She wasn’t waiting at the house, as he thought she might be. Would be. She didn’t slip away from her room to join him in the middle of the night, or the next day, or the day after that.
Nor did she answer her cell phone. His increasingly frequent calls to her line were met with a dull automated message informing him that the owner of the phone was not in a calling area, which was impossible. That phone worked all over campus. He’d made sure of that before giving it to her. There was only one answer.
She’d turned it off. Tuned him out.
Maybe that wasn’t it, he tried to convince himself. Maybe she’d just let the charge run out. Maybe she’d forgotten to pack the phone to bring back to school. Maybe she’d lost it. Maybe—maybe—
Jesus. William buried his face in his hands. He was desperate. Pathetic. Chasing after a student—a child!—
She wasn’t a child, he corrected himself. She was a woman. A woman, one who obviously didn’t want him anymore.
But it didn’t seem right. He knew her, more than he ever thought he could know another person. Better than he ever thought he’d want to.
It was ending, as he’d known it would. A little earlier, true, but how much difference could a few months make?
He had to respect her wishes. He knew that.
And yet….
~*~*~*~
She was floating. She was light, she was airy, nothing could disturb her. And then—then—
Buffy jerked awake, her eyes flying open, her entire being focused on the hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her breath.
William bent over her, his eyes glittering, face inches from hers. “Don’t scream,” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He began to draw back his hand, and she opened her mouth. “Quiet,” he hissed, pressing his hand against her briefly. “We don’t want to wake the others.”
She stilled, and he pulled his hand away and sat down as if it were a polite little longstanding meeting.
He stared at her expectantly. He seemed to be waiting for something, but she was too unnerved to speak. And she didn’t know what he wanted her to say anyway.
Finally he spoke. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
It took a moment for her mind to work. “All right…?”
“I didn’t hurt you?” he asked earnestly, leaning forward. “I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t want you to scream. That would have been—disastrous.”
She hesitated. He looked…normal. Like the William she loved, the one who cuddled her and crooned nonsense into her hair. Not the one who’d lost control in the library. Who, after she’d shoved him back, had stared at her with an almost crazed expression.
Her William murmured softly to her in his low, persuasive voice. Found ways for them to be together. Knew every wicked thing she liked. Knew just where to hold her so the bruises wouldn’t show.
It was all her William.
“I was scared,” she burst out. “You were strange, you weren’t like yourself—you were out of control.”
“Oh god, baby,” he exclaimed, taken aback. He’d never imagined Buffy being afraid of anything, let alone him. “I’m sorry. I just—god, I missed you so much, I—.” he bit his words back with an effort. Coming to her room was wrong, he was only making things worse. “I’m sorry, this was a mistake—”
Buffy spoke as if he hadn’t said anything. “It was like—like it was the last time, and we’d never see each other again. And pretty soon it’s going to be the last time,” she said, her voice breaking.
“Don’t think about it—”
“How can I not think about it? This time was for a few weeks, but next time it’s gonna be forever.”
“No,” he said rashly. “I’ll think of something, I promise.”
“What?” she demanded, too upset to
pretend she didn’t care. “I move in with you after I graduate? They’d kick you
out of here! Or maybe you can move to
“There are other ways—we just have to find them,” he argued, but she wouldn’t be calmed. He nudged her over in her narrow little bed and she accommodated him, moving so that he could slip beside her and pull her close to him.
“There’s no way,” she insisted.
He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed reassuringly. “Sweetheart, I have my ways,” he chided.
“I have tricks you couldn’t even imagine.”
