A/N Thanks for all the reviews I had last chapter. Um...this chapter has a lot to take in - I kind of suck at angst, so if the ending is horrific, please let me know. I need constructive critisicm. R&R!

Mil

We'll Meet Again

Chapter Six

Buffy tore her lips from William's and ran into the house – her once thrilled and warm body now cold and clammy with fear. William followed quite quickly, tripping up the steps as he chased after his sweetheart, who was a flurry of floral fabric and blonde hair in her panic. She found her mother in the lounge, re-reading a letter over and over again, as if the words inked on the page didn't quick make sense to her.

"What is it, Mama?" Buffy asked worriedly, and Joyce handed the paper not to Buffy but to William, who read silently, his pulse becoming slower and slower as he absorbed the news.

To the family of William Summers,

We regret to inform you of the death of William Summers, who was killed in action on February 15th, 1942. I hope the fact that his was a noble death will console you, and we offer our greatest sympathies.

It gave the names of Billy's platoon commanders, and several majors, and it made William's heart ache to see Joyce sob uncontrollably on the settee. He couldn't hand the letter to Buffy. It was too cold, too blunt, and too impersonal. Instead he dropped the letter to the floor, and took Buffy in his arms, crying on her shoulder.

"It's Billy, isn't it?" she whispered, in his ear, and his gentle weep confirmed that it was. Buffy wrapped her arms around William and howled into his shirt, soaking his shoulder but the two were past caring. She sniffed and she sobbed, and she ran to her mother to console her. William couldn't stop his own tears. To see Buffy so distressed and hurt and miserable made him feel like his own was torn in two, and he couldn't bear it. He left the grieving mother and child curled up in each other's arms and retreated to the kitchen to make cups of tea. Nothing couldn't be solved with a good cup of tea, his mother had always said, but Will was forced to admit she could be wrong this time. He poured the scalding hot water into three mugs, and considered calling round for his mother. She was always better at these sorts of things. He couldn't pull himself together – let alone Joyce or Buffy.

He dropped a mug to the floor with a crash and held his hands up to his head in frustration. He was a man – eighteen years old – and he couldn't deal with a tragedy?

"William?" Anne said timidly. "Sit down, dear. I have something I need to tell you."

"Alright…" William replied confusedly, and he sat on the sofa, twisting his hands together nervously. "What is it, Mum?"

"I shouldn't be telling my sixteen year-old son this!" she cried, and she rocked back and forth as tears fell down her cheeks. William was at her side in an instant, soothing his mother and offering her his handkerchief. She took it gratefully, and held his hand in hers.

"What's wrong, Mum?" he tried again, his heart pounding nervously in his stomach. "Tell me! Is it Dad?"

Anne burst into another round of sobs, which alerted him to the fact that it was indeed his father. After many pauses and sniffs, Anne had informed her son that he had been killed down the mines by a toxic gas. He curled up to his mother and kissed her shoulder, the pair of them lying like that until the sun went down. In silence, the two broken hearts beating as one.

He hadn't been much use then, and he was even worse now. Buffy sat crossed-legged in the corner of the sofa, and he handed her the tea in silence, kneeling down to offer Joyce a mug too. She took it without a word, and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. Buffy's face was pale and blotched, and she stared at the wireless mindlessly, unsure of what to do. William sat by her, tending the cut he had on his hand from the broken mug. She took his hand, her cool fingers soothing his wound, and kissed it, the blood steadily dripping from it onto her lips. William moved with her handkerchief to wipe it away, and leaned in to kiss her rosebud lips clean, his tongue moving over the interior of her mouth before breaking away, and giving her hand back to her. He couldn't do this – he didn't know how to act at all in the situation. He walked silently out of the house, and hopped over the fence, before breaking down on the lawn and feeling his heart burst with Buffy's pain.

X

"Joyce, dear, you must eat," Anne pleaded with her neighbour, lifting a plate holding a sandwich in front of her face. "It'll do you good. You look awfully pale."

"Where's Elizabeth?" Joyce asked, her eyes bloodshot and watery. William glanced towards the stairs.

"In her bedroom," he answered, and Joyce took a reluctant bite of her sandwich. "She should eat," was all she said.

"Take this up to her room, William," Anne ordered, handing William another sandwich. "Her mother is right." Will looked at the stairway again. It was a female's bedroom – a domain he was usually banned from. But his mother's begging look over-ruled it, and he accepted the plate. He started up the stairs, careful not to drop the white bread sandwich.

He knocked once on her door – the bright colourful wooden letters on her door spelling out "Elizabeth" showing which room was hers – and entered. Buffy looked surprised to see him, but she smiled weakly. He handed her the plate.

"You should eat something," he said. "My mum insists."

"Your mother is kind," Buffy replied, and she smoothed her skirt and stretched her legs out across the carpet. "But I can't eat. There's a lump in my throat, and it won't go away."

William sat next to Buffy and leant against the end of her bed, closing his eyes and holding her hand.

"You don't have to eat it," he whispered softly. "We can just sit." Buffy put her head on his knees and sighed.

"You're so wonderful, Will," she said, and he wrapped a protective arm around her. "I'm a mess of knotted hair and tear-stained cheeks and you still want to be around me."

"I will always want to be around you," Will reassured her fiercely. "I know nothing will bring him back, but I want you to know I'm here. Always."

"Always?" Buffy repeated, slowly.

"Always," William said again, and he bent down to kiss her on the lips, delving deep into her mouth tenderly whilst stroking her hair and running his fingertips up and down her arm. "I love you Buffy."

Buffy blinked… once, twice, and William pulled his mouth away from hers. She pursed her lips confusedly.

"Tell me that again," she said. "Tell me that you love me."

"I love you," William said obediently.

"Again."

"I love you." She knelt beside him and kissed him firmly.

"Again," she ordered, and he did. She kissed him again and again, handing him her pain through the contact of their lips, not sure why she couldn't stop kissing him, and wondering why those three words made her feel on fire. She moved her fingers up to the collar of his shirt and undid the first few buttons, his breathing becoming shallower and her pulse quickening. She kept her mouth glued to his and climbed onto his lap, fingering the buttons of his shirt and slipping them undone before he sat shirtless and dazzled. She ran a hand down his chest, before his warm fingers caught it, and her mouth released him.

"Buffy," he said, calmly. "We have to stop."

"Why?" she asked, her eyes still closed.

"Because it's not right."