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Chapter 6

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This time, as he hung by his fingertips, there was someone there with him, standing at the top of the cliff. She held out her hand.

"Take it," she said.

"I can't," he said looking down. "If I let go, I'll fall. And I don't want to fall. Not any more."

"Then take my hand, I won't let go."

"Promise me," he said searching her face.

"Trust me."

She was all around him. Her hair brushing his cheek, her arm a soft weight holding him in place, her breath, hot against his neck.

"Why?" he asked her. "I don't understand why you care."

"Because I need you too," she whispered.

"You've got me love," he muttered, turning over and burrowing himself against the woman lying next to him. A feeling of relief washed over him as he realised that she was still there after all, and not gone, as he'd imagined. And his body was responding pleasantly to her nearness as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. He smiled drowsily against the bare skin of her neck and inhaled the lingering floral scent of her perfume. It didn't seem fair to wake her so he just contented himself with holding her and enjoying the quiet intimacy of lying in the dark with another human being.

He was vaguely aware of rain rattling against the window pane as he drifted back into deep sleep thinking that there was nowhere on earth that he'd rather be than here.

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Buffy woke up in the early hours needing the bathroom. Why did you always need the bathroom when you were at your most comfortable, she thought. The bed was cosy and warm so she pulled the quilt further around her, concentrated hard and tried to make the feeling go away. As she shifted she became aware of the small puffs of warm air that were blowing rhythmically across her face, and as she opened her eyes she saw, clearly outlined in the dim morning light, the man in bed with her.

Or rather, the man whose bed she was in.

A few seconds of panic gave way to the memory of the previous night and William asking her to stay with him. Or was it Spike? She still wasn't sure who she'd been talking to. And she certainly hadn't meant to fall asleep.

He was holding her loosely, a hand resting on her waist, his face relaxed, his hair a mess of curls, and he looked utterly content. Like a man who hadn't a care in the world. She moved, and he moved with her, murmuring under his breath, his arm tightening a fraction.

She kept herself very still as he made himself comfortable against her. A small smile crept across his face as his breathing evened out once more, and she knew she should be sliding out of the bed, going to the bathroom, then going back to her own room. Not lying here happily cuddled up with a man she hardly knew.

Perhaps it was just the rainy, blustery morning that made her so reluctant to leave? William accounted for most of the body heat, so instead of waking up shivery and cold as she might have done at this time of the year, she was snug and warm and felt as if she could have stayed there all day.

One of the simple pleasures of finding that special person in life. Waking up next to them, warming your feet on them when you were cold, making plans as snuggled together in the dark. It was all starting to sound very appealing as she lay there, and she wondered if she'd ever find that elusive Mr. Right, but then William twitched again and she knew it was time to go. He'd probably have a major coronary if he woke up and found her in bed with him so she carefully moved his arm and manoeuvred herself from under it.

Then it didn't seem worth going back to sleep, so after her bathroom visit she put on her painting clothes and went down to her studio. There was a new portrait to start and more photographs to develop and she knew she ought to do one or the other, but instead she found herself taking out the sketch she'd made of William on the day her mother had lost the case. It didn't look anything like the more recent one she'd done from the study window, but strangely enough, she could still see him in both of them. Pinning them up on a board, she took a long hard look, transposing the images one onto the other with her eye. The real William was in there somewhere, she just needed to look a little deeper. Paintbrush in hand she closed her eyes, opened them and started to paint.

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William woke up smelling of flowers, their scent all around him. At first he thought it was just the roses, but this was a light, elusive kind of smell, not heavy and musky, like the faded blooms in the vase on the chest. Probably the fabric softener, he thought, sitting up and having a good stretch. The rain seemed to have eased off. Which was good. He wondered if Buffy had a digital camera so that they could start on some location shots for the website. Couldn't sit around doing nothing, he was here to work, not sponge off the kindness of others.

He wanted to work. Wanted to feel what it was like to produce something he was proud of again. And, of course, he needed the money, although he was already thinking that it wouldn't seem right to charge Buffy anything for this since she was being so hospitable and kind. In fact he was starting to wonder whether he ought to offer to contribute to the household expenses. He shouldn't expect Buffy pay for everything.

A quick check of his billfold told him he was running short of cash and there was the small matter of laundry, since he hadn't brought many changes of clothes with him, so he dressed with the sense of purpose that having a 'to do list' gives a person and went downstairs to find Buffy. She was sitting at the kitchen table wearing a paint covered shirt and eating toast.

It seemed like an intrusion of her personal space to walk into the kitchen without an invitation so he stood in the doorway until she noticed him.

"William." She jumped visibly, almost choking on the mouthful she'd been chewing. "Goodness, you made me jump," she said, her hand on her heart. "Come in, have some breakfast."

He walked over and sat on the bench opposite her. "Seems we do that a lot."

She looked at him blankly.

"Make each other jump,"

"Oh. we do, don't we. Coffee?"

He got up, but so did she. "Sit down William, I'll get it, you take it black, don't you?"

"Black, no sugar," he said, picking up a piece of toast. "Am I eating your breakfast here?"

"No, finish it, I've had enough."

"Thanks." Did you sleep well?"

She stopped in mid pour. "Why would you want to know that?"

"Uhh, no reason," he said, picking up another slice of toast and then noticing that he had one in each hand. "Thought maybe I might have disturbed you with my sleepwalking again."

"No, I went out like a light and slept all night."

"That's good," he said. "I see it's stopped raining."

"Yeah." She passed him his coffee and sat down again. "Xander will be able to finish the weatherboarding. So much to do before the open house day."

"Do you open it every year?"

"Twice actually, once at the beginning of the season and once at the end. And you're going to look great dressed as a Victorian Gentleman."

"Me, dressing up?"

"Yes, everyone's helping, you'll enjoy it, really you will. Come on, say you'll do it."

"I'd feel a right prat. Will there be many people?"

"You'll be fine, William, and yes, we usually get a big crowd, is that going to bother you?"

"I guess not," he said trying to visualise himself dressed in a costume from a bye-gone age.

"You'll get to meet the whole gang, they'll all be here. And I've asked Anya not to tell anyone what she knows about you. And we need all the help we can get."

He didn't want to do it, but he couldn't refuse her when she'd been so kind to him, or when she looked at him the way she was now. Head tilted, eyes wide, she'd only have to bat her eye-lashes to complete the picture.

"Yeah, I'll do it,"

"You'll have a great time, really and in the evening we can stay in costume and you can help me dish out the Halloween candy when all the kids come knocking. Oh, and we'll need to take some photos of ourselves all dressed up, and put them into a couple of frames. People love details like that."

Again a picture flashed into his mind. Buffy sitting in a chair her skirts spread around her, him standing behind her looking stern, his hand on her shoulder. One to show his gran next time he saw her, she'd love that.

"I suppose every thing goes really quiet after Halloween."

"Couple of the clubs stay open, but most of the seafront shuts down at the end of October. Everything goes pretty dead."

"I love resorts in winter," he said, "after all the tourists have gone. Stormy seas, windswept deserted beaches."

"So do I, next time it blows up a storm, come and stand on top of the cliff with me," she said. "It's amazing. Feels like you're going to blow right off the edge."

"Just as long as you don't ask me to jump off."

She laughed at that. "You're coming skydiving with me one day."

"I'm bloody well not."

"Yes you are, one day you'll ask me to take you."

"Not a chance in hell."

"Wanna bet?"

"How much?"

She just smiled at that and the need to make polite conversation diminished. William ate the rest of the toast and when the plate was empty she jumped up again to make some more.

"I didn't mean to eat it all," he said, feeling guilty.

"Eat as much as you like," she replied cheerfully as she popped two more slices of bread into the toaster. "Mom says I have to fatten you up."

"That bad, eh?" He pulled a face and looked down at himself. "Need to start getting in shape, I think."

"Then come for a run with me."

"Didn't pack any gear. Buffy, where's the nearest ATM machine? I need to get some cash. Want to give you something for all this food and stuff, and I think I need to buy some clothes."

"I'll help you with that," she said. "Don't buy too many though, because if you do gain weight they won't fit you any more."

"Only a woman would think of that," he replied.

"Then it's a good thing you've got me around, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

The feeling he put into the word made her pause momentarily as she scraped the spread onto the toast.

"You don't have to give me any money."

"I'd like to though."

"I know," she said. "But you're working here so," she thought for a moment. "Free food, part of the deal."

"Thanks, you're a bloody amazing woman Buffy Summers." The words were out before he could stop them. Before he had time to remind himself that it was too soon to be saying things like that to her, he felt the heat rising in his face, but he managed to hold her gaze as she handed him the fresh plate of toast.

"Why thank you, my lord. What a bloody nice thing to say." She mimicked a perfect English accent as she went down into a deep curtsey in front of him, her arms held out as if she already wearing the long dress.

It made him laugh out loud and she joined in, looking pleased at having diffused his embarrassment.

"I meant it," he said feeling an unaccustomed burst of confidence, and then she quite suddenly leaned towards him.

Even though he'd felt a little awkward when he'd first come into the kitchen, they'd fallen into an easy camaraderie over breakfast and because he was feeling so relaxed the gesture caught him off-guard. He was about to quite spontaneously turn his cheek to her as she moved because, for some strange reason, he thought she was going to kiss him. Instead, her finger came up and wiped something off the corner of his mouth.

"You are such a messy eater," she announced as she flicked off the spot of toast.

Breathing is usually something you don't have to think about. It happens, like your heartbeat, quite automatically and the only time you notice it is when suddenly you can't do it. William's heart had tripped up as she moved in towards him, then it raced off in a frenzy of anticipation as the suggestion of what she was going to do popped into his mind. He didn't remember to breathe until after she'd started wiping his mouth clean, and he realised that she wasn't going to kiss him after all.

And why should she have?

Because, as she'd moved into his space, his body had remembered something that his mind had forgotten. Something that made the kissing thought a more logical one than just wishful thinking. A light flowery perfume filled his nostrils as her pulse point hovered near to his face and a heavy warmth filled him as his body responded, just as it had done last night, when he'd half woken up and found a woman in bed with him.

Found this woman in bed with him.

The memory flooded through him as the scent of flowers washed over him. And his heart, which had started to slow down, took off again in a series of erratic, staccato bursts. He grabbed her hand, more to ground himself than anything as the panic attack took hold, and breathing became a real issue, and he thought about the last time a woman had left his bed in the middle of the night, leaving him to wake up alone.

Neither of them noticed the crack of breaking crockery as the plate he'd been holding hit the kitchen floor and smashed.

History had a horrible way of repeating itself, particularly when you were least expecting it and Buffy had jumped at the sight of him this morning. And a train of thought fuelled by strong emotion will go out of control before you can pull on the brake.

Someone was in front of him, saying something he couldn't understand, because he wasn't there any more. He was already back in prison, the metal door clanging shut behind him, and this time, he knew they were never going to let him out.

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You think you know humiliation? Think you know the definition? What it entails? Try having every detail of your sex life picked over by strangers, in public. Brings a whole new meaning to the word.

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"William?" Buffy crouched in front of him and tried to make eye contact. He was holding her hand so hard that it hurt. She took the other one too. "William, just breathe, okay? You're going to be alright. Can you hear me?"

He nodded his head, sucking in desperate breaths as he fought to get himself under control. She simply held on to him because there was nothing else she could do, standing eventually and putting her arms around him.

"Just hold on," she told him. "I said I'd be here, and I am. Just hold on."

He nodded again, his head against her chest and then the back door opened and Xander appeared. He looked shocked and tried to back out again, obviously misinterpreting what was happening.

"Whoa, sorry Buff, didn't mean to barge in." Then he stopped and took a good look. "You alright?" He crossed the kitchen and crouched down beside her. "What's up with him?"

Buffy shook her head vigorously, out of sight of William. "Not now," she mouthed silently. "Just leave us alone, please."

Xander was either being terminally stupid or more likely he didn't want to leave Buffy alone with William while he was in such a state. Either way, he didn't move.

"It's a panic attack, Xand," she whispered when he didn't seem to be taking the hint. "You'll only make it worse if you stand there."

She could feel William slowly calming and bringing himself under control. Xander was still staring at them both, open mouthed.

"Go," she said flapping her hand at him. "I'll catch you later."

"Just call me if you need me, I'll be on the roof," he answered in a stage whisper.

Buffy glared and he backed hastily away and out of the kitchen.

William lifted his head and took one last deep breath. He closed his eyes and let it out slowly, his hands still around her waist.

"God, that was so bloody embarrassing. Xander's going to think I'm a prat and a half."

"Never mind Xander. Is it over?" she asked searching his face.

"Think so." He let out another long breath. "I hate it when that happens. Everything just goes haywire."

"I had one once, not nice."

He tried to get up, but she pushed him down. "Where are you going?"

"Got work to do," he said. Then he noticed the broken plate. "God, sorry about that. I'll buy you a new one." He started to bend down to pick up the pieces but again she pushed him back on to the bench.

"Work can wait. And so can the plate. Just sit quietly for a moment, you look a little pale. Can I get you anything?"

"Double whiskey," he said hopefully. "That usually helps."

"At this time of the morning?" she arched her eyebrows. "William, what do you think triggered the attack?"

He closed his eyes again, so she sat herself beside him and waited. Eventually he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I thought I'd dreamed you were in bed with me last night, but you were there, weren't you?"

"Oh," Buffy said. "You know?"

"Remembered your perfume, that's what triggered the attack. Why don't I remember anything else?"

There was still a very slight tremor in his voice. Buffy looked down at their entwined hands, knowing that honesty was the best and only policy. This was going nowhere unless they were completely open with each other.

"Because nothing happened. You were sleepwalking again and you asked me to stay with you so I got into the bed for a few minutes. Meant to leave when you calmed down, but then I fell asleep too. I'm really sorry, William, I should have known it would freak you out."

"I really thought it was a dream."

"I'm so sorry, should have known. I am so dumb." Buffy leaned back against the table and let out a frustrated sigh. "And I'm so bad at this."

"No you're not," he said. "You're doing great, and I'm bloody hard work. I meant what I said about you."

Buffy frowned, then she remembered what it was. "No I'm not, William. I've messed up more times than you can imagine. Even managed to die once."

He tilted his head and twisted himself round. "Yeah?"

"Slipped and knocked myself out one time when I was cave diving. Fell face first into a pool of water. If Xander hadn't found me and given me CPR, I'd have stayed dead."

"Good for Xander then. Why did you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Stayed dead, like you maybe wanted to?"

"I didn't say that, William."

"If you say so."

"And don't change the subject," she said. "This is about you, not me."

"Okay."

His eyes held a sympathy and understanding that caught her unawares. They were a very clear blue, but not pale and washed out. Darker around the edges and she found herself thinking about the colour she'd used when she painted them earlier in her studio. She gave a small sniffle and groped in the pocket of her jeans for a tissue.

"We'll have to stop doing this."

"What?" His expression turned to one of alarm.

"Scaring each other. You gave me quite a fright just then."

"Now who's changing the subject? C'm'ere."

William's arm slid hesitantly around her back, nothing demanding, a simple gesture of comfort, so she let her head drop onto his chest, understanding that it would help him if he could feel as if he was giving something back instead of always being the receiver.

His heartbeat sounded regular and even, back to normal, so she just sat and listened to it. At some point the back door opened and closed and she was aware that the wind was picking up again. There were always parts that rattled on old houses like this one and Buffy thought of Xander on the roof, hoping that he'd be sensible enough to come down if it got too bad.

And William just seemed to want her to be there with him. She'd never really thought about how something so undemanding could be so profound because she'd always operated from a base of restless energy. Always had her sights on the next goal. If a mountain fell in her path she climbed it, when she got to the ocean, she swam. If something needed doing today, she did it yesterday. And the more dangerous it was, the better.

It was as if some unseen force had decided that she needed to stop for a while and take some time to smell the roses she so carefully arranged for the rooms. To sit and be still and take stock of where her life was going. Perhaps it wasn't coincidence that William had appeared at a time when she'd really needed an anchor to hold her down?

She studied the slender, nicotine - stained fingers of the hand resting on his lap, and felt his bones through his tee shirt as she leaned against his chest. Death wishes came in many forms, you could do it quick, or you could do it slow, but the end result was the same. When life finally made you understand that you weren't going to get the things you needed to make it meaningful, it was too easy to just give up on it.

The night before the cave diving she'd been with Liam. One dance had reduced her to a giggly, star struck sixteen year old again, only this time she'd known exactly what she had to do to keep him. It hadn't worked, of course. Sex in a dark alley is just a lesson in humiliation and regret, as she'd learned to her cost.

Let it go, she told herself sternly as William's grip on her relaxed. There were people in the world with far bigger problems than having picked the wrong man to love.

"Want to come to the supermarket with me?" She figured they'd sat still for long enough. "If we don't go soon we're going to starve to death."

"Cupboard's bare, eh."

"Certainly is." Buffy sat up and rolled her shoulders. "Give me a moment to check on Xander, want to make sure he's not going to fall off the roof. Car's unlocked if you want to get in."

"I'll clean up this mess then I'll go get my jacket." William stood up and waited for her to get up too. "See you at the car then."

"Yeah, won't be a moment."

She took the stairs two at a time, found herself a jacket and pulled back her hair into a ponytail. The door to William's room was open as she passed it and she caught a glimpse of the unmade bed where she'd spent the night with him. Gran would have had a fit if she could see it like that, she thought. Clothes were strewn across the chair, some were on the floor spilling out of the open bag. The comforter was haphazardly thrown back and the pillows were all in a heap. On impulse she went inside and quickly made the bed, which still smelled of her perfume, just as William had. She took one last look around, resisting the temptation to tidy up his clothes, noticing his reading glasses on the bedside table. They'd become so close in just two days, yet she hadn't seen him wearing them yet.

Getting to know someone was like the ebb and flow of the tide, she thought. It happened gradually, each wave embracing the shore just that bit more, then rolling back as if it was only teasing, only to turn back and come that little bit further inland. Each time learning something new.

Sometimes the waves were small, undemanding and gently caressing. Sometimes they sneaked up on you, with their deceptive calm and false promises and silently drowned you. And sometimes they didn't try to be subtle, they weren't interested in your feelings in the matter, they were big and they were loud and they just swept you away in a tide of uncontrollable passion.

Just like life.

Before she left the room she made sure she did stop to smell the roses.

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William was leaning on the side of the car when she went out, finishing off a cigarette.

"Willow and Tara have invited us for lunch," she told him as she unlocked the door.. "Would you like to go?"

"The Witches?"

"Yeah, the Witches. They're really nice though. You're not going to smoke that in the car, are you?"

William dropped the cigarette and crushed it underfoot, then he caught the look she was giving him so he picked it up and flicked it into a flower bed.

She let it go, again thinking that her gran wouldn't be pleased at the state of the usually - immaculate garden. A job for Xander when he was less busy, or perhaps William would spend a day helping her to tidy up? Gardening was supposed to be good therapy.

"Tara does this spooky thing where she just looks at you and tells you what era you belong to."

"What, like past life regression?" William looked alarmed. "Not sure I want to be hypnotised again."

"Again?" Buffy negotiated the gates, turned onto the coast road and then took a left. The supermarket could wait until after lunch. She'd been right about the wind getting up and there was only one place to be when the weather was like this.

"Yeah, got some free therapy when they let me out. Bloody mumbo jumbo. I just told them what they wanted to hear in the end so they'd leave me alone. Hypnotherapy was just one of the things they tried on me. So what era are you then?"

"Me?" She slowed the car as the lights turned red. "I'm Scarlett O'Hara. You know, Gone With The wind."

"Yeah, can see that," he said as he studied her thoughtfully. "Bet you're really fierce when you get going."

"I am," she assured him. "Oh, I'm actually kidnapping you right now, by the way."

William pretended to look horrified, his eyes wide. "So we're not going to the supermarket?"

"Nope, not yet anyway. William, would you mind if I asked you a few questions about what happened to you and about Spike and stuff. I know we haven't known each other very long, it's only a couple of days but somehow it feels longer, don't know why. I'd like to know, if you don't mind, that is."

"Feels like I've been here for weeks."

"Is that a yes?

"What do you want to know?"

Buffy glanced over at him. "Are you sure, William?"

He nodded, "Good a time as any, what can I tell you?"

"Not here, going to show you my special place first."

He settled back into his seat. "Ask me anything, you have a right to know, I'll be straight with you, if you'll be straight with me."

"I don't have anything remotely interesting to tell you."

"Apart from coming back from the dead, you mean?"

"Well, there's that." Buffy turned the car on to the cliff road. "But that's all, nothing else to tell."

William shrugged his shoulders. "Are we going up the cliff?"

"Yes we are. Don't look so worried, it's perfectly safe as long as you keep to the path. Do you mind, what with the dream and all?"

"It's cool. I know it's only a dream." he replied, peering out of the window. "Don't much like heights, though."

"Then I'll hold your hand, I won't let anything happen to you, William. Scarlett O'Hara, remember?"

He didn't answer, just kept looking out of the window and she wondered what else it was he wanted to ask her, now that he knew about the dying part. What else could he possibly want to know? He was the one being rescued, not her.

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William secretly thought it was much too dangerous to be so high on such a blustery day.

"Do you do this a lot?" he asked, having to shout above the roaring of the wind.

"S'great, isn't it? Just let yourself go, give in to it." Buffy stretched her arms wide and twirled around, her pony tail whipping across her face.

After a few more twirls he grabbed her round the waist because he was so worried that she was going to twirl right off the edge.

"Stop that, you're making me nervous."

"Okay." She let him hold her as she got her breath back, head tipped back, a devilish look on her face as she caught the mood of the wind. Then he felt her hand slipping across the front of his jeans.

"Umm," he dropped her and took a step back. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." She gave him a sweet smile and batted her eyelashes. "Come on, walk with me," she said as she crooked her arm, so he linked with her, mainly because he wanted to keep hold of her so that she couldn't do any more of the twirling. She walked them to a small outcropping of rocks and sat down.

"This is it, sit down and look at the view with me. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Pretty spectacular." He dropped beside her and squinted at the lighthouse he'd never noticed before, on the far side of the bay. "You're very lucky, you know."

"Why?" She picked a wildflower and twirled it between her fingers.

"To live here. Most people would give anything to have a life like yours."

"You don't know what my life's like, William." She threw the flower towards the sea, but the wind brought it back again.

"Looks pretty good from the outside."

"I suppose it is," she said tucking the flower into her hair. . "Trouble is we all want stuff we can't have, even if we seem to have everything. There's always that one thing extra you need to make your life perfect."

"Or person."

"Yeah, or person. Did you have many girlfriends, William, before prison?"

He lay back nestling his head into a clump of grasses, figuring that he might as well be comfortable for this inevitable questioning. It was the strangest sensation looking up at the clouds racing across the sky. Made him feel like he was moving right along with them. He relaxed and tried to imagine that he was. His jacket filled up as the wind whipped inside, adding to the sensation. Then he sat up with a start.

"Buffy, what are you doing?" Her hand was on the front of his jeans again and before he could stop her she'd slipped it into his pocket and stolen the contents.

"Hey." He lunged for her, but she was up and off. He scrambled up after her, caught her after a few strides and grabbed the hand holding the cigarettes with both of his.

"Give back," he ordered trying to pry her fingers open, but she wasn't about to. She twisted with a giggle and sidestepped him. He ended up holding thin air as she legged it towards the cliff edge.

"Don't you dare," he shouted as she stood with her hand held high, taunting him with the cigarette packet.

"You want them, you're gonna have to come and get them," she cried back.

By the time he caught her again they were both breathless. Wrapping both arms around her, he lifted her high off the ground so she couldn't run away. Unfortunately that meant he didn't have a hand free to take back his cigarettes. She grinned mischievously down at him, her cheeks glowing, her eyes sparkling and then with a flick of her wrist the cigarettes went sailing over the cliff edge.

They both stared open mouthed at what she'd just done.

"I can't believe you just did that."

"Neither can I," she said looking down at him.

She didn't look very repentant but it was nice to see her smiling so easily after their earlier encounter at the house. He knew she felt responsible for his panic attack.

"I'll just buy more," he told her as he lowered her to the ground.

"I'll find them." She smoothed down her jacket and tightened the scrunchie holding her hair which had come loose during their tussle.

"Then I'll just buy more." He stuck his tongue out at her. "You're a madwoman."

"Ain't that the truth. Come on, you're not really that mad at me, are you?"

"Damned well am, do you know how much cigarettes cost?"

"No, and I'm not about to find out. Besides, I thought you said you were broke."

"I can't give up just like that." He looked plaintively at the cliff edge almost as if he expected the cigarettes to reappear of their own accord. And of course, now that he couldn't have one, he really, really wanted one.

"You've gone all red and blotchy," he told her with a smirk.

Her hands went to her cheeks, patting at them as if she could feel what he was talking about.

"So have you, it suits you. And you didn't answer my question."

"Yeah, well, kind of got distracted."

"The one about girlfriends. Did you have many?"

They walked back to the shelter of the rocks and sat down again. William felt his own cheeks wondering if they were as red as hers. It had only lasted a few minutes but it was the best fun he'd had for as long as he could remember. Pure breathless exhilaration.

"Any roller coasters near here?"

"Couple of resorts down, think they've got one, you wanna go?"

"Got this sudden urge to go ride a roller coaster. No idea why, just popped into my head." He lay down again using the grass pillow he'd made earlier. Buffy stretched out beside him and he knew it was time for the serious talk. He owed her that, since she'd been so kind to him, no matter how hard he was going to find it. He wasn't sure she was going to like what she heard though.

"I've had two serious girlfriends. They both broke my heart. You?"

"I haven't had any girlfriends, William."

He poked her in the ribs. "You know what I mean."

"Ow! Okay, I've had one serious boyfriend, he broke my heart, blady blady blah blah, and no-one of importance since."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, maybe I'm just too fussy. Scarlett O'Hara, remember."

"She spent her whole life carrying a torch for that one person she couldn't have."

"I'm not carrying any torches, William." Her arms went high in the air. "Look, no torches."

He turned to her. She wasn't a very good liar.

"So, who was he? Liam Angelus?" It was the only boyfriend he knew of hers and that was the only reason he said the name. He wasn't prepared for her reaction to it.

She sat up abruptly and turned away. "Who told you about him?"

Wrong, wrong, wrong, he thought, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. Too personal, and none of his damned business. They were here talk about him, not her.

"I'm sorry," he said sitting up. He reached a hand towards her shoulder but dropped it without touching her. "Shouldn't have said it."

She sat still for a short while then she sighed and turned back to him. "Its alright William, it was a long time ago and I was only sixteen. Very impressionable age, sixteen. Did mom tell you?"

"In the car on the way down." He waited for her to get comfortable again before lying down himself. Clouds were gathering in force now, rain threatening and he hadn't really told her anything yet. "Reckon it's your turn now, to ask a question."

"Can I ask more than one?" she said as she stared at the sky. "It's going to rain again."

"Looks like it, yeah, ask away."

"Before I start, I've got to tell you something, and you're probably going to get mad."

"Why should I get mad with you?"

"Because I already know the answer to a lot of the questions."

"Is that so? How?"

"Mom left your file behind, and I read it."

"Oh." He pulled the head off the flower he was holding, unable to disguise his disappointment. "I, I would have told you myself."

"I'm sorry." Her voice was very small. "I wasn't going to tell you, but it didn't seem right not to. I think we should be honest with each other."

"Always the best policy," he said in a flat, unemotional voice.

"William, say you forgive me."

"I forgive you."

"No, say it like you mean it."

"No problem."

"William?"

He heard the slight catch in her voice and clenched his jaw. Could he be a bigger prat?

A picture of Buffy sitting opposite him in Hogeys flashed into his mind, followed rapidly by her holding his hand, sitting on the wall, holding him while they looked at the moon and gleefully throwing his cigarettes over the cliff edge. She'd reached out and given him a connection back to the real world, had started to make him feel things he'd despaired of ever feeling again. And here he was sticking his lip out like a petulant two year old because she'd turned out to be only human after all. Hell, if he'd found the file he probably would have looked, anyone would have.

"Tell me you're not mad with me."

Her voice had all but disappeared and when he finally looked at her she was sitting again with her knees drawn up, her face turned away from him. Nice one, William. You did that. Five minutes ago she was running around like a wild thing and now look at her.

"Buffy," he began, "there's nothing to forgive, I would have done the same if I'd found the file. Talking about all this stuff, just gets me emotional I guess."

"We don't have to," she said turning back to him. "I don't want to rake up bad memories for you."

"No, I've got to talk about it sometime, it happened to me, can't take that away. Just when you mentioned the file kind of bought it all back in a rush. Go on, tell me what you found out, and I'll fill in the gaps."

"Thanks, William. The name Spike, is what you were known as in prison?"

"After a while, yes. William was just too bloody ashamed to be there so I told everyone I was called Spike. Made it easier to do the things I had to in order to survive it."

"And is William back now?"

"I'll never be the same person I was before it all. I've tried to bury him, but Spike's always going to be a part of me. Guess he was there all along, just took a certain set of circumstances to bring him out."

"That figures, I suppose."

"I'm not very proud of him."

"Tell me about your injury."

"What do you know about it?"

"Not a lot," she said. "Just a few brief notes that mom wrote. The medical file wasn't there. Why did he do it, the man that cut you?"

"Just didn't like my face, don't need a better excuse than that. You go a special kind of crazy in prison." He shaded his eyes and stared hard at the sky, blurring his focus so that all the clouds melted into one. It made it easier to talk if he couldn't see the real world around him.

"It said you did the smaller ones yourself. Why, William?"

"Because this bloke, he took a dislike to me. Started putting it around that he was going to cut me up. Liked to tell me himself, how he was going to do it, how much it was going to hurt. Everyone knew it was going to happen and there's me pissing myself with fright at the thought of it, so I got myself a knife, thinking I'd give him a run for his money."

"Where do you get a knife from, in prison?"

"Wasn't exactly a knife, you can sharpen just about anything on a concrete floor. Was just going to use it to defend myself, but he was a big bugger, I knew I didn't stand a chance in hell against him. Knew it was coming."

"You cut yourself so that you could feel what it was going to be like?"

"Yeah, I did. Told you I was crazy."

"No, it sort of makes sense, in an odd sort of way. I can't imagine having to live with that kind of fear."

"Trouble was, I kept forgetting what the pain was like so I'd have to do it again to remind myself."

"Didn't anyone care? Couldn't you have told the prison guards?"

"The only people who see you in prison are those who don't give a shit, Buffy. He got me eventually. Took him with me to the hospital though. He won't be fathering any children any time ever."

"Good."

She said it with such vehemence that it made him laugh. "You wanted to see it," he said starting to pull his tee shirt out of his jeans.

She stopped him. "That's exactly what you said last night. You showed it to me then, don't you remember? You seem to want to be Spike at night, for some reason."

William tucked his tee shirt back in and sat up. "Does it bother you, my sleepwalking?"

"No, it doesn't. I wouldn't have stayed with you if it did."

"Guess not." He wasn't sure where to take the conversation next so he stood up and held out his hand to her. "We ought to be going, it's nearly lunchtime. Weren't we supposed to be at the Witches round about now?

"Oh no, Willow and Tara, I completely forgot." She let him haul her up, pulled the flower from her hair and wiped away a few stray grasses that clung to her jacket. "This was so the wrong time to be having this conversation. They have this knack of reading people, emotions, that sort of thing. They are so going to know what we've been talking about. Think happy thoughts, quick.

"Like what?"

"Tell me a joke, something funny, come on, you must know a joke."

"Can't think of one, Scarlett."

"Something funny then."

"What, like my life?"

"Be serious."

"I thought you wanted me to be funny."

"I know, penguins," she said turning to him. "They're funny."

"Only mildly," he replied with a straight face, "and not at all when they're being fed to lions."

"What?"

"Some kids broke into Edinburgh Zoo one night and fed a couple of penguins to the lions."

"That's terrible."

"I know, shouldn't have told you.

"Hasn't exactly helped."

They got back to the car and managed the whole of the journey without thinking of one single funny story. Buffy was almost in tears over the penguin incident when they arrived at the Crystal Shop, and William had spent the whole time thinking about how much better he felt for having talked about things he'd kept hidden for so long.

Stepping from the car, he leaned his folded arms on the roof while he waited for Buffy to fix her make up. She still looked a little red-eyed when she got out.

"Don't ever tell me sad stories about penguins again," she warned him as she rang the bell. "I can't stop thinking about it now."

Definitely time to get her back for the cigarettes, he thought, a grin forming on his face. He leaned very close. "Then I won't tell you about the one they fed to the crocodile."

The only satisfaction he got was a whispered 'eep,' and then the door opened to reveal the two ladies from the erotic photograph that Buffy had shown him in her studio. And that was possibly the worse thing he could have thought about. His cheeks started to flame as the picture transposed itself onto the ladies in front of him.

They looked from Buffy to him and then to each other.

"Told you so," the taller, blonder one said to the slightly shorter, redheaded one.

"You're always right sweetie," the redhead replied.

Then there was a flurry of embracing and cheek kissing in which he was fully included even thought he'd never met them before. The only person he didn't get to kiss was Buffy who was still looking rather downhearted. Part of him felt mean for teasing her, but another part of him was happy to see a glimpse of his old self.

And amongst all the angst of the panic attack and his revelations on the cliff had been the sheer joy of the interlude that had concluded with him losing his cigarettes. A gem of a moment when the two of them had completely let themselves go and just experienced being who they were right then. He was grateful and relieved to find that he could still enjoy himself and that he'd found someone who'd taught him that.

He may have only known her for two days, but he was already sure of one thing. Buffy Summers was one hell of a woman.

tbc...

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AN. A passing bell is the bell they used to ring to ring from churches when a person was near death. It was supposed to confuse evil spirits as they passed over.

Chapter 7

In prison no one's interested in what you have to say, or how you feel about things. So after a while you just stop talking and you just go kind of numb.

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It came as no surprise to anyone but William that Tara immediately pegged him as a late Victorian Gentleman in keeping with Buffy's plans for him at the open day. He flatly, but good humouredly, refused to model any of the costumes they showed him, and after lunch Willow dragged him off to show him around the shop, while Buffy and Tara washed the dishes.

"Buffy," Tara said as they waited for the sink to fill. "Word is that William's been in prison."

"Oh no, who told you? Was it Anya? I did asked her not to tell anyone." Buffy squirted a generous amount of dishwashing liquid into the sink, wishing it was Anya's neck she was squeezing. And wishing desperately that she'd never told Cordelia in the first place. "He really doesn't want anyone to know."

"It wasn't Anya, it was Cordelia, she was in on Friday. Said you were really upset about having him stay."

"Well, I was, but that was before I met him. She did tell you he was falsely accused, right?"

Tara raised her hands. "Calm down, Buffy. There's a lot of trauma there, but I can see he'd never hurt you. I like him."

"Damn, this is turning into the worse kept secret in history." Buffy dunked her hand into the water and gave it a good stir, watching as the bubbles threatened to spill over the edge of the sink. "I mean, how could anyone think he'd ever do that? You only have to look at him to see he's a real sweetheart. And he's trying really hard to get his life back together. I shouldn't have told her, it's all my fault."

"You didn't know, Buffy. Nothing's going to be gained by blaming yourself."

"But it is my fault," Buffy said, turning to face her. "I did what everyone else is going to do, pre-judged him before I'd even met him. He might as well go back to his basement apartment right now for all the good I'm doing him."

The water overflowed, but Buffy didn't notice until she felt the warm suds lapping against her back. She hastily let some of the water out of the sink as Tara stood and watched, her face its usual picture of serenity.

Buffy wasn't so much worried about the two of them knowing William's secret, they of all people could be trusted to handle it with care. It was more the implication that it now seemed to be general knowledge that was so upsetting. And she'd have to tell William that.

"If I feel this bad about people knowing," Buffy said, picking up a plate and scraping the leftover food into the bin, "then how's he going to feel?"

"He's strong, and he has strength all around him," Tara said. "He's survived the worst of it, and with you by his side he'll make it through. Here, wash the glasses first."

"But he won't always have me Tara. Sooner or later he's going to have to go back to his life, and what's going to happen then? Can you see that?"

"The future's not set, Buffy. It's just the result of the choices we make."

"Yeah, I can see that," Buffy said, holding the glass up to the light to see if it was clean, then handing it to Tara to dry. "We reap what we sow, right?"

Tara smiled enigmatically. "Don't rush things, Buffy. There's a time and place for everything. Trust your instincts, and when the moment comes, don't question it, just go for it. It will be the right thing to do."

"That's easy for you to say," Buffy replied, well used to Tara going off on tangents in conversations. And to her facial expressions that always seemed to hint that she knew a lot more than she was telling. "But when the hell is Mr. Right going to show up? That's what you mean, isn't it?" She stopped, dishrag in hand. "After that fiasco with Liam I don't think I can trust my judgement any more."

Tara was still smiling. Buffy wondered if anything ever upset her.

"You'll know, believe me. It'll be unexpected, but when it happens it will be the only thing you could ever have done. You won't have to question it."

"Gee, that's made me feel a lot better," Buffy said, dunking another glass in the water. "So, I'll just look up one day, and there he'll be with a glowy halo all around him and angelic choirs and bells?"

"Pretty much. Just trust your heart Buffy. Sometimes we don't see what's right under our noses."

"Wow, two clichés in a row. Nice one. I think I should go check on William."

"He'll be fine with Willow. Buffy, there's something else you need to know. It's about Liam."

"Liam?" "Why should anything he does interest me in the slightest?" Buffy pulled a face as she inspected the stack of dirty dishes. "You really should get a dishwasher, you know."

"But washing your own dishes is so grounding, don't you agree?"

"Not really, no. So, what's this about Liam?"

"Thought you weren't interested."

"Okay, so I lied. I am, in fact, insanely curious about every minute detail of Liam's existence. So spill."

"I know," Tara replied, seriously. "That's why I wanted to tell you that he's going out with Cordy."

"Oh." Buffy eyed the stack of plates, grabbed the top one and attacked it with a pan scourer. Keeping her voice carefully neutral, she said. "Saw her last week and she didn't mention it."

"She's been worried about telling you, I know that much."

"Why? And why does everyone seem to think I'm still in love with Liam? Why should I care who he goes out with?"

All Buffy got in answer was a pat on the shoulder. They washed the rest of the dishes in a silence broken only by Tara's humming and the clink of plates. Buffy repeated to herself over and over that Liam could go jump in a lake of molten lava for all she cared, and that he could take Cordelia with him. At least now she knew why Cordy hadn't been available for any of their girl's nights in lately.

William and Willow appeared just as they were finishing up.

"William thinks we should put the shop on the internet. Says he'll help me design a site for it, and in return I'm going to give him some Reiki healing."

"Really? That's a great idea," Tara replied. "Shall I play for us?"

"Oh, do, " Buffy glanced at William to make sure he was okay with staying. He gave her a brief nod, she returned a smile. "You're gonna love this. Tara's bringing her harp to the open house day, aren't you Tara?"

"Harp?" William said, cocking his head. "Aren't there any ordinary women in this town?"

"There's no such thing as an ordinary woman," Willow said with a wink. "Why don't you and Buffy sit over there and I'll make us some herb tea?"

"You've got that right," William muttered more to himself than anyone as he sat down.

Buffy sank down next to him, pleased at how relaxed he was looking. It was always difficult meeting new people and more so for him. She had to admit to being surprised at him offering to help Willow, though. And, unexpectedly, a little jealous. She squashed the feeling, telling herself that this was her job, to help him integrate back into the world. And the sooner he did, the better it would be for him. He needed to get back to his life and get on with it.

Tara started playing and the soothing music washed over them. William lay back on the sofa, his thigh resting against hers. At some point Willow brought them tea and Buffy drank it, but she didn't know what flavour it was because her mind was only occupied with one thought. A thought so huge that it blocked out almost everything else. Her whole vision was filled with a billboard on which were emblazoned the words Liam and Cordy in big gold letters.

She didn't care, she told herself. She didn't even like him any more, so why was this affecting her so much? All she knew was that she'd wanted him desperately and despite her giving him everything she had to give, it still wasn't enough to make him want her back. And Cordy, how could she? Buffy slumped further and further back into the sofa as she thought about it, until she was aware of William's hand on her shoulder.

"Buffy, it's almost three o' clock. Do you think we ought to go do that shopping?"

She looked around, and noticed that the music had stopped. "Goodness, is that the time?" she said, pushing back her hair and allowing William to pull her up. "Where did Willow and Tara go?"

"To open up the shop. Thought you'd gone to sleep."

"No," Buffy said, still a little dazed from her zone out. "I was just thinking about something Tara said. You're right, we need to go. Coats?"

"Here." William handed her jacket over, then shrugged into his. "Buffy, what's Reiki?" he asked. "Willow seemed very keen on doing it, didn't like to say no."

"It's a kind of hands on healing. You'll like it, and she's very good at it. We ought to go say goodbye."

"Will I have to take my shirt off?"

"No, I don't think so. Don't do it if you don't want to. She won't be offended if you say no."

"I'll think about it."

"William, I need to tell you something, they know about you being in prison, Cordy told them."

He tried to mask it, but she caught the brief look of pain that flashed across his face.

"Was daft to think it would go any other way," he said, with a resigned shrug. "Come on, let's go say thank you for the, what was it again?"

"Lentil bake. Tara's speciality."

"Right. Oh and Buffy, would you tell Willow thanks for the offer, but I'm not into all this new age stuff. Think I'll give the Reiki a miss."

"Are you sure? William, they'll be the last people in this town to judge you."

"Yeah, but tell her I appreciate the offer. And Buffy, it's inevitable that people will know. Just something I'm going to have to deal with."

She stood very close to him as they waved their goodbyes, trying to let him know without words that she was there for him. He'd taken the news about the townsfolk knowing fairly well. But that was just on the outside. God only knew what he was feeling on the inside.

They all hugged again, but as they were leaving Tara suddenly remembered she had a costume in progress to show Buffy, and called her back.

"Catch."

Buffy tossed the keys to William who went out to wait for her in the car, then she joined Tara in the sewing room.

"Buffy," Tara said when they were alone. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. It's upset you, me telling you about Liam and Cordy, hasn't it?"

"Of course it hasn't." Buffy turned to inspect the costume. She ran her fingers over the soft velvet, watching as it shimmered in the light. "This is lovely Tara, exactly what I wanted."

"I didn't bring you here to show you that. Look at me Buffy. You've got to let it go, you know that, don't you?"

"Then why can't I? I know all this, but it just won't go away. Why, Tara?"

Tara took Buffy's hand and turned it over, palm upwards. Buffy started to pull away but Tara held on.

"No, let me look," she said tracing a finger along the fine lines. "There's a lot going on in your life right now, sweetie, let me help you."

Buffy felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickling, as Tara inspected her hand. She'd never liked having her fortune told and Tara could be uncannily accurate in her readings.

"What can you see?" she asked, not sure that she wanted to hear the answer.

"A lot of clutter. A door closing, another opening."

Buffy peered down at her hand. "I don't see any doors, or any clutter. What's that supposed to mean anyway?"

Tara laughed. "Exactly what I said earlier. Don't you feel it, Buffy? You've reached a crossroads and you have some important decisions to make."

"But aren't we always at a crossroads in our lives over something?" Buffy took back her hand, flexing it several times.

"That's true, but some things only come by once in a lifetime. Just keep your eyes open for the guy with the halo."

"I will, and you'll be the first to know when he appears." Buffy folded Tara into a hug, her palm still tingling from the reading. "Thanks for lunch, and for being so nice to William. I need to go, he's been waiting for me long enough."

"Yes," Tara said hugging her back. "He has."

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It was the thing he'd been dreading to hear, but it hadn't affected him as much as he'd thought it would. So what if people knew? And who cared if they didn't believe him? Buffy and Joyce did, and now so did Tara and Willow, so there was a positive side to it. Their support gave him strength, and it was heart-warming.

Buffy didn't seem as upset over it as he thought she'd be. He'd prepared a speech about how he felt he was going to cope with the news being general knowledge. How he felt it was a relief because carrying secrets of that magnitude was a heavy burden, but instead she seemed to have slipped back into the distracted mood she'd been in back at the crystal shop.

It crossed his mind as he watched her drive, that him teasing her about the penguin might have upset her more than he'd thought, but she'd been fine during dinner. Tara had told her something, apparently, but since Buffy didn't seem about to share, there was nothing he could do about it. Apart from be there for her.

As they browsed the supermarket aisles and discussed mundane things like which coffee brand they preferred, he had a brief moment of panic when he remembered that this would all have to come to an end when he'd finished the website. Most of the work he could do from home anyway and there was no real reason for him to stay on, other than Buffy and Joyce had said he could. But sooner or later he'd have to go back.

Silly things went through his head as they shopped. Who was going to reach things down from the high shelves when he wasn't there to do it for her any more? And how had she managed before he came? Who was going to care whether he had food on his face? Who was going to make sure that she ate anything other than pizza, and who was going to worry about whether he ate anything at all?

He had to smile, because even though he was there, her natural inclination was still to do things for herself.

"Here," he said, reaching over her outstretched hand, as she strained for an elusive bottle of lemonade, "let me."

"Thanks."

"My pleasure," he replied. And he meant it.

She ducked from under his arm and turned her attention to the snacks, while he dropped the bottle into the cart, and then they continued their amiable ramble around the store.

There was a brief debate over the merits of short versus long pasta and its effects on the sauce. Laughter as they remembered to buy fruit and vegetables, as instructed by Joyce, and then a good -natured argument at the checkout over who was going to pay.

Buffy's face was something else when she realised that he'd sneaked off and bought himself more cigarettes. And then the shopping cart mysteriously decided not to go in a straight line any more and Buffy refused to help him steer it because she was pretending to be cross about the cigarettes.

All ordinary everyday things, hardly worth the mention in normal circumstances. Things most people wouldn't give a second glance to.

Unless it was so long since you'd done anything as mundane as a supermarket shop with a good friend that you couldn't remember how much fun simply being ordinary was.

He'd spent so long in an upside-down world, where the bizarre had become commonplace that something as simple as what he was doing now was almost worthy of a letter home.

How the hell do you get people to understand what that meant? Unless you locked them away for two years?

"William?"

Buffy was in front of him, a look of concern on her face. He didn't notice that he was standing in the roadway of the parking lot until a car honked its horn. She took his arm, steered him and the cart out of its way and mouthed an apology to the driver.

"Way to go to get yourself killed," she said. "You just stopped dead in the middle of the road. What were you doing?"

He managed a sheepish smile. "I was thinking about something."

"Well perhaps you should do your thinking somewhere slightly safer. I thought you were having another panic attack."

"No, it wasn't that."

"Come on then," she said searching in her pockets for her keys. "Let's get back, I want to show you my costume collection. I've got the perfect one for you, and I will be forcing you to try it on, so be warned."

Her words washed over him as he helped her to load the car, still feeling embarrassed at nearly having got himself run over. It was time's fault, he decided. Seemed to have forgotten that it was supposed to count out every second of every hour with a regular rhythm without wavering. It wasn't supposed to speed up and slow down. It wasn't supposed to stop dead and leave you frozen in the moment, and then race off so fast that you couldn't keep up with it. Time had gone wonky the day he'd been arrested and it was still doing it.

He wondered if it would ever be normal again.

They made the return journey in silence. Buffy, this time, seemed to realise that he needed to be quiet, and for that he was grateful.

His life for the past two and a half years had either flashed by like a movie played at high speed, in a dull blur of fuzzy images and incomprehensible noise, or suddenly stopped dead, like a snapshot, and the focus had sharpened with an almost painful intensity. There'd been nothing in between until lately, when the two seemed to be blending into something approaching the life he used to know.

The real world was coming back with a rush and it was almost as if it was arriving faster than he could process it. Almost like a sensory overload, right down to the extraordinary normality of a supermarket shop.

For a moment it threatened to overwhelm him again, so he gripped the edge of the seat to stem the rising panic. Once the attacks started they usually came in waves, each one almost being the trigger for the next. After a while he found himself almost having panic attacks at the thought of having a panic attack. Then it wouldn't happen for weeks.

He concentrated grimly on his breathing, eyes closed and then briefly felt Buffy's hand on his arm.

"It's alright," he told her as his heartbeat slowed back to normal. "Think I've got it."

She whispered "Well done," and turned her attention back to driving and when he next opened his eyes he saw that they were nearly back. The house came into view as she pulled the car through the gates, and Xander was standing on the front porch wiping his hands on a rag.

"I'll see to him," Buffy said as if sensing that he didn't want to speak to Xander right now. "Why don't you unpack the car?"

It was a relief being back. Already he'd started to think of this place as a kind of home base, a place of security and as he unpacked the car he reminded himself again that he shouldn't get too attached to things that were only temporary. Gonna miss this place, he thought as he hefted the bags onto the kitchen table and sorted through for stuff that needed to go into the fridge. Buffy joined him just as he was finishing up.

"Didn't know where this lot went." He pointed to the things he'd left out.

"I'll get them," Buffy replied as she picked up the kettle. "Want tea? It's still a bit early to break out the wine. Oh, and Xander's gonna use the hot-tub, Anya's on her way round too, so you'll get to meet her. I have to warn you she's very blunt, so don't be surprised by anything she says."

"Not much surprises me these days, and tea would be great," he replied and sat himself at the kitchen table feeling that there wasn't anything else he could do to be useful. "Buffy, do you mind if I disappear for a few hours? Need to go for a walk."

"Alone?"

"Yeah, do you mind? Been quite a day."

She filled the kettle and set it on the stove, sorted teabags into cups, then she sat at the table opposite him. "I guess it's been quite traumatic, with the panic attack and you telling me all that stuff about prison."

"It was a bit, but it's not that. I kind of expect traumatic things to happen to me. It's the other stuff, the normal, everyday stuff that I'm not used to. Can't remember the last time I went shopping with someone. Or enjoyed it so much."

There, he'd said it. And she hadn't laughed at him. He glanced up to check. Positive feedback, that's what he told himself he was doing. Just letting her know what her kindness meant to him. How it was in the little things that she was showing him that she cared, and that he was worth caring for.

"I suppose after being in prison stuff like that's gotta mean something it didn't before."

"Yeah, it's the small things, you know. You think you're going to miss out on all these life-changing events, but it's not like that at all."

She had a way of fixing her attention on him when he spoke, but not in a way that made him feel too self-conscious. Just gently encouraging as she tipped her head and gazed at him.

"You missed the things most of us take for granted?" she asked.

"Yeah, and it's just hitting me how much today, for some reason."

The kettle started to boil and Buffy jumped to up make the tea. "Do you want me to put your tea in a travel mug? Then you can take it with you."

He shrugged.

"Tell me yes or no," she insisted. "You're allowed to have opinions on things, you know."

Teasing, that's all it was, even if it did make him feel rather embarrassed for being such a wimp. And there were a few more words to add to the Buffy dictionary that he was writing in his mind. Today he'd added beautiful because she was. And not just on the outside. She was thoughtful and kind and cared enough to make an effort for him. And one of these days he was going to put all the words together into a coherent sentence and tell her exactly what she'd done for him.

"I'd like you to do that, thank you." He said it loudly and firmly, almost startling himself with the strength of conviction he managed to get into it. The wink she gave him in return told him that she wasn't being that serious, and also that he'd done well.

"Here." She passed his tea across to him and sat down. "Don't worry about Willow and Tara, they won't tell anyone else."

"Doesn't matter if they do," he replied. "Been thinking that if I can cope with people knowing it's gotta be a good sign, hasn't it?"

"And can you, cope?"

"Don't know yet. Do know that I can't spend my whole life hiding from it."

"That's good, William." She nodded approvingly as she sipped her tea and he almost got up for his walk, but then he remembered how subdued she'd been when they'd left the shop.

"Noticed you were a bit quiet after dinner."

Buffy suddenly seemed to find the Doritos packets on the table terribly interesting. "Why did we buy six of these?"

"We decided we both liked Doritos." He tried again. "Back at the shop, you said you were thinking about something Tara told you."

"Yeah." Buffy put the packet down. "Liam, you know, ex boyfriend from way back. Tara told me he's going out with my best friend, the lovely Cordelia."

"And you care?"

"No, I don't. And that's the weird part. I don't think I even like him any more and yet…"

"You can't understand why he doesn't want you?"

"Something like that."

She looked surprised at his insight, and a little shocked as if she'd inadvertently given away some terrible secret.

"I don't really want to talk about it, if you don't mind." She picked up her tea and stared into it for a while. "Think I'll go join them in the hot tub while you're out. We'll do the costumes when you come back, yeah?"

"Yeah, got to earn my keep. And if you want to talk about the other thing? Well, I'm a good listener."

She'd closed right up at the mention of Liam and he could sympathise up to a point. But he'd got over the break - up of his relationships pretty quickly. He wasn't quite sure how old Buffy was, but it was quite a few years since she'd been sixteen. A long time to carry a torch.

"Yeah," was all he got in reply. She'd said she was going, but she made no move to leave so he stayed where he was just in case. She sat there in front of him, an unusually sad looking Buffy as she contemplated whatever demons this Liam guy conjured for her. He has to be some sort of retard, William thought, or blind not to want her. Or made of stone. Because he had to be to resist those eyes when she looked like that.

"Oh, I nearly forgot," he said, thinking it was time to change the subject. "I brought you a present." He groped in the pocket of his jacket that he'd left on the bench and brought out a brightly coloured paper bag.

"Kind of a thank you," he said as he offered it to her.

There were an agonising few seconds when he thought she wasn't going to take it, so he placed it carefully in front of her on the table and sat back. Her hand hovered over it and he found himself holding his breath as she closed her fingers around it and picked it up.

Another of those moments where time stands still. Where everything depends on what happens next. She looked in the bag and he heard a very soft, "oh."

And when she looked up there were tears in her eyes.

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Buffy sat the tiny, crystal penguin on her palm.

"William," she just about managed. "It's, it's a penguin."

"You noticed? Sort of a sorry too, for teasing you back there."

"I can't remember the last time someone bought me a present."

"About time someone did then. Do you like it?"

"I love it." The words came out very quietly as a lump formed in her throat and she stared at the small, crystal ornament.

He tipped his head to look at her, frowning slightly.

"Something wrong?"

"What? Oh no, nothing's wrong." She looked up at him again and she knew that the tears forming in her eyes were about to spill. Hastily wiping at them with the back of her hand she added, "It's absolutely perfect, thank you William."

"Good."

She heard the relief in the word, saw his shoulders release the tension he'd been holding and knew that this was a moment that she'd never forget. He'd said that the day had been extraordinary because of its normality and now she understood what he meant because she was feeling it too.

The smallest of gestures and a handful of words. Nothing special in themselves, but combine the right gesture with the right words and you could make magic.

She placed the penguin carefully down on the table, got up and walked round to William. He watched her closely as she approached and she knew she wasn't smiling and he was wondering why. It wasn't a time for smiling and she didn't know how to put that into words. All she knew was that smiling would never begin to cover what the gift had meant to her and how it had touched her.

Uncertainty flickered in his eyes as she stood before him feeling as if she was about to make a speech at a wedding.

"You're going to be okay," she told him with more conviction than she'd ever said anything in her life. It wasn't what she'd meant to say, or what he was expecting to hear, from the look on his face. But it was exactly the right thing to say and exactly the thing he needed to hear.

When she finally managed to move towards him she found she wasn't so much holding him as holding on to him. They'd known each other for so short a time it could still be counted in hours, yet they already seemed to understand each other on a level that took most people a lifetime.

"I know," was all he said in response before he stood up and met her halfway in an embrace that had none of the hesitancy of earlier. One hand slid around her waist coming to rest, palm flat, on the small of her back. The other ghosted over her shoulder, his fingers curling lightly around her neck.

He stooped and studied her face momentarily before pulling her in and she felt the weight of his head as it came to rest on hers.

Buffy pressed herself so hard against his chest that her arms trembled. Someone's heart was thumping very loudly but she couldn't work out which one it was and one of them was having trouble breathing, it might have been her.

She wasn't sure what it was that she felt, right then. Relief that he was going to make it out of this whole. Pride that she was the one helping him. And sorrow, because at some point she'd have to let him go. The sooner he was healed, the sooner he'd go back to the world, where he was going to make some lucky girl very happy. Some woman one hell of a husband and kids one hell of a father. While, at the rate she was going, she was probably doomed to sit in this grand old house and grow old all by herself.

The thought sobered her. A lonely future looming ahead was enough to make anyone desperate, and she reminded herself again what her role in all this was. To help him find himself again. She'd accepted that task wholeheartedly and it was only going to cloud and muddle things for him if she started making other demands on him. He was right when he'd called her lucky earlier. Despite what she thought, she was.

They unwrapped slowly, almost with regret, and as if they were both thinking the same thing. Focus on the mission, Buffy thought as his arms slid away. It's about him, not you. She left one hand resting on his forearm as he picked up his tea, making the most of the contact which seemed to have rocketed them to another level in their relationship, yet left them both wondering what to do next.

"I'll go for my walk then?"

"Don't get trapped by the tide," she told him, trying to make herself sound stern. "Comes in pretty fast."

"I won't," he said, staring at her hand on his arm. "Do you have a cell phone I could borrow? In case I get lost."

"A cell phone? Oh yes, it's in my purse."

He continued to stare at her hand.

"Do you want to go and get it then?" he said after a few long moments had passed and still she hadn't moved. "It'll be dark soon."

She looked over to the window and saw that the light was already fading.

"Don't be too long," she whispered before dropping his arm and going to fetch her phone.

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The light faded too quickly for him to go on much of a walk. He still had enough sense left to know that he shouldn't go too far on a strange beach in the darkness that was rapidly descending, so instead, he sat himself down on the sand, leaned against a rock and closed his eyes. It was a struggle not to fall asleep as he listened to the waves pounding the outcrop of rocks, and he might have done if his brain hadn't been busy going over the events of earlier.

More snapshots for his mental album. He still wasn't sure why the gift had made her cry, but he'd never forget her face when she'd looked up at him. Nor that moment when she'd stood in front of him and he'd met her for the first time as an equal.

Opening his eyes, he pulled out his cigarettes and lighter and lit one up. It calmed him down a little, as he sat and contemplated the sea. He glanced at his watch, and wondered how long Xander and Anya were going to be at the house. The day was definitely starting to take a toll on him, he could feel it, and he didn't think he could cope with Anya and her outspokenness at the moment. A long, hot bath was what he needed, or even better, when they'd gone he might go try out the hot tub.

His thoughts strayed back to Buffy as he finished his cigarette. "Don't go there, mate," he told himself even as his body was warming up from the memory of how she'd felt when he'd held her. A perfect fit was all he could think of to describe it. No more awkwardness or hesitation, he'd known exactly where to put his arms and she'd stepped right into them. Almost desperately so.

But Joyce hadn't brought him here so that he could seduce her daughter. She'd said she trusted him with Buffy's life, and she could, without a doubt. And with his past, how the hell was it going to look if anything happened between them? Not good, that was for sure. And it was becoming fairly obvious that she was still on the rebound from Liam.

William stubbed out his cigarette, picked up his mug and made his way back, letting himself back into the garden by jumping over the wall. She'd asked him not to be long but the lights were still on in the cabin, so he skirted round and unlocked the backdoor with the key she'd lent him. Time for a bath, then perhaps they could look at those costumes, and get something to eat, he thought grabbing a bag of Doritos from the table and taking them up with him.

The house was very quiet, the silence broken only by the humming of the fridge and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. It sounded pretty regular, each second lasting the same as the one before, but he knew it lied. Knew that his time here was going to fly by and before too long he'd be sitting in Joyce's, or even Buffy's car, making the journey in reverse back to his basement flat. Back to his so-called life.

Only he'd be a stronger person, better able to cope, Buffy would make sure of that and that's not what he was worried about. What worried him was how he was going to forget all this? How was he going to cope with the inevitable loneliness?

Maybe it was time to go somewhere new? Back to England, perhaps? His parents were bound to have a contact somewhere in the world that would give him a job. Then he could write a new story for himself rather than to keep on trying to edit the old one.

On his way past Buffy's room he remembered her offer of one of her love poetry books, so he knocked softly on the door. When he got no answer he opened it and looked round. It was very similar to his in furnishing and style with surprisingly few personal items spoiling the Victorian ambience. The glass penguin sat on her bedside table next to an old fashioned alarm clock and seeing it both made him glow inside that she should put it so near to where she slept, and also reminded him that he'd completely spent up now, and he'd forgotten to go to the ATM machine at the mall.

A handful of cuddly toys served as bookends for a small wall-hung shelf and even they looked like antiques. He walked across the room and browsed the shelf, hoping that she wouldn't mind him helping himself and then he noticed the folder lying on the dressing table.

It could only be one thing, and he knew he should ignore it. He thought he could and he was already halfway to the door before he resolutely turned back and almost angrily snatched it up. Back in his room he pulled off his boots, put on his glasses, then with shaking hands and a painfully thumping heart, he lay down on the bed, opened it and started to read.

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"Well, I'm very disappointed that William didn't join us," Anya said as she towelled off her hair. "Maybe he's got some horrible deformity that he doesn't want us to see, or bandy legs? Why didn't he come, Buffy?"

"Anya," Xander said, "the guy's just shy, okay. Isn't that right, Buffy?

"He's very shy," Buffy told her. "And please, don't tell anyone he's been in prison. He really doesn't want people to know."

"He wouldn't, would he," Anya said. "Doesn't exactly inspire confidence when you hear someone's been in prison for rape."

"Anya, I did explain he was innocent, you did hear that right?"

"Yes, but people are going to think he's guilty, aren't they? You know smoke and fire and all that."

"That's why you can't tell anyone. Promise me, Anya."

Anya held up her hand, palm forward. "I promise not to tell a soul. But Cordy will probably tell Liam since she's now going out with him. And that must make you feel terrible, Buffy. Your best friend going out with your ex boyfriend?"

Xander grabbed her arm at this point. "Time to go. Thanks for the hot tub, Buffy. Back first thing tomorrow."

Buffy waved them off, still a little dazed by Anya's ramblings. What she'd said was true, though. Cordelia probably would tell Liam, despite being told not to. And why did everyone seem to think she'd mind so much that Liam and Cordelia were now an item? All she wanted to do was forget about it and she seemed to have talked about nothing else all day.

The chill evening air made her shiver as she hurried back to the house, and found the door was locked, so she wasn't sure if William was back. Dry hair, then make supper, she thought. Sandwiches would probably do tonight as Tara's lentil bake could fill you up for a week.

William hadn't called. She checked the messages again, just in case and resisted the temptation to call him to see if he was alright. Grown man, she reminded herself. More than capable of going for a walk and getting back in one piece.

Stripping off her clothes she changed into a pair of sweats and a zip up fleece, dried off her hair and checked for messages again. She should have warned him about the caves. Great place to get cut off by the tide, especially at night. But he'd only been gone an hour and he had said he'd be a couple at least, so no need to panic yet.

The cut facets of the glass penguin glittered in the lamplight. Such a sweet gift, she thought as she gazed at the coloured patterns its tiny shadow made, and one that had taken her breath away. Or maybe it had just caught her at a vulnerable time? Hard to tell.

She knew she shouldn't be looking at photographs of her and Liam together, tonight of all nights, but she did it anyway. Groped into the back of her underwear drawer and brought out the dog-eared snapshot of the two youngsters sitting happily on his porch steps. She inspected it carefully. They did look happy. The trouble was when she mentally superimposed Cordelia's image over hers, Liam still looked just as happy.

Throw it in the trash, she told herself, and she nearly did. Like she nearly did a hundred times over. Only she invariably found herself tucking it back into the drawer, and that's when she noticed the file was missing.

William's voice echoed in her mind, and her heart sank. It was the last thing he should be doing. It was the last thing she should have done too, but she'd read it, hadn't she?

She wasn't sure when he'd taken it, but she did know she ought to get it back. And when she looked along the corridor she saw that the light was on in his room. Her mother was going to murder her for this, she thought as she knocked softly on his door, still hoping that maybe he'd left the light on before he'd gone out for his walk.

There was no answer so she pushed the door open and there he was. Sitting on the bed, one knee bent, the other leg straight. Head tipped back, and staring at the ceiling, his reading glasses hanging carelessly from his fingers as they dangled over the side of the bed. The file was in shreds all around him and all she could think of was how angry Joyce was going to be at having her case-notes ruined.

He turned his head and for a moment she felt like a rabbit caught in headlights of a Mack truck. He looked angry and so much like his Spike persona just then that she almost wondered if he was asleep.

Her heart jumped as he spoke.

"Made a bit of a mess." He didn't sound sorry.

"William?"

She ventured closer, her nerves on edge as he followed her every move. And then she saw that he'd been crying. Tear tracks marked his cheeks along with a dirty streak where he'd rubbed at them.

It was the sight of his tears that made her eyes fill up. How many tears has he shed over this? She wondered. So many that he thought there couldn't possibly be more?

There were always more.

His glasses fell from his fingers so she picked them up, folded them carefully and placed them on the bedside table.

As she sat on the side of the bed she heard a bell ringing somewhere out in the dark night. A distant, mournful sound, like a passing bell reminding you that your life is being marked out in a series of moments that you can never have back.

Each time the bell rings, that sound is gone forever. And no one knows how many times it's going to ring for them. One day you'll listen for it, and all you'll hear is silence.

William blinked and the last unshed tears made their way down his face.

Buffy reached out and caught one on her fingertips. He whispered her name and the bell continued to ring. Marking out the passing of time. Asking what she'd done with her life so far.

Six years of waiting. For what? For Liam to notice her? For him to realise what a mistake he'd made in letting her go?

She'd thought so. But she couldn't have been more wrong.

William's hand crept across the quilt to cover hers as she sat quietly gazing at him, and as he raised his head to look back at her, the lamplight caught his hair and shone through it.

And with a jolt, she remembered Tara's words.

tbc...