Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This is for fun and not profit. If you sue me, I'll cry

Rating: NC-17 (Sexual content and taboo subjects)

Author's Note: THIS STORY CONTAINS ANGST. See all how that's all bold and underlined? And in all caps, too? That means it's important, so read it. Heed it. Pay attention to it. If you don't, and you whine at me about angst, I'm going to get very cranky, and will probably mock you and call you an idiot. It won't be pretty.

This story is not fluffy. Most of it is not happy. Buffy and Spike will have lots of problems to face, and things will be very rough for them. This story is probably the angsty thing I've ever written, but I'm not going to veer from the course I have planned, no matter how many people complain. If you want fluff, go read a happy fic. If you want something heavier where the characters really have to work for their happy ending, then read this. If you'd rather have the fluff, but you read this anyway, and then yell at me, I'm going to get angry, because that's very annoying. I know not everyone likes angst, but some people do, and I'm not going to shortchange them in favor of people who think they can dictate my story to me. Furthermore, complaining about angst is in no way constructive criticism, and will not be treated as such. Constructive criticism identifies a problem with the story and gives suggestions on how to fix it. Whining that the story is too angsty for you does neither of these things since "too angsty" is not, in itself, a problem, and "make the angst go away" is not a helpful tip on how to improve my writing. If there's too much angst for you to handle, that's your problem not the story's—so just go read something else.

So, to sum up—Angst ahead. Lots. If that's not your cuppa, just go away now. I won't tolerate flame wars about angst, and if you try it, I will become very put out. Got it? Good.

NOTE ON SPIKE/OTHER AND BUFFY/OTHER PAIRINGS: Yes, they are in this story. No, they are not graphic. No, I will not write big, long Angel/Buffy love scenes. *shutters at the mere thought* Yes, this story will be, for its entirety, Spuffy. I don't think any of the other pairings will be a serious problem for anyone since they won't be graphic and won't last long, but I'm telling you they're in there now and getting it out in the open. Again, keep your flames and complaints to yourself.

Feedback and Archiving: Both are welcome, but if you haven't archived one of my fics in the past, please ask permission before you do.

Contact Info: email: addie_logan@yahoo.com website: http://www.dark-desire.org/blood updates list: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/addielogan/

*** *** ***

"I'm lying here beside you
In someone else's bed,
Knowing what were doing's wrong
But better left unsaid.
Your breathing sounds like screaming, it's all that I can stand.
His ring is on your finger, but my heart is in your hands.

Damned if you love me, damned if you don't.
It's getting harder holding on, but I can't let you go.
Damned if you don't need me, damned if you do.
God , I wish it wasn't me standing in these shoes.
Damned, Damned

A door slams like a shotgun, you jump up to your feet.
But it's just the wind blowing through the secrets that we keep.
Made me want to want you, God knows I need to need you.
By the time the love is over, I'll be sleeping on the streets."
—"Damned," Bon Jovi

ZOSER:
"Don't come on so cocksure boy, you can't escape your genes.
No point in feeling pure boy, your background intervenes.
Listen good and listen straight, you're not the master of your fate.
To this you must be reconciled; you'll always be your father's child.
At times acclaimed, at times reviled.
You'll wind up doing just what I've done:
Like father, like son."

RADAMES:
"Don't assume your vices get handed down the line,
That a parent's blood suffices to condemn the child's design.
I've done wrong, I can't deny, but at least I know that I
Shouldn't blame that on my stock, this may come as quite a shock
I'm no chip off any block, I wouldn't wish those words on anyone:
Like father, like son."
—"Like Father, Like Son," Aida, Lyrics by Tim Rice

*** *** ***

For the past month, Buffy Summers had been living in a fairy tale. Her Prince Charming had found her, pulled her out of the hell her life had become, and brought her to live with him in his castle.

Or his mansion in Malibu, more accurately, yet she was more than okay with that. It was a huge step up from the dingy little apartment she'd shared with three of her fellow Peppermint Stick dancers.

She rolled over onto her stomach, exposing her back now to the warm California sun as she tanned herself by the pool. The sun's rays glinted off the large diamonds of the two rings she wore on her left hand, though Buffy's oversized designer sunglasses protected her green eyes from the glare.

Her life was absolutely perfect.

"Well, don't you look lovely today."

Buffy turned her head, seeing her husband standing a few feet away, under the shade of an awning. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, a smirk on his face. "Liam," Buffy replied, smiling brightly as she jumped up from her chair and ran to her husband to drape her arms over his shoulders. "You're home early."

"Only because I left some papers I need to go through on my desk here. I'm going to be in my study for the rest of the afternoon, probably most of the evening, too." His dark gaze raked over her body and he ran his hands across her barely-covered bottom. "Though I have to say, this bikini of yours is making me wish that wasn't the case."

Buffy pouted. "Do you have to work right now?"

"Sorry, princess, but my job has to come first." He kissed her, then pulled away. "But you can help me de-stress later."

"I'll be looking forward to it," Buffy replied, her pout turning into a coy smile.

Liam pulled away, delivering a quick swat to her bottom as he did. "See you tonight, babe."

With a sigh, Buffy watched him disappear into the house before returning to her sunbathing.

*** *** ***

Buffy was just coming downstairs after showering and changing her clothes when she heard a commotion in the front hall. Anita, the housekeeper, was talking quickly to a woman whose voice Buffy didn't recognize.

"I am sorry, but Mr. Angelus is working and cannot be disturbed."

"I don't care if Mr. Angelus is negotiating world peace, tell him to get his sorry ass down here right now."

Buffy came into the room, frowning when she caught her first glimpse of the unidentified woman. She was well-dressed and groomed, with blonde hair down to her shoulders and piercing blue eyes.

Behind her, stood a young man, his head down.

"I'll take it from here, Anita," Buffy said as she placed her hand on the flustered housekeeper's shoulder.

"Thank you, Miss Buffy," Anita said quickly before rushing off to another part of the house. She couldn't seem to get away fast enough.

The blonde woman looked Buffy over, sneering as she did. "Oh, you must be the new one. They just keep getting younger. Next thing you know, he'll be picking up cheerleaders from local high school football games."

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, bristling. "And you are?"

"Oh, you mean he didn't tell you about me? Typical." The woman offered her perfectly-manicured hand, though all warmth had been stripped from the gesture. "I'm Darla—wife number one. And this…" She nodded her head towards the boy, "Is our son, William."

Buffy's eyes widened as she staggered a step back, not reaching to accept Darla's hand. "Your…with Liam?"

"Well, yeah," Darla replied with a roll of her eyes. "Left that part out, too, did he? Also so not surprising. Look, I have to be on a plane tonight, so why don't you run along and tell your sugar daddy Darla's here to see him, hmm?"

Less from intimidation and more from a need to ask her husband directly what in the world was going on here, Buffy ran up the stairs and to his study. She opened the door without knocking, causing Liam to look up from his desk with an exasperated look.

"Buffy, what the hell are you doing? I've told you more than once to never, ever bother me when I'm working. Can you not get that into your little blonde head?"

"I'm sorry, Liam, but this is important. There's someone here to see you."

"So? Tell them to go away," Liam replied, annoyed.

"It's Darla. And…and William."

At the way her husband's face grew completely pale and his eyes widened, Buffy had a feeling Darla's claims had been true. Liam jumped up from his desk, pushing past Buffy to race downstairs. She followed him, a strange feeling turning in her gut.

Buffy had known Liam was a good bit older than her, and couldn't really say it shocked her to know he'd been married before or that he had a teenaged son.

She was, however, surprised he'd kept it from her.

Once downstairs, Liam grabbed Darla's arm and hissed, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Darla pulled her arm away and flipped her hair, an exasperated expression on her face. "It's your half of the summer, Liam, starting, oh, about an hour ago."

"That part of the arrangement was only until he finished high school, and I know he's done now, seeing as you've already informed me how much his damn college education is going to cost me."

"Don't you want to spend some time with your precious little boy?" Darla asked, her smile teasing.

"I have a lot going on with work right now. I don't have time to…"

"Whatever," Darla said, cutting him off with a wave of her hand. "I have him most of the year. You can deal. Have Muffy or whatever her name is take him to the mall with her." She turned away from Liam, giving William a quick, "Bye, honey. Be good for Daddy," before walking out the front door.

"Darla, get back in here!" Liam yelled, running after her. Darla simply flipped him off, got in her car, and drove away.

"Bitch!" Liam yelled before storming back in and slamming the door. He turned a furious gaze on Buffy, one she'd never seen him wear before, and it made her blood run cold. "Do something about this," he snapped at her before he went back up the stairs.

With Liam gone, Buffy turned her attention to the young man, still standing in the foyer, and her heart went out to him. "So I guess I should show you to a guest room?" Buffy said, not quite knowing how to act in the situation.

"I…I know where my room is," William said softly, his head still down. "You don't…you don't have to show me. I won't bother you while I'm here, I promise. I'll stay in my room and be quiet for the most part anyway."

"Hey, you don't have to do that," Buffy replied as she walked over to him.

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You won't be." Buffy placed her hand on his arm, almost gasping at the current that seemed to jump from him to her. He looked up for the first time then, and Buffy noticed he had the same startling-blue eyes as his mother, yet without the coldness behind them.

William swallowed, his skin feeling hot beneath her hand, even with the material of his shirt between them. "I don't, I mean that is, I…"

"It's okay. I understand how you're feeling," Buffy said, reluctantly letting her hand drop away from him. "My parents were divorced, too, so I get it. And you so wouldn't be a bother. I get pretty lonely here all day."

William favored her with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you."

Buffy picked up one of the bags beside him. "Come on. Show me where this room of yours is, and I'll help you bring your stuff up."

"You don't have to," William protested, reaching for the bag.

"I know, but I want to. Come on."

As Buffy started up the stairs, William picked up his other bags and followed her.

*** *** ***

Buffy looked around William's room, noting it was one she hadn't been in before. Liam's mansion was much bigger than what she was used to, and she'd never bothered to do any real exploring.

"So you come here every summer?" Buffy asked, feeling reluctant to simply leave the teenager by himself.

"Mostly, yes," William replied as he dropped his things on the bed. Buffy placed the bag she'd been carrying beside them. "Sometimes holidays, too, but not many."

"Do you live in England? I noticed you have a bit of an accent."

"My parents were living in London when I was born, and although they moved to California when I was young, I spent most of my time at an English boarding school. They divorced when I was a small child, shortly after the move, and it was easier for Mother to have her modeling career without me in tow."

Buffy realized then why Darla had looked familiar—she'd seen her face on more than a few magazine covers. She also noticed that William spoke of being shuffled off as if it were something mundane. "Oh."

"But really, as I said earlier, I won't be a problem for you at all. I keep to myself, and I don't make a lot of noise, so…"

"Hey, slow down there Will," Buffy said, her hand coming up. "I already told you you weren't going to be a problem. I'm happy at the prospect of having company."

"You aren't just saying that to be kind to me, are you?" William asked, a small spark of hope in his eyes. "I know both Lilah and Eve were happier when I stayed out of sight."

Buffy frowned. "Lilah and Eve?"

"My previous stepmothers," William clarified. Then, he blushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…If I've said too much, I…"

"No, it's okay. I knew Liam was married before, I just didn't know names," Buffy replied. "Oh, and speaking of names, I'm Buffy." She held out her hand, giving William a smile to try to calm him.

He took her hand, that strange jolt going through them both again, and this time, Buffy did gasp. Quickly, they both pulled away.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Buffy," William said as his gaze dropped to the floor.

"You, too, William. Do you go by William? Is it Will or Billy or…"

"Not Billy," he said quickly, making Buffy laugh. "It's William, though Will is fine, too. Just not Billy. Or Willy. I don't like those."

Buffy smiled at him. "I can't say I blame you. But then again, I've had to go through life with Buffy, so…"

"I think Buffy is a lovely name."

She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, now I know you're just trying to butter me up. Hey, are you hungry? It's just about dinner time, so why don't you come down and eat with me? It would be nice to have some company."

William didn't question that she would've been eating alone. "All right. If I really wouldn't be a…"

"If you say bother, I'm smacking you."

He looked at her sharply until he saw her teasing grin, and relaxed, smiling hesitantly back at her.

"Come on, downstairs," Buffy said walking towards the bedroom door.

William followed closely behind her.

*** *** ***

Yes, in this fic, William is technically Buffy's step-son. (Hence the title—see?) He's only four years younger than her, so it's not really overly creepy in my opinion, but if just the idea bothers you, that's another thing not to complain about. You can just stop reading here, and everything will be fine. If it doesn't bug you, then by all means, read on.

Please leave a review and let me know if I have any readers for this one!

"So what sort of things do you do for fun?" Buffy asked William as they ate dinner together in the mansion's large dining room. "Any hobbies?"

"I… I just concentrate on my studies," William told her, hiding behind the light brown hair that fell in front of his face.

"Come on, you have to have some sort of hobby," Buffy prodded, wanting to get to know more about the young man who would apparently be spending time with her this summer. After all, he was her step-son.

Step-son. That word alone struck Buffy as very odd, in reference to her. After all, she was only twenty-two.

William cleared his throat. "I do write a little. Poetry."

"Really? Wow. I'm impressed. I totally suck with the written word. And, according to several of my high school teachers, the spoken one, too."

"It's not any good," William replied as he blushed. "I have written any since…" Since several of his classmates had found it and taunted him, but he wasn't going to admit that to Buffy. "Not in a while."

"Maybe you'll have some time to write while you're here," Buffy suggested. "It tends to be pretty quiet."

"Perhaps."

Buffy chewed her bottom lip as she watched William finish his dinner. She could tell he was shy—almost painfully so—and her heart went out to him. Maybe she could help him come out of his shell a little this summer before he went away to college.

"Would it be all right if I went back up to my room?" William asked, his gaze still downward. "It's been a long day for me, and I'm tired."

Buffy came to a quick realization: Bringing him out of shell was going to be rather difficult… "Yeah, sure. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'll be fine." William stood. "Good night, Buffy."

"Good night, William. It was nice to meet you."

William replied with a small, sad smile, "I know it wasn't, not with the shock I must've been, but I appreciate you saying otherwise."

Buffy started to protest, but before she could, William had already left the room. With a sigh, she let him go.

*** *** ***

It was late before Liam came up to join Buffy in bed, yet as soon as she heard him enter the room, she reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. Liam sighed heavily. "What, Buffy?"

She sat up, arching her eyebrow at his comment. "What? What do you think it is, Liam?"

"Look, I'm sorry about this thing with Darla. If I'd known she was actually going to dump William on me this summer, I would've said something to you. I can find somewhere else for him to be if he's going to be a bother."

"He's not my problem," Buffy replied. "My problem is you."

Liam blinked in surprise. "What? Look, Buffy, I had a life before you. You can't blame me for that."

"I don't. I won't lie and say I'm happy you didn't tell me you had a son, but we can't go back and change that now. What I'm the most upset about is how you treated him today," Buffy tried to explain to her husband.

"What, was he whining again when I left?" Liam asked.

"No. He was actually very quiet, but I think he was upset. You made it clear you didn't want him here with you, and then you completely ignored him. My father used to do the same thing to me, Liam, and it hurts. A lot."

Liam sighed again as he came over and sat beside Buffy on the bed. "I'm sorry. I just have this big deal going down at work, and I was in the middle of dealing with that when Darla showed up. I didn't mean to hurt Will, I was just stressed, and then seeing my ex-wife made it worse. Darla is…well, she's a worthless whore is what she is. I won't even begin to get into the crap she put me through during our marriage." Liam shook his head. "I'm sorry about this afternoon. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you I had a son. I meant to, I just didn't know quite how to say it." His gaze turned down. "Sometimes, being with you, it makes me feel so old. I was afraid if you knew I had a kid, you'd look at me differently."

Buffy softened at his pitiful expression and reached out to place her hand against his cheek. "Honey, I'd never look at you differently because of that. I know you're older than me, but I love you. And I know you had a life before me, too. I… Well, my past wasn't exactly lovely before you either, but you know that." She lowered her hand to place it over his. "You're not a bad man, Liam. You're a good husband, and I'm so grateful to have you—which is why I was surprised to see you treat your son that way. He seems like a good boy."

"He is," Liam replied, his eyes downcast. "I'll apologize to him in the morning. It really wasn't him, I was just all out of sorts with my job and seeing Darla. I'm sorry, Buffy. Please don't think I'm anything like your father."

"I don't. And I believe you when you tell me you didn't mean to hurt William."

"Good," Liam said with his most charming smile. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss, then stood. "I'm going to get ready for bed. I want you to still be awake when I get back." He winked, then went towards the bathroom.

Buffy turned off the bedside light, then settled into the bed to wait for her husband.

*** *** ***

William didn't know why his mother had insisted on bringing him here. He was eighteen years old—more than old enough to simply stay home on his own. It was obvious his father didn't want him. His father never wanted him. So why make them both suffer through another one of these pointless summers?

He hadn't been surprised by his father's response at his arrival. It was the same way every year, after all. What had surprised him, was the response of his father's new wife.

This was the third one, not including his mother, that William had met. The other two had not favored him with a single kind word and had, in fact, barely spoken to him at all. Lilah had thrown a fit about having a "brat" in her home, and Eve had insisted William was ogling her and trying to watch her bathe, both things that had not even entered his mind to do. That woman had made him much more cold than hot. He still shivered to think of her.

Or the other claims she'd made later on…

However, she had made his father send him away early that year, and William had been grateful when Eve was already gone the next.

But Buffy… She was warm and beautiful, and William wondered what she could possibly be doing with a man like his father. Already he knew she was too good for him.

She had such a bright smile. It wasn't like ones he was used to in his own home. Nothing fake or taunting about it, just open and genuine.

He hoped she wouldn't change her mind about wanting him to spend time with her this summer. Perhaps they could even become friends. William had never really had one of those…

He rolled over and drifted off to sleep, his lips curved up slightly as he thought of Buffy.

*** *** ***

William was surprised when he looked at the clock the next morning and saw he'd slept past noon. Normally, he was a much earlier riser. Maybe he had been as tired as he'd told Buffy he was at dinner.

Or perhaps, it was simply because he'd known he wouldn't have his mother yelling at him to "get his lazy ass" out of bed. Either one.

As soon as he was presentable, he went downstairs in search of Buffy. He knew her claims that she would welcome his company could have been no more than lip service, and he resolved to pay close attention to her for any signs he was wearing out his welcome.

He found Buffy by the pool, and he stopped short as soon as he caught sight of her. She was in a tiny red string bikini, and William's mouth watered as he felt a definite stirring in his pants.

As soon as he realized what was happening, he tried to fight it. This was his father's wife!

But she was also an eighteen year old boy's wet dream come true, with her barely-covered tanned skin, pert breasts, and long, golden hair. He trembled.

Buffy's head turned, and she smiled when she saw William, oblivious to his predicament. She gave him a small wave. "Hey, there. Come on over here if you want."

William swallowed, his feet moving without his mind's consent. He sat down in the chair beside her and quickly folded his hands in his lap.

"Did you just wake up?" Buffy asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry I slept so late."

Buffy waved her hand dismissively. "Please. It's summer. Sleep the damn day away."

William gave her a small, shy smile, and Buffy found herself noticing how attractive he was. He didn't look much like his father, though she thought she could see a bit of his mother in him.

Buffy sat up in the chair, catching the quick flicker of William's eyes to her barely-covered breasts as she did. He didn't let his gaze linger, yet he was still too young and inexperienced to check her out discreetly, and Buffy knew she should be bothered.

Instead, she gave into the perverse urge to push her breasts out, giving William a better look. His eyes darted back to her chest for a second, and he swallowed.

Logic came back then, and Buffy had to ask herself what she was doing. She was a married woman with a husband she loved—and this boy was that husband's son. Why was she giving into the little voice in her head telling her to flirt with him? Why was that little voice there at all?

She made up her mind then to firmly bind and gag that voice. William was going to be there for the next several weeks, and during that time, she needed to view him for what he was—her step-son.

It really didn't matter how she seemed to tremble when his ice-blue gaze ran over her body.

Only that was bothersome. Really, it was—it had to be. She needed to set up barriers and make it perfectly clear this relationship would never be anything but platonic.

Yet when she leaned over to speak to him, her hand went to his thigh. She could feel the warmth of his skin radiating from beneath his pants, could feel the strength of his tightly-corded muscles.

He turned towards her, his eyes hazy, and for a moment they were both frozen.

Then, Buffy jerked her hand up, a blush crossing both of their faces even as they resolved to pretend it hadn't happened at all.

"Are you hungry?" Buffy asked, her hands now fiddling nervously in her own lap. "I was about to go in and change, and then get something for lunch. You could join me if you'd like."

Buffy didn't know what she wanted his answer to be until he agreed and she felt relief. She smiled brightly, pushing the momentary awkwardness out of her mind as if it had never happened. "Great. I'll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes then."

She walked back into the house, unable to prevent the sway of her hips as she felt William's eyes trained on her.

With Buffy gone, William shivered, taking deep breaths to calm himself. He knew he was a teenaged boy and his hormones were raging, but this wasn't something he wanted to deal with at all. Buffy was his father's wife, and to have thoughts like this about her…

Although really, he couldn't completely blame himself. She'd be gorgeous in a parka, but with all of that tanned flesh displayed so tantalizingly, of course he would respond.

Only it was her right to sunbathe in her own home, and he was a total pervert for leering over her.

William groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

It was going to be a long summer…

*** *** ***

Glad to see I didn't chase everyone off with my gratuitous author's notes. I hope you enjoyed the second chapter, and please take the time to review!

When Buffy met William in the kitchen, she had changed out of her bikini, yet her current ensemble of a spaghetti-strap tank top and denim shorts wasn't really making things any easier for him.

"I don't usually like to bother the staff with lunch, so I was just going to make a turkey sandwich," Buffy said, cutting any preliminaries. "Is that all right with you?"

"Yeah, that's fine," William replied. "I can help you."

"No, I've got it," Buffy said, shaking her head. "Anything you don't like on a sandwich?"

"I'm fine with anything. I've never been a picky eater. Are you sure you don't want me to help you?"

"Completely sure. Just go wait in the dining room, and I'll bring it to you in a minute." Buffy had decided while she was changing that she wanted to go ahead and set the tone for their relationship. She didn't really see William as the type to be overly forward, but he was a teenaged boy who would be spending a lot of time alone with her. He was already checking her out, and she knew it wasn't beyond the realm of possibilities for him to develop a crush on her.

If she could establish herself in more of a caretaker position now, maybe he'd start seeing her less an attractive young woman and more as a step-mother. That would cut down on potential awkwardness.

At least in the nice plan Buffy had formed in her head.

Instead, when she brought him his lunch, the act seemed strangely intimate. She'd leaned over him to place the plate on the table and had brushed up against him in the process, sending a shiver through both of them. The lean muscle of his back as firm, and her nipple hardened from the touch, even with both of their shirts between them.

William swallowed, his cock immediately making its presence known again. "Thank you, Buffy."

She pulled back, reluctantly, before she snapped back to her senses and realized what was happening. "You're welcome," she said evenly before she went around to sit down herself.

They ate in an uneasy silence, and Buffy knew she couldn't let things start off this way. It was an awkward situation, but she felt sorry for William and didn't want him to spend the summer feeling alone and unwanted.

Buffy cleared her throat, then spoke up. "So, have you given any thought to a major for college?"

William swallowed the food in his mouth, then responded with a half-hearted, "Business."

"You don't sound overly excited about that," Buffy replied, wanting to keep the conversation going. Maybe if they could form some sort of friendship, then there would be less awkward tension.

"It's more what my mother wants than what I want. She says I need it if I'm going to take over for my father someday," William explained, even as he wondered why he was being so upfront with Buffy. Up until right then, he'd kept his ill will towards his major to himself.

"Well, what do you want?"

"Does it matter?" William muttered before he could stop himself, bitterness and a hint of anger in his voice.

Buffy frowned, his response taking her by surprise. She'd noticed from the beginning that he was quiet and withdrawn, but now she was realizing something else, too.

He wasn't happy.

"I think what you want should matter," Buffy replied. "I mean, it's your life, isn't it?"

"In theory." William sighed. "I don't mean to be a wanker, but I don't really want to talk about this stuff. The only thing I'm looking forward to as far as college is concerned is not having to deal with my mother as much."

"Oh. Sorry." The uneasy silence fell again, and Buffy sighed inwardly. There went her attempt to try to befriend him… Maybe they would do better just keeping their distance over the summer.

Buffy finished her lunch, then stood up with her plate. "I'm going upstairs to rest for a while."

William looked up. "Buffy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"No, it's fine," Buffy said, cutting him off. "I just need a nap." She left William alone in the dining room.

He sighed heavily. "Bugger."

*** *** ***

"I think you should spend time with William."

Liam pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and dropped it in the dirty clothes pile inside his closet. "Buffy, I'm really busy with work right now, baby. I don't have the time to go play mini-golf with the boy, or however fathers and sons are supposed to bond these days."

"I'm worried about him," Buffy replied as she picked at the coverlet over the bed. "I think he's depressed."

"Depressed?" Liam asked with a chuckle. "Why, because he didn't come down to dinner? Buffy, he's a teenager. They're anti-social and weird."

"No, not from that. Well, not just from that. I was talking to him earlier today, and he seemed…really sad."

Liam stepped out of his pants, leaving him only in his boxers, and turned back towards the bed. "Buffy, be careful around him, all right? He's caused trouble in the past."

Buffy frowned, her brow creasing as she tried to imagine quiet, unassuming William causing any trouble. "What sort of trouble?" she asked.

"A couple of years ago, he made advances on my then wife, Eve. She said she woke up one night when I was out of town to find him in the bed with her, touching her."

"Which one was Eve?" Buffy asked. "Was she the one who was sleeping with one of your business partners and the gardener?"

"Just watch yourself when I'm not around, Buffy," Liam replied. "I don't really like the idea of you being alone all day with him as it is, but since Darla dumped him off on me, I don't see a lot of other choices."

"Liam, honey, he's your son," Buffy said, surprised by her husband's response. "And I think he needs some family support in his life. He's obviously not very close to his mother."

"Well, no, she's a psychotic bitch. I need to get ready for bed, baby." Liam went into the bathroom and shut the door before Buffy could say anything else.

Buffy was at a loss. Even with the way William had checked her out earlier by the pool, she wasn't sure she could believe he had come on to Liam's ex-wife, at least not to that magnitude.

She hadn't felt threatened with him today. He'd made her…sad. She could tell he needed someone in his life, and she was hoping it could be his father.

Buffy didn't understand why Liam was being so dismissive of his son, but she figured it must just be because he was tired and stressed from work. He wasn't the sort of man who could care so little for his own child. Buffy was certain of that.

Liam turned off the overhead light and slipped into the bed, muttering a quick "good night," to Buffy as he rolled so he was facing away from her. Buffy leaned over and placed her hand on his arm, then kissed his cheek.

"Would you at least try to make some time for him?" she asked softly. "Please."

"I'll take a look at my schedule and see if I can work it in," Liam replied.

Buffy kissed him again. "Thank you, baby."

Liam replied with a non-committal grunt as Buffy returned to her side of the bed.

*** *** ***

William had been trying for hours to sleep without any luck. He was hungry, though he wanted to just ignore it. When he'd found out his father was going to be home for dinner, he'd decided he'd rather be hungry than to have a "family" meal with Liam and Buffy.

It wasn't the hunger pains that made sleep elusive for him, however. It was her. Buffy. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her, lying under the sun in her tiny red bikini.

She was a bloody wet dream come to life—exactly the sort of women men like his father found for their beds.

William doubted Buffy was much older than he was. She was fresh faced, and still had a light in her eyes—one William knew would fade in time, the longer she stayed here.

At least on the outside, she seemed different from Liam's other wives. Lilah, Eve—even his mother—had all been coldhearted, cruel.

They'd been just like Liam...

Yet Buffy seemed different. She'd been nice to him, more than she really needed to be under the circumstances. She'd even seemed like maybe she cared.

But William knew what a woman would be doing with a man like his father, especially a young, beautiful woman. In Liam Angelus's world, it all boiled down to one thing: money.

William sighed, wishing he could just stop thinking about Buffy. He glared down at the tent in the sheet.

Things would be a lot less difficult at the moment if he would stop thinking about Buffy, too.

William sighed heavily, giving up on sleep without allowing himself some release.

"Just don't think about Buffy…" he told himself as he pushed the sheet down and freed his erection from his boxers. "Think about…Jessica Alba."

There, that was a nice, safe fantasy. It was perfectly healthy to fantasize about Jessica Alba. She had a good body—nice, firm tits and full, pouty lips.

He spit into his hand for lubrication, then began stroking his cock, pulling images of a scantily clad Jessica Alba into his mind. With a groan, he focused on her, moaning softly as he thrust into his hand.

Into the Blue… Yeah, that had been a movie with some nice eye candy. Jessica Alba in that tight little bikini…

Bikini…

Buffy…

The thoughts he'd tried to shy away from were there in full force now, and William was too far gone to fight them anymore.

He saw her in front of the pool, her bronzed skin oiled and glistening. The triangles of her bikini top barely covered her perky breasts, the nipples straining against the fabric.

And lower… In his mind's eye, she rolled over, giving him a look at her barely-covered ass. So tight and firm, making him just want to…

With a strangled gasp, William shot into his hand, coming much harder than he was used to. When he finally stopped, he was panting.

He knew he could sleep easily now, his body finally drained of tension, but he rolled over and pulled a wad of tissues from the nightstand, cleaning himself up as best he could. Some had gotten on the sheets, but he couldn't find the energy to care. If the maids were shocked to find that on an eighteen year old's bed, well, they'd lived overly sheltered lives.

He threw the used tissues into the waste basket, tucked his cock back into his boxers, and fell asleep.

*** *** ***

Buffy knocked quickly on William's door before she had the chance to talk herself out of it. Sure, they'd had a bit of a rocky start the day before, but she still wanted to try to extend a hand of friendship to the boy. It broke her heart to think of him being so alone.

He opened the door a few moments later, and Buffy realized she'd woken him up.

Right before her brain shut off.

She'd noticed he was attractive, though she hadn't given it a lot of thought. He was Liam's son, so how could she? But now… He'd answered the door in nothing but his boxers, and between his lean but well-muscled chest and tousled brown curls, she decided just-woken-up William was downright tasty.

Her eyes moved downwards on their own accord and widened when she saw the outline of what was in his thin shorts. That must skip a generation…

"Can I help you?"

Buffy blinked, her eyes darting back up as a blush spread across her face. Right, she was here to say something…using words. Words were good… "I, um, I…" She swallowed. "I was going to go out and get something for brunch, and thought maybe you'd like to come with me."

There. She'd said it, and she was right proud of herself for it, too.

William frowned at her bizarre behavior. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she'd been checking him out, but he knew that couldn't possibly be the case. Why would a woman like Buffy be interested in his skinny, pale body?

He also didn't think he should accept her invitation, given the way he kept seeming to react to her. Even now he was feeling his cock stir, and he hoped she didn't look down and see it in his boxers, since he didn't exactly have a lot to hide behind at the moment. He should just distance himself before she caught wind of his attraction and went to his father with it.

At least this time, he'd be guilty, unlike when he'd been punished for his supposed indiscretions with Eve…

However, his mouth seemed to be going faster than his brain, and before had the chance to formulate an excuse, he was saying, "Sure. Just give me ten minutes, all right?"

Buffy nodded. "Okay. I'll meet you downstairs."

As soon as she was gone, William sighed.

He knew that somehow, this was going to lead him right into trouble.

*** *** ***

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Buffy took him to a café with an outdoor eating area, and try as he might, William couldn't seem to stop from just watching her. The sun was coming in from behind her, making her hair appear like a halo, and he thought she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen.

One thought in particular kept entering his mind: Liam doesn't deserve her.

He thought it would be easier to see her as nothing but a gold-digger, yet she seemed so bright and warm that William had a hard time picturing her as completely superficial.

He needed to know what she saw in his father, why she would've bound herself to a man like that. It was beginning to occur to him that possibly, she didn't know the truth about Liam Angelus. Had he somehow charmed her, maybe even made her think he loved her?

"How did you meet my father?" William asked as they sat waiting for their food to arrive.

Buffy blushed almost imperceptibly. How exactly could she answer his seemingly-innocent question? The truth? Well, he slipped a hundred dollar bill into my g-string, and it caught my attention. She didn't like that, didn't like admitting it, especially to William. It made what she had with Liam seem dirty and unsavory, and it wasn't. Maybe they hadn't met under the best of circumstances, but it didn't make their love any less real.

"Through work," Buffy replied as she quickly came up with a version of the story that wouldn't be completely off from the truth. It wasn't that she was really ashamed of her past—she'd done what she'd had to, given her situation—but would Liam really want his son to know he'd even been in a strip club?

"I was a waitress, and Liam used to come in a lot." There, not completely a lie. She…brought drinks to tables. That was waitressing. She coughed into her hand, then continued. "After a couple of weeks, he admitted the reason he kept showing up was because he saw me and wanted to get to know me better. I agreed to go out with him, and we hit it off. Six months later, we were married."

"Did you know who he was, when you started dating him?" William asked.

"You mean did I know he was incredibly wealthy," Buffy replied.

William blushed and looked away. "I wasn't… I didn't mean to imply that… I didn't think…"

"Yeah, you did, but it's okay," Buffy told him with a smile. "I get it a lot. But no, I didn't know. I knew he was in some kind of business, but I didn't find out he had the sort of money he does until after I fell in love with him. And it wouldn't have made a difference, just for the record. Rich or poor, I'd still love him." She reached out and twirled her straw around in her drink, her tone softening as she continued. "I know there's a big age gap between us, but I don't think things like that matter when two people are really in love."

William found himself staring at her, unsure of what to say. She could be lying, but somehow, he didn't think so. Which meant she was actually in love with his father.

His heart went out to the poor girl.

"So he treats you well, then?" William asked.

"Yes, of course he does," Buffy replied, frowning slightly at William's uncertain tone. "I mean, I don't see him a lot because of his job, but he can't help that."

William supposed it could be possible Liam had changed. Perhaps his father wasn't the cold, unfeeling man he'd once been. If anyone could've caused Liam's heart to melt, William supposed it would be Buffy. Maybe any worries he had of his father breaking Buffy's heart were completely unfounded.

"I just know his marriages in the past have been…difficult," William said, wondering if there was really a diplomatic way to warn her in case this was all another game to Liam, and he later grew tired of it. Would he discard Buffy as if she were no more than garbage?

It wouldn't be the first time he'd done that to a woman.

"My marriage is fine," Buffy said, bristling. "We love each other, Liam would never hurt me, and honestly, it's not any of your business."

The look of hurt that passed over William's face immediately made Buffy regret her harsh tone, and then when he spoke, she regretted it even more. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry where I don't belong, I just…" He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "I like you, Buffy. You seem very nice. I've seen first hand how ugly things can get between my father and his wives, and I hate to think of you going through anything like that."

"I won't. Liam loves me."

Her voice sounded so small when she spoke, and William wondered if cracks were already beginning to show, even if Buffy wasn't willing to look at them yet. As much as he wanted to think she was going to get a happily ever after, he knew it wouldn't be long before she was out of the picture.

And she wouldn't have her own ties and money to fall back on, the way Lilah and Eve had, not if she'd been a waitress when Liam had met her.

William wondered if that was why his father had picked her to be wife number four. A woman like Buffy would be easier for him to control.

However, before he could give the theory much thought, the waiter arrived at the table with their food.

*** *** ***

"Hey, I was thinking about going for a swim. Do you want to join me?"

Buffy's question almost made William run smack into the side of the door, and he veered at the last moment to walk inside of the house without injury. He'd barely been able to handle seeing her in a dry bikini—now she was expecting him to be able to take seeing her in a wet one?

"I don't have a suit," William said quickly, hoping that would work as a way to get him out of this easily.

He wasn't so lucky, apparently. "Oh, that's no big. We have extras. Come on. It'll be more fun if I don't have to swim alone."

William racked his brain for another excuse, but she was looking up at him with those big green eyes. "Yeah, okay."

Buffy smiled brightly, and it made him happy he'd agreed, even if he thought he might regret his decision later.

"Great! Now come on upstairs, and I'll get you a suit."

Dutifully, William followed.

*** *** ***

He hadn't even left his bedroom yet, and already, William had an erection. It was times like this that he really hated being eighteen. Just the thought of being alone with a scantily clad woman had him hard as nails.

William couldn't go downstairs like this. For one thing, his swim trunks made it a little difficult to hide what was going on in them. Not that he'd ever found anything to really cover one of his erections, but the thin material wasn't helping in the least.

There wasn't much of a choice. He had to wank off again before he went down there and faced Buffy. Maybe if he got himself off now, he would be able to handle that bikini.

With a sigh of resignation, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out his cock, stroking it as visions of Buffy flickered behind his closed eyelids.

*** *** ***

Buffy was sitting at the edge of the pool, dangling her feet in the water, when she heard William come outside. She turned, ready to greet him, when she saw him and remembered just how gorgeous his chest was.

She wished she'd remembered that before she'd asked him to swim. And now he was going to get into the pool and have water running down those oh-so-lickable abs?

He's your step-son, Buffy. As in Liam's son…the son of the husband you love.

Ah, there it was. The Voice of Reason. So the voice she needed to listen to. Not that other little voice in the back of her mind. That one didn't have anything worthwhile to say at all.

Yum…

"Sorry to keep you waiting, pet," William said as he moved closer, though he offered no explanation for the delay.

Pet… The simple word made Buffy tremble.

Tell him not to call you that. It's inappropriate.

Oooh…I hope he makes a habit of that one.

Already, Buffy was giving herself a headache.

"That's all right," Buffy replied, deciding she would just ignore it all together.

Buffy slipped off the edge of the pool and into the water. She really needed to cool down. That California sun sure could heat her up in a hurry…

William watched as Buffy went into the water only to come up a moment later. Her scarlet bikini clung to her curves, her blonde hair slick back from her face.

His cock twitched, and he cursed silently. Didn't it remember he'd come all of five minutes earlier?

"Gonna join me?" Buffy asked, her lip quirking up.

His cock jumped more, and William decided he better hurry up and get in the water. Perhaps the cold would help his dilemma.

Buffy watched as William dropped into the pool, then glided smoothly towards her. The water flowed over his back, and Buffy licked her lips at the gorgeous sight.

He stopped right in front of her, close enough so she could feel his breath. Droplets of water ran down the length of him, and Buffy met his eyes and gasped.

A sudden thought entered her head, shocking her to her core with its accuracy.

If this were any other man, any other place, she'd be kissing him now.

But she couldn't kiss William. Ever. So she did the only thing she could do in such a situation.

She splashed him and swam off with a giggle.

Buffy had known William would come after her. It was in keeping with the time-honored traditions of swimming pool flirting—even if she was currently telling herself that was not what she was doing.

Then, William caught her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and lifted her up as she squealed.

Okay, so what if it was a little bit of flirting? It was harmless flirting because it wasn't going to go anywhere. She loved her husband and would never cross the line with anyone, never mind his son.

"That was right naughty of you," William teased as he looked down at her in his arms. He knew he shouldn't be touching her at all, but hell, if she wasn't going to yell at him to stop, then he was going to see how far he could go.

He wasn't naïve enough to think he could seduce her away from his father. William was well aware he had none of the things to offer that Liam did. However, if maybe he could get in a couple of disguised gropes, it would be something.

Buffy was responding before she could stop herself. "I can be pretty naughty sometimes."

William's cock leapt to attention. So much for the cold water… "I see. And do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Buffy pouted, her eyes wide as she shook her head.

William fought back a whimper. Looking at him like that was just playing dirty.

Buffy could feel his erection poking into her, and she fought with every bit of strength in her not to rub against it. He felt…big. When was the last time she'd had one like that?

Stop it. There was the damn Voice of Reason again. Buffy wasn't sure she wanted to hear from the bitch at the moment, though she thought she'd probably be grateful for it later. Liam has enough to satisfy you.

Sometimes…

William's eyes flickered down her chest, unable to stop from watching as her breasts moved up and down, the wet material of her bikini plastered to her skin, making them even more tantalizing.

He was hard, holding her in his arms, and staring at her chest. Buffy knew she should be balking, should be yelling at him for daring to act this way with her. But she didn't want to.

His touch, the way he was looking at her—all of it. It was giving her a thrill.

Knowing it was forbidden only seemed to make her blood warm even more.

Still, she couldn't push it, not past this. Even if she had a dark desire to know more of his touch, she had enough sense about her not to go there. All she could do here was play.

But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the game…

She wriggled out of William's arms, splashed him again, and swam off.

With a shout, William went after her.

*** *** ***

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William couldn't care less about the show Buffy had somehow roped him into watching on television after dinner. They'd spent the entire day together, aside from when Liam had come home and had commanded Buffy's attention just long enough to tell her he had a lot of work to do and would be eating in his office upstairs.

If William hadn't already thought his father was a stupid git, he did now. William knew if he had a beautiful wife like Buffy, he'd spend every moment he could with her.

Suddenly, he saw Buffy's tiny, pink-painted toes in his lap, and he sucked in an almost inaudible breath. She looked over at him, her face the very picture of innocence—if you could ignore the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Is this okay?" she asked. "I wanted to stretch out."

William swallowed as he nodded. "Yeah, sure. It's fine."

Buffy had been around enough to know what she was doing to the boy. She knew she should stop giving into the perverse urge that told her to do things like flirt with him in the pool or lie down on the couch with her feet in his lap, mere inches away from what she thought was most likely a rapidly growing hard-on.

This was so many kinds of wrong she couldn't even list them all.

It was, however, also rather fun.

Maybe that was why she kept getting the urge to do these things. Getting married had meant saying good-bye to playful flirting. Liam was an adult, and around him, she had to be an adult, too. But with William, she could act a little more like a kid again.

Not that she didn't prefer her mature husband, because she did. Completely. She was very happy with Liam, and she had been from the very beginning.

Buffy had just always enjoyed a little flirting, and with William, it was totally harmless.

She settled back down to watch the show, occasionally allowing her toes to run across William's crotch.

It was all completely harmless…

*** *** ***

That night, William didn't even bother trying not to masturbate before he went to sleep, nor did he bother trying to make his fantasy woman anyone but Buffy.

The little blonde had driven him completely out of his mind all day. She seemed to be touching him at every opportunity, and when she wasn't doing that, she was giving him coy little smiles and looks.

He could've sworn she was flirting with him…

However, that didn't make any sense. She was with his father—who was much more of a man than he was, William knew—and she was in love with him, too. Why would she want to flirt with a pathetic sod like him?

She wouldn't. Anything he'd thought was flirting today had simply been his own imagination running away with him, his own perverse fantasies of Buffy making him see things that weren't really there.

Still, as his left hand jacked up and down on his cock, he had plenty from the day to fill his fantasies.

He'd been close enough to smell her, a delicious blend of lavender and vanilla that still had his head swimming. Her skin had been so warm, even when she'd been wet from the pool. And so smooth…

William's hips thrust up jerkily as he tried to imagine what it would be like to feel Buffy around his aching cock. Granted, he didn't have first-hand knowledge with any woman to go from, but he did the best he could.

She'd be soft, that much he knew. And hot…

William groaned loudly, his hand going faster. He pulled up an image of Buffy riding him, gasping in pleasure.

He called out her name when he came, and as reality faded back in around him, William hoped it hadn't been loud enough to be heard all the way down in his father's room.

With a shaky hand, he reached for his tissues.

*** *** ***

Buffy leaned back in her chair by the pool, her closed eyes hidden behind her sunglasses as the sun's warm rays played across her skin.

When she felt his hands on her, she didn't jump. She'd known he was there, even without seeing him.

"Isn't it time to flip over, pet? Roll over onto your stomach, and I'll lotion up your back."

Buffy opened her eyes, William's shadow falling over her. She smiled at him before she rolled over, then murmured in pleasure as he began to rub suntan lotion on her bare back.

His hands were strong, warm, and steady. Buffy's eyes fell shut again, small noises of satisfaction sounding in her throat. She felt so relaxed…

Until suddenly, his hand slipped down, probing her dampened folds, and her eyes opened again. "Will? What…what are you doing?"

"What you want me to do, Buffy," he replied, his voice low with desire. "Shh…it'll be all right, pet. Dad never needs to know."

Buffy cried out when his cock slid into her, his hands gripping her hips to pull her back onto him. She rose up on her elbows, moaning as he thrust into her over and over again.

He was long and thick, touching every part of her, and Buffy knew she couldn't stop this even if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.

"You like this, don't you, you bad girl," William said as his thrusts grew harder. "You like me fucking you when Daddy's at work. You want me to do it to you every day, don't you?"

"Yes!" Buffy cried, though from pleasure or as an answer to his question, she wasn't sure. Her body was tense, on the edge of a monster of an orgasm.

William leaned in, his mouth pressed against her ear. "You're mine, Buffy. You're not his. You'll never be his. You're mine."

With his last word, his teeth sunk into her shoulder, and Buffy screamed in release.

Buffy was drenched with sweat when she sat up in the bed, her hand going over her rapidly beating heart. She turned towards the other side of the bed, grateful when she saw Liam sound asleep.

She didn't want to have to explain if she'd done something like call his son's name out in her sleep…

Buffy buried her face in her hands as it hit her exactly what had just happened.

She'd had a sex dream about her step-son.

The step-son with whom she'd spent all day flirting.

Buffy got out of bed and went to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She made her way over to the white marble sink, gripping the edge of the cool stone as she tried to steady herself.

Suddenly, the harmless flirting didn't seem so harmless…

She reached out and turned on the faucet, then splashed her face with cold water. After a moment, she turned the faucet off and looked into the mirror.

"It was just a dream," she told her reflection. "It doesn't mean you really want William to do that. It was just a dream."

A dream that gotten her hotter than her husband had in months.

Buffy groaned, her shoulders slumping. Maybe that was all this was, a bout of sexual frustration.

Only Liam was a perfectly satisfying lover…or so she kept telling herself.

"I love my husband," Buffy said, forcing herself to stand up straight again. "I love him, and he's the only man I want."

Repeating her mantra over and over in her head, Buffy went back to the bed and climbed in beside Liam.

*** *** ***

Buffy awoke the next morning to the sounds of Liam getting ready for work. In the light of day, the dream from the night before seemed less worrisome.

It was just a dream, after all. It didn't mean she wanted William. She couldn't be held accountable for what her subconscious came up with.

However, maybe it would be better if he spent a little time away from her.

"Honey?"

As he searched for the tie he wanted to wear, Liam responded with a, "hmm?"

"Did you have a chance to see if you have any time you could spend with William coming up?"

Liam slammed his hand against the door of the closet, the harsh sound making Buffy jump. "Dammit, Buffy! Would you shut up about that? Fuck, I've got enough stress in my life with a goddam nagging wife."

Buffy sat up in the bed, tears stinging her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just thought…"

"No, you didn't think," Liam snapped as he stepped out, roughly fixing his tie. "You just sit in the house all day without a damn thing to do and forget I have to work to afford you that luxury. My job is important, Buffy. It's about time you grew the hell up and realized it."

"I'm sorry," Buffy said again.

Without another word, Liam stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Buffy didn't want to cry. She'd shed too many tears in her life already.

Yet as she heard Liam bounding down the stairs, she couldn't help but let them fall.

*** *** ***

William woke sharply to the sound of a door slamming, followed moments later by heavy footsteps on the stairs.

He'd woken up like this enough mornings to have a pretty good idea of what it was.

Immediately, he climbed out of bed and went down the hall, Buffy in the front of his mind.

He knocked on the door to her bedroom, and when she didn't answer, he poked his head in.

Relieved, he saw her face was only tearstained.

"Pet, you okay?" he asked softly.

Buffy looked up at him. She wanted to tell him yes, she was fine.

She shook her head no.

William moved over to her side of the bed and sat on the edge before holding his arms out to her. She immediately accepted his embrace, wanting the comfort too much to deny it to herself.

William's eyes glanced down to look up and down her arms as he rubbed soothing circles against her back.

"Did he yell?" he asked gently.

Buffy nodded. "It was my fault, though. He…he's busy, and I know that, and I was nagging him anyway, and I shouldn't nag him. I have to remember he works all day, and I don't."

William swallowed, Buffy's words making him hurt for her. "I doubt it was your fault, Buffy."

"It was." Buffy pulled back and wiped her eyes. "He doesn't like me to bother him when he's rushing to get ready for work. Of course he yelled at me. And…and now I'm just crying like a big baby, and you probably think I'm being so stupid."

"No, lamb, I don't," William said softly as he reached out and stroked a tear away from her cheek. "Just because he was getting ready for work doesn't give Liam any right to yell at you."

Buffy trembled, though now it wasn't from her tears. He was so close, his expressive blue eyes trained on her, and she could feel the heat radiating between them.

Suddenly, she was very aware they were sitting on her bed, her only in her thin, silk nightgown and him in his boxers. "You shouldn't be in here like this," she said, pulling away.

"No, probably not," he agreed. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine," Buffy assured him. "Married couples fight. It wasn't even that big of a deal." She looked away.

"Buffy…"

Buffy looked back up quickly, her bright smile now back in place. "I'm fine, really. It was just a thing, I'm good. So are you up for the morning or are you going to go back to bed?"

William wanted to pull her back into his arms, but he could tell from her body language that she wasn't going to allow that. "I'm up," he told her.

"Then how about we both get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast? I know I could use a cup of coffee."

"Yeah, all right," William agreed with a nod. Eating breakfast with her was better than nothing.

*** *** ***

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Buffy was chipper when she came down to breakfast, any traces of her tears from that morning wiped clean. William tried to ask her if she was okay, but she'd brushed it off, making it quite clear her marriage wasn't going to be a topic of discussion.

William let it drop, but he didn't push it out of his mind.

After breakfast, she'd brought up going swimming again, and William hadn't tried to get out of it this time. He wished he could get control of his hormones, but since he couldn't, then he was just going to hope he got the chance to touch Buffy again.

He did. She wasn't wearing the red bikini today, though the dark green one she wore in its place was good enough for William. It went so well with her eyes.

She'd splashed him and swam off again, and like before, he'd chased after her.

Only this time, when he caught her, he'd wrapped one arm tightly around her waist and started tickling her with his other hand.

Buffy squealed in protest even as she laughed, her bottom squirming tantalizingly against him under the water. William moved his hand up, "accidentally" brushing the underside of her breasts as he continued to tickle her.

When she didn't call him on it, he did it again.

Finally, Buffy managed to wriggle her way free, and she swam off again, casting a daring look over her shoulder, leading William to chase her some more.

When he caught her again, he pinned her against the pool wall, the diving board looming over head and casting them in shadow.

Buffy's breath caught as she looked into his eyes, the lust there as evident as his erection nudging her through his swim trunks. Her breath came in short, harsh pants, and William's gaze flickered to her breasts, watching them unabashedly as they moved up and down.

Buffy had played this game enough to know if she didn't make a move, the line was going to be crossed.

And part of her really wanted to cross it…

She couldn't. She knew it was bad enough she was playing with William at all, but she didn't feel she'd done anything yet that would be a danger to her marriage. She had to keep things that way.

So with a smirk, she reached out and tickled him, making him push away. "Oi, now!" he protested, returning her smirk with one of his own.

Buffy stuck her tongue out. His eyes darkened again.

With a teasing grin, she swam away.

*** *** ***

William leaned with his right hand against the shower wall, his left hand soapy as he reached for his cock. He'd stayed in the pool with Buffy for close to two hours, his erection plaguing him the whole time.

He wondered how he'd managed to move, never mind swim, but the urge to go after Buffy every time she'd slipped from his grasp had kept him going.

His orgasm hit him in under a minute, and he cried out with relief in the shower stall.

With the water rushing over him, William continued to lean against the wall, panting.

*** *** ***

"This show bites. Give me the remote."

"No way! All My Children sooo does not bite. And you're not getting the remote."

"It does. Bloody tripe. Now if you want to talk about a good soap opera, that's Passions."

From across the couch, Buffy looked at William, her eyebrow raised. "Passions? You have got to be kidding me. That woman has demons living in her basement! And I'm sorry, but the whole idea of people living in a town controlled by evil mystical forces is just ridiculous."

"No, see, that's the beauty of it," William argued. "It doesn't take itself too seriously."

Buffy's lip quirked up. "I'm starting to think maybe there's more to you than meets the eye," she teased.

"I'm a man of many layers," William replied, smiling back.

"Well, fine. How about this—you let me watch All My Children, and when it's over, I'll switch over to Passions. Deal?"

"I can live with that."

"Good."

Buffy set the remote control on the coffee table, then laid down, situation her head in William's lap. Again, the rational part of her brain told her this was not something she should be doing, but she was quite comfortable now where she was and decided rationality could take a flying leap.

William stared down at her, his breath catching as he wondered what he should do. The position seemed so intimate, and he couldn't figure out why she was doing this sort of thing with him.

Maybe, he thought, she merely felt comfortable around him. Someone like him could never seem to pose a threat, anyway. It wasn't like she just wanted her head nestled against his crotch.

It took William a moment to realize he'd begun stroking her hair, but when he did realize it, he didn't stop. Buffy hadn't called him on it, so it must be all right for him to do it. She'd tell him if he was doing something inappropriate, wouldn't she?

He was beginning to think Buffy wasn't the sort of person who had a lot of personal boundaries. Maybe that was what all of this was—she was just the touchy feely sort. She'd probably be completely shocked to know he'd been reacting to her sexually.

Not that the thought did anything to change how he reacted.

Buffy had grown completely still at the first touch of William's hand against her hair, even her breath catching. This was yet another thing she shouldn't allow to happen, yet she couldn't seem to make herself want to stop it either. His hands were shaky, yet his touch felt nice.

Liam never just held her like this.

Neither her early courtship nor her actual relationship with her husband had been like what she was used to, yet Buffy had written that off to it being her first—and only—real adult relationship. Every other date she'd had had been with someone she'd met in either high school or college. Liam, however, was a grown up, so of course he was going to act differently from what she was used to.

Liam often reminded her she was younger than him and, therefore, not as mature. She knew she should be grateful for how patient he was with her instead of lamenting the things he didn't do.

Yet she couldn't help but enjoy how it felt to share a moment like this with William now.

She tried to concentrate on the show, even though her thoughts seemed to remained focused on the trail of long fingers through her hair.

*** *** ***

Buffy was sitting in bed painting her toes when Liam came home from work that night.

"I wish you wouldn't do that in the bed," he said gruffly as he went into the closet and started taking off his suit. "You're going to spill that fucking pink paint all over the place."

"I've never spilled it before," Buffy replied. "I'm careful."

"If you ruin the sheets, it's coming out of your allowance."

Buffy bit her bottom lip as she finished her last toe and recapped the polish, then placed the bottle on the nightstand. "Liam, I'm really sorry about this morning, honey. I know I should just mind my own business, and I feel bad about nagging you like that, especially when you were trying to get ready for work."

Liam stepped out into main part of the bedroom again, dressed only in his boxers now. "Are you fucking him?"

Buffy's eyes widened in shock and she gasped. "What?"

"It's a simple question, Buffy. Are you fucking William—yes or no?"

"No! God, Liam, I can't believe you'd even think… No!"

"I don't know why you're acting so outraged I'd ask. You're alone with him all day, and you've obviously taken an unusual interest in him," Liam said, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Besides, it's not like you were exactly known for keeping your pants on before we were married."

Hot tears stung Buffy's eyes. "You…you know why I had to do that. I hated it, Liam. But I love you, and I've never been anything but loyal to our marriage."

"See that it stays that way," Liam said, his pointer finger trained on her. "If I find out you've been fucking anyone else, you're going to lose all these comforts I've spoiled you with real quick." He dropped his arm and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Buffy felt physically sick. She hadn't slept with William, hadn't done anything overtly sexual, but between the flirting and the dream, she knew Liam would have a right to be upset with her.

His words and tone had been sharp, but she couldn't fault him for that. After all, it hadn't been that long ago when he'd found out his last wife had been sleeping around on him. He was probably still hurting from that—even if he had moved on with Buffy—and it made perfect sense for him to be sensitive about the subject.

Buffy resolved right then to stop flirting and playing little games with William. No matter how much she was enjoying it, it needed to end. Liam was her husband, and she needed to keep herself loyal to her marriage in every way.

Starting right then, Buffy would keep her physical distance from William.

*** *** ***

Buffy smiled coyly at William as he kept her loosely pinned against the wall of the pool. Her body was flushed, her breathing labored.

Hadn't there been some reason she wasn't supposed to do this?

She couldn't remember now…

William watched her intently, waiting for her to make a move. He'd already had her like this five times today, and every time, she'd managed to dart away.

This time, she wasn't moving. Instead, she was staring up him, her gaze not wavering. It was almost as if she were…

Challenging him.

His stint at an all-boys boarding school and his usual shyness had lead to an experience level with the opposite sex of roughly zilch. But over the past couple of days, he'd been unable to shake the feeling Buffy was playing some sort of game with him, one to which he instinctively seemed to know the rules.

She wasn't running—did that mean he'd caught her?

And if he had, what was he supposed to do with her?

His gaze was drawn down to her lips, and he marveled at how pink and moist they were. They were parted slightly and trembling.

William moved in closer, feeling a pull towards Buffy. She stayed where she was, even when his mouth first touched hers.

Buffy could tell this was either William's first kiss or at least one of only a few he'd ever experienced. It was a little awkward, as if he didn't completely know what to do with his lips. Yet there was a raw heat there as well, something simmering just below the surface.

The potential for so much more…

All thoughts of Liam were gone from her mind as Buffy tangled her fingers in William's hair and tilted his head, showing him a new angle.

Their lips eased into a better fit, and he kissed her with renewed fervor.

After the past few days of playing games of courtship, Buffy felt like she was on fire. She lifted her legs up, letting them float around William's waist as he moved closer to her, his erection pressing intimately against her.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth, gently coaxing William into slowing down when he first responded a little too eagerly.

The whole time, he rubbed himself against her through his swim trunks, and Buffy shivered at the delicious sensations it was sending through her clit. She'd forgotten how good it could feel to just make out like this.

Suddenly, William froze, his whole body shaking as he groaned into her mouth.

He pulled away sharply, looking positively mortified, and Buffy knew exactly what had happened.

"Buffy, I'm… Oh god, I'm sorry." William hurried out of the pool and ran into the house before Buffy could say a word.

*** *** ***

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE ABOUT POSTING:Due to real life issues (namely, a promotion that's going to give me less free time), I'm going to have to cut back on posting. I'm hoping I can still post once a week, and I'm planning to update this story on Wednesdays. Since I'm still not sure how much of my time the new position is going to take up, I can't make any guarantees right now, but I'm hoping to be able to get a chapter out a week. If I can't, or the chapter comes late, please be understanding. Fanfiction doesn't come first in my life, and I have to pay my bills. Do know, however, that I have no intention of abandoning my stories, and I will do everything I can to keep getting new chapters up in a timely manner.

Please review!

Buffy stood outside of William's door, wondering what exactly she was going to say to him.

What did a woman say to her stepson after letting him come all over her in the swimming pool?

It had been a mistake, that much Buffy knew. And really, she couldn't blame William. From the way he'd run off, he was clearly mortified, and Buffy didn't think for a minute it had been his intention for things to go that way.

She had led him on with the games she'd been playing for the past few days. He was an eighteen year old boy—of course he'd responded to her in such a manner. She was the adult—the married adult. She should've known better than to allow things to reach this point.

Steeling herself, Buffy knocked on the door. "William? It's Buffy. Can I talk to you for a moment?"

He didn't respond at first, and Buffy almost just left when she heard him call, "Come in."

Buffy opened the door slowly, her heart clenching when she saw him. He was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, looking like the very picture of misery. He'd changed out of his swim trunks, but his eyes were red as if he'd been crying at some point.

"You don't have to yell at me, Buffy," William said, his gaze pointed downwards. "I know what I did was wrong, and I know I disgust you now. I know I can't simply say I'm sorry and make it better, but believe me Buffy, I really am. So I'll just stay up here, out of your way, and won't bother you anymore. And…and if you want to tell Liam, I'll understand that, I just ask that you'd please warn me first so I can get away from here."

Buffy sat down on the bed, unable to keep herself from placing a hand on his leg to comfort him. "I'm not going to tell Liam. And I'm not going to yell at you either. I was there, too, kissing you just as much as you were kissing me. And if it had gone on much longer, well…" Buffy blushed, then admitted softly, "You probably wouldn't have been the only one reacting, um, so strongly."

William looked up at that. "Buffy, what's going on here?"

"I have no idea," Buffy replied with a sigh. "I mean, this is all wrong. I know that much. And I love my husband, so why I keep feeling the urge to flirt with his son is beyond me."

"So you have been flirting then?"

Buffy blushed a little more. "Yeah. You couldn't notice?"

"I thought maybe you were, but… No one's ever flirted with me before, I couldn't be certain."

"Really?" Buffy asked, surprised by his confession despite his obvious inexperience when he'd been kissing her.

"Yeah, really. Why would they?"

"Maybe because you're really good looking?" Buffy replied. "You do know you're a honey, don't you?"

Much to her surprise, Buffy's words seemed to anger William more than anything else. "Look, I don't know what sort of game you're playing with me or why you're doing it, but could you just stop? I got in enough trouble for sleeping with my father's wife when I didn't do it. I don't want to see what would happen if he found out I'd actually touched you. So please, just go take your desperate housewife routine somewhere else. I don't need you flirting with me or trying to pretend I'm attractive."

His words took Buffy completely by surprise. "I'm not… William, it's not like that. I've never done this sort of thing with anyone. I've never even thought about touching another guy since I married Liam. Everything that's happened has been just me reacting to you."

Buffy gently laid her hand over his. "I'm sorry about all of this. I let things get out of control, and really, this is my fault. Something about being around you apparently makes my hormones go a little crazy, and it led me to push things in a direction they shouldn't have gone. What happened today in the pool was a mistake, but I don't want it to mean we have to stay away from each other completely. We're still going to have to be living under the same roof for the next several weeks, and, current awkwardness aside, I've enjoyed your company. I'd like to keep hanging out with you, if that's all right. Just, well, with some ground rules."

William looked at her for a moment, his head cocked slightly to the side. If he'd been confused before Buffy came up to his bedroom, he was well passed confusion now. For all he knew, she was still playing some kind of twisted game with him that he was too naïve to understand, but were that the case, then he was simply going to let her.

He thought it may make him pathetic, but he was desperate to get to stay around Buffy any way he could.

"What do you mean by ground rules?" he asked.

"Well, for starters, no more touching." Buffy suddenly jerked her hand up, realizing it was still on top of his. "Like that. And I know most of it has been me, but it needs to stop before we have a repeat of what happened in the pool."

Honestly, William really wanted a repeat of that. And then some. However, he saw the logic in her point.

"So no more touching," William agreed with a nod. "We'll keep things strictly platonic."

Buffy smiled at him. "Okay then. Ground rule set, and now we can just put that whole pool thing behind us."

"Right," William agreed with a nod.

"Okay, well, that's all settled then," Buffy said as she stood, walking backwards towards the door. "I'm just going to go…lie down for a bit. I'm feeling sort of tired."

"All right. I'll see you later then, Buffy."

"See ya." Buffy hurried out of William's room and back down to her own bedroom.

*** *** ***

Buffy was more sexually frustrated than she had been in a long time. She couldn't remember when she'd last had a decent orgasm, and right now her body was making it plain she was in need of a release.

She'd been lying in bed ever since she'd left William's room, trying not to think about the way his body had felt up against hers. She always felt a little awkward with Liam, his body too bulky to really fit with hers.

But William… He'd fit in between her legs perfectly, and that long, thick cock she knew he had had felt wonderful rubbing against her swollen pussy.

Buffy grabbed a pillow off the bed and put it over her face to muffle her scream. She couldn't be doing this. She was married, and it wasn't like she and Liam didn't have an active sex life. He made love to her several times a week. If it wasn't enough to satisfy her, then something must be wrong with her.

She tossed the pillow away and blew a strand of hair out of her face. Something definitely was wrong with her. Instead of being perfectly content with her husband, she was lusting after his barely-legal son. That was textbook wrong.

Still, in her current state, it was undeniable.

Grumbling to herself, Buffy ripped open her bedside drawer and dug around until she found the box in the back where she kept her vibrator. It embarrassed her to keep one when she was a married woman, but she knew Liam was busy and didn't always have time to take care of her.

He'd made it quite clear that he didn't want to be bothered when he had work to do because she couldn't control her libido.

Still, she tried to use the vibrator sparingly, but this was an emergency.

She roughly pushed off her shorts and panties, kicking them both to the end of the bed. Already wet enough that she didn't need to bother with teasing herself, Buffy pushed the jelly shaft inside of her, lining the part that protruded from that at her clit, and cranked the power up to high.

Within moments, she was moaning, her hips thrusting as the vibrator's shaft rotated inside of her. She knew she should be thinking about Liam, or at the very least, some safe fantasy like Brad Pitt, but instead her mind was replaying what had occurred between her and William in the pool.

She could remember everything. His harsh, warm breath, his damp skin, the thrust of his hard cock against her…

What would it have felt like if nothing had been between them? If he'd been able to thrust inside of her, take her right against the wall of the pool?

Pondering the answer to that particular question had her coming hard, gasping and moaning as she twisted against the sheets.

Buffy was panting and sweaty as she switched her vibrator off, letting it slide out of her body and flop onto the bed. With a whimper, she realized her orgasm had only taken the edge off. She was still thinking about what it would be like to ride William into oblivion.

She'd bet good money he was a virgin, and oh wouldn't it be nice to break him in?

With a sigh of resignation, Buffy picked up the vibrator and started again.

*** *** ***

After all the dinners he'd already skipped, Buffy figured it was just her luck Liam would pick that night of all nights to eat with her and William. William had looked as surprised as she was when Liam had taken his seat.

Then, she'd seen William's eyes darken, something she didn't want to identify crossing over them when Liam had leaned in and given Buffy a deep, possessive kiss.

His dark eyes flickered across the table to his son when Liam pulled away from Buffy, and William got the message as clearly as it Liam had just dragged Buffy up to his cave.

William looked down at his plate.

"So how was work, honey?" Buffy asked, trying her best to ignore the by play between father and son. The tension between them was heavy, and Buffy didn't think she wanted to be the one caught in the middle of it.

"Buffy, I've told you over and over again that I don't want to think about my goddamn job when I'm trying to eat dinner. Do you ever bother listening to a word I say?"

"I'm sorry," Buffy said softly.

"You don't have to snap at her," William said, his head coming up quickly. "She was just trying to make conversation."

Almost as soon as William spoke, he felt a wave of fear. Why in the world had he just stood up to his father? What had he been thinking?

Liam, however, broke into laughter. "Oh, well look at Willie thinking he's a man. Are you trying to impress her, boy?"

His mind was screaming at him to shut up and advert eye contact before things turned bad, but something inside of William snapped, and he didn't back down.

Maybe he was trying to impress Buffy, he didn't know. Either way, he was going to say what he wanted to, no matter how severe the possible punishment would be. He lifted his chin up. "I just don't think you should talk to her like that. Buffy's a good woman. She doesn’t deserve that."

"Oh, well, she's a good woman," Liam said, his tone mocking. Suddenly, he jumped up and slammed his hands against the table hard enough to rattle the plates. "Look, you little shit, she's my woman, so don't you go sniffing around this one's cunt, you got it?"

Buffy gasped in shock. "Liam! What's wrong with you?"

He turned to Buffy, a look in his eyes she'd never seen there before. "You shut the hell up."

Then, he was staring William down again. "I let you slide with Eve, but don't think for a minute I have to do any of the things I do for you. If I catch you even thinking about touching my wife, it's over for you and your whore of a mother."

Liam stormed out of the dining room, leaving his dinner mostly untouched.

"I'm sorry about that," Buffy said after several moments of awkward silence. "I'm sure he didn't mean that. Sometimes he just…"

"Save it," William said tersely as he stood. "You don't have to make excuses for him to me, Buffy. I'm the one who's known him for eighteen years."

William walked out of the dining room, leaving Buffy alone.

*** *** ***

There will be no posts next week, as I will be going out of town for Thanksgiving. Sorry!

Than you to everyone who congratulated me on the promotion. I really appreciated it. :)

Please review!

Buffy didn't pay any attention to Liam when he came into the bedroom that night, hoping she could convince him he was asleep. However, when she felt the bed dip from his weight, then his hand on her shoulder a moment later, she gave in and looked over at him.

The moonlight coming in from between the curtains allowed Liam to see the tears in her eyes, and he brushed them away with his thumb. "Buffy, baby, I'm sorry about tonight. I'm just so stressed with work, and it's making me edgy."

"I know, but you didn't have to yell at us like that," Buffy replied, her tone soft and tinged with sadness.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I guess part of that, well, I never really got over what happened with William and Eve."

"I don't think anything did happen between then," Buffy said, finally meeting her husband's eyes.

Liam abruptly dropped his hand away from her. "What makes you say that? Has he talked about it?"

"No, I just don't think he did. He doesn't act like someone who would try to seduce his father's wife." Buffy thought it would be for the best if she didn't explain to Liam that it had been William's responses to her advances which had lead her to that conclusion.

"I want to think that," Liam said with a sigh. "It's just William has so much anger towards me, and I don't know why. I guess Darla must've fed him all sorts of lies over the years. I've tried really hard to be a good father to him, but he shuts me down at every turn, and it's frustrating. We were close when he was a little boy, and now I don't know how to relate to him anymore. Sometimes it's like he does things just to hurt me, which is why I'm not sure what to believe when it comes to everything with Eve."

Buffy rolled over on her side to better face her husband. "Have you talked to him about it?"

"I don't really know what to say. We've grown so far apart. It's like my own son is a stranger. I guess that's why I've been avoiding him all week. I'm afraid of how things could go if I tried to spend time with him."

Buffy's anger towards him was all but melted as she reached out and stroked Liam's cheek. "He's a very good boy, Liam. I bet things would go better than you think if gave it a chance."

"I'll try to build up the nerve," Liam replied. "I know I seem so strong most of the time, but I can still be insecure."

"I know, baby," Buffy said as she leaned in and kissed him gently.

As soon as she did, Liam rolled over and tried to situate himself between her legs. Buffy frowned and pulled back from his mouth. "Liam, I'm tired. I'm not really in the mood for this."

"Oh come on, Buffy, don't play these silly little games with me. I've had a long, stressful day, and I need a release. You're my wife, which means you're supposed to give me it to me."

Liam kissed her again, pushing his tongue roughly into her mouth as his hand slid up her thigh to bunch up the bottom of her nightgown. With an internal sigh, Buffy let her legs fall apart and held on to his shoulders.

*** *** ***

Buffy had worried how the first day with their new "ground rule" in place would go; however, when William didn't leave his bedroom all morning, she didn't get her chance to find out.

She knew he was awake. She'd stood outside his door, debating with herself over whether or not she should knock as she listened to the sounds of him moving around inside. She wanted to talk to him, to make sure things were good between them, but finally, she convinced herself to walk away.

Still, as she sat alone on the couch watching television, she worried. What if after the incident in the pool and then what had happened at dinner, William didn't want to be around her anymore? What if he spent the rest of the summer locked away in his room, as he'd said he would do when he'd first arrived? Buffy wasn't sure she could stand having him so close, yet cut off from her.

At that thought, she shook her head, trying to force it back. It sounded too much like a thought one would have about a potential lover, not someone who was completely off-limits, as William was. Perhaps it was better if he remained in his room. At least it would reduce the temptation to push things to a place they shouldn't go.

Yet when she heard William walk into the room, relief flooded through her. She could see him out of the corner of her eye, watching her from the doorway as she watched the television, and she waited for him to speak.

"Watching All My Children?"

Buffy glanced quickly over at him, trying to play it cool in a way she knew was more keeping in line with the rules of flirtation than in truly keeping her distance. "Yeah. It's almost time for Passions if you want to come in here and watch it."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"No."

William took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, and the space between them felt almost like a third presence in the room. Buffy wanted nothing more than to move closer, to touch him again, and she could tell by the way William's hands were fidgeting against his legs he was fighting the same urge. Still, they allowed the distance to remain.

As All My Children ended, Buffy switched over to NBC without a word, Her eyes remained on the television, though her thoughts were anywhere but on the denizens of Harmony.

"You two having a nice afternoon?"

Buffy gasped at the sound of her husband's voice, then turned quickly, startled. "Liam! You're home early." She forced a bright smile forward.

"I thought I'd do some work at home this afternoon," Liam replied, his eyes trained on William even as he responded to Buffy. "Will? Can I talk to you alone for a moment?"

William swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. Nothing good ever followed a request like that from his father, yet he knew if he tried to refuse, it would only make things worse.

"Yes, sir," he said, his head down and his eyes off Buffy as he left the room and followed Liam.

Liam led William upstairs to his office, dread growing in William the whole way up. The sound of the door shutting resonated behind him, and William knew whatever his father was about to say was not something he wanted Buffy to hear.

Liam crossed his arms over his chest as he appraised his son with cold eyes. "You know, seeing as you were down there watching soap operas with her like you've got a pussy, maybe everything I'm about to say is completely pointless. You like cock, boy?"

His eyes trained on the carpet, William shook his head. "No."

"You sure? You always were a fucking wuss. It wouldn't surprise me to find out I have a queer for a son."

"I'm not," William said, his voice barely above a whisper. He wondered belatedly if maybe he should've just said he was. Maybe then his father would lay off of him about Buffy. Because William knew exactly where this was going… His only hope was that Liam was going completely on speculation and worries and didn't know about what had happened in the pool the day before.

If Liam knew William had touched Buffy, William wasn't sure he'd make it out of the room in one piece.

"Then you want to fuck my wife."

William flinched. "I'm not…I won't…"

"Don't lie to me, boy. Any man that likes pussy is going to want hers. Why do you think I married the damn woman? Hot little piece of tail like that in my bed. Mmm. Lot better than those other mouthy bitches I married. Especially that whore you call a mother."

William swallowed hard. As much as his relationship with his mother wasn't one he'd classify as loving, hearing his father talk about her like that still upset him.

Darla may have been cruel, but Liam was so much worse—and had done so much to her.

To both of them…

"Tell me the truth. Tell me you want to fuck my wife."

"I don't… I wouldn't…" William stammered, unable to fight the fear being alone with Liam like this brought forward in him.

Liam grabbed William's arm, twisting it as his fingers dug into the young man's skin hard enough to bruise. "Don't lie to me, you little shit. I know what you're thinking every time you're with her. Tell me the truth. Say it so I can hear."

William fought back tears. He knew his father well enough to know what would happen if he dared to cry. "Yes, all right! I want her. But I won't…"

"Damn right you won't," Liam snapped as he let go of William, sending him staggering backwards. He sneered at the teen. "She wouldn't want you anyway, you know. Women like real men, not pathetic little pussies like you."

His head down again, William nodded. "I know."

"Good. But just in case you forget, I'm going to be doing more work at home. I'll be coming home some afternoons, but you won't know what day or what time. So any time you think maybe you want to touch my wife, you just remember, I could walk in the door at any moment. And if I find your filthy hands on her, I'll kill you. Understand?"

William nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"That's my boy," Liam said with a grin. He draped his arm over William's shoulders. "Now, if Buffy asks, we were in here doing some sort of father-son bonding, opening up the channels of communication, or whatever Oprah tells women we should do. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Liam brought his forearm up, choking William. "That's 'yes, sir.'"

"Yes, sir," William forced out.

William gasped for air as Liam let him go. "Good. Now get out."

Without looking back, William hurried out of Liam's office. He knew, after that conversation, he should probably just stay away from Buffy all together, yet his feet seemed to be heading in her direction on their own accord. He couldn't touch her, he knew, but at least with Buffy, he felt something he'd rarely felt before in his eighteen years.

She made him feel like he mattered.

*** *** ***

The moment William followed Liam out of the room, Buffy began to worry. She tried to tell herself it was crazy to be as concerned as she was—after all, it wasn't like Liam was going to hurt his own son—but she couldn't shake that nagging feeling.

For the past couple of days, she'd started to wonder if Liam was the man she'd thought she'd married. He'd seemed so different, her loving husband replaced by something cold and cruel.

Buffy didn't like what she was seeing, and she didn't want to think for a moment that maybe she'd married someone she didn't really know. Instead, she wanted to rationalize it all, tell herself Liam didn't mean the things he'd said, and that he truly did love her. Everything he'd said to her, all the promises he'd whispered as he'd held her, they couldn't be the lies.

She'd been saved from the hell her life had become by her Prince Charming, and she couldn't lose that now.

When William came back into the room, his head down, Buffy felt her worry fighting with her need for denial again. "Will? What happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Buffy," William insisted, forcing himself to look up, though he couldn't meet her eyes. "We just talked." He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat and added, "Opening the channels of communication and whatnot."

He was giving her the answer she wanted to hear, but some part of her was still having a hard time accepting it. Buffy's eyes fixated to a spot on his neck, and she frowned. "Will, your neck is red. Are you all right?"

William flinched. "Sunburn. I've spent so much time at school in England, that I'm not used to the California sun."

Buffy frowned. "Are you sure? It doesn't look like…"

"Bloody hell, I'm sure!" William yelled. "Would you just let it go?"

"I'm sorry," Buffy said, flinching away.

Immediately, William felt bad for snapping at her. When it came to Liam's cruelty, William knew she was a victim, too—even if he wasn't sure she realized it yet. "No, I'm sorry. I had no right to yell at you."

"William, what's going on?" Buffy asked, her need to know what was causing this nagging feeling inside of her pushing aside her desire for denial for the moment.

He wanted to tell her. William wanted to give her the truth, tell her what sort of man she was married to, and then curl up in her arms and let her take the hurt away. But he couldn't. He knew well enough to know it wouldn't happen the way he wanted it to. If she believed him, and she tried to get away from Liam because of it, they'd both get hurt.

If she didn't, she'd push him away in favor of Liam, and he wasn't sure he could handle such a rejection.

William looked up at her, calling up on years of experience in covering for his father. "Nothing. We only talked, Buffy. I'm just tired, is all."

Buffy looked skeptical for a moment before her expression softened again and she accepted what he told her at face value. It could be sunburn. Maybe she just hadn't noticed until now... "Okay."

William smiled at her, relieved she seemed to be letting it drop. "So tell me how Passions ended?"

Smiling back, Buffy filled him in.

*** *** ***

I don't know when there's going to be another chapter, because I currently don't have one. In all honesty, I haven't written a single word on this fic in over a month. (This chapter was written in mid October.) This is for two reasons. One is I am so incredibly busy with work, it's not even funny. I've worked overtime every night this week, and even on the nights when I don't, after spending all day doing dictation for two Dictaphone-happy lawyers, I really don't feel like coming home to look at a computer.

The other reason, is, well, not really writer's block, since technically I know where I want this story to go, but I don't know, maybe writer apathy? It's not that I don't want to finish the story, but when I sit down to work on it, I can't really get into it. My thoughts just aren't flowing, and I end up just staring at the blank page with a deer in headlights look despite the fact I have it plotted all the way to the distant end. So I'm asking a favor. This is in NO WAY blackmail. I want to make it very clear that I'm not saying "everyone give lots of reviews or I won't post anymore!" because that's not the truth, and not something I'd do. Eventually, I will finish this story, and hopefully, I'm not going to have to put it on an extended hiatus. But if even one of you could do something for me, it would be great, and I'd be so very thankful.

Here's the deal. A lot of times, when someone gives me a review telling me their thoughts on where a fic has gone so far, it gets me thinking about it and inspires me to write. It's amazingly helpful just to see a fic from another view point. Often times, readers say something I hadn't even thought of, and it gets the wheels turning in my mind. Even if it isn't what I'd planned or where I think it's going at all, just seeing what someone else thinks can get me thinking about a story in a whole new way. So if any of you would be willing to leave me a review or send me an email (addie_logan@yahoo.com) just giving me your thoughts on the fic so far, I would be eternally grateful. I need something to kick me out of this, and I think that would help. It doesn't have to be a dissertation, just a few thoughts could do it. Thank you.

The amount of times Buffy had seen William over the past three days was probably small enough that she could count it on one hand. Ever since Liam had come home early and found them watching soap operas together, William had withdrawn completely, refusing any real contact with either Buffy or his father.

It bothered her—for more than one reason. The obvious one was simply that she missed William. And not only because she was back on her own again. She missed him, missed his company specifically. She knew not just anyone would do when it came to chasing off her loneliness.

However, that was not what bothered her the most. The thought she couldn't seem to drive out of her mind in those long, empty hours was wondering what had gone on behind closed doors when Liam had led William off. She wanted to believe it was as simple and innocuous as both men had claimed, but a niggling feeling in the back of her mind telling Buffy it was otherwise wouldn't seem to go away.

If it was as they had said, then why had William retreated so far now? And why was Liam constantly in a foul mood, snapping at Buffy every time she opened her mouth—and sometimes when she didn't?

The tension level in the house was unbearably high, setting Buffy on edge. She felt ready to burst, the stress of simply breathing seeming to cause an unbearable strain.

It certainly hadn't helped matters when Liam had announced that morning that she was accompanying him to a cocktail party later in the evening.

If there was one thing about her marriage Buffy had never been happy with, it was attending things such as this with Liam. She always felt like an outsider, so clearly the one who didn't belong. The men leered at her, giving Liam knowing winks and praise for scoring someone so young and attractive, while the other wives glared at her, ostracizing her because she wasn't a true part of their social strata.

Her previous profession was juicy enough to be gossip, even if Liam had seen to it that the rumors were never confirmed. Yet rumors were given enough credence to be fact as far as those women were concerned, and Buffy had already been condemned in their eyes. She'd heard more than one of them call her a whore…

And on nights like this, she was inclined to agree with them, though not because she'd once taken her clothes of for money. No, it was their society that truly made her feel cheap. Liam would start the evening by parading her around, showing off the jewel on his arm, yet soon he would seem to forget all about her, leaving her alone so he could go make whatever sort of business connection had brought him there that evening.

She'd tried talking to him about it earlier in their marriage, but it had only gotten him angry. He'd told her she had to understand how the game was played, and that these sorts of events were important to his career. Later, when he'd found her crying, he'd sworn to her he didn't see her as nothing but a trophy wife, and he hadn't meant to make her feel that way. He told her it was a necessity to go to those parties, but he didn't like them either, and he'd try to remember how out of place she was at them from now and stop making her feel ignored.

He'd never kept that promise, and after a while, Buffy had had the sinking suspicion it had been anything but lip service in the first place.

Tonight, Buffy felt cheaper than ever, as the only kind words Liam had spoken to her in days were in front of these people. It felt more like a show than it ever had before, and it took all she had not to let them see her cry.

Instead, she found the bar.

By the time Liam came looking for her, Buffy had lost count of how many shots of tequila she'd had.

"Come on, it's getting late," Liam said tersely, unaware of his wife's inebriated state.

"Nope, I think I'll stay right here," Buffy said, not looking back at Liam. "Right here with…" She paused, leaning forward and squinting to read the bartender's name tag. "Javier. He's nice."

Javier hurried off to avoid the blow-up he saw coming, busying himself with washing glasses instead.

"Jesus Christ, Buffy, I leave you alone for a couple of hours and…"

Buffy spun around on the bar stool, her eyes flashing. "That's just it, Liam! You left me alone! I'm so sick of this! I'm alone all the fucking time!"

"Buffy, language," Liam said in a low growl.

"Oh yeah, can't let anyone hear me cursing!" Buffy yelled. "You don't want anymore gossip about your trashy, stripper wife!"

At her declaration, all eyes whipped around to look at the fighting couple, the room seeming to grow completely silent. Buffy turned, facing them head on. "That's right! I was a stripper! I danced around and took my clothes in front of drooling men off for money! And you know what—all of these men were there! Yeah, they were! Mrs. Garbison, give me that look all you want, but your husband paid my grocery bill with the money he stuck in my g-string!"

"That's it," Liam snapped, grabbing Buffy by the arm. "We're leaving now."

"But I don't want to leave," Buffy said, her chin raised defiantly. "For once, I'm actually having a good time."

"Yeah, well, I'm not," Liam replied, tightening his grip on her arm as he dragged Buffy out of the room. He stormed out to the valet, thrusting his ticket at the man, who quickly rushed to get Liam's car, sensing this was not a place he wanted to be for long.

"You just really fucking embarrassed me in there, Buffy," Liam said, spinning his wife around to face him.

"I don't care!" Buffy yelled. "I'm sick of this! I'm sick of you ignoring me, sick of you treating me this way. You…you don't even love me!"

Liam's hand flew back before Buffy realized what he was doing, and she gasped as the back of his hand smacked against her cheek.

Buffy blinked, the hand on the arm Liam wasn't holding on to coming up to stroke her face. She gaped, at a loss for words as her flesh began to sting. It had finally happened… Yet before she could find anything to say, the valet pulled up with the car and got out, tossing the keys back to Liam.

"Get in," Liam said, his voice emotionless.

With a nod, Buffy did as he said, remaining silent for the ride back home.

*** *** ***

"Get inside the house, Buffy."

Buffy looked between the house and her husband as he remained in the driver's seat of the car. "You're not coming in?" she asked, her voice small.

"I'm too angry to even look at you right now," Liam snapped. "I'm going into the office."

"But it's late…"

"Just get out of the damn car."

Buffy got out, tears welling in her eyes as Liam drove off. She thought it could've been all the alcohol still in her system, but the night seemed surreal, as if she were nothing more than trapped inside of a bad dream.

She walked up the steps and to the front door, fumbling with her keys for several moments before she was able to get inside. She stumbled on the tiles in the foyer, then kicked off her high heels, not caring where they landed.

Her bare feet padded towards the staircase, seeming to follow a path all their own. She didn't question how she ended up in William's room, nor why she stripped off her clothes before climbing into the bed with him.

Buffy dipped her hands beneath William's t-shirt, caressing the warm skin of his chest as she kissed and licked the column of his neck. He groaned in his sleep, his body arching instinctively towards her.

She reached into his sleep pants, pushing down the waistband to pull out his cock. It was soft, yet impressive anyway, and Buffy wanted to know how big she could make it…

Consequences the furthest thing from her mind, Buffy slipped down William's body, drawing his cock into her mouth. Above her, he moaned, and she took as much of it as she could, wrapping her perfectly-manicured hand around the bottom half.

William thrust into the warm cavern of her mouth as he began to wake, the pleasure intense as it pulled him from sleep. He frowned, confused by what was happening, until he opened his eyes and saw Buffy's head, illuminated by the pale moonlight as she moved between his legs.

"Buffy?" William asked, his voice groggy. "What…what are you doing?"

Buffy looked up, meeting his eyes, even as she continued to suck him off. She slid down further, swallowing around him, making him call her name and thrust his hips erratically before she released him and crawled up his body.

She put her lips against his ear, begging him in a husky voice. "William, please, touch me…let me… I'm so tired of being alone. Don't make me be alone tonight, please… Tell me it's all right."

William's thoughts were rushing through his head, yet he couldn't seem to make sense of any of them. It didn't seem real that this was happening, didn't seem like he could even be awake, and yet, he knew he was. He'd dreamt about a moment like this, about Buffy coming to him, wanting him, and yet, this was unlike any of those times. In his dreams, he was always confident, strong. He was always sure of what he wanted, certain of what to do.

Now, he was at a loss. Buffy's hand had moved back down to pump his erection, and he felt more nervous than anything else. Everything was off, and he found himself wishing Buffy wasn't there at all. His moment was here, his chance to be with the woman he wanted more than anything, and yet he wished he was still asleep.

"Please, William…" she begged again, his name followed by a choked sob. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

William swallowed, the desperation in Buffy's voice making up his mind for him. He wasn't naïve enough to see this ending well, but he couldn't deny her something she needed nevertheless.

With a nod, he gave her permission.

Buffy moved atop his body, straddling his hips before taking hold of his cock and guiding it into her. She cried out, flinging her head back as she began to ride him, and William gasped.

She was hot, tight, wet—better than he had even imagined.

The pleasure of Buffy surrounding him, her pussy gripping his cock as it slid out of her body, creating the most delicious friction he'd ever known, had William straining. He tightened his fists against his sides and clinched his teeth, fighting against his rapidly approaching climax.

It was a losing battle. Within moments of Buffy mounting him, William came with a strangled cry, shaking uncontrollably as he released inside of her.

Buffy felt him shoot and let out a frustrated sound somewhere between a wail and a sob before collapsing on his chest, trembling as his softening cock slipped from her body.

The room grew silent, the air heavy. William lay still, in shock over what had just happened. Disjointed thoughts bounced around in his head as he lay still with Buffy atop him.

Why did she do that?

What will Liam do to me?

Is she in love with me?

I'm not a virgin anymore.

He was pulled back to the moment by the sound of Buffy crying, and William wrapped his arms around her. He wasn't sure what to do now, if he even should try to comfort her, but he couldn't see a way not to. He stroked her back and hair, whispering soft, fragmented bits of comfort to her.

Eventually, Buffy fell asleep, still resting there on him.

William never did.

*** *** ***

Thank you for all the wonderful feedback I got on the last chapter. I really appreciated it. :)

Also, I wanted to take a moment to point out something a lot of readers seem to be missing. This is not "Angel." This is "Angelus." His name, as it has been given in the fic, is Liam Angelus. He's the evil version, folks.

Please review!

As sunlight filtered in through the curtains, William allowed himself a few moments to indulge in the fantasy that the morning could possibly go well for him. Watching Buffy asleep in his arms made it easy for William to imagine that when she woke, she'd tell him she'd come to him last night because she realized she loved him and wanted to be with him. Perhaps she come to the realization she would never be happy with his father and had decided it was better for her to move on with William instead.

However, any illusions he may have allowed himself to have were shattered as soon as she woke. Buffy looked up at him, her eyes full of confusion for a moment before they widened, and she ran out of the room, her hand over her mouth.

The sound of her vomiting in the adjoining bathroom did nothing at all to help William's growing dread.

Several moments later, Buffy reemerged. She looked haggard and worn, yet William still couldn't seem to find her anything but beautiful. He reached out to her, a silent offer of support, but Buffy shook her head wildly before scrambling around for her clothes.

William pulled the sheet over himself, her rush to redress making him feel self conscious, even though she'd never bothered to undress him the night before, and he'd pulled up his sleep pants and boxers not long after the event itself.

"Buffy, can we talk about what happened?" he prodded softly, afraid to let her escape the room before anything was said. He had too many unanswered questions for that.

"There's nothing to talk about," Buffy said as she smoothed her dress, looking down so as not to have to look at William. "Last night was just a mistake."

William swallowed hard as he tried not to let her see the way her words affected him. He felt like such a bloody ponce for even thinking it, but the idea last night didn't mean anything to her hurt him deeply. It had meant something to him, even if it hadn't been anything like what he'd imagined. It had been his first time, and it had been with a woman he loved. It shouldn't have been like it was.

It shouldn't have made him feel used.

"What is this to you, Buffy?" William asked, hating the way his voice sounded so small to his own ears. She'd come on so strongly the night before and now she couldn't seem to get away from him fast enough—not to mention the fact waking up with him seemed to make her physically ill—and he didn't understand it at all.

Then, he thought back over the night and thought he hit upon the problem. "Is it because I wasn't very good?"

Buffy frowned. He wasn't very good? She didn't even remember… Still, she had to both get out of the situation and make sure it didn't happen again. Nothing good could come from her continued involvement with William, and she knew now that this line had been crossed, it would be next to impossible for her to prevent it from happening again on her own.

Even through the haze of the alcohol she'd consumed, Buffy remembered enough of the night to know what had occurred with her husband. Liam had hit her… It was the first time, but she knew enough about the world to know it wouldn't be the last.

She was faced with the blinding realization she hadn't wanted to face since she'd gotten married a month ago—Liam wasn't her hero, wasn't her savior coming to rescue her from the darkness she'd been trapped in before. If anything, he'd simply trapped her in a different way.

She couldn't explain it to William, couldn't tell him why she had to stay where she was. She was too tied to Liam to leave now, and no good could come at all for William if he held onto the notion something could exist between him and Buffy. As much as she wished she could act on her fantasy of running away with him now, she knew it was a silly, childish notion, and she had to accept a harsher reality.

Needed to do something to make sure William let this die now, Buffy latched on to what he said, using what she knew was usually the fastest way to make a man no longer interested. It broke her heart to treat him this way, especially after what she assumed she had done the night before, yet she knew it was really for his own good. He could go to college and build a decent life for himself, hopefully far away from the shadow of his father.

"Yeah, that is why," Buffy replied, even as her heart screamed at her not to do this. "There's no point in me wasting my time with some boy who can't even please me."

"Buffy, I'm sorry. I…I can get better, I can." William's voice grew softer, his eyes downcast as he added, "It was my first time."

Buffy directed her gaze to him and immediately wished she hadn't. He looked so vulnerable right now, and she knew she was taking advantage of that. But this was for his own good. He didn't need to harbor feelings for her when he had his whole life ahead of him. He'd get over this soon enough, and Buffy doubted there'd be a shortage of women in college to help boost his self esteem back from any damage she may cause.

"It was still disappointing. But it did make me realize I was crazy to think I wanted anything with anyone but Liam." Buffy saw the pain flash across William's face at that, and knew her words hit their mark—even if William could never know the true meaning behind them.

"Bottom line, Will," she continued, "this was a huge mistake. The only reason I even slept with you was because I was drunk, and trust me, there's not enough tequila in the world to make me do that again."

William's head came up, and Buffy almost gasped as she watched his eyes harden. "Fine. If that's the way you feel, then just get the hell out of my room."

His tone was cold and even, his expression one of barely controlled anger, and Buffy felt her heart rate accelerate. Had she been misreading William all along?

"Why are you still here?" William snapped when Buffy didn't move.

Buffy hurried out of the room then, tears filling her eyes as she headed back towards her own. She heard a crashing behind her and jumped, realizing William had just thrown something at the wall. Still, she didn't look back. Instead, she curled up in her still-made bed and cried.

*** *** ***

It was late before Buffy finally got up again. She ached all over, still feeling the effects of her hangover. She stumbled into the bathroom, grimacing at what she saw in the mirror. She was a mess, with smeared make-up, ruffled hair, and a wrinkled dress.

She took off her dress, discarding it carelessly on the floor despite the price tag it had come with. Truth be told, she never wanted to see the thing again. Buffy then made her way over to the shower, turning the water on as hot as she could stand it before stepping in.

She wished the water could wash away more than physical grime, though she knew she was stuck with the situation she'd put herself into. Things had been easier when she could pretend she didn't see all the clues pointing to the man her husband really was. She'd wanted to be happy, wanted to believe she really had found her prince, and she'd been able to overlook what she didn't want to see in order to hold on to that dream.

Yet last night reality had hit her with a literal slap in the face. She'd feared it in the past with Liam's temper, yet she'd hoped perhaps he did love her enough to not cross that line. The last of her illusions were shattered now.

Part of her blamed William for it. Before he came along, she could still pretend. His addition to the household had been what it had taken to tip the scales, push Liam past the point where he could continue to hold himself back with his young wife.

Still, she knew that wasn't fair. Liam would've reached this point eventually, with or without William being around. All the warning signs had been there, but Buffy had chosen to ignore them in favor of believing she could finally find the happiness she'd lost two years ago.

Believing maybe she could have a family again.

No, she couldn't blame William. He had been an innocent in all of this. Buffy reached for her shampoo, wincing as she thought about what she had said to him that morning. She'd been taken aback by his anger, yet it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to her he'd acted that way. She'd just callously ripped his heart out—who wouldn't have been angered by that?

She knew now, as her head began to clear, that she couldn't allow things to remain that way between them. If nothing else, William deserved the truth. She'd made her choice when she'd married Liam, and even if William didn't like it, he'd have to accept it.

He had to know as well as she did his only chance to have any sort of happiness in his life was to get as far away from Liam as he could.

After Buffy finished her shower, she dressed and dried her hair, happier with what she saw in the mirror now. Even if she knew she could never have what she truly wanted with William, she hoped he could at least forgive her for what she'd done.

Though she wouldn't blame him if he couldn't…

Mustering up her courage, Buffy went back down the hall towards William's bedroom. All she had to do was explain things to him, make him understand why she'd married Liam and why she had to stay with him no matter what. And let him know the blame for how badly things had gone the night before rested squarely on her shoulders and not on his…

Yet when she got to his room, he wasn't there. His drawers were still half open, with all of his clothing removed. A broken lamp lay shattered against the wall, and Buffy winced as she remembered hearing him throw it on her way out of his room that morning.

Buffy turned when she heard someone in the hallway, but saw that it was the housekeeper. "Anita, do you know what happened to William?"

"He left a few hours ago, Miss Buffy."

At that, Buffy felt herself rising into a panic. How could he just leave? "He left? Where did he go?" Buffy asked, fighting against sounding as frantic as she felt.

Anita shrugged. "I don't know. He just packed his things and called for a taxi. I didn't think it was my place to ask."

Anita started off, but before Buffy could try to stop her to see if she could get anymore information, she heard the heavy step of Liam's shoes on the stairs. She swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest as she saw him, a smirk on his face.

"You hear that, baby?" he asked, his smirk spreading into a grin. "It's just you and me again—and daddy's not at all happy about what you did last night."

Her legs too weak to support her anymore, Buffy slumped to the ground.

*** *** ***

A clarification on my note about Angelus—I didn't mean you guys didn't know he was a bad guy in this. What I meant was, this is not an "Angel bashing" fic (as it has been accused of being by more than one reader). My characterization is based on Angelus on the show; therefore, I'm not just making him all mean because I don't like the character.

This is probably going to be my last post until after the New Year. I'm sorry, but I just can't right now. I would ask that you all try to be patient and respect that I need a little break, and I hope you'll all join me again in early 2007.

It was December 23, and Buffy had neither decorated the house nor done any Christmas shopping. The only thing she had done to recognize the season was decorate Liam's arm at the various holiday parties he attended.

She couldn't find a reason to celebrate—not this year, and not ever again, as far as she could see. This was supposed to be the season of hope, and all of that had long since left for her. The things she wished for could never be wrapped up and placed beneath a tree, and Buffy didn't see the point in pretending otherwise.

She didn't try to pretend at all anymore. In the months since William's departure, Buffy had seen more and more of her husband's true nature until she could no longer do anything but accept she was married to a monster. His cruelty and complete lack of compassion made her wonder sometimes if he were even human. Yet she was inextricably tied to him forever.

No, there was no room in Buffy's life for hope, no matter what the season.

Instead, she planned to go through the next few days as she did every other day—alone, trapped inside a house where she could do nothing but waste away, her once bright spirit crushed. She had no family, no friends, and while she had once wished for more time with Liam, she was now grateful for the amount of time her husband spent away, even when she didn't see him for days.

Especially when she didn't see him for days.

So when she came downstairs two days before Christmas to find the entire floor decorated, Buffy didn't know what to make of it. The lights, the tree—things she associated with warm, home, and love—seemed so out of place in the mansion she'd come to regard as no more than a prison.

Buffy found Liam in his home office, already working. She knocked hesitantly on the door, unsure of whether or not this would be a time when Liam would allow the intrusion.

She waited a moment, her breath stilling, before Liam called for her to come in. Buffy peeked slowly around the door as she opened it.

Liam spared her only a glance before he looked back down at the papers on his desk. "Make it quick, Buff. I have important things to deal with today."

"I…I just wanted to ask why the house was decorated."

"Because it's Christmas," Liam replied, giving her a second glance, this one filled with annoyance. "You should have seen to it, being the supposed lady of the house, but once again, you proved yourself to be lazy and useless."

"I didn't think you would even want them, Liam," Buffy said in her own defense.

Liam grew visibly more exasperated. "Well, I couldn't exactly make a good impression tonight without them, now could I?"

Confusion marring her features, Buffy frowned. "Tonight? What's happening tonight?"

At her question, Liam sighed heavily. "That's the trouble with marrying the hot ones—they never have to brains to go with the looks. I told you weeks ago that we're having a Christmas party here tonight."

"No, you didn't," Buffy insisted. Surely she would have remembered that, especially since the parties Liam gave were the ones she dreaded the most. There was no escaping those.

"Yes, I did. You were probably just too fucking drunk to know what was going on again. Come here."

Buffy swallowed, then nervously approached her husband. She hesitated by his chair, and Liam grabbed her arm to roughly pull her into his lap. His hand was bruising-tight around her arm, but Buffy didn't struggle, knowing from experience that would only make things worse for her. Liam leaned in as he spoke to her, his voice dark and menacing against her ear. "Tonight is important, Buffy. I've got to impress some very important people, show them I'm worth putting a little faith into. If I lose all their respect for me because they see what a cheap whore I married, I will make you suffer. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Buffy replied, the tears she was fighting threatening to choke the words.

"Good girl." Liam released her arm, following up his painful grip with a deceptively-affectionate kiss on Buffy's cheek. "Now, why don't you run along and buy something new for tonight? It's Christmas, so you can go with red, but don't make it obvious what a tramp you really are, got it?"

Her eyes lowered, Buffy only nodded in response, and Liam nudged her off his lap before delivering a swat to her backside. "Run along now."

Without another word to her husband, Buffy hurried out of the room.

*** *** ***

Several hours later, Buffy returned to Liam's mansion. She'd been lucky enough to find a place that could fit her in to do her hair and nails on such short notice, knowing Liam would expect her to have done so for the party. Whenever he showed off his house, he always wanted all of his possessions to shine their brightest.

However, when she pulled into the garage, she saw a strange car parked inside. While it was an older car, it had obviously been cared for by its owner. Yet it was also long and black, a far cry from the shiny new sports cars all of Liam's friends seemed to drive.

She inspected it for a few moments, trying to find any clues to who the driver may be in order to satisfy her curiosity, but soon gave up and retrieved her bags from her own trunk before heading inside.

It was there that she discovered the owner of the mystery car.

Two people she didn't recognize sat on the couch in the living room. The woman, with her old-fashioned dress and the man in all black—offset by his bleached-white hair—seemed so out of place there. Buffy almost began to panic, wondering if they were intruders, until the man turned to face her.

Buffy saw his eyes and gasped.

William.

His presence there, the way he looked—the woman—so many questions rushed through Buffy's mind, yet she only one seemed to be able to make its way to her mouth. "What are you doing here?"

William smirked at her, a cold, almost-sneer she'd never seen on him before. "What's the matter Step-Mummy Dearest? Not happy to see your boy home for Christmas?"

As he spoke, Buffy noted another change in William. He'd cultivated his accent, twisting the British tint he had picked up in his time at school into something rougher.

The man looking at her now was clearly not the William she remembered, yet even as she found herself a little frightened by what she saw, she couldn't help the way he still made her body tingle either.

"I just didn't think you'd…does your father know you're here?"

He smirked again, this time with his tongue tucked behind his teeth, and Buffy wondered if he had any idea how sexy he looked.

Then, she caught the spark in his eye and knew he did.

"Yeah, he knows. The old bastard wanted to throw me out, but then he came to the conclusion he didn't exactly want me crashing his little party tonight all disgruntled-like."

Buffy's mouth moved up and down, yet she couldn't seem to get any words to come out of it. The moment was so surreal that she wondered if she were having some very bizarre dream. William looking the way he did now and standing up to Liam? That couldn't be real, could it?

Before she could think about it too much, the strange woman leaned forward and wrapped herself around William. "You're being a naughty dog, my Spike," she said, following her words with a dog-like growl against his ear. "You didn't introduce me to Daddy's pretty little dolly."

"Right. How careless of me, pet." He brushed a kiss against the woman's face and the sight made a sick feeling turn in Buffy's stomach. Seeing William with another woman was affecting her more than Buffy wanted it to—and did that woman just call him Spike?

"This is my girl, Drusilla," Spike said, his arm going around Drusilla's waist as he spoke and his chest puffing out a little.

Drusilla gave Buffy a smug look as she placed her hand on Spike's bicep, and Buffy knew without a doubt the other woman knew exactly what had transpired between her and William that summer. Buffy felt embarrassed—exposed—and more than a little heartbroken to think about him sharing that with another woman.

"It's…it's nice to meet you," Buffy said, forcing herself to remain composed. She knew, however, that couldn't last long, and she quickly added, "I need to go get ready for the party."

Spike looked at her, a cold, cruel expression on his face that made Buffy think for the first time maybe he did look like his father. "Yeah, you should. Run along now."

Without another word to either of them, Buffy rushed out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom. She tossed her shopping bags on the bed, not caring enough to lay out her dress so it wouldn't wrinkle.

She sunk down to the edge of bed, fighting back tears. She'd had her make-up done at the salon as well, and she certainly didn't need to ruin it now. But after what had happened downstairs, it was nearly impossible for her to remain composed.

Seeing William with another woman hurt—that she couldn't dispute and wouldn't even try to. However, that hadn't been the worst part at all. No, the worst part had been seeing him. Spike. Buffy knew it wasn't mere vanity that made her think her rejection had pushed William towards becoming the man she'd just met downstairs.

She'd wanted him to recover from the blow she dealt to his ego, but she'd never wanted him to change, especially not so drastically. She couldn't see any of sweet, unassuming William in the punk currently in her living room. To think what she'd done to him had done so much damage that he had to harden in order to keep going…

No, Buffy told herself as she dabbed under her eyes with her fingers. It wasn't only her who had done that to him. She couldn't deny her part in it, but she couldn't blame herself completely for what William had become either.

But you pushed him over the edge. If you'd given him love then, he wouldn't be this way now…

Buffy hated that voice, hated the way it grew darker as time went on. She didn't want to blame herself for this. What else could she even have done? No matter what her feelings for William may have been, the never could've been together—not as long as she was so inextricably tied to his father. She'd been trying to act in his best interest when she'd pushed him away.

Besides, he had a girlfriend now. A gorgeous girlfriend at that, Buffy noted, unable to deny her definite jealousy of the other woman. There was no reason to think Spike and Drusilla were anything but happy together, and perhaps this new, tougher persona he'd adopted was a good thing. Buffy knew as well as anyone that it was easier to survive if you grew hard on the inside. As much as she'd liked William when he was quiet and kind, it was probably better for him to put walls up to keep himself save. When you made yourself vulnerable , you only got hurt, and even if she'd taught him that with a harsh lesson, maybe it would be better for him in the long run that she had.

Buffy could make it all sound logical in her head, yet try as she might, all she could think as she got ready for the party was that she'd hurt someone who had never done a thing to deserve it.

*** *** ***

I hope everyone stayed with me after I took a little break. I'm hoping to start this fic up with a regular schedule again and post on Thursdays, but I can't make any promises that it will be every week. On top of my busy schedule, my muse hasn't been particularly cooperative recently, and I haven't actually felt like writing. I'm trying to push past it, but it's difficult, and sometimes I'll just sit there for hours with nothing more than a sentence written. But do know that I don't plan to just abandon my stories, and I'll do my best to keep writing.

Thanks for reading.

Buffy had trained herself to detach emotionally when it came to being Liam's arm candy for the evening. She'd stand beside him when he wanted her there, smile brightly at the right people, and then quietly fall back into the shadows when he was finished showing her off. She wouldn't let herself think about what it meant that he held so little regard for her as a person, wouldn't allow herself to become overwhelmed. It was easier to just feel nothing.

So when she felt something, Buffy wasn't sure what to make of it. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention as every nerve in her body became aware. She tingled, and she couldn't smother the small gasp that came from her when she looked up to see William…no, Spike…watching her from across the room. He looked so out of place as he leaned in the doorway, his jeans and t-shirt not belonging in the mix of tuxedoes and expensive dresses.

He smirked and crooked his finger. Buffy shook her head, fear and excitement meshing inside of her until she couldn't tell one from the other.

Spike mouthed his response to her refusal clearly, letting her see what he was saying even with the room between them.

I'll make a scene.

Buffy knew he'd do it, and she also knew they'd both get in trouble for it. Or at least she would. Buffy wasn't certain Liam would have as much as control as he'd once had over the man his son had become.

She glanced around, making sure she was as invisible as she wanted to be before she went across the room, her heart thudding in her chest. Suddenly, Spike's hand was around her arm and he was dragging her away. A scream caught in her throat, but Buffy was too worried anyone who might respond to it would give her more trouble than Spike would to let it slip out.

And was she even in danger? He was scaring her, that she couldn't deny, but the hands on her now felt like William's, and there was still comfort in that.

"Shh…not going to hurt you, pet," Spike whispered to her as he brought her away from the party. "Just want to go someplace where we can talk."

He brought her into an empty hallway and dropped his arm, giving Buffy the chance to run if she wanted to. She didn't.

Spike had planned a thousand things to say to her when he'd left Dru sleeping and crept downstairs. For months, he'd harbored his anger for Buffy, hating her for the way she'd treated him, for turning out to be just like everyone else in his life. The noise of the festivities downstairs had kept him awake, and the whiskey he'd pilfered from his father's liquor cabinet hadn't been able to dull his senses enough to let him sleep.

Yet now, looking at her, he was at a loss. She was still beautiful, the burgundy of her dress highlighting the flush of her cheeks. Her shoulders were bare, and he could watch the tops of her breasts above the line of her dress as she took deep, uneasy breaths.

She was glorious, breathtaking.

She wasn't his.

It was that last thought that reminded him he was angry, even as the part of his brain still functioning tried to remind him that he had a woman who was. Even now, he felt the sting of Buffy's rejection, unable to drown our her declaration that he wasn't enough to please her no matter how many times Drusilla's screams of release rang in his ears.

Spike took a step closer, watching Buffy's sharp intake of breath in response. "I was watching you," he told her, his head tilting as he regarded her with dark eyes. "I watched you letting him parade you around like his little whore. Is that what it takes to get you off, Buffy? Do you like being used?"

His words slammed into her, her initial response one of hurt. But then, anger flared up in its place, mixing with embarrassment that he'd even seen her that way, and that he knew as well as she did what she was to Liam.

Buffy wanted him gone. She didn't want Spike here, didn't want to be reminded of what she'd had to let slip away. She narrowed her eyes, her hands moving to her hips. This whole situation had her upset, and though she knew she had no right to care, she couldn't help the angry jealousy she felt seeing him with Drusilla anymore than she could the shame she felt knowing he knew the truth about her sham of a marriage.

"Liam knows what it takes to get me off, William," she snapped, her defensive words coming out before she even had a chance to consider them. "Which, if I recall correctly, is more than I can say for you."

It took only a second for Buffy to realize her miscalculation. Spike was already angry—clearly drunk—and now, she'd pushed him further by insulting his manhood. His nostrils flared and his hand shot out again, grabbing her arm with bruising force. Buffy gasped, unable to keep up with what was happening as he dragged her down the hall and into a nearby closet.

Spike tore the door open with his free hand and threw her inside before stepping inside the small closet himself and shutting the door. It was too dark for Buffy to see him now, but she could hear his harsh, steady breathing, and her body trembled. She didn't know if it was fear or desire, yet when she felt his strong arm clamp around her waist, she didn't struggle to get away.

His hot breath rushed past her cheek before he spoke low in her ear. "You really think I can't get you off, baby?"

Buffy shook harder, the situation spiraling further out of control than she'd even begun to expect when he'd lead her away from the party. She was still angry, though now she was angry at herself as well for responding to him like this. She turned her head back towards him, her eyes adjusting and making out the dark outline of his face. "I know you can't," she snapped. "Now let me get back to my husband."

At her reply, the last of Spike's control snapped. Without another word, he roughly pushed up the bottom of her skirt and ripped away the flimsy panties she wore beneath.

Buffy gasped when two of his fingers pushed inside of her, hardly able to believe this was even happening. She wondered for a second if she'd fallen asleep at the party and was having a very bizarre—very vivid—dream.

But then his thumb found her clit and another long finger slid into her body, and she didn't care if she was awake or asleep. He had clearly picked up a few tips since the last time he'd touched her, and even in his drunken state, his fingers were sure and steady with determination.

Her legs wobbled, and Buffy grabbed onto Spike's bicep, gripping him tightly for support. He sped up the thrusts of his fingers inside of her, using them to fuck her hard. Inside of her, he curved the long digits up, sliding across her sensitive, hidden spot as his thumb moved faster against her swollen clit. Unbidden, she made a loud noise somewhere between a sob and a moan, and Spike's free hand moved up, clamping over her mouth and nose.

It took Buffy a moment to realize she was no longer able to breathe, and her eyes widened as she tried to move away from Spike's hand, but he had her locked in place, seemingly unaware of her plight.

Buffy whimpered into his hand as she started to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. Her lungs began to burn and she wondered if he would realize what he was doing before it was too late.

Then, she didn't care. Her body burst into intense orgasm, the likes of which she certainly hadn't been experiencing recently, if ever. She let herself be limp in his arms as shocks of pleasure rushed through her, nothing seeming to exist except the feelings he'd given her.

As quickly as it had begun, however, it was over, and Buffy felt herself falling to the ground as she gasped for fresh air. The door opened, and she looked up, her hand resting against the top of her dress.

Spike sneered down at her, his silhouette illuminated by the thin sliver of light coming through the partially open closet door. "Go back to your husband now," he snapped before walking away, leaving Buffy there alone.

A lump in her throat, Buffy reached around until she found her ruined panties, then tossed them to the back of the closet with a frustrated whimper as she realized she wouldn't have any place to put them anyway now that she could no longer wear them.

Hot tears fought to fall from her eyes, but Buffy roughly brushed them away as she leaned back, letting her head hit against the closet wall. She was angry—furious—though not with him. With herself. Both for pushing him to that point and for liking it when she did. He'd been rough and cruel, and yet she'd done nothing but succumb to it.

She wanted to tell herself that she'd gone along with it as a way to make amends for her cruel treatment of him, both after his first time and for what she'd said to him tonight as well. At least that sounded like a viable excuse. But Buffy knew she hadn't been thinking that clearly when she'd let him push his fingers inside of her pussy. Her response had been purely physical, any rational thought going away the moment Spike touched her.

He'd called her a whore; she'd acted like one.

Buffy made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob as she hit her head against the wall three times. She hoped she was too far away from the party for anyone to see her like this, messy and rumpled, her dress still hiked up to her hips.

"Whore," Buffy said aloud before she shook her head and made the sob/laugh again. She wasn't a wife. Not truly anyway. There was no love in her marriage, no desire to for the two of them to create a home together. Everything she did with Liam, every touch she endured, was for money.

Tonight was no different. She knew, once the guests went home, he'd want her. He always did after nights like this, wanted to stake his claim on what was his after he'd shown her off to others.

Buffy pushed herself off the ground, holding on to the wall for a moment until her legs stopped quaking. Then, she straightened her dress and headed out to clean up in the bathroom before rejoining her husband.

*** *** ***

Spike woke to the sound of what he thought had to be the loudest birds in the history of the world. They were
screaming outside the window and he groaned, opening his eyes for second only to shut them again against the glaring light coming in from the space between the curtains.

He rolled over away from the sun, his eyes opening again to take in the sight of Drusilla sleeping peacefully next to him. She was right where she was supposed to be, yet something felt off.

When it came back to him, Spike bolted upright in bed, ignoring the pounding in his head. He couldn't have actually done that—could he? He tried to tell himself it had to be nothing more than a dream, but memories of Buffy in his arms, his hand beneath her skirt, were too vivid for him to dismiss as anything but reality.

Guilt weighed heavy on his shoulders as he wondered how he could've done such a thing—to both Drusilla and Buffy. He'd cheated on his girlfriend by doing something reprehensible to his father's wife.

In not a one of his hazy memories from the night before could he remember Buffy consenting to what he had done to her.

He felt sick—and from more than just the hangover making him regret however much liquor he'd managed to ingest the night before. He'd come back here to make Buffy regret spurning him the way she had, but he'd never intended to do anything like that.

Spike knew he never should've come. He'd gotten away, made a life for himself away from the specter of his father. He should've just stayed with Dru, where he'd been happy. He'd been beyond foolish to want to come back here to try to get some of his own back with Buffy.

He'd done that now, although in a way he'd never wanted to.

Now he just wished he could take it all back.

*** *** ***

I've given up on trying a regular posting schedule. I put this story on a short break while I finished the other one I was working on. Now, I'm hoping to get one chapter of this one out a week, but I don't know what day of the week that'll be. It's just too much for me to get a chapter ready at a specific time anymore. However, if you're worried about missing a post or just want to know as soon as there's a new chapter, you can join my updates list: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/addielogan/

Please review!

William was in the process of shoving what few belongings he’d taken out of his bag back into it when he heard Drusilla wake, stretching out on the bed with a small moan before she opened her eyes and looked at him.

He looked back, met her gaze, and felt a rush of shame.

For a moment, her eyes looked hazy, her mind seemingly somewhere else, before she saw what he was doing and frowned. “Are we leaving already?”

“Yeah,” Spike replied, looking away from her. He shoved a dirty shirt into his bag, then pulled the drawstring closed.

Drusilla sat up, the blanket falling from her body and leaving her gloriously nude. She pouted. “But I like it here. And it’s Christmas Eve. Shouldn’t we spend Christmas with Daddy?”

“No. Coming here was a mistake, Dru. Let’s just go now. I’ll take you someplace nice—we can spend the next couple days in a posh hotel. Get dressed.”

Drusilla crossed her arms over her bare chest, her dark hair falling forward. “I don’t want to go to a hotel, William. I like it here.”

“Don’t pout, Dru. I’m fucking hung over and not in the bloody mood.”

She whimpered in response, ducking her head down, and Spike immediately felt bad for snapping at her. He knew he had no right to be angry with Drusilla. After all, he had been the one to cheat. But he was frustrated, furious with himself, and no one else was there to bear the brunt of it.

He needed to get away from this place, needed to go back to the life he’d made outside of his father’s shadow. And Buffy… She’d never bring him a damn thing but trouble—the further away from her he was, the better.

Spike knelt in front of the bed and reached up to cup Dru’s face in his hands. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you want to stay, but I can’t, all right? I’ve told you how things are between me an’ Liam. And I thought…I thought I could be here, show him I’m not a boy to push around anymore, but I can’t.” He dropped his hands. “So let’s just go, yeah? I’ll buy you a pretty new dress. Would that make you happy, pet?”

“Can it be satin?”

The corner of Spike’s lips twitched up. He was relieved he seemed to have placated Drusilla, at least for the time being. Sometimes when she got into one of her petulant moods, nothing would goad her out of demanding her way.

“I want a necklace to wear with it, too,” Drusilla added. “And something pretty for my hair.”

“Of course, dove.”

Drusilla’s smile was slow. “I’ll go.”

Spike jumped to his feet. “Up with you, then. Put your clothes on and get your things together, and we’ll head out.”

Immediately, her pout was back. “Right now?” Drusilla asked.

“No point in wasting time,” Spike replied. Granted, he probably wasn’t in the best condition to drive at the moment, but he wanted out of there as quickly as possible.

Drusilla thrust her breasts forward, shimmying against the sheets. “But you never gave me a proper good morning.”

Spike swallowed, finding the idea of sex surprisingly unappealing at the moment. “I’ll make it up to you as soon as we find a new place to crash, all right? Shag you for hours. But right now, I just want to go. I’d like to get out of here before Liam wakes up.”

Drusilla didn’t stop pouting, but, much to Spike’s relief, she did get to her feet. “You’re lucky I’m not more cross with you, my William,” she said as she retrieved her clothes and started to dress.

Spike turned from her, hiding the shame in his eyes. She had no idea how true that statement was…

He had no real response for her, so all he said was, “Let’s just get out of here.”

*** *** ***

They’d made their way out of the mansion without incident. The house was still quiet in the early morning hours, and Drusilla had found “sneaking out” to be a fun game, which inspired her to stay quiet—something for which Spike was grateful.

However, his luck apparently only ran as far as the garage. Before he even managed to get to his car, he heard her—calling his name.

He stopped, his entire body tensing as his jaw clinched. How could he turn around and look her in the eye after what he’d done?

And then she was there, so close he could feel her even with the air between them. “Will?” she said, panting, clearly out of breath from running after him.

He turned, slowly, saw her wrapped in a robe, her legs bare despite the fact it was December, her hair tousled from the bed, and for a moment, he forgot Drusilla was standing beside him.

She’d run outside to catch him, clearly hadn’t given a thought to how she looked or what she was doing. Bloody hell…

Buffy tucked a strand of blonde hair nervously behind her ear, her eyes darting to the woman standing at Spike’s side. She knew she shouldn’t be here, that she should have been grateful he was leaving, but when she’d caught a glimpse of him out the window, heading towards the garage with bags in hand, she hadn’t been able to stop her feet from taking her to him.

“You’re leaving?” Buffy asked, hating how small her voice sounded. “I thought you were staying for Christmas.”

She sounded like she wanted him to stay, which Spike couldn’t even begin to understand. He would’ve thought if she’d come running after him like this, it would’ve been to make sure he knew never to come back…

“I think I should.”

Buffy knew he was right. He should leave—no two ways about it. But something about that terrified her. Last night had been the first time she’d felt anything since he’d left before, and wrong as it was, she wanted him there. Just for a few days, just long enough to maybe mend things between them.

It had to end, but she didn’t want it to end like this.

“I know…” Buffy ducked her head. She knew she was being needy, and probably more than a little pathetic, but… “It’s Christmas, and I don’t…” She didn’t want to spend it alone. “It would be nice, you know, if the family was together.” She winced. How wrong did that sound?

Spike grimaced a little as well, though he certainly wasn’t going to start discussing anything pertaining to the truth of their relationship, not in front of Drusilla. He’d caught a glimpse of his girlfriend out of the corner of his eye and already knew she was reading more into this exchange than he was comfortable with.

Which was why he was going to tell Buffy no. He didn’t need to be there. What he’d done to her the night before had more than proven that. He still didn’t understand why she wasn’t throwing him out instead of asking him to stay, but that didn’t really matter at the moment. What did matter was that he needed to leave before things got any worse.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll stay.”

Drusilla gasped. Buffy beamed. Spike knew he was in all kinds of trouble.

“Great,” Buffy said. “So, Christmas, family—all of the good.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Good.”

Buffy took several steps backwards. “So I’ll just be…going back in now. I’ll see you inside?”

“Yeah.”

Confident she’d stopped him even as she lamented her own weakness, Buffy walked back towards the house, leaving Spike alone with Drusilla.

As soon as Buffy was gone, Drusilla turned towards Spike, shrieking as she pummeled him with closed fists. Spike threw his hands up defensively, trying to protect himself as she rained blows down on him.

“How could you?!” Drusilla yelled, hitting him harder. “You bastard!”

“What did I do?” Spike asked, not willing to admit to anything unless she accused him of it in no uncertain terms.

“Fucked pretty little step-mummy!” Drusilla snarled. “That’s where you were last night. When you left and I waited. I waited for you all night, Spike, and you were fucking her!”

“No! Dru, I didn’t. I promise you I didn’t have sex with her last night,” Spike replied, covering his head as her fists moved up. After all, it was technically the truth…

“Liar!”

One of her blows landed especially hard, and Spike moved quickly, grabbing her wrists and stilling her. Drusilla struggled, her hands flexing maniacally as she still tried to reach for him. She screamed and her feet shuffled. Spike held her as so she couldn’t manage to kick him without falling over.

“Drusilla, stop it. I’m not lying.”

“I hate you!” Drusilla yelled.

It wasn’t the first time she’d told him that in a fight, and yet, it never stopped cutting. “Dru, please… Don’t say that. Come on, baby.”

“Let go of me!”

With a sigh, Spike did. Immediately, Drusilla was attacking him again, this time with renewed force. Her eyes were wild, and it wasn’t a look Spike was completely unfamiliar with. He needed to calm her down, get her to come back to her senses.

He grabbed her arms again, this time holding them behind her back and pinning her in against him. Drusilla whimpered in frustration, but Spike kept her in place.

“Let her go, William.”

Spike looked up sharply, his heart dropping as he saw his father standing in front of them. He didn’t know where he’d come from, or how long he’d been out there. Had Liam been watching them when Buffy had been out? Had he seen the way she’d looked when she’d run to him to stop him from leaving?

He realized that was the thought at the front of his mind while he was pinning the arms of his sobbing girlfriend behind her back. He dropped his hold on Drusilla.

She pushed away from him, whimpering, looking every bit like the victim and not the one who had instigated it all. Liam rushed over to her, concern Spike didn’t believe for a moment on his face as he inspected Drusilla for bruises.

“William, what’s wrong with you?” Liam asked with an expression of well-manufactured shock as he turned towards his son. “That’s no way to treat a lady. I know I taught you better than that, boy…”

Spike would’ve laughed if he’d been able to find more humor than rising ire in the situation. Instead, he said nothing, his jaw clenched tight.

Drusilla whimpered, and Liam wrapped his arm around her. “God, we better take you in and put some ice on that. Nothing’s broken, is it?”

Dru shook her head slowly, looking up at Liam with wide, hurt eyes, and Spike felt something roll in his stomach. She knew—she fucking knew—what sort of monster his father was, and there she was, playing this sick little game with him. Liam and Drusilla both had the same intention—hurting him.

And it worked.

“Dru?” Spike asked softly, pain in his words and his eyes. When they fought, she always did things to hurt him, but this…this was too much for him to take.

Drusilla, however, saw what she was doing to him, but threw him a smug look before turning her attention back to Liam, her eyes tearful again. She was punishing him, and Spike was well aware of it. He hung his head with a sigh. After what he’d done, he deserved it anyway…

Spike watched as Liam led Drusilla back towards the house, fussing over her imagined injuries. He didn’t bother to go after them, knowing Drusilla well enough to know it wouldn’t be well received. She was vindictive, his Dru, and given the things she’d done to him over the slightest error on his part in the past, he knew she’d be nursing this grudge hard.

He leaned against the side of the DeSoto, his head hitting the black metal as he swore under his breath. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d managed to fuck everything up more than he ever could’ve imagined. And to top it all off, he was still bloody hung over.

Spike reached into the inside pocket of his long, leather duster and pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. He lit up, savoring his first, long drag.

He never should have come back here…

*** *** ***

Please review. And I’ll just say now, wherever you think I’m going with this story, you’re probably, at best, only partially right. *wink*

Buffy had gone upstairs to dress after chasing Spike down. She didn’t want to analyze why she’d run after him, nor did she want to analyze why she’d taken the time to look nice either.

With one more glance in the mirror to make sure everything was in place, Buffy headed downstairs, trying to act as casually as she could as she searched for William.

She didn’t find him. Instead, she walked past the den to see Liam in there with Drusilla. She stopped short, unable to keep passing such an odd sight. Buffy stood in the doorway, waiting until they turned towards her.

“What happened?” she asked, noticing that Drusilla was holding an icepack to her arm.

“William attacked her,” Liam said with tint of disgust in his voice that Buffy had to fight to roll her eyes at. Like that man of all people would disapprove of someone hitting a woman…

Then, Buffy realized exactly what he was saying. William had hit Dru? That couldn’t be right… He wouldn’t—would he?

A tiny voice in the back of her mind seemed to mock her. Like father, like son…

“He was attacking her when I found them. I hate to think what would’ve happened to poor Drusilla if I hadn’t been there,” Liam continued. “Make sure you’re not alone with him, all right, Buffy? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Buffy would’ve laughed at Liam’s fake concern if her heart wasn’t breaking—and not because her husband was obviously putting the moves on another woman right in front of her. She knew his fake “concern for your troubles” act well. After all, it was what had gotten her where she was today. No, the pain came when Drusilla moved the ice pack, and Buffy could see the marks on her arms and others on her wrists.

Drusilla whimpered. “I don’t know what makes him do this to me,” she said with wide eyes. “And when I’d never do anything to hurt him…”

Like father, like son…

Buffy felt sick. She turned away from the sight of Liam comforting Drusilla and went back upstairs, any desire to see Spike gone now. She supposed she shouldn’t really be surprised, but knowing that didn’t change the way she was feeling now.

She curled up on the bed, too weary even to cry. Buffy realized as she felt it slipping away that a part of her had hoped William could some how save her, that he could find a way to break the hold Liam had on her and take her away from all of this. Seeing him show up again and the way he obviously still wanted her made a tiny part of her heart hold hope again.

In an instant, it had been crushed.

No one was going to save her from this, least of all the son of the man whom she wanted to escape from in the first place. She should have known that. It should have been clear from the beginning.

So why did she feel so betrayed?

*** *** ***

Spike was furious with himself. Why in the world he had let that crazy little bitch convince him to stay there was beyond him. Was she playing some sort of game with him? Was it revenge for what he’d done the night before?

He’d gone looking for her after she’d run after him and begged him to stay only to find that she’d locked herself up in her bedroom and refused to come out all day. And to top it all off, Dru had stayed in her snit, whimpering every time she saw Spike and spending the entire day basking in Liam’s over-attention.

Spike knew she was doing it to hurt him, and while it did that, it also pissed him off. Mostly pissed him off. He didn’t believe for a second that Drusilla would actually go as far as to sleep with Liam, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch her so blatantly flirting with his own father.

He knew what he’d done with Buffy was wrong, but he was convinced what Dru was doing was much worse.

Yet he was used to her tantrums, and knew, soon enough, she’d come back around, do things that made him forget all about how angry he’d been at her in the first place.

Thankfully, everyone else in the household was asleep now, giving Spike some time alone. He’d gone into the den, the only light in the room the blinking red and green glow from the Christmas tree and the blaze at the tip of his cigarette. “Merry bloody Christmas,” he muttered as he flicked the end of the cigarette, ash going down into his empty glass.

He didn’t know she was there until she made a noise, a soft, almost inaudible sound that took him a moment to even realize he’d heard. Spike looked up slowly, meeting Buffy’s eyes across the dark room.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Buffy turned, ready to flee.

Spike didn’t let her go. He pushed his cigarette into the bottom of the glass, then let it fall to the floor, running after Buffy and stopping her with a hand around her arm.

“Get off of me!” Buffy yelled, struggling to break free of his grip.

“Then don’t bloody run off!” Spike snapped. “You owe me an explanation, Buffy.”

“I owe you an explanation?” Buffy asked, disbelief washing across her face. “After what you’ve done, I don’t think I owe you anything.”

Spike stepped back and dropped his hand, his expression stricken. She was right. Even if she had been playing some sort of game with him that day, he had been the one to pull her into that closet the night before. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”

Buffy scoffed. “Yeah, sure you are.”

“I bloody well am!” Spike snapped, her response putting him back on the defensive. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, and I’d take it back if I could.”

“I don’t believe you,” Buffy replied. She shook her head. “I don’t know why I ever even expected more from you. You’re just like him.”

Spike sucked in a deep breath, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “I am not like him, Buffy. I made a mistake, all right? But I’m nothing like him.”

“A mistake? Like I’m supposed to believe you’ve never done this before?”

At that, Spike paused. Buffy would know he’d never done anything like that to her before… He frowned. “What exactly are we talking about here?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Like you don’t know. I saw what you did to Drusilla.”

Her response made Spike even more confused. “What I did to… What?”

“You’re little fake innocent act isn’t cute, Spike,” Buffy snapped. “I get enough of that bullshit with your father.”

And with that, Spike was back on the defensive, his anger flaring. “Stop comparing me to him! And I haven’t done a sodding thing to Dru, so just get that out of your head right now. She’s the one who’s been a bloody little bitch to me all day.” He stepped back again, pacing for a second before he turned on her, a finger pointed at her. “And you. I don’t know what sort of crap you’re trying to pull either. Running after me, begging me to stay and then locking yourself in your room all day, refusing to see me? Felt like jerking me around for a bit of a lark, did you?”

“A…” Buffy cut herself off with a short bark of laughter. “Yeah, that’s me—cocktease Buffy.”

“Then what the hell was that? And give me a straight answer, because I am sick of being toyed with.”

“Like I’d even want to be in the same room with you!” Buffy yelled back. “I never should’ve come after you, and I wouldn’t have if I’d been thinking clearly.” She stopped, shaking her head slowly. “I came back in here and found your girlfriend with marks on her arms, Spike. Mind telling me where she got those?”

Spike gaped, shocked by what she was accusing him of. He almost defended himself, almost begged her to understand he would never do something like that. But then he felt something inside of him snap, the events of the day pushing him to the breaking point. “Fine. Because I beat her. Is that what you want me to say? I’m an abusive prick, just like dear ol’ dad. Is that what you want to hear, Buffy? Does that make it all right for you to hate me now? For you to treat me like dirt?”

He stalked slowly closer to her, and Buffy backed up, gasping when she felt her back hit the wall. “You want me to be the villain of this piece?” Spike asked, anger flaring in his eyes, making them grow dark. “Would that make it easier? Make it so you wouldn’t have to carry any of the blame for what you did to me?”

“What I did to you?” Buffy asked, trying to sound strong, more angry than afraid.

“You stole whatever shred was left of my innocence, Buffy. Used me, twisted whatever I may have felt for you so you could get off on breaking me.”

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Spike slammed both of his hands on the wall beside her, making her jump. She was pinned now, and though she could technically slip out under his outstretched arms, she didn’t try.

“That whole summer was a game to you, wasn’t it? Just a way to take away some of those lonely housewife blues.”

“No!” Buffy shouted, the protest coming out automatically. Then, softer, she said again, “No. William, I…it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it? Why did you do that to me?”

Buffy looked down, unable to take his accusatory gaze. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

“That’s not fucking good enough!” Spike shouted. “What you did… What you said… That’s not good enough.”

“I did it because I felt something for you, all right?” Buffy yelled back. “It was wrong, and I didn’t…”

Before she could finish her sentence, his lips were on hers, kissing her with bruising force. Buffy gasped against him before she gave into the kiss, forgetting for the time being that anything else even existed. She reached up, tangling her fingers in his hair, pulling roughly at the soft, pale strands as she brought him closer.

Spike growled, his hands trailed down, lifting her up and against the wall. Buffy’s legs immediately went around his waist, pulling him so his body was flush with hers. She ground against him shamelessly, the bottom of her nightgown riding up high.

Spike tore his mouth away from hers, moving to nip her earlobe before he begged her in a whisper. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

“Oh, god…William,” Buffy whimpered. “Want you….want you.”

With an arm around Buffy’s waist for support, Spike undid his jeans one-handed, then reached under her nightgown to rip her panties away. Then, he was thrusting hard, and Buffy cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Shh…” Spike reminded her before nipping at her ear again.

“Sorry…” She gasped, bit back another loud moan when he pulled out slightly and pushed back in. “Just…gah…big.”

Spike smirked for a moment, before he felt Buffy’s internal muscles squeezing him, pulling him deeper, and he lost himself in desire.

Buffy held on to him, her nails digging into his biceps. She bit her lip to keep from crying out again as he hit her at the perfect angle over and over again.

To the right of them, the lights of the Christmas tree continued to blink, bathing the couple in green, then red.

Buffy’s body was coiled tightly, on the edge of a precipice, when she heard his voice against her ear again, rich, husky, needy. “Come for me, pet. I want to feel your pussy strangling me, drenching me. Come on, baby…”

There was no way for her to deny his request, even if she had wanted to. She came in a rush, the scream he ripped from her swallowed when his lips covered hers again. She shook uncontrollably as she felt him moan into her mouth, his cock twitching inside of her as he followed her over.

Together, they slumped down to the floor. Spike moved off of her, leaning against the wall, panting. For long moments, neither one of them moved or spoke, until reality came back down around them and Buffy realized what she’d done.

Panicking, she tried to get up, only to stumble on shaky legs. She fell forward, both hands on the ground, and she saw her ruined panties there in front of her. Hot tears stung her eyes and she snatched them up before she stood, taking a moment to get her balance.

She looked at him for only a second, and immediately, she wished she hadn’t. What she saw in his eyes reminded her too much of their first morning after. She wanted to say she was sorry.

She didn’t.

Spike watched as Buffy left him alone.

*** *** ***

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Spike rolled over, opened his eyes, and realized he was alone in the bed. “Dru?” he said groggily, the months he’d spent sleeping in her arms making him unaccustomed to not finding her there when he woke.

When she didn’t respond, he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and looked around. Oh, right… He was here.

But where was she?

Then, the events of the night before began to rise to the surface, and Spike felt himself panicking. Drusilla hadn’t been there when he’d come back to bed either. What if she’d seen him with Buffy?

What had happened with Buffy the previous night was a mistake of epic proportions. Spike had no doubt about that, and he wished more than anything he could take it back—especially if it had cost him Drusilla. He knew most people probably didn’t understand what he saw in her, but William didn’t care about them. Drusilla was the only person in his life who had ever loved him. He couldn’t lose that. He couldn’t.

They needed to get out of this place. He needed to find Dru and, if it wasn’t too late, convince her to come home with him. They could go back to how things were, to how it was when he actually knew something close to happiness.

Spike hated himself for coming back here at all. This place—the home of the cruelest monster he’d ever known—was a curse. And one he’d brought back down upon himself.

He got out of bed and dressed quickly, desperate to find Drusilla and make it right again. If she had seen him with Buffy, then he’d have to beg her to forgive him. If she hadn’t, he still needed to get her back where things could be like normal again.

However, when he went downstairs, he didn’t find Drusilla.

He found Buffy.

She was in the parlor, seated on a sofa beside the picture window. Sunlight streamed in, dancing off the golden strands of her hair. Spike swallowed, an image of her face as she’d released around him flashing into his mind. She was bloody beautiful…like an angel.

He knew the moment she realized he was there. Her body stiffened before she turned sharply towards him, startled. When he made no move towards her, she seemed to relax.

“If you’re looking for your girlfriend, she’s not here,” Buffy told him. “She took off with Liam. And before you ask, no, I don’t think either of them suspects anything. They’re too caught up in their own little flirt-fest.”

He could hear the bitterness in her voice. It matched the taste in his mouth.

“Where did they go?”

“The hell if I know,” Buffy replied. “Something about Drusilla wanting to ‘see L.A.’”

Spike snorted. “See L.A. Please. We bloody live here.”

Buffy looked at him sharply, and Spike realized very quickly he’d said something he hadn’t planned on saying. “You’re supposed to be going to college at Berkley,” Buffy said.

“Oh. Yeah. ‘Bout that.” Spike cleared his throat, then reached up and scratched the back of his head. “Sorta flunked out.”

“Flunked out! William, how could you do that? You’re smart! What, did you just not show up?”

“It wasn’t for me, all right?” Spike barked back, defensively. “And could you not? You’re actually sounding a bit like you are my mum, and that’s just wrong on so many levels.”

Buffy winced. “Sorry. But I didn’t mean that in a, um, mom way. I just, well… Like I said, you’re smart. I thought you’d do well in school.”

“Academically, I did,” Spike replied with a shrug. “At least for that short time I was going. I studied all the time, spent most of the day in the library. It was sort of like boarding school, right down to having to live with the jocks who wanted to make my life miserable.”

“Bad roommates?” Buffy asked, sympathy in her voice. “I had one of those my freshman year, too.” Her nose crinkled. “I’m still convinced that girl was some sort of demon.”

“So you went and dropped out, too?” Spike asked. “What are you on my case for then?”

Something flickered across Buffy’s eyes, and Spike wasn’t sure if it was anger or pain. Or both. “I didn’t leave school because I wanted to. It’s not like I woke up one morning and said, ‘hey, school sucks. I’d rather be a stripper.’”

Spike coughed, his eyes widening. “Stripper?”

Buffy turned immediately pale, aghast in horror as she realized that wasn’t something she’d revealed to William in the past—or had had any plans to either. Her head dropped; she couldn’t look at him as hot, shameful tears stung her eyes. He probably thought badly enough of her after how she’d acted with him, and now, adding this into the mix…

“Is that what you were doing? When you met Liam?” William asked.

“Yeah, I was,” Buffy admitted softly. “I didn’t want to, but I really needed money.”

William has suspected from the beginning that money had been a contributing factor in Buffy’s decision to become the next Mrs. Liam Angelus, but he’d never really stopped to consider how bad her situation might truly have been. He hesitated for a moment before he joined her on the couch, though he kept space between them. “What happened to you, Buffy?”

She wasn’t really sure why she answered. Maybe it was simply because no one had asked like he was now. “My mom. She got…she got really sick.” A lump formed in Buffy’s throat as she thought about it, even after the time that had passed. “We spent everything we had trying to help her get better and then… And then she didn’t.”

For a moment, Buffy was silent, and Spike almost leaned over to touch her before she whispered, “When she was gone, I had nothing.”

Without any thought in his mind but a need to ease her pain, William did reach out to her now. However, Buffy pulled away before his hand made contact with her, and she cleared her throat, forcing her emotions back down.

“But yeah, you shouldn’t have just left school,” she said, turning her gaze on him as her tears dried.

Spike shrugged, deciding not to try to bring the conversation back around to her. If she didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t going to force her. “I didn’t want to be there anymore. I met Dru at a party, and she showed me I could have a different life. So I followed her back to L.A.”

“You threw away your future for some tramp?” Buffy asked, her disbelief pushing out the words before she could even think about them.

Spike’s nostrils flared, a muscle in his jaw ticking hard. “Don’t you dare bloody talk about her like that!” he yelled. He hopped off the couch, and the sudden outburst made Buffy flinch backwards. “You don’t know her!”

Defensive, Buffy shot back, “Oh, please, Spike! She’s run off with your father as we speak. Not exactly the pinnacle of virtue.”

“This coming from the little bitch that seduced her own step-son,” Spike sneered back.

His words stung. Hard. But Buffy wouldn’t let him see that. She held her chin up and glared.

“She’s only with him right now to get back at me,” Spike said, and Buffy recognized that he was speaking more to himself than to her. “She wouldn’t… Even if she knows what I did, she wouldn’t…”

Buffy scoffed. “Oh, please. She fucked him last night, Spike.”

Spike turned on her again, his eyes flaring. “You shut up! All you ever do is fucking lie to me, put my head in a spin! Drusilla wouldn’t do that to me. She loves me.”

“You’re still just as naïve as you ever were, William,” Buffy snapped back. “Why do you think I came downstairs last night? I needed a drink so I could sleep through the sounds of my husband fucking another woman!”

Spike turned on her, grabbing her up from the couch by her arms and giving her a shake. “Stop lying to me!”

Buffy panted, her face inches from his now. “Fuck you,” she spat. “Believe whatever the hell you want. I don’t care.” She stayed stiff in his grip, not fighting but not surrendering either.

Spike knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was getting to be a bit ridiculous. Almost every encounter he’d had with this woman since he’d come back had begun the same way.

And then lead to…

He didn’t want to do it again. He wanted to walk away from her, walk away from all of this. He wanted to find Dru, beg her for forgiveness, and then go back to his life with the woman who loved him.

She wouldn’t hurt him that much…

But this had become a train wreck, no chance of coming to a stop until it derailed. He threw her back on the couch with a growl, then was on top of her, covering her body with his.

Buffy gasped, her hands coming up to hold him to her, delicately manicured nails digging into him through his shirt.

He hated this woman. Just the thought of her made him angrier than he’d ever been in his life.

But fuck, how he wanted her.

He hiked up her skirt and ripped her panties away, discarding them to the floor. Buffy moaned, thrusting her hips up as he shoved two long fingers inside of her, finding her hot and wet to his touch. “You are a little slut,” he growled against her ear as he pushed another finger into her. “Writhing like a little bitch in heat.”

Buffy wanted to deny it, but how could she when his fingers were buried in her cunt? Instead, she moaned, giving into the feelings he was evoking in her body. She never just felt good anymore…

Already, he was drunk on her. Almost as if he was compelled by a force greater than himself, he moved down, replacing his fingers with his tongue. He feasted from her hungrily, lapping and sucking at her, the sounds of her screams barely registering even as they echoed in his ears.

When he finally stopped, she was shaking, panting, tears in her eyes.

He knelt, undid his pants, then slid inside of her with one, sure stroke.

Buffy’s legs trembled even as she raised them to wrap around his hips, pulling him closer. She kept whispering one word over and over again, and it took a while before it finally penetrated Spike’s lust addled brain.

“Please…”

He didn’t know what she was asking for, didn’t know if he could give it to her even if he did. Instead, he came inside of her with a roar, filling her as she clung to him.

For a moment, they lay still, entwined. Then, Spike was pushing off of her getting to his feet and refastening his jeans. He grabbed her ruined panties off the floor as an afterthought and stuff them into his pocket, not sure what compelled him to do it, but not stopping all the same.

He didn’t look at her as he left. He couldn’t. Couldn’t watch her cry.

Buffy sat up and pulled her shaking legs up, knees at her chin, and let him go.

*** *** ***

It was late before Liam and Drusilla finally came back to the mansion. Buffy heard Spike and Dru yelling in their room, and she stayed curled up in her bed, flinching at the harsh sounds. Something broke, Spike cursed loudly enough for her to make out the words.

Eventually, however, they left together, Spike’s DeSoto roaring off into the distance until silence fell over the house again.

Buffy heard Liam’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and knew her night was far from over.

*** *** ***

I promise I am going somewhere with this. I know the past few chapters have probably seemed like a lot of the same to a few of you, but the plot will be moving along shortly—and there is a plot beyond this.

Please review. It means a lot to me to hear what you think of each chapter.

It would’ve been easy to pretend he’d never been there.

He’d come back and disappeared so quickly, that it felt almost like a dream. Things were back now to how they’d been before, as if William had never come returned at all. Liam never spoke of the visit, and neither did Buffy.

It would’ve been easy to pretend it he’d never been there.

If she didn’t ache for him…

She hadn’t seen him in two weeks, and yet she sat at the bottom of her shower, frustrated tears rolling down her cheeks as the cool water pelted her. She’d woken up too hot, sheets tangled around her legs as the remnants of her latest dream lingered in her mind.

Deep blue eyes that saw right through her… Pale blond hair against paler skin… A touch that set her afire like no other…

She whimpered softly, her head falling against the tile wall. The house was quiet, still, Liam gone to whatever bed he was currently occupying, but Buffy could feel everything closing in on her, smothering her.

Her hand moved between her legs, trying desperately to relieve the tension, but it wasn’t enough. She needed him…craved him.

She whimpered, the sound rolling into a frustrated growl as she pulled her hand up and slammed her fist against the tile wall. Buffy knew she was crying, the water running down her cheeks warmer than that coming from the showerhead, and it angered her to know this was what she’d become.

Buffy thought she could remember being someone else. Someone happy, someone who smiled. She remembered laughing, and a time when tears could come from joy.

It was all gone. Youth and innocence taken too soon.

“I hate you,” she whispered, the tears coming harder now. “I hate you.” She didn’t know who she was talking to. Liam, William, herself, her dead mother.

She didn’t think it really mattered.

She curled up on the bottom of the shower, sobbing, barely noticing how she shivered as the icy water spilled over her. She couldn’t go on like this, not when she was broken. She needed to feel something that wasn’t this constant, gnawing ache.

She needed him to touch her.

She needed him to make her feel alive again.

*** *** ***

Dru was asleep beside him, her long, dark hair fanning out behind her on the pillow. He reached out, caressing the strands for just a moment before he pulled back.

Touching her wasn’t the same anymore.

He swore softly under his breath and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and reaching for his pack of cigarettes and silver Zippo lighter. He’d wanted things to go back to what they had been, to forget everything that had happened at Christmas, but he couldn’t.

The memories of what had happened with Buffy would’ve been enough to contend with, but beyond that was the accusation she’d made the last time they’d spoken. Every time he touched Dru, he wondered.

Had she slept with his father?

He didn’t want to believe it, but the doubt was there, nagging him constantly.

Spike lit his cigarette, smoking it in the light of the early afternoon sun that was trickling in through the blinds.

Drusilla stirred, made some small sound in her sleep, and Spike decided he needed to leave, not sure he could face her at the moment if she were to wakeup. He stubbed his cigarette out in an overflowing ashtray, slipped on a pair of worn jeans, and walked out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind him so as not to make any loud noises.

One of his girlfriend’s strung-out friends was passed out on the floor, and Spike paused for a moment, making sure the man was still breathing before he continued on. He sometimes wondered why he didn’t finally just cave and accept the various substances he’d been offered since taking up with Drusilla. Alcohol and nicotine just weren’t doing the trick anymore.

He still felt too fucking much.

A couple he didn’t recognize was passed out on the couch, empty beer bottles and pizza boxes scattered around the living room. He ignored them as he sat down in a chair, the half-empty bottle of whiskey he’d stumbled away from still beside it.

He grabbed the bottle, opened it, and picked up where he’d left off the night before.

Spike hadn’t taken more than a couple of swigs, however, before he heard the faint, tinny ringing of a cell phone. It took him a moment to realize it was coming from the pocket of his black leather duster.

Wondering who the hell would actually be calling him, he got up, making his way over to the phone he kept with a Berkeley number in order to hide from his mother and Liam that he was no longer residing there. Which meant it was probably Darla, wanting something from him again. Spike sighed heavily and flipped the phone open. “Yeah?”

“William?”

He grew still, even holding his breath at the sound of Buffy’s voice. It couldn’t be her. He had to be imagining it, his mind playing tricks on him.

“Spike? Is that you?”

The part of his brain that still provided rational thought screamed at him to hang up the phone. Any contact with her would only lead to badness.

“It’s me, Buffy.”

He heard her make a sound of relief on the other end of the line. “I wasn’t sure…if this was right. I found the number in Liam’s address book.”

“It’s my cell. What do you want?”

Her answer was soft, almost a whisper, but he heard it all the same. “To see you.”

Spike didn’t know how to respond. He glanced over at the couple on the couch, saw that they were still sleeping.

“Spike? Are you there?”

He sighed and ran his free hand through his sleep-tossed curls. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Can I see you? Please, Spike. I…I need to.”

The entire conversation was throwing him for a loop. What sort of game was this woman playing with him? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please,” she begged him again, and Spike didn’t know what to make of her neediness. “Just…just once.”

His gaze flickered down the hall, towards the room he shared with Dru. “I can’t.”

“Don’t say no yet, Will,” she pleaded. “Just…write down this address. And…and if you can, meet me there at two tomorrow, okay?”

“Fuck…” Spike sighed, wondering why he wasn’t hanging up. “Let me get a pen and paper.”

He shook his head, cursing himself even as he scribbled the address she gave him down on a torn piece of an old receipt. “I’m not going to be there, Buffy,” he told her, as he shoved the address into his jeans’ pocket.

“I will be,” she told him before the line went dead.

“Fuck,” Spike swore again as he closed the phone and slipped it back into his duster pocket, trading it out for another pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He left the apartment and stepped out onto the balcony, lighting his cigarette before he leaned over the edge, watching the activity below. The apartment complex’s pool had been drained for the winter, but several of his neighbors were still milling around it, socializing. One of them, a pretty young blonde whose name he’d never bothered to learn, looked up and him and waved. He gave a small wave back, though his disinterest was clear, and she turned back to the men with her.

It was the middle of January, yet the cool weather didn’t bother him, even as he stayed outside in nothing but a pair of worn jeans. Sometimes he fucking hated L.A.

He closed his mouth around the end of the cigarette, holding it in place as he dug into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper with the address on it, looking over it again. It was a motel, and not a particularly upscale one at that. He snorted, taking a drag off his cigarette before flicking the ash off over the edge of the balcony. It didn’t take a lot of speculation to know what was on her mind.

What did she think he was, her bloody rent boy? That she could just ring him up and demand his services?

He held the paper up above the tip of his cigarette, ready to let it burn. But then he hesitated, unable to set the flame.

Spike pulled the cigarette back and returned the address to his pocket. No, maybe he would go… Just to give her a piece of his mind, let her know she couldn’t jerk him around like this. What had happened at Christmas was a mistake, and not one he had any intention of making again.

Yeah, that’s what he’d do…

Spike leaned back over the railing, cigarette dangling from his fingertips.

*** *** ***

Buffy’s hands trembled as she continued to clutch the cell phone, even after she’d ended the call. Why had she done that? What was she doing? It had been bad enough to give into passion in the moment with Spike, but to actually plan an affair?

And how could she even pull it off? There was more than a slim chance that Liam would find out—and then what? What would he do to her if he found out about it?

This was the kind of set up that ended up getting profiled on some true crime show when it all went horribly, horribly wrong.

She shouldn’t go. Spike had already told her he didn’t want to be there—so why was she even bothering?

She wasn’t going to go through with it. It was a crazy, impulse decision, but it wasn’t too late to take it back. All she had to do was not go. What did it matter that she wanted him? She couldn’t ever have him, not really anyway. She’d made her choice the day she’d signed her life away to Liam Angelus.

Buffy could never continue an affair with William. It was too dangerous, for both of them. If she did meet him, it would be what…one last time? And what would that do for her other than cause more problems.

She needed to just let him go. Even if he had left school, he was still better off without her in his life. She had pushed him away for a reason, and she couldn’t undo that now.

No, she wouldn’t go…

Buffy opened her phone back up and went into the recent calls, deleting his number from her cell. She wouldn’t call him again, wouldn’t have any contact with him at all. It wasn’t fair of her to expect him to try to ease her pain. It was selfish, and not something she should do to William.

“Buffy! I thought I fucking told you to bring me something to eat!”

Buffy winced as Liam’s voice boomed from upstairs. “I’m…I’m coming! Just a minute!” Buffy called back.

“I want my lunch on my desk in five minutes, or your ass is mine!”

The door to his office slammed, and Buffy jumped. No, she didn’t need to bring William back into this life, no matter how much she needed the escape…

God, she needed the escape…

Buffy shoved her cell phone back into her pocket and rushed around to make Liam a sandwich for lunch. It was Sunday, the servants had the day off, and Liam was working at his home office.

Which meant her husband expected her to be at his beck and call.

She threw the sandwich together and ran upstairs, getting it on the desk before the five minute time limit was up. Liam glanced over at it, peeked under the bread, then brushed his hand over the table, knocking the plate to the ground and letting it shatter. “Fuck, Buffy! You know I don’t like turkey. How worthless are you?”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said as she knelt down to pick up the ruined plate and sandwich. “I just forgot.”

“Because you’re a goddamned idiot.”

“I’ll go make something else.”

“Don’t bother. You’ve already ruined my fucking concentration.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said again as she got up. “I didn’t mean…”

“Would you just shut up?” Liam snapped and he smacked her in the face. “I’m going to find a decent meal.”

He stormed out of the house, and Buffy slipped down to the ground, leaning against Liam’s desk with shards of the plate still in her hand.

She needed an escape…

*** *** ***

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Spike pulled into the parking lot of the motel, wondering why he was even there. Since Buffy’s phone call, he’d gone back and forth in his mind, deciding to meet her and to stand her up so many times it made his head spin.

Now, he was there, and still he wasn’t sure if he was going to go in. And furthermore, where was “in?” She hadn’t given him a room number, and he didn’t see her anywhere.

Maybe she’d been the one to stand him up…

Then, he noticed motion from the corner of his eye and turned to see a door open and her step out, keeping to the shadows of the room, even as she turned towards him. She looked smaller than he remembered somehow, as if she’d drawn into herself.

Spike wiped his palms on his jeans, this whole thing striking him as more than a little absurd. A man and a woman walked past his line of sight on the way to their own motel room, him in a business suit and her in a tight outfit that made her profession more than apparent. Was that what Buffy wanted out of him? And if so, why? She’d made it clear to him once that he wasn’t good enough for her.

He got out of the car, locking it up before he swaggered towards her, trying to make himself look cockier than he actually felt.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” Buffy said when he was standing in front of her.

Spike tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Neither was I.”

After several beats of awkward silence, Buffy cleared her throat and stepped aside, clearing the doorway. “Are you going to come in?”

He hesitated for a moment, remembering his plan to show up here only to tell her he didn’t want anything to do with her. But that would probably be easier inside the room. He wasn’t really in the mood to make a scene.

He followed her into the motel room, swallowing as she locked the door. However, he quickly fell back into his swagger, not allowing any of his nervousness to show, not to her. He couldn’t give her anything to exploit.

As soon as she turned to look at him again, Spike advanced on her, his jaw clinched and his nostrils flaring. “What is it you want from me, Buffy?” he demanded as she skittered backwards against the door, her eyes wide.

“I…I…” She tried to respond, but realized even she wasn’t sure of the answer.

Spike slammed his open hands on either side of her, jarring Buffy as the door trembled. “Answer me, dammit!”

“I don’t know!” Buffy yelled in reply, trying not to shrink away from him. She did too much of that these days…

He pulled back, throwing his arms up before he began to pace in front of her, reminding Buffy of an angry, caged panther. “Oh, you don’t know. You don’t bloody know. You call me over here, fuck with my life again, and you don’t know.”

“I don’t…” Buffy stopped, breathed in deeply as she brought her arms up and wrapped them around her chest. “I just want to feel something,” she admitted softly. “I went numb, didn’t feel for so long, and then you came back, and I…” Her last words came out barely above a whisper. “I feel something when you’re inside me, William.”

He stopped short at that and turned, anger warring with desire inside of him. He hated her. He loved her.

He wanted her.

“Go, Buffy,” he said, his voice tight. He knew now, looking at her, that coming here had been a mistake. He was too drawn to her, the pull of her body too much for him to fight it the way he’d planned. She needed to be the one to leave, the one to turn and run before he lost control. He’d felt something inside of her, too. “Just get out of here. We can’t do this.”

“Liam won’t know. He had to go to San Diego today for business. He won’t be back until late—if he comes back today at all.”

“That’s not what I…” Spike shook his head. “He isn’t why I want you to go.”

Buffy looked down, studying her hands for a moment. “I know.”

“Just go, Buffy.”

“No.”

Spike sighed heavily. Only a few minutes with this woman, and already she had his head spinning. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted, his voice almost breaking.

She looked back up, her eyes shining with the tears she was trying not to let fall. “I just want you to touch me. Please. You can make me forget, even if it’s only for a little while.”

He shook his head, still trying to fight a losing battle. “Why me, Buffy? Can’t you find someone else to give you this?”

“There is no one else, William. There’s only you.” Buffy took a deep breath to steady herself, then walked to him and placed her hands against his chest, feeling his heart beneath the surface as it thudded rapidly.

“Buffy, we can’t keep doing this…” Spike protested, even as he moved closer to her, his hips angling themselves towards hers.

She knew he was right. She was telling herself the same thing, even as her hands moved down, caressing his hard, muscled chest beneath his shirt. A list of the reasons why this thing between them was wrong would rival War and Peace in length, but at the moment, when she was with him—touching him—the single reason why seemed to outweigh everything else.

She needed him.

“One more time,” she breathed, pleading. “Touch me one more time, and I’ll let you go.”

He didn’t know how it had gotten to this point. Spike had been convinced that he was coming here to tell her he wanted nothing to do with her, but he hadn’t taken into account how easy it was to get trapped in her wide, green eyes.

“One more time,” he echoed as he moved in, his lips drawn to hers.

His mouth still locked with hers, Spike wrapped his arms around waist and lifted her up, swinging her over so they could both tumble onto the bed. Once there, Spike trailed his hands down to reach under Buffy’s skirt, noticing that she hadn’t even bothered to wear her panties. She’d come prepared for this, her intentions clearly not anything but sex.

It was all she wanted from him, and Spike couldn’t seem to stop himself from giving it to her.

Spike pushed his index finger inside of her, eliciting a gasp from Buffy. She writhed against him, moaning low when he added a second finger and began to rub circles against her clit with his thumb. Her eyes were closed tight and her own hands had dropped to her sides, clenched in tight fists. Spike didn’t want to care—wished he hadn’t even noticed—but it still stung to realize that despite her recent claims that it had to be him and him alone, Buffy was reluctant to even look at him. It drove home the point to him that he was servicing her, nothing more.

He supposed that also meant he’d grown capable of pleasing her since their first time together, yet that victory was bittersweet at best.

One hand still pleasuring her, Spike pulled up on his knees and used his other hand to free himself from his tight jeans. He leaned down again and pushed forward mechanically, trying to concentrate on the act rather than the feelings the woman beneath him evoked in him.

Yet as soon as he’d pushed the tip in, Buffy’s eyes opened, and she reached up to still him with a hand on his chest. “Spike…wait.”

He blinked and frowned in confusion. Wasn’t this what she wanted? “Pet?”

She blushed slightly, the action seeming out of place as she lay on the dirty motel bed with her skirt around her hips and an inch of his cock inside of her. “Every time we’ve done this, you’ve had your clothes on,” she said, her eyes darting downwards. “Maybe this time I could see you?”

Her request took him completely by surprise. He’d thought he’d known what was going in her mind, what sort of tryst she wanted, but now he was wondering if maybe he’d been wrong.

But what else could this be?

He rose up shakily and started undressing, watching from the corner of his eye as Buffy did the same.

The bed creaked as Spike climbed back on the bed, covering Buffy’s body again as she lay down, opening her legs so he could settle between them. She was looking at him now, her eyes trailing down to take him in. Her hands came up, trailing from the bottom of his chest to his shoulders, where she gripped him tightly.

Spike looked down at her, realizing this was the first time he’d really gotten the chance to see her as well. She’d stripped off her clothes their first time, but he hadn’t really been able to take her in then. However, now she was nude and stretched out beneath him, his to explore, to taste.

She’d called him here, she wanted to use him for her own release, but Spike made up his mind right then that if he was going to give her what she’d asked for, then it was going to be on his terms.

He took her hands off his shoulders and raised them up, pinning them above her head, her arms stretched taut. When he took his hands away from hers, Buffy started to lower her arms, but Spike stopped her with a look. “Keep them there, or I stop.”

Her breath hitched, but she kept her hands in place, her body on display for the man above her. Spike pulled back up to his knees, watching her through dark eyes as his hard, thick cock jutted proudly from his body.

In that moment, he realized he had to quit running from the truth, quit making excuses. He’d come here because he wanted this as much as she did. While he resented being used, it didn’t change the fact that this woman made him burn like no other, not even Drusilla.

He wanted this. He wanted her.

Spike skimmed his hands down her skin, goosebumps rising on her flesh in the wake. Her nipples were puckered, pointing up to him and begging him to taste. He didn’t resist. Instead, he leaned back in and sucked one into his mouth hard, scraping the sensitive bud with his teeth as he did.

Buffy’s cry of surprise turned into a low moan of pleasure and her hands clenched then opened, desperate to run her fingers through his bleached curls. When he switched to the other side and sucked her second nipple into his mouth, her hands came down, gripping his hair. Spike growled against her breast before grabbing her hands and wrenching back up, this time holding her in place.

He pulled up, expression and eyes dark. “If you want this, then it’s going to be on my terms. Got that, pet?” Buffy swallowed hard then nodded, stilling her hands under his. “Good girl,” Spike said roughly before he returned to her breasts, alternating between laving the nipples with his tongue and biting at the firm mounds.

Beneath him, Buffy whimpered, her hips twisting with desperate need as she struggled to keep her hands where he’d placed them. His cock throbbed against her inner thigh, and finally Spike had enough of the teasing. He knew she was wet, and he was ready to take what he wanted.

Spike lifted her legs, bending them up towards her head and moving her hands to now hold on to her ankles. She was spread completely open for him now, vulnerable to his every whim, and Buffy felt the muscles in her stomach contract.

This was what she’d wanted when she’d asked him to come here. She wanted him to take control, to take away the need for her to do anything but feel, succumb. One touch from Spike, and she lost herself in sensation, her worries seeming to disappear under pleasure too intense for her to think about anything else.

And when he was inside of her… She’d never felt anything like that before.

Buffy trembled, needing him like she’d never needed anything in her life. In these moments, when he was so close, breath and bodies mingling, she didn’t question that need. When he was there, when he touched her, it made sense.

“William…” she begged, the word coming out as a breathless pant. “Will, please.”

He knelt at the apex of her wide-spread legs and reached up to take her chin in his hand, making her look into his dark, haunted eyes. “It’s Spike. William’s gone.”

She knew otherwise. She saw flashes of him behind the wall he’d built, saw the kind, timid young man she’d fallen for over the summer. But there was no reason to argue the point now, so she simply held his gaze and told him what he wanted to hear. “Spike…”

Satisfied, he dropped his hand and moved forward, pushing into her body.

The movement of their bodies was harsh, primitive, their moans guttural. The setting and the circumstance didn’t allow for gentle touches or soft words, yet their eyes remained locked, even as they cried out in shared release.

*** *** ***

A lot of people have argued that Buffy should just go to a shelter. While that probably would be a smart move, it is often a move that is not made in real life, and one that I do not believe fits this story. Buffy has reasons for staying, some that I’ve already discussed and some that I haven’t. While I agree that it would be the best decision for her to leave Liam, people don’t always do what’s truly in their best interest. I am well aware of the fact that women’s shelters exist and that Buffy could seek outside intervention. But that is not the route I have chosen to take with this story.

Please review.

Afterwards, neither of them said anything for a long while, instead both lying on the bed, on their backs, space between them. Finally, Spike got up and walked towards his clothes, making Buffy panic for a moment at the thought of him leaving. But then she realized he was simply getting his cigarettes from his duster and relaxed as he lit one and came back to the bed.

Spike didn’t miss her reaction, and he turned to her from the other side bed, his head tilted slightly. “I would’ve thought you’d want to get me gone as soon as possible—or at least be the one heading off yourself.”

“If I didn’t have to go back, I never would.”

Spike had chosen the moment before she said that to take a drag on his cigarette, and immediately regretted that decision as he began to cough. Buffy leaned over and began to pat him on the back until he waved her off.

“Those things will kill you, you know,” Buffy said dryly.

He leaned over and flicked the ashes at the end of his cigarette into the ashtray beside the bed. “More power to them then.”

Buffy frowned, her brow furrowing. “Will…you don’t really want to die, do you?”

“I’m not about to go out and off myself, but…” He shrugged. “It’s not like it would be much of a tragedy if I went, though.”

Buffy sat up at that and turned towards him, placing her hands on his arm. Her touch took Spike by surprise, and he looked at her, confused. “You’ve got so much future in front of you. You’re young, and you’re smart, and you could have a great life. You just…”

Spike cut her off with a sharp, cynical bark of laughter. “Please. For one thing, pot and kettle here, ducks.”

She pulled her hands away from him as if his skin suddenly burned. “I signed my life away to your father. I don’t have a choice anymore.”

“And I was born without one.” He snubbed his cigarette out angrily in the ashtray before getting up from the bed and heading back towards his clothes, this time with the actual intention of leaving. He snatched up his jeans and started putting them on. “Even now I’m dependant on my father for money, and the only reason he gives me anything at all is because he’s legally obligated to support me while I’m in college. And as soon as he finds out I’m not, then I’m on my own.”

“Maybe that would be better,” Buffy said. “You need to get away from him, Spike, sever all the times, monetarily or otherwise.”

Spike jerked his shirt up off the floor as he turned angry eyes on Buffy. “This coming from his whore.”

Buffy reared back, his words stinging more than any physical blow ever could. “How dare you…”

Spike pulled his shirt on over his head. “How dare I what? Call it like it is? You got in my father’s bed for his money, Buffy. A pair of fancy rings and a marriage license doesn’t change what that is.”

“I married Liam because I loved him,” Buffy snapped. “I thought…I thought he was someone else.”

“And what, the big piles of money were just a perk?”

Buffy pulled the sheet up and covered herself, realizing for the first time that she was still exposed to him. “I’m not going to lie and tell you I didn’t like the idea of knowing I’d be keeping a roof over my head or where my next meal was coming from. That I didn’t relish the thought of not having to go back to that club ever again. But I would’ve loved the man I thought Liam was even if he’d been poor.” She shook her head, a mournful laugh bubbling up with a sob. “I thought I’d found my knight in shining armor.”

“Yeah, well, those don’t exist.”

“I know.” She sighed, regrouping before she turned her anger back on him. “You could get away, Spike. You don’t owe him anything. You had your chance, but instead you threw away it away and now you lounge around spending Daddy’s money like some spoiled little rich brat.”

Spike’s jaw clinched tightly as he pointed his finger towards her. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “And you don’t know a damn thing about me.”

He smirked coldly. “I know that little noise you make when I’m puttin’ it to you real good.”

Buffy gasped before her face hardened. “Go to hell.”

“Working on it.”

Spike finished dressing and left without another word, slamming the motel door behind him. His whole body shook and he swore loudly, slamming his hand into a concrete column, ripping the skin from his knuckles. He knew she was right, but he couldn’t stand to hear it from her.

This has been a mistake. From day one, it had all been a mistake. Spike walked back towards his car, determined not to look back.

Inside the motel room, Buffy lay wrapped in sex-scented sheets and cried.

*** *** ***

Spike didn’t know how long he’d been home. Drusilla was gone when he’d gotten back, and he’d simply gone into the bedroom and lay down on the bed, feeling sick from the whole encounter with Buffy.

He hadn’t bothered to turn on the light, and eventually, the sun had set, darkening the entire room. He felt tears at the corners of his eyes, but didn’t acknowledge them, knowing that acceptance would only hurt more.

He heard when Drusilla and her friends came back but he still didn’t move, waiting instead until Dru came to him, dancing into the bedroom to a tune only she could hear.

“You missed out on a wonderful afternoon, my Spike,” she announced as she moved towards the bed, seemingly oblivious to his distress. “I tried on so many lovely hats.”

She climbed onto the bed and over Spike, looking down at him, moonlit gleaming against his face. He glanced at her for only a moment before he pushed her off and sat up. Drusilla looked at him in confusion. “Spike?”

Spike’s encounter that day with Buffy had left him shaken, and now thinking about it brought a fact he’d been trying to ignore sharply into focus—he hadn’t touched Dru since Christmas.

While he knew his guilt and confusion over his affair with Buffy played a large part in that, there was something else there, too: an unasked and unanswered question hanging between them. It couldn’t be ignored much longer. Spike knew it, and so did Drusilla.

“You keep pushing me away,” Drusilla said, her voice shrill with anger, though Spike thought he could detect a trace of sadness, too. Or perhaps that was simply wishful thinking on his part. “Why won’t you touch me?”

Spike was too tired to dance around the subject. He looked at her, his eyes meeting hers. “Did you sleep with my father?”

Drusilla didn’t break his gaze. “Yes.”

He’d known what the truth was, even if he’d tried to convince himself otherwise. But now, hearing her so bluntly admit it, hit him harder than he’d even expected. Spike jumped up then turned to her, all the anger inside of him now directed at the brunette sitting on the bed. “How could you do that to me?” he yelled. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Drusilla jumped up, too, and met his angry glare with one of her own. “I was thinking you were shagging your trollop of a step-mum!” she screeched, her hands clenched in tight balls at her sides. “And don’t even try to deny it, William!”

Spike didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead, he replied with, “I wasn’t the first in this relationship to be unfaithful, Dru.”

“But I never looked at them like you looked at her!” Drusilla yelled back. “And the way she looked at you…” She sneered. “Made me want to rip her filthy little eyes out.”

“So you slept with my father? You know what he is, what he did to me, and you…” Spike took a step back and shook his head. “You did that to hurt me.”

“You were with her!” Drusilla screamed. “I know what she is to you, William! I know how she makes you feel.” She went to the table on Spike’s side of the bed and ripped open the drawer, picking up handfuls of paper and throwing them down onto the mattress. “Do you think I don’t read these? Do you think I don’t read the pretty words you write for her? You said I was going to be your muse! Me! I was going to be your dark goddess, Spike.” She threw another wad of handwritten poetry onto the mattress. “But they’re all for her!”

Spike swallowed, feeling suddenly too vulnerable, exposed. “Dru…don’t…”

“She’s always here!” Drusilla screeched. “Always between us…in your touch…in your kiss. And then you…” She yelled, the sound almost primal before she grabbed the papers from the bed and began to tear at them, shredding them to small tatters.

Spike moved quickly, grabbing her hands and wrenching the remaining poems from her. Drusilla yelled again, struggling to get them. “Stop it!” he snapped at her. He scooped up the remnants of the destroyed poems, hoping to find something to salvage. The action enraged Drusilla more, and she pushed him away from the bed.

“I’ll burn them!” she yelled, hysterical. “I’ll burn it all!”

He stumbled backwards, catching himself on the post of the bed. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Drusilla like this, but something about this time felt different. None of the usual desire to try to console her or beg for her forgiveness was there. He was just…tired. Spike dropped his hand and shook his head. “Then do it. I don’t bloody care anymore. I’m out.”

Dru froze, his tone giving her pause. “Spike?”

He held up his hands. “I’m out, Dru. I’ve had enough of this. Do whatever you want with whomever you want.” He went to the closet and pulled out his duffle bag, then began stuffing it with what few belongings were actually his.

Drusilla watched him, her expression confused as if she didn’t fully understand what was happening. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice going up in pitch.

Spike didn’t respond. Instead, he went back over to the bed and started stuffing what was left of the poems into his bag.

“No…no…” Drusilla shook her head frantically. “You can’t. You can’t.” When Spike continued to ignore her and simply zipped up the bag and threw it over his shoulder, Dru lunged at him, screaming hysterically as she attacking him with her fists and nails. Spike pushed her away hard, making her fall down to the ground.

His eyes were dark as he looked down at her, his expression cold. “I’ve had enough, Drusilla. I’m tired of being your bloody puppet.”

“She’ll never love you!” Drusilla yelled as Spike headed for the door. “She’ll hate you! She’ll hate you just like everyone else has always hated you!”

“I know.”

With that, Spike walked out.

*** *** ***

Buffy woke in a fog, not sure why she’d awakened at all. She rolled over, her arm hitting the empty side of the bed meant to be occupied by her husband before she realized she’d been woken up by the sound of her cell phone ringing.

She picked it up from her bedside table, frowning at the number showing up on the caller ID. Her sleep addled brain didn’t recognize it, but she flipped the phone open anyway. “Hello?”

“Buffy?”

Her heart missed a beat and she gasped. “Spike?” she asked softly, almost not trusting her own ears. In the state between sleep and complete wakefulness, hearing his voice seemed like a dream.

“I need you, baby. God, what I said today… I didn’t mean it. I only… Fuck, Buffy I need you so bloody much. Gotta touch you…taste you…fucking drown in you. Can I do that, kitten? Please, sweetheart…”

Buffy swallowed hard, her heart now thudding in her chest. Liam had called earlier and told her he’d decided to stay gone for the weekend, and a little voice in the back of her mind was quick to remind her of that, drowning out the one that knew seeing William again was a bad, bad idea. “I…”

“I came back to the motel. Got the same room. Meet me there. Please, baby. Please…”

She should hang up. Turn the phone off right now. Block his number and forget it all. It would be for his own good as well as her own. “I’ll be there soon.”

The call ended and Buffy hurried out of the bed.

*** *** ***

Buffy knocked on the motel door, rapping louder when Spike didn’t answer. She frowned, wondering for a moment if he’d only been messing with her head before she tried the doorknob and realized the door was unlocked.

She stepped into the room, gasping when she saw Spike unconscious on the bed. She panicked for a moment, thinking he could’ve been attacked, until she noticed the mostly-empty bottle on the bedside table and realized he’d just drunk himself into a stupor. Saying a silent prayer of thanks that he hadn’t met an untimely end by leaving himself this vulnerable in a less-than-savory area of Los Angeles, Buffy locked the door and made her way over to the bed.

She sat down beside Spike and watched him, a small smile creeping unbidden to her features. Even with his dark clothes and his shock of white hair, he looked more like her William now than he had since he’d come back as Spike. His face was restful, his eyes closed so she couldn’t see the pain in them.

A quick glance at the clock told her it was almost four in the morning. She knew she shouldn’t be here, especially after what had happened the last time they were in this room.

But she was so tired, and the bed looked so inviting with him in it. Refusing to over think it now, Buffy nestled against him and quickly fell into the most peaceful sleep she’d known in a long time.

*** *** ***

Please review!

Spike woke up feeling the effects of the large amount of liquor he’d ingested the night before. However, he also felt strangely rested.

It only took him a moment after he opened his eyes to realize why.

Buffy was curled up at his side, sound asleep with a slight upturn to the corner of her lips. One of her arms was stretched out across his chest, her hand holding on lightly to his bicep, while her leg was wrapped around his.

She looked…comfortable.

Still, seeing her there begged the question of how exactly she got there, and Spike thought he might have had a dim recollection of calling her. But even if he had, it shocked him to think that she would not only actually come, but join him in the bed to sleep snuggled against his side—especially after how they’d last parted.

Yet there she was, and Spike was grateful his stomach didn’t seem to be rebelling enough to make him leave the bed. He was quite content to stay right there, watching her sleep.

And that in itself was a revelation. He’d left Drusilla the night before—the woman he’d thought he loved—and yet, he couldn’t seem to find a lot to regret in that decision. When he was honest with himself, he knew their relationship had been rocky at best and disastrous as a matter of course, and ending it felt more like a relief than anything else. It hadn’t even been that which had driven him to drink the night before. It had been the woman in his arms right now. Buffy. He’d hurt her, and despite everything she’d ever done to him, that knowledge broke him apart.

He didn’t want to hurt her. He’d been so angry, so hurt himself, that he thought he did, but now he realized he didn’t. He wanted to take her hurt away. He wanted to love her.

He did love her.

Spike watched her sleeping until she awoke with a stretch and a small, mewling noise he couldn’t help but smile at. Buffy’s eyes blinked open, a moment of confusion wrinkling her brow before she stretched again and gave him a sleepy, “Hey.”

The smile didn’t fall from his face. “Hey.”

Buffy smiled back for a moment before a darker expression clouded her features, and Spike felt his heart drop, ready for her to freak out and run away.

“You passed out with your door unlocked last night, you mo’,” she scolded him. “What if someone other than me had come along and you’d ended up dead, huh?” She slapped his chest. “Don’t do things like that.”

Spike blinked, staring at her for a moment before his grin returned, broader than before. Buffy looked at him like he was insane. “Why are you smiling? You could’ve been totally axe-murdered last night, you know.”

“First off, luv, we’re in LA. Odds are I’d be shot, not axed. And second, well, you were worried about me.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Of course I was. Duh.”

He ran his hand down her cheek. “Didn’t think you’d care. Not after what I said to you yesterday…”

“I said things to you, too,” Buffy replied, her gaze falling. “I’ve said lots of things to you I shouldn’t have.”

Spike took her hand, linking his fingers with hers. “I didn’t mean them, Buffy. What I said yesterday—I was just lashing out. I don’t think that of you.”

“I didn’t mean any of them either,” Buffy told him, her eyes going to where their hands were joined. “Even that morning after we…the first time…what I said. I…I wanted to hurt you so you’d get over me and you’d go have a better life. And I realize now I made a mistake, and I hated doing that to you even at the time, but I was afraid that you’d want to stay around me and never get away from Liam, and I didn’t want that for you.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about that morning and she tightened her grip on his fingers.

Spike sucked in a breath, not sure what to do with what she’d just told him. He’d spent so much time reacting to what she’d said to him that morning that he didn’t know what to think now that she was telling him it was an attempt—albeit a misguided one—to protect him. “You…you didn’t not want me because I wasn’t good enough?” he asked, his voice faltering.

Buffy sighed. “Honestly, Spike? God, this is going to sound horrible, but I don’t even remember that night. I was so drunk you could’ve been the Second Coming of Casanova and I’d have no idea.”

Suddenly seeing the event with firsthand knowledge he hadn’t had at the time, everything seemed to shift in Spike’s mind. “That’s why I ran into the bathroom that morning. You were hungover.”

“Well, yeah,” Buffy replied, looking up again. “What, did you think I got sick just from waking up next to you?” She saw a flash of pain in his eyes and gasped. “Oh god, you did. Will, I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I wish I could take that morning back, do it over, make it better, something. I just wish…”

Spike put his finger to her lips when he noticed her starting to cry again. “Shh. That’s the past, yeah?”

“Still, I…”

“Don’t, baby. I don’t want to see you cry.”

Buffy looked up at him, frowning. After the way she’d treated him, he was worried about seeing her cry? “Will…”

“Let’s just forget it, kitten. We’ll call this our first time.”

“What do you…” Before Buffy could finish asking him what he’d meant by that, Spike had leaned in and caught her mouth in a passionate kiss. She surrendered immediately, moaning against his lips as she moved one hand up to tangle in his hair. It amazed her that with as much processing he must do to it to get it to look like that it could still feel so soft.

Spike’s hands dipped under Buffy’s shirt and roamed her bare skin, finally settling on her breasts, cupping the firm mounds, his thumbs flicking over her pebbled nipples. She made heady little sounds in response, nipping at his lips when he did something that felt especially good.

Suddenly, she pushed him away, and Spike frowned before she nudged him on his back and began to slide down. She cupped him through her jeans with one hand, the other reaching for the buttons of his fly. With a grin that made him shiver, Buffy looked up and caught his gaze. “It’s time I did something for you, Spike.”

He started to be chivalrous and tell her she didn’t have to, but when she pulled him out of his jeans and licked the tip of his cock with purpose, he reached down and cupped the back of her head instead.

Buffy reached back into his jeans and pulled out his balls, alternating between massaging and squeezing them as she wrapped her other hand around the base of his cock, stroking what she couldn’t get in her mouth.

Spike’s long fingers tangled in her hair, grunts and moans interspersed with harsh puffs of breath sounding from him. Buffy stole a glance at his face, loving what she saw. There was no doubt he was enjoying this, and it made her happy to know she was giving him something good.

Suddenly, however, he was pulling her up and off his cock. Buffy looked at him in confusion, and Spike did his best to explain what he wanted, even though he was already behind the real use of words.

“Want…inside you…”

Buffy nodded, his explanation more than enough. She wanted him inside, too… She hopped off the bed to remove her clothes, watching as Spike scrambled to do the same. As soon as they were both undressed, she was on him again, her body stretched over his as she kissed him, drawn to his mouth. Spike’s hands roamed over her body, stroking her back and bottom before he ran one hand between her legs, feeling the moisture there and knowing she was as ready as he was. Gently, he nudged her legs apart, and Buffy pulled up, straddling his hips with Spike’s proud cock jutting out between them.

She took hold of him with one hand, running her thumb along the slit and spreading his precum around the tip. “No one’s ever made me feel as good as you do,” Buffy told him, her eyes locking with his. “No one.”

Even if his own self doubts would plague him later, in that moment, he believed her.

Her hand moved up, then down, once, caressing him, soothing him, before Buffy lifted up and eased down onto his cock. His size always led to some pain when he entered her, but Buffy had never minded. In fact, she welcomed it. It let her know he was really there, filling her.

Buffy had never been much of a talker during sex, but she forced the words out, needing to replace the hurtful words she’d said to him before. “So good, William,” she said, gasping loudly as his hips bucked up. “So good…”

“Buffy…oh, Buffy…perfect…tight…” Spike trailed off with a groan and pushed up hard, grasping onto her hips as he did. Buffy cried out, moving with him, setting a rhythm as she put her hands over his, feeling the muscles in them flex with every thrust.

“Never…never wanted anyone like you. Can’t…can’t stop wanting you…” Spike thrust hard beneath her, and she threw her head back, crying out his name. “Will!”

Seeing the look of sheer ecstasy on her face made whatever bit of control Spike had left snap and he flipped her over with a growl, setting a harsh, unrelenting pace as he pounded into her welcoming body. Buffy wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, pulling him closer, needing him deeper.

She didn’t know what it was that drew her to this man in a way she’d never felt before, but she couldn’t deny it. Not now, not when he was surrounding her, blocking out everything else in her world but the feel of him making love to her. Pleasure built inside of her, coiling tight, and she couldn’t speak anymore, only able to tell him with moans and whimpers how he made her feel. But it was enough, the sounds he made in response, the hot, desperate kisses he pressed against her skin, told her he knew.

She came hard, her orgasm lingering, shooting through her entire body, making her tremble beneath him as her pussy clenched down on him, ensuring that Spike followed closely behind. He bellowed her name, the word wrapped in relief, and Buffy held on, not letting go even when he finally collapsed against her, breathing hard against the curve of her neck.

Her legs went limp and slipped to the mattress, but her arms kept him close, her hands massaging the muscles of his back. Spike made a soft sigh of contentment against her skin as he pressed kisses against her neck, making Buffy tremble all over again.

“How was that for a first time?” Spike murmured against her ear, adding a nip to the lobe.

Buffy chuckled, even as tears blurred her eyes. “It was beautiful, William.”

He looked up, saw her eyes, and frowned as he pulled up on his arms to look at her face. “Don’t cry, baby. Please.”

“I’m sorry. I just… I don’t even know what to say right now, Spike.”

Spike leaned in, kissed the tears off her cheeks. “I know, sweetheart. But you don’t have to say anything. I know.”

She reached up and threaded her fingers into his hair. “Why couldn’t I have met you first?”

“Leave him,” Spike replied, the words leaving his mouth before he even realized they were coming.

Buffy shook her head “I can’t. Please don’t do this now. I just…I just want to pretend that none of that matters, and it’s only us. Can it be only us for now?”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but he also knew it was the only one he could really expect. Still, he was desperate for whatever he could have with her, even if it was only a taste of what he really wanted.

But a taste was better than nothing.

He leaned back in for a kiss.

*** *** ***

Please review.

Buffy kept her gaze locked above her. She wanted to watch Spike as he moved inside her, wanted to watch the way his muscles ripples, the way his eyes would slide closed only to snap open and find hers again. Glistening, strong, intense – he was beautiful.

She wanted to look at him and not the room around them. Not the dirty, overused motel room that made this all look cheap. It didn’t matter what the circumstances behind their union were, what they had wasn’t cheap. It was…

He strained above her, gasping her name as he came inside of her, and the sight alone made her join him, the beauty of his release overpowering anything that would try to cheapen this. This was…

Something she was afraid to put a name to when she knew she couldn’t keep it.

Spike rolled off of her, struggling to catch his breath for a moment before he rolled over and got his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand. Buffy watched him as he lit one, wondering why she found the act sensual for him when it had never had the same effect on her with any other man.

She conceded it probably wasn’t the cigarette. It was just him. He’d managed to rewire her until everything he did spoke of sex to her.

Still, she couldn’t seem to resist the urge to tease him. “Moving on to the post-coital cigarette, huh? Does that mean you’re done with me?” She added a pout to her words for good measure.

Spike turned, looking at Buffy as if she were completely insane. “You can’t be serious. I may have youthful stamina and all, but even I can only get it up so many times in one afternoon.”

Buffy giggled. “I’m just teasing you. Honestly, I think I’ve reached the end of my stamina, too. I ache in places I’d forgotten I even have.”

He smirked around his cigarette, his eyes smoldering with a desire he’d act upon once his body caught up with his want for the woman beside him. Then, he was stubbing out the cigarette and getting off the bed, causing Buffy to frown in confusion. She wondered if he was simply going to leave now that they were finished, and the thought alone hurt her more than she wanted to admit.

But he didn’t go to the door. Instead, he headed towards the bathroom, and Buffy relaxed, thinking her question was answered until she heard water running and frowned again. “Spike?”

He reappeared from the bathroom a few moments later and came towards the bed, scooping her up in his arms. She gasped, her own arms automatically holding on to him. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you with those aches,” he replied with a grin she found both roguish and endearing at the same time – which she decided was a pretty good description of him most of the time, now that she thought about it.

Spike carried her into the bathroom, putting her down only long enough to figure out a way to maneuver them both into the small motel tub. She wasn’t sure how he managed it, only that he had, and she was now resting against his firm chest, warm water surrounding her. She murmured in contentment, her eyes drifting closed.

“I wish my life could stay like this.”

“Why can’t it?”

And just like that, it was if the water had suddenly grown cold. Her eyes snapped open, and she struggled to get up, though Spike’s arms tightened around her and held her in place. “It just can’t, Spike. Let me go.”

“No. There’s something you aren’t telling me, and I think I deserve to know what it is. We both know Liam’s a right bastard who wouldn’t appreciate losing what he considers ‘his,’ but there’s more going on here. What is it, Buffy? What has he done to keep you with him?”

Tears pricked her eyes. “Will, please. I can’t…”

His arms were still tight around her, but his hands were soft, gently stroking her under the water. “Just tell me, baby. Maybe I can help.”

“You can’t. No one can.”

“Tell me, Buffy.”

She sighed, her desire to continue fighting to keep her secret waning. If anything, maybe it would feel good to simply get it off her chest. “I signed a really bad prenup, okay?”

Spike’s arms fell from around her waist. “Oh. So it is just money then.”

“No! God, Spike, no!” Buffy craned her neck around to try to look at him the best she could. “Do you really think I’d put up with all of this from Liam just to get his money? It’s not like I even have any real access to his accounts. I have an allowance, like a child.”

Spike’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “So what in the prenup is keeping you, Buffy?”

“It’s not his money that’s the issue. It’s mine.” Buffy paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as she prepared to admit to the biggest mistake of her life. “When I met Liam, I was badly in debt. My mother’s insurance didn’t cover enough of her treatment, and when she died, I inherited all of that, plus any other debt she had accrued, including a mortgage and the business loan she took out to start a gallery I was in no shape to run in her place. Not to mention the loans she’d taken out to send me to college. So yeah, big debt, and no money in my pocket.” She shook her head, a lump forming in her throat. “It wasn’t uncommon for the money going out to exceed the money coming in. Sometimes I’d go for days without a real meal.”

Spike listened to her confession, his heart tightening in his chest as his arms went around her again, this time in comfort. He knew Liam well enough to know where this was going, and it made his stomach turn.

“When Liam asked me to marry him, I told him no. I didn’t want that sort of debt becoming someone else’s problem, too, y’know? I knew he had money, but I didn’t know…I didn’t know how much. I couldn’t even fathom how much, since even when I was a child and life was easier with my father still around, we’d never had money like that. And Liam, well, he kept pushing the marriage issue until finally I explained to him why I’d said no thinking that would make him change his mind. But it didn’t. He laughed. He told me he could make all of that go away for me and it wouldn’t be any problem for him at all. I thought…” Buffy stopped and shook her head, hating the tears that she could never seem to keep away for long.

“I thought I’d found my Prince Charming. My hero… I thought he was going to take me away from all of that and give me this wonderful new life. Every day wouldn’t be a struggle anymore, and I’d have someone to love me. So when he told me his lawyer wanted me to sign a prenup as just a formality, I did it. I didn’t even read what I was signing. I just signed. I trusted him.”

One of Spike’s hands trailed up to stroke her hair, coaxing her to go on. “What did it say, sweetheart?”

“Later – too much later – I actually read it. And all that money I gave him? In the event that we get divorced for any reason at all, that becomes a loan – with interest. And if I don’t pay it back, any wages I earn will be garnished up to fifty percent. So leaving him wouldn’t just leave me with nothing. It would leave me with less than nothing.”

Spike sputtered, the rhythm of the hand in her hair faltering. “Can he do that?”

“It’s a legally-binding contract, Spike – and I signed it. He owns me.” She shook her head. “You were right yesterday. I am his whore. God, I feel like worse. He just makes me feel…dirty.”

“How often does he hit you?”

The blunt question shocked her, and Buffy froze, almost denying it, almost asking him why he’d even ask such a thing, but then she knew, and she felt cold inside. “It’s not every day. How often was it for you?”

“Enough to fuck me up good and proper.”

She leaned back against him, her head tilting to rest in the crook of his neck. “You should stay away from me, William. I’ll only keep you tied to him.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“I know.” He ran his hand down her hair one more time as he kissed the top of her head. “I’m not leaving you trapped in there, kitten. If I can give you an escape, even if it’s only for a little while, I will.”

“We’ll only be borrowing time.”

“I know.”

Buffy closed her eyes and let him hold her.

*** *** ***

As soon as she pulled into the garage and turned off the car’s engine, Buffy started to cry. Being in this hell now was even worse than it had been the day before. After the few stolen hours of heaven with Spike, the darkness she faced every day now became almost too much to bear.

She stole a glance at the keys still hanging in the ignition and thought about turning the car on again, thought about just letting it run. She’d heard it was just like falling asleep…

But she wouldn’t go that way. If nothing else, she wouldn’t give Liam the satisfaction of knowing he’d driven her to that. No, she wouldn’t be the first to go, and certainly not by her own hand. If nothing else, she would fight to keep going on knowing that someday she’d be able to spit on his grave. It was something to look forward to at least.

She jerked the keys from the ignition and tossed them into her purse. She’d beaten Liam home, so at least she could get some rest now before it started up again.

Reminding herself again that she’d once been strong, Buffy started towards the house.

*** *** ***

Spike stared up at the cracked ceiling above him. He knew he couldn’t stay in this motel forever, but his sudden decision to leave Drusilla had given him the problem of not having a place to live anymore. Which meant he had to find one.

And a job. He needed to find one of those, too. Maybe more than one.

Buffy hadn’t told him how much money she owed Liam, but Spike knew it had to be more than either of them currently had real access to, especially with interest tacked on. But that didn’t mean things were completely helpless, did it? Didn’t prenups sometimes not hold up in court when they were so grossly unfair to one party? And if Buffy could prove abuse, then maybe she wouldn’t have to pay him anything at all.

His mind had been rushing ever since Buffy had made her confession in the tub. He hadn’t said anything to her yet because he had a feeling she’d only act like it was impossible, but Spike had decided he had to save her. Liam hadn’t turned out to be her hero, but he could. He’d go out, start making money on his own so he wouldn’t have to rely on his father anymore, and then he could take her away, too.

Maybe they could leave Los Angeles all together. Leave California, hell, the States. He’d liked living in England. Perhaps he and Buffy could go there and leave all of this behind them. They could start over together, build a life far away from the reach of Liam’s shadow.

The idea made him smile, hope filling him for the first time in longer than he could remember. If he had the money to make her deal with Liam no longer a problem, then Spike had no doubt Buffy would go with him. She loved him. She hadn’t said the words, sure, but Spike had felt in the way she’d touched him, seen it in the way she looked at him.

And in the meantime, they were going to continue their affair. Buffy had told him she would call him when she could get away, and they would arrange places to meet. It wasn’t ideal, but it would be enough to hold him over until they could be together. And then when they finally were together for real, well, that was something to look forward to.

All he had to do was make sure she stayed strong until that day came.

*** *** ***

I know it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve posted, but they’ve been a stressful couple of weeks. As I’ve said before, I’ll post when I can, and begging me for updates won’t make any difference at all. Unless you can offer to work my 45+ hours a week job for me, cure my carpal tunnel syndrome, and manage to do something about my mental fatigue, updates are not going to be speedy. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about that. As it is, I’m pushing to write what I can because I know there are people who want to keep reading this story and others from me, and I want to be able to give you that. But I’m limited both physically and as far as time is concerned, so please be patient and don’t harass me. Reviews that do nothing but beg for updates only add to my stress because it stresses me out enough already that I can’t write as much as I want to.

Thank you for your continued patience and understanding, and I hope you also continue to enjoy the story.

It was two weeks before Buffy finally got a chance to get away from Liam again. She’d wondered for a while if he somehow knew what she’d done and if he was spending so much time at home just to keep her there, to torment her.

But then he was gone, off on “business” for the weekend. She doubted any of his business associates would actually have any use for whatever was in the long, sleek black velvet jewelry box she’d seen him slip into his bag, but she didn’t care. If he was otherwise occupied, then she could be, too.

Spike had answered her call on the first ring, not even bothering to hide his desperation to see her. She appreciated his willingness to be real with her, to not play the stupid games that tended to accompany this sort of thing. They’d played those before, and doing so had gotten them nowhere good.

He’d given her an address, and she’d headed there without question, leaving as soon as she was sure Liam was gone. Half a knock at the door, and it was opening, letting her know Spike had been right behind it, waiting for her.

He pulled her in and against him, kissing her even as he fumbled blindly to lock the door. Too many lonely nights between that moment and their last time in the motel, they didn’t bother to speak, didn’t bother to even find the bed.

Her back pressed against the nearest wall, Buffy hoisted her legs around Spike’s waist, shivering at his wordless groan as it sounded in her mouth. He tasted good, like something she’d been craving a flavor she could almost feel on her tongue but had been denied too long.

Spike pulled away, spoke for the first time since she’d arrived, his words reverberating against Buffy’s lips. “God, you taste good.”

She smiled, a warmth bursting inside of her. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

He smiled back softly before his eyes darkened with lust again and his lips caught hers, his hips thrusting desperately. Buffy pushed back against him, her hands roaming his back, reaching into the waist band of his jeans to tug at his shirt, needing to feel his skin. Spike adjusted his hands to cup her ass, gripping the bare, firm globes as he pulled her even closer, her skirt riding up towards her gyrating hips.

Too desperate with desire to worry about things like gravity, they didn’t notice when their balance started to falter until they were in a heap on the ground.

Spike groaned, with pain this time, as he rubbed the back of his head. “Ow.”

Buffy looked up from where she’d landed on his chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am. You?”

“I think I’ll live.” He shifted against her as a smile started to tug at his lips.

Buffy smiled back, even as she blushed slightly. “I guess maybe we should go to the bedroom…”

Spike wrapped his arms around her, his hands sliding back down to her bottom. “Or you could just get naked and ride me right here. Either way.”

Buffy laughed in response, and Spike wished it was a sound he could hear more often. But then she was sliding over him, straddling his waist, leaning in to catch his lips again, and his thoughts were taking a different turn again.

“Open my jeans, luv,” Spike ordered hotly as she pulled up. “I need to be inside you.”

She looked down at him, her eyes dark and a smirk on her lips. “I don’t know, Spike…you took a pretty hard fall there. Maybe I should go easy on you.”

His hands tightened on her ass as he pushed hard against her. “Don’t you dare.”

Buffy rotated her hips in reply, moaning loudly as the seam of his jeans rubbed against her. She did it again, a tremor going through her. “Kitten…” Spike said, desperate need in his voice. “Baby, please.”

She locked her eyes with his and ground her hips again. “Mmm… Baby, I’m so wet.”

Spike’s nostrils flared, his eyes growing almost black. “Buffy…”

There was a tone of warning in his voice, and Buffy trembled. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she was pushing her own limits, loving how crazy she was driving him. She wanted him to snap, wanted him to lose himself completely in her. She wanted him over the edge, so lost to lust he knew nothing but needing her.

She pulled off her shirt and tossed it to the side, showing Spike her panties weren’t the only underwear she’d gone without. His eyes grew even hungrier, zeroing in on her chest. Buffy kept grinding her hips against him as her hands crept to her breasts, cupping them, pushing them up, her thumbs and forefingers pinching her nipples.

“Buffy…”

Her name was like a growl from him, but she didn’t give in yet, didn’t succumb to their shared desire. Instead, she moaned, her head thrown back as she kept moving, testing the limits of her lover’s control.

Until it snapped.

Buffy cried out in surprise as Spike sat up and grabbed her, managing to lift her up and throw her over the arm of the couch before she could react. One strong hand pressed against the small of her back, keeping her in place as he opened his jeans and finally slid forward into the place he most wanted to be.

She grabbed onto the couch cushion, fighting to keep from falling forward with each of his hard thrusts. She’d wanted to drive him to this, wanted to see his passion in full force, and she had gotten it.

Suddenly, his hand came down hard on her ass where it was exposed by her upturned skirt and Buffy yelped.

“You were very naughty there, kitten, teasing me like that,” Spike said gruffly as he spanked her again. “Very, very naughty.”

Buffy had no words for a response. Instead, she just grunted as he thrust inside her then cried out as he delivered another blow. Her head was swimming, her body on sensation overload. She was so close…if he would just…

The next slap to her ass seemed to be timed perfectly with the motion of his cock and she wailed in release, bucking so hard Spike almost lost his balance again. But he grabbed her hips and held on, moving frantically until he was coming as well, spending himself inside of her.

They slid to the floor in a heap beside the couch, both too limp now to actually manage to get onto the furniture. After a moment of silence, Buffy began to shift. “My ass stings.”

Spike turned towards her, worry in his eyes. “God, baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I just… I didn’t mean…”

Buffy put her finger against his lips. “Shh. I liked it. A lot. I’m fine, really.”

He looked down and away from her, his next words so soft she almost didn’t hear them. “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“You didn’t. Not like that anyway.” She put her hand under his chin and tilted his face back towards her. “I like that, Spike. I like everything you do to me. I want you to do it again sometime.”

He met her eyes hesitantly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She moved to straddle his lap and gave him a sultry smile. “You made me come so hard when you did that. I loved it.”

The smile he gave her in response was boyish, and it reminded Buffy how young and insecure he really was. Granted, he wasn’t much younger than her, but his sexual experience was substantially less than hers, that she knew. He was still testing his own limits, learning his own desires and kinks, too.

“I’d let you know if anything you ever did went too far, okay? Don’t be afraid to try things with me.” She pressed a soft kiss against his forehead. “I trust you not to hurt me, William.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Buffy.”

“I know.” She kissed him again, on his lips this time, sighing at just the taste of him. And his lips… God, they were perfect. Full and soft, but masculine, too. She knew she’d never be able to get enough of them.

Yet she finally did have to pull away, and when she did, she took a quick look around, realizing she still didn’t really know where she was. She decided to ask. “Where are we?”

Spike chuckled. “My apartment, luv. Just moved in last week.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Got a job at a restaurant a couple blocks over, too.”

“A job?”

“I figured it was about time I learned to take care of myself,” he replied with a shrug.

“Spike, what I said the other day…”

“Don’t, okay. This isn’t about that. Just… Let me show you the bedroom?”

She knew there were still things left unsaid, but Buffy nodded and let him pick her up and carry her to bed.

*** *** ***

Spike woke slowly from a post-coital nap, groggily listening to the sound of Buffy rummaging around his bedroom. He perked up, blinking as he watched her. “Pet? Looking for something?”

“Yup,” she replied before turning around and holding up two of the black ties his new job required him to wear. “And I found it.”

“What are you going to do with my ties, luv?” Spike asked with a frown.

“I’m not going to do anything with them,” Buffy replied as she came back over to the bed and crawled into his lap, straddling his legs. “You are.”

His eyebrow arched. “And what am I going to do with them?”

Buffy held them out. “Tie me up.”

Spike stared at her for a few moments before he shook his head and blink. “What?”

“Tie me up,” Buffy repeated. “Here, one for each hand. Have at it.”

Spike continued to stare, unsure of how to respond. Well, most of him was anyway. His cock knew exactly how to respond—by jumping up to full attention. He coughed, then admitted, “I’ve never been the one to do the tying, Buffy.”

“And I’m sure you’ll catch on as quickly as you have with everything else. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Spike took the ties though he didn’t move to use them. “What are you trying to prove, Buffy?”

“Nothing.” When Spike’s eyebrow arched, Buffy sighed. “I want you to know I trust you.” She put her hands against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “I want to give you the chance to explore my body, too.” Buffy leaned in, nipped at his ear. “Learn how you like to touch me.”

“I like touching you everywhere,” he replied, his voice growing deeper, huskier.

“And I like you touching.” She took his hands, lifted them up so the ties were in between then again, then met his eyes and pouted. “Play with me?”

One look at that pout and he was gone. He cupped the back of her head, pushed her mouth against his hard, shivering as she moaned in response.

Then, he flipped them over, covering her body as he lowered her down to the mattress. Spike ran his hands up her sides, stretching her arms above her head as he did. She kept her hands in place, waiting for him to tie her down. He took a deep breath, the idea of this exciting him even more than he’d thought it would. With Drusilla, she’d always wanted to be the one in charge, seeing him as hers to mold. It had been fine for him at first, his inexperience making him need her tutelage.

But as time went on, he’d started to want more control for himself, started to want dominance. He’d grown more into the persona he’d taken for himself, and now he wanted to take what Buffy was offering him.

Concentrating on his desire over his nervousness, Spike used the ties to bind both of Buffy’s hands, securing her to the bed. Then, he pulled up, raked his eyes over her, and shivered.

Oh yeah, he was going to like this…

Spike ran his hands down her sides again, feeling her tremble at his touch. “You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, the words coming unbidden.

Buffy looked up at him, her eyelids hooded. He made her feel like what he said was true… “Touch me, Spike. Please.”

He glanced up at her face, shaking off his awe and replacing it with a smirk. “I’m in control here, baby. You be patient.”

Buffy replied with a pout. “But I want you touching me now.”

Spike cracked his hand against her inner thigh, making Buffy yelp. “Be patient.”

He looked so stern now, and the red mark on her skin stung. Buffy felt a rush of moisture between her legs and hoped this was turning him on as much as it was her.

Spike softened momentarily and met Buffy’s eyes. “Was that all right?”

“Uh huh,” Buffy replied, swallowing. “Do go on.”

He chuckled, and then the stern look was back in place. Then, he leaned forward, ghosted his hands down her skin, raising goosebumps in the process. “I like you like this, pet. All trussed up and just for me.” He pushed her thighs apart and ran a long finger down her pussy, coating the digit in moisture before pulling his hand up again, holding his glistening finger up for her to see. “Is this all for me, too?”

Buffy swallowed, her breath coming out in sharp pants. Spike had barely even touched her, and already she was feeling overheated, desperate for his touch.

She watched as Spike brought the finger to his lips and licked it slowly, his eyes locked with Buffy as he did. He moaned low in his throat, savoring her flavor, and Buffy whimpered, the sight only serving to make her hotter.

“God, you’re the best fucking thing I’ve ever tasted, baby. I’ve got to have more.” Without any further warning, he grabbed her legs and hoisted her hips up to meet his dipping mouth, his tongue darting out to slip inside of her. Buffy cried out in surprise and pleasure, her hands flexing helplessly against her bonds. She ached to touch him, yet there was something sweet in the denial as well.

And what he was doing to her… She’d surrendered completely to him, left herself at his mercy, and yet he’d chosen to pleasure her. He could easily ignore her needs and take only for himself now, but it was his desire to do something for her.

But if his decision to see to her despite the fact he was the one in control didn’t prove to Buffy how much he enjoyed her pleasuring her, the sounds he made as he lapped at her with his tongue were. He didn’t simply eat her out. He feasted. Spike moaned loudly, suckled at her with wet, hungry noises. His tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, flicking her clit, then dipping inside of her, then on her clit again, her brain struggling to keep up with the rapid succession of sensation until it couldn’t anymore. She wailed in pleasure, her body spasming as the headboard banged against the wall with the movements of her still-bound wrists.

Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly take anymore, Spike pulled up, licking his lips like a cat that had just finished a saucer of milk. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face, as if silently teasing her for the way she’d fallen apart, yet his eyes were dark, letting Buffy know he was barely holding himself together as well.

A fleeting thought back to their first time entered her mind, and Buffy reminded herself to keep assuring him of his prowess, to undo the damage she’d done in the past.

“You’re so good at that, William. God, what you do to me…”

Spike’s smile grew as he leaned down, stretching his body over her. “It’s easy to be with you, baby. You taste so good – I can’t get enough.” As if to punctuate his point, he took a long swipe with his tongue at her neck, tasting the flavor of her skin.

Buffy moaned, her hands flexing helplessly. He’d just made her come so hard she’d seen stars and already she was wanting him again. Could she ever get her fill of this man?

As if their thoughts were moving in tandem, Spike leaned back down and whispered against her ear, “I could never get enough of you, Buffy. No matter how much I have, I always want more.”

She moaned again, not able to form the words for what she felt. She didn’t want him to get enough. She wanted him to always crave her like he did in this moment, to need her this desperately. She wanted to always be his addiction.

He spoke again, barely above a whisper this time, and Buffy almost didn’t hear, almost didn’t realize what the words were as he followed them by pushing into her body, filling her so completely with his cock. But she did hear them, and as they echoed in her mind, she knew she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t.

“I love you.”

*** *** ***

Please review.

Despite the fact he hadn’t meant to say it, Spike knew he had. He was keenly aware the words had been spoken; the moment had brought his defenses down to a point where he was unable to hold them back from her any longer.

He was also keenly aware of the fact she had said nothing since.

He knew she’d heard them. Her eyes had grown wide, a small gasp sounding from her. Granted, Spike knew that wasn’t necessarily unusual for when he entered her, but there had been something else there, more than just her response to pleasure.

And if that hadn’t been enough to let him know, how tense she was beside him now was a definite tip off.

Spike ran his hand down Buffy’s arm, feeling the goose bumps that rose in the wake of his touch. She wasn’t talking—certainly wasn’t telling him she felt the way he did—but she wasn’t running either. He supposed he could take some consolation in that.

Buffy started to relax against him, and Spike relaxed with her. He kissed the top of her head, breathing the scent of her hair in deeply. “Do you have to go?” he asked softly.

Buffy looked up sharply. “Do you want me to?”

“No. I want you here.”

She nuzzled against him, her eyes closing, and Spike took that to mean she was staying the night. “I want to be here.”

She didn’t respond to his declaration of love. She didn’t tell him she loved him, too. But she wanted to be there with him, and that was better than he thought he deserved.

*** *** ***

The first thing Buffy saw when she woke up the next morning was Spike looking down at her, a gentle smile on his face. She smiled back, stretching sinuously against him. Her muscles ached, but it was a pleasant sort of ache, reminding her of how she’d gotten like this.

“Good morning, baby,” Spike said, his voice husky, rumbling. Buffy trembled. More than good...and she wanted to show him…

She responded without words, just a mischievous grin as she pushed him over onto his back and slid down his body, her skin rubbing against his, teasingly, making Spike tremble.

Buffy settled between his legs, her hand grasping hold of his long, hard cock and pumping slowly, making Spike take in a sharp hiss of breath. Her tongue darted out, licking at the head just long enough to make Spike desperate for more. When she did the same thing again, Spike whimpered, then looked down at her, imploring with his eyes for her to take him into her mouth.

She winked, then engulfed him. He bellowed a curse and her name, the words running together, making Buffy smile around his shaft. She’d never loved doing this for a man like she loved doing it for him. His scent, his flavor, the way he felt sliding against her tongue—she reveled in it all, in the sensuality of the act.

Pleasing him, giving him something that could make him feel this good, made her feel good, too, made her feel warm inside. With Spike, it didn’t feel like servicing him. It felt like…sharing something with him.

His fingers tangled in her hair, trembling with the effort to keep from tugging too hard, to keep from forcing her down. He didn’t grab hold of her to control her. He touched her like he had to, like he needed to feel her everywhere.

Spike’s gasps turned into choked moans, his thighs tensing, shaking as Buffy dug into them with her nails. She wanted to push him over, wanted to taste all of him, wanted to give him what he so desperately needed. She wanted him to let go, wanted to watch him when he surrendered to release, to experience that here, like this.

Her hand stole from his thigh, slipping beneath his legs, her slim fingers wrapping around his sac, caressing him just the way she knew he liked. She hummed around him, taking him deeper, and felt his balls contract in her hand.

She felt it coming, readied herself, and swallowed him down as Spike released in her mouth, crying her name with such relief that Buffy felt tears at the corner of her eyes. She realized as his semen slid across her tongue, down her throat, that she loved the taste of him. It was a part of him…

He slid from her lips, spent. Buffy crawled back up his body, kissed his gasping mouth until he was kissing her back, cupping her head once again. He pulled back slightly, speaking against her lips. “You make me feel so good, pet. So bloody good.”

“I like making you feel good,” Buffy replied, dipping down, tasting his mouth again.

Spike ran his hands up the back of her thighs to rest on her bottom, cupping the firm globes. “You need me to take care of you, baby?”

Buffy pulled up and shook her head. “No, not now. Maybe later. I kinda have to pee.” Her stomach rumbled and she blushed. “And I guess I’m hungry, too.”

Spike chuckled, then lightly slapped her bottom. “Up with you, then. You go pee and I’ll make us breakfast.”

“You can cook?”

“I can manage eggs.”

“Mmm…eggs are good. I could go for some eggs.” She kissed him quickly before she jumped up off the bed. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Spike sat up, threw her a wink, and Buffy found herself giggling as she turned around and went towards the bathroom.

*** *** ***

Buffy walked out back into the bedroom when she was finished in the bathroom, frowning when she realized she wasn’t even sure where her clothes were. In all honesty, she didn’t really care, but the idea of eating naked just seemed…unsanitary.

She opened up Spike’s drawers and found his t-shirts. She pulled one out and slipped it over her head, the black cotton engulfing her small frame.

Spike was in the kitchen, cooking in nothing but his tight, black jeans. When he heard her come in, he tossed a glance over his shoulder, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took in the sight of her in only his shirt before he turned his attention back to the task at hand. “I hope you like scrambled eggs, because they’re all I can do. I always accidentally pop the center.”

Buffy chuckled as she took a seat at the counter. “Scrambled is fine.”

He pushed a yellow mass of eggs onto a plate, added a slice of toast that had just popped up from the toaster and set it in front of her. “I don’t have jelly, but I have butter. Or an acceptable substitute anyway.”

“I can deal with fake butter,” Buffy replied with a smirk, causing Spike to smile himself as he turned and went towards the fridge.

Buffy moved her eggs around on her plate with a fork, watching Spike as he dug around in the refrigerator. This was so unlike meals at the mansion with Liam, no chef, no fancy dining room. Just a kitchen bar and scrambled eggs.

She liked this better. It was familiar, safe. She didn’t feel out of place sitting here, didn’t feel like she was in over her head. And when Spike joined her with his own breakfast, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, a tender, comfortable gesture that made her feel more than any touch from her husband.

For the first time since the death of her mother, Buffy felt at home.

“I love you, too.”

Spike struggled to swallow the bite of eggs he’d just put in his mouth without choking before he turned and looked at her. “What?”

“Last night, you said you loved me, and I…” Buffy blushed, looking down at the plate and away from his wide blue eyes. “Unless you totally didn’t mean it and it just slipped out during sex, in which case you can ignore what I just said.”

“Ignore it? God, no, sweetheart, I’m not going to ignore it. Hey, look at me.” Spike took her chin in his hand and turned her face towards his. “I meant it. I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. Hell, you’re probably the only person I’ve ever loved. I just didn’t think you’d be saying it back. When you ignored it last night, I…” He trailed off, not wanting to say too much, to make himself more vulnerable than he already was.

Buffy reached up and took his hand off her face, but held on to it, stroking his skin with her thumb. “You surprised me last night. I wasn’t expecting it then, and I…” She stopped, sighing as she dropped her hand. “I shouldn’t love you, anymore than you should love me. This is wrong. This whole thing is just wrong.”

“It doesn’t feel wrong.”

“I know.” Buffy turned around on her stool, poking at what was left of her eggs with a fork. “But it’s more than how it feels. What can we ever really have, Spike? What does it even matter if we do love each other? We’re going on borrowed time now. Eventually, this is all going to come crashing down. You have to know that as well as I do. We can’t hide from Liam forever, and we can’t keep sneaking away to share stolen moments. And if we call it love, then the end is only going to be that much more painful.”

“Why does there have to be an end?”

“Because there does!” Buffy turned, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve said?”

“I have, but dammit, it doesn’t make any sense! Why can’t you just leave Liam?”

“I told you!”

“We can work around that! Fuck, Buffy, I’m not even sure a judge would uphold that agreement you made with him.”

“And what if it was upheld? Spike, I don’t have that kind of money…”

Spike took her hands, her fork clattering to the plate, and held them between the two of them. “Buffy, sweetheart, even if you did have to pay him back, we’d work it out. If you leave him, you won’t be alone. You’ll have me. I’ll make sure you don’t fall again.”

Buffy pulled her hands away and shook her head. “That isn’t enough. I can’t have that hanging over my head, Spike. I just can’t.”

“And living with a man who beats you is better?”

She pushed away from the bar, stumbling a bit as she moved away. “I can’t do this. I need to be getting back. He could call, and if I’m not there…”

Panic rose in Spike’s throat, a fear that if she left now, like this, she wouldn’t come back. “Kitten, no. Please, Buffy…stay. I won’t talk about it anymore, just…”

“I can’t. I need to find my clothes and go.”

“No.” Spike rushed over to her, stopping her with a hand on her arm, then taking hold of her face with both hands, shakily rubbing her cheeks and hair. “Stay. Please. Just a little longer. Don’t leave me like this, baby. Please don’t leave me like this.” He sounded desperate, too needy, but he was and he didn’t care. This was his fault; he’d spoken too soon, tried to rush things. The morning had been good, and he had to get her back to that place, had to make her see that things would be better if she’d just trust herself to him.

She’d see the truth eventually, and then there’d be no end to this. They’d be together, the way it was meant to be, and he’d make her happy. He just had to give her the time she needed to realize that.

“Stay with me. Let me love you, just for a while longer. Please…”

She crumbled, slumped against his chest with a sob before the dam broke and she was crying in his arms. He held her tightly, whispered softly in her hair as he stroked the long, golden strands, and made her a silent promise that he’d soon find a way to make it better.

*** *** ***

Yes, I am in fact alive. My writer’s block has been particularly nasty, but I haven’t given up yet!

Please review. Not to sound overly needy, but I could use some encouragement.

The first time Buffy told Liam she was shopping in order to actually buy herself a few hours with Spike, she knew she was taking a chance. She expected him to see right through the lie as soon as she made it. After all, he was an expert in them. However, he barely looked at her, only grunted an assent and something about her not maxing out his card.

Still, she’d been on guard when she’d returned home, paranoid that Liam would see the truth, would know she’d spent the afternoon making love to his son and not putting a dent in her allowance.

He hadn’t. Her paranoia seemed to be all for nothing when he’d said upon her return, “Back so soon? What, did Rodeo Drive run out of shoes?”

It had been easy. So easy in fact that the next time Spike had a day off, she’d done it again.

“You made it out again?” Spike asked her as he ushered her in and shut the door, a moment before he kissed her, desperately, thoroughly.

Buffy pulled away, already panting. “Yeah. Who would’ve thought Liam’s tendency to ignore me would come in handy for once.”

Spike shook his head. “Stupid bastard. If you were my wife, I’d never let you out of my sight.” He leered, his hands smoothing their way down her sides to land on her hips. “Hell, I’d never let you out of my bed.”

Buffy smiled, allowing herself a moment to indulge in that bittersweet fantasy. How better for her would things be if she were William’s wife instead of Liam’s?

It was never a thought she allowed herself to dwell on for long. She wasn’t William’s wife. She could never be William’s wife. She was Liam’s, bound irrevocably to a man she would never love again.

But for brief, blissful moments in time, she had her escape, and she wouldn’t dwell on what was any more than she would dwell on what would never be. She slipped her arms under his, wrapping them loosely around his waist. “Show me how it would be?”

Spike showed no hesitation as he lifted her off her feet, scooping her into his arms as if she were a romance heroine – and dammit if she didn’t swoon. Sometimes she forgot the shy, unassuming man she’d met that summer, forgot that this confident, passionate man was the naïve virgin she’d drunkenly seduced.

One look into his eyes, however, reminded her. They were the same, that warmth – that love – that she could admit now she’d never seen in Liam’s dark, soulless eyes was still there, still shining through. When he’d been only William, he’d looked at her as if he adored her, and becoming Spike hadn’t changed that at all.

It reminded her why she continued to take this risk, why she put herself and her lover in danger time and time again. Why she did something she knew could cause her to lose everything.

Because as long as she had him, she’d never truly lose anything at all.

That realization came to her as he laid her down on the bed, keeping a loose rein on his passion long enough to place her on the mattress gently, reverently. He kissed her face softly, a shower of loving, tender brushes of his sinfully-full lips against her skin.

God, maybe it wasn’t only a pipe dream…maybe it could happen.

Didn’t true love conquer all? She’d believed in fairytales once. Could she believe in them again?

Suddenly, Spike pulled up sharply, a look of concern on his features as he tasted salt on his tongue. “Why the tears, luv?”

Buffy hadn’t realized she was crying, but as he called her on it, she could feel the dampness on her cheeks. “I want it, Will.”

His expression shifted, from concern to confusion. “Want what, Buffy? Sex?”

She giggled, the sound of it watery. “No. I mean, yeah, as if that weren’t obvious, what with the whole being in bed with you and all, but…” She was rambling, she knew, and she took a deep breath, trying to stop it before it went any further. She was nervous, the rational part of her mind screaming at her not to say this, not to give him hope when nothing was definite. It was the same voice that had told her to stay away from William in the first place, the one that had chastised her for her desire for her shy, but oh-so-lickable step-son.

Not listening to it then had gotten her here, and while she knew here wasn’t the place she technically should be in, she didn’t care. She liked here. She felt safe here. So warm here…

“I want to get away from him. I want to be with you. Really be with you.”

He looked at her in absolute shock, his perfect mouth gaping now, his deep eyes wide, and Buffy found herself giggling again. She reached up, stroked his face, traced the sharp edge of his sculpted cheekbone. “Aren’t you going to say something, honey?”

“I…I don’t…” He pulled back, his expression growing dark, and Buffy felt something sinking inside of her as he moved to sit beside her, no longer touching her.

Had his pleas for her to leave Liam for him all been lies? Had he only said that to make her want him? Was this all a game?

Was he his father’s son after all?

For a minute, he said nothing, and Buffy scrambled to get off the bed and head towards the door, wondering how she could’ve made such a grave error. How could she have misread so much, believed so many lies?

You did it before, idiot.

That voice yet again, and boy was it smug.

“Buffy! Wait!” Spike yelled after her, jumping off the bed and going after her, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him. “Hey. Whatever you’re thinking to make you run, you’re wrong. You just surprised me, is all. Of course I want you away from him and with me. I just didn’t…” He paused, wanting to find the right words, not wanting to say anything that might spook her again. Buffy reminded him of a dog he’d known once, one that a friend had rescued after it had been found, abused and abandoned on the side of the road. Scared, skittish, but desperate to be loved, to be wanted.

He encircled her with his arms, gently prodding her to rest her head against his chest. “I just didn’t expect you to decide to do it. Not yet, anyway. Not this soon.” She looked up at him quizzically and he gave her that lopsided, nearly-boyish grin of his she loved so much. “Thought I’d have to prod you a little more.”

“So did I.” She slipped out of his arms and sighed. “I don’t even know if it’s something we can do. There’s so much to worry about. There’s the money, but beyond that… The way Liam is with me, so controlling and cruel. He’s told me before he won’t let me go, Spike. He’s told me he was weak to let his other wives get away with so much, to let them drag him through a divorce. He said he wouldn’t go through that hassle again, and when he said it… God, his voice, his eyes, they were so cold.”

William swallowed. Her fears weren’t unfounded, and he knew it. He remembered when his own mother had filed for divorce from Liam. His father had beaten her so severely she’d ended up with broken ribs.

He liked to think he could protect Buffy, the way he couldn’t his mother. He still believed he could, and he let her know as he held his head up, trying to look strong, sure. “I wouldn’t let him hurt you, Buffy. I’d never let him touch you again.”

Buffy shook her head, her fear of Liam outweighing her confidence in Spike. “You can’t be sure of that.” She started pacing, her head shaking again, her Voice of Reason slipping back to the fore. “I shouldn’t have said anything at all. It is just a pipe dream. If I leave, Liam will find a way to hurt me one way or another. I can’t… I… Fuck, I should just go home.”

Spike hated this. He hated the way she could be so warm, so with him one moment and running away the next. He hated how she could seemingly turn her need for him on and off, like she had control of some switch.

But he didn’t wish her to be any different. Any other way, she wouldn’t be Buffy, and he loved her, all of her.

Still, it made for some damn frustrating moments.

And acts of desperation.

“We’ll run away.”

At that, she stopped her retreat and looked at him sharply. “What?”

“We’ll run away,” Spike replied, putting more confidence in the words this time. “We’ll go to Mexico. We’ll disappear, and he won’t find us.”

Buffy blinked. “Mexico?”

“Yeah.” Spike moved towards her, careful not to make her run again, until he was close enough to take hold of her hands. “We could make it work, Buffy. I’d take care of everything, get you out of there.” He dropped one of her hands so he could touch her face, the smooth curve of her cheek calling to him. He wanted – needed – to touch her all the time, to memorize the feel of her skin under his fingertips. Whatever it took to make this permanent, make this real, he’d do it.

“I don’t know,” Buffy replied, though she didn’t move away from him, didn’t break his hold. “Do you really think we could make it work?”

“I do.” He smiled, and the aching he felt for her showed in it. “I’ll get you away from him, pet. I’ll make sure of it, no matter what. And when he’s out of your life forever, I’ll make sure you never have to suffer like that again.”

What he was offering her was more than Buffy had ever hoped for until she’d fallen in love with William. She’d been sure she was resigned to her fate, but then he had come in, swooped her up, and given her hope again. She looked into his eyes and remembered life before Liam, before she’d had to take off her clothes to keep a roof over her head, before her mother had died. He made her remember what it felt like to be safe.

She nodded, her eyes swelling with tears. “I want to, Will. I want to get away from this, from him. I…I want you to take me away.”

He smiled again, brighter this time, and the effect of it was infectious. “I will, baby.” The hand on her cheek trailed up into her hair, his fingers combing through the long, golden strands. “Just give me a week or so to get everything together, all right?”

“All right.”

Spike kissed her, sealing the deal, and relished the feel of Buffy melting into his arms as he wrapped them tightly around her. This hadn’t been his original plan, but maybe it was better. It would get her out sooner than if he simply worked until he had enough money to start paying Liam off, and it would get her permanently away from his father. He could take her away, to a place where no one knew them, and keep her safe. They could make a real life for themselves.

A fleeting image passed through his mind – golden-haired children at the edge of a beach.

Nothing else he wanted to say to her could be done in words. He picked her up and carried her back into the bedroom, determined to tell her in other ways.

*** *** ***

“Those things will kill you.”

It was what she always said every time he lit up a cigarette, be it post-coital or when he was just pacing with nervous energy, looking for something to calm him. It had already become automatic, as was the dirty look he shot her in response before he took a long drag with an expression on his face that made her jealous of the damn cigarette.

But her dirty little secret was that she loved to watch him smoke. In her mind, she knew he should stop. The thought of him dying slowly, painfully, from a cancer eating him up inside horrified her more than she could ever tell him. But watching him…

She didn’t even know why it was so sexy. Never before had she found smoking to be even the remotest turn on. It stank, and she’d ended things after one kiss with men before because she couldn’t stand the taste of it in their mouths.

Somehow, that had never been a problem with Spike. The taste of the cigarette just rolled with the natural flavors of his mouth, and it was rich, heady. Although, truth be told, she was just as desperate for his kiss when it was tainted with morning breath as she was right after he brushed his teeth, so she doubted anything could keep her from enjoying him. She was an addict, plain and simple.

But beyond the taste of him was how he looked when he smoked – especially after sex. Calm for once, sated. He visibly savored every drag, the way he savored everything – the way he savored her. He reveled in life, reveled in the sensual, in a purely hedonistic way she’d never experienced before. It was infectious.

And his hands… The way his long, masculine fingers looked curled around a cigarette was amazing. The way his muscles ticked slightly as he brought it to and from his mouth, as he flicked the ashes into the tray beside the bed… A shiver passed through her as she watched, her body warming for him again even though it hadn’t been more than five minutes since he’d last been inside her.

Yet the image of the clock on the bedside table was looming, and she knew she couldn’t stay much longer. She needed to dress and go back to her husband, go back to her life.

The only thing that kept her from crying was knowing that wouldn’t be her life much longer.

Soon, her life would be this, with Spike, and Buffy could hold on until then.

*** *** ***

So last Saturday I went to see this guy named James Marsters perform. Maybe you’ve heard of him… Anyway, let me tell you, that man does wonders for the muse. I’ve got an actual stockpile of chapters now, so I should be able to post fairly regularly, at least for the time being.

Please review!

Spike knew a handful of guys at work who were avid surfers, and a trip to Mexico was something they made as often as possible. He approached them casually, getting the information he could off of them without revealing why. As far as they knew, he was just planning a short trip for the sort of fun he couldn’t get in the States.

They didn’t question that, but somehow he knew their response would be different if they knew he was plotting to run away for good with his step-mother. Hell, he questioned the sanity of that when he really stopped to think about it, but it didn’t change his mind that it was the best course of action. All that mattered was getting Buffy away from Liam. All that mattered was keeping her safe.

He thought he should go down there on his own first, check things out. He had a day off coming up, he could drive down there, make a better plan, without anyone even noticing he was gone. If he had more time, he could plot this all out more, but he didn’t. Every day he spent planning was another day Buffy had to spend at the mercy of Liam.

So he’d work quickly, make it so they could escape in the next few days, a week at most.

Valentine’s Day was only about a week away. He smiled as he thought of that, wondering if they could escape by then. How romantic would it be to get to spend Valentine’s Day free of Liam, free of having to hide?

The grin stayed on his face as he made his way outside to the parking lot, his keys twirling on his finger. His shift was over, and he was supposed to meet Buffy today – another “shopping trip” for her.

He stopped short, however, when he looked up and saw Buffy there already, seated on the hood of his DeSoto in a red tube top and a black leather miniskirt that he wasn’t sure could even qualify as an actual article of clothing.

But the part that really made his mouth water were the leather boots hugging the curves of her calves. She smirked when she saw him, her legs crossed and dangling from the hood.

Spike stood completely still, his mouth hanging open. He hadn’t expected to see her here, and he certainly hadn’t expected to see her dressed like that. He forgot how to move, forgot how to speak, until he heard the voice of one of his co-workers behind him.

“Dude, who is that hot chick on your car?”

A wide grin split Spike’s face. “That’s my girl.”

He heard his co-worker make another comment, but he barely noticed it, his attention back fully on Buffy. His inability to move seemed to fade away as he strutted towards the car, his tongue curling over his teeth and his thumbs tucked into his belt. Her eyes locked with his and she leaned back, pushing her chest forward as she waited for him to reach her.

As soon as he did, his lips were on her, his tongue dueling with hers. Her legs went up and around his waist, her skirt riding up as she ground against him, mewling into his mouth.

Spike broke away, panting. “I thought we were meeting at my place, luv,” he said against her lips.

“I couldn’t wait that long,” she replied, her tongue darting out to trace the curve of his mouth. “I had to see you. I had to kiss you.”

As if to make her point, she kissed him again, and Spike wished he could push her down on the hood and take her then and there. “You’re gonna make it a little difficult for me to drive home, luv.”

Buffy smirked, hooked her legs together, and took hold of his tie, an image of what they’d done with it in the past flashing into his mind as she used it to pull him in closer. “That was the idea.”

He shook his head, even as he smirked back. “You’re an evil vixen. You do know that, don’t you?”

She ran her hand down his tie, smoothing it over. “I try.” She kissed him again, only a tease this time, and then pushed him away to slide off the hood, the thin heels of her boots clicking against the pavement. “I’ll meet you back at your place.”

Buffy’s hips swayed as she walked, and she turned as she reached her own car and blew kiss over her shoulder. Spike watched, dumbfounded again as she got into the car and shut the door.

Spike stared forward even as she drove off, images of what he was going to do to her as soon as he got home running through his mind. The sound of his co-worker clapping in the distance brought Spike out of his reverie, and he turned to give the man a small salute before he jumped into the DeSoto, determined to make it home in record time.

*** *** ***

Buffy got there before him, and Spike found her leaning against his door with a come-fuck-me look on her face – and he was more than happy to oblige.

He bounded up the stairs to her, one arm going around her waist to pull her in for a kiss even as he fished in his pocket for his keys and unlocked the door. It swung open and he pulled her in, kicking the door shut behind them.

They stumbled into the bedroom and Spike pushed her down across the bed, her leather-encased legs dangling over the edge. He pulled up, stood above her, breathing heavy with his dark eyes staring down at her. Buffy rose up on her elbows and looked up at him with a sultry smile. “So, now that you have me here, whatever are you going to do with me?”

Spike didn’t say a word. Instead, he dropped down to his knees, a low growl sounding in his throat as he pushed her skirt up around her waist and pulled her black lace thong down her legs, bringing it to his nose and breathing in deep before he tossed it over his shoulder.

Buffy shook her head. “You’re such a pervert.”

From his position between her legs, Spike smirked, his eyes twinkling. “Yeah, and you fucking love it, baby.” Then, before she could say anything else, he descended, attacking her pussy with his mouth. Buffy cried out, his tongue wasting no time in finding her clit, and her arms went out under her, making her flop down onto the bed.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Buffy moaned, writhing on the bed. “God, keep doing that, baby…”

Spike grinned against her, pulling up just long enough to say one thing before he went down again. “Keep talking to me, pet.”

Her hands gripped the comforter, her head tossed from side to side. “So good, Spike, so fucking good… Oh…oh!” His tongue swirled around her clit as he pushed two fingers inside her, rubbing her until she gasped and arched off the bed. He smirked against her, knowing he’d found what he’d been looking for.

“Spike! Oh, fuck, Spike!” Buffy arched again, her body about to explode, and she wanted him to know, wanted to keep talking like he’d asked her to. She trembled, tense and at the edge, and her fingers gripped the blanket tighter. “Spike, I’m…oh, baby, I’m gonna…” She couldn’t get the last word out as she exploded, her mouth now opening in a soundless cry, but she didn’t need to say anything else. The fluttering around his fingers, the tightening of her thighs around his head – they told Spike all he needed to know.

As she came down, he stood up, licking his lips as he looked down at her. “Lose everything but the boots.”

Buffy smirked as she sat up to comply, even as her body still trembled from the strength of her orgasm. She’d known he’d like these boots…

As Buffy disrobed, Spike undid his tie, dropping it to the ground before he unbuttoned his shirt and undid his pants. Buffy laid back down and looked up at him, her mouth growing dry at the sight of him, open and rumpled.

“Oh dear god, just fuck me now.”

Spike threw his head back and laughed, but Buffy wrapped her booted leg around his calf and drew him forward. “I mean it. Fuck—now.”

He looked down at her, still chuckling. “Bossy, bossy.”

“Horny,” Buffy corrected, even as her mouth twitched up.

Spike reached down and twisted her clit, making her moan and thrust against him. “I just made you come, baby,” he teased, though his voice was deep and husky. “Wasn’t that enough for you?”

She shook her head against the mattress. “Never enough, William. Never.”

At her declaration, his expression grew serious and their eyes locked. “I love you. Always.”

Buffy reached out for him. “Always.”

Spike leaned forward, into her arms, and pressed his body against hers, chest to chest. Her legs wrapped around him and he nuzzled her neck, up to her earlobe, where he nipped at her. “Bring me inside, baby. Guide me home.”

Her hand stole between them, gripping his heavy, aching erection, her thumb sliding over the dripping slit. She leaned forward, pressed her mouth against his ear. “Have I ever told you how much I love your cock? The way it feels inside me…the way it tastes. God, you’re beautiful. Every inch of you.”

Spike trembled at her words, fighting the urge to come right there in her hand. “Inside, pet,” he moaned, thrusting up. “I need to be inside.”

Buffy licked the outside of his ear, making another tremble pass through him before she gave into what they both wanted and guided him into her waiting body.

Immediately, Spike began to move, his head dropping down to her neck as he panted heavily. Her legs moved up and down his body, pushing his pants down further off his hips. This was perfect, everything she needed.

Spike shook, his stamina already slipping. Her teasing, her words, and god those fucking boots had pushed him dangerously close to the edge. “Buffy…I need you to come, sweetheart,” he murmured against her ear.

“You gotta make me.”

Her words, her breath, were hot against his ear, and Spike shook. “Hold on, kitten.”

She brought her arms up, under the back of his shirt, her hands gripping his bare shoulders under the cotton. Spike pulled up, braced himself on his arms, and started moving harder, the bed groaning beneath them. Buffy grunted with every thrust, her nails beginning to dig into his skin.

“Is this what you wanted?”

Buffy moaned, her body bucking. “It’s what I needed.”

“Oh, fuck…me, too, pet. Me, too.”

Spike drove in harder, faster, holding on, holding on until… Buffy shook around him, screamed his name, and he knew he could let go, knew he could follow her over.

His body jerked with aftershocks and his arms went out on him, making him collapse on top of her. Buffy grunted but accepted his weight, her hands slipping down his back, massaging his taut skin as her legs fell apart, limp.

For a while, they lay there, breathing harshly. “Can I take the boots off now?” Buffy asked finally.

Spike laughed, the rumble of the sound reverberating through Buffy’s body. “Only if you promise to wear them again.”

She laughed back. “I promise.”

Spike pulled off of her then and finished removing his clothes while Buffy sat up to take off the boots. He moved to the head of the bed and got his cigarettes off the nightstand, and Buffy climbed up to join him.

He lit his cigarette, smiling around it as Buffy cuddled against his side. He flicked his lighter shut and tossed it back on the nightstand before putting one arm around her.

“I’ve got a couple days off coming up. I was thinking I’d go into Mexico, scout things out.”

Buffy nodded. “When do you think we can get out of here?”

“If everything goes the way I’m hoping, the fourteenth.”

“Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah.” Spike looked at her, his eyebrow raised. “Why. You got other plans?”

“No,” Buffy replied, chuckling. “It sounds good. Perfect.”

Spike leaned in, kissed her. “Then that’s when we’ll run.”

Buffy smiled, moved closer. It wouldn’t be long now until all the fear, all the worrying would be over, until she and Spike could have their life together.

All she had to do was wait until Valentine’s Day.

*** *** ***

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Tomorrow, Spike was going to Mexico. His stomach was in knots, the nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him all the things that could go wrong; it refused to be quiet.

It was late, the outside world quiet for once, giving him no respite from his own thoughts. A cigarette dangled from his fingers over the ashtray, but he’d stopped smoking it, letting it burn to ash instead.

This had to go off without a hitch. Buffy was depending on him – needed him – and nothing terrified him more than the idea of letting her down. He had to save her, had to be the hero she’d one thought she’d been getting in his father.

Spike jumped when he heard a knock at his door, and he frowned, wondering who in the world would be here at this hour. He snuffed out his cigarette and made his way to answer, not bothering to put on a shirt as he sauntered over in nothing but his jeans.

A quick look through the peephole had Spike throwing the door open, his puzzlement turning to concern. “Buffy? Why are you here? Are you okay? Did something…”

Buffy launched herself into Spike’s arms, silencing his barrage of questions with a kiss. “Everything’s fine, honey,” she said, sliding inside the apartment and kicking the door shut behind her. “Liam’s asleep. I snuck out.”

William looked at her, wide-eyed. “Buffy, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I don’t care,” Buffy replied as she ran her hands down his chest. “I needed to see you.” She pulled back, gave him a wink. “Besides, I wanted to give you an early Valentine’s Day present.”

“Pet, having you really be mine is already going to be the best Valentine’s Day present possible,” Spike replied, his knuckles brushing softly against his cheek.

She gave him the grin he used to see before, during the summer, when he’d just been William – the one that always told him she was up to no good. “Trust me, baby, you’re gonna love this one, too.”

With that, she dropped the coat she’d been wearing, letting it slide off her arms and to the ground. Spike gaped, all the blood in his body seeming to rush south. She was wearing a black leather bra that tied in the middle and a matching skirt that barely covered the tops of her thighs, allowing him to see a hint of the lace underneath. His eyes ran down the length of her black thigh-highs to end at the fuck-me pumps on her feet.

Bloody fucking hell.

He tried to ask her what she was doing, though all he could manage to do was make a very un-masculine squeak. She seemed to understand, however, and held up a CD he hadn’t realized until that moment was in her hand.

“I’m going to dance for you.”

He blinked, her words serving to pull him out of his stupor. The idea had definite merit, but he knew how she’d felt about dancing in the past. It had made her feel bad, dirty, and he didn’t want to put her through that again. “Buffy, pet, you don’t have to do this. I never expected you to.”

She smiled at him again, but it was different this time. It was soft, warm, and it made him feel loved. “I know, Will. That’s why I’m doing it. I want to do this for someone I care about for once. I want to do this when it’s not about pleasing some stranger, but about sharing something with the man I love. So can I do that? Can I share this with you?”

Well, she had him well and convinced. He nodded dumbly, and let her lead him by the hand to the couch. “Stay put.” She started to go, then turned back and wagged her finger at him. “And no touching.”

Again, he nodded, willing to go along, even as his cock screamed at him that no touching was very, very bad.

She walked over to his CD player, her leather-encased ass shaking, making his mouth water. She popped in the CD, and as the first notes of Def Leopard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” sounded in the living room, Spike couldn’t help but smirk at her song choice.

Buffy looked over her shoulder and winked.

Yet his mood quickly shifted when she began to move, and Spike saw how damn good she’d been at her job. He reflected for a moment that it was no wonder his father had been drawn to her, though he pushed that thought away as quickly as it came, not wanting to dwell on the notion that this was how Liam had first seen Buffy. He didn’t like to think about his father looking or touching the woman he considered his own. Liam didn’t deserve her, and even if Spike knew he didn’t either, at least he treasured the gift she was.

So he focused on the here and now, on the way she moved. Her every step, every shake was full of sex. Her eyes stayed trained on him, dark with lust, and he was surprised with his own restraint. He stayed on the couch even as his dick strained in his jeans and his hands ached to touch her.

Her body glistened and her hair was fucking glorious. Bouncing and shimmering, like something from a shampoo commercial. An X-rated shampoo commercial anyway…

She moved closer, her tongue darting out to trace her blood-red lips, and Spike gripped the edge of the couch, white knuckled. He wanted to touch her, taste her, but he fought the urge, forced himself to do what she’d told him to do. If he got up, if he tackled her down to the floor like he wanted to, this would be over, and this was too good to be over so soon.

Buffy bent over at the waist, her legs spread, then came up slowly, giving him a perfect view of the tops of her breasts, pushed up high by the brilliant piece of leather engineering she was wearing.

But not wearing for long… She met his eyes, winked, and then brought her fingers to the ribbon in between her breasts, never breaking eye contact as she untied it, bearing her breasts to his hungry gaze. Spike gripped the edge of the couch even harder as she begin to shake her tits, taunting him, making him want her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

His jeans were painfully tight, the zipper biting into his cock, but he still didn’t move. This was torture, but it was the best damn torture he’d ever experienced.

She strode over to him, her expression predatory, and Spike swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She turned, sat in his lap, rubbed her leather-covered ass against his straining erection as she reached behind her to run her fingers through his hair.

Spike couldn’t help himself as his hand slid to her thigh, stroking her hot skin. He started to creep his fingers towards her thong, but then Buffy’s hand came down, slapping him hard on the back of his hand.

She leaned back, spoke against his ear. “No touching.”

He didn’t mean to whimper, but dammit, he did anyway, and Buffy smirked. God, she was an evil, evil bint, and Spike fully planned to get some of his own back later.

But now, she was turning around, straddling him with her hands on his shoulders as she shook her breasts in his face, making his mouth water.

Right before his control snapped and he took a tit in his mouth, Buffy was up again, writhing in front of him, but out of the reach of his hands.

She bent down, her firm ass towards him as she spread her legs again and touched the ground, her skirt and her thong both riding high. Then, she pulled herself up slowly, shaking that glorious hair of hers as she did, and threw a wink over her shoulder before sliding the skirt down her stocking-covered legs and tossing it to the side.

It was at that moment, Spike lost his control.

He leapt off the couch with a growl and tackled her, pulling his cock out of his jeans and her thong away from her body before Buffy could even register what was happening.

Not that she’d even think of complaining…

Spike wrapped his hands around her waist, her knees rubbing against the floor as he slammed her into him over and over again, low, steady growls sounding deep in his chest. He was like an animal, wildly passionate and without control, and it thrilled her to know she could make him this way.

She’d known. From the first time she’d met him, she’d known this was in him, known he was capable of this. She’d seen glimpses of it, seen him lose control with her, but this, this was a new level.

He was lost completely, unaware of anything but the warmth of her body, the tightness of her pussy, and she panted his name over and over again, loving every second of what he was doing to her. This is what she’d always wanted from him. Total abandon, total surrender to the sensual. She’d wanted all of him, wanted to see who he really was, experience what he tried to suppress.

His hands were tight on her hips, and she knew they’d leave bruises, but she didn’t care. Liam wouldn’t see them. She’d vowed when they’d made the decision to run that her husband would never touch her again. Her body was for Spike and Spike alone, and as he moved over her, inside her, she felt as if he were claiming her as such, marking her inside and out.

The orgasm that shook her wasn’t a slow build. It hit her hard and fast, ripping a scream from her, the sound of it nearly primal. She spasmed around him, her arms slipping, and Spike hauled her up, her back to his chest, before clamping his teeth around her shoulder and biting down. He growled into her skin as he came, holding her down.

For long moments afterwards, he held her, his lips against her shoulder as he breathed heavily into her skin.

Finally, he spoke, his voice shaky, but sending a shiver down her spine just the same.

“By the way, pet, love the shoes.”

*** *** ***

All day, Buffy was nervous. She’d managed to get home before Liam got up for work, and she didn’t think he’d ever noticed she was gone. The man could sleep through an earthquake, which had come in handy.

But it wasn’t thoughts of Liam that formed the tight ball of nerves in her stomach. He’d already called to say he’d be working late, and she hoped she wouldn’t see much of him at all when he finally did come home. If anything, her husband had been fairly calm the past couple weeks, barely speaking to her, never mind hitting her. And soon, it would all be over.

No, Liam wasn’t worrying her. It was Spike. He’d gone to Mexico that morning, and she couldn’t help but think of all the things that could go wrong. She didn’t know what she’d do if something happened and he never came back. That would be it for her, the thing that finally broke her past the point of any return.

She’d lost everything. She couldn’t lose William.

It was late in the evening when she heard the door open, heard Liam trudge up the stairs. She was sitting in the bed, already in her nightgown, trying to read a book to help her sleep, though she knew that wasn’t going to be a possibility. Not with William gone, not when she couldn’t know he was all right.

The door to Liam’s office shut, and Buffy let out a breath, her eyes going back to her book. The words made no sense to her as she stared at them, her mind running scenario after scenario, none of them good.

The door opened again, and she heard Liam’s voice boom in the hallway.

“Buffy! Get your ass in here now!”

She sat up straight, startled. Liam never wanted to talk to her, not this late. Any business he had with her at this time of night tended to remain in the bedroom.

“I said now, Buffy!”

Buffy got out of bed, her legs shaking as she got her robe and put it around her. This was bad. She knew it was bad, could feel the dread she’d been battling all day rising, becoming nearly overwhelming.

All she could do was hope whatever it was, it would be over quickly, and Spike would come back and take her away. She could endure one more time if it were truly only one more time.

Buffy padded down to his office, opening the door slowly and taking in the sight of Liam looming over his desk, the expression on his face darker than any one she’d ever seen him wear before.

“Come here.”

His words were cold and they made her shiver. Still, she approached his desk, wanting – needing – to be strong. One more time…

Then, he began to throw pictures onto the desk, grainy black and white photos that made her world crash down around her. Her heart beat faster and her breath caught.

She looked up, unable to hide her fear, and Liam’s dark eyes bore into her as he spoke.

“Mind telling me what you think you’re doing fucking my son?”

*** *** ***

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“Mind telling me what you think you’re doing fucking my son?”

Buffy stared up at him, unable to find words. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. They were supposed to be escaping soon, finding freedom. Liam wasn’t supposed to find out, not now.

“Don’t even lie to me about it, bitch. I know you’re doing it. You’ve probably been fucking him since this summer, right under my nose, you worthless little whore.”

“Liam, please, I…”

Liam came around from behind the desk and grabbed her arm before backhanding her hard across the face. “Shut your lying whore mouth! You fucked my son, Buffy. My son.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known better than to marry such a piece of trash.” His hand tightened around her arm, causing Buffy to hiss in pain. “You know, I knew you were cheating on me. All those ‘shopping’ trips and not a single bag or a charge to your credit card? Did you think I was an idiot? Fuck, Buffy that’s just insulting. But then to find out you’re spreading your legs for my son? I should beat you so hard no man ever wants to look at your face again.”

Buffy struggled to break Liam’s grip on her arm. She could taste blood on her lip and knew this was only the beginning. “Let me go. Please. I’m sorry, Liam. Just let me go.”

“You’re sorry.” Liam laughed darkly. “You’re not sorry, bitch, but you’re going to be.” He tossed her down to the ground, making her back hit the wood floor hard before he was over her, holding her down as he opened her robe and shoved up the bottom of her nightgown, ripping the silk.

“Get off me!” Buffy yelled, struggling under him her legs scissoring as she tried to break free of his bulk.

“I don’t think so. Your trashy, cheap cunt is mine, bitch. I paid for you. I bought you. You’re not for him.”

Even with everything Liam had done to her, this would be it. This would be the thing that would push her over the edge, the thing she wouldn’t be able to take. She fought harder, struggling with everything she had. She wouldn’t simply lie there and take this…

“Be still!” Liam bellowed, his hand going around her neck. She sputtered, her eyes bulging, and she thought in a panic as she struggled to breathe that he may not stop. She pushed at him with her hands, looking at his face as a cruel smile spread across it.

“Maybe it would be better if you were just dead. Then I’d know exactly where your whoring pussy was.”

Then, with a dark laugh, he let go of her neck, and Buffy gasped for air, her lungs burning.

“That’s too quick though, baby. I feel like making you hurt tonight. You owe me a pound of flesh after what you did to me.”

One hand pushed at her chest to hold her down as the other went to his belt buckle. He opened his slacks and pulled out his cock. His eyes met hers as he stroked it, wanting her to watch, wanting her to know exactly what he was about to do to her.

His eyes closed for just a moment, but it was what Buffy needed. With more strength than she knew she possessed, she wrenched her leg free and kicked up, kneeing him in the groin. Liam howled, his eyes widening, and Buffy rolled out from beneath him.

While he struggled to get to his feet with his trousers undone and his cock aching, Buffy ran to the desk and pulled open the top drawer on the right-hand side. She knew what was usually there, and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw it still was.

Liam stopped short as Buffy took the revolver out and pointed it towards him. “You stay the hell away from me, you fucking bastard!” she yelled, hysteria in her words.

“Buffy, baby, come on, put the gun down,” Liam said, fixing his pants with one hand as he held up his other one. “I was just angry, Buffy. I didn’t really mean any of it. You know I’d never hurt you like that. Come on. Put down the gun, and we’ll go to bed and talk in the morning.”

Buffy shook her head, hot tears stinging her eyes. “No. No. All you ever do is hurt me, Liam. I’m not going to let you do it anymore.”

“Buffy, put the damn gun down.”

Her hands trembled around the weapon as her thoughts whirled around in her head, moving too quickly. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted William...

Suddenly, Liam launched himself at her, and Buffy screamed before she ran out from behind the desk, towards the door. She heard Liam shift, coming for her again, and she closed her eyes and pulled the trigger before she could think, three shots ringing out in the office.

The room grew still, quiet again, and Buffy opened her eyes, her face growing pale as she realized what she’d done. She didn’t see Liam, but she didn’t hear him either, and he wasn’t coming for her. That must’ve meant she’d…

A blind panic slamming into her, Buffy ran from the office, down the stairs, out of the mansion. She needed to get out of there; she needed to find William. He’d help her. He’d protect her.

She needed William.

*** *** ***

Spike pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex fighting to stay awake. It had been a long day, but it had also been productive, and despite his exhaustion, he was feeling good about things. It had been easier to get across the border than he’d expected, and he’d found a place where he and Buffy could lay low for a while until they figured out the next step.

For the first time since they’d started this thing, he felt some real hope. This was doable; it could work.

Then, he got to his front door, and all of that came tumbling down.

Buffy was sitting on the ground, trembling from the cold. She was wearing nothing but a silk robe and nightgown, and she was sporting several fresh bruises.

“Buffy? Pet, what happened? Are you all right?”

She said nothing, only reached into her robe and pulled out a gun. She dropped it in her lap, her eyes wide, scared.

“Holy fuck… Buffy, what did you do?”

“I…I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.

Spike looked around, realizing they were in a public place. He picked the gun up, then helped her to her feet, letting her lean on him as he brought her into his apartment, locking the door behind them.

He took her to the couch, dropping the gun on the side table. “Tell me what happened, luv,” he implored as he sat beside her, doing his best to keep his tone even as not to spook her any further. “Did you kill him?”

“I don’t know.”

She was still shaking, and in the light of the apartment, Spike could see how bad her bruises were and that her clothes were in disarray. He didn’t even want to think about what that could mean… “Did you shoot him?”

“I…I think so. I fired the gun, and then he was on the floor, and…” Buffy slumped forward, sobbing against William’s chest.

He pulled her into his lap and held her, rocking her back and forth as he did his best to soothe her. He wanted to make it better for her, but how could he? How could he ever possibly hope to fix this?

“He knew about us,” Buffy said finally. “I thought he was at work, but he came home late, around ten, and…he…he had pictures. Surveillance photos. I don’t know where he got them, but he had them, and, oh god…” She stopped, her body convulsing for a moment, and Spike was afraid she was going to retch before she stopped and spoke again. “He tried to rape me. And…and I think he wanted to kill me.”

She pulled up, her eyes seeming to glass over. “I just fired. I didn’t look. I just pulled the trigger three times. He was coming for me, and I pulled the trigger three times.”

Spike ran a trembling hand down her hair. “But you didn’t see if they hit him?”

“No, but he was down, and he was quiet, and…” Buffy broke off with a sob. “If he’s dead, I killed him, and I’ll go to jail. I don’t want to go to jail, Will. Not because of him.”

“You won’t. We’re going to Mexico, remember? We’ll still run, Buffy.”

“But they’ll look for me now,” Buffy replied, her body starting to shake harder. “Spike, they’ll give Border Patrol my picture, and they’ll be looking for me, and I’ll never get over. I…” She crumbled, crying against him. “I’ve ruined everything for us.”

“No, it’ll still be all right,” Spike insisted, not willing to believe he was going to lose his chance with Buffy. They were in love, and they would get their happy ending. He had to believe that. “You don’t even know if you shot him, pet. He could’ve just been staying down because he was afraid you’d shoot again.”

Buffy looked up, her shiny eyes possessing a sliver of hope. “Do you think so?”

“It’s possible,” Spike replied. “And if you weren’t even looking where you were shooting, they there’s a very good chance you didn’t hit him. Did you see blood?”

Buffy shook her head. “No.”

“Then we don’t know what happened,” Spike told her, trying to make his voice soothing as he smoothed his hands over her hair. “Let’s just wait until the morning and suss all this out then. There’s a good chance he’s not dead, and we can just leave like we planned.”

“Is there?”

“Yeah, baby, there is.” Spike stood with her, cradling her in his arms as he took her towards the bedroom. “We’re going to go to sleep now, okay? You’re exhausted, mentally and physically, and you can’t think straight like that. We’ll plan our next move in the morning.”

She didn’t protest when he put her in the bed and climbed in beside her, but instead curled up at his side and quickly fell asleep, the events of the night catching up with her, her mind and body not able to go any further. She was with William now. He’d take care of her…

Spike, however, remained wide awake. He didn’t feel as certain as he told Buffy he was, and he didn’t believe himself when he told her Liam probably wasn’t dead. And if he was dead, well, Spike had to come up with a plan and fast.

She was right about Border Patrol. They could switch tactics and head to Canada instead, but that would keep them in the States for longer, plus they’d have to find a place to move on from there.

The only thing he knew for sure was she didn’t deserve prison. As he looked down at the angry bruise marring her beautiful face, Spike knew that much was true. If she had shot Liam, then he deserved to die for what he’d done to her that night. Hell, he deserved worse than death.

Spike was still awake when the sun rose, his mind still racing as he tried to decide how they were going to get out of this. Buffy needed him to rescue her now more than ever, and he couldn’t let her down.

It was a little after eight a.m. when his cell phone rang, and Spike carefully slipped away from Buffy, grateful when she didn’t move. He took the phone into the living room, closing the bedroom door behind him, and grimaced when he saw his mother’s name on the caller ID.

“Hello.”

Darla didn’t waste her time with preamble. “William, your father was shot last night. He’d dead.”

Any hope William had for anything was gone in that instant. He didn’t respond to his mother, only closed the cell phone and let it fall to the ground. It rang again a moment later, but he didn’t answer it this time.

His eyes went to the gun, still on the side table, and he knew what he had to do. He walked mechanically over to it and wiped it down with the end of his t-shirt before putting his own hand on the trigger, then touching the gun everywhere until he was sure his prints remained. Then, he grabbed a pad of paper and wrote a quick note, knowing he had to tell her where he was and hoping she would heed his plea to stay quiet, to let him do this.

He had to do this. He had to do this for her.

With an ache of his heart, he looked towards the closed bedroom door, but he refused to open it. He couldn’t look at her. If he looked at her, if he saw what he was saying good-bye to, then he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.

But he knew it was the best plan. If they ran, there was no guarantee they’d make it, and even if they did, she’d be running forever. She didn’t deserve that life, especially not with all she’d been through. If he took the blame, if he let it all fall on him and kept her away from it, then perhaps she’d have a chance at something someday. Maybe she’d even find someone worthy of loving her.

Spike walked out of the apartment without looking back, the gun still in his hand.

*** *** ***

I actually finished this story in draft form last night, so the chapters will come more quickly now. Which I’m sure you’re all grateful for with cliffhanger endings like these…

Please review.

She woke wishing it had all been a dream but knowing it wasn’t. Her body ached, her head throbbed, and she knew the images flashing through her mind were real.

Buffy sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. The bed was empty, Spike’s side cold. “Spike?” She waited for a moment and got no answer. “Spike?”

“William!”

She knew he could’ve just gone out for coffee or a breath of fresh air, but something inside of her was saying differently. Buffy knew, somehow, that things were bad, worse than they’d been the night before even.

She got out of the bed, calling out William’s name as she rushed out into the living room. The apartment was empty, no trace of Spike save for a note on the bar. Buffy picked it up, but had to read over it several times before the words finally made sense.

When they did, she dropped the note to the ground and ran into the bathroom, where she retched up the meager contents of her stomach. Finally, when there was nothing left in her, Buffy sunk to the bathroom floor and sobbed.

*** *** ***

“Are you sure you don’t want to speak to a lawyer?”

Spike looked up at the blonde female cop sitting across from him. “Yes, I’ve said that like a hundred times already. Just start the tape or whatever, and let me confess.”

Detective Kate Lockley pushed record on the tape player and slid it towards Spike. “Please state your name.”

“William Angelus.”

“What can you tell me about the murder of Liam Angelus?”

“I did it.”

“Is this confession being made truthfully and of your own free will?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me what occurred between you and Liam Angelus on the night of February 13th?”

“Yeah. Liam, my father, he called me over. Said he wanted to talk to me. I’ve, um… I’ve been having an affair with his wife. Apparently he’d found out, had some surveillance photos taken. I don’t know how he got them, but he showed them to me, and things got heated. We were fighting, and I knew he kept a gun in his desk drawer, so I pulled it out. He came after me, and I fired the gun three times.”

“And when did this take place?”

“Around ten o’clock.”

“Where was Mrs. Angelus?”

Spike looked up, met Detective Lockley in the eye. “Buffy wasn’t there. She was at my place. We’d been planning to run off together, and she was waiting at my apartment for me to get home.”

“Is she still there now?”

“As far as I know. I didn’t wake her up, and I didn’t tell her what happened last night.” Spike looked down again, at his hands. “Liam beat her. She’s been a bloody wreck, and all I wanted was to keep her safe.”

“Where were you yesterday before you went to your father’s?”

Again, Spike looked up. “Look, I told you I did it. I sodding shot my father, all right? What more do you need from me?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I went to Mexico. Buffy and I were going to head out there today, and I was setting things up.”

“And Liam called after you got back?”

“Yes.”

“If you were planning on running away with Mrs. Angelus, then why did you go to your father’s when he called?”

Spike hadn’t been expecting this. He’d confessed, wasn’t that enough? Why did the woman want so many bloody details? He’d pled guilty and they could throw the sodding book at him if they wanted to. “Look, the man was a fucking bastard, all right? He called, and I don’t know, I guess I wanted a chance to confront him.”

“And did you plan on killing him?”

“No.” He met her eyes again. “But I’m not mourning the man either.” Spike sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I told you what happened. I shot my father. Are we done here?”

“Yeah, we’re done,” Kate replied before shutting off the tape. She walked out of the interrogation room, meeting a tall, bald black man in a suit behind the two-way mirror. “So what do you think, Charles? An open and shut case for the DA’s office?”

Assistant District Attorney Charles Gunn frowned as he looked through the mirror at Spike. “I don’t know. Something doesn’t seem right in all of this.”

“Oh, come on. We’ve got the weapon, we’ve got a confession, we’ve got motive.”

“He’s covering for the wife.”

Kate blinked and looked Gunn over. “How do you figure?”

“Because he is. His story’s good, but if he talked to her, she could fill him in on the details. But he’s too jumpy, too defensive on certain parts of it. He can’t deny he was in Mexico yesterday, if that’s where he was, because we could very well have proof of him crossing the border, so he’s got to fit that in somewhere. But it doesn’t really fit. And he got extra defensive when you asked about the wife. She’s got motive and she had access to the weapon.”

Gunn paused for a moment and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s nineteen, Detective. If he’s fallen for this woman…”

“Then sacrificing himself for her is going to look damn romantic.”

“Exactly.”

“The gun is with the crime scene investigation team now. They should have some answers for us soon – at the very least tell us something about prints.”

Gunn nodded. “We’ll have more to go on then. In the meantime, I need to see to it he doesn’t make bail. Maybe if the little rich boy sits in jail for a while, he’ll find throwing his life away for a woman less romantic.”

“Look, if you really think he’s not our guy, I can go in there and grill him some more,” Kate replied, jerking her thumb towards the interrogation room.

“No, not now. Let him stew for a bit. We’ll get the evidence, and I’ll build my case on that.”

“Then I’ll send him back to his cell.”

“And I’m going to go talk to the scientists, see what they’ve managed to dig up so far.”

Game plan in place, Gunn and Kate went their separate ways.

*** *** ***

Buffy didn’t know how much time had passed since she’d woken up. She’d left the bathroom only to wander the apartment in a daze before collapsing again in the corner of the bedroom.

She was still there. She’d long since run out of tears, though the aching emptiness inside her hadn’t subsided. William was all she’d had left, all that had any meaning to her. She’d killed Liam, but the life she’d really ended was William’s.

The thought of him in prison was too much for her to bear. He didn’t deserve to suffer for any reason, but especially not for her. She’d done nothing to earn this from him, nothing to merit such a sacrifice.

The urge to turn herself in and undo what Spike had done was strong, but she didn’t go. One line from his letter stayed in her mind, keeping her in place.

The only thing worse than losing my freedom would be living on the outside and knowing you’d lost yours.

Buffy needed to see the note again, to have Spike’s own words tell her she was doing what he wanted her to do. She stood on shaky legs, stumbled into the kitchen where she collapsed on the floor, scrambling until she had the note in her hands again. His words hadn’t changed. He pleaded with her to let him do this, to let him take the fall to protect her. He told her she didn’t deserve to lose everything over a man like Liam.

But he did? And this wasn’t losing everything? He said he couldn’t stand the thought of her in prison, but would she be able to survive with him in there, paying the price of her crime?

A hard, heavy knock sounded at the door, and Buffy struggled to get up, shoving the note into the pocket of her robe as she did.

“Open up. It’s the police.”

Buffy moved towards the door, trying to hurry, tripping until she was there, her shaking hand on the knob.

As soon as the door was open, someone thrust a piece of paper at Buffy, announcing she had a warrant. The sun was glaring, blinding her, and Buffy stumbled backwards as people barged into the apartment.

Detective Lockley turned and got her first look at the Angelus widow. Immediately, she realized her assumptions had been wrong on this one. While she still wasn’t sure if the ADA’s theory about the son covering for his illicit girlfriend was correct, she could see now that there was more than met the eye. She’d thought it was another case of the privileged thinking they could get away with anything. Her first notion had been that the son had been eliminating the competition, desire for his father’s young, attractive wife driving him to kill. But whatever had happened, in her mind Kate had pictured someone much more sinister, a black widow who would either manipulate a young man into killing his father or do it herself and have him take the fall.

But not this. Not this broken, bruised girl in front of her. Her robe was askew, her nightgown torn. Beneath tear stains were bruises, and on her neck were marks Kate knew well enough to recognize anywhere.

Someone had choked her. Someone with larger, thicker hands than the man they currently had in lock up.

And she was so young… No more than a child, really.

Kate had planned to barge in and grill her, to make the woman spill whatever she knew. If she wasn’t the one who really pulled the trigger, then she was at least an accomplice. Even now, after seeing what she looked like, Kate was confident of that much.

But she couldn’t. The girl was already too shattered, and she knew pushing her hard now would most likely lead to a breakdown more than anything else. Kate had never considered herself a soft-hearted cop – and she knew her fellow officers wouldn’t either – but she couldn’t do this. Even on a practical level, she wasn’t sure she could get anything that would be admissible in court with the girl’s mental state.

They searched the house, looking for evidence and coming up mostly empty. Kate had been hoping to find something with blood on it, clothes stained with Liam’s blood that would tell her whether it was the son or the widow truly on the other end of that gun.

They found none. Not a drop of blood in the house, and she would wager that the clothes the girl had on now were the same she’d worn the night before.

With no confession and no new evidence, Detective Lockley left the apartment.

Buffy collapsed again.

*** *** ***

A large, stern-faced guard watched Spike as he picked up the phone and dialed the number. He wished it was Buffy he was calling now, wished he could just hear her voice, tell her he was all right and not to worry, but he knew he couldn’t call her. These calls could very well be monitored, and he didn’t want to run the risk of Buffy saying something that would blow this all.

Instead, he called the one person he knew he could trust now. He hadn’t known her long, and had met her through Drusilla of all people, but he knew she was one of the few truly good people in the world.

It was a lot to dump on her now, but he knew Buffy would need someone, a friend.

“Hello?”

“Hey, luv.”

“William? Did they just say you’re calling from jail? What happened? Are you okay? Do I need to bail you out?”

Despite everything, Spike found himself smirking. “No, Tara. I’m being denied bail anyway. Something about being a flight risk.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, apparently you should never mention to the cops you were recently planning an escape to Mexico if you want bail. Look, here’s the deal: I killed my father. It’s a whole long story. But I need you to do something for me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Tara, I don’t have long on this phone, pet, so you need to listen to me. I’ve got a girl, over at my new apartment, and she’s in bad, bad shape. I need you to go see to her for me, all right? I’m worried about her, worried she could hurt herself, and I can’t let that happen.”

For a moment, the other end of the line was silent, then Tara spoke softly, her tone more upset than Spike’s. “William, I’m worried about you. I need to know what’s going on.”

“I can’t really get into it. But I’ll be fine as long as she is. I hate to even ask you to do this, but you’re the only one I know who’s capable of it. Can you do it?”

“Of course I can. I’ll head over there now. God…you…you killed your father? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Really. I mean sure, I’m wearing the most hideous jumpsuit ever and the food here sucks, but it could be worse.”

“William, it’s me. You don’t have to…”

“I know, Glinda. Just see to Buffy for me. Please.”

“Buffy? That Buffy?”

“Yeah, that Buffy.” The phone beeped, letting William know his time was running out. “I need to go. Can you do this for me?”

“I… Okay. Call me back when you can, all right? I’m going to be worried.”

“I know. And I will. Bye, Tara.”

Not able to hear anything else from her, not when she sounded so concerned for him, Spike hung up the phone.

*** *** ***

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Buffy looked up when there was another knock at the door. She wondered if the police were back, if this time they were going to take her away.

“Buffy?” an unfamiliar female voice called from behind the door. “My name is Tara Maclay, and I’m a friend of William’s. He sent me over to check on you. Can you let me in?”

At that, Buffy perked up, albeit slightly. She’d never heard of Tara Maclay, but if she’d spoken to Will…

She pulled herself up and went to the door, opening it slowly. As soon as she did, Tara gasped, taking in Buffy’s disheveled, bruised form.

“Oh, goddess…” was all she could manage to say as she stepped inside and locked the door behind her. William had told her she was in bad shape, but…

Tara tucked a piece of blonde hair behind Buffy’s ear. She looked so completely and utterly destroyed, and all Tara wanted to do was fix her. “Did William’s father do this to you?”

Buffy nodded slowly. “Liam was my husband.”

Tara nodded. She’d known a little bit about Buffy, though William had been reluctant to talk about a lot of it. What he had said was after a night of a little too much to drink and way too little sleep. She hadn’t been aware things had started up again after Drusilla. “Is that what happened to William? He killed his father to protect you?”

Buffy looked at Tara sharply. “Is that what he said happened?”

Tara eyed the other woman skeptically for a moment. “He said he killed his father.”

Buffy reached into the pocket of her robe, rustled what sounded like paper, and whispered, “That’s what happened.”

And in that instant, Tara knew the truth. She’d always been able to read people, always been able to see what was beneath the surface, and this was glaring. Part of her wanted to march right over to the jail and yell at William for being an idiot, but then she took another look at Buffy and knew why he was doing this.

This girl wouldn’t last a moment in his shoes. She was barely making it as it was.

“Buffy, we need to clean you up, but first, I want to take pictures of these bruises, all right? We might need the proof later that Liam beat you. Can you let me do that?”

Buffy’s eyes were pointed at Tara’s face, but it was if she wasn’t really looking at her at all. “Did you talk to Will? Is he all right?”

Tara put her hand on Buffy’s arm and spoke soothingly. “Will is fine, sweetie. He just wants me to take care of you. I’m going to do that, but first I want to get these bruises on film. That might help William, okay?”

Buffy’s eyes met Tara’s then, though Tara could tell the other woman was not fully with her. “It will?”

“Yeah, it will. Are you going to let me do it?”

For a moment, Buffy was still and silent, but she finally nodded.

Glad she happened to have a digital camera in her purse, Tara gently led Buffy in the living room.

*** *** ***

If nothing else, jail was boring. Spike had spent incredibly too much time already simply lying on his bunk, watching the ceiling and trying not to get blinded by the glare of way too much orange on his body.

“Angelus, get up. You’ve got a visitor.”

Spike turned, eyeing the guard on the other side of the bars. “Visitor?”

“Yeah, your lawyer’s here.”

“I don’t have a lawyer. Waived the right to counsel and all that.”

The guard shrugged. “Look, buddy, I just relay what I’m told to, and they’re telling me Lindsey McDonald is here to see you and he’s your lawyer.”

Spike blinked, gaped for a moment. Lindsey? His father’s lawyer? Why in the world would his father’s lawyer be representing him when he was charged with the man’s murder?

Unless his mother had sent him… Spike was observant enough to know what had been going on between his mother and Lindsey, and the best he could think was that she had convinced Lindsey to represent her son. Which William had to say surprised him since he didn’t think his mother would care one way or the other if he rotted away in prison.

“Yeah, all right. I’ll talk to him.”

The guard said nothing as he cuffed Spike and led him out of the cell, down to the visitor’s area. Spike looked around, noting that he’d be behind a window, talking through a phone, just like in the movies. How quaint…

He picked up his phone, waited for Lindsey to grab the other line. “And you’re here because…”

“You’re in jail for murder, William,” Lindsey said without preamble. “You need a lawyer.”

“No, I don’t, and especially not my father’s lawyer. You’re a dick.”

Lindsey smirked. “Well, yeah, I’m a lawyer. Your mother sent me. She’s beside herself at the thought of you in here.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure she is. That tearful visit I haven’t gotten from her really proved that.”

“She sent me here instead. She wants you out.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not getting out. I confessed.”

“I can get that thrown out,” Lindsey said. “You were under duress.”

“The hell I was. I confessed, and you’ll bloody well leave it alone!” Spike snapped. This was the last thing he needed, some meddling lawyer trying to push the case in another direction. He wanted things to be open and shut.

“Will, come on. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but there’s no reason to rot away in here.” Lindsey smiled too easily. “You’re a rich boy, William. I can get you out of this in my sleep. And I’m working on getting bail for you, too. This ‘flight risk’ stuff is just bullshit.”

“I fucking shot my own father. I don’t want out. So just go away. Hold my mother’s purse while she dances on Liam’s grave.”

“William…”

“We’re done here, Lindsey.” Spike hung up the phone and called for the guard, not bothering to look at Lindsey as he was led back to his cell.

*** *** ***

Assistant District Attorney Charles Gunn didn’t realize there was a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth as he walked into the crime lab. A thin, brunette woman in a white coat leaned over a table, examining something he couldn’t see from where he was standing.

“Dr. Burkle?”

She turned around, an almost imperceptible blush crossing the young woman’s face as she pushed her glasses up further on her nose. “Mr. Gunn. I didn’t see you standing there.”

“I just got here. And you can just call me Gunn. Everyone else does.”

The blush darkened. “Then you can call me Fred. It’s short for Winifred, which you probably figured out if you knew my name, but if you didn’t, well, now you do, and…” She looked down at her fingers. “And I’m totally babbling.”

Gunn’s smile grew. Like he minded a babble when it was that adorable… But he was here for a reason, and it wasn’t to check out Dr. Foxy. “Have the prints come back from the gun in the Angelus murder yet?”

Fred nodded and pushed her glasses up again. “They have. They match the son’s.”

“Any sign of the wife’s on there?”

“Not that we could see,” Fred replied with a shake of her head.

“Dammit.”

“Is she a suspect?”

“Not officially, but I think she is. Where’s the gun now?”

“Ballistics. I’m having them run tests to compare it with the bullets we found at the crime scene.”

Gunn frowned. “Is there doubt it’s the murder weapon?”

“I don’t know. I found something weird when I was at the crime scene earlier, and I wanted to check it out. I mean, it might just be nothin’, but it could be somethin’, too, so I knew I couldn’t ignore it.”

“What is it?” Gunn asked, his arms crossing in front of him as he began to worry that his case might be falling apart right then and there.

“Well, the son said he fired the gun three times, right? I mean, that’s what they told me he said in his confession, so I guess that’s what he did.”

“Yeah, he did,” Gunn replied with a terse nod.

“Well, there’s eight bullets at the crime scene. Three in the wall and five in the body. And, well, I’m not sure they’re even from the same gun. They don’t really look like it, which is why I sent the gun to ballistics. I want to know which, if any, of those bullets came from that weapon.”

That was a turn Gunn hadn’t been expecting at all. “Huh.”

“I thought the same thing, only it was a little more than ‘huh,’ because it’s a pretty weird thing to show up at a crime scene. I mean, why would anyone want to shoot a wall?”

“I don’t…” Gunn shook his head. “Keep me posted on that one, Fred,” he told her as he started towards the door again. “Let me know what you find out as soon as you do.”

The blush was back. “I will, Mr. Gunn. Er…Gunn.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

Alone in her lab again, Fred sighed softly before she turned back to her work.

*** *** ***

Buffy hadn’t wanted to shower, hadn’t wanted to change her clothes, and certainly hadn’t wanted to eat the sandwich that was now in front of her. Yet every time she met opposition, Tara reminded Buffy that William wanted her taking care of herself, and then, it got done.

Buffy blonde hair was a mess, tangled even after the shower, and as Buffy finished her sandwich, Tara went to get a brush, then set to work detangling the mass of golden waves.

“You know the truth, don’t you,” Buffy said, her soft, pained voice surprising Tara since she’d spoken so little since she’d gotten there.

“Yeah, I do.”

“I don’t want him taking the fall for me. I don’t. I…” Buffy trailed off as she burst into tears.

Tara put the brush down and came around to kneel beside Buffy, letting her lean forward and wrap her arms around her. Tara rubbed the other girl’s back, wanting to tell her it was going to be all right, but knowing she couldn’t put the confidence Buffy would need to hear in those words right now. “I know you don’t, sweetie.”

“He told me I had to. He left me a note and told me I had to, and I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared, and I miss him, and…and…” Buffy couldn’t find anything else to say. Not even the tears seemed like enough, but they were all she had.

“William’s okay right now,” Tara said, hoping it was the truth. She didn’t know what to do any more than Buffy did right now. Should Buffy decide to go against what William had asked her to do and turn herself in? Would it be better for both of them if Spike was the one to serve the time? She didn’t know, and she didn’t think there were any easy answers for something like this.

“What do I do?” Buffy asked, pulling back to look at Tara’s face.

Tara thought for a moment, then answered. “You take care of yourself. When I talked to William, he told me that was all that mattered to him. He just wants you to be okay.” She didn’t know what else to say. She was out of her depth, in the dark about the details, and knew any final decision had to be Buffy’s.

Buffy reached out and grasped on to Tara’s forearm. “Can you stay with me now? I know you don’t really know me or anything, but I don’t think I can be alone right now.”

“I won’t make you be alone. If William loves you the way he obviously does, then I know you’re a good person, Buffy. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you.”

Somehow, Tara found a way to smile.

*** *** ***

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Spike was trying not to go stir-crazy. He didn’t foresee getting out of there anytime soon, so he had to get used to the confinement.

It would be easier if he could talk to Buffy. Just hearing her voice would go a long way to calming him down, he knew. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk contacting her now and anything being said that would put her in there instead of him. Perhaps later, after things had had time to settle, he’d be able to talk to her without having to worry about something slipping.

If he would ever see her again at all… Spike couldn’t ask Buffy to wait for him. For all he knew, he was in here for the rest of his life. Best case scenario, he’d be an old man before he tasted freedom again. Buffy needed to move on, fall in love again. The very thought of it tore at him, but he knew it was for the best. Buffy needed to be happy, needed to have a chance at a real life. His sacrifice was being made for her happiness. Even if he knew there was a chance that she could have a better defense, spend less time in than he would, he’d rather suffer for a century than let her suffer for a day.

He’d give his life for her happiness. Buffy had suffered enough.

Spike laid back on his bunk, willing his mind and body not to fight against the loss of freedom.

For her, he could accept this fate.

*** *** ***

“How did you meet William?”

Tara looked across the couch at Buffy, surprised the other girl had even spoken. She’d been nearly silent since she’d asked Tara to stay, and Tara had been reluctant to start a conversation either, unsure of what she even should say.

“Through Drusilla, sort of. Did you know her?”

Buffy nodded. “I did. I didn’t like her.”

Tara could help but smirk slightly. “I didn’t like her either. But I’m part of this group, witches mainly, and Drusilla was there for a while. She brought William along, and we hit it off. Drusilla ended up being asked to leave, but William and I kept in touch.” Tara shook her head. “I never understood what he saw in her.”

“Yeah, me either.” Buffy looked down at her hands. “Although if he’d stayed with her, he probably wouldn’t be in jail right now.”

Tara was silent, unsure of how to respond to that. This whole situation was a pretty messed up one.

Buffy didn’t wait for an answer anyway, didn’t seem to be expecting or wanting one. “He shouldn’t be the one in there now. I should be. I’m the one who killed Liam. Will’s never hurt anyone. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Tara looked at the bruises on Buffy’s face and neck. “Neither of you do.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Buffy replied, shaking her head. “I killed Liam. I didn’t mean to, but I still did it. William shouldn’t be taking the fall for me.” She looked back up at Tara, her eyes wide and searching. “I can tell them it was self defense, can’t I? The bruises are still there, and you have pictures. He was attacking me. If I tell them that, then maybe neither of us will have to spend a lifetime in jail.”

“I don’t know,” Tara replied honestly. She didn’t, and didn’t know how she could give advice on something like this. “I don’t really know how it works. Did you and William talk about what you were going to do at all?”

“No. He left when I was sleeping. When I came here, I wasn’t even sure if Liam was dead, or hell, even if I’d actually shot him.”

Tara knew she shouldn’t really ask what she was about to ask, especially since she had no intentions of bringing any information she got to the police, but she was already in as it was – what did it matter if she got a little deeper? “Buffy, what exactly happened that night?”

Buffy looked away again, and for a moment, Tara thought she was going to retreat back into herself. However, she finally began to speak, though her words were so soft that Tara had to lean forward to hear her.

“Liam came home late that night. I was already in bed, but he called me into his office and showed me pictures he’d had taken of me with William. Most of them were of us outside this apartment, kissing by the door, though there were some others, too. Liam, he…well, he’s been hitting me since last summer, but this… He was crazy, Tara. He hit me and choked me and…” Buffy paused for a moment, swallowing hard and trying to fight the tears in her eyes. “He tried to rape me. He had me pinned down, but…but I got free. And I knew he had a gun in his desk drawer, so I got it out, and I don’t know, everything after that is foggy, but I got scared, and I fired the gun. I didn’t see if the bullets hit him, but he didn’t get up. William said maybe I didn’t hit him, but seeing as he’s dead, I guess I did.”

Tara sat in silence, trying to process what Buffy had just told her. What did you say to something like that?

Nothing. There weren’t words, no platitudes that would helping the hurting lessen.

Instead, Tara opened her arms and let Buffy cry in her embrace.

*** *** ***

Dr. Winifred Burkle had had to go back to the crime scene. The more she looked at the evidence, the less sense it made.

It was like doing a jigsaw puzzle with the wrong picture on the box. She’d been told what the final result should be, but none of the pieces fit together that way. The problem was, she didn’t know what the right picture was.

She had a lot of pieces, but she had been doing this long enough to know some very crucial ones were missing.

So she’d gone back to the crime scene, her mind whirling as she took a closer look at every inch of scene. Her focus kept going back to the wall, with three very distinct holes where bullets had been removed.

Fred stared at the wall for a moment, head cocked to the side, before she began to walk backwards slowly, her arm stretched in front of her as if she were tracing an invisible line. Her eyes widened and she turned around, facing the blonde woman in the doorway.

“Detective Lockely, you’re a little over five feet tall, right?”

“Give or take,” Kate replied. “Why?”

“Come stand here and take out your gun.”

Kate looked skeptical for a moment, but she did as Fred asked, her curiosity piqued if nothing else. Fred moved in and began positioning Kate, moving her arms in different ways, glancing between the wall and Kate’s gun.

“Mrs. Angelus shot the wall,” Fred announced after several moments.

“What?” Kate asked, confused by what exactly Fred was doing – and why.

“Mrs. Angelus shot the wall,” Fred repeated. “These bullet holes were made by someone about your height, and she’s about your height, at least according to your report.”

Kate nodded. “She is.”

“So she shot the wall. She didn’t shoot her husband.”

“She’s not who we have in custody,” Kate replied.

“But you’re looking at her as a suspect,” Fred countered. “Besides, I don’t think the son did it either.”

“How do you figure that from bullet holes in the wall?”

“Because if he did shoot his father, then he’d confess with the real crime, right? He wouldn’t confess to what was actually the shooting of a wall and not a person at all.”

Kate stared for a moment, trying to sort out what Fred was saying before she finally admitted she couldn’t. “I’m not following you.”

“The story the son gave when he confessed was he shot his father three times. Well, his father was shot five times, not three. But the wall was shot three times, which makes me think Mrs. Angelus really shot the wall, but she told the son she shot her husband, and then he went to the cops using her story as his. Only her story wasn’t accurate because she never shot her husband.”

“Why would she claim she killed her husband if she really only shot the wall?” Kate asked with a frown.

“Well, you said she was roughed up, right?”

“Yeah. She looked pretty bad.”

“So she was hysterical,” Fred answered with a shrug. “I mean, if my husband attacked me and I grabbed a gun and fired, I probably wouldn’t know what I hit either. If I had a husband.”

Kate nodded. It was a roundabout way of thinking from her point of view, but what Fred was saying made sense. Which meant they definitely had the wrong guy. And whomever had killed Liam Angelus was still free.

Unless the son was screwing with them entirely, which was also a possibility.

“We should call the ADA in,” Fred said suddenly, pulling Kate out of her thoughts. “He needs to look at this stuff, because we may not even be able to hold William Angelus much longer if there’s evidence negating his confession.”

Kate looked over at the wall again and sighed as she reached for her cell phone.

Why couldn’t something be simple for a change?

*** *** ***

Buffy lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. She’d told Tara she was going to try to sleep, but rest wasn’t coming. It had been two days now, two days that William had been locked away for a crime that was hers not his. She couldn’t even begin to think about what he could be going through, every prison horror story she’d ever heard running through her mind.

He was the last person in the world to deserve something like this. His entire life had been full of suffering and isolation. He needed a chance to live, a change to experience everything that had been denied to him.

Buffy had happiness once. William had not.

She understood what he was trying to do, but she couldn’t let him do it. The guilt was too heavy, too much of a burden for her to bear. She couldn’t live a life of freedom knowing the price for it was the life of the man she loved.

Hopefully, William would understand.

Buffy rose from the bed and dressed, her features set with determination. Whatever fate she faced now, she’d accept it without regrets. Even if she spent the rest of her life behind bars it was better than being at the mercy of Liam Angelus.

In that, she could take comfort.

Tara sat up straight on the couch when she saw Buffy walk out of the bedroom. She started to speak, but Buffy stopped her.

“I’m turning myself in.”

“Are you sure you really want to do that?” Tara asked.

“I have to. I can’t let William suffer for what I did. I love him, Tara. That’s not something you do to someone you love.”

Tara nodded, making no move to stop Buffy. She didn’t like the idea of either of them in prison – both ways hurt someone who didn’t deserve it – but it wasn’t her call to make.

“Can you talk to William for me?” Buffy asked. “Tell him I’m okay with this, and that I’m happier facing any consequences than I would be knowing he’s bearing them for me. And…and tell him I love him. More than anything in the world.”

“I will,” Tara promised, surprised she could talk with the lump in her throat.

“Thank you. And thank you for helping me, too. You didn’t have to do that.”

“You needed help, Buffy. That’s not something I can turn my back on.”

“Still, I appreciate it.” She gave Tara a half smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll write you from prison.”

“I’ll get copies of those pictures and get them to you,” Tara replied. “They’ll help with your defense.”

“Thank you,” Buffy replied with a nod. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay, I need to go before I change my mind.”

“Do you want me to drive you?”

Buffy thought for a moment. If Tara took her, that could ensure she’d get there, since there’d be less of a chance to panic and run if she wasn’t behind the wheel. “Yeah, okay.”

Tara stood and the two women left the apartment.

*** *** ***

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Detective Lockely watched Dr. Fred Burkle as she wandered around the crime scene, examining every little thing that caught her attention as they waited for the assistant district attorney to arrive. Periodically the brunette would mumble something to herself, and Kate found herself wondering if she was a genius or completely insane. Possibly a bit of both…

Fred said something audible, and Kate looked up sharply, realizing this time she was actually being addressed. “What did you say?”

Fred looked up from where she was crouched beside the massive desk in the middle of the room. “I said I bet this is where he hit his head.”

“Who hit his head?” Kate asked, her brow wrinkling.

“The guy. Liam Angelus. The body has a mark on the head, and there’s blood and what looks like maybe hair on the corner of the desk. Whoever processed the scene must’ve missed it because the wood of the desk is so dark.”

Kate walked over to Fred and crouched down, examining the corner of the desk. Sure enough, there was a patch of what looked like blood and hair. “You think it’s the vic’s?”

“Only one way to be sure,” Fred replied before scraping her find into a vial for processing.

“If it is his and he did hit his head on the corner of the desk that night, do you think it even has anything to do with the case?” Kate asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea. This one’s got me baffled. Nothing’s making any sense.”

Kate nodded, actually relieved to hear Fred say what she’d been thinking. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t seem to make the pieces fit on this one. It made her feel a bit less like an idiot who couldn’t do her own job – especially since she’d wager Dr. Burkle had a few IQ points on her.

Heavy foot falls alerted the two women to the arrival of ADA Gunn and they both stood, their gazes turning towards him. “You said you had something to show me at the crime scene?”

Fred set the vial down on the desk and rushed over to Gunn, tugging his arm so he was turned towards the wall. “Look.”

“It’s the shot-up wall,” Gunn said evenly. “I knew about that.”

“No, really look,” Fred told him. “Look where those bullet holes are. Someone William’s height didn’t make those. Someone the size of Mrs. Angelus did.”

Gunn crossed his arms over his chest. “Which isn’t too surprising considering she turned herself in right before I got here.”

Fred’s eyes bulged. “What! But she didn’t do it either!”

Now it was Gunn’s turn to look surprised. He’d figured the wife for the real perp the whole time and had been relieved when she’d turned herself in, hoping he could get to the bottom of what had happened and deal with it from there. But if she didn’t do it, and William didn’t do it…

It was all making his head hurt.

“Okay, why don’t you think she did it?” Gunn asked.

“Because of the bullets. The tests came back from the lab and the ones in the wall definitely don’t match the ones in the body. But they do match the ones in the gun, which makes me think that Mrs. Angelus panicked and shot the wall when she was fighting with her husband, but she didn’t check to see if he was dead. He might have hit his head and gotten knocked out because I found blood on the desk, but…”

Gunn stopped her, holding up a hand. If he was going to make sense of all of this, it needed to come more slowly. “If she didn’t shoot her husband, then why is he dead?”

Fred’s mouth snapped shut and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe it was the son.”

Fred and Gunn turned towards Kate at her declaration. “How do you figure?” Gunn asked. “His story’s got holes.”

Kate stepped forward, joining the other two. “Okay, so his girlfriend comes over to his place, beaten and freaking out, thinking she just shot her husband. He goes over to see if he’s dead or not, finds him alive, things get heated, and the son kills the father.”

“But why give the false story?” Gunn asked.

“Because he knows it’s false,” Kate replied. “I mean, it’s kind of crazy, but I’ve seen people try weirder to beat a murder wrap. He confesses to a crime that he knows we’re going to figure out is bogus. He brings us the wrong murder weapon after getting rid of the real one, knowing we’re going to figure out the bullets don’t match.”

“So what, he’s trying to escape a murder rap by confusing the hell out of all of us?” Gunn asked.

“Who else could it be?” Kate asked, crossing her arms in front of her. “The only suspects we have are the two of them. No one else was here that night, and Angelus certainly didn’t shoot himself five times.”

“Unless someone else was here,” Fred pointed out. “Did this guy have any enemies?”

Gunn snorted. “That’s putting it lightly. Three ex-wives, screwed over former business partners, and a whole mess of people who just thought he was a jerk.”

“Well I read about this thing one time where people investigating a crime get so caught up on proving a certain suspect did it that they ignore the other possibilities,” Fred said, talking so quickly Kate found herself having a hard time keeping up. “Maybe we’re missing the big picture. I mean, yeah, William could’ve killed his father and is trying to get away with it by giving a false confession to a murder he actually did commit, but I think we need to be looking at other people, too. And we need to find the gun that actually put the bullets into Angelus.”

Kate and Gunn both stared at Fred for a moment until she held up her hands. “Well? What do y’all think?”

“I think we need to start looking around,” Gunn replied. “Figure out if anyone else was here. Did he have any security cameras, anything like that?”

Kate shook her head. “We looked. He had an alarm, but it wasn’t tripped.”

“Telephone records!” At Fred’s loud outburst, Kate and Gunn both blinked. “Well,” she began, her words quickly gaining speed again. “If the alarms weren’t tripped, that means it was someone who Angelus let in, and no one else but the wife lived here, so maybe it was someone he knew was coming. And if he knew they were coming then…”

“There could’ve been a phone call,” Gunn finished for her, grinning as he said it. “You’re one smart woman, you know that?”

Fred looked down, blushing. “It’s nothin’ really, I’m just thinkin’ out loud. I mean, I could be wrong. Probably am.”

“No, you could be on to something,” Kate said, a pensive look on her face. “I’ll look into getting his phone records, both cell and land lines.”

“And I want to talk to the kid again,” Gunn added. “See how he reacts to the wife turning herself in. If I could get him to back off his story, maybe we’d have a better chance at getting the real one.”

“And I’ll take those blood and hair samples I scraped off the desk back to the lab,” Fred said. “See if they belong to Angelus. It would be nice if they didn’t and belonged to the murderer instead, but seein’ as he had that big ol’ bump on his head when they brought him in for autopsy, I don’t think I’m gonna get that lucky.”

Plans laid, the three of them set out to see if they could get to the bottom of what had really happened to Liam Angelus.

*** *** ***

“Good afternoon, Mr. Angelus, I’m Charles Gunn, the Assistant District Attorney.”

From across the table in the interrogation room, Spike looked Gunn in the eye. “Don’t call me that. It’s Spike.”

The young man’s eyes were hard, his expression blank.

That changed with the next words out of Gunn’s mouth.

“Okay, Spike. I was wondering if maybe you could explain something for me. Seems your father’s wife came in this morning and confessed to a murder you claim to have done.”

Spike paled, swallowed hard. For a moment, he was completely silent, then he started talking quickly. “She didn’t do it. I did it. I don’t know why she’d even say she did it. Girl must be out of her mind, what with everything that’s going on.”

Gunn decided not to play his hand and tell Spike he was starting to suspect maybe neither one of them did it. He wanted to see what he could get this boy to say, what sort of truth he could pick from the lies.

Because by this point, he knew he was lying – the question was just whether or not it was to cover his own ass or Buffy’s.

“Come on, Spike. You and I both know what you’re doing. You’re what, nineteen? Do you have any idea how much you’ll be missing spending your life in here? There’s lots of other women out there. You don’t need to throw your life away for this one.”

Spike’s gaze locked back with Gunn’s, his eyes hardening again. “I did it. Not Buffy.”

In that moment, Gunn realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere. He’d severely underestimated the young man across from him, both in strength and stubbornness.

“Are we done here?” Spike asked, his voice level, detached.

Gunn nodded and signaled to one of the officers standing guard. “Yeah, I think we are.”

Spike let himself be led back to his cell without a word.

*** *** ***

The moment Spike was shut in his cell again, the panic set in. What the hell was Buffy thinking turning herself in?

He’d told her not to. He’d told her to let him take the fall, let him do this for her. He was strong; he could handle this.

She’d already been through too much, suffered when she’d never deserved a moment of it. He needed to do this for her, needed to spare her from more pain. She’d already been in one hell because of Liam Angelus. She didn’t need to find herself in another one now that he was gone.

He roared, punched the wall, earning him a shout from the guard and a row of bloody knuckles. Still, he did it again, before turning around and cursing at his inability to do anything that wasn’t futile.

He’d known, talking to the ADA, that the time he had before they released him and kept Buffy in his stead was limited. There’d been reason to doubt him from the beginning, and now that they had Buffy’s confession, he knew the murder charges on him wouldn’t stick. What happened from here on out would be out of his control. Buffy would be sent to prison and he couldn’t stop it.

He felt helpless.

Guilty.

He should’ve worked harder on his confession, made it stronger, made his story stick. He should’ve woken her up before he left, stressed to her the importance of letting him do this. Looked her in the eyes and made her believe this was truly how he wanted things to be. He should’ve made this work.

He hadn’t.

He’d failed her.

She was the only person in his life to love him and he’d failed her.

William sunk down on the bunk, his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and all he could see was her in a place like this. She’d fade away here. His bright, golden goddess would pale without the sun.

She’d be broken.

And William didn’t think he’d know how to fix her.

*** *** ***

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Usually, Kate Lockley enjoyed interrogating suspects. It gave her a thrill, making the bad guy crack.

Cracking Buffy Summers-Angelus was not a chore she looked forward to.

She sat across from the young woman and clasped her hands in front of her on the table. Buffy’s bruises were still dark and angry against her skin, marring the blonde, tan California girl image Kate was sure she would’ve projected otherwise. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Buffy shook her head. “No. I just…I just want to tell you what I did so William can go home.”

If nothing else, these kids were devoted to each other – Kate had to give them that. She’d seen more couples turn on each other than not in situations like this. Very rarely was one person so willing to fall on their sword to save their lover, never mind both.

Kate spoke gently, constantly reminding herself to go easy with this one. Gunn had called right before she’d gone in to speak with Buffy and told her he’d gotten nothing from the son. She’d put in a request for phone records, but there was no guarantees those would turn up anything either. The woman seated across from her may very well be the only lead they had towards actually cracking the case. “Buffy,” she began. “Can I call you Buffy?”

A nod. “Yeah.”

“Buffy, I want you to start from the beginning. Tell me everything about that night.”

Buffy looked down at her hands, not able to look at Kate as she let out what she’d been holding in. “Will was in Mexico that day. We…we were planning to run away. I… Liam was beating me. More and more. I just wanted out.”

She had to stop for a moment, a lump forming in her throat and tears spilling over onto her cheeks. Kate slid a box of tissues across the table and Buffy took one with a mumbled, “Thank you.”

“Do you need to take a break?” Kate asked, forcing her voice to stay even, reminding herself again this one had to be handled delicately.

“No.” Buffy shook her head. “No. I want to tell you what happened. I don’t want Will to have to take the blame for what I did any longer.”

“Then what happened between you and your husband that night?”

“He came home late. I was already in bed, but he called me into his study. He’d…he’d found out about Will and me. He had pictures…I guess he’d had someone watching us. We...he attacked me. He tried…” Buffy had to stop for a moment, wringing the tissue in her hand. “He tried to choke me and he tried to rape me. I got free, and that’s when I got the gun. I didn’t…I didn’t really mean to hit him. I just wanted to scare him, make him get away from me.”

“Where did you shoot him?”

Buffy looked up. “What?”

“Where did the bullets hit him?”

“I…I don’t know,” Buffy admitted. “I didn’t look.”

Kate nodded tersely. “And when did all this take place?”

Buffy scrunched her face up, trying to think. “Um…around ten? I looked at the clock when he came in, and I’m fairly certain it was ten.”

“And you’re sure he was dead when you left?”

“Well, I didn’t check,” Buffy admitted. “But he went down, and he didn’t get back up. And then they found him shot, so…”

“Buffy, was anyone else in the house besides you and your husband?”

Buffy pulled back, blinked. “I know Will said he did it, but he really wasn’t there. He wasn’t even in the country. Don’t they have like, cameras at the border or something? Something you can see that he couldn’t possibly be there?”

“Not him. Someone else.”

“Why?” Buffy asked, wary of the question.

“It’s just something I need to ask.”

“Not that I know of. It’s a big house, but I didn’t hear anyone else in there, and the staff should’ve already gone home for the day.”

“Did you notice anything unusual at all? Did your husband mention planning to meet anyone?”

“What? No. He was attacking me.”

Kate nodded again. “Is there anything else you can tell us about that night?”

“No, not really. I went to Will’s afterwards, told him what happened. The next morning I woke up, and both Will and the gun were gone.”

Kate shut off the tape recorder beside her. “Thank you, Buffy.”

Buffy said nothing, looking down at the shredded tissue in her hand. She felt relieved to have shared the burden of her guilt, yet at the same time, Kate’s questions left her puzzled. She couldn’t help but fear that somehow this would end up still on William’s shoulders.

A guard placed her hand on Buffy’s shoulder, indicating it was time for her to go back to her jail cell. She went without argument, though she couldn’t stop the questions swirling in her mind.

*** *** ***

The last person Spike felt like dealing with was Lindsey McDonald, so when he was informed his lawyer was there to see him again, he was less than thrilled. Honestly, he’d rather just stay in his cell.

Yet there he was, looking through a glass at Lindsey’s forever-smug face. “What do you want?”

“Look, I’m just going to cut to the chase with you,” Lindsey said, correctly assessing Spike wouldn’t take to anything else. “Liam’s wife confessed, which I can get you out with. However, they’re talking about holding you on hindering charges, so I’m going to try to work out a deal for you. Will you be willing to testify on the stand that she confessed to you that night?”

Spike’s eyes narrowed but remained trained on the lawyer. “No.”

“Come on, William. Don’t tell me you’re actually stupid enough to do something like this for your little girlfriend.”

“I’m…” Spike stopped short, his head cocked to the side. “How did you know Buffy’s my girlfriend?”

For a moment, the smug grin fell, but just as quickly, it was back. “Why else would a guy put everything on the line for a girl if she wasn’t giving him some? Or at least teasing him with the possibility.”

“Shut your gob, McDonald. You don’t know a bloody thing about me an’ Buffy. And no, I’m not making any sodding deals. Hell, I’m not even going to retract my confession.”

Lindsey’s mouth fell. “You’ve got to be kidding me. William. Come on, they’ve got this girl anyway. All you’d be doing is corroborating evidence they already have.”

“No. I’m not giving another answer, so you might as well stop asking.”

“You’re being an idiot.”

“Maybe. We’re done here.”

“For now,” Lindsey conceded. “Call me when you wake up and realize she’s using you.”

“Get out of here before I’m forced to actually hire a lawyer just to keep you away.”

Lindsey stood up without another word and walked away.

If nothing else, Spike could find a little satisfaction in that.

*** *** ***

Dr. Fred Burkle went over her latest set of test results once again. She knew they weren’t going to tell her anything new, especially since they hadn’t told her anything surprising to begin with, but she liked to be thorough.

The blood type of the samples she’d found on the desk matched that of Liam Angelus. The hair had been deemed “microscopically similar” as well. Because of that, they’d opted to forgo the more expensive and time-consuming DNA testing.

At some point before his death, Liam Angelus had hit his head on the corner of his desk – hard enough to draw blood and remove hair. That much she knew for certain.

What she didn’t know was what it meant to the larger picture.

Or even if it meant anything at all.

She looked up when the door to the lab opened, unable to keep herself from smiling when she saw the handsome young Assistant District Attorney walk in.

Especially with the way he was grinning ear to ear. She didn’t know what had him so smiley, but it was infectious.

He waved a small packet of papers in the air as he approached her. “I was right.”

“About what?” she asked.

“You.” Somehow, his smile managed to grow. “You, doc, are an absolute genius.”

Fred blushed a deep crimson and looked down, her long brown hair falling over her face. “I don’t know about that. I don’t even know what I did.”

Gunn slapped the papers down on the table in front of Fred. “Phone records. And look at that highlighted call. It’s from the line Liam Angelus had in the study.”

Fred situated her glasses on her nose as she picked up the piece of paper on the top of the stack. “Eleven oh-one p.m.,” she read off, her expression blank for a moment until the significance of the time clicked in and she grew excited. “Didn’t the wife say she killed him at ten?”

“Yep. Which means either Liam made a phone call after he’d been dead for an hour…”

“Or she didn’t kill him!”

“Not at the time she said she did anyway.”

Fred nodded. “Gives a lot of credence to our ‘something’s rotten in Denmark’ theory. Or at least rotten at the Angelus mansion.”

“Baby, I think a lot of things were rotten there.”

Fred looked up sharply. “Did you just call me baby?”

Gunn grew wide eyed as she called him on his slip. “I didn’t mean…it just came out. Dammit, I should know better than that. You know, being a lawyer and all.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean nothin’ like that! I wasn’t offended. I…” She stopped short when she realized what she was about to say and cleared her throat. “So what are you going to do? Do you know who he called?”

“We’re working on that,” Gunn replied. “Turns out the number was made to one of Angelus’s own company’s cell phones, which means it was most likely to an employee, or at least some sort of close business associate.”

“Is there anyway to find out who that was?”

Gunn nodded. “Apparently, they keep records of who the phones are signed out to, but we’re going to have to go through the whole warrant process all over again to get those. It’ll take several hours, if not a day or two, depending on how much Lady Justice likes me today.”

“Oh.” Fred leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “I hate suspense.”

Gunn chuckled, finding himself completely enamored by her. She was so unlike any other woman he’d ever known… “Yeah, me, too. Guess we better find something to do to fill the time.”

Their eyes met. Fred smiled slowly.

“I know it’s kind of the wrong time of day, but I know this 24 hour diner that makes great waffles,” Gunn said, taking a step closer to her.

“Yeah? You know, I’ve always thought breakfast tastes better at suppertime anyway.”

His only response was to smile at her again.

*** *** ***

Spike wondered how many people wished they were staying in their cells as they were being led out.

Apparently Lindsey’s worries of a hindering charge were unfounded as Spike was released on all charges the following morning. They handed him back his clothes and sent him on his way, as if the past few days hadn’t happened at all. It was all unsettling.

And only meant he’d truly lost his chance to save Buffy.

Tara was there to meet him, and he slid into her car without a word, his head hanging down.

“She didn’t want you to take the fall for her, William,” Tara said softly, not needing him to speak to know what was on her mind. “She loves you too much for that.”

“I don’t care,” Spike replied softly. “I could handle it in there, Tara. She can’t.”

“She couldn’t handle you being in there, William. Not for something she did. You…you didn’t see her. She was a mess.”

“I…” Spike swallowed hard, forcing himself not to cry. “Just take me home, all right?”

Without another word, Tara drove away from the jail.

*** *** ***

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Tara offered to stay, but Spike told her he’d rather be alone. Maybe it was the effect of spending too much time in solitude making him not want anyone around just yet. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t want anyone to see him cry, not even Tara.

Either way he was glad when she didn’t press the issue and left him on his own back at his apartment.

The air around him was silent, no sounds aside from that of his own ragged breaths. He hadn’t slept in days, not really, and he was wishing exhaustion would overtake him now. It didn’t. Instead, his mind seemed to be stuck on a continuous loop, his thoughts of nothing but what Buffy must be going through now.

His life had been full of injustices. Despite the fact he’d technically been born into wealth and privilege, he’d suffered neglect throughout his childhood. If it hadn’t been for a few kindhearted housekeepers, he honestly wasn’t sure he would’ve survived his early years, his parents often too preoccupied to remember he was too young to feed or clean himself.

He’d learned early, however. Never once had he been able to turn to his parents for comfort, be it from a bad dream or a scraped knee. He’d learned to cope, learned to deal. Learned to find what he needed in other places.

But somehow, this struck him as the biggest injustice of all. His life, well, it had grown to simply feel as if it were his lot in life. He’d come to accept the world he’d been born into. But Buffy… She’d known something else once. She’d had happiness, had love. And now it had all been taken from her by no fault of her own.

She’d once been a little girl in a loving home. She’d once been happy. And slowly, it had all been stripped from her until she was left to rot away in a cell for a crime she shouldn’t even been punished for.

He rose, his anger at it all outweighing his heartbreak. With a loud roar, he struck out, knocking everything off his bedside table. From there, he moved to the bed, ripping off the sheets and overturning the mattress.

He didn’t stop until everything in the room was turned over, until the outside matched what he felt inside.

Only then did he crumple to the ground and let himself cry.

*** *** ***

A loud chirping sound came from the bedside table and Gunn groaned, not awake enough to move towards it until a tired female voice spoke from behind him.

“I think that’s yours. Mine plays the Dixie Chicks.”

Gunn’s eyes opened as he reached for his cell phone. Events from the night before played in his mind and he smiled. Who knew waffles could lead to that?

And oh, what a night it had been, too. There was more to that shy, brainy criminologist than met the eye…

He looked at the caller ID then flipped the phone open. “Gunn here. You have something for me, Lockley?”

“Yeah. The name of the person who called Angelus that night.”

Gunn sat straight up, any vestiges of sleep now gone. “Who?”

“Lindsey McDonald.”

“His lawyer?” Gunn asked. Suddenly, he got a sinking feeling that maybe this wasn’t going to be the break they’d thought it would be. Of course a man who’d just found out his wife was sleeping around with his son would call his lawyer.

“Yeah, and get this – they don’t just keep records of who had the phone. They keep records of what calls come in and go out, too. Seems right after he got off the phone with the vic, McDonald made a phone call. To Darla Angelus.”

And with that, Gunn went from thinking they might not be on the right path to knowing they were. “He called the first ex-wife?”

“Yep. I did a little more digging, and it turns out the rumor around the office was that they were having an affair right under the boss man’s nose.”

“Bring McDonald in for questioning.”

“Already on it,” Kate replied. “I’m outside his house with a warrant now.”

Gunn smiled. “You’re good, Katie.”

“Yeah, I know I am. Now you get your ass down to the station.”

“On it.” The line went dead and Gunn clicked the cell phone shut. Fred was sitting next to him, her expression interested and eager.

“Good news?”

“I think so. They know who Angelus called.”

She bounced a little, vibrating with barely-contained excitement, and Gunn had to remind himself he had somewhere to be and couldn’t roll her back over now. “He called his lawyer. Who apparently then immediately called the women who office gossip puts in his bed – Darla Angelus.”

Fred’s eyes widened. “The first wife?”

“Yep. Kate’s at McDonald’s house now with a warrant. My guess is they’re going to be searching for that murder weapon, too. She wants me at the station and you better get to the lab.”

“On it.” Fred gave him a mock salute then hurried out of the bed, presenting him with a very nice view of her naked backside as she did.

Gunn shook his head, once again telling himself later.

Right now, they had a murder to solve.

*** *** ***

Lindsey sat in the interrogation room refusing to speak. Granted, it had been in another capacity, but he’d done this before. Before he’d become in-house counsel for Liam Angelus, he’d spent time as a defense attorney, and had sat in on many an interrogation.

This would be a piece of cake. The wife had confessed. This would all fall on her.

Detective Kate Lockley was staring across the table at him, but he just smirked.

Kate, however, didn’t flinch. He was refusing to talk, but that didn’t weaken her resolve in the least. Unlike she had been when questioning Buffy, Detective Lockley was in her element now. She knew how to break smug little bastards like Lindsey McDonald.

A knock on the two-way mirror had Kate looking up, and she dismissed herself without a word, leaving Lindsey to stew.

“What have you got?” she asked the officer she found waiting for her outside the room.

“We found a gun, buried in his flower bed of all places.” The man shook his head. “You’d think a lawyer would have more sense than that. He’s got to have seen what trying shit like that gets you. The gun’s with ballistics now. Visually, the bullets seem to match the ones in the body, but they’re running more tests now.”

Kate nodded. “Thanks. Let me know as soon as you hear anything else.”

“There is one thing, ma’am.”

“Yeah?”

“That gun, it’s not registered to him. It’s registered to Darla Angelus.”

Kate’s eyes lit up for a moment before her face grew emotionless again. “Bring her in.”

*** *** ***

Where Lindsey hadn’t been willing to say a word, Darla had hardly been able to wait before she spilled her version of events.

Tearfully, she sat across from Kate, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

Kate had to admit Darla Angelus was a damn good liar, and it wouldn’t surprise her if the woman was able to sway a jury. After too many years in this seat, however, Detective Lockely was not swayed.

Still, she listened.

“Lindsey called me that night. He told me that Liam had just called him and said he wanted him to come over so he could cut mine and Liam’s son, William, off completely. No support, out of the will, everything.” Darla paused, adding another well-practiced sob. “Apparently William had dropped out of school and was having an affair with Liam’s latest wife. Some trampy ex-stripper who would go around seducing sweet boys like my William. I…I had no idea. My perfect little boy… I just couldn’t imagine what that woman did to make him behave like that.”

“Just get to the facts, please.”

“William had a trust fund, and Lindsey was the executor of that. Lindsey told me that night he’d been taking money from the trust fund, using the money that was set aside for my son to support his own lavish lifestyle.”

“And you had no idea this was going on?”

Darla looked at Kate, wide-eyed, and shook her head. “No! William is my baby boy! He’s the most important thing in the world to me, and I want nothing more than to make sure he’s taken care of. I was furious with Lindsey when he told me that, but he said it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going to let Liam take this away from him. He…he hung up on me then and the next thing I heard, Liam was dead.”

“Do you realize the gun that shot your ex-husband was one registered to you?”

“I…I thought it might be. I kept a gun in my nightstand for protection – I live alone, you know – but when I went to look for it after what happened to Liam, it was gone. Lindsey must have taken it.”

“There’s one thing I want to know,” Kate said, her eyes hard.

“Yes?”

“You say your son is the most important thing in the world to you?”

“Yes, of course.”

Kate leaned forward, staring Darla down. “Then why did you let him sit in here and face charges for a murder he didn’t commit? If you knew Lindsey had done it, and, as you say, you were ‘furious’ with Lindsey for stealing from your son, then why didn’t you come clean? Tell me, who were you really trying to protect?”

Darla’s face grew pale, her eyes wide.

For once, she was at a loss for words.

*** *** ***

Spike sat alone in the wreckage of his bedroom, a bottle in his hand. More than half of it was gone, but the pain was still there.

He didn’t think all the liquor in the world could numb it. What he was feeling now went beyond emotional pain. It was a physical ache, tearing at his insides, ripping at his heart.

This was all his fault. He’d waited too long, been too slow. He should’ve taken Buffy away from Liam months before. They should’ve run that night, when they’d first talked about it. Just gotten in his car and drove, never looking back.

He was a stupid, foolish boy, and his mistake had cost Buffy everything.

Spike could never forgive himself for this, and he wouldn’t blame Buffy if she never could either. His idiocy had brought all of this down on both of them, driven them apart and banished her to a life without freedom. A life without sunshine…

He hated himself, hated how weak he was. Hated how he couldn’t…

“Couldn’t save the girl,” he said aloud, the words followed by a near-hysterical laugh.

He’d tried to become someone new, but it hadn’t made him any stronger, any better. He was still the same pathetic boy he’d always been. New clothes, different hair, but still only William…

He sneered and took another swig from the bottle.

A knock on the door pulled attention to the present, but he ignored it, not wanting to be bothered. Whoever it was, they could just go. Leave him to suffer in peace.

Yet they didn’t go, the pounding growing more and more insistent, until finally he stood, determined to make them go the hell away.

He stalked to the door, threw it open.

He gasped and the bottle fell from his hands, the rest of its contents spilling all over his carpet. He blinked, not believing his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating something in his drunken state.

Yet he stared and she went nowhere, the image of her crisp and clear. He reached out, touched her, and felt the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips.

Softly, he breathed her name.

“Buffy…”

*** *** ***

Please, please review. I’ll beg if I have to!

“Buffy?”

Almost as soon as her name was out of his mouth, he fell forward, too drunk to remain upright, and Buffy moved quickly to catch him, straining to support his weight.

“Sorry, luv,” he muttered, trying to stand on his own feet, though his arm stayed around Buffy. “I’m drunk.”

“I noticed.”

“I was…you were…” He looked up at her, his brow furrowing. “How are you here?”

Despite everything, a small smile crept to her face as she responded to his question. “I didn’t kill Liam.”

“Oh.” It took a moment for her words to reach his drink-addled brain, but when he did, he looked at her in surprise. “What?”

“Let’s go in, okay? Maybe lie down? I’ll explain it all, but I’m tired.”

“Yeah, all right.” Spike went with her into the bedroom, momentarily forgetting about the room’s current state until they walked in. “Uh…I, um…I was upset.”

“Apparently.”

“I thought you were gone. I thought you were gone, and I hadn’t saved you. I let you down. Buffy, I let you down…”

He leaned into her, his head on hers as he started to cry again, though his tears silent. Buffy wrapped her arms around him, held him close. “You didn’t let me down, baby. Oh, William, you didn’t let me down.”

“I did… I was supposed to protect you…supposed to save you.”

The position they were in was awkward, too much of his weight leaning on her, making it hard for her to support him. She spotted the mattress on the floor behind them and led him over to it, guiding him to lie down with her. He immediately curled into her body, his arms gripping her, keeping her against him as if he were afraid to let her go.

“You did save me,” she told him, her own voice choked with tears now. “You did. You loved me when I had no one else.”

“I was supposed to keep you safe,” he said again.

“Shh… Will, it’s okay now. I’m here. I’m here with you and I’m safe.”

“I don’t understand,” William said. He nuzzled her hair with his nose, needing a moment to breathe her in, assure himself again that she was real and in his arms.

“Someone else shot Liam. They…they wouldn’t tell me much, just that it wasn’t me. He was alive when I left, and I…I didn’t do it.”

Spike pulled back, looked at her face and tried to process what she was saying. “Someone else? Two people shot at the man twice in the same night?”

Buffy shrugged. “You know, it’s not so unbelievable. He was really an asshole.” Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Buffy began to laugh, the force of it shaking her small body.

When she kept going, Spike wondered for a moment if maybe she’d finally snapped. “Luv?”

“He’s dead, Spike. God, he’s dead. He’s…gone. I’m free. We’re free.” She stopped, trying to calm herself. “He’s dead, and I didn’t do it. We…we can be together now.”

Her words cut through the haze, and Spike blinked before he grinned. She was right. They were free… “Buffy… God, pet. I can’t believe we’re really… I…”

She put her hand against his face and smiled lovingly at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “We are. We can be together now. No more worrying, no more fear.”

Spike kissed her, sighing in contentment at the taste of her on his lips, his tongue, again. He’d thought he’d lost this. He’d thought she was gone.

He wanted more than a kiss to assure him. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her around him, and know she was truly there with him. Flesh, blood, his. But his body was too weak, the events of the past few days and the effects of the alcohol weighing too heavily on him.

So instead, he pulled her close, wrapped himself around her so he could feel every part of her. And with her there in his arms, he could finally rest.

*** *** ***

Spike woke up alone. He panicked and sat straight up despite the throbbing in his head. Had last night been only a dream, made too vivid by too much to drink?

He heard the toilet flush and then the sink turn on and dropped back to the mattress with a sigh of relief. She was here. Buffy was here. Free and with him.

She came back into the bedroom and he smiled sleepily at her. “Hey, pet. You worried me there for a second. Afraid I’d just dreamed you up.”

“Sorry. I was worried about that, but I really had to use the bathroom.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I tried to be quick.”

“It’s all right. Long as you’re here.” He held his arms out for her and she moved quickly to fill them.

She trailed her hand down his chest and he caught it, brought her fingers to his mouth to kiss them. “I’m here, Will,” she assured him. “I’m right here.”

He moved his kiss from her fingers to her lips. He’d always cherished every moment with her, but now, after he’d come so close to losing her forever…

His arm hooked over her waist, pulling her flush against him. She moaned into the kiss, her leg sliding between his thighs. “William…” she whispered against him when they broke for air. “My sweet William…”

His smile was almost shy as he ducked his head, reminding her of the man she’d first met. Despite everything they’d been through, he was still there, behind the bleach and the leather. He was still her William inside.

She turned his head back towards hers and rained kisses on his face. His chin, his nose, the sharp edge of his cheekbone… With every kiss, she told him she loved him, the words ghosting over his skin. He trembled against her, his hand tight on her hip.

William brought his lips back to hers, tasted salt in the kiss and didn’t know if they were her tears or his. Their tears… His hands trailed under her shirt, caressing her skin, feeling her warmth. Slowly, he pulled the shirt off her, breaking the kiss only long enough to get it over her head and toss it away.

Her chest was bare now, her nipples hardening in the cool air of the room, and he trailed down from her mouth, kissing her neck, her collar bone, finally coming to a stop against her breast. His mouth was gentle, reverent against the peak, and she sighed softly, her hands in his hair, caressing the silken strands.

His hand skimmed her taut stomach to the waistband of her jeans. He popped the button, slid down the zipper, and pushed his hand into her panties. She was wet, so hot, and he worked a finger inside her pussy, eliciting harsh pants from her.

“Spike…Will…please…”

Her broken plea was all it took. He pushed her jeans and panties down until she took over, kicking them away. William moved up again, removing his own clothes before pulling her back against him. She was breathing heavily, her face flushed. He pressed his lips against her forehead and spoke against her skin. “You’re so gorgeous, luv. Like an angel in my bed, you are.”

“William…” she said, his name somewhere between a whimper and a moan. It was too much, the swell of her heart, her need for this man. She didn’t know what words she should say, didn’t know which ones would be strong enough to tell him what he meant to her.

She wasn’t sure there were any.

His strong hand came around to cup her bottom, guiding her until their bodies were aligned. He hooked her leg over his hip, opening her up for him.

Then her hand was around his cock, her grip sure and steady. She knew what she wanted, had no second thoughts or reservations. The day they’d longed for was there, when they could be together with nothing holding them back. Liam was no longer hanging over their head. Nothing was…

She guided him home; they sighed together.

For the first time in so long, everything was as it should be.

*** *** ***

Epilogue to follow tomorrow…

Please review. It would really make my day (it hasn’t been a pleasant one…)

England, Ten Years Later

Light filtered in through the picture window, lighting the dining room of the country estate. The little girl laughed as she ran around the large, dark wood table after her brother, her golden curls bouncing, shining in the rays of the afternoon sun.

“What have I told you about running in here?”

Both children stopped short, almost bumping into each other, and turned to face the woman in the doorway. “We were only playing, Mummy,” the little girl replied, the tiny pout on her face the one that always worked so well on her father whenever he was cross with her.

It had much less of an effect on her mother.

Buffy stared down her two young children with her hands firmly planted on her hips and her eyebrow arched. “It won’t be a lot of fun when you’re getting stitches in your head, Joyce Elizabeth.” Suddenly, she gasped, jumping a few inches in the air when she felt arms wrap around her waist, only to relax when she realized it was only her husband.

“Something going on in here, luv?” William asked, his hand coming around to take Buffy’s from her hip and caress her soft skin.

“They were running around the table. Again. You know how many times I’ve told them to knock that off. That’s how my Great Aunt Gladys ended up with a huge scar right down the middle of her head!” Buffy waved her arm in front of her face, as if to indicate where the supposed scar had been.

“Well, they keep doing it ‘cause they’re all cooped up in here,” William replied as he slipped away from Buffy. “C’mon, you little monsters. Let’s go see if you can wear your old man out.”

The children shrieked, darting after their father, Buffy’s shouted command to wait until they got outside to start running only falling on three sets of deaf ears. She shook her head, wondering why she even bothered sometimes.

Soon, they were outside the window, and Buffy made her way towards it, a smile at the corner of her lips as she watched the three of them. Her heart swelled with warmth at the image they made. Her family.

Joyce shouted, tackled William to the ground, and Buffy giggled at the sight. He turned towards the window and saw her, smiling back at her as he ran a hand through his dark brown curls as he favored her with a teasing wink. Joyce shouted, demanding her father’s attention, and his eyes were soon back on the child, his fingers coming up to tickle her, bringing peals of laughter from the girl.

Moments later, Billy joined the pile, letting out a war cry as he jumped on top of both his father and his sister. William shouted before he began tickling his son, too, both children crying out together with delight.

Even watching it from a distance, Buffy joined in their happiness.

These days, she rarely thought of Liam Angelus these days, the man who had once hung like a dark specter over her life now only a distance memory. Surprisingly, she’d discovered that, if anything, she was grateful for her first marriage, however hellish it had been.

Despite all the pain it had caused her, in the end, it had brought her this. Without Liam, there would’ve been no William in her life. Without Liam, she never would’ve found this, and for that, yes, she was so very grateful.

Almost as soon as the trials had been over, Lindsey and Darla both found guilty of conspiracy to commit murder, she and William had left Los Angeles for good. Joyce had already been growing inside of her, and they wanted something new, a fresh start.

Liam had never had a chance to write his son from his will – apparently Darla’s plan of having Lindsey kill Liam for her had been successful in that it had stopped the changing of the will, although in the end, it hadn’t allowed her and Lindsey to continue siphoning off of William’s trust fund, as they had wanted. Because of that, all of Liam’s sizeable fortune had passed directly on to William, without the need to wait until he was twenty-one as the stipulations of the trust fund had called for. They’d sold the house and most of his possessions back in California, preferring to begin their family in a home of their own. A home without scars.

Buffy liked to think they’d built something good here in England, with neither of the children knowing the sort of isolation their father had. William had confessed to her, in the weeks before Joyce’s birth, that he feared what sort of father he would be, worried he might hurt his children the way his father had hurt him.

She had told him she knew in her heart he never would. No matter what his genes were, he was a good man. She’d known without a doubt that he’d also be a good father.

He’d proven her right. Time and time again, he’d proven her right.

Hell, she was pretty sure he was a better parent than she was.

He loved his children. He loved her.

It had been a rocky road, but she’d found her white knight. He’d saved her, brought her out of the darkness into a world full of light, full of laughter. Full of love.

A small, private smile graced her lips.

Buffy Summers had finally found her fairytale.

*** *** ***

That is the end. No more. No sequel, so don’t bother asking.

I hope everyone enjoyed the story, even with all its down points. It was an emotional one to write, and I know it was to read, too. Thank you for sticking with me through until the very end. I appreciate all the kind words each and everyone one of you who took the time to reviewed shared, even if I sadly don’t have the time to be able to thank each of you personally. Know that I do read every review that’s written, and seeing what you have to say and simply knowing that you’d be good enough to take the time to say it always puts a smile on my face, no matter how bad my day. So thank you.

And even though it’s the end, one more review would be nice. *wink*