Chapter Fifteen

Three months later…

Buffy stared down at the letter from Dahlia.

"My dearest Buffy,

I hope this letter finds you well. With the holidays coming up, I have been thinking so much about you and our conversations. We have a bond, you and I, that is so very, very special. I am not sure what your plans are for Thanksgiving, if you are going west to spend it with family and friends. If you are, then I wish you well. If you are not, then it would be my pleasure to have you here at Beauvais Hall for the weekend. Annabelle will make up your room and I promise you a feast and those mimosas you loved so much the last time.

All my love, Dahlia."

Buffy sighed. She wrapped the shawl around her shoulders tighter and stared out at the water. Over the last months she'd found herself doing that a lot. Sitting on the porch with her laptop and text books, doing her homework, she would stop suddenly and look up out at the water wondering if, in that moment, William was doing the same. The same ocean lapped at his shores and at hers, and she often wondered if she dropped a branch, a shell, or a piece of paper, if they would be picked up by the current and swiftly delivered to him. She imagined, at times, that during his morning jogs, he'd stop and pick up a piece of ocean debris, look north, and think of her.

Turning, she walked back into the house and checked the clock. It was an okay time to call. She grabbed the cordless phone and quickly dialed the number.

"Angel Investigations!"
"Hi, Nina. Is Angel around?"

"Sure, Buffy, just a sec. How is school?"

"Good, really good."

"Great to hear. I'll go and get him."

Buffy heard the phone drop and as she waited, she wandered back out onto the porch.

"Hey Buffy, how are you?"

She smiled, hearing his voice. "Good and you?"

"Couldn't be better. Helping the helpless is all it's cracked up to be!" She could hear the faint tinge of irony in his tone. "School's good?"

"School's good. I start my co-op in the New Year, so I'm excited about that. I'll be working at a youth detention centre."

Angel chuckled. "Who would have thought living with all those slayers would prepare you for something more, eh?"

She laughed. "Apparently it did."

"So, what's up?" he asked. Even though their relationship had settled into something comfortable for the both of them since that conversation on the beach, they didn't call each other just to exchange inanities.

"I got an invitation from Dahlia to go and spend Thanksgiving with her at the plantation," Buffy said softly.

"And? What's the problem with that? Southern hospitality is all it's cracked up to be and it would be better than spending it alone."

"I'm scared," she murmured.

"Aah, Buffy, come on. The Slayer I know is never scared."

She closed her eyes. "I'm not the Slayer anymore. I'm just – just Buffy and I'm terrified of going to Dahlia's."

"Do you know if he's going to be there?"

"Not for certain, but I figure he will be. They're friends."

"Have you talked to him at all since you left Charleston?"

"Nope," she whispered. Her eyes burned with tears and she squeezed them shut, angrily fighting them back. No more tears. No more crying. She'd bawled the entire bus ride back to Wilmington and then cried for days afterwards. Then, one morning she'd woken, showered, and decided that she'd wept enough. So she'd ironed her clothes, cleaned the house, and started getting ready for college.

"Buffy, I think that you're making a mistake," said Angel suddenly.

Her eyes snapped open and she glared at nothing in particular. "What?"

"I think you're making a mistake with William."

"How so? If he's not Spike, then what is there?"

Angel sighed. "He seems to be a pretty good guy in his own right. A talented, successful man with a future. I'm assuming that you find him attractive, although he looks so much like Spike I don't know how you could." She could hear the smile in his voice, "but that aside, Buffy, he's a good guy. He's smart and successful and wealthy and there is an attraction and a bond between the two of you."

She shook her head. "That bond was nothing – it was based on my fantasies and my wishes and nothing else."

"And the attraction? I didn't imagine that – there was fire between the two of you."

"I thought – well, he just looked so much like Spike! How could I not be attracted to him? I thought it was him! It was Spike I was attracted to, not William."

"How do you know that? You ran away before it could be something more!" Angel argued.

"Urgh," Buffy cried out, pressing her fingers into her eyes. "This is crazy!"

"What are you scared of?" he asked harshly. "Just what the hell are you so scared of? Being happy?"

She stood stock still and stared up at the sky. That was it, wasn't it?

"Every time I've ever been happy with someone, they go away," she whispered. "Dad went away, you did, Mom, Riley, Spike – every one just disappears. God, Spike was immortal and he still died. William isn't like you or Spike, he's not going to live forever."

Angel laughed roughly. "That's a good thing for you, Buffy. Believe me."

"He could die," she said softly. "What happens in I fall in love with him and he dies? What would I do then?"

"I used to worry about that all the time, when I was with you," he replied. "It used to keep me up, I would watch you fight and I would worry about the one time you'd slip and get killed."

She shook her head and pressed the phone to her ear. "How did you do it?"

"I ran away, didn't I? Don't use me as your yard stick, Buffy. I couldn't handle it. But you're so much stronger than I am."

"What would you do differently if you had the chance, if circumstances had been different?" she asked.

Angel sighed, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. "I would stay. I would stay and I would fight and protect you with my life. I would love you for every day and every moment that we had – whether that was one year or fifty."

Buffy smiled sadly, wishing he were there, wishing that she could comfort him.

"Thank you," she said.

"So, what are you going to do? You going to keep running or are you going to stay?"

She made up her mind in that instant. "I'm going to stay."

***

William got out of the car, balancing the cake box and the bottle of bourbon. He set the box on the top of the car and grabbed his overnight bag from the back seat.

"Let me help you with that, Mr. Bennett."

William glanced up and smiled at Isaiah. "Thanks! How are you?" he asked as they walked up the path to the back of the house.

"Good, Miss Dahlia has us all busy getting ready for this weekend. That woman, I swear, she's got more energy and ideas than a teenager!" The older man shook his head in disbelief.

William grinned. "That's why I brought us some bourbon, my friend. I thought we'd sneak off and steal us a nip or two."

Isaiah smiled as he opened the door and held it for William. "That sounds great, you just tell me when."

"When what?"

William turned and smiled at Dahlia as she sailed into the room. Dressed in a lovely, white and peach muslin dress that floated like air to the floor, she looked like something from an old movie poster. William hugged her close and pressed a kiss to her cheek. He stood back and looked her up and down.

"You did something to your hair," he said.

She ran a hand over her shorter locks self consciously. The long hair that she'd worn in a French twist had been replaced by a 1920s style bob. She went from southern belle to southern chic.

"It was time for a change," she said with a small smile.

"It looks bloody marvelous," he said with a charming grin.

She waved his compliments away and glanced between him and Isaiah. "Do not think you can distract me from what I overheard. What are you boys up to now? I do not want any shenanigans going on this weekend."

William glanced over at his partner in arms with a look of pure innocence. "I promise, no shenanigans." It was Jack Daniels green label bourbon after all, there were no shenanigans written anywhere on the label, so technically he wasn't lying to her.

And she knew it; from the sparkle in her eyes, he could tell she knew exactly what they were up to.

She shook her head. "Your room is ready upstairs. Go get settled in and meet us down on the veranda for a drink before dinner."

He nodded. "Yes, ma'am." Then he winked at Isaiah and headed upstairs.

William let himself into his room and tossed the suitcase on the bed. He strolled over to the French doors and pushed the sheer curtains aside. He unlocked the doors and opened them to let in the November sunshine and a fresh breeze. It was a beautiful evening, the temperatures in the low seventies, and as he stepped out onto the balcony, William let the sun and the heat melt away his tension.

Surely, if Dahlia had invited Buffy for the weekend, she would have said something.

'She did say to meet "us" on the verandah,' a voice insisted in his head.

"She meant Isaiah," he said out loud.

He heard the fall of a footstep off to his right and he turned.

"Are you talking to yourself?" Buffy asked.

All his tension, which had just recently washed away, came flooding back. His first thought, looking at her standing there in the setting sun was that she looked beautiful. Her hair seemed blonder, gilded in the fading glow and her skin seemed darker from hours spent in the sun. She wore a sleeveless black blouse and white linen capris, and a beautiful necklace of black and white crystals graced her neck. In that moment, she looked as gorgeous as she did in all his dreams.

Then he noticed that she looked tired. There were dark circles beneath her eyes and her smile seemed forced. She looked as nervous as he felt.

"Hi," he said. "Seems you did catch me talking to myself." He shrugged, smiling. "Can't really deny it now, can I?"

She shook her head and walked over to stand next to him. They both leaned against the railing and stared out at the Ashley River.

"How have you been?" she asked, breaking the heavy silence.

'Horrible', he wanted to say. 'I can't sleep. I miss you. I want you. I don't feel comfortable in my own skin. What do I have to do to have you back? Come back to me. Make the ache go away'.

"Good," he said instead. "I finished the second book. It's been sent off and it's in the editor's capable hands now."

She smiled over at him. "That's great. You managed to resolve the conflict then?"

William looked away from her and thought about the ending to his second novel. Oh yeah, he'd resolved the conflict alright. How could a woman like Morgan love and live happily with a demon like Rain? She couldn't. There was no way for a woman like Morgan, descendant from angels, to live happily with a demon like Rain.

So William had killed him.

He could not have killed off Morgan. He loved her too much and it would have killed something inside of him, some part of his own creativity would have died, if he'd killed his heroine.

"Yeah," he said finally. "I solved their conflict."

"I'm glad. So when can I expect to see it on bookstore shelves everywhere?"

"Summer. It's slotted for an August release."

This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Why didn't he just take her into his arms and beg her to give him a chance? To give them a chance?

He turned to her, his hands clenching.

"Buf-"

"Willi-"

A bell rang from somewhere below them and William cursed. Buffy looked startled.

"What's that?"

"Dahlia, she's ordering us down to the verandah."

A look of disappointment flitted across her face, but she forced a smile. "Well, we better not leave her waiting."

He cocked a grin and exhaled deeply. "Better not. I don't want her withholding any sweet potato pie from me." He held out his arm. "Shall we?"

Instead of taking his arm, Buffy slipped her hand in his and smiled at him shyly. "Let's go."

TBC