"Oh William, that was so sad. Who will look after the pigs if Miss Abigail dies?"

"The bear of course. But I fear you must brace yourself, for this is a tragedy and is unlikely to have a happy ending."

At this Alex gave a loud sniff and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his coat. William had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing. The tale he had spun had indeed been heart wrenching and Buffy and Alex were hanging on to every word, once they'd got over the initial shock of Miss Abigail living with a talking bear and three dancing pigs, and the amorous portion of the title indicating her love for her animals. He closed the book with a snap and shook his head at their disappointed looks.

"It's a very long book and would take all night if I continued to the end. I think it is your turn to tell a story, Buffy, do you have one that might amuse us?"

She thought for a moment, still obviously a little caught up in the drama of Miss Abigail dying of consumption and leaving all those dependant animals, and then she brightened.

"I have the very book." Diving back into the wardrobe, she reappeared with the book of ladies’ fashions. "I will read from this, then perhaps I might model some of the clothes. There are bound to be some similar in the house."

At that, Alex gave a chortle and sat up, while William’s heart suddenly started to beat at twice it’s normal rate. And this reaction was not just because she was about to find out exactly what kind of ladies’ fashions he was interested in. A picture of her striking one of the poses in the book popped into his mind and from the look on Alex’s face, he was having the very same thought.

William lunged for the book but she held it aloft, nearly falling over backward at the suddenness of his move.

"Ah ah," she waggled her finger at him reprovingly. "Naughty boy, you’ve had your turn."

He tried again, catching hold of her wrist and pulling the book down towards him. The momentum pulled her forward and she tipped into his lap, still refusing to let go of her prize.

"It’s my turn William, what’s got into you?" She lay in his lap, looking up at him, a slightly puzzled look on her face. Then she giggled and curved her mouth into a very wicked smile.

"Is there something in here that you don’t want me to see, by any chance?" Her fingers strayed to the cover and she made as if to open it, all the while watching his face.

He made another grab for it and this time caught hold, his fingers covering hers. "We don’t want to look at fashion, do we Alex?" He was on the verge of giving up all subtlety in the matter as he prised her fingers from it one by one. Hopefully, she wouldn’t remember this tussle in the morning.

"Yes we do."

"No we don’t." Goodness she was strong for such a small thing, and her head wriggling in his lap wasn’t helping matters one bit.

She seemed to give up and he felt her relax against him as he swung the book high in the air, deliberately clipping Alex on the side of the head with it as he did so. The idiot must have seen it before and was obviously settling in for what he thought was going to be quite a show.

"Let’s put this here shall we?" He placed it carefully out of reach, with Miss Abigail, and breathed a sigh of relief. Buffy wriggled further into his lap, making herself comfortable.

"You are a very naughty boy." She gave him a very saucy wink and waved her arm at her cup. "My cup is empty, can I have another drink, William? Please?"

She said it in a little-girl voice, and he was at that moment having quite a hard time keeping up with her and all her guises. One moment she was cross with him, the next a wanton temptress lying sprawled across him and now she was wheedling her way around him like a little child.

Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? Now that he had the books in his possession once more, he could stop worrying about them and start concentrating on this. Buffy, all soft and relaxed, pressed against him, waving her arm at the cup. Demanding that another bottle be fetched.

He should sit her up again. Stop enjoying the weight of her as she moved against his most sensitive parts. But all he wanted was for Alex to disappear so he could dip his head down and cover her lips with his own. And he desperately wanted her not to be so drunk. He couldn’t kiss her now, even if Alex wasn’t here. She was only lying where she was because of the alcohol, and he was still sober enough to know that their first kiss should be when they were both in full possession of all their faculties. He was almost as sure as he ever would be that she wouldn’t mind, but a tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered what if you’re wrong?

He didn’t want to risk spoiling any future happiness by making a wrong move now. He could wait because this was just too important not to do it right. But it seemed as if Buffy had other ideas on the matter. She was walking her fingers up and down his arm as it rested across her, humming a little tune to herself and flicking small glances at him as she did so, almost as if she was daring him to make a move. And his willpower was slipping rapidly. All his noble thoughts of waiting until she was sober were fast flying out of the window. If he’d ever seen an invitation issued, it was now. If he’d ever been more sure of anything it was now. And if he waited until he was sober, then he’s never do this.

"Alex. Go get the brandy."

Alex stared at him, looking suddenly wide awake, even though he was more drunk than any of them.

"Now, Alex. It’s in my bedroom."

For a moment he thought Alex wasn’t going to go. He just kept staring from him to Buffy as if he’d only just realised that she was lying in such an intimate position, and was trying to work out just what was going on. Then he got up and staggered out of the room.

William knew he should have sent him down to the cellar for a new bottle. It would have given him more time alone with Buffy but he couldn’t risk Alex falling down the steep, stone steps in his drunken state and breaking his neck in the process.

But this need, this wanting was becoming an all-consuming thing. It seemed to occupy every moment of his waking hours, and most of his dreams. He’d never been on a long journey before, but this is how he imagined it would feel to be nearing the end. A feeling of anticipation, building and building and then, as the destination comes into sight, you start to relax and feel safe again because home is near. And this moment had been such a long time in coming.

He let out a deep breath as Alex’s footsteps receded, and reached with a trembling hand to push back the scattered strands of hair from Buffy’s face, his fingers trailing across her cheek, and she stopped humming and locked her gaze with his, drawing him down by the sheer force of their mutual desire. He felt her hand sliding upward, her fingers grasping at the collar of his coat and pulling him down to her and he went, understanding for the first time what it was to be completely powerless.

And he needed to say something. It still didn’t feel quite right that he was going to kiss her and he hadn’t even told her how he felt. His throat was too dry, his voice raspy and all that came out was a silly comment about how silky her hair was. And she shook her head at that.

"No, William, tell me. Really tell me," she whispered, pulling him even closer. So close that he could feel her breath on his face. So he told her that her hair was like a silken thread and that he was going to use it to bind her to him forever and that seemed to please her because she pulled him even nearer and whispered that she’d like that, and he was never to let her go.

His fingers cupped the back of her head as he raised her face to his and tried to get his breathing under control, tried to slow the erratic beating of his heart. And her lips were so close that he could smell the wine that she’d drunk, reminding him that he was doing that thing he said he’d never do, and taking advantage of her. But he didn’t care. Didn’t know whether he was master here or willing slave. Didn’t even know which way to tilt his head so they wouldn’t bump noses. He was learning it all as he went along, the age-old dance that they both seemed to know the steps to. And if he stumbled, she’d catch him, and he’d catch her, so they were perfectly safe.

"You’ve touched me Buffy." He caught her hand, that had been lightly resting on his arm and pressed it to his heart. "In ways I couldn’t have begun to imagine. You’ll always be in here, a part of me. May I kiss you now?"

He’d said it. Made his declaration.

By way of an answer she lifted her head just the fraction that was needed for their lips to touch and after all the build up and anticipation, he found himself pulling back momentarily, the shock of what he was doing suddenly hitting him, and he had to look at her one more time just to make sure that what was happening was real. That she was lying in his arms, her lips slightly parted, her eyes half closed and she did want to do this with him.

And Alex would be back with the brandy any moment now, so why was he waiting? He dropped his lips to hers once more and they did bump noses, but neither of them seemed to notice. All it needed was a slight twist of the head and they fit perfectly. This thing that he’d been worrying about so much came naturally after all, but one kiss wasn’t going to be enough. He knew they’d have to stop before Alex caught them. It just wouldn’t be fair to him to find them like this, but instead of pulling away, he was pulling her closer, and she was shifting to accommodate him better, her arms creeping around his neck.

He didn’t want to stop. His control was slipping away fast as the need and wanting threatened to overwhelm him, and he was aching so badly for her that all he wanted to do was carry her over to the bed and ravish her. And he knew she wouldn’t stop him.

He broke the kiss because he needed to breathe and to slow down and to get a grip on himself. It was too much at once, he could feel himself shaking from the intensity of it all and he knew he wasn’t sober enough to be able to keep control if they continued.

But her fingers tightened as they held him and she told him that she'd cast a spell on him and he'd always be in her power. So he just abandoned himself once more to the slow slide of her lips against his, the sweet taste of her, and he wished that he could spend eternity here, doing this with her. Because even if this was all there was, it was enough.

He was good at this.

She’d imagined it would be awkward and tentative and that there would be embarrassment because of their inexperience. And when she’d thought about the inevitability of this moment during the past week there was, always in the back of her mind, the memory of those previous two kisses which she hadn’t enjoyed at all. The first had been the result of incompetent fumbling and the second had been a direct assault on her as a woman. Both had left her thoroughly confused and revolted.

William had no idea how much trust she was placing in him to get this right, to erase those kisses from her mind. She wanted him to be the one who would make her feel how she should feel when she was being kissed, and she had had no doubt that they would get it right, eventually. But he didn’t seem to need the practise at all.

As she pulled him down towards her, she knew that she was the one giving permission, making a decision for them both, but as he hesitated she wondered if she was pressuring him into this, demanding that he move too fast.

The wine, however, made her bolder than she’d ever felt in her life. Caleb had accused her of being a temptress and for once in her life she wanted to be. She’d told William earlier that he was going to have to do everything she said, and the look on his face said that he’d go to the very gates of hell and back for her if she asked it. But why go to hell when heaven was right here for the taking?

As his mouth covered hers, she was perfectly aware that they were doing this now because they were both a little drunk, but she also knew that the wine was only giving them the courage to do something that would have happened anyway. And she was glad of that, for who knew how much time she really had here, in this sanctuary that she was already starting to think of as home? The outside world was still there and could come rushing in on them at any time, and she wanted as much of William as she could have before that happened.

His lips were soft and warm and surprisingly persuasive for one so inexperienced. He didn’t try to force his tongue into her mouth as Caleb had done, but was rather teasing her very lightly with it, making only occasional contact with hers, and he seemed to know exactly how much pressure to apply to leave her wanting more. She suspected that he wasn’t even aware that he was doing it, that every time he eased ever so slightly out of the kiss she would crane her neck up and draw him back down, increasing the intensity bit by bit until they were both breathless and had to stop because they needed air.

But she didn’t want to waste time breathing. He was in her power and she told him so, pulling him greedily back to her, demanding that he surrender himself and continue making her mouth burn and her skin tingle. And she loved the way she was driving him to the edge of control, loved the abandonment and honesty of his touch. Loved him.

Loved him more than she’d ever loved anything, or anyone.

She was dimly aware that Alex was back in the room, leaning against the wardrobe where he’d been sitting before, lazily watching them, and she knew that they shouldn’t be doing this in front of him, but she was having a hard time breaking out of the sensual haze which surrounded them. As she pulled back a little to try and warn William that Alex was there, he only muttered something and followed her, taking her head in his hands to keep her still and deepening the kiss. It took a few moments before she was able to make him realise that she wanted him to stop.

At first he looked a little confused, then a look of panic descended, as if perhaps he thought he’d overstepped the mark or hurt her. She had to physically turn his face towards Alex before he realised what she was trying to tell him. He sat up slowly, pulling her with him, running his hand through his hair and looking like someone who had just woken up from a deep sleep.

Alex didn’t look the slightest bit offended by their behaviour. He picked up the brandy bottle and poured himself a drink, then he handed it to William, who seemed to take a moment to resister just what it was before picking up his cup and pouring himself one. She took the bottle from him and poured one out for herself, a feeling of self-consciousness suddenly overtaking her. Not only because Alex had witnessed the kiss, but because she had been enjoying it far more than was proper for a woman of her station.

She laughed aloud as this thought crossed her mind, causing the two men to look at her with puzzled expressions. Her mother had always taught her that genteel young ladies did not enjoy the physical attentions of a man, rather they put up with them and did quite literally close their eyes and think of the glory of England instead. But she wasn’t just laughing at that. She was laughing at the notion that the term, ‘genteel young woman’ could ever apply to her again. Genteel young women didn’t murder people, then run away with the first man who crossed their paths. They didn’t enjoy breathtaking kisses on their bedroom floors, that left them quite literally panting for more. And they didn’t seduce innocent young men.

She took a large gulp of her brandy, coughing as it burned her throat, and wondered, where it might have led had Alex not come back, and how they were all going to feel about this in the morning.

William pulled at his coat buttons, feeling suddenly too hot in the heavy brocade. Alex had a slightly amused look on his face, as if it had taken him this long to work out just what he’d been watching, but he didn’t look too upset by it. As he unbuttoned the coat and took it off, he realised that he didn’t really care if Alex was watching them or not. He was used to the lack of privacy that came with his position in life. There wasn’t much that was kept secret in this house, but Buffy? How would she feel about it? He was a man and he knew by the look Alex was giving him that being caught like this would only earn him prestige. And what man wouldn’t want to show off the fact that he had a beautiful woman swooning over his kisses? He couldn’t help it. He’d have been impressed and probably wildly jealous if Alex had turned up with a woman as beautiful as her.

But it had to be different for women. As he watched Buffy adjusting her skirts and avoiding eye contact with him, he couldn’t help wondering how she felt about having taken this step. It was another ‘most wonderful experience of his life,’ but she was almost looking as if she was regretting it. He fervently hoped that she was only regretting the ‘being caught’ part, but he couldn’t ask her. Not with Alex there, as that would probably embarrass her even further. And by the way she was knocking back the brandy, he could tell that she felt she was sobering up, and he knew how that felt. Knew that feeling of panic that descends when reason intrudes on your previously carefree state and you need to get back to it fast.

He undid his cuffs and rolled up his shirt sleeves, partly because he was still hot and partly because it gave him thinking time. What did he do now? He’d declared his intentions in a way, although he realised that he hadn’t actually told her he loved her, nor had she said it to him. And he’d kissed her most passionately, but it had ended much too abruptly and all he was now left with was a feeling of extreme frustration.

She too looked most agitated, and he knew that this had been the wrong time to do this. The kiss wasn’t over by any means, and even if it had been, he’d have liked to have held her and talked with her about how she felt, and then kissed her some more. Alex would fall asleep soon, he always did, but the moment felt as if it had passed for now. There would, no doubt, be others, but they would require a new start, and wouldn’t be a natural progression from this one. This, he guessed, was going to be the cause of awkward moments which they would have to resolve before they could progress. He wanted to take her hand to show her that he’d meant everything he’d poured into that kiss but he didn’t even dare do that. If he pressed himself on her now it might look as if he was only after her body, and although he did want that, he wanted so much more.

They all sat in silence drinking their brandy, Buffy giving a little cough every time she swallowed, and then Alex reminded them that they had been telling stories, and which one of them was going to go next? William couldn’t imagine Alex having any story worth telling. Not one that could be repeated in front of a young lady, anyway, so he looked at Buffy, who seemed lost in thought, staring into her cup morosely. He placed a tentative hand on her shoulder and asked if she had one she’d like to share.

To his relief she leaned her cheek momentarily into his hand before carefully placing her cup on the carpet in front of her. The contact was reassuring, but she looked so sad. Had his kiss made her feel like that? She shook her head slightly as if she’d caught the meaning of his look and was telling it wasn’t him that had made her feel sad.

"I do have a story, and it is one that will put Miss Abigail in the shade. I hope that you will not be too shocked by it, for it is a tale of one so wicked that you cannot help but be."

Alex sat up at this, but William looked puzzled. She was starting to look very drunk again, but had passed the happy drunk stage and was rapidly descending into the ‘pit of despair’ stage, and he felt a twinge of guilt for letting her get this way. She seemed to have arrived there very rapidly, she obviously wasn’t used to the effects of alcohol, but this was the stage at which you might say things that you would dearly regret later. It was when the deepest and most profound things were most likely to emerge, and he suddenly realised what she was about to tell them.

She picked her cup up again and made to drink from it, but he reached over and took it out of her hand, ignoring her weak protest as she tried to retrieve it, then he slipped his arm around her back. She leaned against him and he gave her a squeeze to show her that she had his support and that whatever she said would make no difference to how he felt about her. He was at that stage now, and could listen safely without judging her. Then he remembered that she’d arrived covered in blood that wasn’t her own and despite telling himself that it made no difference, he couldn’t stop the heavy thudding of his heart as he waited for her to start. Just what was she going to tell them?

"Once upon a time there was a little girl, who lived in a land inhabited by demons and monsters, but she was never afraid because her heart was brave and true."

Elizabeth looked up to see the effect her words were having on the two men whose wholehearted attention she had. Then she leaned back onto William’s shoulder, grateful that he’d made the gesture. She’d thought for a moment, after she’d stopped the kiss, that perhaps she’d offended him and made him think that she wasn’t enjoying it any more, but the way he was holding her now reassured that that wasn’t the case. She realised too that he somehow knew what she was going to say, and that he was now ready to hear it.

"Carry on Buffy, what happened to her?"

"She grew up and all the hopes and dreams faded away. And for a while she was very sad, but then she started looking for them again. But no matter how hard she searched, she could never find then." To her shame she found her voice breaking as she tried to continue, so she looked around for her drink. William handed it to her silently and watched her as she finished it, then she felt his hand rubbing her back as she coughed again.

She was glad to be leaning against him, for she knew that if she was to stand up now she would probably fall down. Alex kept splitting into two of him, then merging back into one person, and it was most disconcerting. when before she’d been helpless with laughter, she was now being overcome by a tremendous urge to cry long and hard, and pour out all her troubles to anyone who would listen.

"Go on." William was gently urging her and now that she’d started, she knew she needed to finish, so he could truly understand who it was he was harbouring here. So he knew there was a murderer under his roof. The thought briefly crossed her mind that she shouldn’t be saying this in front of Alex, but in a strange way she knew she could trust him with it too. He might not realise straight away what she was saying, but it would dawn on him eventually, he wasn’t half as stupid as everyone thought him to be.

"She could never find them because she was always looking in the wrong place. And it took her a long time to realise this."

There was another long silence as she thought about what to say next. She couldn’t just say the girl had killed someone. It sounded even too fantastic for a story, let alone a confession. This time it was Alex who urged her on.

"Do finish, Buffy. Was there blood?"

William glared at him for that and he shrugged his shoulders. "More fun if there's blood."

Elizabeth gave a humourless laugh. "There is no blood in this story I’m afraid."

"But you said we’d be shocked." Alex sounded disappointed. "You sure there’s no blood?"

"Well, alright, just a little."

She couldn’t say it. William had said that he wasn’t ready to hear it, and she hadn’t realised that she wasn’t ready to say the words yet.

But Alex wanted his blood, so she’d give him some. And then she was going to be tremendously sick. The nausea was coming over her in waves now and just the memory of the smell of the brandy was making her want to heave. She racked her brains for a suitably gory and swift ending to the story, then she thought she might just about make it to the chamber pot behind the screen.

"The girl grew up to be a beautiful princess and one day a wicked witch locked her in a tower and told her she was going to make her evil like herself. But the princess found the strength to say no and pushed the witch out of the window. She fell a long way, and there was a lot of blood. The end."

Alex burst into a round of noisy clapping, and exclaimed his approval at her tale. He started to demand another one, but then he realised that it was his turn, so he staggered to his feet and struck a pose. Elizabeth felt the colour draining out of her face as she fought the waves of nausea that were fast overtaking her, and then Alex launched into his tale.

"This room’s ‘aunted by an ‘eadless ghost. Sleeps in that bed over there. Seen ‘im mesself. All covered in blood."

"Blood?" Elizabeth looked at the bed, her eyes wide, then at William, who jumped up, pulling her with him when he realised the state she was in.

Haunted, by a ghost?" She looked from Alex to William, her eyes wide, and then she clamped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, William, I think I’m going to be..."

She didn’t have time to finish because he had her behind the screen and she was throwing up the contents of her stomach into the pot. She was aware of him kneeling beside her, one hand on her forehead, the other holding her hair out of the way as she heaved, and she kept trying to apologise because he had to see her like this, because she was nothing but a weak woman who couldn’t hold her drink. But she was also apologising for the other thing. For not being able to tell him. Even as she was being sick she was trying to have the conversation with him, but he kept repeating over and over that she wasn’t to worry, and that he had her safe and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

She heard him telling Alex to go to bed, and Alex sounding rather peeved because he hadn’t finished his story and he was just getting to the good bit. Then there was nothing left in her stomach so she sat back on her heels, grateful that the vomiting was done with, but dreading the hangover that would inevitably come, as she felt William’s arms circling her, and holding her tight.

Why couldn’t she have met him before? Before Caleb. They were perfect together and she could have been so happy with him. Shy, gentle William whose beautiful blue eyes held nothing but love for her, and whose mouth could smile like a little boy, then kiss her senseless, all in a heartbeat. And who was kissing her now, small feather-light touches on the top of her head, smoothing back her hair, telling her everything was going to be alright, and they had all the time in the world.

But it wasn’t. And they didn’t have. Time was running out fast. She could feel it, if only because she’d been extraordinarily happy these last few days. So happy that she knew it couldn’t last, because she didn’t deserve it to. William loved her, and she knew now that she loved him back. Perhaps it was the alcohol that had induced this melancholy and tomorrow in the light of day everything would seem better, but she just had such a horrible feeling. It was black and heavy and it weighed her down so that she felt she would be unable to stand.

And all she could do was turn and bury her face into William’s chest and hold on to him for dear life. He’d promised to keep her safe, but at what cost? They were coming for her, as surely as she’d thought Lord Angelus had come to take her to hell that night on the cliff road. And they’d have her. Caleb’s family was rich and influential. They wouldn’t rest until they’d found her and brought her to justice. And everyone here would go down with her. This little family who had taken her in, and asked no questions. These people who thought she had come to make their lives better and who didn’t know what they really had in their midst. Could she do this to them? Put them in such danger?

She lifted her head and brought both hands up to frame William’s face. He really did have the most extraordinary eyes, so much emotion in them. He needed to know so he could make his own decision. She needed his help and she wanted it, but he had to know what she’d done, who she was. Otherwise everything was based on lies and deceit and she was no better than Caleb had been.

William tilted his head slightly, in that way he had of asking questions without words, and then realisation seemed to dawn on him. He tried to shake his head to stop her but she held it still.

"Listen to me William. My name is Elizabeth Summers and I am a murderer. And now that you know who I am - do you still want to help me?"

She could see that she’d shocked him. And that he was struggling to hide it. As she let go of his face and slid her hands down to press against his chest, he was shaking his head and murmuring the word no repeatedly under his breath, trying to pull her to him. But she wouldn’t let him. He had to know, had to understand just what it was that she wanted to tell him.

"Listen to me William." She caught hold of his arms and looked up at him, insisting that he make eye contact. "Yes, I did kill someone, do you understand what I’m trying to say? Do you realise what I am?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and when he reopened them, to her relief he looked a little calmer.

"It can’t be denied. You have to know."

And once he knew, once he understood the implications of what she’d said, he had to decide what he was going to do. Would he think she’d kissed him just because she needed his help?

She hardly dared breathe as she waited for his answer.

"I’m not denying it."

Did she think that? He’d known she was going to say something terrible, but that hadn’t alleviated the shock of actually hearing the words spoken. But shocked as he was, she had to know that it made no difference.

"I hear you Buffy, and I believe you." He closed his eyes again, very briefly. "I’m...I'm, just making a very bad job of telling you that it doesn’t matter." She did let him lay her head on his chest then, and he stroked her hair as he contemplated what would happen now that he knew.

"Nothing’s changed, Buffy, Elizabeth - except that now I don’t know what to call you." He gave a little laugh at that. "Elizabeth, I like it. Look at me my love, and you are my love, you know that don’t you?"

He searched her face to see if his words had registered, but all he saw as she lifted her head was a tremendous weariness. As if the admission had taken all of her strength, and for now there was nothing left. Talk of love could come later. Right now she needed to know she had his understanding and support. And she needed to get to bed because she was going to feel terrible in the morning.

"Come on, you should get some sleep." He pulled her to her feet, a little worried by how dazed she was looking. "Are you going to be sick again?"

"No, no," she lifted her arm. Then let it drop. "I thought you’d be more shocked, how can you be so calm?"

"Because I’ve already considered the possibility that it was going to be something like this. And I can't but think you must have had a good reason for what you did. I've thought about nothing else all week, gone over and over it in my head." He walked her over to the bed, put his hands onto her waist and lifted her onto the edge of the mattress. "I'm shocked because you don't look capable of killing anyone." His hand strayed to her hair and he fingered a lock of it as he spoke. "You're just, I don't know, too small, too ladylike, does that sound stupid?"

"Oh William." She managed a ghost of a smile which pleased him.

He didn't want her to know just how shocked he actually was by her words. Hoped he'd done a good job of masking it. And he was telling the truth when he'd told her it wasn't her action that had shocked him. Neither was it the impact that it would have on him, for it truly made no difference. He had contemplated the matter long and hard, and knew that she hadn't come with him that night on the cliff road because of any trivial reason. Looking as he had, and knowing the Angelus legend, she would have had to have been as desperate as anyone could be to have chosen his home as a place of sanctuary.

His reaction had sprung more from the image that had formed in his mind as she spoke the words. If she was caught she would hang.

He'd never had to worry about any one else before, his life had always been focused on himself, his needs and desires. But now he had to worry about her, worry about them catching her and what would happen to her if they did. Worry about whether he could adequately protect her if they did find her. And that's what was so unbearable about this. He knew he would die trying, but that wouldn't help her. What if he wasn't up to the task?

"William?" Her hand was stroking his face, bringing him back from the jumble of thoughts going round and round in his head, and he knew that if they caught her he wouldn't want to go on living anyway. "William, William." She kept saying his name, as if he was a lifeline and she was clinging to it, but it meant more than that. When she spoke his name, it gave his life meaning in a way it had never had before. Tara loved him, but she didn't need him. Buffy needed him, she couldn't do this without him and this was his purpose. It was why she'd called him back from the grave. Why their lives had collided that night on the cliff road.

Whether they grew old together or died tomorrow was totally irrelevant. All that mattered was this moment in time, and as he looked at her, he knew he didn't have to say anything more. In the short time she'd known him, she understood him better than anyone, and he wondered why she'd even felt the need to ask whether he still wanted to help her. The future had always been a scary place, and it still was, only now he wasn't walking in the dark any more. She was his light. For how long, he had no idea, and it didn't matter. Shaking fists at unkind fate was only a waste of precious time. Time he'd rather spend with her.

"William?" She was still stroking his face, and he lifted his hand and did the same to her, knowing that he'd never get over the wonder of her actually being there, but also knowing that she was counting on him to find a solution to all this.

"How are you feeling? Is it better now that you've told me?"

"A little. I have such a headache."

Her sad smile tugged at his heart like nothing ever had, and he wondered how an evening that had started with such frivolity and laughter had come to this. The highs and lows of life. They didn't go away just because you found someone to love.

"Then lie down, and I'll clean up here. Can I fetch you anything?"

"I need a drink of water, but let me come with you." She wriggled to her feet, sliding against him as she did so, standing still for a moment and just holding him. "And something to sweeten my mouth, some mint or parsley from the herb garden."

"Alright, then perhaps you can tell me what happened?" He said it lightly, as he imagined one would say it if they were making small talk at a tea party, because he knew he had to make it as easy as he could for her to tell him.

He walked over to the pot and picked it up, pulling a face as he did so. "I fear I'm leading you astray. Should I have stopped you drinking so much?"

"Do you feel it is your place to stop me?"

"I've never thought about it. Doesn't a woman usually let herself be led by a man's wise counsel?"

He ducked as a pillow from the bed sailed past his head. Then he chuckled to himself, wondering at the fact that he could still laugh in the midst of all this tragedy.

"That's what I thought you'd say."

Elizabeth rinsed her mouth out with water and spat into the sink, feeling only a little self conscious that William was watching her. It struck her that this was what being close was all about. It wasn’t just the nice things like hugging and kissing and paying pretty compliments. It was tears and vulnerability. Laying yourself bare and trusting that the other person was going to accept you with all your faults and messy insecurities. And these times of quiet acceptance spoke more eloquently of love than noisy declarations. She had heard him when he’d said she was his love, and nice though it was, his actions spoke a lot more than words ever could.

He’d seen her at her worse and he was still here, catching her and setting her back on her feet. As she would do for him, without question.

"Would you like some tea?"

She turned and the room lit up momentarily as he poked at the flames in the range. They cast his face into weird shadow as they flickered, and for a split second he was the man from the grave once more, and an icy cold hand seemed to grip at her heart as she imagined him fading away with grief after she’d gone. Hadn’t he already tried to kill himself once, unable to face all those lonely years? The thought of all the pain she was surely going to cause him made her run across the kitchen and engulf him in such a hug that he was almost caught off balance by it.

"It’s only a cup of tea." His tone was light-hearted, but he seemed to know why she was clinging to him so desperately, because he put down the kettle and held her back. He murmured that she wasn’t to worry about him because he'd already got more out of life than he'd ever expected to, and when had his life ever been normal anyway?

She wasn't reassured by his words. She already knew how much he'd miss her, because it was how much she'd miss him. They'd both made the mistake of growing too attached too soon and now it was too late. Too late to stand back and say ‘I'm not going to take that risk, I'm not going to love because it might lead to heartache.’ Love was sneaky, it crept in when you weren't looking and bound you together quietly and irrevocably. And by the time you realised it, the knots were so tight that they couldn't be undone without great pain. And it was the pain that made you realise just how great a love it was.

"What's going to happen to us?" She searched his face for a solution, relieved that the ghostly spectre had been replaced by William once more.

He sighed, and leaned into her embrace, "Nothing right now, let’s not think about it tonight. Do you want me to come with you?" He indicated the back door, and she remembered that she was supposed to be going to the herb garden. He was right. Nothing was going to happen tonight, other than she was going to tell him of the circumstances that had led him to find her on the cliff road that night.

"Make some tea and bring it out. I need to talk with you William."

He nodded and let her go. While he busied himself with the tea, she picked up a shawl from the chair, unlocked the back door and walked down the stone steps that led to the kitchen garden. It was a clear night and there was enough of a moon to see by, but Alex’s story still echoed in her mind and she found herself hurrying as she located the mint and parsley, snapping off a few leaves while looking over her shoulder at imagined shadows flitting about at the edge of her sight. She made a mental note never to touch alcohol again, it played such tricks with your mind.

However, it had given William the courage to kiss her, so it couldn’t be all that bad. But did anything done under the influence of alcohol mean anything? It had felt real enough, and they hadn’t been so drunk that they didn’t realise what they were doing. She shook her head and gave up thinking about it. Alcohol or no alcohol, William just didn’t seem the type to do anything without meaning it, so she should stop analysing. Stop trying to find fault and just appreciate the good in this situation. Appreciate the fact that she had found love at last, and that was all that mattered.

When she turned around he was standing in the doorway, holding the tea and peering hesitantly into the night. She watched as he took a breath and then stepped over the threshold, standing for a moment, then carefully placing the cups down and sitting on the top step. Wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, she made her way back to him as he waited for her. It was odd to think that something as simple as going outside, a thing she did without hesitation, should be so difficult for someone. He didn’t look very relaxed as he sat there, his arms folded and leaning on his knees. He unfolded them as she approached and made to stand up but she stopped him.

"Stay there, I will sit with you, I want to tell you what happened."

He let his knees fall apart and beckoned her over. "Sit here then. Did you get what you wanted?"

Elizabeth settled herself on the step below him and leaned back against him. His arms slipped over her shoulders as she did so, not unlike Caleb had done on the night he’d shown her the painting. She forced herself to relax. but William had already caught the slight tensing of her muscles as he’d done it.

"Do you want me to move them?"

"No, leave them there, it’s just a bad memory that’s all. Replace it with a good one for me?"

His hands squeezed her shoulders lightly as she said that. "All our memories will be good ones Buffy. Tell me, I want to know. Did someone hurt you?"

"Yes and no." Where did she begin in all this? Did he need to know everything? And he was a man, maybe he would have sympathy for Caleb, maybe he would think she did lead him on? Better to tell him everything and let him make his own judgement. She wriggled back against him, thinking once again that it was the wine and brandy lending her the courage to sit so intimately with him.

Then she tipped her head back, looking up at the night sky, and at him as he stared at some object in the distance. His hair needed cutting, she would do it for him tomorrow. And his thighs felt warm and solid where her arms rested, and she could feel his chest rising and falling as he breathed. He was an anchor, holding her down when she would have floated away on a sea of her own despair. But, for tonight life was simple. Two people in love just being with each other. For a moment she imagined never moving from this spot, sitting here forever with him holding her, just as he was now. And in a hundred years time they would still be sitting here and people would talk in quiet whispers of the ghosts of the star-crossed lovers who haunted the garden. Of a love so true that it transcended time itself.

"Buffy?"

She shook herself, shaking off the spooky images that were invading her mind, and accepted the tea that he was offering her. She took a sip, wrapping her hands around the warmth of the cup. He wasn’t pushing her to begin but she knew she needed to. Knew he was waiting to find out just what he’d let himself in for, so he could help her find a way out of this nightmare. She desperately needed him to do that for her, couldn’t think for herself anymore, her head was hurting too much. Once she’d told him, he’d have a solution and they’d live happily ever after. Wouldn’t they? She tried to believe it, tried to convince herself, but the more she tried, the more she realised just how hopeless their situation really was.

"I was quite smitten with Caleb, thought him the most handsome and sophisticated man I'd ever met and it turned my head. I wanted him to notice me so much it made me blind to his true nature, until it was too late. I was flattered by his attentions and that makes me very vain and frivolous." She stopped, as if she had come to the end of her tale, but then added quietly, "I think I deserve my punishment."

"No, don't say that. I can imagine that evil can disguise itself quite well when it wants to. You were not to know what he was like." William had hardly moved as she'd spoken, not wanting to distract her now that she was, at last, telling him. And now he needed to say something, he realised, something that would give her courage. That had been, after all the purpose of this confession. She was telling him all this because she wanted him to do something about it.

"We’ll run away. Go north, I have an estate there, somewhere in Lancashire."

"And how far would we get?" Elizabeth raised her head from where it had been resting on his thigh but he urged it down again, smoothing his hand over her hair, wanting to make this right for her. It hadn’t been such a dreadful tale after all. Self defence really. The worse part had been the irrational twinge of jealousy he'd felt when she'd told him that Caleb had touched her and kissed her, but the bastard sounded as if he'd deserved everything that had happened to him

William knew that he could never be objective in this and that whatever she’d told him he’d have found an excuse for her. Would have supported her. But that was easy to say knowing what he now knew. What if it had been a child or one of her family whose death she had been responsible for? Then he would have had to pause and consider and make difficult decisions. But it was just useless Caleb, who had assaulted her and who had died quite accidentally anyway, so no real blame lay with her.

"You’ve travelled to America and back, surely it would be nothing travelling to the north of England?"

"It’s true, I have travelled with aunt Joan, but she has a lifetime of experience, and we are a couple of innocents William. We would need money and transport, and you would have to be careful about going outside. And we would probably be robbed before we’d got across Dartmoor. Alex would help us but I cannot think that Ethan will, and we would need someone like him on our side."

William’s spirits slid slowly into his boots at her words and any optimism that he may have had in this matter went with it. He’d thought the hard part would be having to listen to what she told him, but that had been easy. And it had had seemed quite logical to him that all they had to do was run away, put distance between them and Devon, and everything would be well. But she'd obviously been expecting a better plan than that, judging by the disappointment in her words, and he must have sounded to her like a naive idiot.

What she was saying was true anyway. Escaping the law would be difficult even for a man of the world, let alone for him. sheltered as he'd been. What chance would he have of getting her out of Devon, let alone crossing the hundreds of miles to Rossendale?

"Do you have any money William?" Her voice was very small, as if she already knew what his answer was going to be.

He moved his hand from her hair and picked up his tea, feeling totally inadequate as he drank it down, and the waves of self pity washed over him. She'd almost made it sound as if he would be a liability to her in this. And who could blame her for thinking that? When he’d finished drinking, he slammed the cup down so hard on the stone step that he almost broke it.

That made her sit up and twist herself round, looking at him with concern.

He couldn’t look back at her, clenched his jaw and turned his head so she wouldn’t see how hopeless he felt. Loving someone until you heart ached with it wasn’t enough, and everything wasn’t going to be alright just because he said it would be. He was fooling himself if he thought that. But he obviously wasn’t fooling her. They were going to fail in this. There was going to be no happy ending and he was going to die of a broken heart.

"William?" She turned herself completely around, kneeling on the step in front of him, tugging at his face. Forcing him to look at her. He tried to cover it with his hand, afraid that he was going to cry, and he didn’t want her to see him do that, but she wouldn’t let him.

"Shall I cut your hair for you tomorrow?" She threaded her fingers in it, watching her hand as she combed it back for him. He shivered as her hand caressed him, watched her intent gaze as she continued.

"It’s far too long for fashionable society."

"I’m sorry Buffy." He caught her wrist and stopped her. "I’m sorry if you don’t think I can protect you."

She went very still and looked at him long and hard, her expression sad and wistful. "I don’t think that." Her hand went to continue its combing but he held her still.

"Did you hear me? I’m just a hopeless drunk with fanciful notions of things I have no hope of delivering. You should run away, take some things of value from the house and sell them, get yourself a good lawyer. From what you tell me it was self-defence anyway, and you’ll have a good chance of getting off. I'll only be a hindrance to you."

She shook her head, but he squeezed her hand even tighter, pulling her against him. "I’ve got a bag of silver sixpences in my room. One for every Christmas until I was fifteen, when I realised that I would never be going anywhere to spend them, so why the hell was Ethan giving them to me anyway? You can have them, it’s all the cash I’ve got." His voice broke again as he remembered the day he’d told Ethan not to give him any more. The day he’d realised that his life was going nowhere.

"I had such plans for that money. I was going to travel the world and find a cure for this thing that’s wrong with me. Was going to be a proper man. Then I could have helped you."

He was frightening her, could see it in her startled eyes so close to his, and he wondered when the conversation had suddenly become about him. He was feeling sorry for himself, when she had the shadow of the noose hanging over her head. And all he could do was sit here and cry, because right now he didn’t know what else to do. Because he was so scared he was going to lose her it made him incapable of coherent thought. She needed his help and all he could do was dissolve into a sad pathetic heap in front of her.

But he needed these tears, just couldn’t hold them any longer. All week he’d sat stoically by and watched her and thought about her and worried about her. He’d worked himself into a frenzy over that kiss, imagined what it would be like to take her to bed and make love to her until they were both breathless with wanting, and now he was more scared than he’d ever been in his life.

This wasn’t ghost stories in the dark. It wasn’t thunderstorms that made you cower under the bedclothes, or things that went bump in the night. It was the pure terror that came from knowing that something was going to happen and there wasn’t a thing you could do about it. He had to hurt when she hurt, be forever hovering close by to catch her in case she fell, and all of a sudden he didn’t think he could do it. He wasn’t man enough.

More than ever he needed to be strong for her, her anxious eyes told him that, but all he could do was grab hold of her and bury his face into her chest and cry out all his fear and frustration and inadequacy. But in between the tears he managed to get out something that he had to tell her. Even if now was the wrong time and he’d probably confused and scared her to death with his mad ramblings.

"I love you Buffy, Elizabeth, whoever you are." His arms tightened around her as he told her, meaning it more than he’d ever meant anything in his life.

"God, I love you so much."

Elizabeth tried to focus above the pounding in her head. He was still telling her that he loved her, but more quietly now, murmuring it softly under his breath and his breathing seemed to be returning to normal. She’d had her tears and now it was his turn, so she held him and comforted him the best she could, telling him that she was sorry that she’d hurt his feelings and that he’d done nothing but his best for her. She didn’t think he’d heard her, but bit by bit he calmed down until he at last lifted his head and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes.

"Not very helpful." He looked embarrassed at his display, in the way his eyes avoided her, but also something else. As he sniffed and wiped at his tears she could see him settling once more, as if they had been a release of sorts and now he was able to think rationally again. She could feel the panic receding and the calmness returning.

"Do you feel better now?"

He nodded, giving her a little grin that was more like a grimace, but at least he was trying. "I don’t know what happened." He shook his head, as if there was something he couldn’t quite believe. "It was us I felt sorry for, but it took the memory of that stupid bag of sixpences to make me cry. " He looked at her as if he needed her to explain it to him. "Why should that be?"

"It’s often the case William." She knew exactly what he meant because it had happened to her. Things would build and build but it was often something trivial and seemingly inconsequential that triggered the release of emotion. "Just an emotional memory, that’s all. Will you show them to me?"

"They won’t get you very far." He laughed at this, but there was no humour in it. And even though he’d lifted his head, he was still holding her to him as if she was going to disappear there and then.

"I’m not going anywhere, my love. Not without you."

He stilled and searched her face for evidence that he’d heard her right.

"Yes, I did say my love. You heard me correctly. I don’t know when I started falling in love with you, it was just so easy. You are a very easy person to love, William."

"Say it again."

"I love you William, and I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean to make you feel unworthy. It’s just that I’ve had far too much wine and brandy, and it was possibly the worse time to be having this conversation. And now I have such a headache."

"And here am I crying all over you and making it worse." He stood and she let him pull her up, her legs stiff from kneeling. "Come, let’s get you to bed. We’ll think of a solution tomorrow, there has to be one."

"I think you are right. Things will look better in the morning, when we’re not so drunk."

She followed him into the house and watched as he locked the back door. Then he took her hand.

"I am already not so drunk, so I have no excuse for that display out there. I was feeling sorry for myself when I should have been feeling sorry for you."

"But it is quite normal to feel like that. We have both had our moment of panic, I think?"

"Perhaps."

"And I have every faith that you will do your very best by me."

She couldn’t see him very well in the darkness, the candle had gone out and the range burned down to embers. He led her along the corridor with the practised ease of one who was familiar with every corner of the house, and stopped them both at her bedroom door. There was a long silence, during which Elizabeth’s heart felt as if it was beating so loudly that she felt sure he could hear it.

"Shall I say goodnight then?" He didn’t sound as if he wanted to go, more as if he was saying it because he felt he should.

"No." She was surprised that she’d found enough voice to say it with. Reaching behind her she opened the bedroom door and backed into it, drawing him in with her. He closed it behind him and she heard his breathing become a little erratic as he waited.

"I have something else to tell you, and then will you just hold me and stay with me tonight? I think we need to hold on to each other right now, I just need to feel you near me."

"I can do that for you." He stepped forward and pulled her against him. "If you have never been drunk before, I have to tell you that you're going to feel even worse than this in the morning."

"Worse than this? Oh no." She tried to inject a little lightheartedness into her tone, but she couldn't help feeling a slight wave of panic at the discomfort that the dreaded hangover was going to bring. "Come then, let's go to bed. I find that I am suddenly and sorely in need of that sleep you keep talking about."

"I've had a lot of experience in these matters."

He led her over to the bed and then neither of them seemed to know what to do next. She climbed up and took off her shoes, but he just stood there as if waiting for her to make the next move, so she threw back the quilt and lay down. Then she felt the bed creak as he climbed up and moved towards her. She was still fully dressed, but it was probably appropriate for their first time together, and feeling ill as she was, she couldn't imagine anything happening anyway. She reached out her arms as he lay down beside her and there was some shifting and accommodating as they both got comfortable.

"Do you still have your boots on?"

"Umm." She felt him sit up and fumble with them, dropping them one by one over the side of the bed, then he lay down again and they wriggled back into position.

"Sorry about that, I'm a little nervous."

"Of what?"

"Of what else you're going to say. And doing this with you. It means a lot Buffy. It's just one more step along the way."

"Oh, William, you weren't expecting..."

"No, no, it's better this way. We may not have much time, but I want to learn everything about you. It will mean more if we go slowly."

"But you will want to..?"

"If you do?"

"I do, William, but you are right. There is too much emotion tonight and I would not want you to think I was doing it just because I wanted you to help me."

She moved herself a little closer to him, feeling his hair tickling her cheek and remembering all the things Willow had told her about the marriage bed. She wanted to do all those things with him, wanted him to induce those wicked feelings that genteel young ladies were not supposed to have. And she wanted to do the same for him. She'd already felt how he reacted when she touched his hair or stroked her finger along his arm. Saw how he looked at her when she wore these loose, revealing gowns, and it thrilled her to know that there was so much more that she could do for him. They could learn together, but not tonight.

"William, you need to relax, or neither of us is going to sleep."

"Sorry." She felt him let out a deep breath as if he was making a conscious effort to let go. "Is that better?"

"A little."

They lay quietly for a while and then she must have shivered or given him an indication that she was cold, because he reached over and pulled the quilt across them both. Then she remembered that she still had something to tell him.

"William. We'll always be honest with each other, won't we?"

"I hope so, why do you ask?"

"Because when I first met you, I wasn't entirely honest with you."

"Oh, and how was that?" He didn't sound shocked or surprised at her words, almost as if he'd gone beyond any sort of emotional response whatsoever at that moment.

"I thought that if I flattered you, and pretended to be helpless, then you would look after me."

"I know."

"You knew, then why did you not say anything?"

"Because I wanted your attention, whatever your motive. I just wanted you."

"You have me William, burden that I am. So, we will always be honest with each other from now on?"

"Yes, but that means I too have to make a confession."

"You do?"

"I fear that I mislead you about Miss Abigail."

"You did?"

"She wasn't dying of consumption at all."

"I'm glad to hear that. And I suppose the pigs couldn't dance either?"

"No, I made that bit up."

"And the bear?"

"Him too."

"No matter." She felt herself drifting off as he relaxed, vaguely hoping that they would wake up before Tara found them tomorrow morning. "William, stop worrying, your secret is safe with me."

She felt him tensing again and couldn't suppress a giggle at his discomfort in this matter. Who'd have thought he would have found a simple romantic novel a source of so much embarrassment? And who would have thought that tonight would have ended like this?

He was right in saying that everything they did was another step in their relationship. They didn't always go forward, sometimes it was necessary to take a step back just so you could have a clearer look at the path, but everyday they had gone that bit further in love and understanding and together they would face the future. Together they'd work out what to do, and even if it did end in tragedy they'd have known this. And it was already more than she could ever have imagined having.

Just want to take a moment to thank everyone for the wonderful feedback on this story, LadyAnne for being a great beta and Hazel, Andrea, Becky and Wendy for their always helpful and encouraging comments.
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