Chapter 17:

Later they lay facing each other in bed, with only the moonlight shining in as their light. Buffy had told her parents she was going out with friends and would not be home that night . . . and it'd probably extend to the following night if William had any say. Currently they were clothed in their pj's. Course, William's pj's consisted of being shirtless, but that was fine as far as Buffy was concerned. Her boyfriend was pretty to look at.

Their heads on resting on their respective pillows, one arm curled under their pillows and their hands linked in the center, they just lay there, talking.

"Did you always want to be an attorney?" Buffy asked.

He smiled, "Yes. Mostly because I liked the idea of having power."

She giggled and rolled her eyes, "Why does that not surprise me? What did your parents do?"

"Well, my mum died when I was thirteen."

She squeezed his hand, "I'm sorry William."

He smiled, "Thanks."

"What was she like?"

"She was very kind and very patient…which she had to be dealing with my father."

"So he's difficult? Do you see him often?"

"When I take trips to England."

"Do you do that often?"

He chuckled, "You're just full of questions tonight."

She blushed slightly. "I want to know things about you Will."

"I'm teasing. I don't mind. I told you, you can ask me anything."

"So tell me about your Dad."

"He's an artist. What they would call a ‘starving' artist when my parents first got together and for a long time until after my mother passed away. They were living on the Dole, which isn't all that much until his art work took off."

"Oohh, an artist. Is that what made you take it up?"

"Yes and no. I fought against it for a long time. I saw how he struggled and how my mother took odd jobs to make ends meet. He was your typical temperamental artist."

"How long were your parents together before you were born?"

He grinned, "My mum was four months pregnant with me when they married. Before that, they'd been together for six months."

"Wow!" Buffy's eyes widened.

William smiled gently, "When you know, you know," he told her softly.

She averted her eyes to their joined hands and continued. "So, what sorts of jobs did she take up?"

"Mostly she took care of the kids in the neighborhood. She became a second mother of sorts to them."

"Did that make you jealous?"

"Little bit, I won't lie. She was a loved woman. She kept us upstanding citizens. My father was kind of a loner so he was barely seen out and about. He was always tucked away making his masterpieces."

"How did she die, Will?" Buffy asked softly.

"Aneurysm. My father and I had gone to an art gallery to see if they'd take his work and when we got home, she was on the floor in the kitchen…" his voice trailed off and Buffy squeezed his hand and kissed the top of it.

"I'm sorry, William. I won't ask you anymore if you don't want me to."

"It's okay, Buffy. It was a long time ago. It's just hard to relive it," he assured her.

"Had the gallery taken your fathers work?"

"No, and for a long time I blamed him for her death, thinking if we'd been there it wouldn't have happened."

"Did you ever tell him that?"

"Yes. I became quite the rebel in my teenage days."

"Oh?"

"We'll save that for another time," he chuckled.

Buffy pouted slightly and then when she saw he wasn't going to relent, she plowed ahead.

"So then what happened?"

William sighed, "Well, after that, he decided it was time to leave altogether and so we took up what little we had and moved here. It seemed the move was just what he needed for he was nabbed almost immediately here by a gallery. His prints are sold in a catalogue they put out, the originals now being in the London branch of the gallery he started out at here. When I started college, he moved back, setting me up financially from the money my mother had and the money he had earned from his work."

"Did he encourage you to be an attorney?"

"He did. He didn't want the same struggles for me that he had."

"When did you start painting?"

"While I was in law school."

She smiled, "You waited a long time huh?"

He chuckled, "I did. And when I started, I found it to be a release."

"Has your father seen your work?"

"He has seen a few the few times he's come up."

"What does he say about them?"

"He likes them. He tries to tell me that I could make it just like he did, but I but I guess I'm too chicken to try it. Plus, it's not important to me to be successful in my art. I do it for the release and the fun of it."

"So you really like being an attorney then?"

"I like it better than I did in the beginning," he said thoughtfully. "It took a lot of hard work to get where I am now. I'm in a good place now."

"So tell me about this rebel phase."

He grinned, "You won't let that go will you?"

"I'm like a dog with a bone, Will," she said and grinned cheekily.

He sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. "I'll do better than tell you. I have some photos." And he got up from the bed and went to his closet. Buffy sat up against the head board excitedly, pulling the covers up to her waist and waiting patiently for William to return.

When he returned with a thick black plain photo album, she grabbed for it immediately.


He swatted at her hands playfully, "Just hold on Grabby."

She giggled, "I'm excited. I want to see what you were like!"

He laughed and scooted in next to her, placing the album between their close knit bodies so that it rested on both their laps. He opened it and pointed to a photo of a bunch of teenagers wearing all black. Some had safety pins adorned on them somewhere, all of them wore black eyeliner and most wore leather as part of their black attire.

She stared at the picture, taking it in, thinking that she would probably run the other way if she saw a group of them in a dark alley. She quickly berated herself for being so close-minded, but basing it on looks alone, they did look menacing. In that particular picture they were poised outside on a park bench. Some poised on the bench seat, others on the back and a couple on the ground. None smiled.

"Where are you ---" then she stopped, having finally found him. She wouldn't have guessed his hair would be a slicked back shocking platinum blond. She gaped at him and brought the album closer, studying him. Black leather pants, black t-shirt, black duster and a silver necklace with black eyeliner.

"Will?"

"Yeah?" he sounded almost nervous. She looked up at him and was surprised to find him actually really nervous about her reaction. She grinned. "You're freaking hot, Will."

"Back then it was Spike."

"Spike?"

"It was a nickname I got."

"How?"

"Not sure exactly. Could have been my affinity for sharp objects."

She laughed, "Not at all scary. Do you still have that affinity?"

He shook his head, "No. After I got this," he pointed to the scar on his eyebrow, "I gave up playing with knives."

"Did you get in a knife fight?"

"Yeah, got in a fight with a friend who was at the time, drunk off his ass. I tried to take his keys and he swiped my own knife from me. He was a violent drunk. I tried to take it from him, we toppled to the ground and," he pointed to the scar again. "I decided after that I didn't need to carry one with me anymore."

"I don't know. . . you ever walk through Southie at night?"

William laughed, "All the time when I was in my rebel phase."

She smiled up at him, "So what can I do to get you to do your hair like that again?"

"You like that?" he balked.

"Yep, I do. Not that I don't love the way it is now though. . . Spike."

He grinned saucily. "Have to maintain appearances, luv. Not a punk anymore. I'm an upscale attorney now."

Buffy pouted, knowing it made him melt.

"Don't you start, little girl," he reprimanded her lightly, pointing at her. Then,

"How about I dress up for you some night instead and we go out? I still have the duster and still own mostly black."

She grinned, "Could you? I'll even dress up too. You can take me to your old haunts."

"I'd like that," he said softly, beaming at her.

"Now tell me about your friends. Have you kept in touch with any of them?"

"I haven't."

"Tell me about them and the kinds of things you did."

William launched into story telling of his past and Buffy listened intently, sucking up everything he told her. She'd learned from listening to his stories that he was quite a loyal friend. There was a sense of longing in his voice as he talked of his old friends and Buffy found herself encouraging him to look them up and reconnect. When the album had been gone through and put to the side of the bed, they snuggled back under the covers. Buffy's eyelids were heavy as William cradled her close in his arms, running a hand up and down her back.

"I like it when you tell me things," Buffy murmured sleepily, her eyes shutting.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know, Princess."

She smiled weakly, "Good. I want to know everything."

"I want to know everything about you too, Buffy."

"You already know everything."

"Not all of it. I want more."

"Okay. Not now. Sleep now."

"Good night, Buffy."

"Good night, Spike."

She heard him chuckle as she started to fade out fast, and she could have sworn she heard him whisper ‘I love you' just as she completely lost consciousness, but she wasn't sure.
 

Chapter 18:

Buffy woke up slowly, feeling very much that she should not be awake yet. For one, it wasn’t quite light yet; it had to be dawn for the orangey light that was peaking through William’s drapes. For another, she felt groggy and out of it.

Plus, the alarm clock on the nightstand that was placed on her side of the bed said it was five a.m.

Buffy rolled over, having the distinct feeling that she was alone and was looking for confirmation. She blinked in the semi darkness. Yep, William was not there.

She strained to hear if he was in the bathroom. Silence.

“Will?” she said, her voice thick with sleep. Curiosity and worry guiding her, Buffy threw the covers off her and got up. Padding down the hall, she made her way down the hall. Stepping into the living room, she found William sitting on the sofa with a huge pad of paper on his lap. He was holding what appeared to be a kohl pencil and his hand was moving furiously over the paper.

“Will?”

“Hi,” he said absently, his hand still moving, his eyes glued to the pad. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I woke up and you weren’t there . . . I wanted to come find you.”

He smiled, “That’s something then. I find I don’t sleep quite as well as I do when you’re with me. Funny how quickly that happened isn’t it?”

Buffy stepped forward slowly, “What are you doing?”

“Drawing you,” he said simply.

She stared at him in surprise. “What? Drawing me?”

He nodded, “Yep, you.”

“How? I mean, I’m not in here with you. Don’t I need to -- well, I guess not. That was a stupid question.”

“Not stupid. I’m drawing you from memory.”

“Which memory?”

He chuckled at that, “I have a lot of you, Princess, but this one in particular is when I woke up to use the bathroom. I looked back at you and you had taken all the covers, which accounted for why I woke up cold.”

She giggled.

“You were on your side and you were burrowed under them, your head nestled in the pillow and clutching the top of a blanket in your fist, holding it to your mouth.” He looked up at her, his eyes tender and bright. So much emotion was packed into that look that Buffy felt her knees weaken and her breath hitch. “You looked so peaceful, so adorable, I just had to draw you. Keep you with me, even when you’re not here.”

“Oh God,” Buffy whispered on a slight whimper. She hurled herself forward then and nearly lunged on top of him. He tossed the pencil and pad away, catching her in his arms and held her close as she straddled him and hugged him tightly.

“Kitten?”

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she whispered.

“Well, you’re only twenty. But, if I have my way, I’ll be the only one saying it to you for . . . for a very long, long time. Would you like that kitten?”

She nodded and squeezed him. Pulling away slightly to look at him, she kissed him softly, almost chastely. Almost. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair as he gazed up at her adoringly.

“Can I watch you?” she asked, “I want to see you at work.”

He nodded and smiled, “Sure. You can watch me.”

She slid to the side and positioned herself so that she sat next to him, her head on his shoulder. He picked up his pad and pencil and she gasped when she saw herself. “William, you’re so talented,you really and truly are.”

He blushed slightly, “Thank you. Now hush. Let me do this.”

She kissed his shoulder, “I’m watching.”

******************************************************************************


Buffy sat at her desk, thinking back on that day last week the following Friday afternoon. She had been working diligently and memories of being awoken by William carrying her back to bed had brought a smile to her face. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep on him; she really did find it amazing to watch him. It
was just so mesmerizing to watch and she’d been so tired. . . He hadn’t minded at all.
He’d merely placed her in bed and crawled in with her, wrapped his arms around her they’d fallen asleep together. Later, they’d gone to the Boston Aquarium and spent the day getting to know each other whilst watching the sea animals.

“Daydreaming is not productive,” Dru said, coming into Buffy’s office. She had her hair pinned back in
a tight bun, accentuating her high cheekbones and, to Buffy, her disapproving stares. Her dark eyes were currently boring into Buffy, and Buffy thought if she had a ruler in her hand, the look of uptightness
would be complete. Especially when coupled with the long pencil straight skirt and conservative blouse.

“Here we go,” Buffy muttered. “What is it you want Dru?”

Dru scowled at her, “I was looking for a file that Wesley and William have been working on, do you have it? It’s the Capello file.”

“I have it. It’s right there,” Buffy said pointing to the file at the corner of her desk. She smiled brightly, “Have a great day Dru.”

Dru narrowed her eyes and placed both her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“And that would be?”

“You know.”

“Pretend I’m dumb. Spell it out for me.”

“Pretend?” Dru let out a hysterical laugh that sent shivers up Buffy’s spine.

“What’s going on in here?” William was there, suddenly, in the doorway. He was looking from Buffy to Dru and back again, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Buffy just had a question,” Dru said lightly, standing up straight and beaming at William.

“Yes, I was. I was just asking Dru what it is I’m doing,” Buffy said, glaring at Drusilla.

Dru’s smile faltered and she looked at Buffy. “Whatever do you mean?”

Buffy sat back, “You said you knew what I was doing. I’m curious. What am I doing? Or rather, what is it you think I’m doing?” She knew she was probably in the wrong by airing it out in front of William—very unprofessional—but she just couldn’t take it anymore. The woman was a menace, hell bent on making her work like hell; and Buffy had a sneaking suspicion it was because Dru knew she and William were chummy. Just how chummy they were, she didn’t need to know.

William stood there, arms folded, watching Drusilla expectantly, an eyebrow raised.

“I’ll be going back to work now,” Dru mumbled.

“Yeah, you do that,” Buffy called after her. Dru nearly slammed the door shut on her way out.

“God, I can’t stand her,” Buffy said, jumping up from her chair.

“Will you let me talk to her?”

Buffy sighed heavily, “I don’t know. I think that might have scared her off. I hope anyway.” She pointed at him, “She’s going to pull one of those ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ moves. Just wait.”

William chuckled.

“I’m serious! She’s crazy.”

William sauntered over and pulled her into his arms. “We all set for tonight, my love?”

Buffy nodded, letting her anger go slowly. “Yep.”

“I’m very curious to see this outfit, luv. You’ve been very secretive about it.”

She smiled up at him; “I think I’ll make you proud. I’m going to look like an original punk princess.”

He grinned and leaned in, kissing her chastely. “Then after you’ll come home with me?” he asked hopefully.

“Like you have to ask,” Buffy said, swatting him playfully.

He pecked her nose, “I can’t wait.”

She grinned, “Me neither.”
 

Chapter 19:

He was a man lost he decided. Just the simple act of her arriving at his apartment to get ready for their night out, with her cheeks flushed from the cool air outside and even with the black winter hat on her head; and her smile, God her smile . . . She called to him, beckoned him. The primal male in him said "Mine."

And all she did was enter his apartment.

He knew he had to be really under it when simple things made his heart swell.

"I'll take the bathroom," she told him and started on her way. He grabbed her and pulled her to him before she could get too far. He kissed her hard and thoroughly, assuaging the primal male in him that wanted to stake its claim on her.

He left her breathless with his passion and he couldn't help the surge of male pride. "I missed you," he said softly.

"You just saw me a few hours ago."

He shrugged, "Can't seem to get enough of you kitten. If I had my way, you'd never leave."

She ignored that comment and he kicked himself for coming on too strong; and he had if the sudden distant look in her eye said anything. He swatted her bum and grinned rakishly, "Go ahead. I'm gonna get ready too."

She nodded, grinned, and went on her merry way.

He sighed heavily and headed to his room. He felt . . . tense. He felt as if something inside him was desperately trying to claw its way out of him and everytime he shoved it down, it just howled and clawed all the more.

It was his love for her. His desperate, growing by the day, unyielding, all-encompassing, possessive love for her. He'd told her was falling only because he didn't want to frighten her. He'd gone way beyond falling. He'd fallen already. Hard. He was on his ass gazing up at her, reaching for her and she was standing a few feet from him with a hand out. There, but not quite . . . there. And it was that not quite . . . thereness? That frightened him.

The whole pregnancy scare had keyed him into how not ready she was to realize the full extent of his devotion. He'd gotten a glimpse of a future with Buffy that day; a future in which they had a little girl that was a mixture of them. But mostly Buffy. A little Buffy running around, tugging on his pants, calling him 'Daddy' and then he'd seen Buffy, pregnant with his child, and a house, a house with a yard and a swing set. He'd seen it all and ached to reach out and grab it. But she'd taken the idea and shoved it away forcefully with both hands.

From her perspective he could understand. She was young and she was still in school. She had goals and wanted to meet them. She saw it as a kind of death for her to have children at this point in her life. She didn't see that there were ways to work it out and that she wouldn't be alone in it. She'd have him with her every step of the way to support her in school--hell he'd hire a damn tutor if that helped. He'd have done anything to make it as easy and as comfortable for her.

In him, she had a willing slave. And she didn't have a clue about it.

He felt a distance between them at times, felt as if she were pulling away and it scared him. Made him feel desperate. He did not like that feeling at all. It didn't sit well with him. He could honestly say that it was all her that brought it out in him. Not even his first love, Isabel, had made him feel the same kind of desperation he felt with Buffy. It made him hold on to her tighter and, he feared, that would drive her from him if he wasn't careful. So he tempered it as best he could. Tried to let her guide them until she was sure of him, of herself, of them.

Tonight served to do just that. It was a testament to him that Buffy indeed want to be sure of them. She was eager to enter his world and let him be the guide. Her insatiable quest for knowledge turned him on. And, the fact that her quest included him turned him on even more. He knew what kind of girl Buffy was. She was a knowledge seeker, a truth seeker. It would make her a damn good attorney. Wanting to be part of his world brought her closer to understanding him, and that's what Buffy ultimately was seeking to do. It thrilled him to no end to see her want to embrace him in such a manner. It meant that she was on her way to being sure that what they had could last and, if he had his way, it would last until they were old and gray.

Whistling to himself, William changed himself into Spike. Tight black jeans, a tight black Ramone’s t-shirt from back in the day, black combat boots, and his duster. Ah, the black duster. It had been at one time his second skin. It was like meeting an old friend when he slid into it. Memories of his teenage persona came slamming back to him and he grinned to himself. Yeah, he'd definitely been a shit. He'd had fun though. Slicking his hair back, he whistled to himself and reached for the black liner he'd gotten after work that day. Lightly, he lined his eyes with it and grinned. He was ready.

Stepping into the living room and not seeing Buffy, he called out to her.

"I'm coming! Just got to finish up," she called out.

He couldn't wait to see his Golden Girl. He drew a breath when he heard the bathroom door open. Soon, she came into vision and his jaw dropped. She was bloody gorgeous, and oh God, sexy as hell. Her hair was pin straight so that it almost looked like jagged eges at the ends. And it had bright red streaks in it that somehow made her gorgeous green eyes pop out even more. Her make up was dark for her, black liner and mossy green shadow. And her outfit, oh boy her outfit. She wore a red and black plaid, pleated mini with zippers on the sides and large safety pins randomly adorning it all around, and a skintight fishnet shirt that didn’t leave much to the imagination for he could see her black bra underneath and the swell of her milky white breasts calling him. She wore black thigh highs and chunky black boots.

"Do I look all right?" she asked and looked him up and down, licking her lips.

He was on her instantly before his mind knew what he was doing, his body was moving forward and grabbing her to him and kissing her amorously. "Fuck, Buffy," he breathed when he'd released her. "You look bloody gorgeous. A wet dream come to life."

"William!" she admonished him.

He leered at her, "It's Spike now baby."

She giggled and kissed him. "So I pass?"

"You more than pass, baby," he purred. He let his hands wander down her sides and to her ass, which he cupped in both his hands, and brought her closer so she could feel the erection he was now sporting.

She gasped and he watched in pleasure as her eyes glazed over with lust. He leaned in and kissed her voraciously. "I want you," he told her huskily. "I want to bend you over the couch, lift up this pretty little skirt and take you from behind. Can I Buffy? Can I take you like that?"

He was sure he had her, was sure she would say yes from the dazed look on her face. She surprised him by pushing at him and holding up her hand, moving her pointer finger back and forth and tsking him. "Naughty boy, wanting to make me all . . . dirty."

He growled, loving the vixen coming out in her. He moved forward to take her back in his arms when she stepped back, "Now, now," she scolded him. "Take me out and show me a good time and I might just let you take me from behind."

His eyes fluttered shut, hearing it from her lips drove him clear round the bend. "Buffy," he groaned, "What are you doing to me?"

"Giving you an incentive. Come now . . . Spike."

"I would like to come--"

She laughed and started for the door and, he was sure, wiggling her ass for him as she went.

"You are going to be the death of me," he muttered and followed her. Bloody slave all right, he thought to himself.

***********************************************************************************

Buffy felt stupid. Stupid because her first instinct upon walking into the underground club Wi--Spike had chosen was to cower in fear. It was ridiculous, they were people just like her, some of them just happened to look a little. . . different. Different as in scary. You're a snob, Summers, she told herself. It was just a different world than what she was used to. She was used to dance clubs that played Britney Spears and Destiny's Child. Poppy stuff; stuff Spike probably hated and rebelled against. She was used to seeing the occupants of those 'poppy' clubs dressed from preppy to slutty. The people here however, donned dog collars and heavy makeup, some it quite theatrical too, they wore bright colors and the standard black, and wild colored hair. Actually, she was liking the pink wig she saw across the room... However, the over all affect screamed seedy to Buffy. It was dark and almost dirty looking, but Buffy wondered if that was done for affect, or if it truly was dirty. There wasn’t much in the way of decoration aside from posters of bands – including the band of the t-shirt William was sporting. There was a bar in the back and that was pretty much it.

The occupants appeared tough and street wise to her; unwelcoming to a girl like her. She felt as if they'd take one look at her and know she was a fake. She studied the people around her inquisitively.

"What's goin' on in that head of yours?" Spike asked, nudging her with his arm.

"I'm studying."

He chuckled, "Studying?"

"Punk looks to me a little like goth."

He made a face, looking offended, but trying to cover it up. “Goth is for pansies,” he retorted. “Nothing like punk.”

That made her defensive. “Like I’m supposed to know. The closest I’ve come to punk is Green Day.”

Now he looked horrified, “Green Day is not punk.”

She felt even dumber than before. Here she was trying to experience William’s world and she was falling flat on her face. She was an embarrassment. She should have studied up on this; should have never suggested they do this. Or was it him that had suggested it? It didn’t matter, she just wanted out now.

“Buffy,” he was saying her name now, softly.

She was fighting back tears and refused to look at him.

“Buffy,” he said again and closed his fingers around her arm. She jerked back from him and looked away.

“Pet, look at me, please.”

She remained looking away. Then, he was standing in front of her, looking regretful. “Pet, talk to me. What is it?”

“I don’t fit in here. I stick out like a sore thumb and you think I’m stupid.”

“Buffy, no, baby, I could never think you were stupid,” he said lovingly and reached out, stroking her cheek. “Look at me, baby.”

She shook her head.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

“Because I want to cry and if I look at you, I will!”

“Pet, don’t be upset. Please. I’m sorry if I snapped at you. I know you don’t know anything about punk and that’s why we’re here. To learn.”

“I should have done research—“

He started to chuckle and her eyes snapped to him, the tears gone and replaced by ire. “Now you’re laughing at me.”

“Not at you, baby. I’m laughing at how adorable you are. You’re the only one I know that would do research on punk.” He stared at her imploringly, suddenly serious. “You’d do all that for me?”

She bit her lip and nodded and then looked up at him, “Not that it matters. I’m ridiculous. I stick out—“

He pulled her into his arms successfully, “No you don’t. And if anyone is looking at you, it’s because you’re bloody gorgeous, pet. Listen,” he said, pushing some hair away from her face and playing with it idly between his fingers, “We are here to give a taste and to see what I was like then. I’m not exactly the same then as I am now.”

“Part of you is; the part that isn’t a big shot attorney in a gorgeous penthouse. You’re still a rebel, Will.”

He grinned, “I am at that. But you don’t have to ‘fit in’ to this scene, Buffy. That’s not what this is about. You already ‘fit in’ with me.”

“I know, I’m just . . . a perfectionist. I don’t like to half ass things and I was trying to tamp down the intense feeling of dread upon walking in here—“

“Dread?”

“Some of them look a little scary to me Will. Remember who I was in college? Popular cheerleader that went to pop clubs to dance and listened to friggen Britney Spears. Hell, I’d still do that. But this? This is . . . out of my realm.”

“That’s not a bad thing baby to experience things out of your realm.”

“I know. I just insulted you and you got upset with me and it’s not like I’m supposed to know all of the differences between goth and punk—“

“Buffy, stop. It’s okay, sweet. I’m sorry if I snapped at you.”

She sighed, “I know.”

“Let’s grab a table and I’ll get you a coke and we’ll talk okay? The band is still setting up, so I’ll give you the overview of punk okay? I can tell you right now that there are a bunch of bloody posers in here that are playing at something they’re not.”

“So am I,” she said defensively.

“No, luv. You’re learning. Not claiming to be something you’re not.”

She nodded, “Yeah, ok.”

Leading her through the crowd, he brought her to a table in the corner of the room. He assured her he’d be right back before disappearing into the throng. Buffy sat back and tried to relax. She watched the band set up and let her eyes drift over the crowd, taking them in.

“Here you are, pet,” William said and slid in next to her, placing her plastic cup of Coke before her.

She sipped it, “So, I’m less intimidated.”

He grinned, “Oh?”

“Well, I saw a group laughing over there and that helped.”

He laughed then and pulled her snug against his side, draping an arm across her shoulders. “A lot of them look about ready to wet themselves when up against the real punks.”

“All right. Teach me,” she said and rested her head on his shoulder.

He spoke low, giving her the basics of punk rock music; what it was, what it meant and the history of it. She listened with interest, jumping in to ask questions here and there and finally, through his eyes, she was starting to see what he meant by the ‘posers’ as he called them. She readily identified the ‘hard core’ punks from the ‘wannabe’s’. She found that it wasn't what she thought at all. She thought 'punk' meant just a style of music that was close to rock, and a style of clothing to rebel and make a statement. According to William though, it was more than that. It was, and could be considered a way of life. It was rebelling--but rebelling against the things society imposed on people -- as in being the perfect 'cookie cutter' image. It was taking a stand and being brave enough to be yourself. It was raw and political and said something. It fit him. Even with the straight - laced day job. It said something about the core of him and, proved to her even more just how complex William really was.
When the band started, Buffy looked to William to gauge his reaction as some of the ‘wannabe’s’ flocked to the front of the stage. Will did not look impressed.

“What’s their name?” he asked distastefully.

Buffy narrowed her eyes to see the stage and the poster next to the band. “The . . . Safety Pins.” She started to giggle as William looked downright disgusted.

“This is bloody awful.”

“Well, what do you expect from Safety Pins?” she laughed.

“I’m done with this place. You ready to go pet? A bloody mockery is what it is. A travesty! I oughta shut this shit hole down on principle alone. They call themselves a punk rock band? They sound like bloody Blink 182—“

“Hey,hey!” Buffy said and poked him. “I like them.” She paused, "I though they were just rocky pop."

William chuckled, "They are at that. You ready kitten? Let’s go home. I’ll teach you about punk.”

She grinned, “Oh, I’m sure you will.”
********************************************

She didn’t seem to put out that they had left so early; she seemed almost relieved actually. He chuckled to himself. His girl was not punk. Though she looked bloody hot in that outfit and he fully intended on taking her the way he’d described before they’d left.

But, to make doubly sure their night was not wasted, he took her to the diner down at the corner from the club and they filled up on greasy cheeseburgers and fries until they felt as if their stomachs would burst. He rushed her back into the car, as she hadn’t wanted to look like a ‘dork’ with a jacket on, to keep her warm and then up to the apartment. Immediately she’d gone for his CD’s and demanded to see his photo album again so she could ‘envision it all.’ They’d kicked off their shoes, and he his jacket and just before she started taking off her thigh highs, he begged her to keep them on. She blushed and agreed.

His girl was still not quite impressed, but she did admit to liking a few songs. He smothered her in kisses and toppled her into the couch. He was done talking now. He needed to touch her, feel her, make love to her until she begged for a reprieve.

Nibbling at her ears and down her neck he took untold delight in the moans and murmurs she elicited at his touch. Her nimble and questing fingers caressed him where they could reach and her simple touch had him beyond aroused.

Sliding his hands under her fishnet shirt, he lifted it up and over her head, discarding it over the couch and then pulling her bra down to suckle at her breasts, moaning at how responsive she was and how sweet she tasted.

“Will,” she moaned, clawing at his shirt. He grinned saucily, and lifted up, pulling his own shirt up and off, and then unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping them.

She bit her lip and reached for him, bringing him down into the warm softness of her arms and body. Sliding his hands under her skirt, he found her thong, which he took great pleasure in tearing right off her. “Will!” she gasped and her eyes widened.

“Spike,” he told her huskily, “Call me Spike.”

Her gaze darkened in lust even more and God, she had no idea what it did to him.

“Spike, please,” she whimpered and he nearly came at the sound. Thrusting a finger inside her, she nearly sobbed her pleasure with her head thrashing from side to side.

“Christ, you’re so wet,” he breathed. “For me, right? Just for me.”

She nodded, “For you.”

“Only me because you’re my girl, right?”

“Yes, Spike, yours.”

He growled and kissed her hard, “Up, Buffy,” he said backing away, withdrawing his finger that was coated with her juices. He helped her up whilst sucking his finger; his eyes rolling up at the taste.

She stood on wobbly legs. “Spike?” she said certainly.

“Bend over the armrest Buffy,” he directed her, watching her blush profusely and bend over the armrest, resting her elbows on it and looking up at him.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he swore, taking in the rosy hue to her skin, her eyes uncertain but still trusting, her breasts hanging over her bra, the peaks hard. And her bottom, her round, perfect bottom. He shucked off his jeans, licking his lips in anticipation and got behind her, caressing her bottom tenderly. She moaned and he lazily drew a finger across her back, and over her rump before finally settling in the crack of her ass and going down further. She jumped and tensed until he reached her pussy and he slid his finger in and then rubbed her clit.

“Condom,” she gasped out. “The pill hasn’t . . . you need to get a condom.”

He groaned, his body protesting the whole way to the bathroom. Quickly, he tore the package open and sheathed himself. Coming back in the room, and seeing her bent over still, he knew he had to be inside her and soon.

“Baby, I can’t wait,” he warned her, “I need to be inside you.”

She nodded, “Please, Spike.”

Grabbing his cock, he lined it up with her slit and lunged forward, burying himself in her heat. She gasped.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked worriedly.

“No, just surprised me,” she breathed.

He started a slow, rocking motion as he leaned over her and palmed her breasts in his hand, pinching her nipples. She moaned low in her throat and her head dropped to the armrest. “Spike, more, please.”

He started thrusting harder, his body demanding more along with hers. It was like this, inside her, that he knew she was his completely; that she belonged to him wholly. He wanted more; wanted more than just coupling to make it real.


He wanted all of her.

He pushed faster, harder, and together they climbed to their peak. Reaching around, he slid his thumb over her bundle of nerves and she let a groan and swore.

He dotted kisses over her back, wanting to cum, but not wanting the sweet tormenting pleasure to end.

“Buffy, you feel so good, my sweet girl,” he murmured. “Feel so good. Like heaven.” His balls were tightening and he knew he was going to pop soon and he wanted her with her. He rubbed faster and pounded harder and the minute her walls fluttered and clenched around him, she let out a shout and called his name. He came with a vengeance, shouting her name. He dazedly collapsed against her back, nuzzling it with his face. “Love you, Buffy. Love you so much my sweet girl. Be with me forever, Buffy. Be with me forever.”

“Spike,” she said softly after a few moments.

“I’m crushing you,” he said and stood, easing himself out her tight passage. They both groaned at the sensation of slipping from each other and he helped her up, spinning her around and into his arms. Her cheeks were flushed; her hair in disarray and her lips were plump from his kisses. He kissed her languidly, savoring her like a fine wine. “What do you say about a bath?” he asked.

She looked at him with such tenderness in her eyes; he knew it had to be love. One couldn’t fake a look like that or make it up. His heart swelled and bloomed in hope. She smiled shyly at him, “That sounds nice,” and she buried her face in his chest.

“What’s this then?” he asked, sweeping her hair from her shoulders and smoothing a hand down her back.

“Just feel self-conscious all of a sudden . . . Baring my rump like that.”

He laughed, “Oh kitten, it’s a beautiful rump. Poets could write sonnets about that rump.”

She giggled.

“Come on, I’ll wash away that self – consciousness. I have much more in store for you, sweetheart.”

“I’m sure you do, Spike. I’m sure you do.”
 

Chapter 20:

Sunday morning, Buffy woke before William and lay there, watching him sleep, thinking him to look like a little boy when he slept. Definite contrast to the man he very much was. She wanted to reach out and trace his face with her finger, feel how soft she knew his skin was and smile as he woke up under her touch. She found joy in the simple act of reaching out touching him; the smile it would elicit could light up a Yule log. Her favorite was touching his face and the way he would nuzzle into her palm, his eyes closing and a soft smile playing across his gorgeous face.

Was that love? she wondered. Is that what she felt for him? He’d said it after he came, but . . .could that be something she could take as truth or something in the heat of the moment?

He had said that he was falling at one time...though he’d also said that he’d only claimed to be ‘falling’ in order to not frighten her. But, how did he know? How did he know it was love and not just lust he felt for her?

Well Buffy, she thought, he’s had enough experience. He is thirty-five and has been around. So, is it from him you’re looking for clarification or for yourself?
The phrase ‘young piece of ass’ kept flashing in her head and she tamped it down. William would be appalled to hear her think that.

She gazed at him, propping an arm up and resting her head on her hand. Like this, he was peaceful and not at all overwhelming. Scratch that. He was still overwhelming, but not the same kind of overwhelming. When he was awake, his focus was so intently on her his outbursts of emotion and possessiveness left her breathless and feeling as if the Earth were moving right from under her feet. When he was like this, sleeping, he warmed her heart, made her want to wrap herself around him and never let go. Sounds like love, the voice in her head said.

She watched him start to wake, a smile slowly curving her lips. He stretched and yawned and reached for her immediately. Giggling to herself she glided out of reach and covered her mouth to stifle a laugh when his eyebrows furrowed and he growled, his eyes snapping open. She laughed airily and he grabbed her, hauling her to him.

“What are you up to?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Just watching you,” she said, nestling against him, and pressing a kiss to his bare chest. Wrapped up together like this she felt safe and warm; and loved.

“Oh?”

“You’re always awake before me,” she told him. “Now it was my turn.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Mmmm.”

“I could get used to this, you know,” he murmured, gliding a hand down her back.

“Used to--?”

“”Waking up with you here. I feel like the whole week is just a build up to when I can have you here with me,” he explained, ghosting a kiss across her forehead. “I think I already am used to this.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “I –I, uh, have to go home early today.”

He pulled back, studying her and frowning, “Why?”

“I have to study, Will.”

“Why don’t you ever bring your homework here, luv? You can study here as well as at home you know.”

She smirked, “Yeah, I’m sure I’d get lots of studying done here.”

He feigned indignation. “What are you trying to say?”

“That you’re very distracting, William.”

He grinned rakishly and leaned in, catching her bottom lip in his mouth and nibbling on it before engaging her in a kiss. He toppled her so that she was on her back with his erection cradled between her thighs. A gasp escaped her and she thought; lust.

He rubbed himself against her as he kissed her languidly and she felt that certain wetness begin to escape her labia. It was amazing to her that he could so effortlessly evoke that response to her. Lust for wanting him, but . . . love for it only being him? She wondered.

Swiftly, he reached over and grabbed a condom, tearing open the package and sat back to sheath himself. She watched him hungrily and reached out, helping him encase himself, stroking his shaft. He moaned, “Fuck, Buffy.” He lunged back on her and then rolled so that she was on top this time. Her eyes widened as she looked down at him. “Will?” she said uncertainly.

“I want you to ride me, Buffy,” he told her huskily, cupping her bottom.

“I don’t—“

He lifted her then and she braced herself on his chest. She felt the tip of him at her entrance and her eyes closed and she lowered herself on him with his help. A groan escaped them both when she was fully seated on him.

“Oh fuck, yes, baby,” he breathed. “Look at me, Buffy.”

Her eyes shot open and met his, his eyes dark with passion and a tenderness she was beginning to see more and more of – and not just when they were like this.

“Lift up . . . “he instructed her and she did, then slammed back down. When she did, her clit rubbed against his shaft causing shocks of pleasure to course through her. He grinned, “You liked that.”

She nodded and adjusted herself so that she wasn’t resting her weight on his chest and instead sat up on him and used her legs to guide and maneuver herself over him. It took a minute, but soon a rhythm was established and Buffy was able to make it so that each stroke in caused him to rub her clit. And then soon, she was moving faster and faster as she raced to her completion, William following behind.

“Buffy, God, yes, you feel so good . . . love being inside you . . . oh fuck, Buffy. Fuck me . . . fuck me hard. . . that’s it baby . . . “ he babbled and reared up so that he could suckle on her breasts. She grasped him to her as she rode him, getting closer . . . closer. . .

“I love you, Buffy, I love you so much . . . “ he murmured. “Can’t . . .get . . . enough of you. . .”

His words skimmed by her, noting them, but not processing them. Her body was reaching for its release and all else seemed to slide by.

“William!” she called and sobbed her release, feeling she was going to black out from the intense pleasure coursing through her.

“Fuck!” he roared and she knew he was coming. Holding on to him tightly, she let him take control from then on. He moved them so she lay, boneless, on top of him.

“God, I think you’re going to kill me,” she murmured against his slightly slick chest.

“I think it’s the other way around, baby,” he countered, rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Need a nap now, sweetheart?”

She nodded, her eyes fluttering shut. He rolled them to their sides and slid out of her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Come back,” she protested, missing his warmth and touch.

“I’ll always be here,” he whispered.


The following day at work Buffy was in especially good spirits. She’d gotten an exam back that day that she’d been especially nervous about and aced it. She couldn’t wait to tell William. Entering the office, she smiled at Harmony and was caught off guard when Harmony smiled back and asked, “How was your weekend, Buffy?”

It was in the way she said it that gave Buffy pause. As if she knew something and wasn’t just making idle conversation—something Harmony never did to begin with anyway.

“Fine,” Buffy said slowly, “Why do you ask?”

Harmony shrugged, smiling knowingly and was literally saved by the bell as the phone rang. Making her way down the hall she pondered what Harmony was up to when she ran into William who was looking grim.

“I tried calling you,” William said.

“I left my cell at home,” Buffy said, “What’s going on?”

“Your father has requested our presence.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, “What?”

“He called me this afternoon and snarled at me that when you got here, we were to go see him.”

“I don’t want to,” Buffy said, shaking her head.

“Buffy, we have to. He knows, somehow and we have to face it.”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to face it. The whole reason we agreed to keep it secret was so we didn’t have to face it. He’s going to have my head.”

“More like mine,” William muttered. “I tried to go talk to him, he refused to see me. Not wanting to make a scene, I let it go.”

“This is it. This is the end.”

Grabbing her arm and dragging her into the men’s bathroom, William shut the door and practically shook her. “You listen to me. This is not over. This is not the end. Your father cannot break us up. You’re an adult now Buffy and you can see whomever you want. He’s not angry with you, he’s angry at me. You’re his little girl after all. Just let me talk to him.”

“Will—“

“Please?”

She sighed, “Fine.”

She very nearly felt as if she were walking to the guillotine as her and William made their way down to Hank’s office on the floor below. William held her and kissed her on the elevator ride down, murmuring that it would be all right. Buffy didn’t feel it would be all right at all. She knew her father’s volatile temper. Especially when it came to her and her future.

The receptionist announced them and William held her hand as they walked down to Hank’s office and Darth Vadar’s theme song started playing in Buffy’s mind with every step.

The door opened as they approached it and Hank stood aside, his face red with anger. He shut the door, nearly slamming it behind them once they were safely ensconced inside. Buffy jumped at the sound and let go of William’s hand just after he gave it a squeeze.

“So, you’re skirt chasing my daughter,” Hank blurted out. Apparently, he’d been waiting all day for this and was chomping at the bit with it. He was tremblingwith anger and Buffy started at the knowledge.

“Hank—“ William started.

”Shut up,” Hank snapped and went to his desk where he extracted a manila envelope that’d been torn open at the top. He pulled out what appeared to be photo’s and slapped them onto his desk.

Coming closer, Buffy gasped when she saw that they were photo’s of her and Will. They were pictures of them out around the city, shopping, talking, laughing, and having lunch. They were even some of them from that very weekend at the club William had taken her to.

“How did --?” she whispered, feeling dazed.

“I got them in the mail this morning,” Hank explained. “With no return address.”

“I don’t understand—“ Buffy murmured, rifling through them. “Who could have done this? Why?”

“You’re not working there anymore,” Hank said finally.

Buffy’s head snapped up, “What?”

“You’re not working there anymore, Buffy,” he repeated. “And you’re not to see William anymore, you understand me?”

“Dad—“

“You get me?”

“Dad—“

“Hank, be reasonable. I know you’re upset, but it’s not Buffy you’re upset with, it’s me,” William tried calmly.

“You know what I think of you and your opinions at this moment William? They’re complete shit! My best friend after all these years has been taking up with my little girl – she’s fifteen fucking years younger than you! What the hell are you thinking?” Hank was shouting, red-faced, and the vein in his forehead looked about ready to pop. “You’re skirt chasing my little girl!”

“I am notskirt chasing your little girl! I love her.”

Hank laughed bitterly,” Of course you do. Any man at your age would fancy himself in love with a twenty year old. Especially when he’s getting a piece.”

“You shut your gob,” William snapped angrily. “Don’t talk about your daughter like that.”

“Buffy, you’re coming to work for me,” Hank said, ignoring him.

“I don’t even work for William anymore Dad, I work for Wesley,” Buffy said calmly.

“You’re not staying there Elizabeth, now get your things!” Hank yelled.

“Dad, please, calm down, you’re not looking too good right now—“

“Do you want Wesley and that whole damn office to know about what you’ve been carrying on and doing there?” Hank continued, ignoring her, and then turned to William. “Do you want everyone to know? You think they’d take kindly to know their partner is carrying on with the secretary? That he’s thinking with his dick rather than using the brain God gave him?”

“Hank, I mean it, shut the fuck up,” William said through clenched teeth.

“And don’t think at this point I’d take pleasure at dragging you through the mud because I’m so spitting angry, I would do it! Buffy, get your things and come down here, now!” Hank shouted, turning to Buffy.

“Daddy, I’ll do it, just calm down, you’re scaring me.” Something was not right about him. She’d seen him angry before, quite angry, but something was off about him. He looked like a time bomb ready to go off.

“You only ‘daddy’ me when you want something,” Hank snarled.

“Hank, stop it!” William exclaimed, “Just calm down—“

“Don’t tell me to – “ he broke off, clutching his heart and gasping for air.

“Daddy!” Buffy shouted and rushed to him.

“Hank!” William went to him just as Hank fell to the floor, clutching at his heart. “I’m calling 9-1-1.”

Hank lay there, unconscious in Buffy’s arms and she cried over him, begging him wake up and tell her that he was okay.


 

Chapter 21:
She was too far away from him, but it was a distance she’d imposed on him, on herself. She didn’t want the comfort of his arms and he needed the comfort of hers just as much, he was betting, as she really did need his.

William kept replaying the vision of Hank falling to the ground, of Buffy cradling him in her arms and sobbing for him to wake up. He remembered calling 9-1-1 and then feeling that that was where his usefulness ended.

Helpless, that’s how he felt. He simply didn’t know what to do amidst the confusion and hysteria of the crowd that had gathered in Hank’s office.

He should have gone to medical school, he had thought as he watched Hank being lifted on a stretcher and into the ambulance, Buffy following in behind him, her face wet with tears. He’d wanted to go with her, but she was the only one allowed.

So, William followed closely behind, tearing like a bat out of hell to get there, thinking he would end up beside his best friend if he wasn’t careful.

The only thing he wanted to do while Buffy called Joyce and signed papers was hold her, but she wouldn’t let him. She wouldn’t even talk to him. She spoke to the nurses, being as cooperative as possible to get her father help he needed.

Her tears had seemed to stop somewhere en route to the hospital and William wanted them back. This Buffy, this stoic Buffy he was seeing, frightened him. It was as if a light had gone off inside her and she was just a dried up, emotionless shell. He would have known better how to help her if she cried and allowed herself to be held by him.

Maybe he wouldn’t feel so helpless.

Then Joyce was there, and it seemed she was the one he was allowed to comfort. She sat by him, holding his hand and drying her eyes with a tissue every so often while Buffy paced, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She was deep in thought and whatever she was thinking, it contained questions that she knew the answers to, because every so often her lips would move and he knew she was talking to herself.

His lips quirked slightly at the sight, remembering when he’d first witnessed her talking to herself. She’d blushed deeply and told him to go away. He did nothing of the sort of course, and instead kissed her breathless telling her how cute it was to see her doing that.

Now all he wanted was to make her tell him what she was saying to herself. He needed to dosomething.

“I don’t blame you,” Joyce whispered to him, looking straight ahead.

That disoriented him for a minute; he wasn’t even sure what she was referring to for a minute. The revelation jarred him. He hadn’t been thinking in terms of ‘Hank had a heart attack because I’m with Buffy’, he’d merely been thinking in terms of ‘Hank had a heart attack, what can I do?’

“She’s blaming herself,” Joyce murmured, nodding towards Buffy. “Her and her father have the oddest relationship, you know.”

“Do they?” he said, speaking for what felt like the first time, his voice rough with disuse.

“They only want to care for each other, but they bicker so much, they drive themselves apart. They can’t just agree to disagree, nor can they see that half the time they’re arguing about why they agree. Buffy would never admit it, but she’s always wanted her father’s approval. And he wants hers. He wasn’t there much when she was younger and then he tried to forge a relationship with her at a time when she wanted to be awayfrom her parents. They play tug of war, but they love each other and at some level, understand each other.”

“I . . . I don’t know what to do for her,” William said, watching his Buffy continue to pace.

“You really love her,” Joyce stated.

“I do.”

“I knew.”

William started, “You did?”

“A mother knows when her daughter is in love.”

William stared at Buffy, “She’s not in love with me.”

Joyce looked up at him then, “She’s not?”

William shook his head, “She’s never said it.”

Joyce patted his arm. “She will. She’s young William, you have to be patient.”

“I know, I’m afraid I . . . I scare her.”

“Her feelings scare her. Being uncertain scares her. Always has with Buffy. She hates to be unsure of anything. She hates surprises. She just likes to know. She shares that with her father.”

“How did you know it was me?”

Joyce smiled, “She talked about you an awful lot in the beginning. And I knew that something had happened when she suddenly stopped.”

“You’re something, Joyce,” William said, chuckling lightly and shaking his head.

The doctor came through the double doors at the end of the hall and Buffy lurched forward towards him. William and Joyce followed close behind. Joyce held onto his hand for support and William longed to take Buffy’s to offer her support but she did not even look his way.

“He’s fine. He’s resting for now. We ran an EKG and it did indeed show he had a heart attack. The cardiologists will be taking him up to the Cath lab and performing a cardiac catherization in about fifteen minutes to determine the extent of the damage and any blockage, so if you’d like to see him now, it’s a good time to do so. Could I ask a few questions Miss Summers?” The doctor with the dark hair and kind eyes asked.

“Of course,” Joyce nodded.

“I’m gonna go see him,” Buffy said.

“You go on ahead,” Joyce told her, “I’m going to talk with the doctor first okay?” Joyce said.

Buffy nodded and started on her way.

“Buffy, wait,” William started after her.

She stopped and turned to him, looking at him as if she’d just noticed he was there. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea William. I should see him alone okay?”

He nodded and stepped forward, reaching for her, “Sweetheart—“

She stepped away from him and started back down the hall. “Not now, William,” she said over her shoulder.

There he was, feeling helpless again.

************************************************************************

“Daddy?” Buffy asked tentatively, walking in the room in which he was hooked up to so many machines. The brightness of the room hurt her eyes and she started to cry again as she looked at him. Her dad, whom she once thought was invincible, was lying there, helpless. Much like she felt at the moment.

“Buffy,” he said holding out his arms, “It’s okay, honey.”

She let the tears fall, and leaned in, hugging him lightly, not wanting to disrupt the tubes and wires attached to him.

“I’m okay, honey,” he assured her.

“Had you been feeling sick all day?” she asked and sat back on the bed, watching him.

“No pumpkin, I didn’t feel sick all day.”

“You’re taking care of yourself, you understand me,” she scolded him. “No more working late, no more fatty foods. We’re gonna go walking every morning before I have class and before you go to work.”

Hank chuckled, “Knew you’d be worse than your mother.”

“I love you Dad.”

“I know, pumpkin, and I love you too.”

Her mom came in then and her tears started upon seeing him as Buffy’s had.

“Hank,” Joyce murmured as she held onto him.

“I’m okay, honey,” Hank assured her.

Discreetly, Buffy got up and left them alone. She’d wait in the hall for her mom. Coming out in the hall, she saw William standing there, looking lost and sad. She came up to him, placing a hand over her heart. He stared at her hopefully as she approached.

“How is he?” he asked.

“He’s good, he says he’s fine,” Buffy told him.

“Can I – can I see him?”

“He’s with my mom right now . . . I gave them some alone time. Did you happen to hear what they might have to do for him?”

“After the cardiac cath, they’ll be able to determine more.”

“I told him we’re going to go for walks every morning before work.”

He chuckled lightly, but it sounded forced. He looked up at her, solemn expression in place. “What do you need? What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Buffy . . . please. Talk to me sweetheart.”

“Will, I’m just . . . I can’t process much of anything right now. I don’t know what I need aside from my dad being okay.”

“He will be Buffy. The doctors said so himself.”

“I know, I’m just. . . I’ve never had to deal with something like that, ya know? You . . . you have with your mom.”

William nodded, “I have. Doesn’t mean it’s easier to deal when something like this happens. It’s just. . . .different.”

She nodded, “I think I’m just gonna stay here and see what my mom needs and what he needs.”

“Then I’ll stay too.”

“You don’t –“

“Don’t tell me that,” he said, his tone slightly harsh. “Dammit, Buffy, I love you. I’m not just walking away and leaving you.”

She nodded, “Thanks.”

“Don’t . . . don’t bloody thank me.”

“What do you want me to do then?”

“Just let me be here for you without treating me like I’m the enemy or some stranger—“

“Honey, Daddy’s going in for the cardiac cath soon,” Joyce’s voice carried over to them and the couple turned towards them. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. It’s going to be a long procedure.”

“No, mom, I want to stay.”

“Honey, you should go home and get some rest. You’ve had a really rough afternoon. Why don’t you let William take you home hmmm?” Joyce said and brushed some hair from Buffy’s face.

“I’m okay, Mom,” Buffy assured her and promptly her stomach growled, causing Buffy to grimace.

“How bout something to eat then, Princess?” William said. “I’ll get you something to eat, come on.”

“William, really, I’m—“

“That would be wonderful, William!” Joyce gushed, “I could go for some tea myself. Soothes my nerves. Why don’t you go with William, honey?”

“Mom—“

Joyce looked at her sternly. “Go.”

Buffy nodded, knowing better than to fight her mother. William tried to take her hand, but Buffy dodged him, “I think the cafeteria is down this way,” she said and started down the hall.

She’d never felt so jumbled emotionally in all her life and she was frustrated that no one seemed to get that all she wanted was to be left alone.
 

Chapter 22:

Buffy made sure she was far ahead of William as they made their way to the cafeteria. What he didn’t know, and what she didn’t want to let on to was that she was crying, silently.

That was the thing about worrying and being scared; sometimes it didn’t allow you to see what was happening around you. It created tunnel vision and left you trapped in your own world. And she realized that was for some, not all. Unfortunately, she was one of those. She’d never been one to let people in when she was hurting. Rather, she shut people out and tried to overcome what hurt her on her own. Not to mention the way she sometimes dealt with that hurt was by lashing out.

It was a trait she’d inherited from her father. He’d never much been one for showing if he was hurt. He was the stoic man who bore it all and never said anything. He only got angry. It’d always frustrated her that he did that instead of letting Joyce in and working through whatever worried or bothered him, but dammit if she wasn’t the same way.

And it wasn’t as if she could eradicate twenty years of conditioning in the blink of an eye. No, Buffy hated to cry and more than that she hated for others to see her cry. She thought of it as a sign of weakness. Strong people didn’t cry; they wore a brave face. If they hurt, they didn’t let it show; couldn’t let it show. It just gave others the ability to know your weaknesses and prey on them.

Her mother knew this about her and often yelled at her; telling her that if she’d just talk things out, she’d feel so much better.

It just wasn’t something Buffy had practice at. She felt the urge rather to hide; to be alone and deal with things on her own until she could be around people and face things. She found when she wasn’t given that time she became increasingly frustrated and angry.

Like now.

She was mad at her mother for forcing her to be with someone and she was mad at William for not understanding what she needed right now. She was worried about her father being alone in the hospital that night, she was worried about what would happen when he got home –who would watch him? What if he had another heart attack and no one was there? What if they had to perform surgery and died on the table – didn’t stuff like that happen? What if she hadn’t been there that afternoon? God, he’d worked himself up all day just waiting for them to arrive. And who had sent those pictures? Did they realize what they’d done? She should have told him; she should have told him sooner, she shouldn’t have kept it from him. If they had just gone to him and told him—

“Buffy.”

“What?” she nearly barked; startled out of her thoughts.

“You passed the cafeteria; it’s right here.”

Wiping profusely at the tears that tracked her face, she turned and headed for the open double doors that led to a brightly lit hospital cafeteria, avoiding William’s gaze.

“Buffy,” he stopped her, grabbing her arm. “Buffy, look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, Buffy, look at me.”

“William, I said no!” and she jerked her arm from his grasp.

He didn’t let go and instead hauled her to him, grabbing her other arm and making her face him. “God dammit Buffy!” he shouted and then halted. “You’re crying.”

“Yeah, I’m crying. You happy now?”

“Buffy—“

She was fighting a losing battle as the tears she was trying to keep down started to fall. “Don’t okay? Don’t. I’m trying here, okay? I don’t want to lose it.”

“Buffy, you can lose it. It’s okay. I’m here –“

“No, I hate to cry. I hate it. It hurts and . . . and it hurts,” and she failed horribly at stifling a sob. “And I’m so worried about him and I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack because I keep seeing him fall in my head. I keep seeing him fall and clutching his chest and I’m so worried and my heart it feels like it’s just clenching inside my chest so hard and I can’t . . . breathe.” She fell apart then; crumbled into tears. She barely registered William lifting her effortlessly in his arms and walking her into a room. He slid to the floor with her cradled in his arms and held onto her tightly on his lap.

He rubbed her back and murmured words of comfort that she didn’t really hear, but his voice, his deep calming voice soothed her. She buried her face in his neck and sobbed her heart out, balling his shirt into her fists.

“I’m scared,” she sobbed.

“I know, baby, I know you are. It’s normal to be scared.”

“What if he has another heart attack and no one is there?”

“The doctors are going to make sure he’s taken care of, Buffy. They’re going to do everything they can to prevent that from happening.”

“What if they can’t?”

“Buffy, no one is going to let anything happen to him. Your dad is a fighter. You think this is going to get him down? No way. He’s the strongest man I know. He’s going to be fine.”

“I keep seeing him fall. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so scared and helpless. I didn’t know what to do.” The tears didn’t seem to want to stop.

“I know, baby.”

“I love my Dad, William. I do.”

“I know, Buffy, I know you do and he knows you do too.”

“No, I’ve been so mean to him since I got back home. . . . I told him in the ambulance and he couldn’t hear me and I wanted him to hear me, Will. I wanted him to know that I loved him and I wanted him to know that I was s—s—sorry for being so mean to him and pushing him away and he couldn’t hear me and I kept thinking that if he died he wouldn’t hear me and I wanted to hear me.”

He held her tighter, “He knows, baby, he knows,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

She pulled back to look at him, hiccupping. He was crying too. “You’re crying.”

“I am,” he admitted, unabashedly at that. That was amazing to her.

“You didn’t see him yet,” she realized suddenly.

He shook his head, “I didn’t.”

“Will?”

“What, baby?”

“Are you scared too?” she whispered.

“I am, but I know he’s going to be okay. I feel it in my gut.”

“Do you promise?” she asked imploringly.

Brushing some hair from her face he nodded, “I promise.”

“Are you mad at me?”

His eyes widened, “No – Buffy, why do you think that?”

“I haven’t exactly been . . . kind. You seemed upset with me earlier.”

“I just . . . “he shook his head. “I want to help you and I wanted to --- no I needed to hold you and you wouldn’t let me.”

“Because you’re scared too?”

He nodded, “Yes. He is my best friend.”

“I’m not . . . good at this, Will. I hate to cry and I don’t deal well with being scared and worried. It’s not anything against you; it’s me. I keep things in and I don’t share what I feel very often. Especially when I feel like this. I like to hide and be away from people and just work it out in my head first.”

“I’ve smothered you—“ he said, sounding regretful.

“No, you –“ she broke off, frustrated. “You didn’t know. I didn’t want to make you feel bad. I” she stopped, suddenly aware of their surroundings. “Where are we?” she said, looking around.

“The bathroom,” he said sheepishly. “The men’s bathroom. It was the only place I could think of that was quiet and away – are you laughing?”

Buffy placed her hand over her mouth and was giggling through the stray tears falling. She nodded, “I am. We’re in a bathroom. On the floor. Having a heart – to – heart.”

He started to laugh, “Well, when you put it that way.”

“It’s okay, some of my best thoughts happen in a bathroom,” she said and laughed.

“At least you’re laughing now. That’s a good sign,” he said fondly and smiled at her.

She sighed, “Yeah, I guess. We better get that tea and get back to my mom.”

“After you, Princess.”

Leaning in she kissed him quickly; chastely and climbed off his lap. She held out her hand and helped him up. Leaving the bathroom, an elderly man raised his brow when he saw them; Buffy blushed profusely and William laughed.
 

Chapter 22:

“They’re going to do what?” Buffy asked her mother when they’d returned with her tea and a sandwich for Buffy.

“Putting a stint in one of his heart vessels to open it up and let the blood flow again,” Joyce explained, rather calmly.

Buffy took a deep breath, “That doesn’t sound scary at all,” her tone saying the opposite.

“It’s quite common, they tell me,” Joyce said, taking a shuddering breath.
William took her hand, “It’ll be all right, Joyce.”

Buffy hugged her mother quickly and kissed her cheek. She sat down with her mother, holding her hand, until the walls started close in on her, making her anxious. She felt the need to break free, gather herself and then be there again for her mother and Will.

She looked over at William. “Will, I um-- can you stay with her for a minute?”

He nodded, “Where are you going?”

“I just . . . I just need some air.”

He nodded, “Okay Buffy.” He didn’t look as if he wanted to let her go, but he did and that was what mattered at that moment.

Walking briskly down the hall, her eyes welled up for what felt like the millionth time that day and she shook her hands – a nervous tick – to try and gain control of herself. Bursting through the exit, she inhaled deeply the cool night air. Pressing her bum against the brick wall, she bent at the waist and took another deep breath as she stared at the ground.

Straightening, she looked up at the night sky and on the first star she saw she recited “Starlight, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might have this wish I wish tonight.” She paused and closed her eyes. “I wish for my Dad to be okay. Please, please, please let my Dad be okay.”

*******************************************************
“Buffy, he’s in his room and he’s fine. I am telling you to go home. I am going to stay here with him for the night okay?” Joyce said softly and yet sternly to a nerve-wracked Buffy.

“He’s really okay?” Buffy asked.

“He’s really okay,” Joyce said. “Now go. Come by in the morning after you’ve gotten some rest, all right?”

Buffy nodded numbly.

William, who’d watched the exchange, silently thanked Joyce. Buffy looked about ready to drop. Her eyes were puffy and red with dark circles forming under them. She was pale and withdrawn and it was time for her to get away from the hospital. He was almost tempted to ask the doctor for a sedative for her. Anything to help her sleep –and hell, him too.

Now that Hank was out of surgery, he felt much better. Relieved. He knew the old man would pull out of it fine. He knew Buffy would still worry, for worry over a parent when something happened to them never did truly go away.

Note to self, he thought, call your father tomorrow.

“I’ll take her home, Joyce,” William assured her and gave her a hug.

“Thank you, William,” Joyce said. She looked to Buffy, sternly, “I mean it. Get some sleep. If you have to take a sleeping pill, do it. I do not want you up all night. You won’t be any help to your father like that.”

Buffy nodded wearily.

William took Buffy’s hand and gave it a tug. “Come on Princess. Let’s go.”

Buffy followed him wordlessly. At this point he wasn’t sure if she was working it out in her mind that everything was fine or if she was too tired to even think anymore. It’d been hard to watch her leave to get some air. He’d been torn between being there for Joyce and going after Buffy. Joyce at least showed her emotions. But, seeing as Buffy had opened up to him earlier in the bathroom and had given him some insight into how she worked things out, he let her go.

And he’d watched the clock tick by. He’d prayed for Hank and comforted Joyce and willed Buffy to come back so that he could see for himself that she hadn’t completely lost it. When she’d come back twenty minutes later, she’d sat down next to her mother and held her hand in silence.

Waiting was the worst and it had never been William’s strong suit. Nor Buffy’s apparently because after some time she’d gotten up to pace.

Leading her to his car, he figured it was best to be patient and let her guide the situation on if she wanted to talk or not. She kept silent and looking back at her; he knew she was fading fast. Probably the best thing for her too.

Once she’d settled in his car, she propped her elbow up on the door and rested her head on her hand. “I’m tired,” she said softly.

“I can see that,” he said as he started the car. “Must feel better about things though, right?”

She nodded and yawned. “Do you?”

“Much,” he said as he pulled out of the parking lot, heading towards the road.

“You did promise,” she said on a sigh and smiled lightly at him.

“I did at that,” he grinned.

“Will you take me to my house? I want to go home to my house.”

“Of course. Do you . . . do you want me to stay with you?” and he braced himself for her answer.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can be in the house alone without . . . “

“Anything you need, Buffy.”

She yawned again and her eyes drifted shut.

“I love you, Buffy,” he said softly.

“Mmmm . . . love you too, Will,” she murmured.

He nearly drove off the road, so startled by that comment he was. “Buffy?” he said urgently, needing clarification.

She was out like a light.

He swore under his breath, wondering if she was even aware of what she’d said. Was it something he could bring up later or was it something she’d just said as she’d fallen asleep and therefore possibly – only possibly meant nothing?

But didn’t confessions while falling asleep mean something? He shook his head. Probably not. Just wishful thinking on his part.

Maybe. He’d hold out for a maybe.

************************************************************

Buffy’s eyes shot open as memories from the day before rushed in her mind. She sat up straight, her heart hammering in her chest. She placed her hand over it and then scrambled out of bed in search of her clothes. What time was it and who was –?

“William,” she said when her green eyes met blue.

“Buffy, what are you doing?” he asked sleepily as he looked over at her from the bed. He was all rumpled from sleep still and looked like he could use a few more hours.

“My Dad. I want to get to the hospital. It’s . . .” she peered over at her alarm clock, “Nine. I need to shower and get over there.”

“Wait for me, I’ll drive you.”

“Are you – are you not going into work?”

He gave her a look.

“Right, stupid question,” she agreed, nodding and gathered some clothes.

“Mind if I use the guest bathroom?” he called out after her.

“No, help yourself!” she called back and rushed to the bathroom to get ready.

***********************************************************

Being able to finally see Hank was a relief for William. He’d entered the room with Buffy in trepidation. He sensed that Buffy felt the same way from the way she’d tensed before they walked in and had let go of his hand.

He couldn’t blame her at all for that considering the last time Hank had seen them together he’d crumpled to the ground from a heart attack. It would take a while to get that image out of his mind, along with the feeling that it could happen again.

Hank had seemed sore and tired, but other than that, in good spirits. He showed no ill will towards William and Will wondered if maybe that meant Hank would give his consent. He of course didn’t want to ask; when Hank was ready, Hank would talk. Until then William kept things light.

The man had shaken Will’s hand heartily and Will helped himself to a hug.

“Thanks for being here with them,” Hank whispered to him.

“Of course,” William said and it was left at that.

When his friend started to get sleepy, they decided it was best to go. Hank insisted that Joyce go home and get some rest; he was going to, so she might as well in the comfort of her own bed. Joyce had hesitated until Buffy spoke up and told her it was a good idea and that she’d take her home.

William figured he’d take the same advice and get some sleep as well. He’d slept restlessly the night before and his body was screaming at him to get some sleep. He told Buffy he’d stop by later and pick her up if she wanted to visit her father again and she’d readily agreed, even giving him a quick kiss as they parted ways.

Things were looking up.

***********************************************************

Buffy had seen to making sure her mother was in bed and sleeping peacefully before she decided to head out to school and speak with her professor’s over the classes she’d missed and gather her homework.

She was on her way back from the school, pondering the changes her father would have to make in his lifestyle and what she could do to make the transition easier for him when a memory slammed into her. It was simple, something that had passed through the transits of her mind the day before, but had not had enough time to dwell on considering her primary focus had been her father’s well being. But now . . . now the thought – the memory – began to take life and grow.

It was of Harmony, asking her how her weekend had been, and of Hank, with pictures of her and William.

Her blood began to boil as she considered the one person who would have been twisted enough to have them followed and have pictures taken of them, and the one person who had been sick enough to send them to her father, knowing, possibly, how he’d react to them.

Not knowing however, that he’d work himself up in such a tizzy, he’d land himself in the hospital.

For that, Drusilla was going pay.

Taking a left, when she should have taken a right to head back home, Buffy headed on her way to the office.

She was going to pay Drusilla little visit and considering how angry she was at the moment – and growing considerably by the second – Drusilla was going to be lucky if she made it out alive.

 

Chapter 23:

Storming into the office building, Buffy punched the elevator key so hard, she thought maybe she’d break it. And, if the elevator went 50 m.p.h., she was sure that wouldn’t have been fast enough to get to Pryce, O’Connor & Madden, P.C.

She was so angry, she was shaking with it. So angry, she nearly had tears in her eyes from wanting to throttle something – or rather someone.

When the elevator doors finally pinged open and Buffy had resisted the urge to pry them open quicker, she stormed out and zeroed in on Harmony who was filing her nails at her desk.

“What do you know?” Buffy barked at her.

Harmony jumped a mile and in the process, knocked over a can of Coke that had been resting on the desk next to her. “Jesus Buffy!” she yelped, “You scared the crap out of me.”

“I’m going to beatthe crap out of you if you don’t tell me what you know,” Buffy said, standing menacingly over Harmony.

Harmony looked at her strangely – oh if she only knew just how beyond pissed she was at the moment – she wouldn’t be acting like. . . Well, herself.

“What are you –oh, you mean your dad. I’m so sorry about that Bu—“

“Not that Harmony!” Buffy yelled.

“What are you—“

“Buffy? Do you think you should be here?” Drusilla.

Buffy’s eyes traveled to Drusilla’s. “You. Stupid. Fucking. Bitch.”

Despite the intensity and rage she felt coursing through her, and the way she felt she couldn’t have gotten there fast enough, Buffy approached Drusilla slowly; calmly even. Only her hands balled in fists with her fingernails digging into her palms leaving crescent marks and the fact that she was red faced and literally shaking from head to toe would have given away the fact that Buffy was about ready to knock Drusilla into next week.

“What did you do? Why did you have us followed?”

Drusilla had the audacity to look surprised. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you fucking play innocent with me, you stupid fucking bitch. You tell me right now that you did this, that you sent my father photos of me and William – that you were sick enough to have us followed – tell me!”

Harmony gasped.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Buffy. I know you’re upset dear, and you’re looking for something – or someone to blame—“

“Don’t lie to me!” Buffy screamed at her. “You put my father in the hospital!” Buffy started to lunge at her when she felt strong arms grab her and pull her back from behind.

“Buffy, stop!” William.

“Let go of me!” she shouted, “I’m going to rip her arms off and beat her with them! She did it, William, she did it!”

“Drusilla go home,” William told the dark haired woman angrily as he struggled to keep Buffy in his arms and stop her from attacking.

“But, William I—“

“Go home!”

Dru’s eyes widened and she sprinted to the elevator.

“Harmony, go with her.”

Harmony, not needing to be told twice, jumped up and followed, looking shocked and frightened and muttering to herself about ‘crazies’.

“Let goof me!” Buffy shouted at William, still struggling to get free. He held her about the waist and she was clawing at the air in front of her, reaching for the already departed Dru, her legs flailing, but somehow still missing William’s shins.

“Not until you calm down!” William shouted back.

“Elizabeth, stop, please.”

Buffy looked to see Wesley standing before her now, his expression sympathetic and worried. Angel stood behind him, looking the same.

Buffy burst into frustrated tears and her body went limp in William’s arms. “She did it,” she said weakly, “She did it. I know she did it.”

“Buffy, baby, please, calm down,” William said, gently.

“I know she did it Will. She did it,” Buffy pleaded with him to understand. Twisting her around, he gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair. “Buffy, ssshhh.”

Pushing at him with a growl, she moved back away from him. “You can’t keep her here,” she told him strongly.

“Buffy, I’m going to talk with her—“

“No! You don’t talktalk to her, you fire her!” She pointed to the closed elevator doors, “He had a heart attack because of her William. You can’t possibly be defending her now after that!”

“Elizabeth, he’s not,” Wesley said, placing a hand on her arm. “He’s not defending her. He can’t do anything without proof.”

“She’s hated my guts since I walked inhere. She somehow found out that we’re together and had us followed. She sent those pictures to my father, what more proof does he need? Did he need to die for him to see what she’s done?”

“Buffy!” William yelled at her and grabbed her arms, making her face him. He was red-faced and angry. A side to him she’d never seen, but she didn’t much care at that moment in time. All she could see was that Dru had nearly killed her father and she was stillthere and William was doing nothingabout it. To her, it was plain as day that Dru had done it. She didn’t need so-called ‘proof’; she could feel it in her very bones.

“I suspect Drusilla just as much as you and I’m certain she did it, just as much as you. But I want a confession out of her first. I want her telling me to my face that she did it,” his voice was surprisingly calm despite how angry he looked.

“I want to sue her,” Buffy blurted out. “I don’t want her to think she can get away with this. She messed with lives here.”

“We figured as much,” Wesley said behind her.

William released her and Wesley placed a hand on her arm comfortingly. Buffy looked up at him, suddenly feeling very tired. “Honey, how about we work something out with her instead okay? Such as, she pays for the hospital bills? That way we don’t have to put your father through a court procedure which would just put undue stress on him. As long as Drusilla admits to what she did, we can settle out of court. I’m sure she’s well aware – if she in fact did it – that she is facing a law suit from you. This way, there are no court fees as well. Though, we’d do it pro bono anyway for you and your father. But instead of going through a long drawn out procedure, we can do this right quick and be done with it.”

Buffy looked at William curiously, looking him up and down and noticing that he hadn’t changed and appeared no different than when she’d left him earlier. “Have you been home?”

He shook his head, “No. I was on my way home and I was thinking about Hank and how he was going to be all right and of course that made me think of yesterday and the pictures. I came here to speak with Wesley and Angel about my suspicions.”

“You thought it was her too?” she asked in a small voice.

William nodded and took a deep breath. “Yes, Buffy, I did. She’s the only one I can think of that would care enough to do such damage.”

Buffy rubbed her forehead, tiredly. “I just completely went postal didn’t I?”

“You had reason to, Elizabeth,” Angel chimed in. “You’ve been under a lot of stress in the past twenty four hours. It’s understandable under the circumstances. I don’t think anyone in their right mind wouldn’t be understanding of going ‘postal’ on someone who’s hurt someone you love.”

Buffy nodded, “Thanks. It seems all I’ve done is cry and freak out.” She looked over at William. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

“Buffy, it is. You’re upset—“

“Upset doesn’t seem to cover it. I feel crazy,” her eyes roamed over the men staring at her, “and on display,” she finished on a murmur. “I’m uh, going to go home now. See my mom.”

“Buffy, did you get any rest when you went home?” William asked, taking hold her now, gently.

“No, I went to school to get my homework. I couldn’t relax.”

“Nervous energy,” Wesley said, nodding.

Buffy smiled gently, “Quite.”

William’s hand slid to her hand where he curled his fingers around hers. “I was heading out when you came in. Come on.”

Feeling like a colossal moron for her display, Buffy waved shyly at Angel and Wesley and allowed William to pull her to the elevator.

Once inside, she slunk to the ground and buried her face in her hands. “I’m a mess.”

“No, you’re human. And even if you were a mess, you’re mymess,” William said with a smile in his voice.

She looked up at him. “I saw red.”

“Trust me, I understand. I made a beeline for Wesley’s office. I’d never hit a woman Buffy, but trust me, if I saw her; I doubt I would have been able to restrain myself.”

“Then why did you stop me? I could have hit her for you too.”

“Because she’d probably turn around and sue you instead,” William pointed out.

“Good point.”

“Buffy, do you want to come home with me for a while? We could take a bath and go to bed for a bit then swing by and get the car and Joyce and see Hank.”

She shook her head and climbed to her feet. “No, I want to go home and check on her. She didn’t look well this morning.”

“She was probably up all night worrying.”

“I left her a note telling her where I was so I should get home. Maybe I could make us dinner before we see my Dad.”

William gathered her in his arms. “Will you at least call me before you go over there? I’ll meet you there.”

She nodded, “Will do.”

He leaned in and kissed her gently. She could sense a need in him to deepen it, but he held himself back and she was grateful for it. She needed his comfort, not his overwhelming passion. “I love you, Buffy,” he told her softly, meeting her eyes and stroking her hair with his hand.

She didn’t know what the correct response to that was so she kissed him quickly, thankful when the elevator dinged open. “I’ll call you later,” she told him and hurried to the car to get home.

 

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