discharge. Every fiber of her being burst with glorious liberation.

It was the highest state of contentment she had known since he came back into her life. Pure in all its form. A true sign that the future was theirs, really theirs, and that...

The Slayer cried out suddenly in a flash of fresh pain, and her head fell back, hand reaching instantaneously to clutch his arm in support. "Will!" she gasped. "Oh, God, it's coming. It's-"

The love in his eyes intensified if possible, battling age-old concern as he leapt forward, grasping her before she lost balance. "Buffy..."

"Will... Spike..." She keeled forward, howling her anguish. "Oh God, oh God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! It's... here it comes, here it comes-"

William leaned forward in extended panic. A dull awareness had settled behind a knowing gaze, and his vision blurred with tears. "No, luv. Hold on. I... I din't-"

"Do something!" She fell back in affect, stumbling away from the bed and onto the floor, arms bracing her plummet. Her skin scraped roughly against the nightstand and she hissed in pain. "Angel's... the-"

When he kneeled beside her, his face was a washboard of sorrow and penance. She broke at the visage and sobbed, unable to do anything but indicate the drawer. Inside was the cross her first love had given her a lifetime ago, cased protectively where she had kept it in her pocket all through the flight. Closed as not to sear her skin. Brought as a good luck charm.

The last was coming. William understood without direction. She pulled her hair out of the way and allowed the clasp to fix behind her neck. The sacred emblem burned with the impact of a thousand flames, and while her will begged a complete collapse in fortitude, she would not allow it. Not now.

"God, Will," she gasped. "I love you so much. I'm sorry I couldn't hold on. Forgive me. Forgive me. I'm so-"

She lurched forward and screamed. Words tore from her throat beyond comprehensibility. She couldn't see or feel - engulfed only in the sensation of being ripped from herself.

It was fortunate that she could not see the smile that broke across her face before her lover could pull away. Before she looked into his eyes again and knew. Before the lasting affect of her one moment of happiness seeped in for all its horrid reality.

The world was an ugly place.

And just like that, she was gone.

 

Continue

Author's Note: First things first... I'm a big RHPS buff, if you couldn't tell. I made the mistake of listening to the soundtrack while writing this chapter... and, well, what can I say? Stuff happens.

I'd also like to note that since beginning the story, I've changed very few obstacles from the original outline. Buffy's transition at the end of this chapter is vital to the conclusion - (yes, kiddies, it is coming soon). Furthermore, I felt it imperative to address the issue of true happiness. This has been a debate in my circle of Buffy-fanatics for some time. I hope that came across.

Other than that, my thanks to everyone who has been patient and followed along the tale far. As my first BtVS fic, the support I've received means more than you can imagine.