A/N: Hope you enjoy this!

Chapter Three

William was true to his word and kept to his side of the bed for the entirety of the night. Buffy, however, was the one who proved more problematic. She had always been a restless sleeper, and the bags under William's eyes suggested that his sleep had not been particular restful, either.

"Did no one ever tell you it is rude to kick someone while you sleep?" he complained, opening the door to the carriage and helping her in.

"It was not intentional," she shot back, pulling her skirt in the carriage with a jerk. "Besides, maybe you were doing something that deserved a kick. Maybe I could sense an impure thought."

"There were no impure thoughts," he assured her. "And, you will be pleased to know, from now on we are getting lodging with two beds. Your restless feet kept me up all night."

"I didn't have the best sleep myself, either," she argued, chin held up petulantly. "You took all the covers. I was freezing."

"I had to shield myself from your feet," he said, slamming the carriage door shut. From inside he could hear her disgruntled harrumph. He climbed into the front seat of the carriage and picked up the whip, snapping it against the horse's bottom.

He should have never let her come with him. It was a foolish idea made in a moment of foolhardy interest. She had intrigued him. It wasn't a romantic notion – as he told her before, she wasn't his type. Still, there was something fascinating about her, and he didn't mind company here and there. The road became lonely, and she seemed lively enough.

It had been less than twenty four hours with the bint, though, and she was already driving him up a wall. He had thought that her convalescing with him meant she didn't have most of the silly sensibilities the female population unfortunately exhibited these days, but she proved to be just like all of them. He should have left her on the side of that road. That would have been the smart decision. But William Pratt chronically lacked in that department. He acted impulsively and then he ended up with a prissy girl in the back of his carriage. And not even one he could derive some enjoyment from.

About an hour had passed, and he was ruminating further on his poor decision skills, when two horsemen approached. He glanced behind as one came to a stop behind them and the other skirted in front, causing William to come to a sudden jerking stop.

"Oi, what the hell?" William said loudly.

A third man on horseback approached, trotting beside William, his hand laying heavily on a pistol at his hip.

"Easy, now, we mean no trouble," the third man said. William glanced between the three horsemen and thought to himself, I highly doubt that.

"What can I help you with then?"

"Well, you see, we've found ourselves in a bit of a tight spot," the third man said, eyes roving over the carriage. "You by yourself?"

William thought of Buffy asleep in the carriage and immediately said, "Just myself. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," the other maid said levelly. He sniffed loudly, hand leaving his pistol momentarily to drag over his nose. "Now, about that tight spot. Our group is heading North this week. It's a bit tapped out here, I'm sure you understand."

"I suppose," William asked warily, eyes sliding to the side to see if there was anything up front with him that he could use to defend himself. He had shoved his pistol under the seat earlier, but there was no way he could get that without drawing attention to it. All he had within reach was the horse whip, and he tightened his grip on it.

"See, the problem is our group grew. We're tight on space. That's where you come in."

William frowned, his stomach clenching. "Is that so?"

The man pulled his pistol from the holster and leveled it at William's head. "Here's the deal. Give us the carriage and no one gets hurt."

"How will I travel then?" William asked levelly. He thought that the longer he kept this guy talking the longer he had to formulate some sort of plan. There had to be something – some way to get himself out of this. He'd worked his way out of binds before. Then again, it had never been three on one with at least one gun leveled at his head.

The talking angle seemed to work as the other man laughed, pistol dipping slightly as he said, "That's really not our concern."

"Maybe leave me a horse," William continued. "Or maybe your pistol so I can try this little move on the next unassuming sap to pass by."

The man's smile hardened and he said in no uncertain terms, "Let me put it plainly. You either give me the carriage or you get a bullet between the eyes. The choice is yours."

"You know, that is an awfully lopsided ultimatum," William said, taking a glance back to see the man at his rear pointing a gun at him, too. He wasn't going to be getting out of this situation unless he did something fast. "And, might I add, this carriage is not nearly comparable with my living and breathing. The wheels are a little rickety."

"You talk too much," the man said.

"And that's not even close to my worst characteristic."

"And what's that?"

William snapped the whip at the guy in front of him, hitting him in the face, as he ducked down and yelled, "Making rash and foolish decisions!"

He grabbed the pistol from under the seat, straightening up and blindly shooting in their direction. One of them shot a round and it whizzed past his head, nearly hitting him. The third man launched himself toward William with an animalistic roar. William knocked the pistol out of his hand and drove his fist into the man's face. There was a satisfying crunch and blood poured from the man's nose like water from an open spout. Another shot was fired and William watched as the man at the front of the carriage howled in pain, the bullet entering his upper arm. A few seconds later he collapsed and fell clean off his horse. William ducked quickly before another shot was fired.

The third horseman seemed to have come to terms with the blood pouring from his nose, and instead focused his attentions again on William. He came at William ferociously, hands closing around his neck. William fought him off, dimly aware of the carriage doors opening and Buffy jumping out with her parasol at the ready. His initial thought is that she was surely going to get herself killed. A parasol was no match for a gun, particularly not when wielded by someone who looked as small as a child. His second thought was that he had to get this man off of him, as breathing was becoming quite the problem.

"You get away from my carriage!" Buffy shouted, savagely driving the edge of the parasol into the nearest horseman's side. He curled forward in pain and she raised the parasol over her head, bringing it down onto his head with a resounding thwack. After that one hit he was still conscious, but a second did the trick. Meanwhile William was struggling to get the remaining horseman off of him. The man seemed to be bolstered by the blood flowing freely from his nose, and William turned his face as it splattered on his nose and mouth. He closed his eyes tightly, plotting his next move – whatever that was – when suddenly the pressure from his neck was lifted.

He opened his eyes and was met with the horrific sight of the man staggering backwards, Buffy on his back and clawing at him. While the parasol might have been effective, her strength alone was not, and the man easily threw her from his back. He turned around, stalking toward her with his teeth bared. William didn't have much strength left, but he took what was there and pulled himself from the seat of the carriage. He came up to the man and pulled him around to face him, driving his fist into his face. He did it again and again, until his knuckles bled and he couldn't discern his own blood from the horseman's.

"William," Buffy said, taking a hold of his arm. "William, stop. You're killing him."

William pulled away, breathing heavily. The last horseman as unconscious, his face a distorted mess of blood and swelling.

"We better go," Buffy said. "There could be more."

"You're right," William said, dragging his sleeve across his mouth. His breathing had slowed down and he was beginning to think clearly again. "Come on, help me move the bodies."

Together they dragged the unconscious bodies out of the carriage's path, and then both climbed into the front seat.

"I think I'll ride here for now if you don't mine," she said, glancing at him. He shook his head, eyes travelling to the bloodstains on the bodice of her dress.

"No. I don't mind at all."

They drove in silence for a while, Buffy casting him glances now and then. It had been about five minutes of silence when she asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said immediately. "I should be asking you if you're alright."

"I wasn't the one nearly choked to death," she said, glancing at the already visible fingermarks on his neck.

"I'm fine," he repeated. He thought back on the experience and said, "You know, I thought I was seeing things when you jumped out of the carriage with that parasol."

"You did?"

He laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah, thought it was some hazy before-death-hallucination. Something to give me a laugh before I kicked it."

"That parasol is no laughing matter," she returned. "It saved both of our bottoms."

He nodded appreciatively. "Yes, it did. I must say, I did not expect you to use that as effectively as you did."

She smiled slightly. "I suppose there's a lot about me you wouldn't expect."

He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. "Is that so?"

She gave him a look and said, "We should stop somewhere and get you cleaned up."

"You too."

"Me? I'm…" she trailed off when she glanced down at her blood-stained dress. "Oh. This is the only dress I have."

"We can stop off and get you some made. I could use some new shirts, anyway."

She nodded, turning her head and watching the country pass. After a moment he cleared his throat and said, "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?" she asked, turning her head back toward him.

"I don't know if I would have gotten away from that man earlier if you hadn't jumped on him. So, thank you for that."

"Oh, well, you're welcome." He nodded and after a beat she said, "Thank you for protecting my carriage."

He laughed and said, "Oh, so it's your carriage now?"

"As long as I'm in it, yes," she held. "But don't worry, it's all yours once we reach the train station."

"Well, thank you for that assurance."

"You're very welcome."

She turned her head back toward the passing scenery and he thought to himself how wrong he had been earlier. She wasn't anything like those girls he had known. They would have cowered in the covered carriage while waiting for him to come to their rescue. Instead she jumped out wielding a parasol. He glanced over at her, momentarily distracted by the way the sunlight hit her face. He looked away quickly, returning his attention to the road.

A/N: Action! Hope you enjoyed this! I had a lot of fun writing it. Feedback is much appreciated :D