CHAPTER 99 - ALONE AND TOGETHER

Buffy awoke in the morning, the same as she’d gone to sleep hours before, feeling William’s hands rubbing her back, soothing her. But of course, he couldn’t have been doing it all that time. Right?

He knew she was waking by the feel of her eyelashes fluttering on his chest, by her hands that stretched open, gently rubbing his shoulder, by her body as it shifted closer into his.

She looked up at him, her expression, questioning, when she saw his red rimmed and bloodshot eyes.

"Morning."

"Morning."

"Didn’t you sleep?"

"I’m not sure. Maybe a little, probably not."

She didn’t know what to say to him, so she kissed him softly. She felt him stir, as she leaned into him, but as she tried to deepen the kiss, he ended it chastely, by kissing her on the forehead. Gently he pulled out of her embrace and got up.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Um…sure. That would be nice," she answered. She wanted to say was, "What I really want is you," but she didn’t.

"Be out in a little while," she said.

"Alright," he said, already at the door.

She came out to the kitchen a few minutes later; she picked up her coffee cup that had already been poured for her and took a sip. William had his back to her.

"Can I do anything to help?"

"No thanks. Almost done; hope scrambled eggs are alright."

"Sure," she answered. He hadn’t looked at her since she’d come into the kitchen, which she thought was kind of peculiar.

They ate breakfast in mostly silence, William only answering a direct question or comment by her. She noticed, too, that he wasn’t eating very much. He’d mostly pushed his eggs around the plate, taking only a few bites, and having about a half piece of toast with some blackberry jam.

When she’d finished eating, he’d gotten up to take her plate, but she stopped him. "I’ll do the dishes, after all, you cooked. Why don’t you go out to the living room and relax a while? I’ll join you when I’m done, okay?"

"Okay," he said, getting up.

She watched his back as he left the kitchen. She was almost sure that he’d sounded relieved to be…what? Getting out of doing dishes? Most likely not that, as he didn’t seem to have any qualms about pitching in and helping in that way. Then what? Relieved to be getting away from her? It hurt her to think that, but he’d been acting so strange ever since last night, she couldn’t help but let her mind go there.

She washed the dishes, then peeked into the living room. He was sitting there, one of the library books in his hands, but he appeared to be just staring off into space, rather than reading it. She busied herself with more grunt work, cleaning off the stove, the counter tops, the table, even mopping the floor; all the while checking on William every so often.

When she finally came into the living room, coffee in hand, some 40 minutes later, she found him slumped over on the couch, the book still in his hands.

She lifted up his legs, so that they were on the couch and pulled him by the shoulders, so that he was fully stretched out. Next, she took the throw off the couch and tucked it around him and got a pillow from the bedroom and put it under his head.

Buffy looked down at him, gently pushing some hair off his forehead, "It’s alright William, you get some sleep now," she whispered.

He only mumbled back something unintelligible, and let out a soft snore.

She picked up his coffee cup and took it to the kitchen. Just as she put it into the sink, she heard her phone.

"Shit!" she said, hurrying to the bedroom to retrieve it.

She closed the door before answering it, "Hello," she whispered.

"Buffy? Hey, it’s Clem! I wanted to know if Spike, er, I mean William wanted to work on the car today?"

"I don’t know…"

"Or I could take him driving. How did he like the driving lessons?"

"He liked them fine, but I don’t know if he’s up for it today. He had sort of a…bad night and he’s just fallen asleep."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"What happened? Um…if you don’t mind my asking, that is."

Buffy sighed, "I’m not sure. You know we went to the DMV and all that, then I was teaching him to drive around here for about an hour, but he wanted to go somewhere else, so we went to the high school’s parking lot and around Julian. Then we had lunch at The Rittenhouse. He met Edna and Wallace."

"How did that go?"

"It was okay. I mean Edna got a bit emotional, but I’d already warned him about that, and he seemed to be handling it. As he said, he’s sort of used to people he knew before having strange reactions to him," she said.

"Well, glad to hear that went well."

"Uh…yeah, that was okay," she said, distractedly. As she’d retold this part, a little something in her brain had started to make her spidey senses tingle.

"So, what happened after that?"

"Nothing much, we came back home, just hung around. We watched some show, drank some wine, then went to bed. Then, around 3:00 or 3:30am, I woke up and he was gone, I mean, he wasn’t gone-gone, but not in bed, not in the house. I found him outside and he was seriously freaked out by some dream he had," she said, pausing. "When I finally got him to talk to me, he asked me if…if Spike would hurt me, or if he had."

"Oh dear," Clem mused, "what did you say?"

"I told him no, of course."

"So, you think he was dreaming of himself as Spike, and that he hurt you?"

"Kind of sounds like it."

"That’s not good, especially since he doesn’t know everything and it sounds as if he’s just getting some mixed-up bits in a nightmare."

"Exactly! And by the way, when did you become all Psych101-like?"

Clem giggled, "It was my minor in school."

"After cooking? Shouldn’t cooking have a minor like refrigeration or something?"

"Well, actually it was my major, before I went to *France to the cooking school. I just couldn’t take having to deal with everyone’s pain."

"I’m sorry."

"No, I didn’t mean yours and Spike’s, I can deal with that," he said in his always cheery Clem fashion.

"Uh…thanks, I think."

"You’re welcome. Go on with the story."

"No story really, just he was freaked. Now he’s passed out on the couch."

"Passed out?"

"Oh, yeah, forgot to mention he’d been drinking again last night when I found him," Buffy said, with a bit of a scolding inflection in her voice to let Clem know she thought he was quite possibly responsible for having initiated William in the ways of the bottle. "Guess he was trying to dull the pain. I don’t think he slept at all last night, after I got him back to bed. So yeah, he’s rather passed out on the couch now."

"Well, he’ll probably feel a lot better after he’s had some sleep then."

"I hope so, Clem. He was still acting all wiggy this morning."

"I’ll call him later in the afternoon; see if he wants to do anything."

"Okay, but I sort of think today’s not going to be the best day for him. I was afraid yesterday was going to be too much. But yeah, go ahead and call. Maybe he’ll be all better and…whatever by then."

"Okay. Talk to you later."

"Bye, Clem."

"Bye, Buffy."

She hung up the phone and went back into the living room. William was still in the same position, not that there were many positions to be in on the couch, snoring away.

In her mind, she reviewed yesterday’s events, trying to figure out what may have triggered his subconscious, which resulted in the nightmare. First she went through the events at the DMV. Normal-nightmarish and bureaucratic-nightmarish, but still, not Hellmouth-nightmarish.

Next, she thought about the driving lessons. There were some weird moments before they went into town, but that seemed to be just on the level of insecurities they both felt sometimes. Well, at least as far as she could tell from what he said, since she didn’t know what he’d been thinking.

Finally, her thoughts brought her to the restaurant and the interactions they’d had with Edna and Wallace. They talked, they’d eaten. Her, Fettuccini Alfredo, and William, steak. Steak. Maybe that was it!

William had been totally revolted by the bloody steak. At the time, she thought it pretty ironic in a long line of recent ironies, but now looking back; it seemed his revulsion was a bit more than what she would have thought was ‘normal;’ whatever ‘normal revulsion’ for a bloody steak should be, that is. So, what did that mean, then?

She ran her hands through her hair, as she stared at him. Would a bloody steak be enough to trigger nightmares of pain and suffering; of him or Spike hurting her? Didn’t seem likely, yet, unless all of it was unrelated, there it was. Then there had been what Edna had said, about William having always ordered it that way, until she backpedaled, when Buffy had given her a ‘look.’

Lastly, there was the little blast to the past when Wallace told William he remembered him and gave him a physical description of Spike, down to every detail, including the cold hands. Which of course, could just be attributed to the weather, or maybe he’d just helped Edna take out some ice cream. In any case, those were the possible explanations she’d come up with, should he have asked.

She was just grateful that Wallace wasn’t 10 years older than he was. If he’d been their age, and he’d talked about William from when he was 7, that would have been a lot harder to explain to William how he’d dressed and looked like a ‘rock-star’ when he was a kid, too. Her head spun, just thinking about it.

So many close calls with the truth she was trying to shield him from.

Buffy itched to go out to the barn, up to the loft and hit the punching bag for a good long while. Just for the sake of getting out some frustrations. She hadn’t done anything even close to training, in God knew how long, but as far as slaying went though, she felt she was retired for good. She’d given it a good, long seven years of her life, had lost almost everything she’d ever held near and dear, and that was enough. Still, old habits died hard, and besides, she liked working out.

She looked over at William and sighed, giving up the idea of leaving the house even for a short while. Instead, she decided that she’d do some paper work, pay some bills, and go online while he slept. It gave her a reason to stay close by, without seeming like she was just hovering, which of course, she was.

Looking at her watch, she noticed it was 10:00am, hmm, that made it evening in England, maybe she’d be able to catch Willow online, she thought.

Logging on, she checked her email. There was a letter to all the teachers about a couple of meetings scheduled within the next couple of weeks. Well, she could chuck those.

Next there was a letter from Mrs. Carpello, asking if her and William could both meet with her before the second meeting, as she would be out of town for the first. She urged Elizabeth to go to the first meeting, despite her reservations.

That was all the letter said.

"Couldn’t have been a bit more forthcoming, could you?" she grumbled to herself.

Well, she’d decide later if she’d make that first meeting or not.

There was an email from Andrew from a few days back. It read:

She sighed, she knew that she should have written to Andrew or called him to thank him for all his help, but she’d put it off, because she was still afraid that she couldn’t trust him completely.

She decided to go ahead and respond.

The next email was from Dawn. She told her about the call from Andrew, about her enrolling in classes for the new semester, and about her finally getting to spend some quality time with Dr. John and how well that was going.

Dawn wanted to know if Buffy had planned anything for William’s birthday, and if she had any ideas on what she might buy him. She said to tell him she said hello.

Buffy emailed her back, letting her know she still wasn’t sure what she was going to do for his birthday, but that Dawn would definitely be included, no matter their plans, and that she’d think about what she should get him. She also gave Dawn William’s email address and told her that she should call him soon, that he would probably really appreciate talking to her.

She told Dawn about the car and William learning to drive, but didn’t go into what had been happening since the day before.

Next, she looked for Willow online, but not finding her there, decided she’d pay some of her bills. Luckily, she could do them all online, though she didn’t think it took any less time than good old fashioned check and stamp methods used to, probably more, in fact.

She wrote to Willow, asking her to please I.M. her, as soon as she got her email.

She killed some time surfing the web, just letting one link lead her to another; anything to distract her from the increasing anxiety she was feeling over this latest thing with William.

Finally, she perused some food sites, finally finding a recipe for soup that she could make, since she had most of the ingredients. She hand copied it, so the noise from the printer wouldn’t wake up William, then went to the kitchen to get it started.

It took her the better part of an hour, all the while checking on him to see that he was still asleep, still alright, to put it all together; peel all the vegetables, potatoes, add all the ingredients, etc.

Once she had it cooking and was able to turn down the heat, she made herself a quick sandwich for lunch. Just as she sat down and was about to take a bite, she heard the chime of the Instant Message of her computer.

"Crap!" she said, hurrying to turn off the sound before it awoke William, but he seemed still totally unaware of the world around him, as he snored on, as before.

MRW: Hi Buffy!

MRW: Buffy, you there?

Buffy I.M.’d back, using her new code with Willow, RS03, which stood for, ‘Retired Slayer 2003’ while Willow’s new one, MRW, stood for, ‘Mostly Reformed Witch.’

RS03: I’m here, hey Willow

MRW: Hey Buffy, did you get all the papers?

RS03: yeah, I got them the next day

MRW: good…so what’s new?

Buffy briefly told her of the car, the driving lessons, and of Edna, then she told her of last night.

MRW: did he tell you exactly what he’d dreamed?

RS03: no, I don’t think he could talk about it, don’t think he wanted to put it into words, but I got the idea it must have been pretty horrible

MRW: horrible, like at the Grand Canyon horrible?

RS03: likely, in a different way. I’m just grateful he didn’t go into that sort of catatonia he did back there

MRW: maybe you should just tell him about everything Buffy

RS03: I don’t know

MRW: well, it’s obvious that somewhere inside that head of his, he’s channeling Spike’s memories or something, but he only is getting the worse of it, if not some new, horrible made up versions, like where he hurts you…well besides all the plotting to kill you, I guess he did that time…you know, when I was sort of bad myself

RS03: no, I don’t think that’s the kind of dream he had, not that kind of hurt, besides, we resolved all that between us ages ago. I wish everyone would just forget it already, I have!

MRW: consider it forgotten by yours truly, but what if he doesn’t know it’s all resolved, as you put it?

RS03: you think that’s what he dreamed?

MRW: who knows? Could be any variation of truth, wishes, desires, dreams, past, present, etc., etc.

RS03: that narrows it down plenty

RS03: not!

MRW: sorry, guess that’s not much help, huh?

RS03: not really

MRW: I still think you should tell him, give him a chance to come to grips with the truth, rather than with bits of truth, blended in with a lot of nightmares

RS03: don’t you think I’ve considered that? I think about it all the time. When will I do it? When is the best time? Will he just remember? What ifs on top of what ifs!

MRW: I know

RS03: but I can’t come up with any answers, I don’t have any and yet I’m the one he’s depending on for them; at least he should be able to depend on me for them

MRW: I know…and however, whenever YOU decide to tell him, he’ll have you to help him cope

RS03: and to hate for having lied to him

MRW: you’re not lying out of malice Buffy, you’re lying to protect him

RS03: think he’ll recognize the difference when his whole world crashes in?

MRW: maybe not at first, because anybody in his position, is going to have a lot to deal with…and so do you for that matter…but I think eventually he’ll come to grips with it

RS03: not like I could’ve just walked into the hospital room and told him all about himself now was it?

MRW: of course not

RS03: and so many other instances where he’s been so fragile from just a glimpse of something past or some other ‘William’ insecurity…it breaks my heart Willow! How can I add a freakin’ ton of misery onto that? Tell me, please!?!

MRW: I don’t know Buffy, I’ve no magic for it, no right answer. Only, I wouldn’t let it go too long. Maybe if he knows, then he’ll become stronger, be able to go on and have that normal life with you

RS03: yeah, I can see the headlines, "Former Slayer and Former Vampire Now Living a Normal Life in California Hideaway," read the whole story in next week’s Enquirer, available at your newsstand!

MRW: kinda catchy, maybe you should write a book instead

RS03: Oh that I could! If not, always have Andrew ghost write it for me, right?

MRW: he-he…Well, don’t know if I was any help to you

RS03: always helps to talk, makes me think outside of myself…so yeah, think it did…you always do

MRW: thanks

They talked a while longer about Willow’s work and school and about Kennedy and her classes. Kennedy was thinking of taking off a semester to get a bit more involved with the slaying and Willow wasn’t too happy about that. She told Buffy that she’d been evasive about her trip back to the states, as far as Giles was concerned. Telling her that he seemed to accept not exactly being in the loop.

Buffy thought that if Giles wanted to be in the ‘loop’ then surely, he’d find a way to do so. She hoped Willow was right; she didn’t want him knowing about William.

By the time she’d finished talking with Willow it was almost 2:30pm. She went to the kitchen and found her uneaten sandwich still on the table.

"Probably spoiled by now, huh?" she asked it.

It didn’t answer, but she tossed it away anyway and settled on a lowfat yogurt and some non-lowfat potato chips.

She stirred the soup, turning it down to low, since it was quick evaporating. She added another cup of water.

"So much for my cooking abilities; I suck!"

Buffy felt restless, having to sit around the house all day while being quiet. It looked like a lovely day outdoors and she was... She clamped her hand to her mouth, as if it were the same as having clamped it to the inside of her brain, which had suddenly come up with the word, ‘trapped.’

"God, not only do I suck at cooking, I obviously suck at compassion as well," she said to herself, "how can I be thinking this?"

Buffy’s brain tried to rationalize it for her; "It’s not real, just an errant thought, just like William’s dream wasn’t real."

"Yeah, but at least he was asleep, I’m standing here in the kitchen arguing with myself and having, ‘my, but aren’t we the selfish bitch?’ thoughts."

"Hey, what do you want from me? I’m only you."

"Stupid brain!"

"Whatever."

"Shut-up already!"

Buffy looked in the cupboards for anything sweet she could make. She found a box of ‘Easy Rice Pudding.’

"Sounds all British-y," she mused, reading the directions.

Half an hour later, she was wiping the hair out of her face as she fought to get the pudding the right consistency, before leaving it on low to simmer a while.

"Easy my ass! Should’ve just made some instant vanilla pudding, mixed in some white rice, thrown some cinnamon and nutmeg on it and let that be, but noooo! Of course not, I’ve got to try to get all kiss-the-cook-like, all domestic-goddess- like. Yep, that’s me, all domestic, all normal, all so full of crap and good intentions."

Finally, it seemed as if it was coming together, more or less, so she turned the heat down, set the timer for an hour, and decided to go read something.

Buffy sat down across from William, and picked up a book she’d started to read last June. Determinedly, she turned to the page with her bookmark and tried to pick up the story, but she found herself either looking at William, or thinking about him, not the book.

Next she tried a magazine, which she figured wouldn’t use up too many brain cells when she tried to concentrate.

"Something dentist office-y," she thought, picking up an old People Magazine. But still, her brain wouldn’t still enough for her to enjoy even this stupidest of vicarious pleasures, reading about the lives of the stars and other famous people.

The whole time she’d been sitting there, she knew that what she really wanted was to go and curl up next to William. But she didn’t want to disturb him. What’s more, not since the first night, or rather first early morning when they’d arrived in Michigan did she have more doubts about his wanting her presence next to him.

Despite her misgivings, or perhaps even to prove her feelings wrong, she could no longer deny herself the physical closeness that she so suddenly, desperately craved; she rose and walked over to the couch.

It hadn’t just been that William had been napping the day away that had gotten to her. It was that she’d felt alone. Not like she’d felt when living here by herself, which she’d adapted to, but much worse, alone and together, at the same time.

He lay facing outward. Quietly, she lay down next to him, facing him. She resisted the urge to put her arm around him and draw in closer; instead she just tentatively rested her hand lightly on his chest, her head near, but not quite touching. She hadn’t even pulled the throw over herself, instead, just lay on the edge of it. Telling herself she would get up as soon as the timer for the rice pudding rang, she closed her eyes and was soon asleep.

William opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself on the couch. Looking next to him, he was almost as surprised to find Elizabeth next to him, barely there, yet near. He pulled the edge of the throw out from under her and put it around her, and pulled her in closer. She responded in her sleep, by putting hers around him and burrowing her head in his chest, entwining her legs with his.

His mind was foggy, as he searched his memory of when he’d fallen asleep here; by the look of the light, it was getting on towards evening. Thinking back, he remembered bits and pieces of the day before, of breakfast, and not much else.

The smell of her hair and the warmth of her body were distracting him. He kissed the top of her head and ran his hand along her back, to her hip. She moaned softly in her sleep and pulled his face down to hers.

Their lips met, and she moaned again, as he pressed his body into hers. He pulled her on top of him, as his hands went underneath her shirt, while she found his neck was a lovely place for her lips to kiss, as were his earlobes…

And then it came back to him; a feeling more than a memory, but it made him grab his head and stop moving in tandem with Elizabeth suddenly.

Buffy felt his abrupt stop in what had been a lovely couple of minutes. She brought her face up off his neck, "What is it?" she asked.

He looked at her, a confused, pained look in his eye.

"Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz"

They jumped at the harsh noise being emitted in pulses, "What the…?" he asked, alarmed.

"Crap! It’s the smoke detector. Crap, crap, crap," she said, jumping off him and running out to the kitchen.

The room was filled with smoke. She ran to the stove and saw the cause of it. Her rice pudding had burned down to the very bottom of the pan, and now the pan was scorching from the heat.

"Be careful!" William said, right behind her, grabbing her just as she was about to put her hand on the pan’s handle.

"You’re right," she said, getting an oven mitt.

"Let me," he said, taking it from her.

"Okay."

She turned off the stove, noting it had been past medium, rather than the low, which she’d thought she’d turned it to. Must have been the opposite side of the button with the marks on it.

"Open the door," William said, grabbing the pan’s handle with both hands, though she’d only given him one oven mitt.

She opened the porch door; then the outside door and he went out into the yard. She showed him where the water hose was attached to the tank, and he turned it on, dousing the super heated pan. He took the glove off, running his hands under the water.

"Did you burn yourself? Let me see!"

"No, I’m alright, just… guess I should've just used one hand, huh?"

She looked at the palm of his right hand, it was red.

"I’m sorry," she said, kissing the inside, as the cold water dripped down the front of her shirt off his hand.

"Ow, guess I did get burned a bit when I tried to steady the handle. Thought the mitt was covering it when I put this hand over the other one. Don’t think it’s too serious though."

"I'm so sorry William."

"Don't be, I’m fine. Really! Let’s go back in, nothing you can do about that pan, I think," he said looking down at the black-burnt inside of the pan.

"Probably not. I’m still sorry though."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Lets see, first off, I ruined the pan, because I can’t cook for crap, and secondly, because of that, your hand is burned."

"There are worse things," he said, smiling crookedly at her.

She nodded, "Yeah, guess so," she said as they walked back inside.

After disabling the still buzzing smoke detector, she checked the soup, which now had about a half inch of actual soup, piled high with a lot of vegetables.

"I really do suck at this," she said.

"Smells good," he offered, "I’m sure it’ll taste fine, too."

"Confidence, I remember confidence," she said, dishing out a bowl.

He fidgeted a bit with the spoon she’d offered him.

"Hand still hurting?"

"A bit," he admitted.

"Hold on."

She came back in a few minutes with a cool, small towel, "Here, you can wrap this around your hand, it'll probably make it feel better and you can still hold onto your spoon with your left," she said.

"I probably should anyway, seeing as I'm left-handed. It's just when I was raised, I was always reminded to eat with my right, despite being a bit different," he said, a small laugh.

Buffy smiled. Yep, that was him alright, just a bit different. She rolled her eyes at him.

The mood had lightened from earlier in the day over as they ate their dinner, laughed at her misguided attempts at ‘Easy Rice Pudding,’ and retired to the living room for the evening.

William tried to read, but his hand kept bothering him.

"Bugger!" he exclaimed, then apologized for the language.

Buffy had given up trying to tell him he didn’t always have to worry if he let a not-so-nice word slip here and there. Instead, she'd come to rather like the way he cared about how he sounded to her, or if she would be offended. Not that she was.

She brought him a small pan of cool water, with a few ice cubes, so they could refresh the towels on his hand.

They were watching some nature program on whales when he started to fidget with his hand again.

"Here, let me," she said, kneeling down in front of him, as she tried to take his hand in hers to remove the towel.

"You don’t have to do that, I’m perfectly…"

"…Capable of doing it myself, blah, blah, blah…heard it already," she said, looking up at him, "and I know you are, William. I want do this for you, okay?"

He leaned back with a sigh and let her do it. As she looked at his palm, she could only see the faintest traces of pink, which could have been just from the cooled water. However, as the evening wore on, he seemed to be having more, rather than less discomfort, so she reapplied the towel.

She went to the kitchen and got him a couple of aspirin, hoping it would take some of the pain away. Then she went into the bathroom and looked through her first aid kit. Finally, she came across a mixture of Aloe Vera and Solarcaine, which she though he might be able to use on his palm overnight to take the burn out.

When they get ready for bed, Buffy applies the ointment to his hands.

"Feel good?" she asks, as he lies back, trying to keep his hand off of the blankets.

"Yes, but it’ll get on everything."

"Not for a while, and it’ll still have time to help your skin, right?"

"Guess so."

"Wait a minute, I’ve got an idea," she says, going to the closet.

"A glove?" he asks, dismayed.

"Well, sure. The stuff will rub off a bit inside, but it’ll still be all medicine-y inside, so it might help."

William allows her to put the glove on him, wincing as they slid over his hand.

"How’s that?"

He nodded, surprised by the difference he felt, "Actually, rather feels good. Don’t exactly know why…"

Buffy smiled at him, triumphantly, "Good. That’s a good thing, doesn’t matter why."

"Thanks, Elizabeth," he said, looking at her seriously, "not just for this," he said waving his gloved fingers at her, "but for everything you’ve done, everything ever since…"

"Shhh," she answered, silencing him with a kiss. It had been such a strange day, she didn’t even want to think what he meant, what kinds of thoughts were roiling about in that head of his. "We’re together William. In it together, no matter what, okay?"

"Together," he whispered back, pulling her down on his chest, as his gloved hand stroked her back.

Reluctantly, she rose to turn off the lights, then settled back into bed, snuggling up to him.

She turned her face to kiss him. He hesitated.

"It’s alright," she murmured, "I don’t want anything, but I can make you happy," she said, as she stroked the lower part of his stomach. She could feel the heat beneath her hand, feel part of him rise up to meet her, at the same time, she could feel him shake his head. His gloved hand came down over hers.

"No, don’t, it’s just…tired…okay?"

She stopped, "Okay," she said, settling herself back next to him, trying not to feel rejected. Only partly succeeding.

He turned over, so she wouldn’t be able to see his face, his eyes, wouldn’t be able to feel how much he wanted her, wanted to have her please him.

He reached behind him, to pull her arm around him, and gives her hand a kiss, before settling it on his chest; "G'night, Elizabeth, I love you."

"I love you too, William," she says, spooning up against his back. But the words don't warm her like they should and once more, she feels alone, rather than together.

END CHAPTER 99

*The story of how Clem was formerly human, how he had gone to a famous cooking school in France, and also how he had been saved by Spike, can be found in Ch. 21 of ONE NORMAL DAY.

A couple of mornings later, William sat in the living room reading a book, as Buffy finished up the breakfast dishes. She looked in on him now and then, making sure he was alright. He seemed to be more himself that morning, both his hand, and his disposition, being better.

He’d been strangely withdrawn for the past couple of days, gently rebuffing her advances, complaining of headaches, and his hand had strangely, still been bothering him, even though she hadn’t see any evidence of redness since the first evening.

She walked into the living room, "So, how would you like to do some more driving later?" she asked, hopefully.

He looked up at her, and shook his head, "I don't think I want to drive today, if you don't mind, Elizabeth."

"No, that's alright," she said, trying to hide her disappointment; not so much about the driving itself, but of his reluctance to pursue what he’d been so gung-ho to do at first. Even Clem had called a couple of times asking if William would like to work on the car or go out driving, but he'd refused him as well.

"So, what do you want to do then?"

He shrugged, "Actually, I think I'd rather enjoy just finishing some of these books today," he said, motioning to the stack from the library, "plus I haven't written anything in quite a while. Used to spend a couple of hours a day at least doing some composing, some writing."

"Oh, then…composing? What? Music?"

He shook his head, "Just a fancy way of saying writing down my thoughts, and in some cases, composing poetry," he cleared his throat, "not that it’s any good, mind you; just something I rather like to do."

She flashed back on those poems he had left for her inside of the box that Clem had brought up to Julian, tucked into her boot, "You gave me some poems once, they were nice…they meant a lot to me."

He looked at her surprised, "I did? And you…liked them? Really?"

She nodded, "Yes. Very much."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at her, sort of a look of wonder on his face.

"Anyway," she said, shaking herself out of her reverie, "If that’s what you’re going to do, then maybe I should get out of your hair then."

A host of different emotions played through his eyes in a matter of a second, "No, I don’t want…I mean, you don’t have to do that; leave that is, not because of me in any case. But if you have somewhere to be…then I’ll understand. Then you should go."

She stood there wondering what to do, she had almost thought for a minute he wanted to say something to her, but the moment seemed to have passed. "I think I’ll go take a walk for now, get some air," she said, hesitating, "you wanna come with? Just for a while? Might be nice to get some air…"

He shook his head, "No thank you, you go though."

She quickly turned her head to hide her disappointment. She put on her shoes, grabbed a bottle of water, her iPod, and after telling William she was leaving, headed up the trail.

She walked fast, spurred on by the music in her ears, but moreso, by the frustration she felt inside.

William had finished the last chapter of the book he’d been reading, then turned his attention to writing in his notebook. He hadn’t written much since they’d been back to Julian, and he had a lot of catching up to do. The hardest had been trying to capture on paper, the despair he’d felt the last few days. He might hide it from Elizabeth, but he couldn’t hide it from himself.

He got up and checked the clock; it had been a couple of hours since Elizabeth had left. He looked outside, and saw her car was still there. Maybe she’d gone over to Clem’s. As if on cue, he saw Clem drive up, he waved, disappointed that Elizabeth wasn’t with him.

"Hey William, want to go into town with me? I need to get a few things at the store and if you want, you can practice your driving."

"Um, er, no thank you. Not today, I don’t feel up to it."

Clem looked at him, shaking his head, "You know, whatever is bothering you, you shouldn’t let it interfere with your real life, with trying to make all this," he said, pointing to the house and surrounding area, "work for you and Buffy. You deserve it, honestly, you do. So does she, after all she’s been through, after all you’ve been through."

William was quiet, thinking about what Clem had said. He had so many questions he wanted answered, but he wasn’t sure if Clem would answer them, even if he could.

He cleared his throat, "Have you seen Elizabeth today?"

Clem shook his head, "Nope, thought she was here," he answered, looking at her car.

"She went for a walk, but that was quite a while ago, so I thought she might have stopped by to talk to you."

He shook his head again, "Nope, didn’t stop by. Why don’t you go hike up the trail and look for her? I was out on the one to my house a while ago and she wasn’t there, so she’s probably on that one," he said pointing. It was the trail that had ‘their tree.’

He looked hesitant, "I don’t know. She probably just wants some time alone," he said, even though he recalled she had invited him, recalled seeing her disappointment when he didn’t accept her offer to come along, though she’d tried to hide it.

Clem looked at him evenly, "Well, maybe. But the way I see it, is that she spent the last 5 years here all by herself, making a go of it. All by herself. Alone. I’d say that if she’s up there, staying away from here, then it’s not by her own choice, exactly. Well, gotta go! Give me a call when you’re up for some more driving lessons," he said, and put the car into gear, driving off before William could challenge his statement.

William stood there trying to digest what Clem had told him. Not by her own choice exactly? What did that mean? That he’d forced her to leave? No, he hadn’t done that…hadn’t driven her away, had he? His heart felt like it was in a vise all of a sudden.

Clem drove off, but stopped when he came to the gate. He should’ve been a psychologist, with all the Spike/Buffy turmoil he’d been a confidant to over the past…what? 7 or more years. He sighed. He really ought to charge for his services; at least enough to keep him in poker kittens. He backed up the car along the road all the way to the house.

As Clem suspected, William was still standing there where he’d left him.

William looked up as Clem’s car came driving up, in reverse. Clem looked over at him, "What are you waiting for? Go get her William, go find Buffy!" he said, pointing to the trail.

William snapped out of his reverie and nodded, "I will. Thanks, mate."

Clem smiled and drove off, while William went inside to put some shoes on. He grabbed some food and a couple of cans of some drink she liked, and shoved them into his backpack, then headed over to the trail.

He didn’t think about what he was doing, until he was a few hundred yards onto the trail. Maybe he should’ve left a note of some sort; what if she came home and found him missing? She always seemed so worried about him. He thought about the nature of their relationship as he walked along. For all his talk about wanting to take care of her, it seemed it was certainly the other way around, for the most part.

He berated himself and his perceived weaknesses, as he walked along the trail.

What kind of a man was he? The kind, who has a nightmare, then turns away from the one person in the world who has ever loved him? The worst sort of man, that’s who! No not man, a bleedin’ wanker! What if she was angry with him? What if she grew tired of his weaknesses one day?

"Nightmares be damned," he vowed to himself, "Won’t let them stop me from being with her, right and proper. Won’t have them making me act all the nancy boy, instead of a man, won’t let them stop me from…" he stopped talking to himself as he found himself in front of what he was pretty sure was, ‘The Tree.’

He walked around it to make sure. There it was, the inscription he’d long ago carved, but like everything else from his life, couldn’t remember. He touched his fingertips lightly to the initials, tracing their pattern in the bark. But he did remember it from a couple of weeks ago; he smiled at the memory of what followed.

He looked next to the tree and saw a small, overgrown foot trail. If he remembered correctly, it led out to the overlook. He stopped as he emerged from it; there she was, sitting with her knees up, back towards him, headphones on her ears.

He came up behind her and knelt down, and gently put his arms around her.

When she’d first come to live here, after he was gone, when the house would get to be too much, she would come up here to this spot sometimes. She’d sit here for hours, crying, laughing, ranting, more crying. Mostly though, to talk to him, about how she felt, how much he’d meant being in her life, through good times and bad. About how she loved him, how she would never forget him, what he’d done for her, how he’d saved her and the world.

And if she closed her eyes and meditated hard enough, she would almost feel his arms around her, hear him whisper in her ear about how much he loved her, was proud of her, that she was The One. She’d imagine him urging her to go on, to not spend her time mourning him, that he’d had a long life, and that she’d made it all worthwhile.

Buffy was in this type of deep meditation when William put his arms around her.

She sighed, smiling. So, there he was again, Spike.

"I’ve missed you."

"I missed you, too Elizabeth," William whispered, kissing her hair.

It felt so real; it had been so long since she’d seen Spike, talked to him. She opened her eyes and looked back, saw his gentle smile, his light brown hair, his full lips, his…?

Wait! This was here and now, not 5 years ago.

She reached up and touched his face, "Are you real?"

He nodded solemnly, then bent over to kiss her. She turned in his arms, so that he had better access to her mouth.

She stopped looking up at him, "I really did miss you, miss this, miss us," she said, and she meant it, even though it wasn’t the Spike that she missed talking to in her mind, it was still very much a part of him that she loved.

"I know. I’m sorry, I just let things get to me, make me feel…unsure of who I am, of what I’m…I’m sorry," he said, kissing her again, "I missed this too, so much…you have no idea..."

"Yes. Yes I do. I do."

She sat sideways between his legs, curled up against him, as he held her, whispered his love and devotion into her hair.

Buffy opened her eyes and took a quick look up into the sky, "Thank you," she mouthed to whatever deity would accept her benediction, "thank you."

He let her nap a while against him, as he looked out the hundred plus miles into the desert he could see in the distance. It was a peaceful spot, but lonely, too. There was something familiar about this place, beautiful and forlorn, all at the same time. Before she’d fallen asleep, she’d murmured that she’d always felt closest to him, when he was gone, when she was up here; that she could imagine his voice comforting her. All he knew, was that if it had been him that had thought she were dead, he wouldn’t have been so strong, wouldn’t have been sitting on the overlook, he’d have thrown himself off it into the abyss, a long time ago.

He looked down at her; secure in his arms, with her golden hair against his chest, a look of peace on her face, which had been missing for the past couple of days, because of him and once more, felt guilty for what he’d put her through.

Sunshine and the warmth of his arms was the first thing she felt making her aware that she’d been napping. She smiled at the irony of those two things linked together.

"Luv? You awake?"

"Um-hmm," she said, bringing her head up to look at him.

"Been out here a good long while bet you could do with a bit of food. I brought some for you," he said, smiling down at her.

"I am feeling a bit hungry for food, but feeling hungrier for this," she said, pulling his head down to hers, "you’re my sustenance."

William groaned, kissing her back hard, and then their hands were on each other, rediscovering each other.

Clothes were quickly discarded and made into a makeshift bed on top of the rock’s hard surface.

She pulled him on top of her, and without any further waiting, he slid into her; she closed her eyes at the bliss of it for a moment, before opening them back up to stare into his blue ones.

"I missed you," she whispered to him.

"I’m right here, luv."

She shook her head, "I don’t just mean this," she said, as she arched upward, wrapping her legs around his calves, "I mean here," she said, kissing his mouth, his head, his chest, "and here."

"I know, Elizabeth, I’m so sorry, ‘fraid to hurt you, ‘fraid…love you so much, so much, with every breath, every…" he groaned, forgetting the lingering remnants of the nightmare, as he was enveloped in the sensation of her warmth, her heat, her love, their coupling.

"William," Buffy gasped, kissing him back, fiercely, possessively, "love you, missed you, don’t cut me out, alone with you…same room…love you…my…heart."

"Won’t love, promise, promise you," he whispered to her, as he took her, there under the sky, under the heavens, silently promising her and himself, once again to never leave her, never hurt her, even if it meant hiding the truth from himself.

END CHAPTER 100

CONT. CH. 101 - 105

FEEDBACK

BUY YOUR BUFFY  OR ANGEL, FIREFLY OR SERENITY  THROUGH AMAZON! FREE SHIPPING ON ANY ORDERS OVER $25. 

Sheesh! This was hard, I think the psychological impact of this being episode, er, chapter 100 must have got to me or something, because I’ve had one hell-u-va case of writer’s block the past week or so!

Glad that’s over with, at least I think so.

As for donations to the Fireman of Julian/Cuyamaca who lost their own houses while battling the fires in this area, talked to Paul Tullius at Valley Independent Bank in Julian again today. He’s given me a link to a general donation site www.julianfirehelp.com You can donate to this fund through a Paypal link on this site, but he’s also going to be providing me a link for a fund set up just for the firefigher’s soon, so check back and thanks!