Chapter 13

"I thought this place was destroyed?"

"It was. I watched it crumble."

"Why are we here? What's coming, Spike? What's happening?"

"Don't rightly know. Been trying to suss it out."

"I don't know either. I need help."

"I need something, pet."

"What?"

Spike kicked a rock, and a large crater opened where it landed. It continued to grow, the edge creeping towards Spike's feet.

"Spike? Tell me what you need."

"I'm going to fall in. May not be able to pull myself out again."

The edge was at his toes. Buffy tackled him, forcing him to back away from the hole, buying another precious minute of time.

"I can't keep saving you!"

"I can't keep saving you."

He wrapped his arms around her, and they lay their on the dead ground, the gaping maw of blackness growing behind them. "You can do it, Buffy."

"Do what?"

"Save my life."

Buffy woke up gasping for breath, but not sobbing. She knew he was trying to talk to her, knew that there was something he needed her to do. But what? How? When he said his life, what did he mean? His literal life? His life as Spike?

Buffy stumbled through the dark into the bathroom, her stomach in her throat. She felt like puking. It had been five nights since Giles arrived, and they had poured over books, parchments, catalogues, the Internet, made phone calls, and Wes disappeared to find his Oracle.

And so far, they had nothing.

Buffy dreamt of Spike every night, and every day recounted as many of the details as she could, hoping that it would provide some clue. They listened politely, took notes, did some cross-referencing, dug for symbolism and meaning, but so far, that too had been fruitless.

Angel reported that Dorjan was still brainstorming spells. Every day he had a new one, and every one of them would have worked, according to Willow.

William grew more and more distant. Buffy tried talking to him, but as each dream and spell was revealed, his eyes dimmed. She tried to talk to him, but he didn't show any interest. He stopped watching television. He abandoned the kitchen, and no longer experimented with making breakfast.

Buffy suspected she knew what he was doing. He was preparing to die, the inevitable end was clear to him, and he didn't want it to catch him off guard. He retreated to his room with his books and poetry.

Buffy stood in the hallway, torn and unsure. She knew William was still awake—he rarely slept anymore, at least, not that she was aware of—and she desperately wanted to talk to him. She didn't know what she could possibly tell him to cheer him up. She didn't have the answers either, and a part of her had already said goodbye to him.

It seemed that Spike coming back was inevitable, and that should have made her happy. The same part of her that had already said goodbye to William was making room to welcome Spike back into her life. Each night when she woke from her dreams, she did so with a deep longing for him.


But, she felt drawn to William. Her feet carried her towards his door. She raised her fist to knock. She put it down again. She bit her lip. She gathered her nerves and tapped on the door gently. "William?"

The door was flung open, and Buffy gasped. William looked…wild, was the only word she can think of. Normally he dressed himself carefully, but his clothes looked dirty and were very wrinkled, his shirt half tucked in. His hair was flying in every direction, his pale skin flushed red, his eyes darting around erratically.

They stood staring at each other, both silent. William was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring, and arousal stirred in Buffy's belly. Without a word, William grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly into the bedroom, and slammed the door behind her. She allowed him to push her against the door, and when he claimed her mouth with a ferocity that both stunned and excited her, she responded enthusiastically.

He finally pulled back to catch his breath. Buffy opened her eyes to study his face, to see what was going on behind his veiled eyes. She wondered if he was angry with her, but before she could ask, he smiled shyly at her. Her heart melted. He looked so sweet when he smiled, especially when he ducked his head slightly, and looked up at her with those sweet blue eyes.

"Oh William," she whispered, "Why have you been hiding from me?"

"Not…been…hiding," he said between kisses.

She wrapped her arms around him. "I haven't seen you in days."

"I've been trying to stay out of your way," he answered, after another long, slow kiss.

"You won't be in the way. But I can understand if you don't want to help…This must be so hard on you, William. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, "If you want, I'll help anyway I can."

"Have you been mad at me? Is that why you've been hiding in your room?"

William kissed her forehead. "I could never be mad at you, Love. I just don't know what to do with all of your friends here. I do not enjoy crowds…"

She kissed the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his neck. "It's ok. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Why would I be uncomfortable around you, William?"

"I might make it difficult for you…when you have to make your decision."

"Look, we don't even know if I will have to make a decision at all," Buffy pointed out, rather lamely.

He ran a thumb across her cheek gently. "Yes you will, probably sooner rather than later."

"William, I wasn't lying when I said I that I could make something with you…"

"I wasn't lying when I said that I wanted you to, Buffy. But you have to follow your heart, and I can's stand in the way of that."

Buffy sighed, "That's my problem. I never know what my crazy heart wants."

"I don't believe that, Buffy."

The whole time they talked, they exchanged soft kisses, sometimes even chaste kisses, both craving contact, seeking comfort. Buffy took it up a step by trailing her fingers under his shirt, across his finger, down his stomach.

"What have you been doing in here?"

"Writing, mainly."

"Can you tell me?"

Buffy could see the conflict in his eyes, even a bit of fear. But finally, he stepped back and indicated she should sit on the bed. He rummaged through his notebook, until he found the page he wanted near the back.

He cleared his throat, and kept his eyes firmly on the paper in front of him. His heart was beating so fast he could hear it pound in his ears.

"I'm blinded by the sunlight,

Shining with intense might,

From her glorious eyes,

Whether it be day or night.

I long to kiss her skin

To hold her tight

For her to invite me in

To….I'm sorry, I can't finish this."

Buffy jumped up. "Why? Why not, William? It was beautiful."

He shook his head self-consciously. "I'm not very good, and no matter how hard I try, I can never get the words right. I lose them."

"They sounded fine to me."

William shook his head. "No, they are awful. William the Bloody…" he muttered underneath his breath.

She cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. "Don't call yourself that, William. Just, tell me how it feels. What are the right words?"

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "Absolutely beautiful. The way your eyes sparkle when you laugh, the way you taste when I kiss you, the way your hair falls around you like a silk waterfall around your creamy skin."

"Those words sound good to me."

She thread her fingers through his hair and pulled him to her lips for another kiss. It was gentle, and he tasted the words he needed on her lips. Sparkling, glowing, effulgent…

Tentatively, William allowed his hands to wander around her body. He stroked her hair, and then rubbed her back with large circles. His fingers briefly brushed against her lower back, teasing the waistband of her pajamas, but he pulled away from that, too nervous to go further.

"You can touch me."

"I know. I'm just…"

"Nervous?"

He nodded.

"Don't be," she whispered in his ear.

With newfound courage, he returned his attention to her body. He slipped his hand under the front of her shirt, and his knuckles brushed the underside of her breast. Buffy moaned in response, and William felt like he was going to come right there. It was too much, having her press her body against him, encouraging him to rub her, touch her, moaning and cooing in his ear.

"I can't do this, Buffy."

She looked up at him with questioning eyes. "Don't you want to?"

He nodded, "I do."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I just…I just can't, Buffy. Please."

She stepped away, frowning. "I don't want to make you do anything, William. I don't want to rush you into anything." She didn't understand what he was scared of, but it was clear he was terrified of something. "Maybe we should just call it a night."

"I'm sorry, Buffy."

She kissed his cheek. "Don't be. Have a good night, William."