Tempesta di Amore by Holly

Chapter 22

The flash of his eyes overtook her like a tidal wave, and before she could do so much as gasp his name, her cheeks were between his hands and his lips had crashed upon hers. And then the floor fell away and the walls melted, and there was nothing but them. William’s mouth moved against hers, hungry, demanding; his tongue prying her lips apart to taste every facet of her mouth. And Buffy was so stunned she could do little more than stumble back, her racing mind stuck on repeat. She seized his forearms and secured her balance, gasping when her rear collided with the buffet table along the wall. And William kept kissing her. Pouring every inch of himself into the union of their lips. When he pulled away, it was to sigh her name. When physics reminded him they needed to breathe, he would pant for air while peppering her face with sweet kisses. His hands dropped to her waist and hoisted her onto the table, anchoring himself between her legs. It was the most passionate embrace she’d ever known—the sort of thing she’d only dreamed of touching with William. With anyone. And yet, her mind was stuck. Far away. She could only think of what he’d just confessed.

The words that changed everything.

Loved Drusilla? I hated her. I hated every wretched thing about her.

Strange how nearly a year of apprehension could lift in a matter of seconds. Buffy felt like crying and cackling at the same time. The tears she’d battled all day were suddenly fresh once more, but there was no sadness. There was nothing but the accompanying bubble of laughter lodged in her throat and the tingles spreading through her skin.

William had never loved Drusilla. Never.

As though sensing the thought, his lips broke away just long enough for her to register the absence of his warmth. “Buffy,” he murmured, raising a hand to her face. “Look at me.”

She didn’t realize her eyes had fallen closed. The world fell away again the second their gazes clashed.

William smiled gently and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I love you. God help me, I love you so much.”

And then he was kissing her again. Hard. Desperate. Passionate. Demanding. He nipped at her lips, sucking her tongue between his teeth, devouring her like a man starved. It was the most wonderful moment of her life and all she could do was sit in his arms and try to keep from bawling at what he’d confessed. At how everything had changed.

William loves me. He never loved Drusilla. He loves me.

It ended as quickly as it’d begun. His mouth broke from hers with a harsh pant, his brow rubbing intimately against hers as he tried to keep from trembling. But before she could gather her wits and draw him into her again, he’d rumbled a long, resigned sigh and moved away, leaving her cold.

“It is too late, isn’t it?” he said, his eyes focused on the floor. It took a few seconds before her mind caught up with the conversation—the thing to which he’d confessed before kissing her into new life. The sin he was convinced would drive her away. “I knew it. I knew…once you knew…”

Buffy’s eyes shot wide. “Oh no. William—”

“I don’t blame you, darling. I—”

“No,” she protested, sliding off the buffet and storming forward, commanded with confidence she’d never before tasted. The nerves wracking her body were empowering rather than incapacitating. There was no losing William now—not if she fought. Not if she revealed everything. “No, I was just…you love me?”

The break of passion in his eyes served as all the answer she needed. A mixture of regret and awe which broke her for the knowledge of the reason behind it. “Oh Buffy,” he sighed, “how can I help but loving you? You’re so…so bloody pure. So genuine. You’re light personified. Just looking at you blinds me. And the fact you even have to ask…I’ve tried so hard to love you while being completely aware that there’s nothing about you I deserve. You’re everything I’m not. Everything. Having you here alone is…it’s so wonderful, but you’re so…after what I’ve done…what I…I’m beneath you. I’m so beneath you…and I’ve been so focused on that I haven’t told you how much you mean to me.” A heartbreaking pause. “You really didn’t know I loved you?”

Buffy inhaled sharply and glanced away. The desperate sincerity in his voice made her feel foolish for her assumptions, but the fears which had harvested her insides were no less authentic now that she knew the truth. As it was, she wasn’t forced to say the words. She wasn’t forced to confess. Silence did all the talking. “I thought you loved her,” she said again, small, her voice hoarse.

William shook his head heavily. “Never. Never, Buffy. I’ve always been yours. Always. Since the day you looked at me.” A heavy break. “I just don’t…I don’t deserve you.”

She was living in a parallel life, walking in a world that looked and felt like hers, but had taken such a radical turn the two couldn’t be mistaken. “How can you say you don’t deserve me? I’m not something to be deserved. I was only a paid companion before—”

“You think that matters to me?” he replied raucously. “I saw you were light and the rest didn’t matter. I wanted you. Then when we spoke…when I knew what sort of person you were…I started loving you and it’s just gotten stronger.” A hard shudder commanded his body. “But I’m…Dru ruined me. Don’t you understand? Don’t you get it? I said she was poison, and bloody hell, she was. She spread through Manderley—through me—and infected everything she touched. She’s gone now, but the darkness she left behind…” His voice lapsed to silence, his crystal eyes large and haunted. “It takes darkness to end darkness, and there’s nothing darker than ending a human life. It’s poisoned me. Made me so…what kind of man am I…”

Buffy instinctively reached for his face, her fingers dancing across his cheek. “You’re a very good man.”

He shook his head. “I don’t deserve you. I never did.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Buffy—”

“You think you can scare me away with talk of darkness? She’s gone. Even if she…whatever she did is over now.” A long breath rolled off her shoulders and she took one of his hands in hers, placing it atop her thundering heart. “I love you.”

The crack of emotion in his eyes was crushing. “Buffy—”

“I do. I love you. And if I’m light—”

“You are. God, you are.”

“Then let me take the darkness away.”

It was near impossible for someone so familiar with detachment to readily adapt to all-encompassing awe. To stand where Buffy stood now. The storm to which she’d grown accustomed had taken a drastic turn, and for a frighteningly long moment she worried he might collapse entirely. It was the most profound shift she’d ever known—the planes governing their existence had reallocated, and she saw at last how much he needed her. She felt it in his throaty breaths as his fingers gently caressed her skin. In a wondrous blink of realization, she saw herself through his eyes and felt cherished for the first time in her life.

She thought he might speak. He did not. Long seconds fell to minutes, filled with nothing but the hard echoes of their breaths. Finally, William inhaled and turned away, focusing again on the bay window. It wasn’t rejection, though when she became schooled enough to identify the difference was beyond her. All she knew was William needed her as much as she needed him, and when he turned from her, it wasn’t to run away. It was out of shame.

“Manderley has been in my family for generations,” he said at last, his voice soft. “When I was younger, it was impressed upon me the importance of property, and the wealth which would one day be mine. Manderley was so much more than a home…it was representative of everything good in my family. The knowledge I would one day be the head of the house, as my father was, was daunting…something I felt I should earn, despite the fact it would be mine no matter what.” William sighed and turned, capturing her eyes again. “It was everything to me. The happiness of my childhood, the namesake of my father…I wanted to make it as happy a place as I could when I inherited it—the way I’d known it growing up. Love was…well, I’m a poet.” A harsh laugh rumbled through his throat. “I’ve always wanted love, though I knew love was more a luxury than a necessity in the world I lived in. But I was determined. I wanted love. I had to have love in my life.”

The warmth in her heart was overbearing. She wanted to speak, but had no words, thus merely extended her hand. It was a long beat before William moved forward, insecurity and longing heavy behind his eyes. The life between them sparked and grew when he took her hand; she felt every tremor that seized his body as she led him to the settee.

“It’s okay,” she said belatedly, though only because she didn’t know what else to say. She placed his hand in her lap as they sat, an unspoken anchor of her support. Intellectually, she understood nothing was okay. Outside the walls awaited harbormasters and boats and dead bodies. Outside awaited a sea of trouble, but she didn’t want William focused on what was coming. Not now. Now, she needed them alone in the world. She needed him to believe no one could touch him so long as she held his hand.

When William nodded, though, she knew it wasn’t in accord with her words, rather a need to get the story out.

“My father was good friends with the Baylocks, and had nothing but good things to say about Drusilla. She had a way of…ensnaring people when she wanted…she made exactly the sort of impression she wanted to make. She was accomplished, intelligent, charming…everything anyone could want in a wife.” He sighed and cast his gaze downward ashamedly. “There was no courtship. I met with Dru three times before our plans to wed solidified. I thought she was…I didn’t know what love was, and I was enchanted with her. There’s no one she couldn’t enchant. She had me under her thumb with a bloody glance…and she knew it. She knew what she was doing and she did it flawlessly. We married in a whirl and set off on a honeymoon that would’ve made the Queen envious.” A significant pause. “Monte Carlo was our first stop.”

There was nothing to do but wait when he grew quiet again. Buffy rubbed her thumb over his hand in silent encouragement. She tried hard to assume patience; these things could not be forced.

“You remember the bluff,” he said absently, as though buying time. “Dru and I picnicked there on our second day as husband and wife. It was there that she told me about herself.” Once again, he fell deathly quiet, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. And without warning, every inch of him dissolved into tremors. It was not a time to intervene with words, she knew, but she couldn’t keep herself from leaning inward to brush her lips across his. The liberation with which she kissed him was intoxicating. There were no boundaries anymore. Nothing left to separate them.

“I love you,” William whispered against her heavily. “So much, Buffy. I’ve never known love like this.”

She blinked hard and offered a watery smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah…I hear you say it…but what I am—”

“I love you, too. Nothing can change that. Whatever you need to tell me is in the past.” She kissed him again. “It’s in the past, William. I’m right here.”

The look he gave her forewarned he wasn’t convinced, but likewise understood forward was the only way to go. With a jerky nod, he continued. “What she told me was enough to terrify the devil. She was dark, corrupt, conniving, deceitful, and quite adamant on remaining that way. She snacked on goodwill and scoffed at anything that commanded propriety. She was powerful and she knew it…anyone she wanted was hers. Anyone she seduced was at her mercy. She thrived on physical pleasure and sought it from anyone willing to accommodate her.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. There was no question as to what William referred, but the implication alone was enough to scandalize anyone. “Then why did she marry?” she heard herself asking, surprised but pleased to discover the butterflies which usually accompanied her questions were nowhere to be found. “If she wanted to pursue…ummm…”

William scoffed. “’Cause she was a bloody lady, wasn’t she? It’s one thing if you’re a whoring child, but people talk. And people would talk about her. Not then, of course…her father married her off before rumors could circulate. And he made sure to marry her off to me, because I looked into her eyes and thought I saw warmth. I saw what she wanted me to see.”

“I didn’t know arranged marriages existed anymore.”

“They don’t…not like you’re thinking. But marrying for money is still…” He broke off and shook his head. “That’s another thing. Dru’s family wasn’t nearly as well off as they made out to be. The whole sodding lot of them were comprised of con-artists, and they couldn’t afford her lifestyle. I could.

“She told me she would make Manderley a success. That day on the bluff, sitting on a white blanket and eating grapes like she hadn’t just…she was devastating. Manderley would be a success if she got her hands on it. A manor infamous for more than its beauty, but its warmth and hospitality…even those bloody masques she insisted on throwing. Then she grew real quiet and looked me in the eye. Said, ‘Of course, if you prefer the scandal a divorce will bring, we can always go our separate ways now.’ And she knew she had me. I couldn’t do that. Not to my family, not even to hers then…not to Manderley. We made a deal, you see. There on the bluff. Our marriage was a business contract from the beginning. She would do as she pleased…all the while we played this role of being the perfect couple. All for Manderley. It seems so ridiculous now…but at the time, holding onto this place and making it what I wanted it to be overreached my need for…everything.” William sighed. Again, he avoided her eyes. “But that was the first time I thought about it. Then. On the bluff.”

“What?”

“Killing her.” He shuddered, self-disgust splattered across his face. “The world had come crashing down around me. It wasn’t real…the thought. I didn’t think it was real. But this woman I thought I loved—God, how that sounds now—was essentially telling me how she’d conned me into marrying her…into believing she was something she was not…and how she would use me…and she had Manderley as collateral to get what she wanted because she knew how much this damned place meant to me. She’d ripped away my rose-colored glasses, and I thought, just for a minute, how easy it would be to be rid of her if I…pushed her off the bluff.” William met her eyes briefly but glanced away before she could connect with him, as though pained alone by the thought of looking at her. “I’m so…the thoughts I’ve had…the things I’ve done…”

It was instinctive. She knew nothing but to comfort him. Knew nothing except her hand needed to slide over his shoulder. Her arms needed to take him into her embrace. Her fingertips made a slow dance over the back of his neck, tenderly weaving through his brown locks and coaxing his head up just enough so she could kiss him. “I’m still here,” she promised him. “You can’t scare me.”

“I’m a horrible man, Buffy.”

“No.”

A stark, desperate laugh crackled through his lips. “You can’t make it so just by saying it.”

“Neither can you.”

“You understand what I’m saying. This isn’t something that just happened. I wanted her dead long before I killed her. I wanted her dead then. That moment.” William sighed softly. “But I didn’t kill her. I couldn’t. But it’s why I went back there. To that spot. I had to see the place where I first thought of ending it. I thought…I thought if I saw it, if I stood there, I’d understand more of myself. What these last few years had turned me into…where there was to go from…doing what I’d done.” He grinned and met her eyes again. “And then you were there, and you wanted to save me. You were so pure. So…bright…I wanted you to save me, too. If anyone could, Buffy, it was you. You just didn’t know from what.”

Her heart clenched. “I thought you were going to jump.”

A slow, meaningful nod. The pain in his eyes was nothing short of crushing. “Yeah…problem is, love, I already had. Seeing you…you gave me a lifeline.” William shifted and focused his attention on the carpet. “But that’s…that’s why I was in Monte Carlo. Dru had set up a nice little scene and handed me the script, and I played my role. Everyone thought we…I don’t even want to consider what they thought of us…the lies she planted in the heads of those who carried influence while gallivanting across the countryside with whoever she was shagging at the moment.”

Buffy worried a lip between her teeth. “Were you jealous?”

“What?”

“That she was…you know…”

William made a face. “No. No. God, no. I didn’t touch her. Not after I knew what she was…she and I…we slept in the same room to keep the servants from talking, but she was hardly here. She was either at her boathouse or in town. No, love, I didn’t care about her affairs. I cared about my family’s reputation. She was a de Winter after she married me, therefore if she was caught in…compromising situations…she’d eradicate our good name. She threw parties, spent money like it was nothing, entertained down at the boathouse…and I was bloody miserable.”

Something in his words had another dark thought bubbling to the surface. One which made her shiver with revulsion, but she knew in a blink that she had to know the answer. Buffy swallowed hard. “Did you…ummm…if she…if your marriage was…”

“A joke,” he provided.

“Did you…I…I mean, she had lovers. Did—”

“No.”

She blinked dumbly. “No? I…I hadn’t even asked—”

A wry grin stretched his lips. “You didn’t need to, love. It’s all over your face. No, Buffy. I didn’t take a mistress. I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I was married. It meant something to me.” William frowned and rolled his eyes at himself. “My logic’s all buggered. It’s not like I didn’t think about it. I knew I was entitled…I wouldn’t be betraying Dru. Hell, she told me on more than one occasion I should…relieve myself every once in a while. But I couldn’t…I don’t take vows lightly. It’s the poet in me.”

The tone in his voice indicated apology. What on earth he had for which to apologize, she had no idea. The romanticism of being faithful, even to a woman he hated? The need to uphold vows he took in a church, even if the promise between them meant nothing? William was a poet, and words were his bread and butter. If he spoke them, if he meant them, he would follow.

As it was, she couldn’t be happier he hadn’t had a mistress. Though she knew, logically, if he had taken a mistress, Buffy would never be here. Only love could have prompted William into an affair, thus he would have loved whoever he took to bed. He hadn’t fallen in love while Drusilla was alive; he’d waited until she was gone.

“It sounds absurd,” he scoffed, shaking his head at himself. “Giving a fig about adultery when I put a bullet in her.”

“William—”

“I think it was Angelus who…his…bastard was always here. Always. He and Dru played friendly for the staff, only to sneak and have a shag in the nearest available room. They loved it…the thrill of getting caught. Didn’t matter who. They’d play it innocent publicly, but figured it was at the blame of the staff if they were…spied. So they shagged loudly. And roughly. They wanted attention. They wanted me to catch them.” His eyes darkened. “I did once. Never after that. I told her I didn’t want him here again, not that it did any good…but when I was here, she’d take Angelus down to the boathouse and…” A pause. “It wasn’t just him. She tried to seduce Xander and Wesley…though I think she learned once was enough after an attack from Anya. Wesley told me straight off, and I think that’s when he knew how things were. You know Wesley, though, he’s too good to mention anything.” William sighed. “She had me imprisoned in my own home. The place that had been so wonderful…the place I wanted to make…happy…as it had been for me. There was no happiness here. Drusilla drained me of everything. She infected…everything.

“I don’t really know what sent me over, Buffy,” he whispered. “And that’s what terrifies me the most. It was nothing. It was nothing at all. Dru was supposed to be in town for the weekend, but when I arrived home from a visit at Anya and Xander’s, Mrs. Hart informed me she had returned prematurely and Angelus would be with her. They both had already relocated to the boathouse in anticipation of my arrival. I sat in my private library for a very long time, seething, drinking…hating her. Thinking about the sham of a life I’d allowed her to create for me. Thinking how I was slowly wasting away into nothing…and how bloody content she was. And then something in me just…broke. I couldn’t fathom spending the rest of my life with her…like that. With Angelus trekking the halls of my father’s house. So, after my third or fourth glass, I retrieved my shotgun and went down to the bay to confront them. The gun…I never dreamed I’d use it. I just wanted to scare them. I wanted them to know I meant it. What I had to say.”

When he grew silent again, Buffy raised his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss across his knuckles. He hesitated before gracing her with a small, sad smile. “This is where—”

“I know,” she told him.

“I can’t believe you’re still sitting here.”

“I am. And I still love you.”

William shook his head. “Can’t believe that, either.”

“The past means nothing to me,” she said again. “I didn’t know you then…I married the man that came after all this.” She offered a smile in turn and kissed his mouth. “But you…you haven’t told anyone else this, have you?”

“No.”

“Not even Wesley?”

“No. I think he knows, though. He’s always…I think he knows.”

Buffy nodded, more to herself, though, than anything. It made sense. Wesley’s pleading reassurances over the past few months were just as subject to interpretation as all the small moves she’d seen William make—the moves she’d translated as a man in mourning rather than a man consumed with guilt. It certainly explained why Wesley had insisted just a few hours ago upon driving up to Manderley to discuss her fear of William’s never-ending love for Drusilla. Perhaps he’d been ready to divulge the truth, or at least his understanding of the truth.

The next time she saw Wesley, she owed him a hug. A hug and an apology.

But for now, William needed her. William had needed her for so long; he’d simply been convicted of his own unworthiness. His assumption that needing her didn’t equate to deserving her—not after the crime he’d committed. She was determined to prove him wrong. She was with him; she was at his side, and there was nothing he could do to persuade her otherwise. Not when she knew the truth.

Not when she at last knew that he loved her.

After a long beat, William squeezed Buffy’s hand and fortified himself with a deep breath. “I found her alone when I got there. Angelus had yet to arrive. She was sitting in the dark with her back to me. She knew it was me without a word. I got to the point quickly…it was over I told her…I wanted out. I wanted a divorce. I didn’t care about our deal. I didn’t care about anything. I just wanted my life back. She stood up then and turned to me. I thought she might scream or gasp when she saw the gun, but she didn’t. She acted like it wasn’t even there.” He paused. “Looking back, it bloody figures. Dru’s unflappable. She always was. I could’ve stormed in there firing into the air and it wouldn’t’ve made an inch of difference. She always knew what to expect…and if she didn’t, she sure as hell didn’t show it.”

There was nothing to say to that. Buffy opted to nod her support and wait for him to remember himself.

“I told her I’d make sure she was taken care of,” William continued. “Divorcing her was going to be difficult enough…I thought money might make it…but she just shook her head and said, ‘There’ll be no divorce.’

“I knew she’d object but I wasn’t swayed. ‘It’s over, Dru,’ I told her. ‘Take Angelus and your things and go to town.’ But she didn’t move. She just looked at me, then at the gun, then smiled and said no one would believe it.”

Buffy blinked. “It?”

“Any cause I had for divorcing her,” he clarified. “After all, we’d played the part of the perfect couple. Everyone thought our marriage the pinnacle of modern success…how marrying for love…” He trembled at the word. “No one would ever believe she was unfaithful to me or that I wasn’t happy with her. No one would ever believe any motion for divorce. Too much time had passed and we’d never seemed anything but happy. I told her it didn’t matter. If she agreed to the divorce, I’d make sure she had enough to live as wildly as she chose until she died. But she had none of it. She wasn’t going to let go.” William sighed, and his whole body shook. “She was going to keep me trapped forever.

“Then she looked up and grinned, running her hand over her belly. ‘Wonder if I should have a child, Spike?’ she said. ‘Angelus and I are hoping for a boy. No one would ever believe he wasn’t yours. He’d grow up here, of course. At Manderley. And when you die, well, the sole heir would inherit the estate, wouldn’t he? I’d make sure he took good care of things. Might be a little looser than you with his pocketbook. We only have the one life, you know?’”

The air grew still. Clouds rolled over the sun and cast shadows through the open windows. William shook so hard it was a wonder the ground didn’t shake with him. He squeezed his eyes closed, unwilling to let her see what lay inside even if she’d promised it would never chase her away. He was perpetually caught among worlds—and God, how she was seeing it now. Every move he made, every word he whispered, every breath he inhaled was trapped somewhere between remorse and a feeling of endless inadequacy. Buffy did nothing. She didn’t calm him with words, didn’t offer him a kiss, didn’t caress his hand; he knew she was there, and what he had to say was more for him than for her. He’d lived with his ghosts too long. This wasn’t about placating her fears—this was about confession.

Still, she couldn’t help herself when he whispered, “Buffy?” His voice sounded so small. So desperate. As though he feared by her silence that she’d changed her mind.

Never. It wasn’t a possibility. She leaned forward before she could help herself and kissed his brow. “I’m here,” she told him. “I’m not leaving.”

William nodded, but she could tell he only half-believed her. “Everything went dark then,” he said softly. “Everything. She’d taken so much from me…so much I’d let her take. My freedom. My integrity. Everything I’d done since I put the ring on her finger was for Manderley. All for Manderley. I’d poured so much of myself into it…because it meant something to me. Manderley was the last thing that meant something to me. It represented everything good in my life which I’d allowed to be infected by her disease. It was my father’s house…and Dru was going to have Angelus’s child, and my father’s house would be…” He inhaled deeply. “I lost it. My eyes went black. All I could see was her. Laughing. Gloating. Her dark eyes shining, mocking me. She knew what she’d done. She knew it. And I raised the gun and shot her.”

The floor trembled with the weight of his admission. And though she’d known it was coming, Buffy couldn’t help but shiver.

“That’s it,” William said. “I put her body in her boat. It was a horrible night. Sea raging…the earth screamed around me, and all I could do was focus on getting her in the boat. I put three holes in the floor and stood by the bay as the water took it. Then I cleaned up the mess in the boathouse and…I haven’t been back there since. Not until today.”

Buffy nodded numbly, her mind racing back to the first trip to the Happy Valley. Jasper taking off for the bay, and Buffy’s mindless need to follow. William had been so angry when she returned. Demanding how she could have gone there, especially when he asked her to leave it alone. How she could venture to that portion of the property.

You wouldn’t dare…not if you had my memories.

And here they were. William’s haunted eyes overwrought, every inch of him shaking as though he’d shot Drusilla all over again. He was back there. Back at the bay. At the boathouse. He was watching the woman laugh at him, mock him, boast about the unborn child in her belly. The child which belonged to another man—a man William despised. A man who would someday hold claim to everything William held dear, if in blood alone.

“I had to leave,” he whispered, clutching her hand tighter now; like he needed to remind himself of the life he’d built in the aftermath. “Once it was over…the body that washed up…I didn’t know who it was, only it was a godsend. I said it was Dru and that was the end. And I left. I left and I found you.” He paused long enough to cast her a grateful smile, and her heart melted. “I found you where I found her, odd enough. Where I found who she really was…looking down at the place where I’d first wanted to kill her. I went there…and I saw you. And the black around me began to fade. You brought me into the light again, Buffy…but God, I’ve known all along. I’ve known I didn’t deserve you.”

“William—”

“She knew it, too.”

Buffy frowned, a spike of fear shooting through her veins. “She?”

A moment’s pause, then a short, cynical laugh huffed through his body. “Dru. Only place she lives now is in here.” He indicated his head with a tap. “You understand she’s always there. Always. Every time I look at you, she whispers how you’d hate me if you ever knew. How angels never know the devil is a gentleman until it’s too late. She’s everywhere. I thought I could escape her if I…if I proved I could actually love, that she hadn’t taken it away from me…and hearing you say you love me—”

“I do, William—”

“But you didn’t know. You could never know. You trusted yourself in the arms of a murderer.” There was a crack in his voice and for a horrible moment, she thought he might collapse in tears. “I looked at you the first night we were together. The first night I…we…you were so nervous, but you trusted me. You gave yourself to me and all I could think about was how unworthy of you I was…of the bloodstained hands that touched your perfect skin. I couldn’t look at you…God, I still can’t. Your love—”

“William—”

“And she’s always there. Always. The second I drift away, she’s waiting for me. Laughing at me. Telling me how you’ll hate me…how you could never…”

Buffy slipped from the settee and settled on her knees before him, propping herself between his legs. The hands which had held his so staunchly now came around his wrists, prying his arms down to his sides so she could see his face. “William,” she said softly, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Buffy—”

“I’ve sat here. I listened to everything, and I’m not going. I’m not leaving you. It wasn’t cold blood—”

“It was. I’d wanted her dead for so long—”

“You reacted out of anger.”

“And that’s supposed to excuse it?”

She frowned and raised her hand to his face, her fingers gently wiping his tears away. “Do evil men weep for their crimes?” she asked. “The devil doesn’t cry out of remorse, William. He cries out of selfishness and pride.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand—”

“I do.”

“I’m not sorry she’s gone, Buffy. I never have been.”

“But you are sorry you’re the one…” There was no need to finish the sentence. “William…it hasn’t been just you. She hasn’t just been with you. She’s haunted me, too. Every step of the way. Every breath I’ve taken since I came here. All I’ve heard is how wonderful she was and how happy you were and how I was just a replacement for what you couldn’t—”

“God, Buffy…”

“She’s haunted us both. But she can’t anymore. Not if we’re honest with each other.” Buffy smiled softly and rubbed her thumb across his cheek. “I love you, William. I have since Monte Carlo. Nothing can change that.”

The seconds it took to cross the bridge could fill an eternity, but by the time she reached the other side, she knew at last she was home. The brightening of his eyes couldn’t be denied, nor could the rush of pertinent understanding that finally cracked through the hardened exterior of conviction and replaced words of doubt with love. William seized her and dragged her into his arms, covering her mouth with his and engulfing her in passion she hadn’t known existed. They battled hard only to surrender without a victor. He tasted of tears, of the bay. Of cigarettes he’d smoked God-knows-when. He clutched her like she was all standing between him and Hell, and she was determined to prove to him that wherever he went, she would follow.

“I love you, too,” he gasped into her hair. “I should’ve told you every day.”

She was too familiar to the sting of tears to be taken aback, but she didn’t want to cry.

She wanted to hold him, and let him hold her. They had just ridden the storm clouds out, and for a minute, brief as it was, she felt the kiss of sunshine again.

It wouldn’t last, though. Not beyond this room.

Beyond this room awaited the hurricane. There was no telling how long they had before it hit.

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