Chapter 22

Honour. It was all I had left to me when they locked me away. And the last thing I had left to lose. So I held it close and knew I would defend it to my dying breath. Knowing it was still there, intact, when I came out, saved my life. If something is precious enough, it's worth the fight. Some things you just don't compromise on, because without them, you're nothing.

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If Buffy hadn't been holding him so tightly, he'd have already been halfway across town. The only thing that stopped William getting straight into the car and finishing this once and for all was the fact that Buffy had him pinned hard against the wall and wasn't about to let him go anywhere.

A moment of pure panic, where he'd remembered Cordelia's words about Buffy and Liam having an affair, had given way to anger, the like of which he hadn't felt since he'd been in prison. The kind of anger that didn't let him stop and think, it just made him react. It was a shock that he could still feel it so badly. A shock that he could have even entertained the thought of Buffy and Liam together, and a shock that he hadn't even taken the trouble to find out what had happened to her before trying to take off.

"Buffy, it's alright." He managed to peel her fingers off and kept hold of them as he looked down into her frightened eyes. Calming her while he fought to calm himself. "Not going anywhere. Tell me what happened."

"Promise?"

"I do, Buffy. For God's sake, tell me what he did."

Her fingers were in his shirt again, pulling at it, even though he'd stopped struggling to free himself. "Will, promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"Are you okay?"

Buffy nodded, her expression guarded as she let go of him. He touched her face, anger bubbling up again as he took in the black finger-marks. "Did he hit you?"

"No, nothing like that." Buffy slipped her hand into his. "Come sit down with me and I'll tell you what happened."

William pressed his lips together to stop him saying anything, figuring he ought to listen to what she had to say before he went to see Liam. Because he was going to see him, despite anything he'd promised. Primitive a feeling though it was, no-one was did this to her and got away with it. Not while he had anything to do with it. One thing being in prison had taught him was that you had to stay in control. Once you'd lost that, things just spiralled away from you and you were left helpless. If they gave Liam power now, they were always going to be living in fear of him. Buffy might not see that, but William did.

All he wanted to do was kneel at her feet, like a knight of old receiving a favour from the woman he loved, then be allowed to go off and kill the dragon for her. He sat beside her instead, because she couldn't begin to understand how he felt about this. Or know the lessons he'd learned. Wander through the ghetto of life and you're bound to come out a changed man. Oh yes, Spike was still there and suddenly William felt a fraud for thinking he could be with someone as nice as her, with all the genteel trappings of an ordinary life around them. Prison had taught him to feel the shame, and he still did.

Which was why he needed her more than ever.

"I went to see Liam," she said when they were settled in their favourite place on the sofa, in the living room. "I just wanted to ask him to back off. I don't think he means any real harm, Will. This is just how he is. Likes to have fun at other people's expense."

William pointed to her cheek. "And this?" They were finger marks, he could see that clearly now, and shit, he wanted to wash them off for her, but he was feeling oddly shy, as if he'd been propelled back in time to the first day he'd come here and she wasn't the woman he was going to marry in a few months time. Something had happened to her, and he hadn't been there to protect her like he should have been, and it made him feel a pathetic failure.

"It's okay to hold me, Will," she said with half a smile. "I could use a hug right now."

He had gone cold as he'd prepared himself to go defend her honour.. That was another lesson he'd learned, too well. Strip yourself of any emotion but the determination to win. If you weren't the person left standing at the end of it, you could well be dead. It wasn't an exaggeration, he'd seen it happen. It had nearly happened to him. But her eyes would melt the coldest block of ice

The hug was a little awkward. Somehow they couldn't seem to get the position right and they sat stiffly in each other's arms while he waited for her to carry on with her tale. William's thoughts drifted to the hunting knife he kept in one of his boxes in the attic. Buffy knew it was there, but she'd never seen it. He'd been surprised that she'd let it stay, perhaps knowing he still needed that level of security. Buying it had seemed perfectly logical when he'd been released and it had taken a long time to remember that most ordinary people didn't go about armed.

"I went to the garage with him, just to talk, and it's all sorted. He won't bother us again."

He wanted to see her face, but when he tried to twist round, she burrowed her head further into his chest. There were things she wasn't telling him, he didn't have to be a genius to work that one out. A hidden subtext between the words that he needed to coax out of her.

"And how did it get sorted?"

"Will you kiss me, Will?"

Buffy raised her face to him, her eyes half-closed, more as if she was hiding something than out of passion. Her fingers drifted over his cheek, pulling him down to her and when their lips touched he tasted fresh lipstick as his mouth slid over hers. The desperation in the kiss surprised him. When he tried to break away she brought her other hand up and anchored him in place with a grip that was almost painful.

It melted him, a little more. Knowing that she needed him as much as he needed her and he let her decide how long it should last, not wanting her to retreat any further from him. By the time she pulled away he was hot all over, and when she started on the buttons of his shirt he found himself doing the same to her. She still had her coat on. He'd only just noticed as he was pushing it down over her shoulders with short, jerky movements, while a small voice in the back of his head told him that he should be asking her to be honest with him, not letting himself be distracted by this. It fell to the floor and she lay back, inviting him in with outstretched arms and he went, because she asked. He didn't need a better reason than that.

"Make love to me first," she said, her voice shaky, eyes anxious as she locked gazes with him. "Just need to know you love me like I love you, Will. Then I'll tell you what happened."

If he'd been ice before, in that split second of an eternity when he'd thought she was going to leave him for Liam, then now he was a warm puddle, melting into the power of her need for him. Never before had he felt so loved, or wanted to give back in such equal measure and, with startling clarity, the painful logic of his life fell into place. Heaven was twice as sweet if you had to walk through hell to get there.

The person who kissed her was the little boy who'd been rejected by his parents. The teenager who'd worn his independence like a badge of honour. The carefree student who'd breezed through university and truly believed anything was possible. The broken man who'd reached inside himself and found what he'd needed to survive.

And someone who was neither of these people, yet all of them put together. He was the man who loved her, and always would. Who'd been falling in love with her from the moment he'd met her, and even though he'd already made a commitment to marry her, the power of it was only just hitting him.

Never mind orchestras and angelic choirs. This was a bloody hurricane blowing right through him and shaking him to the core. "I love you," he said and wondered where the voice had come from. Because sometimes she rendered him speechless.

Her answering smile was warm and understanding. As he dipped his head he caught the same words whispered against his ear and it made him tremble. She'd asked for solace, but they met as equals, both in the giving and the receiving. "Tell me what he did," he said in between soft kisses. "Let me put it right."

"He tried to kiss me. It was nothing, just a kiss."

Anger clouded his vision again, sharp and black, stabbing at his heart. He stored it away for a time when he'd need it. A time that would come soon enough. Now he needed to remind her that a kiss was an expression of love between two people, not a weapon. It was as tender as he could make it, packed with emotion, his hand lightly threaded in her short hair, and he could feel her responding in kind, as if it was exactly what she needed.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked when they broke free.

"No, he didn't. I wouldn't have let him," she said. "And I don't think he wanted anything else."

William shifted so he was lying beside her, her head on his shoulder, gently encouraging her to tell him everything.

"I don't think he even wants me back," she went on. "It was weird. Like he was trying to prove he could kiss me if he still wanted to. Doesn't make sense."

Yes it does, he thought. Liam had thrown down the gauntlet. How could he not pick it up?

"I went to the garage this morning. There was no-one there."

"Will, why?" Buffy lifted her head. "You mustn't go looking for trouble, please don't."

"He's asking for it, Buffy. It's not about you, is it? It's about me."

"But he told me not to tell you what had happened."

"And he really thought you wouldn't?"

William sat up, pulling Buffy with him. Desire fading with the sickening feeling that they were never going to leave him alone until he'd proved himself stronger. It was no different out here than it was in prison after all.

"Make love to me," Buffy ordered him. "Come upstairs and make love to me, in our bed."

Maybe it would make the feeling go away? He doubted it, but he went, and in the touch of her hand, the warmth of her breath on his skin he found the desire again. It was never very far away. Losing himself in the heat and the taste of her helped to push the outside world away, just for a short time. And when she called out his name as she came apart in his arms he knew it was him she wanted.

The aftermath was almost as pleasurable as the lovemaking. Lying tired and satisfied in the arms of someone you love was surely one of life's luxuries? They lay quietly together and when William felt Buffy drifting off he stroked her hair to encourage her. The real world was coming back, and he knew what he had to do. Knew he couldn't let this go. And knew, too that Buffy wasn't going to like it.

Gathering up his clothes, he moved quietly from the room and closed the door behind him. He dressed on the landing, sitting on the top step to tie his boot laces, then went downstairs. A quick check in the mirror told him what he needed to know and there was, in his heart, the vain hope that it might not come down to anything more than a shouting match if he was lucky.

He didn't take the car because the sound of the engine would wake Buffy, but it was no more than a ten minute walk to the garage. Or a five minute run, he thought, breaking into a trot. The bastard was going to think twice before he ever thought of touching Buffy again.

And it was Spike, not William, who walked into the garage five minutes later.

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William went straight to the workshop, sparing only a quick glance at the red-brick store as he passed. The lights were still on, but there were no signs that it was open yet. He'd slowed down to a walk, but his step was brisk, and determined. His fists already balled. If you went looking for trouble, you needed to be prepared to find it. Needed to have already said the words and fought the fight in your head. The workshop looked empty as his eyes swept the large, hangar-like space until he noticed movement in the small office at the back. Narrowing his eyes, he took a breath and walked across.

The sight of Liam leaning casually on the counter as he wrote what looked like an invoice made something explode inside of William, sending any thoughts that this might be resolved with words right out of the window. Liam was a good head taller than he was, but when had that ever counted for anything?

"Got a message for you, mate," he said, as he crossed the space between them.

The crack of fist against flesh split the air. William took a breath and stepped back, ignoring the pain in his hand as he waited for Liam to recover from the punch. The larger man hadn't had a chance to ignore the blow. All he'd managed was a look of recognition, followed by an expression of surprise as William's fist landed in his face. He'd staggered a little and caught hold of the counter edge to steady himself, and now he was slowly standing up, his eyes fixed firmly on William who stood impassively in front of him.

"Hey, Andrew," he said, and William looked around, puzzled as to why he was calling him Andrew, only to find a startled looking youth who was in the process of sidling his way out of the door behind him.

Crap. Witnesses were the last thing he needed. Hell, but when had this ever been a good idea?

"Got some business to attend to," Liam continued, rubbing at his jaw. "Car'll be ready tomorrow, I'll call you."

"You got it." Andrew slammed the door in his haste to get away and Liam laughed, shaking his head at some private joke, at Andrew's hasty departure, or at him? William couldn't tell. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Liam had landed one on him, catching him hard on the side of the mouth, splitting his lip and sending him sprawling across the bench seat. He scrabbled to get up, fighting through the sea of stars and the ringing in his ears and oblivious to everything but the man now leaning over him. The opening shots had made it crystal clear which way this was going to go and he was more than ready for it.

Liam grabbed him by his jacket and held him down.

"So, we get to see the big bad at last, do we?" he said, contempt evident as he surveyed his handiwork. "That all you got?"

William didn't waste time talking. Instead, he spat out a mouthful of blood, spraying Liam across the cheek, and followed it with a head-butt that sent Liam staggering backwards. The pain of it hardly registered as he sprang up and kicked Liam hard and low in the stomach. Liam doubled over with a loud grunt and crumpled to the ground.

From the moment he'd walked in, William had realised that the rules were different. This was a working out of frustration, not a life and death situation. It was the first fight where he didn't feel the gut-wrenching fear that had given him a much-needed edge. The fact that there were rules at all brought home just how different this was, as he stood waiting for Liam to recover his breath. Giving him a sporting chance? That was a new one.

Blood dripped from his cut-lip, and he wiped it away with his sleeve. This, in some ways, was more frightening than anything he'd ever done. More calculated, colder. The only fear he felt was at the thought of what Buffy was going to say to all this. Would she forgive Spike so readily once she'd seen him in action?

Liam staggered upright, an evil grin on his face. Still laughing. "Was wondering when you were going to show," he said.

"Yeah, well, figured I'd give you something more challenging than a girl to fight."

Liam looked recovered enough so William threw another punch. A light jab with his right hand, which Liam caught in mid-air, followed by a hard left against Liam's side. Another grunt, but this time Liam didn't go down and William found himself propelled backwards, jammed against the counter by the force of Liam's head hitting him squarely in the stomach. He was too busy struggling to breathe and couldn't do much to avoid Liam's next punch apart from twisting his face to the side to stop him breaking his nose. The blow threw him sideways, cracking the side of his head against the corner of the counter, and this time he felt the pain.

Liam's voice sounded like a record being played too slow. William shook his head and tried to focus on the sound which seemed to be coming from a long way off. It came nearer as Liam crouched beside him.

"Bet it kills you that I had her first, doesn't it? Likes it rough, by the way. Not really surprising she's gone for someone like you."

Shit, he was fighting for Buffy, but it was Buffy who was making him weak. Making him pull his punches, because he knew she wouldn't want him here, doing this. Especially in her name.

"Just stay away from her." William pulled himself into a sitting position, talking through swollen lips that made his voice sound slurred and thick, and he was having trouble getting the words out. "It's all I want."

Liam stood up. "Seems to me you got no right coming here telling anyone what you want. Psycho like you belongs in prison. They should have thrown away the fucking key."

William wiped his face again, cleaning the blood that was trickling into his eye and he thought sod the rules. Society hadn't played fair with him, so why should he bother? And he hadn't come here to be the one lying on the floor, whipped, while Liam strutted and crowed over him. What the hell would be the point of that?

Liam was in mid- sentence when William caught him around the legs. He wobbled, almost comically as he tried to kick him off, waving his arms in an effort to keep his balance, but William hung on, grimly, since his world was waving about all over the place too. Liam toppled against the door which flew back, spilling them both into the workshop. William went on pure instinct, hoping to get another punch in so he could leave with his dignity intact, but feeling more as if he was going to throw up all over the guy than knock him unconscious.

He raised a weary fist, vaguely aware of the workshop doors rolling back as he brought it down, probably hurting himself more than he was hurting Liam. A woman screamed and then his head was wrenched back as someone grabbed him by the hair and pulled him away. He rolled to his side as she let go, propped himself on an elbow and spat blood onto the workshop floor. Beside him Liam groaned, his hand clamped to his forehead, blood trickling through his fingers and above them stood Cordelia, hand on hips, face blazing.

"What the hell is going on?"

The words cut through the pounding in his head and William winced and held on to it, because it felt as if it was going to drop off. Cordelia screeched again and he closed his eyes. When he re-opened them she was kneeling beside Liam, one hand behind his head as she helped him into a sitting position. There was a horizontal cut on the side of Liam's brow, which he must have hit on something as they crashed through the door, and from somewhere William could hear a pneumatic drill, only he wasn't sure if it was in his head or not.

Cordelia found Liam some paper towel from a dispenser on the wall and pressed it against his head, surprisingly unsympathetically for someone who was supposed to be madly in love with him. Liam moaned again and Cordelia lifted his own hand there to secure it, disdainfully looking down at the few drops of blood that had splashed onto her coat.

"I thought I told you not to come back?" She favoured William with a glare and Liam lifted his head in surprise at the news that he'd been there before. Then she turned to Liam. "What are we? Ten years old? God, childish much."

"Shut-up, Cordy, and give me a hand." Liam found his voice at last and William felt obliged to struggle to his feet too, since he didn't want to be the only one lying on the floor. Cordelia glared at him again, then begrudgingly pushed a paper towel at him. Mumbling his thanks, he patted gingerly at the cut over his right eye. Now he had a matching pair, he thought feeling a little sheepish under Cordelia's withering scrutiny.

Every last drop of the energy that had got him here was used up and now that Cordelia had arrived there was nothing left to do but beat a tactical retreat and hope he'd done enough to make his point.

"I want to know what's going on. What's really going on," Cordelia demanded, still very much in charge. She turned to Liam. "Are you and Buffy having an affair? Is that what this is all about?"

Liam let out an explosive laugh. "Hell, no Cordy. Psychopath there just marched in here and hit me for no reason."

"Tell her the truth."

Cordelia's head whipped round. "I knew it." She was going for mad, but William could see the hurt in her eyes, and hear it in her voice. Turning back to Liam she said, in a tight voice. "How long?"

"They're not having an affair, Cordelia. He attacked her, earlier today. That's what this is all about."

Liam laughed, all the time shooting daggers at William. "In your dreams. He's just jealous because Buffy still has the major hots for me. Can't take that she might be having second thoughts about this stupid marriage. Can you blame her?" His voice trailed away when he saw that Cordelia was most definitely not laughing along with him.

"Ask Buffy what happened."

"Shut up, William, and just go." Cordelia turned her back, effectively dismissing him. "And as for you," Cordelia glared at Liam. "I want the truth, and it better be good or I'm walking out that door for the last time."

"Aww, come on, baby. Would I lie to you? I need you, and this hurts real bad." Liam reached out a hand.

Cordelia closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. William had to wonder why she would ever think of taking him back, but thankfully it wasn't his business and he spared it no more than a single thought. Damage limitation with Buffy was his major pre-occupation as he made his way to the door. And getting some pain-killers into himself, because his head was on fire now that the adrenaline surge had died right down.

"Call the police for me, Cordy." Liam's voice cut through the space between them. "Bastard needs locking away."

Please, no. Not that. William froze in place, exchanging a glance with Cordelia who looked back with something almost akin to sympathy.

"Got a witness, Willy, boy," Liam called after him, his voice mocking and triumphant. "Unprovoked attack. You are so going down. Again." His voice turned hard. "Make the call, Cordy."

If William had ever had a greatest nightmare, then this was it. Going back to prison. It was what every ex-inmate feared. He'd be a walking statistic, a self-fulfilling prophecy. It happened all the time. Innocent men, they did their time and came out criminals. And there was only one place criminals belonged and that was back inside.

The last thing he saw before he ran through the door was Cordelia reaching for the phone on the work-shop wall. Fear sent him dodging through the traffic to the boardwalk on the other side of the road and he was thankful to make it down the steps onto the beach before he threw up. The world spun alarmingly as he emptied his stomach so he sat down on the damp sand when the spasms subsided, too dizzy to walk.

No, no, no. This couldn't be happening, he told himself, keeping one ear open for the expected police sirens. But it was, and he'd walked straight into it. Groping in his jacket pocket he pulled out his wallet, flipped it open with a shaky hand and checked for his credit card while his mind raced on. If he was quick, he might make the seven o' clock flight to England, or any place that wasn't here. And once he was gone, he was gone. That was a given.

What the hell was he thinking? Running out on Buffy. All the plans they'd made. How would she ever forgive him?

But what the hell use was he going to be to her back in prison? His stomach heaved again and he leaned against the wall, feeling the colour drain from his face. It had been bad the first time this had happened, and he hadn't known what to expect then. Now that he knew what prison was like it was a thousand times worse.

He should at least say goodbye, didn't he owe her that? The thought made tears sting his eyes, but he wiped them clean. This was no time to wimp-out. Buffy had helped him find his strength and he needed every ounce of it right now. Hard though it would be, he owed her an explanation. The thought that she might go with him crossed his mind fleetingly and evaporated to nothing. This is where she belonged, in the house back there. Where she could hear the sea that she'd always loved.

The world turns on the decisions we make and he had no-one to blame for this, but himself. Hadn't she told him not to go confront Liam?

William pushed the regrets away, staggering to his feet and thinking that there'd be plenty of time for those later. And for the self-pity. He could beat himself up at his leisure, when he was stuck in some basement flat on the other side of the ocean. Alone.

His chance in a lifetime and he'd gone and blown it to hell.

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William's side of the bed was empty. Buffy blinked a couple of times and sat up, rubbing at her eyes to clear away the sleep. Her mind felt muddled in the way it did when she slept during the day. Filled with half remembered dreams, Liam's moment of madness, and William. Where was he?

His clothes weren't on the floor where he'd dropped them, which probably meant he'd gone for a smoke. She couldn't blame him for that. Too much stress to make giving up an easy thing. Roll on the New York trip. Much as she loved this place, they both needed to get away and onto neutral ground for a while. Recharge the batteries and get away from the petty, small-town mentality to somewhere where they could just be anonymous.

Sometimes she wondered if they were doing the right thing by staying here. Especially with what had happened this morning. Picking up her clothes she started to dress, surprised to see William's cigarettes lying on the floor. So, he hadn't gone for a smoke, she thought putting them on his nightstand. Still, it was a big house and he could easily be in the study, or the kitchen without her knowing.

She walked onto the landing pulling on her zip- up fleece and listening for signs of life. He'd been emptying boxes in the spare room these last few days. Putting his books onto shelves, that sort of thing. She knew about the knife and didn't particularly like it. Not that they didn't have knives just as wicked-looking in the kitchen. It was more what it represented that disturbed her. She'd never plucked up the courage to ask him if he had a gun, or if he'd ever owned one.

The knife made her think about what had happened earlier and how he'd tried to take off the minute he'd realised Liam was involved. But he'd promised, she told herself sternly. Told her he wouldn't go. And he'd never take the knife. To go look and see if he had would be a betrayal of her trust in him, so she didn't, and made for the stairs instead, sure she'd find him in the kitchen having his coffee fix.

Liam had been right about one thing. Unpleasant though the assault had been, at least now she knew. William kissed with heart and soul. Liam kissed to impress. It was no contest.

The phone rang when she was half-way down the stairs and she'd already spotted, with a sinking feeling, William's jacket missing from the coat-stand. i Please no, /i she thought, racing down the remaining stairs, picking the phone up and jamming it under her chin while she peered through the window to see if the car was still there.

Didn't mean anything though. William was peculiarly English when it came to walking versus cars.

Cordelia's voice cut through her thoughts, putting her instantly on the defensive because she sounded mad as hell.

"Look, I can't talk. Got to go out." Buffy snagged the car keys as she spoke, then her jacket, only half-paying attention to the babbling at the other end of the phone. If she took the car she might just get to the garage first. She was unlocking the door when Cordelia told her exactly where William was, and that she'd better get the hell over there like now, because he and Liam had just tried to kill each other."

Buffy threw the phone onto the chair, cutting Cordelia off in mid-rant and slammed the door.

He'd promised he wouldn't do this. Buffy couldn't help the flash of annoyance that he'd take such a risk. But wasn't this part of the package, she reminded herself. Spike was always going to be in the mix. William had warned her of that more than once.

He was hurt and probably terrified at the mention of the police, and she loved him and everything he was. That was the bottom line. Keep it simple, she told herself. And the poor guy was only human, hell she'd have probably done the same herself if she was him. And would she have told him about Liam if she'd noticed those oil marks first?

There was a single customer waiting at the pumps when she arrived.

"Closed," she shouted as she ran past. Then she added. "Power's out, try later."

"But..." the man began, pointing to the obvious lights in the store. Buffy ignored him. The roller-doors were open and there were people in the office. Liam and Cordy, anyway. They both looked up when she pushed open the door.

"Look what you've done," Cordelia said with her characteristic bluntness. She pointed to Liam who was leaning back on the bench, holding a bag of ice to his cheek and looking extremely sorry for himself. The first-aid box lay open beside him and there was a thick wad of gauze taped to his forehead.

It was a shocking sight, and William was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"He ran out, when this jerk started ranting about the police. Talk to him, Buffy. It's your mess, you sort it."

"How is this my mess? Cordy, which way did he go? Is he badly hurt?"

"Common denominator Buffy. That's how it's your mess."

Buffy didn't stop to argue the point, because in a way, Cordelia was right and the most important thing was stopping Liam involving the police. She turned to him.

"You're not really going to do this, are you?"

"See what he did to me." He lowered the ice-bag to reveal the start of a massive bruise. "Unprovoked, Buffy. Got a witness who saw him hit me first. Guy's a lunatic."

"Okay, he hit you first, he shouldn't have done that. But you can hardly say it was unprovoked. Don't do this, Liam."

"He's going down, Buffy. Cordy, make the call."

Cordelia folded her arms instead and Buffy shot her a grateful glance.

"Liam, I'm begging you, please don't do this."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

"Damn you, Liam." Buffy felt something harden inside of her. He wanted to play dirty? Fine, she'd show him dirty. "Call the police Liam, and I'll have some very interesting things to tell them myself."

"Like what?"

"Like you attacked me."

"It wasn't..."

"You invited me back here and then you tried to force yourself on me."

"When?" It was Cordelia's turn to look shocked.

"Less than an hour ago, Cordy. We came back here to talk and he tried to kiss me. I swear I didn't do anything to encourage him."

"Like hell you didn't." Liam sat up. "You've got no proof."

"Maybe not, but it'll cause one hell of a scandal. No smoke without fire, isn't that what they say?"

"You wouldn't do it. You wouldn't do it to him."

"Try me," Buffy said, leaning close. ""I'll show them this," she said holding up her bruised wrist. I'm not that little sixteen year old any more, Liam. I've learned that, at long last. You mess with the man I love, you mess with me. Capisce?"

"Excuse me, Buffy." Cordelia unfolded her arms and stepped up.

"Be my guest," Buffy said with a flourish. She sucked in a theatrical breath as Cordelia cracked him one across the cheek. "Oh my," she said, wincing. "That's got to hurt."

"Hopefully," Cordelia said, gathering up her purse.

"What the hell is wrong with you today?" Liam's voice was a squeaky whine as he nursed his cheek.

"Let's just say I've seen the light," Cordelia threw back at him. "Goodbye."

"Wait, Cordy. Who's going to drive me to the hospital?"

"Call a cab."

"Buffy?"

"Meant what I said, Liam. I will do it."

For once, he didn't have an answer for her and walking out on him was sweet. It felt like the end, at long last. Cordelia was waiting by her car when she left the workshop, wiping her eyes with her fingers.

"You gonna be okay?"

Cordelia sniffed. "Eventually. You?"

"As long as I find William. What are you going to do?"

"About Liam? Don't know. Leave him. Make him sweat. Cut my hair."

Buffy smiled at that. "Cordy, I'm really sorry about this. I never wanted him back, you do know that?"

Cordelia took out a handkerchief and gave her nose a good blow. "Yeah, I've kind of worked that one out now." She looked up defensively. "But you can't blame me for thinking it."

"I suppose not. Which way did William go? Did you see?"

"He just left. Looked pretty cut up."

"Hell, I gotta go."

"You do that. Take care."

"You too."

"And don't forget my wedding invite."

"You got it."

Now, all that was left was finding William. Buffy sat in the car wondering where he'd gone and praying he wasn't too badly hurt. He had enough scars to last him a lifetime, poor thing and when she thought of that it still made her heart ache. Where would she go if she was hurting and scared?

There was only one place. Buffy put the car into drive and turned for home.

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What did you choose when you needed to distil your life as it was now, into one bag? If you only had a few moments and you had to make the decision that quickly, what would you take? And what would you leave behind?

William already knew the answer to both those questions.

His peace of mind. His sanity. His self-worth.

It all boiled down to one thing. Her.

The only thing he wanted to take with him was Buffy.

William threw the half-packed bag into the closet and sat on the edge of the bed. The throbbing pain in his face was a perfect match for the one in his heart. Forgiveness had been a big thing in his life in the past few months, but how was Buffy going to forgive him this? After all the effort she'd put into him, this just proved that all he'd been doing these past few months was treading water. Running around in a big circle and ending up right where he'd started.

Her car pulling up into the driveway made him jump. His first thought was that it was a police car, but then there should have been sirens. Maybe he wasn't important enough for sirens? Maybe he wasn't anything and he was just kidding himself. Maybe none of this was real and he was still in prison, like he'd always feared?

William covered his face with his hands, too weary to even think any more. All he wanted to do was hide. Stay in this room for the rest of his life and sit still. And Christ he was hurting. Inside and out.

He heard the front door open and close. Quick footsteps on the stairs. And then she was there in the room with him, watching him from the doorway. And he felt like a foolish child who'd done something stupid and knew he was in line for a good telling off, when all he wanted was a hug and someone to tell him it was all going to be okay.

"Will?"

It wasn't a question, or a statement. It was the sound of pure relief. She crossed the room and the feel of her arms around him was like heaven.

The more you get to know someone, the less you have to say to make them understand. There comes a time in every story where a few words will speak more eloquently than pages of prose.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"How can I make it better?"

"You already have."

--------------------------------------------

It would be so much easier if all his scars were on the outside. Visible proof that yes, he'd suffered, but also that he was healing. It would have helped him as well as her, to see how far he'd come.

On the outside he looked a mess and Buffy could see exactly where and how he was hurting. Wiping away the blood, and bandaging the cuts helped to ease his physical pain, and she could do that for him because it was something she could see and quantify. When she'd finished making him comfortable there was a difference and some of the shock at seeing him so bruised and battered was beginning to wear off.

Tending to the body was one thing, but what of the soul? How was she ever to know what was going on inside? He'd told her once that she had no idea what prison had been like for him, and he was right. He'd hardly said a thing since she'd got back, and although some of the pain was so obvious it didn't need putting into words, the rest she could only wait for. One day she'd have the whole story. Possibly find out that it had all been worse than she'd imagined and she'd regret not having done more for him.

She couldn't take his pain away. All she could do was hold him, let him know he was loved, and help him to let it go.

"How did you convince him not to call the police?"

"It wasn't hard. Stop worrying about it, Will."

"You're sure he won't?"

"I'm sure. Let me take you to the hospital. That cut needs stitching."

"No, I'll be alright. Nothing they can do for me that's better than this. Got the best medicine on earth, right here." His fingers closed around hers. "Powerful stuff, this. Can you feel it?"

"Yeah, I can. Get some sleep, Will. Do you need anything else?"

"Nahh. Just hold me, and be here when I wake up, yeah?"

Buffy shifted against the headboard, letting him rest on her. He always asked for so little, and she wanted to give him everything.

"I let you down, love, after all you've done for me. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. I should have helped you more."

"Hey, don't go muscling in on my guilt. Tragic hero here, I'm supposed to be feeling the weight of the world."

It was nice to see his humour returning, self deprecating though it was.

"Trouble is," he continued. "I've made you feel it too."

"No problem. Strong shoulders, see." Buffy wriggled against him and William laughed.

"Strongest person I ever met. Bloody glad I've got you fighting in my corner."

"It's what you were doing for me, Will. Only in a more manly, macho way, of course," she added.

"Well, no-one insults my woman and gets away with it."

"What is it with you men?"

"Testosterone..."

Watching him sleep was something she didn't get to do very often. He drifted off eventually, when he'd satisfied himself that he'd been forgiven for breaking his promise, and Buffy tipped her head back and listened to him breathing.

Squally rain spattered against the window pane, increasing the sense that this house was a haven, a place of safety from the storms of life. Somewhere they both belonged. That he'd come back here had been a good sign.

And Liam's behaviour? What was it William had said? That Spike had probably always been there, but it had taken a certain set of circumstances to bring him out. It was a bit shocking to think that she'd been the trigger for Liam's dark side, after all they'd been through.

Her thoughts quietened as she listened to the rain and, despite having slept earlier she nodded off and started to dream. When she woke up she had a neck cramp from sleeping sitting up and she was alone. William's coat was still lying on the floor and she had to resist the urge to go find him. He needed her, but she didn't have to follow him everywhere. She lay back, rubbing her forehead and wondering where he'd gone.

Ten seconds later she was out of bed picking up the coat. William could be sleepwalking, suffering a concussion, or both. He shouldn't be alone. Opening the closet, she threw it in and spotted his travel bag, haphazardly stuffed with clothes. A testament to the terror he'd felt at the thought of going back to prison. The framed photograph of the two of them in Victorian costume had fallen out onto the floor, and for some reason, seeing that he'd packed that saddened her more than finding out he'd been trying to run away. Leave it, she told herself. What's important is that he stayed.

The attic door was open so that looked like a good place to start. Even better that Napoleon was sitting on the top step, casually washing himself. The cat hero-worshipped William and was never far from where he was. She found him sitting on the window seat in the widow's-walk, arms curled around his knees, eyes unfocussed. The contours of his face softened by the dim light. As she moved nearer she could see how badly it was swelling and she was glad she'd come to find him.

"Spike," she said, going through the familiar drill.

He looked up, hesitating for a moment before answering. "Yes."

Buffy breathed a little easier. She never quite knew how he was going to react while he was like this, especially with all that had happened today. "Come on Spike, let's get you back to bed."

"It's okay, Buffy, I'm not asleep." His voice sounded strange as he talked through his injured lip, but he'd definitely answered her question.

"William?"

"Yeah, he's still here, don't worry. Come and sit with me, love."

Buffy crossed the room and perched on the edge of the seat beside him, taking his hand when he held it out to her. His lips looked too sore to kiss so she planted one on the end of his nose instead. "Thought you were sleep-walking."

"No, pain wouldn't let me sleep. Thought I'd come up here for a think."

"About what?"

"Us, life. About how lucky I've been."

"You're not the only one, Will."

"Scares me to think where I'd be now, if I hadn't met you."

"You're a survivor, Will. You'd have done okay."

"Maybe, maybe not. I will if I have you though." He looked down at their joined hands. "Please don't ever let go."

"We're going to be happy, Will." Buffy settled against him, hitching her legs up to mirror his. "We're going to live in this house and fill it with children and grandchildren. And we're going to grow old together, and drink all that wine. And listen to the sea. And argue over silly things, and agree on all the big stuff."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Glad you approve." Buffy brought his grazed knuckles to her lips, softly kissing each one. "And most importantly of all," she said, as sure of anything as she'd ever been. "We will never, ever let each other go."

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Epilogue

Reader, I married him.

A quote from Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, and one that's always stuck in my mind. I've never quite been able to work out if it was said on a note of triumph, or relief.

Buffy and I were married, and yes, I worried right up to the day it happened that something was going to come along and spoil it. Or that I was going to wake up and discover it was all a dream. But, when I look at the ring on my finger, I know she put it there. I remember how drop-dead gorgeous she looked in her wedding dress. An off the shoulder number, dead sexy. Us guys aren't supposed to be able to remember what women wear, but I'll never forget how she looked that day.

I was nervous as hell. Knew I would be, and Xander, god-bless-him, turned up with a selection of whiskey miniatures which we drank, like couple of giggling schoolboys, behind the hot-tub cabin while we were waiting for everyone to be seated.

Not too many guests, that was supposed to have been the agreement, but hell, when you invite one person there seems to be a whole tribe connected with them who just have to come too. So we pulled in a decent crowd, and the sun shone, the bridesmaids were many, and the cake was enormous. And, despite my nerves, I wouldn't have been anywhere else. The moment when Buffy said I do and then laughed as I let out such a sigh of relief that I'm sure everyone heard, is a bit that I play over and over when I'm watching the wedding video. Which I do a lot. Not that I didn't think she was going to say it, but it felt as if I'd been holding my breath up till that moment and suddenly I could breathe again.

I don't think anyone noticed the five minutes during which we went missing. Or wondered why I spent the rest of the reception grinning like an idiot, when before I'd been as white as a sheet.

Mum and dad came, and for once, they seemed to realise it was my day and managed to be pretty low key. Apart from the bit when they arrived driving their wedding present. Kind of took the edge of it a bit when dad announced that I was to think of it as a company car, but that's dad for you. I think mum cried, not sure about that. I'll ever understand her. Gran and Joyce certainly did, and heck, I nearly did, right in the middle of my speech. Managed to choke my way through it, though. There were people who knew about me, and those who didn't, but I managed to keep my head up and look them in the eye. So much easier with my bride standing by my side.

So yes, I was mighty relieved that I got there, and it was in some ways, a triumph. For some reason I've never been able to fathom, I was chosen to be victimised and degraded. By Mandy, by the police, the judge, the jury. There's a terrible shame that comes with being stripped of your dignity by the very people who are supposed to be protecting you. Society let me down in a big way, and I'm not sure I'll ever trust authority again. But I was one of the lucky ones. I've managed to bounce back. Most of the way, anyway. I do feel proud of myself for achieving that. And some days I'm so proud of Buffy, I could burst.

I'll never forget reading this, in an article on the imprisonment of the innocent and what it does to them. This is exactly how it feels.

Going to prison is like a death. The death of the soul. They take away that part that makes you human and replace it with a number, a uniform. In the eyes of society you are an evil, soul-less thing, the living dead, left to rot in a place where the only people who see you are those who don't care.

When you come out you feel like nothing. You are nothing in the eyes of society. The world has gone on turning without you and no matter how hard you try you can't seem to be able to jump on again because it's spinning faster than you remember it ever did.

I could have stayed there. In the darkness and the shadows. Afraid and alone. The ghost of who I once was, haunting a world that had no use for me any more. But I was lucky. First in Joyce and then in Buffy. They threw me a lifeline and somehow I managed to grab hold. Managed to pull myself up. I held on, and so did they.

Buffy saw me. Right from the start she did that. Saw who I'd been, and who I'd become and she accepted it all. Made me realise that I wasn't worthless. She gave me back my life, and I'll be thanking her forever for it.

The end

Thank you for reading and for all the wonderful feedback I've had for this story. And to LadyAnne for all the great beta work she does for me. And Gia for the initial idea over at Spuffy F. ideas factory. The quote above is from Frontline, Burden of Innocence. A wonderful site where I did all my research. It really struck a chord when I read it because it was such a good analogy to someone being made a vampire. If I'd told it how it really is when this happens, I would have been accused of making it up. William's story, the accusation and aftermath is in no way exaggerated and has happened many times to many innocent people. I'm dedicating this story to them.