A/N: Okay, okay, okay. You all win. That's all I'm saying about this one. Again, thanks for all the reviews; I should have the next few chapters ready for posting soon!

Chapter 8

Amy and Will arrived at an unremarkable apartment building, and Will helped her limp up to the second floor. Every step was becoming agony, and she could see the swelling when she looked down at her feet, but she bravely bit her lip to keep from crying out.

He led the way into a small apartment, turning on the light and helping her to the couch to sit down. It was pretty tidy, with most of the mess consisting of books everywhere- closed books, open books, books with notes lying next to them on the kitchen table. "I'll go get some ibuprofen," he told her. "Go ahead and take off your coat and try to make yourself comfortable."

She did so, staring at the strange decor. Masks from all over the world hung on the walls, along with posters of every kind of place and culture imaginable. The furniture was rather standard but quite comfortable. It was the kind of place where Amy felt safe and secure. Holly and berries decorated the windowsill and there was a bit over the doorway. Odd, she thought. Christmas isn't for another three months.

Will returned with a glass of water, ibuprofen, and an ace bandage. "Can you get your shoe off?" he asked after she swallowed the pills, more than the little dosage she would take for a headache, silently urging the medicine to take effect quickly.

She reached down, untying her shoe and grimacing at the size of her ankle. It was twice the size of the uninjured one. She tried to push the shoe off, but any sort of pulling motion on her ankle was going to make it hurt like nothing else. "I'm going to need some help," she admitted.

He bent down on one knee, examining the ankle again, and grasped the shoe. "Ready?" he asked her.

Biting her lip already, she nodded. He pulled, and she winced as agony shot up her entire leg. They repeated this for her sock, and then the ankle was exposed, bruised and swollen. "I'll go get some ice," he said, standing.

"Thank you," she called after him. Really, it was awfully nice of him to bring her here. He could have taken her back to the college and told her to take care of it herself.

He brought the ice out in a big plastic bag with a towel wrapped around it. "Here. Ice your ankle for a minute, and let's see if we can get that swelling down."

She smiled thinly, but gratefully, as he helped her apply the cold to her ankle. She looked up at him, but all his attention was focused on taking care of the injury. Her hands were gentle, and she couldn't help but feel a bit flushed at the situation, just the two of them, alone... She laughed, clearing her mind of such thoughts. Will Stanton was so much more than just a man. She had seen that tonight. Why would he ever be attracted to someone as young and as foolish as she was? She was the one who had brought this injury on herself, after all.

"What's so funny?" he asked, although when his gaze met hers, she knew that he knew what she was thinking.

"I should have been more careful. I know how the weather around here gets. I should have realized there was ice. I shouldn't have been running, in the first place."

He smiled with her, and maneuvered her leg onto a pillow on the coffee table. "The Dark can get to the best of us when we're still new to it. It can get to us when we've been dealing with it for near twenty years or so, too." He sat down next to her. "Are you going to be okay?"

She nodded. "Yes. What about you? You seemed so angry back there. Why?"

A shadow passed over his face, and that impression that he was fighting with himself hit Amy again. Finally, she could see that he wasn't going to lie to her. "I was furious with them because I'm tired of seeing people I care about suffer because of the Dark." He avoided looking at her, and he suddenly seemed younger, and more vulnerable. He was not used to showing much real emotion, she realized.

She opened her mouth to reply, but she really wasn't sure what she was supposed to say. She knew that he didn't want anything to happen between them. She knew that he wanted to avoid making any sort of attachment. And she also knew that he was lonelier than any one man had a right to be.

"I'm sorry," he told her, standing. "You don't need my emotional issues on top of yours."

"Will," she said, reaching out to grab his arm. "Please."

He met her eyes, studying her face, and she did not turn away from the conflict that she saw there. "Amy, the last person who cared for me like you are starting to only ended up hurt in the end. I don't want that for you- for us. I'll admit it. I'm selfish. I don't want that responsibility."

She nodded. "I understand, I guess." She looked away, studying the posters on the wall. "What's with the holly?" she asked, changing the subject.

"It's a particular type, all the way from England. It's a protection from the Dark." He went over to the windowsill and grabbed a bunch, bringing it back to her. "If you can convince your roommate, I think your room could use some."

She accepted it gratefully, although she was a bit miffed. She felt, well, rejected, even though she really did understand his reasons. "Thank you." She looked up, startled, as the lights flickered.

Will went to the window, peering out through the blinds. He frowned, and Amy saw worry cross his face. "Looks like we're about to get one of your Wyoming blizzards," he told her. "I should get you home now, before you're stuck here all night."

Amy fought down the urge to say that she wouldn't mind that at all, but Will must have heard her thoughts, because he laughed and turned a bright red. "I'm afraid that would ruin our reputations completely, dear one."

She laughed, her tension melting away. "Everyone's already talking. Candace thinks I'm having some sort of horrible affair, and some people are starting to speculate that you're royalty in hiding."

He really laughed at that one. "Oh, my mum would love to hear that one. She's the queen of the Stantons; I don't think she wants much more than that."

Amy laughed as the lights flickered again, then sobered quickly. "What does it really look like out there?"

"Here, I'll help you," he replied, helping her to her feet and over to the window. She was grateful for his strong arms steadying her as agony shot through her ankle again. He led her over to the blinds and let her look out. Already the street was covered in white, and the wind battered the snow against all the street signs at a wild angle. Telephone lines and stoplights whipped in the wind She was willing to bet that there was a lovely layer of ice under all that snow, too. "It's not safe to drive until after the snowplows come through," she told him. Reputation or not, she had lived in Wyoming a lot longer than Will and she knew when it was dangerous.

"Are you sure?" he asked. He seemed almost nervous to have her here, like he was afraid that she would try something crazy.

She nodded glumly. "That's some serious weather." She looked at her watch. "The plows won't be through until the snow lets up or until everyone needs to get to work, probably early in the morning."

He nodded, and she could see the way that he was weighing his options. For a small moment she was afraid that he was going to insist on driving her home in this weather. "I have extra blankets," he said at last, "if you want to make yourself comfy on the couch."

"Thank you," she told him again as he helped her back to the couch. The ibuprofen was starting to kick in, making her ankle slightly numb but still throbbing.

"Let's have a look at that ankle again," he said, taking the ice away and examining the bruised leg. "The swelling's going down. I'm going to go ahead and wrap it." He set to the task with gentle hands, and Amy fought to keep herself under tight control as the lights flickered again. She hated storms where the power went out. It left her feeling exposed to the darkness. She supposed that that would be more the case tonight than ever before if there was a blackout.

"Don't worry," Will told her in a calming voice. "I have plenty of candles, and the Dark can not enter this place uninvited. We'll be fine."

She nodded, trying to believe him, but a familiar panic was starting to set in. Even in her dorm room she had the streetlights shining through the window to keep her company. She was afraid of the dark, and always had been. The lights flickered again, and this time died. Silence set in as the heater died, leaving only the sound of the howling wind. A low whimper forced its way past her control. The Dark was behind this blizzard; the Dark was really coming to get her this time....

"It's okay, Amy," he reassured her. "I'm going to go get some candles. I'm not leaving you." She heard him go into the kitchen and fumble around for a minute, and then the light of a flashlight lit up the space with eerie moving shadows. "Ah, there's my torch," she heard him say in triumph. "Now all I need is some matches."

He returned to the small living room, setting a large vanilla-colored candle on a plate on the coffee table. "This should give you plenty of light all night," he told her, lighting it. It gave off a warm and friendly glow, and she felt herself relaxing as the golden shadows played on the walls. Even the odd masks he had seemed to come alive, reassuring rather than frightening.

"The Dark is not going to get you here," he said as he went to a closet between the bathroom and his bedroom, and brought out a thick-looking blanket and a pillow still in its plastic bag. "You'll be safe here." He yawned. "I need some sleep."

She took the blanket from him gratefully, looking up at him and catching his arm again. "Will? Stay here for a few minutes? Please?"

He sat down next to her on the couch. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Anything but the Dark," she replied. "I want to hear more about England. I want to know why you won't let anyone get close to you." She yawned. "I want to know why you won't let me get close."

He smiled, but the lines on his face were clear. "I've already explained that the last person who got close to me ended up getting hurt. I don't want that to happen to you."

"Do you like me?"

He nodded, but it seemed like the admission took a lot of strength out of him. "I do, Amy. But you're so young. There are things about this world that you don't understand yet, and things about me that you can't understand. Loving me would only destroy you."

She reached out and took her hand in his, and, to her surprise, he did not pull away from her. "I'm old enough to see that you're hurting, and that you're lonely, and that I am in a position to do something about it but you won't let me."

He laughed softly, almost bitterly. "Are you falling in love with me, or with the idea of helping me?"

She didn't know how to answer that one. "Aren't they the same thing?"

"Sometimes." He reached out and pulled her close to him, holding her against the dark and the sound of the wind outside. Surprised, she let him, snuggling close to him. She felt safe there, and he smelled good. "Sometimes, Amy, it is the same thing, and sometimes it's not. I just want you to be sure about your own motives."

"I think I am," she replied, pulling the blanket over her legs. It was getting colder with the power out, without the heater, and the ice had frozen her ankle to the bone.

"You think that you're sure?" Will teased.

She laughed. "Yes. I think sometimes that's the best we ever get as humans."

"Fair enough, then." He held her there, staring off into space, lost in his own thoughts, and she yawned again, closing her eyes. Even if he only stayed until she was asleep, that was enough. She let herself relax, and soon found herself drifting in the blessed darkness of sleep.