What is Choice?
Chapter Nine: When All Your Luck's Run Out on You

Buffy slowly entered her apartment. It was Friday night, and before, she would have been getting ready to see Will, or making preparations to drive down to San Diego. Instead, her whole weekend loomed before her. Xander was wrapped up with some new girlfriend, and Willow was interviewing for a job in Chicago. Dawn was working, she thought, so it looked like it would be Buffy Alone Time tonight.

Alone time sucked.

Buffy moved about the apartment, straightening up a few things before she made herself some dinner. Salad and a sandwich wasn't anything special, but she made herself eat. Too often in the past, she had let her emotional upheaval get in the way of her health, and she wasn't going to go down that road again. She ate and flipped through the day's mail and the newspaper, but her mind wasn't distracted from her concerns.

It had been a month since she had called Will, or Spike, or whoever he was. Calling him had been one of the hardest things she had ever done. She still wasn't quite sure where she had scraped up enough courage to do it. But she had meant what she had said to him. He could doubt that she was telling him the truth, doubt her mental stability, but she couldn't have him doubt her feelings.

She closed her eyes in sadness when a chain of memories unrolled in her mind. Seeing Spike preparing for his death, and his reaction to her declaration of love. Running from him, knowing that she was leaving him to die. Standing at the edge of the crater, as her memories were erased and she thought only of herself, and she smiled, the bitch that she was.

Buffy sniffed, her eyes opening. Of course, the memories with Will were just as bad, if not worse. The look on his face when she had said "I love you," how happy she had made him. The kisses they had shared, the way she had felt so complete. And then, the horror of reading his book and feeling betrayed. And the other look on his face, complete surprise and sadness.

It had been forty-one days since she had seen him last. Twenty-nine since she had talked to him last. It seemed like she was spending her life counting the days, wondering how many days would pass before she could live again. Because she was scared that only Will coming back would let her live again, and that didn't seem to be in her future. So she faced the prospect of hundreds and thousands of days without him.

She realized that her tears were dripping on the newspaper, and she pushed all the papers and the dishes from in front of her. She dropped her head onto her arms, and let the tears fall from her eyes. She couldn't even sob, she was so exhausted from her sadness.

The sound of a slamming door made her jerk her head up, surprised to see Dawn walk through the doorway. Dawn took one look at her sister, and said, "Okay, that's it."

Buffy watched in surprise as Dawn moved about the kitchen. She opened the freezer and pulled forth two cartons of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and grabbed two spoons out of the silverware drawer. Dawn came over to Buffy, and handed her a container of New York Super Fudge Chunk and a spoon. "Come," Dawn ordered. Buffy, feeling too dazed to argue, followed her sister into the living room.

"Sit down," Dawn said, pointing at the sofa as she detoured down the hall. Dawn came back, holding a box of tissues, to see Buffy already digging into the ice cream. Dawn joined her on the sofa, and for a few moments, the sisters merely spooned ice cream up and looked at each other.

Dawn finally stopped eating, leaving her spoon in her Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup. She said, "All right. I think it's time, don't you, Buffy?"

Buffy pulled her knees up, and set the ice cream next to her. "Yeah, I think so. At the very least, I'm getting some ice cream out of this."

Dawn didn't respond to the jibe, and Buffy sighed. "I'm warning you now, this is a really long story." Dawn nodded, and Buffy continued. "Once upon a time, there was one girl in the world, chosen to fight the vampires--"

"I know this story!" Dawn said, bouncing a little.

Buffy grinned, despite her sadness. "Hush. Anyway, in this story, you have your vampire slayer, named Buffy. And you have your vampire, named Spike. And one day they meet . . ."

**

Buffy gazed around the room. Tissues and empty ice cream cartons littered the couch and the floor. Dawn still had tears streaming down her cheeks, but Buffy felt calmer than she had in days.

'Wow, who would have thought talking could make you feel better?' Buffy thought ironically, with a touch of amusement. She shook her head, and reached out to hug Dawn.

"I know it's a lot to take in. Trust me, it's taken me this long to get everything figured out, and I still think I've only scratched the surface. I mean, note my lack of progress in figuring out how to talk to Will."

Dawn sniffed, and grabbed a tissue to wipe her face. "So you know you love him?"

Buffy smiled sadly. "Oh, yeah. I don't care what his name is-William the Bloody or William Smythe. His past as Spike is part of him, but I'm still gonna love him."

"So what are you gonna do?"

Buffy sighed. "I don't know, Dawn. I called him about a month ago, and we talked about his book. I had kinda hoped that we could start talking, you know? I mean, I wasn't going to blurt out on the phone, 'Hey, you used to be a hundred-year-old vampire who fell so in love with me, you got a soul and helped save the world, and thus died.' I don't think that's very good phone etiquette."

"But since then?" Dawn asked.

"Nothing. He hasn't called, and I don't know if I can call him again. I mean, I keep making the moves, and he seems open, but then, nothing."

Dawn rolled her eyes at her sister. "You called him once."

"Twice!" Buffy interjected.

"A phone call where he breaks up with you does not count as calling to make amends. You were calling to fix the fight that first time. And the second phone call, you were all business, talking about the book, making sure he didn't hate you. You still haven't made the crucial 'calling to fix the breakup' call. You haven't called to find out if he loves you."

"What in the world are you babbling about? You've been reading too much Cosmo," Buffy said, wrinkling her nose. "Or listening to way too much Stevie Wonder, which is just sad at your age."

Dawn narrowed her eyes. "At any point during the last phone call, did you say, 'I love you'? 'I still want to be with you'? 'I'm miserable without you'?"

Buffy squirmed a bit. "Well, not exactly. But he should have been able to tell!"

"Buffy, what was the first rule about boys that you told me?"

"Um, always make him pay for the first date?" Buffy said weakly.

Dawn groaned. "No, Little Miss Amnesiac. 'Boys are stupid. They don't know how you feel until you tell them, and they don't know how they feel until you tell them.' Now, with that as our starting point, have you told him how you feel? No. Have you told him how he feels? No."

"Well, when you put it that way," Buffy griped.

Dawn got up, and went to the table where the cordless phone was located. "Buffy, I'm telling you. You've been sitting here waiting for him to show up with roses and chocolates, proclaiming his undying love for you, no matter what. You've never waited for anything in your life--you've always gone after it, and gotten it, whether it was a guy or a Chirago demon. So call him, and get him back." She carried the phone over, and held it out to Buffy.

Buffy stared at the phone, and then looked up at Dawn. "What if he doesn't want to come back?"

Dawn's face softened, but her voice was firm. "At least then you won't be waiting anymore. Life's too short to wait."

Buffy took the phone from Dawn, and held it in her hands, just staring at it for a moment. It was scary how much importance she was placing on just a phone call. 'You're probably going to get his machine,' she thought to herself. 'Because he's out having fun with a girl who isn't crazy, who can give him what he needs.'

Just as she was about to start punching in his number, the phone rang. Buffy jumped in her seat, and she stared at Dawn. "It's him, I know it!"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "That only happens in the movies." Buffy didn't make any motions to answer the phone, and Dawn said, "Oh, for Pete's sake," before she grabbed the phone away from Buffy. "Hello?" she said.

Dawn's eyes widened, and she glanced at Buffy. Buffy felt her heart speed up, and she felt like she was going to throw up.

"Hi, Will," Dawn said, her voice guarded. "Yes, she's here." Dawn pulled the phone away from her ear, and started handing it to Buffy, but then pulled it back to her ear. "Listen, you jerk, if you hurt her, I promise you, I know people who can make your life an utter vale of misery. And I'm one of them. Understand?"

Whatever Will said obviously had satisfied Dawn, because she handed the phone to Buffy, and then went into her room, closing the door behind her.

Buffy took a deep breath and lifted the phone to her ear. "Hi."

"Hi."

Buffy nearly sighed. His voice was just so . . . good. Hearing it float across the phone lines to her ears was like listening to heaven. She somehow managed to make her mouth work, despite the feelings swirling through her. "Haven't heard from you in a while."

He cleared his throat, and said, "Um, I know. And I'm sorry about that. Just . . . something came up, and before I knew it, weeks had gone by."

She didn't know how she felt. She thought he sounded a bit ashamed, but she thought she also heard excitement in his voice.

"How's your mom doing?" she asked, mentally shuddering as she fell back onto "safe" topics to keep the conversation going.

"She's good, really good. I talked to her yesterday, and she's planning to come down and visit me soon. How's Dawn?"

"Other than making threats, she's been doing well. She's all set to start at at UCLA in the fall."

"Still planning on creating a whole new system for landscape design?"

"Yes," Buffy said, trying not to scream in frustration that they were talking about her sister and not them. "I can't watch Ground Force on BBCAmerica without listening to her numerous critiques."

Will laughed a bit, and she felt her heart shriveling up. 'Oh, please please please, tell me you love me,' she thought.

Suddenly, she couldn't take this anymore. "Will, I don't think you called me so we could chat about our relatives. I . . . I think you know how I feel. I still feel that way. And if you don't feel the same, or don't think you could feel that way again, please just hang up now and let me get over this."

She bit her lip, knowing that she said too much, but she couldn't bear this agony of not knowing.

She could hear him breathing, and finally, after ten seconds that felt like ten years, he said, "I can't tell you, Buffy."

"What?" she said, shock permeating her voice. "You can't tell me? What the hell does that mean?"

"Look, I can't. Not yet. All right? I think this talking on the phone thing isn't working for us. I'm coming up to LA next weekend. Could we go out to dinner?"

"Are you sure?" Buffy asked, trying to reign in the hostility that was masking her fear.

"Yes. Can I pick you up on Saturday at six?"

"That's fine," Buffy said.

"Good," he said, sounding a bit relieved. "Buffy, I know you want more from me. And . . . I want to give you everything I can, but there's just something I have to take care of first. But I'll explain everything on Saturday."

Buffy sighed. "I hope so, Will. Because . . . I can't do this for much longer."

"I know, pet. I'll see you on Saturday."

Buffy hung up the phone, more confused than she'd been before. He couldn't tell her how he felt? What was this mysterious "thing" that was taking up all his attention?

Dawn popped her head out of her room. "So? I don't spy any tears, or hear any angry screams."

"That's because there's no signs for when you're so confused you don't know which end is up," Buffy said wryly, rubbing her hand over her face. "He's taking me out to dinner on Saturday."

Dawn's face lit up. "And?"

"And nothing. I was a big old girl and basically said, 'Oh, please tell me you love me' and he said, and I quote, 'I can't tell you, Buffy.' Kept talking about something going on that he had to take care of first." Buffy shook her head. "And guys say WE'RE confusing."

"But hey, progress--you're going to see him. That's a definite step in the right direction."

"I guess," Buffy said. Then, panic crossed her face, and she looked at Dawn. "What am I gonna wear?"

Dawn looked at Buffy, and in unison, the two girls dashed to Buffy's room to perform an emergency wardrobe inventory.

**

Buffy was sure that some wars had been planned and implemented with less thought and preparation than she'd used for her dinner with Will. She'd spent part of the afternoon in the salon, getting her hair and nails done. She was wearing one of her favorite dresses, one that Will had once said made her look like a mermaid: a pale green dress with spaghetti straps. She wore new earrings and a necklace that her mother had given her. Dawn had contributed a gorgeous clutch that matched her silver sandals perfectly.

In short, she sure hoped he wasn't taking her to KFC for dinner.

"Stop fidgeting," Dawn said. "You look wonderful. He's gonna take one look at you, and after not seeing you for all this time, he's gonna fall head over heels for you."

Buffy stared at her hair in the hall mirror. "Why did I let the hairdresser talk me into highlights? It looks like a four-year-old with Parkinson's applied these."

Dawn pulled her sister away from the mirror, and put her hands on Buffy's shoulders. "Buffy, listen to me. You are a beautiful, caring, intelligent woman. Will would be an idiot if he can't see that. And we both know he's not an idiot. So remember how much you love him, and don't get scared and lash out."

"I never do that."

Dawn merely raised her eyebrow.

"Well, hardly ever," Buffy said. At Dawn's expression of disbelief, Buffy groaned and said, "Fine, fine, I'll remember."

"All of it, Buffy," Dawn said, her face serious.

Buffy smiled softly at her sister. "I'll remember, Dawn. You're the best." She pulled Dawn in for a hug, and once again gave thanks for Dawn's presence in her life.

The doorbell rang, and Buffy's nerves returned in full force. But she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then, with a hand squeeze from Dawn, she went and opened the door.

He had bleached his hair. She felt her jaw drop open in surprise, feeling like she was looking at a ghost. Instead of the casual preppy style he'd worn before, now he was all in black: pants, silk shirt, and topping it all off, a leather duster. He stood before her, looking cocky and powerful, yet she could still see those aspects that seemed like Will. She could see his fear and insecurity, shining through the bleach and the attitude.

He might look like Spike. He might act like Will. But she knew she loved him.

She felt tears well up in her eyes, and her breath caught in her throat. It was so hard, to see him standing before her, looking so much like Spike, when she was the only person on Earth who knew what Spike looked like. How much goodness Spike had held within himself, how much the world owed him. She didn't understand why he looked different. Her brain was still trying to process the shock of seeing Will's personality clothed in Spike's look. She wondered if it was a sign from the Fates, giving her their blessing.

She stood in the doorway, her hand still on the door, taking it all in. Then, she realized he was standing on the doorstep, waiting for her to either invite him in or step outside. "Oh! Come in."

Will smiled at her. "Thanks. How are you doing?"

"Good, I'm good. How are you?"

Will shuffled his feet. "All right, I guess."

"You changed your hair," Buffy said, before clapping a hand over her mouth.

Will laughed. "Yeah, felt like I needed a change." His eyes locked with hers, and the smile faded from his face. "You look beautiful."

Buffy blushed. "Thank you." She looked around, and realized that Dawn was standing in the hall, watching this scene. "Um, Dawn . . . "

Will lifted his hand. "Hi, Dawn. Remembering your warning."

Dawn nodded. "You should. I like the coat. Buffy, I'll see you later." She walked down the hall, and Buffy nearly raced after her and told her she had to stay, so that Buffy wouldn't do anything stupid.

Buffy took another deep breath. No one was going to be able to fix their problems, except the two of them.

She faced Will. "Shall we?"

Will nodded, and as she walked past him, she felt his hand touch the small of her back briefly. The slight contact sent tingles through her, and she felt her knees weaken.

'Oh, God,' she thought. 'I can forget all the bad stuff when he touches me.'

They were quiet as they walked out of her apartment building and got in his car. She noticed that his car, for once, was clean--before, it had always been littered with cigarette butts, fast food wrappers, and CDs.

She gazed out the window to prevent herself from staring at him. Taking in all the changes that didn't really change him that much. One thing she had realized, in the time away from him, was that Will wasn't that different from Spike. At least, the Spike she had seen at the end: a caring, tender man, but a man through and through. Will wasn't some prissy wimp, soft or ineffectual. He was capable of standing up for himself, and for what he believed in. He had a bit of a temper, and wasn't above being crude to make his point.

All the personality quirks that she loved about him were always there, whether he was Will or Spike. And, there were things about him that drove her crazy, made her want to strangle him. But he wouldn't be him if he didn't drive her out of her mind every once in a while.

At some points during those weeks apart, she had considered telling Will what she had discovered about him. But she couldn't help but fear that there would be a repeat of what happened when she finally had to reveal her past to him. He wouldn't believe her. How could he? It was so completely amazing, to consider the idea that you had been a powerful, century-old vampire who redeemed himself through the power of love. It'd make a great movie, but as reality?

Even more importantly, she wouldn't do that to Will. Give him all that pain and sadness that he wouldn't be able to handle. She couldn't torture him like that.

She moved her shoulders up and down, trying to dispel the feeling of dread she felt. She looked over towards him, and felt a smile blooming on her lips. It was amazing, how just looking at him made her happy.

She realized that he was glancing over at her, and he gave her a quick smile in return. "What's put that smile on your face?" he asked, his voice curious.

"Oh, nothing. Happy non-thoughts."

He shook his head. "Amazing, how you butcher the English language."

"Yes, while you speak the Queen's English, Mr. Sod This."

"Well, I'm sure the Queen says that on occasion," Will retorted, his mouth flashing in a smile.

She smiled back, and said, "So, where are we going?"

"I know this place. Thought it'd be nice--near the water, with great seafood."

Buffy's mind flashed to the restaurant they had eaten at the night they had first made love. She closed her eyes, and tried not to give away her thoughts. "Sounds great."

The rest of the drive was silent, and when they pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, Buffy nearly sighed with pleasure. The restaurant was small, romantic-looking, and the smells wafting from inside made her mouth water. Will came around and opened her car door, and she smiled at him, impressed with the little gestures he was making. His hand once again rested against her back. As they walked inside, she caught a glimpse of the two of them in a mirror, and she thought, 'We look good together.'

Her confidence renewed, Buffy smiled up at Will and followed the waiter to their table.

**

She didn't feel like smiling anymore.

They had gone through appetizer, salad, and entree, and Will was barely talking to her. She kept grasping for things to talk about, and she'd only get monosyllabic answers out of him. She tried talking about politics, new movies, and about some of her stranger customers. Nothing seemed to get him talking.

She sighed as dessert was placed in front of her. Chocolate cake. Just like last time. She wanted to cry over how different that night had been from this one.

Buffy picked up her fork, and stabbed her cake. She shoveled a piece into her mouth, and looked over at Will. He was toying with his cake, his attention focused on the table. Frustrated beyond belief, Buffy dropped her fork on her plate.

"Will, look at me."

At the sound of her voice, his head whipped up, and she felt herself lose focus for a moment when his bluer-than-blue eyes locked with hers. She gave herself a quick shake, and pressed forward. "I thought we were having dinner together so we could talk. But you've barely said two words to me." She paused, and felt her voice tremble a little when she said, "Has this been a mistake?"

Will sighed, and reached across the table. His fingers rested on the top of her hand, and she automatically turned her hand over so he could wrap his hand around hers. "I'm sorry. It's just that every time I've tried to say something, it sounds so trite and stupid in my head."

"I know how that feels," she said softly. "Why do you think I've been babbling all evening? I'm trying to find the right words."

Will gave her a slight grin. "Writer, pet. Words are supposed to come easily to me."

"That can't be the case all the time. You must have had writer's block sometimes," Buffy said.

"Yeah, once or twice," Will admitted.

"So how'd you work through it?"

"Lots of staring out the window, trying to avoid the computer."

A silence fell between them, their hands their only connection. Buffy gazed at their hands, and finally said, "What if we say the thing we regret most, about what happened between us? You go first."

She could see Will's throat contract as he swallowed, and he said, in a thick voice, "What I said to you, that morning when you called me. Especially the last thing I said." He looked at her, his eyes sincere. "You didn't deserve that, love."

Buffy bit her lip, her heart thudding at his admission. "It was how you felt at the time, Will. Even I know I came off as a complete nut, not to mention the Empress of Bad Timing."

Will shook his head. "Still doesn't mean I don't regret it, Buffy."

She was silent for a moment, and then said, "Not telling you about my past. We had known each other long enough, and with the . . . feelings I have for you, there's no excuse for me to keep that from you. I guess I didn't realize how much it affects me still. Your book clued me in to that one."

Will nodded, his eyes focused on their hands. He brought his other hand over, and began tracing circles on the back of her hand. She closed her eyes, and a breathy sigh issued from her lips.

She opened her eyes to find his gaze roving over her face, taking in every detail. Suddenly, he said, "Do you want to go take a walk on the beach?"

Buffy nodded, and he flashed a quick smile at her as he called the waiter over for their check.

After paying the bill, Will rose from his chair, and helped her out of hers. He took her hand in his as they walked out of the restaurant and headed towards the beach. Once they hit the sand, Will dropped his coat, which he had been carrying over his arm, on the sand, and kicked off his shoes. She followed his lead, leaving her sandals and tucking her purse under his coat. She looked at him for a moment, and then extended her hand towards him. He grasped it, and she couldn't help smiling at him.

They walked along the shoreline for a few moments, heading away from the lights and noise. The waves and their feet pushing against the sand were soon the only sounds.

Buffy felt happiness swelling up inside her like a bubble. She thought this was going to be so hard, full of tears and uncomfortable moments. But they seemed to fit back together, like a key into a lock. Their steps slowed, and soon, they stopped. Buffy stared at the ocean, and then turned to look at Will. She smiled at him again, wanting him to know that his presence was all she needed to be happy.

The smile that flashed across his face was like the sun breaking through a cloud. He took a step towards her, and lifted his other hand towards her face. Her eyes fluttered shut when he rubbed his thumb across her cheek.

"Buffy?" he said in a quiet voice. "Can I kiss you?"

She opened her eyes, and tried to put all her feelings in her eyes. She lifted her chin, and angled her face towards his. He bent down, and their lips met.

She sighed into the kiss, his mouth tasting brand-new yet not. Her lips parted beneath his, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. She grasped his shoulders, needing something to hang on to, needing him.

He moved away from her mouth, and ran his mouth over her cheek, towards her ear. "Buffy . . . " he murmured.

She let her eyes close. "Oh, Spike."

As soon as she realized what she had said, she jerked away from him, her hands flying up to cover her mouth as if she could cram the words back past her lips.

Will looked at her. His face was tragic in its lack of expression. "So that's how it is," he said, softly. "Guess they were wrong when they said you loved me, regardless of my name. You say his name when I'm kissing you."

Buffy's mind was addled from the kiss and from what had just happened. "What? Who are they? And you don't understand, Will . . . let me explain. You're Spike."

Will snorted. "I know. But am I, really?"

Buffy frowned in confusion. "Wait, you know? How is that possible? And oh my God. How are you handling all of it?"

She stepped towards him, wanting to touch him, reassure herself that he was here with her, sane and not broken from the weight of all those memories, good and bad. Instead, he took a step back, and said, "Why should you care? You've got Spike back, just inconveniently in the body of Will."

Buffy nearly let her anger take over. She wanted to give him a good slap against the side of his head, tell him to stop being so sensitive, and go back to kissing her. "Will, please. It's not like that at all. You're making things too complicated."

"Oh, I don't think I'm making it any more complicated than it is, Buffy. You want Spike, and you think you can have him now. Excuse me for being a bit concerned about those parts of me that don't fall in line with the way Spike thinks."

Okay, so anger was starting to win out. "Listen to me, you idiot. You might think you've got some kind of wacky multiple personality going on, but you don't. Whether you call some aspects of yourself 'Will' and others 'Spike', they're all you. And I don't care who's who. I just know that I love you, no matter what your name is."

Will sighed. "I'm sorry, Buffy . . . I just don't know . . . "

"Bullshit," she retorted. "You know who you are. Why else would you bleach your hair, and get a leather duster, but still wear clothes that are like Will's? You're still writing! Spike wouldn't have been caught dead writing anything--those memories hurt too much for him to think about writing. Don't you see, Will? Spike isn't taking you over. He's already you."

Will stared at her in surprise, and then stalked away from her, moving quickly. She nearly sank down on the ground, torn between screaming and crying. But something within her told her to follow him. He had a good head start on her, but she managed to catch up with him by the time he had reached his coat and their shoes. But he ignored them, and headed towards his car.

Ignoring the way the paved lot scratched against her bare feet, Buffy kept after him, and paused at the side of the car as he roughly pulled his keys out of his pocket and opened the trunk of his car. He pulled forth an accordion file, and for a minute, she felt a flash of fear. Was he still upset over her reaction to his book? Was this some kind of test? Would he only be satisfied if she made it through his book?

He turned towards her, a wild, manic look in his eyes. "I wrote another book. It's for you," he said, thrusting the accordion file at her. "I want you to read it. I'll take you home, and you can call me when you finish it."

"Will, I don't understand," she said, clutching the file to her chest.

"Read the book," he said emphatically. She stared after him as he sprinted back to the beach, picked up their things, and came back. She was silent during the drive back to her apartment. When they arrived, she paused for a moment, and looked at Will.

"I wish you could talk to me, instead of asking me to read this, Will."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he didn't say anything. Buffy sighed, gathered her things and the file, and got out of his car. She walked slowly, turning once before she entered the building. Will had parked by a spotlight, and she could see into the car.

And she could see the tears running down his cheeks. She wanted so much to go to him, kiss away those tears and make him talk to her. For once, she thought she might be able to say the right words; she was able to do the talking thing, finally, thanks to him. But she knew that you both had to talk, and clearly, he didn't want to. She turned away and walked inside, her steps growing faster so she could get to her apartment and into her bedroom before she let herself break down.

End, Chapter Nine
 

What is Choice?
Chapter Ten: So Kiss Me and Smile for Me

Buffy entered her bedroom calmly. Thankfully, Dawn had left for a babysitting job, so she wasn't there to see her sister enter the apartment and move stiffly towards her room.

She deposited the file on her bed, and methodically took off her dress and hung it up, placing her shoes in their spot on the floor within the closet. Her earrings and necklace were placed in her jewelry box, the purse laid on her dresser to be returned to Dawn in the morning.

Buffy caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, dressed only in the scant lingerie she had chosen in the wild hopes that Will would be seeing it. She stared at her hands, wringing together, and tried not to let her tears fall. She slipped into her pajamas, and sat on her bed, staring at the accordion file.

"I hope that this will all be worth it in the end, Will," she said softly. "If it's not, I'm gonna kick your ass." Despite her bravado, she knew that if anyone could hear her, they'd know how she really felt.

She leaned forward and drew the file towards her. With hands that shook only slightly, she opened the file and pulled forth the first batch of papers. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to prepare herself for what she might find.

She opened her eyes, and read the title page.

"What is Choice? By William Smythe."

Further down the page, she spotted another sentence, in smaller type. She brought the paper up to her face, so she could read it, and couldn't help the small smile that drifted across her face.

"For Buffy. To answer her questions."

She flipped the page face-down, and started reading. And she felt her heart pick up speed as she read.

**

Will sat in his car for a few moments after Buffy vanished into her building, knowing that she spotted the tears on his face but not caring. He had just put all his faith into his abilities with the written word, and her reaction to those words.

Considering how she'd taken it the last time, he wasn't sure if he wasn't dumber than a sack of hammers. Or a glutton for punishment.

Will sighed, and started his car. What he had said in the restaurant was exactly how he felt. Talking was usually so simple for him, but not this time. Not with her, not when he was trying to explain all the still-contradictatory feelings inside him. After the visit from Doyle, it was like he had been possessed. All he could think about was writing out their story. Putting down on paper all the feelings he had for Buffy, exploring all the options, and hoping that she could see how much he loved her from his words.

Perhaps it was a coward's way out. Will saw it as a way to present his feelings with few chances of bollocksing it up.

'Of course, she wanted to talk to you, wanker,' he thought to himself. 'Maybe she won't be so impressed by your pretty phrases, and just wants you to be open and honest with her by opening your mouth and just letting what you feel come out.'

Will rolled his eyes heavenwards. The insecurity that Dru had created within him raised its head at the most inopportune times. And of course, there was the natural human tendency to worry more about the ones that mattered. He sometimes pondered what would have happened if he had picked up the phone that night, instead of turning on his computer.

It was too late now to know, of course. But as he drove away, he couldn't help wondering what Buffy was feeling at this moment.

**

She read quickly, devouring his words. The writing was unlike anything she'd ever read before. It was so different from what she'd read of his first book. That one, while probably technically brilliant, seemed to maintain a bit of emotional distance. She hadn't felt very engaged in the story or the characters. Of course, that could also be because it was more like reading her diary than reading a work of fiction.

But this . . . she couldn't believe how much each word touched her heart, her soul. The language was so beautiful, full of simple truths and heart-felt emotion. Tears blurred her vision, and she found she had to pause more than once to regain control of her emotions before she could continue.

She knew that he had this all in him. She had been struck more than once by his talent with words. The way they could banter back and forth, trading quips at lightning speed, had been one of her favorite things about their relationship. The fact that she could match him, even best him, had always given her a huge burst of confidence. And those times when he would look at her, and let slip a tender phrase, or a sentence of perfect beauty, she'd always melted.

She read and read, ignoring the time as the night gave way to dawn. When she turned over the last sheet of paper, she was shocked to look at her clock and see that it was 7:30 in the morning. She yawned, but sleep was the last thing from her mind. She stood, and stretched, before padding out of her room.

In the kitchen, she found Dawn eating cereal and reading the newspaper. She looked up at Buffy. "Hey--sleep late?" Then she did a double-take, and said, "Or at all?"

Buffy shook her head, rubbing her eyes. "No, I didn't."

Dawn looked at Buffy, and when she didn't say anything further said, "So? Spill. What happened?"

Buffy sat down at the table, and looked at Dawn. "I thought we were working everything out. And then, when we kissed--"

"You kissed!" Dawn cheered.

"Don't get all excited," Buffy said brokenly. "I called him Spike."

Dawn deflated like a kid who just lost her balloon. "Oh, no."

Buffy nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I can always find a new way to mess things up."

"Buffy, no," Dawn said, reaching across the table and resting her hand over Buffy's.

"Yeah, well," Buffy said, a bit angrily, as she pulled away from Dawn. "I called him Spike, and he reacted just as you'd expect. I tried to be logical, and then I got angry and told him basically that he was an idiot but I still loved him. He didn't seem to hear that, though."

"So why the lack of sleep? I mean, you couldn't have spent all night staring at the walls in your room."

"No, I had a reason to stay up," Buffy said, running her hands through her hair. "Will gave me a book to read. A book he wrote. And it's about us-or, me and Spike, and then me and Will. About how we fell in love and how it made him feel, how it changed him and made him a better man."

Buffy stared at the tabletop, and raised eyes to Dawn that were shimmering with tears. "I don't understand him. He said I should read the book to understand, but I don't. If he can write such beautiful things, and make me feel so much, why can't he just talk to me? He's never had this problem before--he always wanted to 'chat things out' when I didn't want to. Why does he suddenly not want to talk?"

Dawn gazed at Buffy, and said, "I don't know, Buffy. After all, you know him best. In all his incarnations. Maybe that's the key to figuring this all out."

Buffy nodded. "I think you may be right. It's just a matter of being able to figure out Will, who's like Spike, but not really. Should be easy," she said, weakly.

"You'll figure it out, Buffy. After all, you love him. You'll find the right way."

Buffy let her gaze drift off into space as she let Dawn's statement roll around in her brain, like a pebble in a stream. And as she sat there, she started to develop an idea.

**

Will drove aimlessly for hours, trying to put off the inevitable. As each hour rolled over on the dashboard clock, he thought, 'An hour closer to finding out. Closer to knowing what she feels. Closer to being alone again. And it's all your fault.'

Finally, he didn't trust himself anymore, and he pulled into the parking lot at a small beach. He got out, and walked towards the sand. He didn't know why he was torturing himself like this. He was putting so much on the line, and instead of fighting, he was slinking away, hoping for the best. That wasn't like him.

He stared at the water for a moment, before sitting down. He pulled his knees up, and hugged them to his chest. The sky behind him was that dark purple that was growing lighter every moment, as the sun rose. Of course, he was looking toward the west, so the sky stayed dark even with the increasing light. It suited his mood. If he only could accept what was behind him, he could have light. Instead, he chose to face forward, and risk the dark.

"Hello."

Will looked over his shoulder, surprised to hear a voice. Standing behind him was a slim woman, with long dark hair. For a moment, he was reminded of the cheerleader that had worked with Angel, but as she took a step towards him, he realized this woman was less pretty, but more spiritual-looking. Not to mention dressed much worse--was she really wearing flip-flops with a tulle skirt?

She smiled at him, and asked in a voice tinged with a Canadian accent, "Mind if I sit down?"

Will shook his head, confused. The woman sat down next to him, and mimicked his position. They sat in silence for moments, the waves the only noise. The sky grew ever lighter, even in front of them, and Will felt a sense of peace filling him for the first time in weeks.

The woman next to him sighed, and he looked over at her. "Makes you think, doesn't it?" he said, his voice quiet.

She nodded, and smiled a little. "Whenever I feel like I don't know why I do the things I do, I come here and watch the ocean. It helps, every time."

"Yeah. Know what you mean," Will said. They stared back out at the water, and gradually, Will felt his legs straightening out, his need to stay curled up within himself receeding. He breathed deeply, taking in the saltish air, and feeling some of the sun's warmth on his back.

"There's this girl," Will said, pausing when he realized he'd started speaking. "I love her so much, but we've got a long history between us. One that wasn't very good. We . . . we had made a fresh start, and it was so good between us; it was like the past hadn't happened at all," he said, biting his lip at the omissions he had to make in talking about Buffy.

"What happened?" the woman asked, her voice tinged with a respectful curiosity.

"Well, you know what they say about 'the past coming back to haunt you'? It did, in a big way. So now we're so careful of the elephant in the room, we can't solve anything between us. And I had a chance last night, and I blew it. I gave her something I wrote and asked her to read that, instead of talking to her like she wanted." Will blew out a breath. "And now I'm scared that there's no coming back from this. That we'll continue in this pattern of being too close and too far, and never just right." He grimaced. "She's Goldilocks, and I'm always the wrong sodding bear."

The woman rested the side of her head on her knees, turning her chocolate-brown eyes on him. "Do you actually feel that way? That there's no hope?"

Will shrugged. "I'll always have hope. But hope for the two of us to work this out? That's a bit in short supply."

"I don't believe that there's ever something that you can't come back from. There's always hope," she said firmly. "It's just a matter of how much you're willing to work. How much you're willing to suffer in order to get the reward."

Will felt his anger rising a bit. "Awfully preachy of you, love. How would you know what's happened between us? Maybe I'm an abusive bastard, trying to find a way to apologize for the latest bruises. Maybe she's been cheating on me and I can't decide if I want to take the risk of it happening again. How can you advise me?"

She bore his words calmly. "Because I doubt that's the situation. You're just two normal people stumbling around as blindly as anyone else on this planet. Your past is extraordinary, I'm sure, but it's the past. It's not a matter of making a new start, it's a matter of continuing the story. Seeing if you can make the choice."

"And what choice is that, love?" he retorted testily.

She gazed at him, and made sure that his eyes were fixed on her before speaking. "The choice to suffer for love, because love is the greatest reward." She paused, and reached out to lay her fingers against his forehead. "You know that better than anyone: the fool for love that was William and Spike, but is now all Will."

When she touched him, he felt an odd jolt of clarity, like he was in the middle of an epiphany. He jerked away, surprised, and the feeling faded, grew hazy. She looked at him, her eyes seeming to know everything. He stared back at her, and then, her last words sunk in. "Huh? How did you know my name?"

Before she could say anything, his cell phone rang. Will looked down at his pockets, pulling it out and glancing back at the woman to ask her to excuse him, only to be shocked to see that she had disappeared. He gazed at the spot where she had sat, no sign that she had even been there, as his phone rang.

Finally, he snapped out of his trance and clicked the phone on. "Hello?"

"Um, hi."

He felt his heart flip when he realized who it was. "Buffy?"

"Yes, it's me. Although I don't know what to call you," she said softly, hesitantly.

"Um, Will. Still Will."

"Will," she said, her voice sounding sweeter than summer berries. "I was hoping you could come over tonight. I read the book."

"You did?" he said, feeling a wave of relief wash over him, but before he even had a chance to get used to that, his nerves started jangling.

"Yes, I did. Since I did what you asked, I thought we could talk some tonight. For once, I think I've gotten the hang of this talking thing that so many people rave about," she said, her voice bemused. Despite her attempt at levity, he couldn't help but feel that there was a layer of sadness overlying her words, making anything she said seem incredibly poignant.

He coughed, trying to speak past the lump in his throat. "Seems only fair," he said. "What time should I come over?"

"Around 8, all right?"

"That's fine," he said. He paused, not wanting to hang up quite yet. "Buffy?"

"Yes, Will?" she said, sounding like she was trying to keep her voice calm.

"I . . . " His voice trailed off, afraid of saying what he felt and not wanting to do this over the phone. "I . . . I'll see you tonight, then."

He heard her sigh softly, before saying, "Bye."

He hung up the phone, and slipped it into his pocket. He looked out towards the water one more time. The sky was completely light now, and he found he preferred it that way. Once, the dark was his world. It filled his present, his past, and his future. Now, though, the brightness of day seemed to be all he wanted.

The woman's words came back to him, talking about a choice. As he gazed at the sunlight bouncing off the waves, he realized that he knew what his choice was. She had called him a fool for love. He had thought before that he'd gotten past that, but he hadn't, not really. Not till now, because he wasn't a fool for love anymore.

He was only a man in love.

**

Buffy gazed around the living room, taking in all the details. Together with Dawn and Xander, she had spent all day preparing for tonight, and she could only hope that their preparation wasn't in vain.

Because it would hurt much too much if it was.

She checked the clock, and sighed when she realized it was nearly time. Now that the moment was here, she felt so tired. She had made herself take a nap earlier, but she was so exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the past day and a half that she wasn't sure if she was completely lucid. She had spent most of the day moving around like she was in a dream, a fairy princess asleep.

She had created the perfect setting, and she could only hope her prince charming would see it, realize what it meant, and bring her back to life with a kiss.

Buffy gazed off, her eyes unfocused, for a few moments, before the doorbell snapped her out of her trance. She took a deep breath. Dawn had gone to spend the night at Willow's, so the apartment was hers. For better or for worse, things would be settled here, tonight.

She moved towards the door, her steps quiet on the carpet. She pulled open the door, and smiled at Will. No matter what, he would always be the most handsome man she'd ever seen. So different from the type of man she thought she'd fall in love with, but he was the only one who made her believe in fate, in the idea that there really was someone that had been created just for her.

She watched his eyes take in her outfit, looking a bit puzzled at her choice. A pair of jeans, even if they were her favorite pair, and a cream-colored blouse, while attractive, wasn't exactly romantic, she knew. But there was a reason for it. A reason for every choice she'd made in shaping this evening. In this case, it was the outfit she had been wearing when she met him.

"Hello, Will," she said, standing aside so he could enter the apartment.

"Hi," he said, looking a bit nervous.

She looked down at his hands, at the bouquet of wildflowers clutched there. "Are those for me?" she asked, trying to keep her expression calm, neutral.

He followed her gaze, and realized she was talking about the flowers. "Oh, yeah." He held them out to her, and she accepted them. Carrying them into the kitchen, she pulled a vase out of a cabinet, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers in them. She came back to the hallway, carrying the vase, and said to Will, "Follow me," as she walked towards the living room.

Buffy felt her breath speed up as she entered the living room. With Xander's help, she had moved most of her furniture out of the living room, leaving only a beat-up chair and an old loveseat that she had picked up at Goodwill that morning. The television was sitting on a small stand in a corner near the chair, while a long table ran along one side of the room. The windows were draped in gauzy white fabric that made the moonlight shining through seem even more etheral.

And lighting the room were dozens of candles. The light flickered, casting shadows on the walls and giving a golden glow. Buffy moved into the room and placed the flowers on the table. She nodded, and said, "Yes, this looks right."

She turned, and saw that Will was still standing in the doorway, looking around in surprise and disbelief. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally said, "It's . . . you recreated the . . . ?"

Buffy nodded. "The crypt, yes."

Will stared at her, dumbstruck. "Why?"

"Lots of reasons, actually," she said, sitting down on the loveseat. "Would you like to sit down?"

He didn't move for a moment, and then he shook himself, as if he couldn't believe the turn of events. But he moved, and sat down on the chair. He rested his hands on his knees, still looking around the room.

"Will?" she said, feeling scared that she had lost him. That he wasn't going to understand what she wanted to say, prefering to see the surroundings and decide that she wanted Spike. But that couldn't be further from the truth. Because she just wanted him. Will, and Spike, and even the very small bits that she guessed were William. They were all there, but you couldn't separate some things and call them Spike, or say that some quirk was the William coming out in him. If you did that, you'd just have less of a person, and that was the last thing she wanted.

"Will?" she said again, finally getting his attention. He looked at her, confusion and a little anger in his gaze. She took a deep breath, and started talking. "You think that I want Spike, correct?"

He nodded, silently.

"Well, in some ways, I do want Spike." She held up her hand, cutting him off before he started speaking. "Let me say this, all right?" He grimaced, but sat back in the chair.

She continued. "Like I said, in some ways, I do want Spike. You probably think that he's your courage, your sex appeal, that little tinge of danger that I want, right?" He nodded, and she smiled at him. "Well, those were things that Spike had, yes. But they're also things Will has. That you have. I saw all that in you the first time I saw you, standing on the doorstep of Rich's house. I knew that here was a man who was a little dangerous, but it was the good kind of dangerous. And I wanted that."

She gazed at the floor for a moment. "You think I want Spike. You think that Will isn't enough for me. What if I'm worrying about the same thing?" She looked up at Will, and saw the confusion on his face. "What if I'm worried that you want the other Buffy?" she explained.

Will's eyebrows shot up. "What? Oh, love, I just want you."

"Then why don't you believe me, when I say the same thing?" she asked, sadly. "Is it because of what happened to us before? You think I'm never going to love you; that you're always going to be left out in the cold, wanting me, loving me no matter what, while I keep using you because I'm 'not ready for you not to be here'," she said, repeating her words to him.

She gripped her hands, trying to keep her thoughts straight, trying not to just break down. She had to see this through. "I don't like the Buffy I was before. I don't see much that was admirable in her. But you do--you loved that Buffy. And that Buffy loved you. She may have waited till the absolutely last moment to tell you, but she did. For months before she told you."

Buffy took ahold of her courage one more time, and raised her eyes to his. His face was like an open book to her. Love was shining out of his eyes, as well as a good dose of fear and sadness. "She loved you when she came to you in your crypt, that last time before it was destroyed. But she couldn't make the choice to love you openly, and she suffered for it. And what she suffered, you suffered ten times more."

Buffy rose from her seat, and took the two steps towards his chair, and kneeled in front of him. He leaned forward, his face close to hers. She sniffed, and ran her fingers through his hair. "She loved you then. Just like I love you now. And it's not because you remind me of Spike, or that I'm trying to recreate something that didn't get a chance to exist. I made my apartment into the crypt, because we had to spend some time there. We never really got a chance to finish things before as Buffy and Spike."

She reached out, and took his hands in hers. She stood, and pulled him to his feet. She looked up at him, and she knew that her heart was in her eyes. "Tell me you love me?" she said, hoping he'd remember. Hoping he'd follow her lead.

He gazed at her, and she bit her lip, feeling each second pass as slowly as a century. Finally, he said, "I love you."

She nearly closed her eyes in relief, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on him, forced herself to follow her plan. "Tell me you want me?"

"I always want you," he breathed out.

In the memory, she had pulled him onto a sarcophogus, kissing and removing clothes. This time, she looked down at his hands, still held in hers, and said, "Now you."

She looked up, and he was ready. "Tell me you love me," he said, his voice sounding choked with emotion.

She smiled up at him. "I love you."

He smiled back, before he made his face serious. "Tell me you want me?" he said, his voice wistful.

"I always want you," she said, running her thumb over his hand. She sighed, knowing that one of the hard parts was over.

"Your book told me a lot about how you felt. And I knew there was no way I could top that. But I wanted to show you that I felt as much as you did. When I called you Spike, I know it must have seemed like a slap in the face," she said, glancing up at him. "So I get why you gave me the book to read. Whether you're Spike or Will, you love me, right?"

Will nodded, resting his forehead against hers. At the contact, she nearly started crying, but managed to hold back her tears once again. "Well," she sniffed, "I feel the same way. So I think we're done here, so we can get out of here."

He looked at her. "What do you mean?" She didn't answer, merely pulling him after her to her bedroom. She opened the door, and drew him inside.

There were candles here, too, but fewer of them. Buffy's bed was covered in soft sheets, and there was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket next to two glasses. Will took a step away from her, and dropped her hand. He looked around, and said, "It looks beautiful, love." But his voice seemed tired, and he sat down on the bed, looking dazed.

She frowned, feeling her fear rising up. He had followed her lead, yes, but she had hardly let him get a word in edgewise. Had she been so confident of his feelings, after reading the book, that she had misjudged things? She sat down next to him on the bed, not touching him.

"I've been talking so much tonight, because I thought the book was your talking. Please tell me I haven't been wrong tonight," she said, staring forward, unable to look at him.

She felt his hand settle on top of hers, where it was resting on her leg. She felt her eyes pulled towards their hands as he started speaking.

"I'm just a little overwhelmed. No one has ever done anything like this for me. You're the only person who's ever worked so hard to convince me that she loves me--all of me. The parts that I don't like, the parts that embarrass me, the parts that make me who I am." His voice choked. "It's not something I'm used to. But I think my brain's gotten the message."

His hand reached around, and tilted her chin up, making her look at him. He rested his hand on her cheek, and once again, his forehead rested against hers. "Oh, Buffy, I love you so damn much, because I know that you love me just as much. You're so amazing, and I want to spend the rest of my life proving that I love you. Spike might have loved the old Buffy, and the old Buffy might have loved Spike, but it's a drop in the bucket to how it's gonna be when you and I love each other."

Buffy sighed, slumping towards him with relief at his words, feeling like her happiness was so great, she couldn't possibly contain it within her body. So she kissed him, because together, the two of them could hold their joy and love as it filled up their bodies and their souls. Their kisses were deep, their hands touching each other with reverance, and she giddily thought that she could taste his soul in his kiss.

They paused for breath, and she said, "Love you so much," as she wiped at the tears that had started falling from her eyes. He grinned at her, and leaned forward to start kissing each tear off her cheeks. Each time his lips pulled away from her face, he said, "Love you." He moved around her face, kissing her, and Buffy could only wrap her arms around him.

As they laid back on the bed, kissing and touching, she couldn't help saying, "Well, this is some answer you're giving me, Will," feeling giddy with joy.

Will smirked at her. "Just wait till I ask you the question I've been wanting to ask you for forever. But that'll have to wait . . ." he said, his voice trailing off as he kissed her neck. He groaned, and said, "Oh, God, how could I think that I could live without you?"

She ran her hands over his back, and wiggled down until she could face him. "I can't believe we made it here. Who would have expected it?" she asked rhetorically, wrapping her leg around his waist.

He pulled her against him, and said, between kisses, "No one, love. Guess we chose to make our own fate."

End, Chapter Ten

What is Choice?
Epilogue One: Sit Outside Heaven's Door

"You know, that's not really fair," commented Lachesis. "I mean, that was a hard problem you gave us, and then, you completely undermine the decision we made."

The woman to whom Lachesis was speaking turned away from the events unfolding on Earth, a mischievious expression on her face. "Oh, come on, don't tell me that wasn't much better than what might have happened," she said, her brown eyes twinkling.

This woman was known by many names. Some were common, some were known only to a few people, or even just one. Usually, though, she answered to God. Pompous, she would say, but true. She usually didn't like being called that, thanks to all the baggage the word came with, so she was content to be called the Woman, or the Great One, or just Boss.

"That's not the point! Why do you even bother having us if you're going to stick your oar into any problem that draws your interest?" Atropos said angrily.

Woman drew herself up to her full height and towered above the three Fates. "What are you going to do, go on strike?" she asked, her voice thunderous.

"Now, now," the Powers interjected. Once agin in the form of the Irishman, the Powers moved forward to placate the two parties.

He turned towards the woman who was in charge of everything. "No need for this. The Fates knew of your interest in this case so it's understandable why you wanted to watch the situation closely. But you have to conceed that the Fates have performed their duties admirably, especially in this situation. Sending him back with no memories? Brilliant!"

The injured parties looked at each other, and then, their feathers smoothed, went back to normal.

Clotho, who had been gazing dreamily off into space, said, "It was so romantic. And you did such a good job of talking to Will!" she said, turning towards the Great One.

The woman plopped down on the grass next to Clotho. "Quite happy with that, I am. Always tough, putting things in terms that mortals will understand."

The Powers nodded in understanding, taking a seat across from Clotho. "Aye, boss. Good work, that."

"Well, it was worth it," the woman said, her eyes soft. "I don't think there's many people on the planet that were so deserving of happiness with so little chance of achieving it."

Clotho sighed in agreement, and a silence fell over the group.

Lachesis joined them, sitting next to Clotho and saying, "There was one thing I didn't understand. How did Will's first book come about?"

They looked around the circle, and suddenly, Atropos came over and stared at each member of the group. "Oh, that's just too much!" she said, pointing her finger at the brown-eyed woman. "I can't believe that you meddled with that! You completely forced the issue!"

Everyone looked at the woman in fear, wondering what action she would take with the angry Fate. But she merely looked at Atropos, and said, "I did what was necessary. You can't tell me that the situation was going well. They were happy, but it was an ignorant happiness, a false happiness. They deserved to know that they were happy because they had suffered. Otherwise, it's just an illusion in a magic show."

Atropos flopped down grumpily next to the Powers. "I thought the point of giving them happiness was as a reward for their past actions. But what do I know?"

"Not much, obviously, with the way you're baiting the boss," the Powers grumbled to her.

"Oh, shove it, you wimp. You've never said one word against anything she's done. You just go along, toddling off to the mortal world and being all cryptic," Atropos snorted.

The Powers rolled his eyes and groaned. "You're going to be the death of us."

Clotho leaned over towards the woman. "They're like this all the time. Couldn't you make them corporeal for a week, so they could have sex and get it out of their systems?"

The woman grinned at her, and said, "I'll keep my eye on it."

Lachesis whispered to Clotho, "Bad idea. They'd be corporeal long enough to strangle each other."

"That's what you think, sister dear," Clotho muttered back.

They watched their sister argue with the representative from the Powers for a few moments, before Lachesis leaned over towards their boss. "Why did you take such an interest in this pair? It's so unusual for you to be this involved."

The woman sighed gently. "I just had a feeling about those two. So many were hoping for their happiness, and it seemed so unlikely they would get it. It was almost like the more hope there was, the less chance for success there was. So, I exercised the privilege of divine intervention."

"Plus, have you looked at the man? Hot," Clotho commented as she giggled.

"Officially, that played no part in my decision," the woman said, but she winked at Clotho and resumed her position watching the activities on Earth.

Lachesis stood and moved away from the group, gazing out over their grove. Clotho noticed her sister's pensive expression, and joined her.

"Are you troubled by the outcome of these events, Lachesis?"

Lachesis nodded. "I feel like this situation unfolded badly. The two souls went through pain, and despite the Great One's insistence, I can't help but believe it was unnecessary suffering." She glanced around, and whispered to Clotho, "Soap opera fan, you know--all about the pain," nodding towards Woman.

Clotho shrugged her shoulders. "Ah, sister. It's worked out well, and they have a long, happy life together now. You so rarely have to make such decisions. It's logical that you won't always get them completely right. You'll be ready, then, for the next knot in the thread."

Lachesis sighed. "I hope you're right, Clotho."

Suddenly, the Great One snapped her fingers. "Wow, Neruda and sex! He is good!" she said, her attention riveted on the events occurring in one small bedroom in one small apartment in one big city.

The two sisters looked at each other. They glanced over at Atropos, who was still locked in a battle of dueling wits with the Powers' messenger. Lachesis raised her eyebrow at Clotho, and Clotho grinned back. Then, with movements in near-unison, they joined the brown-eyed woman and gazed at the Earth.

Lachesis watched the two happy mortals, and thought to herself, "Now, this is the perfect solution."

End, Epilogue One
 

What is Choice?
Epilogue Two: Give You My Heart, Give You My Shoulder

Buffy awoke to hear Will whispering as he kissed his way around her face. She laid still for a moment, enjoying the feel of his lips on her skin, the sound of his voice in her ears. Then, she sighed and said, "I'm sure I've told you how unbelievably sexy your voice is?"

She opened her eyes to see him smirking at her. "Accent gets all the birds," he said with a wink.

She shook her head. "It's not just the accent, although that's not bad," she said with a grin. "No, it's your voice, itself. You could be talking about the most boring thing on earth, like the census, and it'd still make me want to swoon and melt at your feet."

"I'm tempted to see if that's true," he said with a soft smile, his happiness at her compliment shining in his eyes. He moved up, and kissed her slowly and thoroughly.

When he pulled away, she sighed in displeasure. She watched as he laid his head on her chest and breathed deeply. She ran her hand over his hair, playing with his curls. They stayed silent, their breathing patterns matching as they simply enjoyed the feel of the other's body pressed against each other's.

Buffy hummed a bit as she ran her hands through his hair, letting her soft touch remind him once again of her love. She broke the silence by saying, "Do you wonder why we're the only two who know about the past? About what really happened?"

Will left his head on her chest, but turned to look at her face. "Dunno, love. I mean, perhaps it's because those memories only matter to us, really." A curious look passed over his face. "Does it really matter?"

Buffy shook her head. "No. I'm just wondering. Having those non-thoughts you have when you're really, really happy."

Will smiled at her, and turned his head into her neck. He murmured against her skin, and she said softly, "What did you say?"

He looked up at her, and blushed a bit. "You make me feel like poetry. Full of grace and passion and magic."

Buffy felt her breath catch at his words. How could he claim not to have the words for poetry when he could say things like that, and make her feel like no other woman could ever be so loved as she was? She tugged on his shoulder, and he came up and laid on top of her, using his forearms to prop himself up. She leaned up, and kissed him, her hands running over his biceps and trying to communicate through her touch her feelings.

"I love you," she said as she dropped back down to the bed, gasping.

Will dropped a kiss on her lips, and then began a train of kisses down her neck. He paused, and began speaking.

"I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz," he said, before licking her nipple. Buffy arched her back, his words and his actions working together to make her hot, to make her wet.

"Or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off," he said as he licked and kissed and lapped the skin around her breasts. "I love you as certain dark things are to be loved," he continued, running his hands up her torso and cradling her breasts, "in secret, between the shadow and the soul." He wrapped his lips around one nipple, and Buffy wiggled underneath him, her fingers tracing the muscles in his back.

"Oh, God, Will," she said as he switched back and forth between her swollen nipples. "So good . . ." she trailed off, waiting to see how he would continue.

He smiled up at her and said, "Gonna be even better, love," before dropping his head and moving down, down, down, kissing as he went and leaving a fire spreading across her skin. She wrapped her legs around his body loosely, letting her feet rub up and down his thighs.

When he paused at the junction of her thighs, she felt a knot start to tighten in her belly. He leaned in, letting his breath stir the hairs between her legs. "I love you as the plant that never blooms," he said, before diving in to lick along her lips. She shuddered, loving the feel of his mouth on her sensitive skin. Loving the fact that he loved to do this, loved to give her pleasure any way he could.

"But carries in itself the light of hidden flowers," Will moaned, as he used his fingers to spread her outer lips and reveal her clitoris to him. He leaned in and took a deep breath, his mouth hovering just above her clit as he said, "Thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body." And then he kissed her just at the place she most needed him to touch.

Buffy's head moved restlessly on the pillow. Too far away for her to touch him, her hands clutched the sheets as he repeated the actions he had performed on her breasts, but this time on her throbbing clit. She moaned, and said, "Oh, please, please, Will, please . . ."

Infuriating bastard that he was, he lifted his head and smirked at her. "Please what? Please bury my face in your dripping, hot quim, and make you come until you see stars?"

Buffy both sighed and groaned. Only he could switch from poetry to the crude truth, and make both seem appealing. "Will . . ." she said, managing to place one hand on the back of his head and pulling him towards her. He moved up her body, kissing her deeply, letting his tongue move around in her mouth and leaving a hint of her taste behind. He reached between them, and she let loose a surprised, happy gasp when his fingers slid inside her.

"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where," he said, picking up where had left off in the poem. His fingers danced over her skin, and she felt like every moment he made sent her that much closer to that little death.

"I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride," he said, pulling his fingers away and positioning himself at her entrance. She spread her legs wide, eager to feel him. He paused, looking at her. His eyes seem to glow in the darkened room, two blue sparks in the darkness. When he spoke, his voice seemed to pulse with sincerity. "So I love you because I know no other way," he said, gazing into her eyes.

Then, he slid into her, and she felt her heart flip over at the connection they shared. This was what she had wanted all her life, in all her lives: this man, staring at her, loving her, giving her all of himself because that was the only way he knew how to love. She wrapped her legs and arms around him, feeling once again that odd mixture of joy at his closeness, and sadness, because he was never close enough. Until the day they could go beyond skin and simply exist, two souls touching, he would never be close enough.

Will had halted his movements and his words when he had first entered her, his eyes clenched shut. She gazed up at his beautiful face, and when he remained still, she reached her hand up and touched his face.

His eyes opened, and she began murmuring to him. "Than this: where I does not exist, nor you," she said, moving her hips against his. He moved against her, and they began speaking together, one pausing while the other said the next few words of the poem. The words came slowly, as they concentrated on the movement of their bodies.

"so close . . . "

"that your hand on my chest . . ."

"is my hand,"

"so close . . . "

"that your eyes . . . "

"close . . . "

"As I fall asleep," they said together, the final line of the poem echoing in the room as their groans and whispers filled the room.

"Love you, love you so much," she said against his neck as she reached her climax. He followed her within seconds, her name falling from his lips. They collapsed together, their breathing heavy and their hearts light.

Buffy felt sleep coming after her, and knew by Will's relaxed breathing that he too was slipping off to sleep. She ran her hand through his hair one more time, and he said sleepily, "You're in love with my hair."

"No, not really," she said, a small yawn slipping from her mouth. "More like infatuated. I'll move on, I'm sure, to some other body part of yours that I can't get enough of, like the back of your neck or your lips or your wrists. Thank goodness I have many, many years to explore all of you, so I can find my favorite part."

"Think I already know which one's your favorite, love," he said, his voice both amused and cocky.

She giggled. "You're right, but it's not the one you're thinking of, although it is in the top five Best Will Parts. But sorry, sweetheart, it's your eyes that I love best."

He looked up at her, giving her a look at the part in question. She ran her fingers over his face, touching the scar through his eyebrow, soaking in the feel of his skin. "They make me feel like I am the luckiest woman in the world because no one else gets to see these baby blues so closely. It's a good thing, too, because if they did, the world would fall in love with you and try to take you away from me," she said, a little sadly.

Will's face was serious, and she could tell that he was touched by her words. He ran his hand down her face, cupping her cheek and kissing her firmly. "Sweetness, I love you so much," he said, hugging her close to him.

She sighed happily, and snuggled against him, yawning again. He chuckled at her. "Guess you're too tired to hear me sing your praises, love?"

She smiled up at him. "Tomorrow. We'll have time tomorrow."

"That we will, love, that we will," he said, curling around her.

As she fell asleep, she could feel his body relaxing against hers, following her into sleep. She reached out, and laid her hand on his chest over his heart. She felt the steady thump of his heart, and she drifted off to sleep with that rhythm under her fingertips.

End, Epilogue Two

End, What is Choice?