What is Choice?
Chapter Ten: So Kiss Me and Smile For Me
Buffy entered her bedroom calmly. Thankfully, Dawn had left for a babysitting job, so she wasn't there to see her sister enter the apartment and move stiffly towards her room.
She deposited the file on her bed, and methodically took off her dress and hung it up, placing her shoes in their spot on the floor within the closet. Her earrings and necklace were placed in her jewelry box, the purse laid on her dresser to be returned to Dawn in the morning.
Buffy caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, dressed only in the scant lingerie she had chosen in the wild hopes that Will would be seeing it. She stared at her hands, wringing together, and tried not to let her tears fall. She slipped into her pajamas, and sat on her bed, staring at the accordion file.
"I hope that this will all be worth it in the end, Will," she said softly. "If it's not, I'm gonna kick your ass." Despite her bravado, she knew that if anyone could hear her, they'd know how she really felt.
She leaned forward and drew the file towards her. With hands that shook only slightly, she opened the file and pulled forth the first batch of papers. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to prepare herself for what she might find.
She opened her eyes, and read the title page.
"What is Choice? By William Smythe."
Further down the page, she spotted another sentence, in smaller type. She brought the paper up to her face, so she could read it, and couldn't help the small smile that drifted across her face.
"For Buffy. To answer her questions."
She flipped the page face-down, and started reading. And she felt her heart pick up speed as she read.
**
Will sat in his car for a few moments after Buffy vanished into her building, knowing that she spotted the tears on his face but not caring. He had just put all his faith into his abilities with the written word, and her reaction to those words.
Considering how she'd taken it the last time, he wasn't sure if he wasn't dumber than a sack of hammers. Or a glutton for punishment.
Will sighed, and started his car. What he had said in the restaurant was exactly how he felt. Talking was usually so simple for him, but not this time. Not with her, not when he was trying to explain all the still-contradictatory feelings inside him. After the visit from Doyle, it was like he had been possessed. All he could think about was writing out their story. Putting down on paper all the feelings he had for Buffy, exploring all the options, and hoping that she could see how much he loved her from his words.
Perhaps it was a coward's way out. Will saw it as a way to present his feelings with few chances of bollocksing it up.
'Of course, she wanted to talk to you, wanker,' he thought to himself. 'Maybe she won't be so impressed by your pretty phrases, and just wants you to be open and honest with her by opening your mouth and just letting what you feel come out.'
Will rolled his eyes heavenwards. The insecurity that Dru had created within him raised its head at the most inopportune times. And of course, there was the natural human tendency to worry more about the ones that mattered. He sometimes pondered what would have happened if he had picked up the phone that night, instead of turning on his computer.
It was too late now to know, of course. But as he drove away, he couldn't help wondering what Buffy was feeling at this moment.
**
She read quickly, devouring his words. The writing was unlike anything she'd ever read before. It was so different from what she'd read of his first book. That one, while probably technically brilliant, seemed to maintain a bit of emotional distance. She hadn't felt very engaged in the story or the characters. Of course, that could also be because it was more like reading her diary than reading a work of fiction.
But this . . . she couldn't believe how much each word touched her heart, her soul. The language was so beautiful, full of simple truths and heart-felt emotion. Tears blurred her vision, and she found she had to pause more than once to regain control of her emotions before she could continue.
She knew that he had this all in him. She had been struck more than once by his talent with words. The way they could banter back and forth, trading quips at lightning speed, had been one of her favorite things about their relationship. The fact that she could match him, even best him, had always given her a huge burst of confidence. And those times when he would look at her, and let slip a tender phrase, or a sentence of perfect beauty, she'd always melted.
She read and read, ignoring the time as the night gave way to dawn. When she turned over the last sheet of paper, she was shocked to look at her clock and see that it was 7:30 in the morning. She yawned, but sleep was the last thing from her mind. She stood, and stretched, before padding out of her room.
In the kitchen, she found Dawn eating cereal and reading the newspaper. She looked up at Buffy. "Hey--sleep late?" Then she did a double-take, and said, "Or at all?"
Buffy shook her head, rubbing her eyes. "No, I didn't."
Dawn looked at Buffy, and when she didn't say anything further said, "So? Spill. What happened?"
Buffy sat down at the table, and looked at Dawn. "I thought we were working everything out. And then, when we kissed--"
"You kissed!" Dawn cheered.
"Don't get all excited," Buffy said brokenly. "I called him Spike."
Dawn deflated like a kid who just lost her balloon. "Oh, no."
Buffy nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I can always find a new way to mess things up."
"Buffy, no," Dawn said, reaching across the table and resting her hand over Buffy's.
"Yeah, well," Buffy said, a bit angrily, as she pulled away from Dawn. "I called him Spike, and he reacted just as you'd expect. I tried to be logical, and then I got angry and told him basically that he was an idiot but I still loved him. He didn't seem to hear that, though."
"So why the lack of sleep? I mean, you couldn't have spent all night staring at the walls in your room."
"No, I had a reason to stay up," Buffy said, running her hands through her hair. "Will gave me a book to read. A book he wrote. And it's about us-or, me and Spike, and then me and Will. About how we fell in love and how it made him feel, how it changed him and made him a better man."
Buffy stared at the tabletop, and raised eyes to Dawn that were shimmering with tears. "I don't understand him. He said I should read the book to understand, but I don't. If he can write such beautiful things, and make me feel so much, why can't he just talk to me? He's never had this problem before--he always wanted to 'chat things out' when I didn't want to. Why does he suddenly not want to talk?"
Dawn gazed at Buffy, and said, "I don't know, Buffy. After all, you know him best. In all his incarnations. Maybe that's the key to figuring this all out."
Buffy nodded. "I think you may be right. It's just a matter of being able to figure out Will, who's like Spike, but not really. Should be easy," she said, weakly.
"You'll figure it out, Buffy. After all, you love him. You'll find the right way."
Buffy let her gaze drift off into space as she let Dawn's statement roll around in her brain, like a pebble in a stream. And as she sat there, she started to develop an idea.
**
Will drove aimlessly for hours, trying to put off the inevitable. As each hour rolled over on the dashboard clock, he thought, 'An hour closer to finding out. Closer to knowing what she feels. Closer to being alone again. And it's all your fault.'
Finally, he didn't trust himself anymore, and he pulled into the parking lot at a small beach. He got out, and walked towards the sand. He didn't know why he was torturing himself like this. He was putting so much on the line, and instead of fighting, he was slinking away, hoping for the best. That wasn't like him.
He stared at the water for a moment, before sitting down. He pulled his knees up, and hugged them to his chest. The sky behind him was that dark purple that was growing lighter every moment, as the sun rose. Of course, he was looking toward the west, so the sky stayed dark even with the increasing light. It suited his mood. If he only could accept what was behind him, he could have light. Instead, he chose to face forward, and risk the dark.
"Hello."
Will looked over his shoulder, surprised to hear a voice. Standing behind him was a slim woman, with long dark hair. For a moment, he was reminded of the cheerleader that had worked with Angel, but as she took a step towards him, he realized this woman was less pretty, but more spiritual-looking. Not to mention dressed much worse--was she really wearing flip-flops with a tulle skirt?
She smiled at him, and asked in a voice tinged with a Canadian accent, "Mind if I sit down?"
Will shook his head, confused. The woman sat down next to him, and mimicked his position. They sat in silence for moments, the waves the only noise. The sky grew ever lighter, even in front of them, and Will felt a sense of peace filling him for the first time in weeks.
The woman next to him sighed, and he looked over at her. "Makes you think, doesn't it?" he said, his voice quiet.
She nodded, and smiled a little. "Whenever I feel like I don't know why I do the things I do, I come here and watch the ocean. It helps, every time."
"Yeah. Know what you mean," Will said. They stared back out at the water, and gradually, Will felt his legs straightening out, his need to stay curled up within himself receeding. He breathed deeply, taking in the saltish air, and feeling some of the sun's warmth on his back.
"There's this girl," Will said, pausing when he realized he'd started speaking. "I love her so much, but we've got a long history between us. One that wasn't very good. We . . . we had made a fresh start, and it was so good between us; it was like the past hadn't happened at all," he said, biting his lip at the omissions he had to make in talking about Buffy.
"What happened?" the woman asked, her voice tinged with a respectful curiosity.
"Well, you know what they say about 'the past coming back to haunt you'? It did, in a big way. So now we're so careful of the elephant in the room, we can't solve anything between us. And I had a chance last night, and I blew it. I gave her something I wrote and asked her to read that, instead of talking to her like she wanted." Will blew out a breath. "And now I'm scared that there's no coming back from this. That we'll continue in this pattern of being too close and too far, and never just right." He grimaced. "She's Goldilocks, and I'm always the wrong sodding bear."
The woman rested the side of her head on her knees, turning her chocolate-brown eyes on him. "Do you actually feel that way? That there's no hope?"
Will shrugged. "I'll always have hope. But hope for the two of us to work this out? That's a bit in short supply."
"I don't believe that there's ever something that you can't come back from. There's always hope," she said firmly. "It's just a matter of how much you're willing to work. How much you're willing to suffer in order to get the reward."
Will felt his anger rising a bit. "Awfully preachy of you, love. How would you know what's happened between us? Maybe I'm an abusive bastard, trying to find a way to apologize for the latest bruises. Maybe she's been cheating on me and I can't decide if I want to take the risk of it happening again. How can you advise me?"
She bore his words calmly. "Because I doubt that's the situation. You're just two normal people stumbling around as blindly as anyone else on this planet. Your past is extraordinary, I'm sure, but it's the past. It's not a matter of making a new start, it's a matter of continuing the story. Seeing if you can make the choice."
"And what choice is that, love?" he retorted testily.
She gazed at him, and made sure that his eyes were fixed on her before speaking. "The choice to suffer for love, because love is the greatest reward." She paused, and reached out to lay her fingers against his forehead. "You know that better than anyone: the fool for love that was William and Spike, but is now all Will."
When she touched him, he felt an odd jolt of clarity, like he was in the middle of an epiphany. He jerked away, surprised, and the feeling faded, grew hazy. She looked at him, her eyes seeming to know everything. He stared back at her, and then, her last words sunk in. "Huh? How did you know my name?"
Before she could say anything, his cell phone rang. Will looked down at his pockets, pulling it out and glancing back at the woman to ask her to excuse him, only to be shocked to see that she had disappeared. He gazed at the spot where she had sat, no sign that she had even been there, as his phone rang.
Finally, he snapped out of his trance and clicked the phone on. "Hello?"
"Um, hi."
He felt his heart flip when he realized who it was. "Buffy?"
"Yes, it's me. Although I don't know what to call you," she said softly, hesitantly.
"Um, Will. Still Will."
"Will," she said, her voice sounding sweeter than summer berries. "I was hoping you could come over tonight. I read the book."
"You did?" he said, feeling a wave of relief wash over him, but before he even had a chance to get used to that, his nerves started jangling.
"Yes, I did. Since I did what you asked, I thought we could talk some tonight. For once, I think I've gotten the hang of this talking thing that so many people rave about," she said, her voice bemused. Despite her attempt at levity, he couldn't help but feel that there was a layer of sadness overlying her words, making anything she said seem incredibly poignant.
He coughed, trying to speak past the lump in his throat. "Seems only fair," he said. "What time should I come over?"
"Around 8, all right?"
"That's fine," he said. He paused, not wanting to hang up quite yet. "Buffy?"
"Yes, Will?" she said, sounding like she was trying to keep her voice calm.
"I . . . " His voice trailed off, afraid of saying what he felt and not wanting to do this over the phone. "I . . . I'll see you tonight, then."
He heard her sigh softly, before saying, "Bye."
He hung up the phone, and slipped it into his pocket. He looked out towards the water one more time. The sky was completely light now, and he found he preferred it that way. Once, the dark was his world. It filled his present, his past, and his future. Now, though, the brightness of day seemed to be all he wanted.
The woman's words came back to him, talking about a choice. As he gazed at the sunlight bouncing off the waves, he realized that he knew what his choice was. She had called him a fool for love. He had thought before that he'd gotten past that, but he hadn't, not really. Not till now, because he wasn't a fool for love anymore.
He was only a man in love.
**
Buffy gazed around the living room, taking in all the details. Together with Dawn and Xander, she had spent all day preparing for tonight, and she could only hope that their preparation wasn't in vain.
Because it would hurt much too much if it was.
She checked the clock, and sighed when she realized it was nearly time. Now that the moment was here, she felt so tired. She had made herself take a nap earlier, but she was so exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the past day and a half that she wasn't sure if she was completely lucid. She had spent most of the day moving around like she was in a dream, a fairy princess asleep.
She had created the perfect setting, and she could only hope her prince charming would see it, realize what it meant, and bring her back to life with a kiss.
Buffy gazed off, her eyes unfocused, for a few moments, before the doorbell snapped her out of her trance. She took a deep breath. Dawn had gone to spend the night at Willow's, so the apartment was hers. For better or for worse, things would be settled here, tonight.
She moved towards the door, her steps quiet on the carpet. She pulled open the door, and smiled at Will. No matter what, he would always be the most handsome man she'd ever seen. So different from the type of man she thought she'd fall in love with, but he was the only one who made her believe in fate, in the idea that there really was someone that had been created just for her.
She watched his eyes take in her outfit, looking a bit puzzled at her choice. A pair of jeans, even if they were her favorite pair, and a cream-colored blouse, while attractive, wasn't exactly romantic, she knew. But there was a reason for it. A reason for every choice she'd made in shaping this evening. In this case, it was the outfit she had been wearing when she met him.
"Hello, Will," she said, standing aside so he could enter the apartment.
"Hi," he said, looking a bit nervous.
She looked down at his hands, at the bouquet of wildflowers clutched there. "Are those for me?" she asked, trying to keep her expression calm, neutral.
He followed her gaze, and realized she was talking about the flowers. "Oh, yeah." He held them out to her, and she accepted them. Carrying them into the kitchen, she pulled a vase out of a cabinet, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers in them. She came back to the hallway, carrying the vase, and said to Will, "Follow me," as she walked towards the living room.
Buffy felt her breath speed up as she entered the living room. With Xander's help, she had moved most of her furniture out of the living room, leaving only a beat-up chair and an old loveseat that she had picked up at Goodwill that morning. The television was sitting on a small stand in a corner near the chair, while a long table ran along one side of the room. The windows were draped in gauzy white fabric that made the moonlight shining through seem even more etheral.
And lighting the room were dozens of candles. The light flickered, casting shadows on the walls and giving a golden glow. Buffy moved into the room and placed the flowers on the table. She nodded, and said, "Yes, this looks right."
She turned, and saw that Will was still standing in the doorway, looking around in surprise and disbelief. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally said, "It's . . . you recreated the . . . ?"
Buffy nodded. "The crypt, yes."
Will stared at her, dumbstruck. "Why?"
"Lots of reasons, actually," she said, sitting down on the loveseat. "Would you like to sit down?"
He didn't move for a moment, and then he shook himself, as if he couldn't believe the turn of events. But he moved, and sat down on the chair. He rested his hands on his knees, still looking around the room.
"Will?" she said, feeling scared that she had lost him. That he wasn't going to understand what she wanted to say, prefering to see the surroundings and decide that she wanted Spike. But that couldn't be further from the truth. Because she just wanted him. Will, and Spike, and even the very small bits that she guessed were William. They were all there, but you couldn't separate some things and call them Spike, or say that some quirk was the William coming out in him. If you did that, you'd just have less of a person, and that was the last thing she wanted.
"Will?" she said again, finally getting his attention. He looked at her, confusion and a little anger in his gaze. She took a deep breath, and started talking. "You think that I want Spike, correct?"
He nodded, silently.
"Well, in some ways, I do want Spike." She held up her hand, cutting him off before he started speaking. "Let me say this, all right?" He grimaced, but sat back in the chair.
She continued. "Like I said, in some ways, I do want Spike. You probably think that he's your courage, your sex appeal, that little tinge of danger that I want, right?" He nodded, and she smiled at him. "Well, those were things that Spike had, yes. But they're also things Will has. That you have. I saw all that in you the first time I saw you, standing on the doorstep of Rich's house. I knew that here was a man who was a little dangerous, but it was the good kind of dangerous. And I wanted that."
She gazed at the floor for a moment. "You think I want Spike. You think that Will isn't enough for me. What if I'm worrying about the same thing?" She looked up at Will, and saw the confusion on his face. "What if I'm worried that you want the other Buffy?" she explained.
Will's eyebrows shot up. "What? Oh, love, I just want you."
"Then why don't you believe me, when I say the same thing?" she asked, sadly. "Is it because of what happened to us before? You think I'm never going to love you; that you're always going to be left out in the cold, wanting me, loving me no matter what, while I keep using you because I'm 'not ready for you not to be here'," she said, repeating her words to him.
She gripped her hands, trying to keep her thoughts straight, trying not to just break down. She had to see this through. "I don't like the Buffy I was before. I don't see much that was admirable in her. But you do--you loved that Buffy. And that Buffy loved you. She may have waited till the absolutely last moment to tell you, but she did. For months before she told you."
Buffy took ahold of her courage one more time, and raised her eyes to his. His face was like an open book to her. Love was shining out of his eyes, as well as a good dose of fear and sadness. "She loved you when she came to you in your crypt, that last time before it was destroyed. But she couldn't make the choice to love you openly, and she suffered for it. And what she suffered, you suffered ten times more."
Buffy rose from her seat, and took the two steps towards his chair, and kneeled in front of him. He leaned forward, his face close to hers. She sniffed, and ran her fingers through his hair. "She loved you then. Just like I love you now. And it's not because you remind me of Spike, or that I'm trying to recreate something that didn't get a chance to exist. I made my apartment into the crypt, because we had to spend some time there. We never really got a chance to finish things before as Buffy and Spike."
She reached out, and took his hands in hers. She stood, and pulled him to his feet. She looked up at him, and she knew that her heart was in her eyes. "Tell me you love me?" she said, hoping he'd remember. Hoping he'd follow her lead.
He gazed at her, and she bit her lip, feeling each second pass as slowly as a century. Finally, he said, "I love you."
She nearly closed her eyes in relief, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on him, forced herself to follow her plan. "Tell me you want me?"
"I always want you," he breathed out.
In the memory, she had pulled him onto a sarcophogus, kissing and removing clothes. This time, she looked down at his hands, still held in hers, and said, "Now you."
She looked up, and he was ready. "Tell me you love me," he said, his voice sounding choked with emotion.
She smiled up at him. "I love you."
He smiled back, before he made his face serious. "Tell me you want me?" he said, his voice wistful.
"I always want you," she said, running her thumb over his hand. She sighed, knowing that one of the hard parts was over.
"Your book told me a lot about how you felt. And I knew there was no way I could top that. But I wanted to show you that I felt as much as you did. When I called you Spike, I know it must have seemed like a slap in the face," she said, glancing up at him. "So I get why you gave me the book to read. Whether you're Spike or Will, you love me, right?"
Will nodded, resting his forehead against hers. At the contact, she nearly started crying, but managed to hold back her tears once again. "Well," she sniffed, "I feel the same way. So I think we're done here, so we can get out of here."
He looked at her. "What do you mean?" She didn't answer, merely pulling him after her to her bedroom. She opened the door, and drew him inside.
There were candles here, too, but fewer of them. Buffy's bed was covered in soft sheets, and there was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket next to two glasses. Will took a step away from her, and dropped her hand. He looked around, and said, "It looks beautiful, love." But his voice seemed tired, and he sat down on the bed, looking dazed.
She frowned, feeling her fear rising up. He had followed her lead, yes, but she had hardly let him get a word in edgewise. Had she been so confident of his feelings, after reading the book, that she had misjudged things? She sat down next to him on the bed, not touching him.
"I've been talking so much tonight, because I thought the book was your talking. Please tell me I haven't been wrong tonight," she said, staring forward, unable to look at him.
She felt his hand settle on top of hers, where it was resting on her leg. She felt her eyes pulled towards their hands as he started speaking.
"I'm just a little overwhelmed. No one has ever done anything like this for me. You're the only person who's ever worked so hard to convince me that she loves me--all of me. The parts that I don't like, the parts that embarrass me, the parts that make me who I am." His voice choked. "It's not something I'm used to. But I think my brain's gotten the message."
His hand reached around, and tilted her chin up, making her look at him. He rested his hand on her cheek, and once again, his forehead rested against hers. "Oh, Buffy, I love you so damn much, because I know that you love me just as much. You're so amazing, and I want to spend the rest of my life proving that I love you. Spike might have loved the old Buffy, and the old Buffy might have loved Spike, but it's a drop in the bucket to how it's gonna be when you and I love each other."
Buffy sighed, slumping towards him with relief at his words, feeling like her happiness was so great, she couldn't possibly contain it within her body. So she kissed him, because together, the two of them could hold their joy and love as it filled up their bodies and their souls. Their kisses were deep, their hands touching each other with reverance, and she giddily thought that she could taste his soul in his kiss.
They paused for breath, and she said, "Love you so much," as she wiped at the tears that had started falling from her eyes. He grinned at her, and leaned forward to start kissing each tear off her cheeks. Each time his lips pulled away from her face, he said, "Love you." He moved around her face, kissing her, and Buffy could only wrap her arms around him.
As they laid back on the bed, kissing and touching, she couldn't help saying, "Well, this is some answer you're giving me, Will," feeling giddy with joy.
Will smirked at her. "Just wait till I ask you the question I've been wanting to ask you for forever. But that'll have to wait . . ." he said, his voice trailing off as he kissed her neck. He groaned, and said, "Oh, God, how could I think that I could live without you?"
She ran her hands over his back, and wiggled down until she could face him. "I can't believe we made it here. Who would have expected it?" she asked rhetorically, wrapping her leg around his waist.
He pulled her against him, and said, between kisses, "No one, love. Guess we chose to make our own fate."
End, Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten: So Kiss Me and Smile For Me
Buffy entered her bedroom calmly. Thankfully, Dawn had left for a babysitting job, so she wasn't there to see her sister enter the apartment and move stiffly towards her room.
She deposited the file on her bed, and methodically took off her dress and hung it up, placing her shoes in their spot on the floor within the closet. Her earrings and necklace were placed in her jewelry box, the purse laid on her dresser to be returned to Dawn in the morning.
Buffy caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, dressed only in the scant lingerie she had chosen in the wild hopes that Will would be seeing it. She stared at her hands, wringing together, and tried not to let her tears fall. She slipped into her pajamas, and sat on her bed, staring at the accordion file.
"I hope that this will all be worth it in the end, Will," she said softly. "If it's not, I'm gonna kick your ass." Despite her bravado, she knew that if anyone could hear her, they'd know how she really felt.
She leaned forward and drew the file towards her. With hands that shook only slightly, she opened the file and pulled forth the first batch of papers. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to prepare herself for what she might find.
She opened her eyes, and read the title page.
"What is Choice? By William Smythe."
Further down the page, she spotted another sentence, in smaller type. She brought the paper up to her face, so she could read it, and couldn't help the small smile that drifted across her face.
"For Buffy. To answer her questions."
She flipped the page face-down, and started reading. And she felt her heart pick up speed as she read.
**
Will sat in his car for a few moments after Buffy vanished into her building, knowing that she spotted the tears on his face but not caring. He had just put all his faith into his abilities with the written word, and her reaction to those words.
Considering how she'd taken it the last time, he wasn't sure if he wasn't dumber than a sack of hammers. Or a glutton for punishment.
Will sighed, and started his car. What he had said in the restaurant was exactly how he felt. Talking was usually so simple for him, but not this time. Not with her, not when he was trying to explain all the still-contradictatory feelings inside him. After the visit from Doyle, it was like he had been possessed. All he could think about was writing out their story. Putting down on paper all the feelings he had for Buffy, exploring all the options, and hoping that she could see how much he loved her from his words.
Perhaps it was a coward's way out. Will saw it as a way to present his feelings with few chances of bollocksing it up.
'Of course, she wanted to talk to you, wanker,' he thought to himself. 'Maybe she won't be so impressed by your pretty phrases, and just wants you to be open and honest with her by opening your mouth and just letting what you feel come out.'
Will rolled his eyes heavenwards. The insecurity that Dru had created within him raised its head at the most inopportune times. And of course, there was the natural human tendency to worry more about the ones that mattered. He sometimes pondered what would have happened if he had picked up the phone that night, instead of turning on his computer.
It was too late now to know, of course. But as he drove away, he couldn't help wondering what Buffy was feeling at this moment.
**
She read quickly, devouring his words. The writing was unlike anything she'd ever read before. It was so different from what she'd read of his first book. That one, while probably technically brilliant, seemed to maintain a bit of emotional distance. She hadn't felt very engaged in the story or the characters. Of course, that could also be because it was more like reading her diary than reading a work of fiction.
But this . . . she couldn't believe how much each word touched her heart, her soul. The language was so beautiful, full of simple truths and heart-felt emotion. Tears blurred her vision, and she found she had to pause more than once to regain control of her emotions before she could continue.
She knew that he had this all in him. She had been struck more than once by his talent with words. The way they could banter back and forth, trading quips at lightning speed, had been one of her favorite things about their relationship. The fact that she could match him, even best him, had always given her a huge burst of confidence. And those times when he would look at her, and let slip a tender phrase, or a sentence of perfect beauty, she'd always melted.
She read and read, ignoring the time as the night gave way to dawn. When she turned over the last sheet of paper, she was shocked to look at her clock and see that it was 7:30 in the morning. She yawned, but sleep was the last thing from her mind. She stood, and stretched, before padding out of her room.
In the kitchen, she found Dawn eating cereal and reading the newspaper. She looked up at Buffy. "Hey--sleep late?" Then she did a double-take, and said, "Or at all?"
Buffy shook her head, rubbing her eyes. "No, I didn't."
Dawn looked at Buffy, and when she didn't say anything further said, "So? Spill. What happened?"
Buffy sat down at the table, and looked at Dawn. "I thought we were working everything out. And then, when we kissed--"
"You kissed!" Dawn cheered.
"Don't get all excited," Buffy said brokenly. "I called him Spike."
Dawn deflated like a kid who just lost her balloon. "Oh, no."
Buffy nodded, her eyes filling with tears. "I can always find a new way to mess things up."
"Buffy, no," Dawn said, reaching across the table and resting her hand over Buffy's.
"Yeah, well," Buffy said, a bit angrily, as she pulled away from Dawn. "I called him Spike, and he reacted just as you'd expect. I tried to be logical, and then I got angry and told him basically that he was an idiot but I still loved him. He didn't seem to hear that, though."
"So why the lack of sleep? I mean, you couldn't have spent all night staring at the walls in your room."
"No, I had a reason to stay up," Buffy said, running her hands through her hair. "Will gave me a book to read. A book he wrote. And it's about us-or, me and Spike, and then me and Will. About how we fell in love and how it made him feel, how it changed him and made him a better man."
Buffy stared at the tabletop, and raised eyes to Dawn that were shimmering with tears. "I don't understand him. He said I should read the book to understand, but I don't. If he can write such beautiful things, and make me feel so much, why can't he just talk to me? He's never had this problem before--he always wanted to 'chat things out' when I didn't want to. Why does he suddenly not want to talk?"
Dawn gazed at Buffy, and said, "I don't know, Buffy. After all, you know him best. In all his incarnations. Maybe that's the key to figuring this all out."
Buffy nodded. "I think you may be right. It's just a matter of being able to figure out Will, who's like Spike, but not really. Should be easy," she said, weakly.
"You'll figure it out, Buffy. After all, you love him. You'll find the right way."
Buffy let her gaze drift off into space as she let Dawn's statement roll around in her brain, like a pebble in a stream. And as she sat there, she started to develop an idea.
**
Will drove aimlessly for hours, trying to put off the inevitable. As each hour rolled over on the dashboard clock, he thought, 'An hour closer to finding out. Closer to knowing what she feels. Closer to being alone again. And it's all your fault.'
Finally, he didn't trust himself anymore, and he pulled into the parking lot at a small beach. He got out, and walked towards the sand. He didn't know why he was torturing himself like this. He was putting so much on the line, and instead of fighting, he was slinking away, hoping for the best. That wasn't like him.
He stared at the water for a moment, before sitting down. He pulled his knees up, and hugged them to his chest. The sky behind him was that dark purple that was growing lighter every moment, as the sun rose. Of course, he was looking toward the west, so the sky stayed dark even with the increasing light. It suited his mood. If he only could accept what was behind him, he could have light. Instead, he chose to face forward, and risk the dark.
"Hello."
Will looked over his shoulder, surprised to hear a voice. Standing behind him was a slim woman, with long dark hair. For a moment, he was reminded of the cheerleader that had worked with Angel, but as she took a step towards him, he realized this woman was less pretty, but more spiritual-looking. Not to mention dressed much worse--was she really wearing flip-flops with a tulle skirt?
She smiled at him, and asked in a voice tinged with a Canadian accent, "Mind if I sit down?"
Will shook his head, confused. The woman sat down next to him, and mimicked his position. They sat in silence for moments, the waves the only noise. The sky grew ever lighter, even in front of them, and Will felt a sense of peace filling him for the first time in weeks.
The woman next to him sighed, and he looked over at her. "Makes you think, doesn't it?" he said, his voice quiet.
She nodded, and smiled a little. "Whenever I feel like I don't know why I do the things I do, I come here and watch the ocean. It helps, every time."
"Yeah. Know what you mean," Will said. They stared back out at the water, and gradually, Will felt his legs straightening out, his need to stay curled up within himself receeding. He breathed deeply, taking in the saltish air, and feeling some of the sun's warmth on his back.
"There's this girl," Will said, pausing when he realized he'd started speaking. "I love her so much, but we've got a long history between us. One that wasn't very good. We . . . we had made a fresh start, and it was so good between us; it was like the past hadn't happened at all," he said, biting his lip at the omissions he had to make in talking about Buffy.
"What happened?" the woman asked, her voice tinged with a respectful curiosity.
"Well, you know what they say about 'the past coming back to haunt you'? It did, in a big way. So now we're so careful of the elephant in the room, we can't solve anything between us. And I had a chance last night, and I blew it. I gave her something I wrote and asked her to read that, instead of talking to her like she wanted." Will blew out a breath. "And now I'm scared that there's no coming back from this. That we'll continue in this pattern of being too close and too far, and never just right." He grimaced. "She's Goldilocks, and I'm always the wrong sodding bear."
The woman rested the side of her head on her knees, turning her chocolate-brown eyes on him. "Do you actually feel that way? That there's no hope?"
Will shrugged. "I'll always have hope. But hope for the two of us to work this out? That's a bit in short supply."
"I don't believe that there's ever something that you can't come back from. There's always hope," she said firmly. "It's just a matter of how much you're willing to work. How much you're willing to suffer in order to get the reward."
Will felt his anger rising a bit. "Awfully preachy of you, love. How would you know what's happened between us? Maybe I'm an abusive bastard, trying to find a way to apologize for the latest bruises. Maybe she's been cheating on me and I can't decide if I want to take the risk of it happening again. How can you advise me?"
She bore his words calmly. "Because I doubt that's the situation. You're just two normal people stumbling around as blindly as anyone else on this planet. Your past is extraordinary, I'm sure, but it's the past. It's not a matter of making a new start, it's a matter of continuing the story. Seeing if you can make the choice."
"And what choice is that, love?" he retorted testily.
She gazed at him, and made sure that his eyes were fixed on her before speaking. "The choice to suffer for love, because love is the greatest reward." She paused, and reached out to lay her fingers against his forehead. "You know that better than anyone: the fool for love that was William and Spike, but is now all Will."
When she touched him, he felt an odd jolt of clarity, like he was in the middle of an epiphany. He jerked away, surprised, and the feeling faded, grew hazy. She looked at him, her eyes seeming to know everything. He stared back at her, and then, her last words sunk in. "Huh? How did you know my name?"
Before she could say anything, his cell phone rang. Will looked down at his pockets, pulling it out and glancing back at the woman to ask her to excuse him, only to be shocked to see that she had disappeared. He gazed at the spot where she had sat, no sign that she had even been there, as his phone rang.
Finally, he snapped out of his trance and clicked the phone on. "Hello?"
"Um, hi."
He felt his heart flip when he realized who it was. "Buffy?"
"Yes, it's me. Although I don't know what to call you," she said softly, hesitantly.
"Um, Will. Still Will."
"Will," she said, her voice sounding sweeter than summer berries. "I was hoping you could come over tonight. I read the book."
"You did?" he said, feeling a wave of relief wash over him, but before he even had a chance to get used to that, his nerves started jangling.
"Yes, I did. Since I did what you asked, I thought we could talk some tonight. For once, I think I've gotten the hang of this talking thing that so many people rave about," she said, her voice bemused. Despite her attempt at levity, he couldn't help but feel that there was a layer of sadness overlying her words, making anything she said seem incredibly poignant.
He coughed, trying to speak past the lump in his throat. "Seems only fair," he said. "What time should I come over?"
"Around 8, all right?"
"That's fine," he said. He paused, not wanting to hang up quite yet. "Buffy?"
"Yes, Will?" she said, sounding like she was trying to keep her voice calm.
"I . . . " His voice trailed off, afraid of saying what he felt and not wanting to do this over the phone. "I . . . I'll see you tonight, then."
He heard her sigh softly, before saying, "Bye."
He hung up the phone, and slipped it into his pocket. He looked out towards the water one more time. The sky was completely light now, and he found he preferred it that way. Once, the dark was his world. It filled his present, his past, and his future. Now, though, the brightness of day seemed to be all he wanted.
The woman's words came back to him, talking about a choice. As he gazed at the sunlight bouncing off the waves, he realized that he knew what his choice was. She had called him a fool for love. He had thought before that he'd gotten past that, but he hadn't, not really. Not till now, because he wasn't a fool for love anymore.
He was only a man in love.
**
Buffy gazed around the living room, taking in all the details. Together with Dawn and Xander, she had spent all day preparing for tonight, and she could only hope that their preparation wasn't in vain.
Because it would hurt much too much if it was.
She checked the clock, and sighed when she realized it was nearly time. Now that the moment was here, she felt so tired. She had made herself take a nap earlier, but she was so exhausted from the emotional upheaval of the past day and a half that she wasn't sure if she was completely lucid. She had spent most of the day moving around like she was in a dream, a fairy princess asleep.
She had created the perfect setting, and she could only hope her prince charming would see it, realize what it meant, and bring her back to life with a kiss.
Buffy gazed off, her eyes unfocused, for a few moments, before the doorbell snapped her out of her trance. She took a deep breath. Dawn had gone to spend the night at Willow's, so the apartment was hers. For better or for worse, things would be settled here, tonight.
She moved towards the door, her steps quiet on the carpet. She pulled open the door, and smiled at Will. No matter what, he would always be the most handsome man she'd ever seen. So different from the type of man she thought she'd fall in love with, but he was the only one who made her believe in fate, in the idea that there really was someone that had been created just for her.
She watched his eyes take in her outfit, looking a bit puzzled at her choice. A pair of jeans, even if they were her favorite pair, and a cream-colored blouse, while attractive, wasn't exactly romantic, she knew. But there was a reason for it. A reason for every choice she'd made in shaping this evening. In this case, it was the outfit she had been wearing when she met him.
"Hello, Will," she said, standing aside so he could enter the apartment.
"Hi," he said, looking a bit nervous.
She looked down at his hands, at the bouquet of wildflowers clutched there. "Are those for me?" she asked, trying to keep her expression calm, neutral.
He followed her gaze, and realized she was talking about the flowers. "Oh, yeah." He held them out to her, and she accepted them. Carrying them into the kitchen, she pulled a vase out of a cabinet, filled it with water, and arranged the flowers in them. She came back to the hallway, carrying the vase, and said to Will, "Follow me," as she walked towards the living room.
Buffy felt her breath speed up as she entered the living room. With Xander's help, she had moved most of her furniture out of the living room, leaving only a beat-up chair and an old loveseat that she had picked up at Goodwill that morning. The television was sitting on a small stand in a corner near the chair, while a long table ran along one side of the room. The windows were draped in gauzy white fabric that made the moonlight shining through seem even more etheral.
And lighting the room were dozens of candles. The light flickered, casting shadows on the walls and giving a golden glow. Buffy moved into the room and placed the flowers on the table. She nodded, and said, "Yes, this looks right."
She turned, and saw that Will was still standing in the doorway, looking around in surprise and disbelief. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, and finally said, "It's . . . you recreated the . . . ?"
Buffy nodded. "The crypt, yes."
Will stared at her, dumbstruck. "Why?"
"Lots of reasons, actually," she said, sitting down on the loveseat. "Would you like to sit down?"
He didn't move for a moment, and then he shook himself, as if he couldn't believe the turn of events. But he moved, and sat down on the chair. He rested his hands on his knees, still looking around the room.
"Will?" she said, feeling scared that she had lost him. That he wasn't going to understand what she wanted to say, prefering to see the surroundings and decide that she wanted Spike. But that couldn't be further from the truth. Because she just wanted him. Will, and Spike, and even the very small bits that she guessed were William. They were all there, but you couldn't separate some things and call them Spike, or say that some quirk was the William coming out in him. If you did that, you'd just have less of a person, and that was the last thing she wanted.
"Will?" she said again, finally getting his attention. He looked at her, confusion and a little anger in his gaze. She took a deep breath, and started talking. "You think that I want Spike, correct?"
He nodded, silently.
"Well, in some ways, I do want Spike." She held up her hand, cutting him off before he started speaking. "Let me say this, all right?" He grimaced, but sat back in the chair.
She continued. "Like I said, in some ways, I do want Spike. You probably think that he's your courage, your sex appeal, that little tinge of danger that I want, right?" He nodded, and she smiled at him. "Well, those were things that Spike had, yes. But they're also things Will has. That you have. I saw all that in you the first time I saw you, standing on the doorstep of Rich's house. I knew that here was a man who was a little dangerous, but it was the good kind of dangerous. And I wanted that."
She gazed at the floor for a moment. "You think I want Spike. You think that Will isn't enough for me. What if I'm worrying about the same thing?" She looked up at Will, and saw the confusion on his face. "What if I'm worried that you want the other Buffy?" she explained.
Will's eyebrows shot up. "What? Oh, love, I just want you."
"Then why don't you believe me, when I say the same thing?" she asked, sadly. "Is it because of what happened to us before? You think I'm never going to love you; that you're always going to be left out in the cold, wanting me, loving me no matter what, while I keep using you because I'm 'not ready for you not to be here'," she said, repeating her words to him.
She gripped her hands, trying to keep her thoughts straight, trying not to just break down. She had to see this through. "I don't like the Buffy I was before. I don't see much that was admirable in her. But you do--you loved that Buffy. And that Buffy loved you. She may have waited till the absolutely last moment to tell you, but she did. For months before she told you."
Buffy took ahold of her courage one more time, and raised her eyes to his. His face was like an open book to her. Love was shining out of his eyes, as well as a good dose of fear and sadness. "She loved you when she came to you in your crypt, that last time before it was destroyed. But she couldn't make the choice to love you openly, and she suffered for it. And what she suffered, you suffered ten times more."
Buffy rose from her seat, and took the two steps towards his chair, and kneeled in front of him. He leaned forward, his face close to hers. She sniffed, and ran her fingers through his hair. "She loved you then. Just like I love you now. And it's not because you remind me of Spike, or that I'm trying to recreate something that didn't get a chance to exist. I made my apartment into the crypt, because we had to spend some time there. We never really got a chance to finish things before as Buffy and Spike."
She reached out, and took his hands in hers. She stood, and pulled him to his feet. She looked up at him, and she knew that her heart was in her eyes. "Tell me you love me?" she said, hoping he'd remember. Hoping he'd follow her lead.
He gazed at her, and she bit her lip, feeling each second pass as slowly as a century. Finally, he said, "I love you."
She nearly closed her eyes in relief, but she forced herself to keep her eyes on him, forced herself to follow her plan. "Tell me you want me?"
"I always want you," he breathed out.
In the memory, she had pulled him onto a sarcophogus, kissing and removing clothes. This time, she looked down at his hands, still held in hers, and said, "Now you."
She looked up, and he was ready. "Tell me you love me," he said, his voice sounding choked with emotion.
She smiled up at him. "I love you."
He smiled back, before he made his face serious. "Tell me you want me?" he said, his voice wistful.
"I always want you," she said, running her thumb over his hand. She sighed, knowing that one of the hard parts was over.
"Your book told me a lot about how you felt. And I knew there was no way I could top that. But I wanted to show you that I felt as much as you did. When I called you Spike, I know it must have seemed like a slap in the face," she said, glancing up at him. "So I get why you gave me the book to read. Whether you're Spike or Will, you love me, right?"
Will nodded, resting his forehead against hers. At the contact, she nearly started crying, but managed to hold back her tears once again. "Well," she sniffed, "I feel the same way. So I think we're done here, so we can get out of here."
He looked at her. "What do you mean?" She didn't answer, merely pulling him after her to her bedroom. She opened the door, and drew him inside.
There were candles here, too, but fewer of them. Buffy's bed was covered in soft sheets, and there was a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket next to two glasses. Will took a step away from her, and dropped her hand. He looked around, and said, "It looks beautiful, love." But his voice seemed tired, and he sat down on the bed, looking dazed.
She frowned, feeling her fear rising up. He had followed her lead, yes, but she had hardly let him get a word in edgewise. Had she been so confident of his feelings, after reading the book, that she had misjudged things? She sat down next to him on the bed, not touching him.
"I've been talking so much tonight, because I thought the book was your talking. Please tell me I haven't been wrong tonight," she said, staring forward, unable to look at him.
She felt his hand settle on top of hers, where it was resting on her leg. She felt her eyes pulled towards their hands as he started speaking.
"I'm just a little overwhelmed. No one has ever done anything like this for me. You're the only person who's ever worked so hard to convince me that she loves me--all of me. The parts that I don't like, the parts that embarrass me, the parts that make me who I am." His voice choked. "It's not something I'm used to. But I think my brain's gotten the message."
His hand reached around, and tilted her chin up, making her look at him. He rested his hand on her cheek, and once again, his forehead rested against hers. "Oh, Buffy, I love you so damn much, because I know that you love me just as much. You're so amazing, and I want to spend the rest of my life proving that I love you. Spike might have loved the old Buffy, and the old Buffy might have loved Spike, but it's a drop in the bucket to how it's gonna be when you and I love each other."
Buffy sighed, slumping towards him with relief at his words, feeling like her happiness was so great, she couldn't possibly contain it within her body. So she kissed him, because together, the two of them could hold their joy and love as it filled up their bodies and their souls. Their kisses were deep, their hands touching each other with reverance, and she giddily thought that she could taste his soul in his kiss.
They paused for breath, and she said, "Love you so much," as she wiped at the tears that had started falling from her eyes. He grinned at her, and leaned forward to start kissing each tear off her cheeks. Each time his lips pulled away from her face, he said, "Love you." He moved around her face, kissing her, and Buffy could only wrap her arms around him.
As they laid back on the bed, kissing and touching, she couldn't help saying, "Well, this is some answer you're giving me, Will," feeling giddy with joy.
Will smirked at her. "Just wait till I ask you the question I've been wanting to ask you for forever. But that'll have to wait . . ." he said, his voice trailing off as he kissed her neck. He groaned, and said, "Oh, God, how could I think that I could live without you?"
She ran her hands over his back, and wiggled down until she could face him. "I can't believe we made it here. Who would have expected it?" she asked rhetorically, wrapping her leg around his waist.
He pulled her against him, and said, between kisses, "No one, love. Guess we chose to make our own fate."
End, Chapter Ten