Chapter 14

I wasn’t supposed to be there. But no-one believed me because everyone said the same thing. They were all innocent. Only I really was, and the injustice of it was driving me insane. I wasn’t one of them and I told that to anyone who’d listen. And they’d raise their eyebrows and say, what are you doing here then? And after a while what they said started to make sense. I was in prison, right? So I must have done something, because only guilty people went to prison. But for the life of me, I couldn’t remember what it was. So in the end I made something up and in a strange way it made me feel better.

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


It was smaller than he remembered it. But he’d been expecting that. The mess was vaguely embarrassing, although Buffy didn’t say anything. She raised her eyebrows when she got to the sink and he cringed when he saw the dirty plates now sporting a colourful mould.

“I was so nervous that day your mum came to fetch me. Kind of forgot all about them.”

“Do you want me to wash up?” Buffy looked around for the dishwashing liquid.

“No, you shouldn’t have to clean up after me. I’ll do it.” He picked up one of the plates and pulled a face. “Perhaps we should just replace them?”

“I don’t mind, Will,” she replied, rolling back her sleeves. “Is there any hot water?”

“Might be.” William stood behind her, his arms around her waist. “Always was pretty hit and miss. Place isn’t exactly Buckingham Palace.”

Buffy leaned back against him and he smiled at the domesticity of the scene. And the differences between them. He would have stared at the plates for a while, decided they weren’t worth the bother and thrown them in the bin, but she was obviously already imagining the nice clean stack on the draining board.

“I’ve noticed,” she said. “What’s that weird smell?”

“No idea,” he replied. “Was here when I moved in. Probably the damp. Want to come upstairs and meet the landlady? Nosy old biddy. Bet she already knows you’re here.”

“Let’s tidy up first, then we can go hand in the keys,” Buffy said. “She might want to come down and look around or something. Can’t let her see this mess.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “That bad is it?”

“Pretty much,” she said with a laugh. “Guess you weren’t big with the housekeeping.”

“Ain’t that a fact.”

William pulled his sweatshirt over his head and threw it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. The mess didn’t look too awful to him, but it was all relative, he guessed. So long since he’d lived with his Gran, with so much real life in between that he’d forgotten what it was to be house-proud. Until he’d met Buffy and her Mom.

Steam rising from the sink told him there was hot water, so he left Buffy to the washing up, picked up a couple of the boxes they’d brought along, and wandered into the bedroom. Coming back hadn’t been as easy as he’d thought it would be. This place had suited him once when he’d needed somewhere to hide and lick his wounds. Somewhere to feel sorry for himself. And he’d certainly done that. It was supposed to have been his bridge back into the world, but instead it had become just another prison, because that’s all he could remember when he came out.

The world had looked so big. And real life had seemed a haphazard mess of people who all knew what they were doing and where they were going. All except for him.

Packing up didn’t take long. Sparse was a good word to describe the extent of his belongings, he thought, eyeing the boxes he’d just about managed to fill. Acquiring possessions hadn’t been a priority lately and the things in storage belonged to someone he didn’t recognise any more, so they’d stayed there.

“You okay?”

William looked around, a little dazed. He was sitting on the bed staring at the wall. and he wanted to cry, because this was the place where he did that and it was all coming back to him. Weighing him down like it always did.

“I think so,” he said, getting a grip on himself. “Bit strange being back here, that’s all.” He looked up at her and held out his arms. “Bloody depressing place, isn’t it?”

Buffy walked into them and he sighed a little when she sat herself beside him, because he still couldn’t quite believe that every time he held out his arms she’d be there.

“I was so bloody lost when I came out,” he said, letting her hold him. “Didn’t have a clue how to start living again.”

“That’s sad, Will.”

“Yeah, pathetic, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Buffy lay down and he felt her hand rubbing his back, easing the tension between his shoulders.

Reminding him that he wasn’t alone in this anymore. But the urge to slip back into the old routine was so strong. Smoking and drinking. Sleeping, if he was lucky. Nightmares and loneliness. A life that consisted of aimless circles in a fog, that always inevitably returned him to the same spot.

He looked back, then lay down beside her. “Glad you came,” he said. “It still all feels a bit too real.”

“It’ll fade,” she said, leaning up on one elbow so that she was looking down at him. “You just need to get some good memories in there.” She stroked his head as she spoke her wise words and he sighed again and listened, deep down knowing that she was right, but wondering if she would ever have any idea how frightening this all was for him. Even though he knew he didn’t live here any more, his mind played tricks on him. For a split second he’d think he did and then he’d realise that he didn’t, and it all took a toll, emotionally and physically.

“Everything’s done for you in prison,” he said. “You get into the routine really quickly because the same thing happens over and over and after a while you get sort of brainwashed. Then something happens to shatter that routine and everything falls apart.”

Buffy didn’t speak, and he didn’t need her to. There wasn’t anything she could say that he hadn’t already told himself, again and again. Instead she continued to caress his hair and his face, soothing him and calming him with her touch. Being there for him as she’d promised all those weeks ago.

“And after a while,” he continued. “The unpredictability of it all becomes routine. There’s this undercurrent, like a time bomb about to go off, only no-one’s told you when, and you spend your whole time on red alert waiting for the explosion. Do I sound like a lunatic?”

“Of course not, Will. You sound like someone who went through a really traumatic experience that’s left scars. Bound to have. I wouldn’t have coped any better.”

“People just go off. Lose their heads over the slightest thing. It was like living in a bloody madhouse. And the worst part was that I wasn’t supposed to be there. I felt so out of place, and nobody believed me.” He covered his face with a hand as he told her the next part. It sounded so stupid now. “Do you know what I did?”

“What?”

Buffy traced the line of his jawbone, sliding her hand around to cup the back of his neck and he kept his eyes closed so that he could feel it, without any distractions. And so that he could learn a little more about trust and intimacy. He could do this and have it done to him, and the world wouldn’t come crashing down around his ears; Buffy was teaching him that.

“I made up this elaborate crime for myself. Tried to convince myself that I was in for tax evasion. I just needed a reason to be there, because the injustice of it all was driving me crazy.”

“I can understand that,” she whispered, and he felt her hand lifting his head and her hair brushing his face as she met him half-way for a kiss.

She always kissed him just right, as if she knew exactly what he needed. This kiss told him she was there for him and that she loved him enough to want him to stay with her. It told him not to be afraid to ask for what he needed because she was ready to give whatever he wanted.

And when her lips left his to kiss their way down the side of his neck he knew where she was headed, so he pulled his tee-shirt out of his jeans himself, silently asking that she continue fighting his demons with him.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she said, as first her fingers and then her lips outlined the ridged scar on his stomach.

This was worthy of tears, but they were tears of gratitude, not of sorrow. And there were only a few because he was getting better at this. It had definitely been worth it. The baptism of fire that had brought him to this point in his life, and all the pain. He’d thought so before and he thought it every time she touched him. Every time he looked at her, and he never wanted it to end. It was still early days, but he’d already made up his mind. If he walked to the other end of the earth he wouldn’t find a woman like her, he was sure of that, just as he was sure that she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

He caught his breath as she reached for his belt and suggested, with a giggle, that they say a proper goodbye to his old bed.

“Don’t have any condoms with me, love.”

“Good thing I do then.” She slid from the bed and disappeared for a few moments. “There you go,” she said, fishing one out of her purse, “prepared for all eventualities.”

“You had this planned?”

“Don’t tell me it hadn’t crossed your mind?” she said and threw herself face down beside him.”

“Didn’t actually,” he replied, slipping the foil packet under the pillow. “But it should have, I suppose.”

“Shall I go on the pill?” Buffy rolled onto her back and turned her head towards him. “Would you like me to?”

Make love to her properly with no barriers between them. Feel her all around him. Was she kidding?

“Yeah, I’d like it,” he said turning to face her. “Very much. But it’s your decision really, ‘cos you’re the one who’s got to take it.”

“Never been serious enough to want to before.”

“So this is serious enough?” William reached for her hand, his desire to make love to her momentarily displaced by the need to simply hold her. He lifted it and inspected it carefully. “When did I die then?” he asked her.

“Die? Who’s talking about dying?”

“Well,” he said. “This is heaven, right? So I must have died at some time.”

Buffy sniffed and wrinkled up her nose. “Doesn’t smell much like heaven to me.”

“Oh, it’s heaven alright.” He continued to stare at their joined fingers. “Buffy, can I buy you a ring?” he asked quietly.

“A ring?”

“Well, just picked up a message from mum, several actually, and she was asking whether I was going to keep the money.” William laughed to himself. “Told me to stop sulking and call them back and at least let them know I’d received it. Then I realised that they didn’t know where I was and were probably a bit freaked, but then I never speak to them much…”

“William!” Buffy interrupted him with a hand over his mouth. “What was that about a ring?”

“Oh.” His heart went off at a quick gallop, then slowed down again as he breathed through it and came to what he was trying to say.

“I’d like to buy you a ring. Can I? I know it’s early days, but I’d like it to mean something.” William held himself very still. Listening and waiting for her response. Feeling as vulnerable as he’d ever felt.

There was no hesitation in her answer and she gave as generously as she always did.

“I’d love to wear it,” she said. “And I’ll go on the pill as soon as I can.”

The look she gave him was tentative as she stopped talking, waiting, in turn, for him. And he had to remind himself once again, that he wasn’t the only one taking a risk in this.

“You know,” he said. “When I tell you I love you, I’m not just saying the words, I really do mean it.”

Buffy sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I know,” she said. “And I mean it too. Never meant it more, in fact.”

“Me neither,” he said, sitting up beside her. “Don’t look so anxious, love. I’m the one who’s supposed to do that.”

“Do I?” She gave him a half smile and poked at a stain on the duvet. “Didn’t mean to. Do you want to make love now?”

“Not really. Thought I wanted to, but it just doesn’t feel like the right place. Think I’d like to keep these memories separate,” he said. “If that’s okay with you. No good trying to pretend they don’t exist. And covering them up isn’t going to work either.”

Buffy nodded. “I can see that. Anything you want, Will.”

It was hard to tell what she was thinking. A little pensive perhaps, anxious, but underneath it all a hint of a smile. Almost as if she was holding it back. William leaned his chin on his hands, tipping his head to study her as she continued fiddling with the quilt.

“You’ve given me my life back, do you know that?”

She shook her head, the smile broadening a little. “You just needed to realise you still had one, that’s all.”

“That’s a nice way of seeing it,” he nodded. “I didn’t scare you with the ring, did I?”

“No way, Will. I’d really love to wear your ring.” The smile was fast turning into a smirk. “Kind of like to hang on to you,” she said, and winked at him.

“Yeah?” Now he was feeling anxious again. If he did have a life he wanted it to be with her because in his mind he was already living it, but asking for what he really wanted out of this was harder than he’d thought it was going to be. “Because just now,” he went on, “You looked a bit shocked.”

“Well, perhaps I was a little,” she said, and reached out to cup the side of his face. “But it’s what I want, if that’s what you’re asking.”

William leaned into her hand, grateful as always that she had enough courage for both of them. After all his anxieties, the sex had turned out to be the easy part. It would have been simpler to lose themselves in the physical instead of having this conversation, which seemed to have taken their relationship somewhere else entirely. He still wasn’t quite sure where, but it felt as if they were going in the right direction.

Buffy was holding him and she was smiling. His mind sorted through all the possibilities, ran through the pros and cons and came down to this. She wanted him, which was the dream come true part, and she was where he wanted to be. Not here, in this lonely prison, nor anywhere where he’d have to be without her. If he went with her today then it was to stay, she’d have to know that.

“Is this everything?” She stood and surveyed the two boxes.

“Most of my stuff’s still in storage.” He stood by her wanting to go now, but feeling that he still needed her to say the final word.

“Then it’s time to get it back.” She kissed his cheek and walked across the room to the closet, opened the door and scanned the contents. His business suit was still on the floor, where he’d thrown it the day Joyce had come for him. Buffy picked up the jacket and brushed it down with her hand. “I’d like to see you in this,” she said holding it out to him.

“What, now?”

“Yes, now. Go on.”

He caught it as she threw it over and held it for a few moments, contemplating what it symbolised. Failure mainly, and a future that never happened.

She was back beside him nodding encouragement as he ran his thumb over the dark blue cloth. He’d looked good in it once, then it had looked all wrong. Now he had no idea what he was going to see when he put it on.

“Don’t be afraid to move on, Will.” She took the jacket out of his hand and held it up so that he only had to slip his arms in the sleeves. “You’re ready for this, believe me.”

It fitted him again. That was the first surprise as he stared at himself in the dingy mirror. The second was that he was yet again, seeing a new person. A strange mixture of William, Spike and someone else entirely. Buffy’s hands moved over him, adjusting his collar and smoothing down the lapels, then she stepped back, folded her arms and let him have a good look

People changed, he knew that, but the speed at which it was happening to him was making him dizzy. This new person looked as if he might eventually have enough confidence to go for what he wanted in life, and that pleased him, because it meant he hadn’t lost William completely.

There was still a slightly hard edge evident, telling anyone who cared to look that he wasn’t to be messed with. And that worried him because the anger was still there, albeit under tight control.

A new-found wisdom completed the package. The kind that comes when you’ve been badly bitten by life. When you’ve learned to be cautious and to think carefully about everything you do, because spontaneity could lead to disaster if you weren’t careful. He saw someone who’d always tread warily through life, but who wouldn’t suffer fools either. A strange combination.

“Like what you see?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Every time I look in the mirror, I see a different person. It’s kind of confusing.”

“Then let’s go home,” she said, stepping up beside him. “Settle down and start living a normal life again, with me. What do you say?”

The image changed again. With her beside him he didn’t look quite so lost, or vulnerable, or angry. He pulled her close, amazed at how she completed the picture. Alone, he’d looked like a man, but with her there he looked like a man with a purpose in life. Together they seemed to become so much more than two people standing side by side.

“I’d say I have to be the luckiest man alive,” he managed at last, when he’d swallowed down the emotion that had deposited the lump in his throat and tightened his chest. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Guess I am,” she agreed “Let’s go home?”

Still in his suit jacket, because he figured that he might as well wear it as take it off and pack it, he followed Buffy’s lead and picked up a box. Together they took them to the car and on the way back they bumped into his landlady, who was standing on the steps, her curiosity obviously having got the better of her.

“Someone’s doing okay,” she said, looking pointedly at the jacket. Or she might have been looking at Buffy, he couldn’t really tell so he smiled back, proud to have something to show off to her at last.

“Oh, this is Buffy,” he said, making the introductions. “Buffy, meet Mrs Anderson, my landlady.”

“Ahh, so this is where you’ve been all this time,” Mrs Anderson said, as she shook Buffy’s hand. “And I see she’s been feeding you.”

William felt his face heating up as Mrs Anderson told Buffy that she’d never believe how thin he was when he’d first gone to live there. And she would have kept them all morning if he hadn’t hastily brought the conversation to a conclusion by announcing that he was giving a month’s notice and ushering Buffy back into the apartment.

“Call up and see me before you go?”

“Will do.” William waved the old lady off as she turned for the stairs, then he closed the door and leaned against it, a grin forming on his face. Saying goodbye to this place was a wonderful feeling. He looked successful again, even if he didn’t quite feel it, and he had an amazing woman who loved him and a place to call home. On the downside he still had the meeting with Mandy to get through. He still hated Liam’s guts, and he needed to call his parents and eat humble pie because he’d decided to keep the money and use it to help both him and Buffy set up their respective businesses.

The grin got wider as he drove them back to the coast and basked in the infectious optimism of the moment.

Buffy joined in and it turned into laugher as they tried to outdo each other with sillier and sillier suggestions as to what he could spend his money on.

Then it turned to outright hysteria as they both remembered the foil packet they’d left under the pillow for poor Mrs Anderson to find.

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

They managed another week before Xander insisted they stop behaving like hermits and go over for a meal.

Another week of getting to know each other and understanding each other a little better. Something of an indulgence, like a honeymoon after a wedding where all you need is the one you love, although Buffy preferred to think of it as an investment in each other. And it felt different to the time they’d had before. William wasn’t a guest anymore. His books were on her shelves, his clothes in her closet. There was an electric guitar and an enormous amp in the garage. They’d moved into her gran’s old room and the spare bedroom was now stacked high with half opened boxes that he’d retrieved from storage.

Getting him to do that had taken some cajoling and even now he was taking his time about opening them, but having his things around again seemed to be doing him good. And seeing him so relaxed and stepping back into the flow of life again made Buffy glow inside.

When you’re happy, it’s hard to remember times when you weren’t. It already felt as if he’d always been there and she’d always been this content. She couldn’t remember all those nights alone or all those dinners for one.

She was already taking it all for granted.

Anya chattered on about the renovations Xander had planned for the house they’d bought, and Buffy let it wash over her, hardly taking any notice as she watched William and Xander attempting to light the barbeque in what was almost a gale force wind. She’d never felt this kind of intense satisfaction before, not even when she’d completed her favourite painting. William didn’t just look healthier on the outside, there’d been a profound change on the inside too, and part of that was due to her.

“Do you think we should just cook the steaks on the stove?”

Anya joined her at the window and looked out. “Are you kidding? Xander’s promised us a barbeque and that’s what we’ll get, if it kills him. Small matter of male pride,” she said handing Buffy a glass of wine. “Let’s leave them to it and why don’t you tell me about the wedding instead.”

“What wedding?” Buffy took the glass and sat herself at the kitchen table. “So, spill then, who’s getting married?

“You are, aren’t you?” Anya ripped open a bag of chips and poured them into a bowl which she plonked in front of Buffy before pulling out a chair opposite her. “What’s with the engagement ring if you’re not getting married?”

“Engagement ring?” Buffy held up her hand. “Oh, you mean this? It’s just a friendship ring, nothing else.”

“Real diamonds?” Anya reached over and took Buffy’s hand, crinkling up her eyes as she inspected the ring. “They are real diamonds. Buffy, you lucky thing. How did you get him to propose so soon? I’ve been dropping hints to Xander for more than a year now.”

“He didn’t, Anya.” Buffy took back her hand and glanced at the ring before hiding it self-consciously under the table. “And don’t say anything in front of him, please. It’s just a friendship ring, really it is.”

“Oh yeah?” Anya raised a sceptical eyebrow as she drank her wine. “Buffy, men don’t buy women expensive diamond rings as friendship rings, believe me. Are you sure he didn’t propose?”

“I think I might have realised it, what with being there at the time, and all,” Buffy replied, trying her best to look casual.

“So what did he say then?”

“He said, can I buy you a ring? And that’s all, Anya.” Buffy raised both hands as she saw Anya open her mouth. “Don’t complicate things further please, he needs to take things slowly and that’s what we’re doing.”

“So it didn’t cross your mind once that it was actually a proposal, but without the words?”

Anya wasn’t about to give up, that was plain, and Buffy had to admit that she was partly right in her observation. There had been a moment where Buffy really had thought he was about to propose.

“But if he’d said the words, you would have said yes?” Anya persisted.

Buffy stood and picked up the plate of steaks. “I think I’ll take these out, they’ve got to have that barbeque lit by now.”

“He’s a good catch, Buffy, despite the rape thing, which people will probably forget about in a year or two. Told Xander his parents are stinking rich. And that’s a Rolex watch he’s wearing, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” Anya motioned her back down. “No way are they going to get it lit. Come on, sit down again.”

“Okay,” Buffy relented and put the plate back down on the table. “But no more talk about William and me getting married, okay. I don’t want to push him. And I’m sure he didn’t tell Xander his parents are rich. He hardly talks about his parents.”

“Okay, maybe he said they have a business, or something. Has to make them rich, right? And you are living together, aren’t you?”

“That’s no secret.”

Anya grinned. “Six months, tops. You’ll be sending me a wedding invitation.”

“I’ll be going to yours first.”

“Ha.” Anya made a dismissive sound and popped a chip into her mouth. “We’ll be going to Liam and Cordy’s wedding before we go to mine. I really thought Xander was going to ask me this year, then he lost his eye and that was that. Not a mention.”

Her expression saddened as she chewed on another chip and Buffy would have felt sorry for her, if she hadn’t been too busy thinking about her previous comment. Liam and Cordy getting married? No way. They’d only just started dating.

“I think Xander’s afraid of commitment,” Anya continued with a resigned sigh. “And the eye thing, well, that’s just a convenient excuse to put it off.”

“Liam and Cordy are getting married?” Buffy jumped when she realised she’d said it out loud. “Did Cordy say he’d asked her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anya said, waving away the notion with a flick of her hand. “That is so not going to happen. Particularly since he’s still so stuck on you.”

“He’s what?” Buffy choked as she swallowed her wine. “I mean, he is not,” she said when she’d recovered sufficiently enough to talk. “Liam and me are ancient history. Nothing left at all there, hasn’t been for a long time.”

“Calm down, Buffy, I know you despise him for humiliating you the way he did. I was talking about him, not you.” Anya sat back, a smug expression on her face, as if she had a lot more of this juicy story to tell, but was going to make Buffy work hard for it.

“Anya, this is crazy,” Buffy said stealing a glance at the door for William., “Liam hasn’t been anywhere near me for ages. He barely speaks to me.”

“He may not speak to you, but you’re all he talks about, according to Cordy. She’s pretty mad at you. Thinks you’ve hooked up with William to make Liam jealous, or make some point, and from what she says, it seems to be working.”

“But there’s nothing between us anymore. How can she think that?”

“Maybe because he was the love of your life?”

Buffy pushed back her chair and grabbed the plate of steaks again. “Well, not any more. She’s welcome to him.” Why don’t we get this meat cooking? Feeling kind of spacey actually, too much wine on an empty stomach.”

Anya shrugged and looked at her watch. “Okay, guess it is kind of late. Shall I bring the salad? Or shall we cook outside and eat in?”

Buffy opened the door and squinted up at the sky, grateful that Anya seemed to have taken the hint and dropped the subject. “Bring the salad, looks like it’s blowing over,” she said taking in the widening slash of blue that was appearing in between the clouds. Not many days left like this, she thought as she stepped out. She’d long since learned to take any concession the weather threw at them this time of the year. Soon they’d be holed up, permanently indoors in front of blazing fires, and summer and sunshine and dining al fresco would be a distant memory.

William caught her eye as she made her way across the yard, then he remembered he had a cigarette in his mouth and hastily threw it down, crushing it underfoot. Xander looked ridiculously pleased with himself as he stood back and proudly displayed the lit barbeque.

“Oh ye of little faith,” he said, taking the plate of meat from Buffy. “And they told me it couldn’t be done.”

Buffy laughed dutifully and stared at the glowing coals.

The love of her life? Liam had certainly been that, or so she’d thought. As well as her biggest mistake.

Could she have made a more public fool of herself?

“I wanted you to be the first.”

“Glad to oblige, baby.”

“Would you just hold me for a while?”

“Best get back inside, people are gonna wonder where we’ve gone.”

The rough stone wall at her back. The sound of his zip, the clink of his belt as he put himself back together. Muffled laughter from the club. Her panties lying carelessly on the ground. The ache between her legs, and in her heart as he turned away.

“I love you Liam.”

“Don’t let’s spoil things, huh?”

“Liam?”

“Look, get yourself back inside. I’ll see you around, okay?”

They all jumped as Xander slapped the meat onto the grill with gusto, causing a plume of flame to rise impressively into the air as the hot fat caught.

Everyone except for her, that was. William had grabbed her and pulled her away and he was still holding her. Looking down at her, half laughing, half surprised that she hadn’t moved. And possibly, at the fact that she was holding him back almost painfully. The look turned to one of concern as he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. She waved her hand and shook her head discretely to let him know she was alright, and didn’t want a fuss made. Neither Xander nor Anya seemed to have noticed that she’d almost had her hair singed, and she managed to get the smile back onto her face and keep it there as they stood watching the meat cook.

The wind picked up, giving her an excuse to move closer to William and she felt his hand cover hers with a reassuring squeeze. She knew he was probably wondering what was wrong, and possibly worrying that it might be something he’d done that had made her so quiet, and she wished she could explain why she’d zoned out just then.

Damn Liam to hell. What right did he have to pass judgment on her relationships after what he’d done to her?

William stayed close, and she wanted him to. He was her life now and she needed him near to remind her of that. Needed to feel his warmth pressed against her. To remember the easy intimacy they shared. To know that if she wanted to lie in an uncoordinated heap with her head in his lap, then she could do it without asking, or feeling awkward. It was a relief to have got to the stage where they could anticipate each other’s moves and flow so easily around each other.

Later, indoors, she lay on the rug staring at her hand of cards, too drunk to remember that whiskey made usually her sick. The alcohol helped at first, relaxing her and lightening her mood so that for a while she was the life and soul of the party, all thoughts of Liam banished.

“Coffee?”

Buffy closed one eye and brought Anya into focus as she loomed above her and took orders.

“I’ll help,” she offered, pushing herself to her feet.

“Bloody right, it’s women’s work,” William said with a smirk, looking at Xander for solidarity as he pushed her up.

“Sure is,” Xander agreed and she felt him tap her lightly on the butt as she walked past him.

She gave an indignant squeal, more for effect than anything as she skipped by.

“Watch it mate.” William leaned towards him, his finger raised as if he was telling off a naughty child. He tapped his chest. “My woman, right?”

“No worries, man.” Xander swayed and raised both hands, then he fell forward in a fit of giggles.

William laughed too. No, it was a giggle, Buffy decided. Definitely a giggle.

“Because,” he continued, “I might have to call you out. You know, pistols at dawn and all that. Defend the lady’s honour.”

“Pistols at dawn, and all that?” Xander did a perfect mimic of William’s exaggerated English accent and the two of them dissolved into hysterics.

Buffy left them to it and followed Anya unsteadily to the kitchen.

“He’s very chivalry, isn’t he?”

“Chivalrous, Anya. The word is chivalrous.”

“Whatever.” Anya looked around for the coffee, staring at the jar when she found it as if she’d forgotten what it was for.

“Coffee,” Buffy reminded her.

“I wish someone would fight a duel over me.”

“He was just joking. Do you want me to put the kettle on?”

“What for?” Anya looked at her blankly.

“For the coffee, you idiot. Don’t know about you, but I need one.”

Anya sat down abruptly and held out the jar. “You make it, my legs have stopped working.”

Buffy took the jar feeling only marginally more with it than Anya looked. She was sprawled out on the kitchen table, her chin on her folded arms gazing at something, Buffy couldn’t tell what. She’d fall asleep eventually, she always did.

Getting the coffee into the cups was harder than it looked but she managed it, then she went to the bathroom while the kettle boiled. When she got back, Anya was snoring lightly and William was leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Made the coffee.”

“Thought you said it was women’s work.”

“Yeah, well I thought I’d better apologise for that. Are you okay, pet? You were a bit quiet earlier on.”

The whiskey had definitely been a bad idea. Buffy clamped a hand over her mouth as her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. William was across the room, holding her, his eyes softening in sympathy. “Want to go home love?”

His breath smelt of whiskey, and her stomach jumped again. Xander appeared and sat himself next to Anya, ruffling her hair affectionately. He’d carry Anya to bed, William would get her home. Despite all he’d drunk, he was still a lot more sober than she was which wasn’t entirely fair, but then she guessed he’d had a lot more practice than she had. And it was nice having someone to care about her. Someone she could rely on to get her home if her legs stopped working.

Their relationship was turning, subtly, into one where all the strength didn’t have to come from her any more. She sighed against him as he toyed with her hair, her stomach settling again, and the crazy notion crossed her mind that if he’d wanted to pick her up and stride manfully towards the bedroom with her at that moment, right in front of Xander and Anya, she’d have let him. One of the rare times in her life when she didn’t want to be the one in charge. Or the one pulling the strings behind the scenes. When she wanted someone to make the decisions for her and simply tell her how things should be.

There weren’t many people in the world she trusted enough to show them that side of her, but two of them were here, in this room.

Quiet descended on the kitchen as the evening wound down and with it came an overwhelming sense of peace. It was fleeting, but there was a moment when the silence was just perfect. There was nothing before and nothing after. Nothing else she wanted than to be standing there with William. She’d come to think of them as bonus moments in her life. Times that had an uncanny knack of appearing when she needed them most, and the real trick was seeing them, and appreciating them because they were so easy to miss.

And they were always and invariably short-lived.

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

“Who won?”

Anya lifted her head and pushed back her hair. She blinked a few times then rubbed her eyes. “Liam and William, fighting a duel, right? So who won?”

“That was William and me, An.” Xander hauled himself to his feet and took her hand. “Come on gorgeous, bedtime.”

She flopped loosely against him and Xander managed to get her upright in stages. William waited as Buffy took that as her cue and went for the jackets, taking his from her when she reappeared. Odd thing for Anya to suddenly say, mentioning his and Liam’s name in the same breath. It wasn’t a conversation he particularly wanted to pursue either. Buffy had jumped visibly at the mention of her ex and she still looked a little green around the gills.

“No,” Anya insisted as they trooped to the front door. “It was definitely Liam and William, you know, outside the Bronze.”

Xander looped his arm around her neck and kissed the top of her head. “Think you’ve been dreaming, sweetheart.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Yes, you have,” Xander said firmly. “Say goodbye and I’ll get you to bed, there’s a good girl.”

He gave William a small shrug by way of apology for Anya’s indiscretion and then glanced at Buffy who was looking rather surprised at the revelation.

The quiet moment they’d shared in the kitchen was well and truly over. William said his goodbyes and followed Buffy out into the damp, windy night, feeling for her hand as they set off on the short walk across town.

She evaded him for a moment while she sorted out her hair and stuffed it into the collar of her jacket to stop it blowing in her face, then buttoned up against the chill.

He left his jacket open, because he felt hot – worry did that to him. The look she gave him was a strange one as she finally let him take her hand. One he hadn’t seen from her before. They walked in a silence that wasn’t entirely comfortable, if he was reading it right, and eventually he put his arm around her waist and held her close. He did it partly to show her that he loved her and wanted to be near her, and partly too because he needed to know that she would still let him do that.

When they got to the boardwalk he slowed the brisk pace she’d set and stopped at the railing. She put her hands on the bars and gazed out at the dark, moving shape that was the sea and he stood behind her, his hands on either side of hers. The crisp, salty air cleared his head as he breathed deeply and wondered if she was going to tell him what was on her mind. It was too dark to see her expression, but she was struggling with something. He could feel it in the slight tremble fluttering over her skin that had nothing to do with the cold.

This was Buffy, who’d been the soul of understanding from that first day and hadn’t missed a beat since. She’d put her faith in him and believed in him. Held his hand when he’d needed it and let go when he found he could walk alone again. She’d shown him patience and love and he’d never be able to thank her enough for the chance she’d taken on him.

“Love you,” he whispered against her cheek. “Want to tell me what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

She didn’t mean that, he could tell by the way her whole body was begging him to ask her again.

A wave crashed close to the sea wall and he shied them both away from the spray, taking the opportunity to wrap her more tightly in his arms. She pressed back so hard against him that she trembled and he buried his face in her hair, breathing her in.

“What is it, love? Tell me, please. I didn’t fight with Liam at the Bronze, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“What happened, Will? Anya made it sound like something happened.”

“We had words, but that’s all. I should have told you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He heard the censure in her tone but also felt her thumb rubbing gently over his. Telling him that she wasn’t so mad at him.

“I’m sorry, love. Didn’t want to worry you, I guess.”

“Because you knew it would?” She twisted around so that she was facing him. “Don’t give him any excuse for a fight, Will. He’s got a mean streak in him, and I just want him out of our lives. Let’s pretend he doesn’t exist.”

“I can handle myself, Buffy. One thing I’m pretty sure of.”

“No,” she said, “I don’t want you fighting with him. Do you think we should just move away and start again? Somewhere where no-one knows us?”

“Buffy, what kind of talk is that?” he said, trying to make his tone light because she was starting to seriously worry him now. “We talked, is all. He claimed to still care about you and that made me mad, because the guy is full of shit and then good old Xander appeared.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah, stuck himself between us.” William laughed to himself at the memory. “He’s a good bloke. Bloody brave.”

“No, Liam,” she said, a wobble in her voice. “Did he say he still cared about me?”

William took her face in his hands, saw the brightness in her eyes of tears that were about to spill and his heart lurched wildly in his chest. “You’re crying?” It was a question, not a statement. For him he added silently as he started to shake. Liam still cared about her and the thought of it moved her to tears. His heart jumped again.

“Tell me,” she insisted.

“He said he still cared about you, okay, but you don’t believe him, do you?” he said, incredulously. He took a deep breath then he turned away so she couldn’t see him struggling for air. There was a bench nearby and somehow he got himself there and sat down, his elbows on his knees, head in hands.

Bloody great time for it to all fall apart, he thought as his heart raced away. The attacks had been getting easier to cope with, shorter and less frightening, but this was one straight from hell. The kind that made him think he was going to die. His head dropped further as he struggled not to do that.

“Breathe, Will.”

She was there, his beautiful life-line, kneeling on the ground in front of him. Still there, he thought with considerable relief. Still saving his life for him, when he should have been helping her. He managed a nod to let her know that he was getting it under control, because she needed him too. Tonight she needed his strength and he could do that for her, if only his heart would stop threatening to burst out of his chest.

“I’ve got it, Buffy.”

“Yeah?”

William swallowed hard. “Yeah, it’s calming down.”

“I don’t want Liam to care about me.” Buffy kept a hold of his face, making sure he was getting the message. “That’s why I was so quiet earlier. Anya said he’s been talking about me and it freaked me out. We’re over and done with. Ancient history. I don’t want him even thinking about me, Will
He let out a long, shaky breath as her words sunk in. “God, you scared the hell out of me back there,” he said. “Come up here, please?.”

They sat side by side on the bench, and when he’d got himself properly under control, he kissed her for a long time.

“It just threw me for a loop,” she said, when they broke apart. “Then Anya had to rub in how much I’d humiliated myself over him. And Cordy apparently thinks I’m stringing you along to make Liam jealous.”

“I know you’re not, love.”

“I didn’t mean to give you a panic attack.”

“Don’t have much control over those. Important thing is you’ll always be here to help me, right?”

“Of course I will.”

“And I really want this to mean something,” he said, bringing her left hand to his mouth and kissing a circle around the ring he’d brought her.

“It does Will. Anya was dead jealous.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

They lingered for a few more moments, listening to the ever changing music of the sea which he’d become so used to that he couldn’t imagine not having it there in the background pulsing away with its familiar rhythms. Then Buffy spoke.

“What does it mean?” she asked softly.

He lifted her hand again, rubbing his thumb over the polished stones. He’d insisted on real diamonds and she hadn’t put up much of a protest.

“Think I might scare you to death if you knew what was really going on in here.” He tapped his forehead then placed a flat hand over his heart. “And here. And I’m not talking panic attacks any more.”

“So, scare me,” she said.

“You want me to go down on one knee?”

“Would you?”

“I’d do anything for you, Buffy. Christ, let me do this properly.”

He managed to get himself into position, dropping down onto one knee, both his hands clasped around one of hers in the classic pose. She looked back at him, wide-eyed and expectant.

“I’m going to make a complete prat of myself now, but hell, I want to say this.” He composed himself for a moment, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing. Then he looked directly at her and ignored the group of women who’d decided to give him an audience for the most important question he’d ever ask anyone.

“I know we haven’t known each other very long and people are going to talk,” he continued. “But, you’re the one, Buffy. I just want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The words hovered between them as he waited for her reply and he saw her acceptance before he heard it. It was already there, and had been for a long while. The love she’d shown him wasn’t a dream or a mirage, it was real and these words of commitment were just a formality. At least that’s how he hoped the story would go. They were words that needed to be said, sooner or later, if they were to move forward and make a life together and he couldn’t think of a single reason for waiting.

“It’s not as impetuous as it sounds,” he said. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, believe me.”

“I can’t imagine you not being here,” she said simply.

They sealed it with a kiss as the ladies clapped and William was glad they were there to witness this. Glad that someone approved of what they were doing and that from the outside this all looked right.

Not everyone was going to like it, he knew that. In taking him on, Buffy was going to have to bear the burden of all the baggage he still carried around with him, and his reputation wasn’t going to go away overnight, if it ever did. It was always going to be a liability.

“You sure about this love?” he said. “Because I couldn’t have stayed without telling you how I feel.”

“I always meant you to stay, Will. You knew that, didn’t you?”

“I did, Buffy, but I needed to say the words and I needed to hear them from you. You know what I’m like.”

“I do,” she said, touching his cheek. “And that’s why I love you. Say the words, Will.”

“I thought I just did.” He straightened up and sat back down beside her.

“No, say the actual words so I know I’m not dreaming.”

It required a few more deep breaths. A bit more composing and when he looked up, their audience had gone. They’re missing the main event, he thought as he asked Buffy if she’d consider marrying him one day.

“I would, I will, I do. Is my answer plain enough?” she replied.

He’d never had his own personal cloud before. Never felt as if he was floating on a sea of happiness. His heart was racing, but it was anticipation, not fear that was making him so light-headed. Those deceptively simple words had packed as much of a punch as the alcohol they’d drunk, which reminded him that Buffy wasn’t entirely sober and neither was he.

“Not going to change your mind in the morning are you?” he asked, as they climbed the steps to the house.

Buffy searched her purse for the key, then turned to him. “No, I’m not. I think we were always headed this way, don’t you? We just seem to have found a shortcut.”

William took her hand as she led him inside and he remembered the first time she’d done that. She said she’d never let go and he hoped she never would. They may have taken a shortcut to get to where they were now, but they seemed to have covered an awful lot of ground.

“Need you to make love to me,” she said, sliding off her coat and throwing it at the coat-stand. It missed and she giggled. “Oops.”

William shrugged out of his jacket and dropped it to join hers.

“Guess this means we’re engaged,” she said, waving the ring in front of her eyes.

“Guess it does.” William caught her around the waist and pulled her hard against him. “Guess I could force myself to make love to you too.”

“I don’t think you’re going to have to force yourself,” she said flattening her palm over the front of his jeans “No, definitely no forcing needed.”

William sucked in a sharp breath and growled into the curve of her neck. “Want you now,” he said. “Upstairs, woman.”

“Only if you carry me, Spike.”

He stopped. “You called me Spike.”

“Did I?” Buffy leaned back, a playful smile on her lips. “Must have been the growl. Do it again.”

She wriggled and squirmed against him as he held her firm and nipped and sucked at her neck. Feeling a little reckless as what they’d done sunk in. She wanted him as much as he wanted her and she loved all of him, Spike included. Was that what she was trying to say?

She was breathtakingly beautiful with her wind-swept hair and flushed skin. Her lips slightly parted, chest heaving as she panted for air under his assault. Slender fingers already pulling his tee-shirt out of his jeans. A thoroughly modern girl who wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted, but who blended so perfectly with this old house which she loved so much.

How could he ever take her away from this? It was part of her and always would be. And he wanted it to be part of him too.

Their house, their room, their bed. She was waiting for him. Letting him know that it was okay for him to take the lead, because this house was as much his as hers now. Letting him know that it was alright for him to ask for what he wanted too.

Her eyes stayed closed as he carried her upstairs, as if she was willing to go, without question, wherever he wanted to take her. A side of her he’d never really seen before. Then he undressed her and made love to her until she whimpered and begged and screamed for both William and Spike. And afterwards she lay in his arms and thanked him.

He’d honestly thought he’d never do this again. Had spent two and a half years building a fortress around himself that he thought no woman would ever break into. But she’d done it in a matter of weeks and he hadn’t put up much resistance at all. One look at her and the walls had come tumbling down.

“I should be thanking you, love.” He brushed damp strands of hair out of her eyes and silenced her protest with a deep, tender kiss.

He’d be thanking her till the day he died.

tbc...

 

Chapter 15:

I would have been in my early thirties when I came out. It would have been as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and just snipped those years out of my life. Like I’d been picked up and spun around and when they put me down ten years would have gone, just like that.

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

Does love make someone more beautiful? Or do they just seem to be?

William clicked the next image onto the computer screen and Buffy, saucily draped across the old brass bed in Victorian underwear, smiled back at him. Or maybe it was Edwardian? He never could tell the difference. Definitely one for his wallet, he thought, as he put his hands behind his head and leaned back to enjoy the view. Nothing short of gorgeous. He shook his head and laughed to himself, wondering if he ought to check his glasses to see if they’d become mysteriously rose-tinted of late.

She seemed to get more beautiful every time he looked at her. But that was love for you. Things always seem perfect in the first flush when all you want to do is sit with your head in your hands and gaze in wonder at the object of your affection. He clicked to the next image, one of Buffy manipulated into a huge meringue of a wedding dress, then hastily moved on as she appeared at the door.

“Busy?” She walked over to him and stared at the screen. “Hey, cool. Don’t know how she does it, but Anya always manages to look the part.”

“Know what you mean, have you seen this one?”

“Oh wow, pirates and swooning maidens.”

“Only she looks as if she’s about to carry poor Xander off and ravish him.”

Buffy snorted. “I wouldn’t be surprised. And she’s so jealous of this,” she said, flashing her ring at him.

“Yeah?” William took off his glasses and folded them. “Have you told your mum yet?”

“Called her this morning. Figured she ought to be the first to know.” Buffy hitched herself up onto the edge of the desk and stared at the ring thoughtfully. “Have to say I was expecting her to be a little more surprised.”

“But she approves?” He hit save, thinking he ought to have a break before starting his next project, which was the website for Tara and Willow’s store. After a friendly argument during which he’d wanted to do if for free, they’d eventually arrived at a compromise price and, along with Buffy’s website, it would be something to put on his resume.

Buffy laughed at that. “Yeah, she approves. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she had hopes for this right from the start.”

William watched the screen darken to the familiar Windows’ jingle. “Wouldn’t put it past Joyce. She’s a hell of a lady.”

“Likes to be in control, I’ll give her that. She had to practically blackmail me into talking to you in the first place.”

“But you’re glad you did though?” William pushed back his chair, and made room for her. “Come sit here,” he said, “And tell me you love me.”

“You know I do.” Buffy said, jumping from the desk and sliding onto his lap, her head falling to rest on his shoulder.

“Just like to hear it, is all.”

“I love you, Will.”

Her lips were so close he felt them brush against his ear and a shiver ran over his skin. “What have you got planned for today then?” he asked her, trying to ignore his body’s response to the soft warmth in his arms. “Did you get your photographs?”

“Client’s just left.”

William glanced down at his watch. “What took her so long?”

“Oh, she tried on practically every costume in the house. And then she tried them all on again. But I got the commission.”

“So, what did she choose?”

Buffy grinned. “Gangster’s moll. And she wants you to be in it.”

“Me? Christ, you told her no?”

“Well of course I told her no. Said she’d seen the Bonnie and Clyde mock-up we did on the website and I think she fancied herself as Bonnie to your Clyde.”

“Absolutely no way. It’s embarrassing enough as it is.” William decided it was time to change the subject so he kissed her. Nice and slow because there was no hurry any more. No sense of urgency, because now, they had all the time in the world. Years he thought he’d never see from anywhere but the inside of a prison cell. Years full of kisses like these. “So, you going to be in the dark-room this afternoon?”

“No need, I used the digital camera. Actually, I’m going out to the airport. Wanna come? Promised someone I’d pick them up.”

William shrugged. “If you like. Who is it then?”

“Oh, just someone,” she said vaguely. Then she turned her attention to the notepad beside the computer. “This the new story?”

“Yeah, have a read, see what you think.”

Buffy picked up the pad, her eyes scanning the page, giggling as she read. “Will, that’s hilarious. We’ll have to shoot this one out on the dunes.” Her face turned serious for a moment as she put the pad back down on the desk. “You really should have done that English Lit major. You’re a natural.”

“It was a close call,” he replied, remembering the arguments there’d been over it. “Parents wanted me to follow in the family tradition, so I did computer studies instead. Couldn’t do much about it since they were paying for everything. And I suppose they were right, in a way. Writing’s a hard way to earn a living.”

Buffy nodded in agreement and he felt her fingers sifting through his hair.

“Did you call your mom?”

“They weren’t there. Out in the Far East, I think. They’ve got clients all over the world, so I never really know where they are.” It was hard not to put on his glum face when he thought of his parents. Hard not to still feel like an abandoned kid. “Sent them an e-mail. They’ll reply when they remember they have a son.”

What use was there in being bitter now, when he was an adult leading his own life? When the water had passed under the bridge long ago. He buried his face in Buffy’s shoulder and reminded himself of that. Reminded himself that the little boy who’d sat on the gate waiting and watching out for people who were never going to turn up wasn’t there any more. He was grown-up now.

“Sorry, Buffy,” he muttered into her fuzzy sweater. “Self-indulgent crap. Ignore me.”

“My dad left when I was young,” she said, and he felt her hands on him. Measured strokes designed to soothe and calm. “And there was a time when mom was hardly there.” She sighed. “It’s what parents do.”

He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes as he remembered the amount of time Joyce had spent with him preparing for the trial. Of course, he’d known she had a daughter, but he’d been drowning, and about to go under for the last time. Joyce had been his only hope and keeping him out of prison had been the most important thing for both of them.

“She talked about you a lot, if it helps.”

“You needed her, Will. I don’t begrudge you the time, now.”

“But you did then?” He kept looking at her, hoping she’d be honest with him. They couldn’t do this unless they were honest with each other. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

She gazed back at him, then placed a delicate kiss on the end of his nose. Her fingers smoothed back a strand of hair from his forehead and she leaned a little closer. Familiar gestures that that were uniquely hers and that he was still learning. He closed his eyes so he could focus on the play of her fingers over his face. She liked to linger over his scar, tracing its outline, and he parted his lips as the pad of her thumb drew a line over it. Sketching his face in her mind. When he looked, she was concentrating hard, going over every detail. So serious as she learned about him too.

“Yes, I did, back then. But we survived it. That’s the important thing.”

“When do you need to be at the airport?”

“Soon.” She lifted his wrist and read the time. “Better be going. Flight’s due in at two thirty.”

“Okay.” He stood up and let her slide down his body to her feet. He should have been working, but time spent with her was never wasted and he figured he might be useful in carrying bags or something.

Whoever it was, she seemed pretty excited about it he thought, glancing over at her as he drove on to the interstate. They hit a hold up, which got her even more agitated and by the time he’d parked, she was almost dragging him from the car.

“There it is,” she said, pointing to a plane that was just coming in to land. “Hurry, we need to be there when she comes out.”

William squinted out from the roof-top car park at the jumbo coming in to the runway, recognising the familiar British Airways tail-fin. “God, that’s a flight I know well,” he said, as he locked the car. “Calm down, love. If it’s only just landing it’ll be ages before they’re out.”

No, she wasn’t going to calm down. Made him run all the way to the terminal building and he knew the way to the arrivals point better than she did. When they got there, he went for a couple of coffees while she hopped from foot to foot and paced and glared at him when he came back.

“Where have you been?” she said. “Sit there and don’t move.”

She pointed to the row of chairs and he duly sat, wondering who it was that could have got her into such a state. They sat in silence for most of the half an hour it took for the first passengers from the flight to appear, Buffy with her head on his arm and at one point he thought she’d gone to sleep. Until she suddenly jolted him and leapt up, her eyes shining with excitement and a little nervousness too. He hadn’t noticed that before as she led him by the hand to the waiting area. Then they waited as the people started to filter through

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

Buffy sneaked a look at William’s face, while trying to contain her excitement in what she hoped was a cool exterior. He still didn’t seem to have a clue who they were meeting and she felt a stab of uncertainty as he stood waiting, arms folded for their mystery guest. But she kept her eyes on his face, because she didn’t know what the person they were waiting for looked like. He did, though. And she didn’t want to miss his expression when she arrived.

He grinned down at her when he saw her looking and bumped her lightly with his hip.

“Gonna miss them if you keep looking at me,” he said with amusement. “That’s got to be most of the plane-load. Sure they’ve not been through yet?”

“I don’t think so.” Buffy frowned at the few stragglers filtering through. One of them might have fitted the bill. She quickly glanced up at William, who stood unmoved as the old lady walked by. Where on earth is she? Buffy thought, as the doors remained firmly closed.

“Want me to go to the British Airways desk?” he offered. “Get them to check the flight list. Maybe your friend missed it, or something.”

“No,” she said, her eyes firmly on the door now. “They phoned just before they boarded. They…”

“Bloody hell.”

Buffy looked up, took in William’s expression and finally allowed herself to relax. She gave his arm a squeeze and tried to stand back to let him have this moment alone with the elegant looking woman standing in the doorway, but he was having none of it. He groped for her hand and held on tight as his eyes widened in recognition.

“Gran?”

Seeing someone you love be happy is every bit as good as being happy yourself. Possibly even better, she thought as she dropped William’s hand and let him go to her. All she had to do was bask in the glow that radiated from the two of them. William put his arms around his gran, hugging her hard and with real affection, which she returned with equal measure. Buffy could feel that too, their love and the bond they shared. Whatever William thought of his parents and his upbringing, it was clear that love was one thing he hadn’t missed out on.

His gran pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed at her eyes while William collected her luggage cart which she’d left by the door. Then she turned her attention to Buffy and a smile lit up her face.

“Mrs. Denham?”

“And you must be Buffy?”

Buffy nodded, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “Did you have a good flight?” she asked, holding out her hand.

“It’s Susan.” She held out her arms, ignoring Buffy’s outstretched hand “Come here, my dear,” she said, folding Buffy into a hug that was every bit as warm as the one she’d given her grandson. And just before she pulled away, she whispered into Buffy’s ear. “Thank you,” she said with real feeling. “For bringing him back to us. Thank you.”

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

William offered to prepare the evening meal when they got back and Buffy guessed he needed a little time out to get over the shock of seeing his gran again, so she took Susan on a guided tour of the house before offering her tea. Playing hostess in the house she associated so much with her own grandmother still felt strange to Buffy, but Susan seemed thrilled with everything. Particularly the photographs of William in the old Victorian suit.

“You must send me some copies of these,” she said putting down the silver framed photograph. “He’s so much like his grandfather.”

Buffy showed her to a chair, and smiled politely. “He said you’d bring pictures of him in his ballroom dancing suit.”

“Oh, I have, my dear. Don’t worry about that. He gets so embarrassed when I show them off, but I just don’t understand why he had to give it up. He was a natural, you know.”

Buffy had to stop herself from laughing at that. She managed it, but the twinkle in her eye at the prospect of seeing the pictures must have shown, because Susan leaned towards her with conspiratorial look. “I’ll show them to you when he’s not around.”

“I’d love to see them,” Buffy said. “Would you excuse me while I fetch the tea?”

“Of course, my dear. Would you like any help?”

“No please have a rest, you must be tired after your journey. Umm,” Buffy looked around and spotted one of their photograph albums on a side table. “Would you like to look through this while I fetch us a drink? There are quite a few of William in it.”

“Why thank you, I’d love to,” Susan replied, accepting the book. “I do so love photographs.”

William was peeling potatoes when Buffy entered the kitchen. The very picture of a new man, although Buffy sensed that he was actually hiding from his grandmother.

“Tea’s all made,” he said, without turning round. “On the tray.”

Buffy gave him a quick hug and kissed his shoulder. “Thanks.” She took in the best china and neatly arranged napkins. “No cucumber sandwiches?” she said, teasing.

“Watch it,” he warned, turning slightly pink. “Don’t want her thinking we’re barbarians just because we live in the colonies, is all.”

“It looks great, Will. You going to join us?”

“In a bit.” He stopped his peeling to plant a kiss on her cheek as she walked by with the tray. “You’d better get back, she’ll be wanting to tell you my life story.”

“She’s got the ballroom dancing pictures.”

“Oh heck.” He dropped his peeled potato into a saucepan of cold water, picked up a new one and stared at it for a while. “I just need a few moments alone, gran’s not wondering where I am, is she?”

“I think she realises that.” Buffy kissed him again. “Come join us when you’ve done?”

“Will do.”

Buffy left him attacking the potato and hurried back to the sitting room, feeling very much like a go-between and hoping that William wasn’t cross with her in any way for the surprise. Perhaps her hopes of a joyful reunion had been a tad optimistic, but they’d looked pleased to see each other, which was good.

Susan was staring at the album, her finger tracing lightly over one of the pictures. Buffy craned her neck as she put down the tray, noticing that it was the first one she’d taken of William in the Victorian suit.

“His mother was very young when she found out she was pregnant,” Susan said, without taking her eyes from the picture. “Just eighteen. My son was at Harvard, where they met. She was very ambitious and the last thing she wanted was a baby.”

So much like her own gran, Buffy thought as she watched her turn the pages. Not physically; Susan was younger and didn’t really dress like a typical grandmother, but she had that same grandmotherly aura that seemed to belong to the older generation. A wisdom that comes from having successfully brought up your own children and, perhaps, having made some of the mistakes too.

“Then she suffered from severe post-natal depression after the birth, and when I went to visit I was horrified at how little attention the poor boy was getting. So I offered to bring him back to England for a while until they’d finished their studies.” She accepted the cup of tea from Buffy and took a moment to admire the crockery before putting it down on the end table to cool. “They always meant to come for him, but the time never seemed to be right. And by then I’d grown so attached…”

Buffy nodded and sipped at her tea. William’s perception of it all had been entirely different, as probably his mother’s would be too. All of them filtered through their own personal experiences.

“He came to England just after his release. Looked terrible, poor boy. I was so afraid he was on drugs.”

It was a statement, but Buffy heard the question. The plea that his grandmother’s worst fears be unfounded.

“You really needn’t worry on that score, Mrs Denham, I mean Susan,” Buffy corrected herself. “He’d never touch drugs.”

“He’s a good boy.” She leaned back against the cushions, her lips pressed together, shaking her head. “I don’t think he realises how much we all love him.”

“He mentions you a lot.”

“Really? Oh dear, listen to me, talking too much as usual. Tell me about yourself, my dear. William says you paint.”

It wasn’t going to be as easy as Buffy had imagined. His grandmother’s pain was still evident, and there was a distance greater than miles between her and her grandson. The looks were fleeting, but Buffy had seen them. Guilt from Susan, the shuttered look from William.

But it was a start, she thought as they chatted about anything and everything. Nobody but William would really understand what he’d been through. All they could do was be there for him.

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

“You didn’t mind me inviting her, did you?”

“No, don’t worry. Was a bit of a shock, but it’s nice to see her again.” William shuffled along, making room for Buffy as he sat on the rocky shore, looking out to sea. “I don’t mind, really.”

“You don’t think it’s interfering?” Buffy sat beside him and pulled her coat around her. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Little bit. Gran gone to bed?”

“Yeah, jet-lagged.”

“And no, it’s not interfering. Me and gran, we need to talk. She’s never really understood what happened.”

“She found it hard being so far away.”

“Did she say that?” William rubbed his bare arms, shivering in the chill night air. Knowing that Buffy was right and that things needed to be re-built. He owed his gran that much.

“She loves you, Will.”

The last light went off in the house on the cliff. He liked to watch the world around him fall silent and fade into darkness. Liked it when he could see just Buffy, and nothing else. This, the two of them sitting on a rock at the edge of the sea, was a simple world that he could understand and cope with. The further he could see, the more there was to think about. And thinking was complicated.

“I know. It’s just something I have to get used to again.”

Buffy’s arm crept around his waist, and he accepted the warmth. Grateful to her for what she’d done, but unable to explain how it had knocked him back. It didn’t seem right to tell her that. But it was a path he’d have to tread at some time. And now was as good a time as any.

“There’s this horrible guilt, blame thing,” he said, leaning his head on her shoulder. “When bad things happen you look for a reason, and quite often someone to blame. And life becomes full of if onlys. If only my parents hadn’t let me go. If only gran hadn’t hung on to me the way she did. If only they’d let me study English Lit and go to Oxford like I wanted to.” He stopped for a breath, and to calm himself. Checked the lighthouse on the other side of the bay. Another of the parameters in this world he was re-building for himself. The map was slowly expanding, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to cross the ocean yet. The light blinked back at him and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them it was still there.

“I’m sure your gran feels the same way, Will.”

“I’m sure she does, but where does that leave us? I went home after they let me out, but everyone just wanted me to be normal again. To tell them everything was okay now and we could carry on from where we left off. Well, it doesn’t work like that.” The self-pity, it was coming back. He could hear it, in his voice. Feel it in the slump of his shoulders. And he didn’t want it. Not any more. “Am I ever going to be normal again?” he asked her.

“What’s normal?” she replied. “We’re all the sum of whatever got us to this point in time.” She groped for his face in the rapidly falling darkness and kissed him. “You’re doing fine,” she said. “And after this you’re going to be even stronger. Believe me.”

“I know,” he said, holding her in place so he could return the kiss. “It’s just easier to run away from it all and not make the effort. Still got my meeting with her to get through. She wants to see me next week sometime. Joyce called to tell me this morning. Wish I hadn’t agreed to it now.”

“Then don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“You don’t owe her anything, Will.”

“I know you don’t want me to go, but it’s just something I need to do. Don’t be angry with me, love, I’m doing the best I can here.” Her face was a dark shadow now and the conversation just two disembodied voices. He needed to see her expression. To see that she didn’t mean to sound so agitated when he mentioned Mandy.

“Shall we go in?”

Buffy rubbed his arm and stood up. “Come on, you’re cold. And you need to do what you think is right. But I’m never going to feel forgiveness for her the way you seem to be able to. I thought I could, but whenever I think about her, I just get so mad.” Her tone lightened. “I’m going to remain righteously outraged on your behalf, I’m afraid. But I’m not angry with you, Will. Let’s go in.”

“I’ll talk to gran tomorrow, really talk to her,” he promised, and searched his pocket for the key to the gate. Buffy waited for him while he locked up and as he glanced back at her, he knew she’d always be there, whether physically, or in his heart, it made no difference. One way or another she was there to stay. The thought made him a little dizzy as he contemplated the enormity of this thing called love. It gave him a surge of strength as they walked back through the trees to the house. He could almost feel it flowing through him where their hands joined and suddenly the need to connect with her more closely became urgent.

He wasn’t reckless any more, but tonight he wanted to be. All thoughts of patching things up with his gran and of the meeting with Mandy were banished from his mind. Tomorrow would take care of itself, and the rest of his life too. Worry about that when the time came. Right now, all he wanted was Buffy.

The key to the hot-tub cabin was on the same fob as the gate key and he felt in his pocket for it as they passed by. At the same time he twirled her round so that her back was against the door and before she could react, his mouth was on hers. She softened immediately, her hands circling his neck as he reached past her and pushed the key in the lock. It opened and they tumbled inside, still kissing, feverishly now as his arousal ignited hers.

Her legs were already around his waist when they hit the wall, lips still joined. Hungry and frantic. Backing her against the wooden planks, he abandoned himself and asked her, without words, to do the same. Asked her to stop thinking and just love him.

The room spun around, or maybe it was them? He couldn’t tell. She opened his jeans, he pushed up her skirt. Flesh pressed against flesh as she welcomed him in. She gasped, he groaned, and it was divine ecstasy as they found a rhythm that quickly brought them to a shuddering release.

They were still for a long moment, his body weight alone holding her against the wall as the world gradually came back into focus. The tension he’d been carrying released itself on a long sigh and with it went all his strength. His trembling legs gave way and the two of them slid into a heap onto the floor.

All he could hear was their panting breath as they struggled to breathe normally again, and as that happened, and they quietened down, the sound was replaced by the noises of the night filtering through the half opened door. The muffled roar of the sea, becoming louder as he accustomed his ears to it. The swish of a bird’s wing as it swooped past. A dog barking somewhere far away.

Shivers ran over his sensitised skin as first her fingers, then a light breeze caressed his bare arms and the scent of her, of them, was all around him. The world went away for a while when they did this, and when it returned it seemed somehow easier to cope with. Things were shifting and moving deep inside of him. He could almost feel the key turning in the lock. Opening the place where he kept his deepest pain. Letting it out, bit by bit.

“Thank you, love,” he whispered to her, “You’re always so bloody amazing.” Still kneeling in front of her, he kissed the top of her head, then twisted himself around so that he was sitting, legs bent, against the wall too. She draped her drowsy body against his and snuggled into his chest.

“Mmm, like it when you surprise me like that,” was all she had to say as she wriggled herself more comfortably against him.

He replied with a smile, which she probably couldn’t see and wondered how comfortable it would be if they fell asleep right here. Not very, he decided, and there was his gran to think of too. Wouldn’t do for her to wake to an empty house. “Buffy.” He nudged her gently, but she only moved closer. “Buffy, love.” He tried again and she lifted a sleepy head.

“Want to stay here,” she grumbled, circling his waist with both arms to keep him in place.

“Me too,” he said, “but we can’t. Gran, remember?”

Buffy sat up at that and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Oh yes,” she said with a small giggle. “Mustn’t let her to find us here.”

“Be a bit hard to explain,” he said, carefully zipping himself up.

She wriggled beside him as she readjusted her clothes. “I’m all sticky, want to join me in the shower?”

“Only if we’re really quiet. Don’t want to scandalise gran.” He stood up and offered her his hand, then it dawned on him what she’d just said. And what they’d forgotten to do. “Buffy, we didn’t use a condom.”

She went very still. “No, we didn’t.”

“Oh heck, I’m so sorry love. I wasn’t thinking, how the hell could I have forgotten that? We’re always so careful.” He searched for her face, framing it with his hands. “Are you…”

He didn’t get any further because Buffy’s fingers covered his mouth. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “It doesn’t really matter any more, does it?”

“Not to me, love,” he said in between kissing her fingers. He moved closer, a sudden jolt of possessiveness hitting him. It wasn’t something he’d ever felt around her before, apart from his joke with Xander. Even when he’d carried her upstairs the night she’d called him Spike. “Whatever happens, it won’t matter, doesn’t matter any more. I’m not going anywhere,” he added.

“Neither am I, Will. Just hold me for a while longer before we go back.”

They both leaned back against the wall, his arm hanging loosely over her shoulder. She’d gone on the pill, but it had only been a week, and he couldn’t remember how long it took to become effective. He opened his mouth to ask her again if she was okay with it, but she must have sensed what he was going to say because she quietened him with the sweetest kiss imaginable. Not too hard and not too soft. No hands pulling eager bodies together. Just her lips on his, simple and honest, sending a small ripple of pleasure down his spine. Restrained, yet so intimate.

And there was nothing for him to do but be still and let her hypnotise him with that sweet caress.

She pulled away, after what seemed like hours, and, still in his kiss-induced daze, he stepped out into the night with her. The house welcomed them back, the single light on the veranda like a beacon showing them the way, and when he’d unlocked the door, he let her in and followed her as far as the hall.

“Go on up,” he said. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

Buffy moved up a couple of steps so that her face was level with his and, with her hands on his shoulders, gave him one of her serious, soul-searching gazes. The kind that meant he didn’t have to explain himself any further, because she already knew what he was trying to say. He loved words, but this subtle communication in gesture and touch went way beyond anything he could say. She was teaching him that.

“Don’t be long,” she said quietly, and let him go.

A brief nod, a squeeze of the hand. The more they got to know each other, the less they needed to say. Explanations were redundant when you could say it all with a look.

William sat on the stairs, listened to the grandfather clock, and tried to remember what making love to her without a condom had been like. But all he had was the memory of the intense rush and the way he’d grabbed her and taken control. Of course he’d known, deep down, that she wouldn’t have said no, but to throw caution to the wind the way they had? It had to say something, but he couldn’t quite work out what.

Perhaps it was that he was ready to take chances again? Maybe the recklessness was just a part of him? The part of him that needed to prove himself, go that bit further than anyone else. His parents had a multi-million dollar business up and running before they were thirty. He’d always said he’d do it before he was twenty-five. To prove what? That he’d made it despite them?

He checked himself. Buffy was waiting for him and he should be there with her, not down here wallowing. Sort out the past and let it go was what he’d said to her, and if he could forgive Mandy, then he could surely forgive those who loved him?

Yes, he could do that. Clear out the clutter. It was time.

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

“Hi gran.”

“William.”

“Just like Mr. Tibbs, isn’t he?”

Susan smiled softly as they watched Napoleon make his way across the garden. “You remember him?”

“Or course I remember him. Enjoying your visit?”

“Buffy’s an absolute dear, and I couldn’t be happier for the two of you.” She turned away from the window and scrutinised him. “You’re looking well, William.”

“Better than the last time you saw me.” He managed a smile for her and pulled out a kitchen chair. “Have a seat, I’ll open a bottle of wine.”

She crossed the kitchen and sat down, her eyes never leaving him as he moved to the wine rack. “That’s an impressive wine collection, do you buy a lot?”

“No, Buffy inherited most of it. Knew how much you and granddad loved wine, so I figured I’d bring up a few for you to try.”

“That’s thoughtful of you. Your grandfather would have been in his element.”

“I’ll take you downstairs before you go, show you the racks. There’s some amazing stuff there. Probably worth a fortune.”

“Then you must get it appraised. Where’s Buffy?”

“Visiting friends, I think.” William popped the cork and poured a small amount of wine into an overlarge glass. “Here, what do you think of this one?”

She made a big show of inspecting the colour before tasting it. “Châteaux Lafite. Am I right?”

“Spot on,” he said with a grin. Picking up the bottle and a spare glass, he sat opposite her and poured them a drink each. “So, how have you been?”

“Oh, you know.” She sat for a moment, inspecting her painted nails. “I’ve missed you, love.”

“I know.” He reached out and covered her hand with his. Knowing that the conversation was turning to the hard part. “Sorry about that.”

“You left so abruptly, and then we didn’t hear anything. Did I do something to upset you?”

“Gran.” William took a breath and wondered how he could explain this without hurting her feelings. How could she possibly begin to understand something so far outside her experience? “I was upset when I came, gran. Two years in prison for a crime you didn’t commit does that to you.”

“I could see that, William. But I wanted to help. You do know that? I just didn’t know how.”

“I know,” he said. “But all I wanted to do was hide. It was, well, just really hard when I came out.” And it was still hard. Looking at her earnest face, trying to make head or tail of the mess that had been his life recently. Perhaps she blamed herself in some way too, who knew?

“I always believed you were innocent,” she went on. “But how could such a thing happen to an innocent man? What kind of monster was this girl?”

“Guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

His gran swirled the wine around her glass and held it up to the light. “This is wonderful, you shouldn’t have opened it specially for me.”

“Why not? You’re a special lady.” William held up his glass. “Come on, give us a toast. Buffy and I don’t intend leaving any of this to our children, much less our grandchildren. What shall we drink to?”

“Children, grandchildren?” His grandmother arched an eyebrow. “Please tell me you’re not going to run off to Las Vegas to get married like your parents did.”

“Damn, and there was I going to dress as Elvis. No worries gran, Buffy will want to get married here.”

There was another pause as they both thought about that. A hint of a smile played at the corners of his grandmother’s mouth as she tried not to look too excited at the prospect of the wedding. And William simply sat and contemplated the alien concept that he was about to tie the knot. Get hitched. Spend the rest of his life with that one special person. And quite possibly be a father and then a grandfather. They were both smiling broadly when they looked up.

“Bet you thought you’d never see the day, eh?”

“Don’t be silly, William,” she said with a slight hint of indignation. “I always thought you’d get married one day. And I always thought she’d be someone exceptional.”

“She is that,” he agreed. “Gran, I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know that.” She signed deeply before continuing, her eyes glazed over with tears. “I wish I could have helped more. You were just so far away.”

“I know gran. Hey…” William pushed back his chair and went to her. The gulf between them hadn’t been that wide after all. She’d never really understand it all, but she loved him and he loved her, and ultimately, that was what mattered. He crouched down and felt her hand in his hair, as she’d done when he was a child. And he knew what she was going to say.

“Your curls are back,” she said, patting his head. “I’ve always loved your curls.”

She still smelled the same, just a little too much perfume, and if he closed his eyes he could imagine himself a child again, sitting at her knee while she read to him and played idly with his hair. He could still see her standing at the local primary school gate waiting to collect him, and he still remembered how she’d cried when he’d gone away to boarding school. When his parents had arbitrarily decided to assert their rights to him, without wanting any of the responsibilities.

“Where are mum and dad?”

“Japan, I think, at least that’s where they were last week. Will you call them, William? I have their numbers with me.”

She tilted his face to her and she didn’t look so different. A few more lines around the eyes, maybe, but still the gran he remembered. It was all coming back now, at long last.

“You’re so much like your grandfather,” she said after another silence, and William thought that maybe they’d gone far enough for one day. The important thing was now he knew the way back and if he got lost, he had people to guide him and set him back on the path. And it was all beginning to look familiar again and mean something once more.

“I’m bringing Buffy to England for the honeymoon. Want to show her the house and all.”

It was exactly the right thing to say. His gran beamed down at him and he could already see her planning for their visit in her mind. He had been selfish, he thought. To abandon those who’d loved him. She might have been able to help, but he hadn’t given her the chance.

But what could he have done, when he was hurting so much he couldn’t even see the world around him, much less give a toss about anyone in it? Himself included.

He stood up and kissed his gran’s cheek. “I’ll bring her soon, then you can show her off to everyone in the village, how about that?”

“You look happy love,” she replied. “It’s wonderful to see.”

He nodded and thought about Buffy and the distance they’d travelled together. “I am, gran.” He said it again. “I really am.” And he meant every word.

Tbc…



 

Next