Chapter 10

One of the ironies of life.  If I hadn’t gone to prison I wouldn’t have met Joyce, and without Joyce there’d be no Buffy.  I have to ask myself, would I do it all again, knowing this was at the end of it?  That’s a hard one, but I think I’ll know the answer soon.

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It was hard trying to look like a strict Victorian father, when all he wanted to do was grin like the village idiot.  William fell into the armchair in the painting studio, suddenly feeling very drunk, and not just on the wine.  A kiss could be every bit as intoxicating as alcohol.

Especially if it’s your first, he thought.

Of course he’d kissed and been kissed before, although he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember when it might have happened.  Buffy, with that one kiss, had wiped the slate clean of all his other times, and taken him right back to the beginning again. 

And it was just what he needed, he thought, as he tried to focus on her words while she tried to make the camera co-operate.  She seemed to have lost all her powers of co-ordination, and was dissolving into a giggling mess as she tried to fix it onto the tripod.

“Let me do it,” he said getting up.

“No, I’m an expert at this, I can do it.” She made a token protest and batted him away, but he took it from her easily, containing the urge to kiss her as she pouted at him, arms folded. If they started that again these photographs were never going to get taken.

“Nice camera.  Do you have one of those cable thingies?”

“Gran bought it for me just before she died, and yeah, I do, here, use the long one.”  She handed him the cable release, so that they could operate the camera remotely and he fixed it on.

“Right, where do you want me?”  he asked, holding out his arms.

Buffy giggled again.  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

William felt himself heating up as her gaze softened so he moved himself behind the chair, because every time she did look at him like that his body told him in no uncertain terms exactly where it wanted to be.

“This do?” he said and pulled his jacket closed.

Buffy sighted him through the camera.  “Hold still, just got to get this in position.”

When she was done she unwound the cable and sat herself down in front of him, arranging her skirts around her.  “Okay, now put your hand on my shoulder and look stern.”

William did as he was told and composed himself with some difficulty.  Buffy took the first photo then glanced in the mirror that stood to one side of them. 

“God, William what happened to your hair, come here.” She stood up and knelt in the chair, twisting round and pulling him down so that she could finger-comb it back for him.

“Doesn’t stay down for long,” he said, counting the freckles on her nose as she took charge and flattened his hair.  There were precisely four and he had to fight the urge to kiss each one of them.

“That’s better,” she said giving him a coy smile.  “Let’s try that one again.”

She took three shots, but by the third they were both laughing again. 

“Swap places,” she said, standing up and moving behind the chair.  “You sit down and cross your legs, and,” she looked around and picked up a box from a nearby table.  “Have one of these.”

William sat, as requested and took one of the cigars.  “What do you want me to do?”

She was good at this, directing and organising people, and he was happy to go with the flow.  Her cheeks were glowing as she scurried round, loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt. His breath hitched in his throat.

He did kiss her then, because he couldn’t help it. Every time she touched him it seemed to add to the promise her kisses had made earlier, on the porch swing.

It hadn’t just felt like a first kiss.  It had felt like the first kiss that had ever counted for anything.  The first kiss that had ever promised him anything other than physical satisfaction.  And although it had turned him on, he hadn’t immediately wanted to rush upstairs with her.  Instead, he’d just been happy to listen to the message in her soft caress, and let her know that he’d heard it.

This was already too important to rush, and if they were going to do this, then he wanted to go through every small stage along the way. Visit all the bases in the right order.  Court her like a real gentleman would, and in doing so, erase all the horrendous memories. Replace them with new ones, where this time, he would get it right, and where there would be a happy ending.

She took a moment to kiss him back, but let him take the lead and skipped away when he broke contact.

"Right," she commanded from behind the camera, sounding every bit like a director on a movie set. "Hold it just like that." Then she grabbed a small cut glass tumbler from her props table. "Hold the glass and dangle the cigar from your fingers," she said. "Going for decadence here. Now uncross your legs, open them and tilt your head back."

William's foggy brain was having a hard time keeping up with her sudden burst of hyperactivity. She was messing with his hair again, ruffling it with her fingers and making it stand up in a series of spikes and curls.

He rubbed his head against her hand as she worked, loving the attention of another human being as much as the sexy feel of her fingers grazing his scalp. A loving touch. It was so easy to forget what it felt like, but it was coming back. Too long in the wilderness, he thought, and almost wanted to cry again. They were only small things, the way she wiped food off his face and the concern she showed for his errant hair, but they meant a lot. Those small, intimate gestures told him more than words and kisses ever could.

“Who am I supposed to be now?” he asked, arranging himself as requested. 

“Stay just like that,” she said from behind the camera.  “Rakish younger son, sexy poet, who would you like to be?”

“Just me really,” he said.  “Can’t seem to remember who I was though.”

“And we’ve already said it doesn’t matter.” Buffy stood away from the tripod and clicked the button on the cable.  “Just be the William who’s here now.  He’s a nice guy.”

“Oh yeah.” 

She moved towards him.  “I like him.”

“Do you?”

“Kissed him, didn’t I?”

“You certainly did.”  He watched her warily as she circled the chair, still holding the cable release, thumb still on the button.

“Want another picture?” he asked.

“Might do, hey.”  Before she knew it, he had her down on his lap, where she landed in a breathless heap. 

“Take this one then,” He shifted her so that she was more comfortable.  “Is the camera set?”

She nodded.

“Smile.”  His arm slid around her waist, his hand coming to rest just below her breast.  It was itching to move, but he kept it still. <i> First base,</i> he reminded himself. 

Buffy took the picture and then twisted round to look at him.  “I really like who you are now, William.” 

She fiddled with the loosened tie as she spoke, smoothing it down against his shirt with the flat of her hand, her warm fingers occasionally grazing his skin where she’d undone the top button.  Every time she did that, it made his fingers twitch where they touched her.

“And you wouldn’t be him without the last two and a half years, would you?”

“True,” he said, holding her tighter and wondering if she could feel how much he wanted her, and not just physically.  It had been worth it, he decided as he breathed in her perfume.  Even if this was all he was going to get, those two years in prison were worth every day of torment he’d been through.  And it was such an unexpected gift, because never in his wildest dreams had he thought that anything like this would be waiting for him.

But, now that it had happened, he had to worry that he wouldn’t be able to hang on to it.  And he already couldn’t bear the thought of that. 

“I want to take you out somewhere, you know, on a proper date,” he said, slipping his hand behind her neck and holding her in place so that he could look at her face.  She kept very still and let him, her eyes wide and unblinking, a faint smile on her lips.  Those damned freckles were still there, so he gave in and kissed each one lightly, in turn.  “Want to replace all the bad memories with good ones,” he said, and he buried his face into her shoulder and let her hold him.  “Will you help me do that?” he asked her, his voice muffled and slightly urgent.

“Come to the After Halloween party with me at the Bronze,” Buffy replied, stroking his hair, his shoulders, his back.  Every touch drawing him nearer to her and relaxing him more.  “I’ve got some memories I need to replace with good ones too.”

He didn’t want to go, not to the Bronze.  Far too public a place, especially if Anya had told more people about him than she’d let on.  And Cordelia was sure to have told Liam, and would probably be there with him.  But he understood why Buffy wanted to do this.

“Are you sure?” he said lifting his head.  “Won’t Cordelia be there with you –know –who?”

“Yeah, they’ll be there.” Buffy suddenly looked concerned. “William, I’m not just doing this so I can parade you in front of him.  You don’t think that, do you?”

“I don’t,” he said. “Just worried it might upset you, seeing him with her.”   

Buffy reached out and touched him gently on the cheek.  “Not any more,” she said  pulling him towards her.  “Not any more.”

“Then you’ve got yourself a date,” William said before he kissed her again, more slowly this time, tasting the wine she’d drunk.

“Can’t remember first base ever being this much fun,” he told her when they finally broke apart.  She looked gorgeous when she’d just been kissed, he thought.  Eyes sparkling, lips glistening, and her skin looked almost luminous under the studio lights.

“Go get the digital camera,” he said, never taking his eyes off her.  “I want to take some pictures of you.”

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Buffy spent the best part of the next day in that strange place between thinking something wonderful has happened, wondering if she’d dreamed it, and hoping desperately that it was going to happen again.  Apart from a few meaningful glances from William, no mention was made of the previous day’s kissing and by three o’ clock, when she finally declared the house ready for visitors, Buffy was beginning to think she’d imagined it all

“That’s it,” she said, undoing her headscarf  and shaking out her hair. “If it’s not ready now, it’ll never be.”

William offered her his hand as she climbed down from the step ladder, then grabbed her by the waist and swung her down.

“You still up for the Bronze on Sunday?” she asked, gazing up at him and thinking that one of them needed to break this impasse.

“Yeah.”  He kept hold of her, his hands still on her hips and there was a slightly awkward silence that Buffy eventually broke by giggling.

“You can kiss me again, you know.”  She raised herself slightly onto her toes.

His eyes held first a question, then a look of relief.  “Thought you were never going mention it.”

“And I thought you’d forgotten all about it.”

“Who me?”  William started the ball rolling with a small kiss on the end of her nose.  “Was starting to think I’d dreamed it all. Figured I ought to wait until you said something in case I made a prat of myself.”

“Faint heart never won fair maid,” she said with a laugh.  “Or something like that anyway.  Will, you did kiss me yesterday, and you have my full permission to do it again.  And often.”  She leaned  back so that she could see him properly.  “Does that help?”

He kissed her cheek.  “Yes it does.  I know this sounds stupid, but I just didn’t like to do it without your permission. But since you ask so nicely, keep still, got some making up to do.”

She did understand why he was being so careful, so she threw herself into the kiss and tried to let him know how much she wanted him to be doing just what he was doing.

“I know what you’re feeling, Will, and I’ll give you all the reassurance you need.  That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

“You’ve started calling me Will,” he said licking his thumb and rubbing a smear of dirt from her chin.  “Yeah, I still get this feeling that I have to really careful around all this. And it’s not your fault,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest.  “It’s mine, but I’ll get over it.  Just need time. And you,” he added.

She had started shortening his name, perhaps it was the new-found intimacy, she didn’t know, but this morning he’d just looked like a Will instead of a William.

“Suits you, I like Will.”  Then she added.  “Is it okay with you?”

“More than okay, love.” 

“And I meant what I said yesterday.  You do have me, Will.”

He nodded, then rested his chin on the top of her head and held her.  “Think I’ll go hop in the shower,” he said, eventually.

“Good idea,” she said, sniffing his armpit, which was just about level with her face  and earning herself a poke in the ribs.  She reciprocated by tickling him, noticing with some satisfaction how he wriggled frantically away.  “Aha,” she said, arching her eyebrows and storing the information up for later use. “I’ll go use the one in gran’s bathroom, then I’m going to the outlets, wanna come?  Need to buy an outfit for the Bronze.”

“Sure, I need some cash, and some new clothes too.”

They stayed where they were for a while longer, neither of them seeming inclined to move.  Rocking gently back and forth like the last slow dance at the end of a long evening, and Buffy started to appreciate, for the first time in her life, the value of just living the moment.  William was teaching her as much as she was teaching him and she’d managed to keep still for all of two minutes when a very wicked thought involving William and showers suddenly popped into her mind.

 She stepped away and ran a hand through her hair. 

“Don’t be long,” she told him, turning resolutely for the stairs.  Way too soon to be thinking along those lines, even if she had been awake most of the night with precisely those kind of thoughts running through her head.  They were supposed to be going slowly, she told herself.  But, despite her best efforts, her body was already starting to have other ideas.

When he kissed her it was with a restrained passion that simmered and bubbled just under the surface, and if she hadn’t known him better she’d almost have thought that he was doing it deliberately to get her all steamed up and wanting more. But he wasn’t playing games, she knew that.  Didn’t make it any less frustrating though.

The kiss had changed everything. Even though he was still exactly the same person as he’d been before, now she was aware of him on a completely different level.  Maybe she’d just been too long without a boyfriend, she thought as she stripped off her clothes and threw them down in a heap. The only soap in the shower was a bar of Old English Lavender, her gran’s favourite, and it was just how William had smelled last night in the old clothes. He’d tasted of cigarettes and usually smelled quite strongly of them too, as heavy smokers do, but now she was always going to associate that smell with him.

The worry that she was throwing herself into this the way she had with Liam had crossed her mind, but only fleetingly.  If she couldn’t trust William, then she’d never trust anyone again. She towelled off and quickly dried her hair. All he needed was a helping hand, she thought, because he’d already given her the distinct impression that she was in for a very long, Victorian style courtship. When she’d already decided where she wanted to be.

 He was waiting for her in the hall, wearing the blue shirt he’d arrived in teamed with his customary black jeans.

“Do you want me to iron that for you?” she asked when she saw how crumpled it was.

“Ironing, what’s that then?” he said cheerfully.  “You ready?”

“Yeah, do you want to drive?”

“Can I?”  His eyes lit up at the offer.  “That’s something I’ve really missed.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“My parents sold it.  They kind of owned it anyway.  One of their many investments.”

Buffy grabbed her jacket from the coat rack and handed William the car keys.

“Granddad was into cars, what was it?”

“Black De Soto.  God, she was beautiful. Not a mark on her.”

She didn’t miss the wistful note in his voice.  It wasn’t so much sadness, more of a hint of longing for things that have passed, things you can never have back.  Going to prison hadn’t just robbed him of his freedom. It had taken his whole life. 

And for nothing.

Buffy followed him out and locked the front door.  “What happened to all your stuff, while you were inside?”

“Parents organised someone to pack it all up and put it into storage. They owned the apartment too, so they just sold it.  Guess the market must have been right.”

“That’s awful,” she said, really feeling for him. “So what did you do when you came out?”

 “Had some savings so I found myself the cheapest place I could, and just went from there. And yeah, they wanted to buy me another one, but I wouldn’t let them. Didn’t really want to talk to anyone when I came out.”

William started the engine and Buffy decided to leave it there.  She’d known it was going to be complicated, but this was tangled beyond anything she could have imagined. And putting herself in his shoes only made it worse.  She tried to picture all her things being packed away by strangers, coming back to nothing, the slate wiped clean of everything she’d spent a lifetime building.  And she imagined her gran and her mom not only having to lose her, but having to cope with her being a completely different person when she came back.

“Turn left at the lights then it’s straight until we hit the mall.  What are you going to buy?”

“Need some jeans and a couple of shirts.  Didn’t think I’d be staying this long.”

Buffy gave his hand a squeeze as he braked for the lights.  She hadn’t given that much thought either.  They’d started something, but so far it only existed in the space they’d created for it.  And it was an artificial place created by circumstance, a bit like a holiday romance she realised.  You could get as carried away as you liked with it, but sooner or later you had to make a decision.  You either kissed goodbye and promised to write, knowing that you never would, or one of you had to give everything up and move into the other person’s world.

“Will your apartment be okay, with you being away from it so long?” she asked him, as casually as she could manage.

“Got some friends keeping an eye on things, but there’s nothing worth stealing.  Why do you ask?”  His voice had a studied air to it too, almost as if he knew what she was going to say, but was afraid that it was going to be something else.

Buffy pulled at her seatbelt, then leaned forward to turn off the heater.  “You are staying, aren’t you?”  She flicked him a glance and swallowed down her heart as it inched its way towards her throat.

“Do you want me to?” 

“I do, Will. Do you, want to?” 

“Of course I do. I’ve wanted to stay since the minute I walked through the door.”  He looked at her, then back at the road. “People are gonna think I’m taking advantage of you, though.”

“Why?”

“Jailbird meets woman with big house.  Doesn’t take much to figure it out.”

“I don’t care what people think.”

“You may tell yourself you don’t care, but it’ll still hurt.”

Buffy fell silent.  He was right.  This relationship wasn’t just their business, much as she wanted it to be.  They’d have to tell her mom, but she would understand.  Whether she’d approve or not was another matter.  Then there was everyone else. Willow and Tara would be for them and Xander would come round, eventually, but there’d be whispers and fingers pointed.  Who was going to believe that William really was a victim rather than a brutal rapist?  This place was notorious for gossip and they probably already had her pegged as one of those sad women who wrote to serial killers in prison and end up wanting to marry them. 

By the time they got to the mall her mouth had taken on a definite downward tilt and William didn’t fail to notice it.

He parked the car, unbuckled his seat belt and reached out for her.  “Having second thoughts?”

“No, I’m not.”  She unbuckled herself and moved towards him, settling her cheek on his shoulder.  “Why are people so stupid?”

 “Just the way the world is,” he replied.

She let him stroke her back for a while and breathed in the clean, laundry smell of his shirt. Of course, the simple solution would be to just move.  Go somewhere else where no one knew them, and start again. People did that.  Gave up everything for love.  She shivered, and he pulled her closer. 

Give up everything she’d ever wanted? The house by the sea. Her life basically, because she’d never known anything else. It was too scary to even contemplate.

But William was here, holding her and murmuring quiet words of reassurance. He was real and he needed her and he wanted her. She just had to decide what was important in life.

And she didn’t just want him, she needed him too. All those years of looking and waiting for Mr. Right to come along, and now that he was here, was she going to let a few gossips push him away?

The hell she was.

“Come on,” she said, straightening up and giving him a quick kiss on the mouth. “Got some shopping to do, and come Sunday, me and you are going dancing.”

“I’m crap at dancing.” 

He looked relieved at the upturn in her mood and it was only then that she noticed how tense the conversation had made him.  He was still holding her, just a little too tightly, as if she was about to disappear.

“I knew you were going to say that,” she said, smiling at last.  “But you’ll dance with me, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said leaning his forehead against hers.  “I’ll certainly dance with you.”  

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“Shit.”

William shaded the screen of the ATM machine with his hand and leaned in a little closer, screwing up his eyes.  Even without his glasses he could see that the balance was way wrong.  He cleared the transaction and started again.  Buffy wandered up beside him and dipped into the large bag of popcorn that she’d bought.

“Did you get your cash?” She offered him some, but he waved it away.

“Something wrong with this machine, won’t be a minute.”  He waited for his card and then pushed it back into the slot, but when he punched in his number and asked for a balance the figure was still the same.

“Fuck.” 

“What’s wrong?”  Buffy, frowned at him as he swore and then leaned over to see what he was looking at. “Wow, ten thousand dollars.  Will you marry me?”

He looked at it again.  Ten thousand, two hundred and twenty seven dollars.  Of which precisely two hundred and twenty seven dollars were his.  “My bloody parents, that’s what’s wrong.”  He closed his eyes, but it was still the same when he opened them so he balled his fist and took out all his frustration at his parents’ thoughtlessness on the glass screen.  He’d hit it three times before a panic stricken Buffy managed to grab his hand and pull him away, and by then someone had already called  security from a nearby store.

Buffy’s voice filtered through as he closed his eyes again to stop himself squaring off against the security guard who was walking towards them. His behaviour  was frightening her, he knew that so he concentrated on the sound of her voice and breathed. 

She left him momentarily and he heard her placating the guard and assuring him that it was nothing more than a bad balance that had set him off, then she was back, pressing his bank card into his hand and folding his fingers over it.

He stared at it for a moment, turned it over and listened to the sound of his own laboured breathing, wondering how much he’d blown things with his outburst. 

“Sorry about that.” It didn’t look like his name.  He turned the card over again, squinted his eyes and then let the numbers blur as he listened to her voice.

“What happened, William?”

He had blown it.  She wasn’t calling him Will any more. 

“Nothing.”  Pulling out his cigarettes and lighter, he attempted to light himself one, but couldn’t because his hand was shaking too much. Buffy took it from him.

“Here.”  She flicked it a couple of times and waited while he drew on the cigarette, then he stepped back to put some distance between them, because it didn’t seem right to be anywhere near her when he felt like this.

“No, Will, don’t go away from me.”  She matched him step for step and he felt her hand on his arm, a light, questioning touch.  He stared at it for a few moments, then covered it with his own.

“Not going anywhere, love.”

“That’s a relief, come here.”

She held out her arms and he threw down the cigarette, ground it underfoot and stepped into them.  It was too tempting to want to stay there and never move again.  To just let her filter the world for him and cushion him against all its trials and tribulations. And he was beginning to feel more than a little embarrassed about his outburst.

“You’re bloody wonderful, Buffy. D’you know that?”

“Well, yeah, I try to be,” she said with a shaky laugh.  “Come on, let’s get you back.”

“Keys?”  He held them up to her, but she pushed them away. 

“No, you drive, and talk to me when we get home, don’t do it now.  If you want to,” she added.

“Bloody amazing,” he said holding her so tightly that she squealed. “Don’t know what I did to deserve you. And that,” he tilted his head back towards the ATM machine, “was just me having a tantrum and being a spoilt brat.  No sweat.”

“I thought you were going to hit that security guard.”  Her face turned serious.  “Guess that was Spike making an appearance?”

“Told you he wasn’t a very nice guy.”

“Got a temper on him, I’ll give you that, but he’s part of you, Will so he can’t be all that bad.”

Her hand slipped into his and he let her lead him back to the car. At some point he took the shopping bags from her because he realised she was carrying all the packages, and they reminded him of the fun they’d had choosing new clothes for their date on Sunday. Her modelling the clothes for him while he sat outside the changing room and read a magazine.  Two other men had joined him and gone through the same ritual with their other halves, and one of them had offered him some gum and started a conversation about soccer when he’d heard his accent. A brief moment of male solidarity which had made him feel part of the human race again.

When they got back to the car, Buffy pressed him against the door, hooked her arms around his neck and kissed him with a passion that threatened to sabotage all his carefully laid plans of courting her slowly. <i> To hell with first base,</i> he thought as he dropped the bags and  lifted her off the ground so that her legs were dangling.  

Two and a half years of his life wasted.  Six months of hiding in a basement telling himself that this was something he’d never have because he could never take that risk.

All he had to do was believe again.  Listen to the message that she was giving him and trust that he was hearing it right.  Only time would tell, he thought, shifting their positions and lifting her onto the hood, because she was slipping  and he wanted to stay as close to her as possible.  But deep down he already knew. 

Someone whistled as they walked past, but he didn’t care.  They had no idea what this meant to him and he was done with hiding.  Let the whole bloody world look, he thought, this is between me and her, and nobody else.  

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Dinner was a burger at a drive- in, and by the time they got back William seemed himself again. He had warned her about Spike, and now she knew.  But then no one was perfect, even though William somehow seemed to think she should expect him to be.

What she felt more than anything was sadness rather than shock at his behaviour.  William was such a sweet man, gentlemanly and polite, and just shy enough to be challenging to a woman.  Having to go against his nature and be forced to live as someone even he didn’t like was just another way in which prison had ruined his life.

And then she remembered the way he’d responded to her kiss back in the parking lot.  William kisses were nice, but the Spike kiss had made her toes curl and the bottom drop right out of her stomach.

Napoleon was waiting on the doorstep as they climbed the steps leaning his front paws impatiently on the door as she found her keys.

“Feed him, will you,” she said to William as they went in.  “Just going upstairs to change, then we’ll go use the hot tub.  Yeah?”

“That’d be nice.  You’ve got some swim shorts I can borrow?”  He handed her the shopping bags.  “Dump these on the bed, will you, and I’ll go feed this nuisance,” he said scooping up the cat who’d been weaving himself insistently in and out of his legs.  “Bloody cupboard love, that’s all it is.”

The hot tub.  Maybe it would help him to relax so that he’d tell her what the hell had happened at the bank machine.  And that gave her another dilemma. What did she wear that wouldn’t look as if she was being too provocative?  Too soon to be giving him that kind of heart attack.

She still opted for a bikini, rather than a one piece, albeit one of her more sensible ones. A blue denim affair with a halter top, not too brief, and she covered it with track pants and a fleece because it was chilly out, then slipped into a pair of flip flops.

William was sitting at the kitchen table when she went down, attempting to read the newspaper without his glasses.  The way he scrunched up his face made her smile and she helped herself to a cookie from the packet that he had open in front of him.

“I’d love to see your apartment sometime,” she said, instinctively wiping up the crumbs he’d scattered over the table-top.

“No you wouldn’t, it’s a dump,” he replied and put down the newspaper.  “Remind me not to do that,” he said rubbing at his eyes. 

“What, read the newspaper without your glasses?”  Buffy moved behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. He leaned back with a grateful sigh as she squeezed gently.

“Yeah, always gives me a headache.  Wouldn’t mind a couple of painkillers if you’ve got some.”

“Why don’t you go down to the hot-tub and get changed,” she said.  You’ll find  swimwear in the shower-room.  I’ll get you some pain-killers and join you in a while.”

“Okay, got any whiskey in the house?”

“Think so.  Gran left a very well stocked bar that we must explore some day.  But not tonight,” she added firmly when she saw his eyes light up.  “Don’t want any hangovers tomorrow.  And should you be drinking whiskey with painkillers?”

“Best combination,” he said and stood up.  “Don’t be long.”

“I won’t.  Gonna give you that Indian Head Massage  I promised you, they’re great for soothing headaches, and you can tell me what the deal was with the money.  Wish I had ten thousand dollars.”

“Thought your gran left you some.”

“Yeah, but it’s all tied up with the house.  Strictly for maintenance and bills.  Think she thought I was going to blow it all on a Ferrari or something.”

“Damn,” William said, bending to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “And there I was after you for your money.  See you in a bit.”

Buffy tidied up the mess he’d made with the cookies, found the painkillers and the whiskey, and then gave him five more minutes before locking up the house to go join him.  Mainly because she didn’t want to embarrass him by catching him undressing and also because he looked as if he needed a few minutes to himself.  He hadn’t been for his walk tonight and she knew he valued his ‘thinking time’ as he’d started calling it.

That thought caused her to pause as she made her way down the garden, so she sat on the wall, closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the sea for a few minutes.  Something she’d missed doing in the past week.

It was always here that her sense of place in the world was the strongest.  The sea in front of her, the house at her back.  The familiarity of the smooth, weathered brick beneath her.  If she closed her eyes she could be seven years old again and sitting here feeling as if she was on top of the world. Or a young teenager watching couples in love walk hand in hand along the shoreline.  Envying them their carefree happiness and feeling guilty at the illicit thrill of watching them kiss and touch each other, as if they were the only two people left alive.

Her gran had certainly known what she’d been doing when she’d left her the house. She hadn’t only left her bricks and mortar, she’d left her stability at a time when Buffy had started to feel lost and adrift in the world. She’d left her a sense of responsibility in the form of a family heirloom that she needed to care for until it was time to pass it on to the next generation.

And she hadn’t only left her a place to live.  She’d left her a place where she could build herself a life.  A house that had seen many generations come and go and was now waiting for the next one.  For a new couple to fill it with children, laughter and maybe tears too. All the normal stuff.   Synchronicity?  Maybe.  Her gran had always joked that she’d go join granddad when Buffy needed the house.  She’d died, and within months, William had appeared.

Buffy shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold.  Sometimes the time just feels right, and life takes on a momentum of its own. As she walked quietly into the cabin she saw that William was already in the tub.  His chin was propped on his chest, his eyes closed, as if he was asleep, and as she looked at him a wave of something warm washed over her and filled her up. A very small orchestra started playing in the background, but not so loud that it drowned every thing out.  She still knew where she was and exactly what she was doing.  It was more of a soft focus than a blinding light, but it was a magic moment none the less.

She’d already fallen in love with him. There was no doubt left in her mind that this was it, time for Buffy Summers to finally grow up and start living that life she’d always dreamed of. 

The moment when she learned that true love is as much about two people helping each other through the ups and downs of life, as the hearts and the flowers. 

William opened his eyes and found her standing there, smiling at him. “Thought you’d forgotten me,” he said sitting up.  “You coming in?”

“Had a few things to do.”  Buffy toed off her flip-flops and walked round to him.  “Here,” she said handing him the glass.  “One Whiskey, and two Tylenol.  They okay?”

“Thanks.”

“How’s the head?”  She stayed where she was, crouched down beside him and watched in amusement as he swallowed the tablets then drained the whiskey glass in one draught.  The heart stopping moments and the warm fuzzy feelings were all well and good, but they were just the beginning.  There was so much she didn’t know about this man, and she suspected he still had a long way to go before he could call himself healed.  Perhaps he’d never really recover fully from his ordeal. 

“Still there,” he said, settling himself again.  “Come in with me, Buffy.”

“Did you even taste that?”

He looked at the empty glass and shrugged. “Force of habit.  Quicker you drink it, the quicker you get the effect.”

“But not any more, William. You don’t need to do that any more.”  She knelt down on the wooden floor and traced a finger along one of the thin scars on his upper arm.  “Look at the state of you,” she said.  “How could they let this happen?”

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Buffy.”

He was watching every move she made, and she could feel the tremor that ran along his skin as she touched him.  Her arms slipped around his neck and she leaned her chin on his shoulder.

“I’ll feel sorry for you if I want to. Still up for the massage?”

“Sounds good.”  William twisted himself round for a kiss, then continued to watch her as she sat back on her heels and pulled her hair back into a ponytail using the scrunchie she’d put in her pocket.  The zipper of her fleece was half way down when she realised just how hard he was staring at her. The way he suddenly averted his eyes brought on an unaccustomed bout of shyness and her hand stilled.

It was only swimwear she told herself, and William was sitting there, half naked in front of her, although he was mostly covered up by the bubbling water.  And Xander had seen her like this many times, so what was the problem?

Because William wouldn’t be looking at her like Xander did, that was for sure.  She’d seen the way his gaze had intensified  as she’d started to slide the zipper down, and the almost guilty expression as he’d turned away.

“William.”

He turned back, slowly and almost looked relieved that she was still dressed.

“Do it for me,” she said, leaning towards him.  “Would you?”

A momentary pause then a brief nod was all she got in response, although his face said it all.  He wanted to, but he looked terrified.

“Nothing bad’s going to happen,” Buffy said, and she held out her hand. “We’ll only be doing what we both want to do, right?”

“Right.”  He found his voice, at last and gave her his hand.  She placed it on the pull-ring of the zipper and then he twisted himself around and knelt on the seat so that he could do it properly.

“I already know how beautiful you are,” he told her as he pulled it slowly down.  “Could see that with my eyes closed.”

Everything faded.  The house, the sea, the bubbling and gurgling of the hot tub, the dark night.  It all went away, until it was just the two of them in a world concentrated down into the only things that were really important.

Gazing at someone lovingly.  Touching them as if they were the most precious thing in the world.  Making them feel wanted and needed.  Finding a true connection with another human being.  One that will sustain you for the rest of your life.

And reaching out for it with everything that you have. 

“You’ll always be safe with me, Will.”  The fleece trailed down her arms and she shook it away to let it fall onto the wooden decking.

“I know,” he replied in a voice that held no doubt. 

Buffy managed to keep still as he touched her very lightly with his fingertips, stopping just short of the top curve of her breasts, almost as if he was working to some strictly self-imposed limit and it wasn’t time to move on yet. Like a man in a trance he traced the line of her shoulders and her neck, and she could feel it.  The very edge of control that he was barely hanging on to.  It was as fascinating and exciting as it was frustrating, but she knew how important it was for him to do this his way.

“Got some oil somewhere, shall I go find it?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t drop his hand immediately but let it linger for a moment longer.  “How do we do this, then?”

Whenever you’re ready, she thought, Just say the word.

“Get back in, I’ll sit behind you on the edge.  Won’t be a minute.” 

The oil was on the shelf in the shower room and while she was there she stripped off her track pants and checked herself in the mirror. <i> This is what a woman in love looks like, </i>she told herself.  A slightly goofy grin, the softness around the eyes.  A sudden desire to want to hug herself and do a silly dance.  Tara was definitely going to notice and Buffy wondered whether that mattered.  Nice as it was to live in this private bubble, people would have to know sooner or later and they’d be making their judgments and offering their opinions whether they were wanted or not.

“Here you go,” she said, sitting herself behind him on the side of the tub so that he was between her legs as they dangled into the water.  Probably the most intimate position they’d been in, but he settled himself comfortably back without hesitation so that his head rested against her stomach and his arms were leaning on her thighs.

His loud theatrical groan as she dug her fingers into his hair made her laugh out loud.

“Just love you messing with my hair,” he said, tickling her knees to cover his embarrassment. 

“And you must tell me what else you like.”  Buffy covered her hands with oil and for the next few minutes neither of them spoke.  She closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation of his thick, curly hair slipping through her fingers and of the way he responded to her touch. 

Tickling turned to a slow caress, each of his hands cupping her knees, his arms rubbing along the length of her thighs.  Hard muscles softened and relaxed, breathing speeded up and movements slowed down.  Buffy kissed the top of his head as her hands slid over his shoulders and tightened her thighs around him as he touched her.

“What was the deal with the cash?” she whispered and nibbled on his ear-lobe because she just couldn’t resist it. He wasn’t having this all his way.

“Money equals affection.  They just don’t get it. Do that again,” William said, tilting his head so she could have better access.

“What this?”  She could feel his skin tingling as she bit down gently and followed with a series of small bites across his shoulder.  “You like being bitten?” she asked him.

“Only by you,” he said in a low murmur. “I’ve told them I don’t want it, but they never listen. I’ll send it back.”

The head massage was rapidly turning into something else as Buffy leaned over him and flattened her palms against his chest, her hands moving almost of their own accord.  That was her excuse, anyway.  He wasn’t protesting and she was enjoying the sounds of his rapidly growing arousal far too much to want to stop.

It was a slow burn rather than a consuming flame. There was so much to learn. Just because you’d had sex with one person didn’t mean that you knew how to have sex with someone else.  Not meaningful sex, anyway.  And there wasn’t going to be any other kind, not any more.

At some point he turned and lifted her down into the pool with him and they sat together, her in front of him this time, and Buffy discovered that she liked having her ear nibbled at too.  The room steamed up, and the heat started to rise. Hot skin, hot breath.  His hands on the bare skin of her stomach, pulling her against him, letting her know exactly what she was doing to him. Buffy tilted her head back when she felt it, but he just hid his face in her shoulder and held her even tighter.

His careful restraint was torturing her, but when she told him that, he shook his head and kissed her neck.

“We’ll get there,” he said.  “I want to, you must know that.  Just so bloody nervous, want to get this right, Buffy.”

“Me too,” she admitted settling herself back against him.  “Feels kind of like the first time, don’t know why.”

“That’s how it felt when you kissed me.”

“You kissed me, as I recall, and you felt anything but nervous.” 

The temperature dropped a little as they talked.  He needed reassurance and that was more important than making out, nice though it was.

“If I do anything wrong, you will tell me, won’t you?”

“You won’t do anything wrong, Will. And you don’t have to be perfect, we all make mistakes sometime and you might too.  But it won’t be the end of the world if you do.”

“Tell me I’m not dreaming then.”

Buffy turned herself round to face him and hooked her arms around his neck “Does this feel like a dream to you?”

“Yes and no.  I know you’re here, still can’t really believe this is happening though.”

“Then I’ll have to make you a believer,” she said rubbing her nose against his.  “Come on, we’re starting to wrinkle, let’s go to bed.”

Suddenly it was hot again.  She hadn’t meant to say it like that, especially after the conversation they’d just had, but he didn’t comment on it.  When they’d dressed, he replaced the cover while she rinsed out the swimwear and hung it out to dry, then they ran back to the house because it was chilly out.  Buffy had goose-bumps by the time they were inside and she wondered if William had noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra, since she’d forgotten to take any underwear with her to the cabin.

“Hot chocolate,” she said as they walked into the kitchen.  “You lock up, I’ll make us some.”

“Sounds good.” 

William disappeared to check the front door while Buffy searched the kitchen cupboard for the chocolate.  She knew he liked to make sure everything was secure, so she’d started making a point of asking him to do it for her. He double checked anyway, when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“All set for tomorrow then?”  Buffy sat down with her mug and pushed his across the table to him.  “Girls changing in my room, boys in yours, that okay?”

“By boys, you mean Xander?”

“Yeah, he’s going to play the gardener.  I apologise in advance for his outrageous English country accent.  Sure to get it tomorrow. But he’s great, always works really hard.”

“Seems like a good bloke. Can I take photos tomorrow, for the website, while everyone’s in costume?”

“Great idea, Will.”  She’d almost forgotten about the website, his real reason to be here.  Somehow it didn’t seem that important any more, but it did remind her that she hadn’t done much painting in the last week and she ought to get back into her routine.

“Buffy,” he said lowering his eyes, his voice suddenly serious.  “Do you know what really scares me?”

“Tell me,” she said quickly reaching out for him.  “What is it?”

“Going to sleep at night, because that means I’ll have to wake up.  And I’m so bloody terrified that one day I’ll wake and I’ll be back there, still in prison, and not here any more..”

“It’s not going to happen, Will. This is real. Feel it.” 

He wasn’t ready.  Not for the way she’d been pushing him and flirting with him.  A pang of guilt overtook her as she remembered her behaviour in the hot tub.

“God, ignore me, I’m talking rubbish.”  William looked up at last and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.  “Just tired is all.  Never make much sense when I’m tired. Feel like I haven’t slept properly for the last two and a half years.  And that thing with the cash, they’ve been like that all my life.  Bikes, expensive cars, luxury apartments.  When all they had to do was bloody give me some attention once in a while.  Would have been a heck of a lot cheaper for them.”

“Oh Will, I’m sorry.”  Buffy got up and went to him and he let her hold him, much to her relief.  “And I’ve been coming on too strong, haven’t I? I’ll never learn.”

“Hey, what kind of talk is that?  Come on, sit here and give us a cuddle.”  William swung his legs over the bench and patted his knee.  “Got yourself a tired, cranky boyfriend with a monster headache, and that’s all it is.”

Buffy stilled. “So you are my boyfriend then? We can make it official?”

He levelled his gaze with hers, and yes, he did look tired, but not unhappy, not when he looked at her.

“I’m yours if you’ll have me. That official enough?”

“Oh, I’ll have you Will. And you know you’ve got me, don’t you?”

“I’m the luckiest man on earth then. Come on, bed’s starting to sound good.”

Buffy slid from his lap.  “Think I’ll tidy up before I go.”

“No, let’s go to bed now.”  William still had her hand, and he didn’t seem about to let go.

“Are you sure?” she asked him.

“Just to sleep,” he said with a laugh.  “I’d be a big disappointment to you tonight, but it’d be nice to wake up with you tomorrow morning, if you don’t mind, that is.”

“We’d better take the hot chocolate then.”

He raised his eyebrows at that.  “You’ll be buying me slippers next.”

“No need, got some of granddad’s upstairs.”  Buffy picked up her drink and indicated for him to do the same.  “Hot chocolate it is then.  And bed-socks, gran left a drawer- full of bed-socks.”

“I am not wearing slippers, and you are definitely not wearing bed-socks. No way.”

“I get really cold feet,” she told him as she waited while he rechecked the front door locks.

“I’ll keep you warm, don’t worry,” he said, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs. “Oh and Buffy, just thump me or something if I start feeling too sorry for myself.”

“Okay,” she said cheerfully. 

They parted at the top of the stairs and Buffy skipped into her bedroom where she had another debate with herself over what to wear.  Tee- shirt, or pyjamas?  The tee shirt won and teamed with some sensible underwear it looked quite decent.

Another first coming up she thought as she stood at his bedroom door.  William was the only man she’d ever spent a whole night with, and the last time didn’t really count as he hadn’t know she was there. 

He was sitting up in bed wearing a black tee-shirt and reading the poetry book he’d borrowed from her.  When he saw her he took off his glasses and dropped them on the bedside table.

“Didn’t know which side you wanted. This okay?”

“Its fine.”  Buffy put down her cup and climbed in beside him, William shuffled over to his side to give her more room and then there was a short silence because neither of them seemed to know what to do next. 

“What were you reading?” Buffy asked him.

“Keats.”  William picked up the book.  “Never understood this bit.”

Buffy leaned over and traced the line with her finger.  “No, me neither.”  His arm went around her then and they both stared at the page. 

“I’ve never done this before.”

“William brought the book closer.  “Is that what he’s trying to say?”

“No, stop teasing me, it’s what I’m trying to say.”

“You’ve never spent a whole night with anyone before?”

“It wouldn’t matter if I had.”  He felt lovely and warm.  Definitely no cold feet tonight.  “I’ve never spent the night with you before, not like this anyway. I don’t know which side you like either, or whether you snore, or whether I snore for that matter.”

“It’ll be fun finding out though, won’t it?”  He picked up his mug and took a sip. “Learning to live with someone, finding out what they like, what they don’t like. It’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?  I’m very easy- going by the way.  You’ll never get an argument from me about home décor.” 

“That’s a definite plus.”  Buffy picked up her mug too and they drank their chocolate together in companionable silence.  It wasn’t just the finding out about each other and the establishing of routines.  It was the fact that they both wanted to that made this more serious than anything she’d done before. 

“Perhaps we should write each other a report entitled ‘all about me’,” Buffy said when she’d finished drinking.  “Get this stage over nice and quick.”

“Oh no,” William said turning her face to his.  “I want you to reveal yourself to me slowly, give me tantalising glimpses and always leave me wanting more. I want you to surprise me and tease me and infuriate me. And I want you to keep doing that for the rest of my life. But do you know what I want most of all?”

“I want you to love me.”  Buffy finished, in a quiet voice.  “That’s one of my favourites, Will, and no one’s ever read poetry to me before.”

“That’s ‘cos you’ve never met me before.  Come on, time for lights out, I think.” William pulled off his tee shirt, leaned over and switched off the lamp and they lay down and wriggled themselves comfortable. 

He managed a small kiss behind her ear before falling asleep with his face pressed against her shoulder, but Buffy found sleep was a long time in coming.  What if he’d been right and this really was a dream?  How would she feel if she woke up tomorrow morning all alone in the house with nothing left of him but the vague fragments of night-time memories?” 

Not going to happen, she said to herself.  This warm, solid, and very surprising man was wrapped around her now, and he was still going to be there in the morning. Buffy fell asleep to the sound of his gentle snores and with the poem echoing in her mind. Fate was smiling at them and all they had to do was smile back.  That, and just keep hold of each other, because as long as they did that, how could they go wrong?