OCTOBER 4, 2009

SATURDAY

3:00AM

The week had been pure hell.

Buffy had gone back to work on Monday, with a short explanation to Mrs. Carpello, because she felt guilty not doing so, but she’d struggled constantly to keep her mind on the present. Thank goodness, the pace of work, and the children themselves by their very natures, kept her rooted in the here and now. Still, she would find herself glancing out the windows frequently to see if she might see him driving past. The mere glimpse of a black car would make her heart start to pound. Finally, she told the kids that she had a temporary problem with her eyes, just so she could close the blinds to the outside world.

On the last day of the week, Sally, her bright, intuitive, and sometimes blunt student she’d had in her classroom for the past couple of years had come up to her asking, "Why hasn’t Mr. W. been around yet this year at all?"

"I’ll tell you later," she’d managed to say, her eyes tearing up, at the look of sincere interest and sympathy she was getting from Sally.

Other students, as well, had seemed to sense her pain in the way they would look at her from time to time, or pat her on the arm. Buffy felt immense guilt over the atmosphere of sadness she must unconsciously have been subjecting them to.

Right before the day ended, she called them over to the rug where they gathered for storiesand meetings, and spoke.

"This is a hard thing for me to tell you, as it’s very personal. And, I’m only going to speak of this once, and once only; is that clear?" she asked looking over at the children. She glanced at Lily, who nodded at her, reassuringly.

The children also nodded their heads, solemnly.

"However, I care about you, and I know you care about me, so I thought it only fair that I be honest about you. Some of you have asked me recently where William...Mr. W. has been, and why he’s not around anymore. I know that those of you that met him last year, were very fond of him," she said smiling gently at them, before continuing.

"Sometimes adults have to...have their own paths to follow for a while, and that means that they have to do so, on their own for a while. In this case, Mr. W. and I aren’t together right now, though we still love each other very much. That’s why you aren’t going to see him around for a while. That’s all I wanted to say on the subject. Oh, and I apologize if I’ve seemed sad lately. I won’t lie to you and say that it’s easy, because it’s not, but I’ll get through it; everyday all of you help me with your smiling, beautiful faces. Now, let’s get ready to go home," Buffy said, and dismissed her class.

The kids all came up to her and hugged her extra hard as they left.

"Thanks for telling us," Sally said on her way out.

Buffy nodded.

Katie echoed the same sentiments, as did all the others after her. There were also more than a handful of children who stopped to tell her about someone in their own families, who’d left home, and they got a big reassuring hug from Buffy; she knew all too well how it felt to have a parent leave.

Seemed someone was always leaving.

The last of the kids were gone, and Buffy walked back into the classroom, just as Lily was straightening up the shelves, and putting folders away.

"You did good," she told her.

"Thanks," Buffy said.

"If you ever want to talk..."

"Thanks," Buffy had replied, and let Lily give her a hug as well.

Before she left, Mrs. Carpello asked her permission to let the other teachers know that her home situation had changed, since they too had noticed William’s absence. She told her that would be alright, wishing she had the energy, or the nerve to do it herself, but she just couldn’t.

The week had been positively exhausting, lonely evenings spent driving around looking for William, and not finding him, going home defeated; jumping when the phone would ring, and depressed when it didn’t. Each night was excruciatingly long, and mostly sleepless.

Now the weekend beckoned ahead of her, and she didn’t know what else she could do, other than what she’d already been doing.

She’d come home after school, changed into her jeans, and began her nightly prowl of the streets around Julian once more. Finally, she came home.

Exhausted, she’d fallen into bed, crying herself to sleep in his pillow, only to awaken from an old nightmare in the middle of the night. She’d gotten out of bed, and called Willow.

Willow, on the other side of the Atlantic, listened to the events that Buffy laid out for her from the past two weeks.

"I don’t get it, why did he up and leave, after telling Wallace to tell you he’d be there if you wanted to talk?" she asked Buffy.

"I think he looked in my car, and when he saw all his things, just thought I’d brought them to him, because I wanted him gone," Buffy said, miserably.

"Why did you bring them, if you were going to try to talk him into coming home?"

"I brought them," Buffy explained, "because I wasn’t sure if I could talk him into coming home, and because they were things he would need. I just hoped it would be a last resort, not a first choice. Guess I’ll never know that now. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought them..."

"Buffy, you didn’t do anything wrong! William made a choice, a bad one, when he left home without facing you first. And now he’s made another bad call, to leave Edna’s, without even knowing why you came, without facing you."

"I know," Buffy said quietly, "but it’s done now, isn’t it? He’s made his choice, good or bad."

This wasn’t good, not at all. "What are you going to do? Do you need me to do anything?" Willow asked.

Buffy didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Finally, she said, "Maybe you could be angry at him for me, I just don’t have it in me..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The week had been pure hell.

After he’d hurriedly left Edna’s, he’d driven to San Marcos, and had slept in his car at the university. Although it was Sunday the next day, the library and student centers were still open. William used the facilities there to wash up as best he could, and changed his clothes in one of the stalls.

In the student center canteen, he bought a day old sandwich and a cup of soup out of one of the machines, and sat eating alone in the mostly empty room. He picked up a newspaper that had been abandoned, and tried to read it, but his mind kept wandering too much for him to take anything in. After rereading the same paragraph for the third time, without knowing what it was about, he closed the paper, and tossed it across the table from him.

"Hey," he heard a soft female voice say nearby.

His head jerked up towards the sound, but the woman, standing at the doorway was looking at one of the young men seated about five tables away from him.

"Alison, you made it!" one of the boys exclaimed, going over to her, unabashedly enveloping her in a bear hug, and kissing her on the mouth for more than a few seconds.

"Tommy, stop!" Alison said, blushing at the catcalls, hoots, calls to. ‘Get a room,’ coming from the other guys from the table.

Alison saw William looking at her, and blushed, "Sorry ‘bout that, sir," she said.

William looked away, embarrassed, feeling old and alone. Sir, she’d called him, as if he were an old, widowed uncle or something. If she had any idea of how long he’d lived, or what he’d been, she would run screaming from the room, he thought morosely.

He tried to go back to his stale sandwich, and barely warm soup, but was now distracted by the giggling coming from the table they had sat down at. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Alison sitting on Tommy’s lap, her slender body molded to his, her blonde hair falling down her back, as Tommy’s hand ran circles over her back, lower and lower...

"Hey, dude need a camera?" asked a boy with brown hair, who looked to be about 18 years old.

"Wh...what?" William asked, startled.

"I. Asked. Dude," the boy repeated slowly, as if speaking to a simpleton, "if you needed a camera?"

William’s face reddened when he got the implication, "I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare," he stammered, as he hurriedly picked up the remains of his meal and headed over to the garbage can.

The young man slowly walked over to him, blocking his way, "Well that’s good, see that you don’t anymore, understand me?"

William nodded, as he quickly walked out of the canteen. He could hear their laughter as he hurried away. "Ralph! Why’d you have to go scare him?" he heard Alison ask.

"I just don’t like some other guy getting off on my best buddy’s girlfriend, okay?"

"I don’t think he was doing that...he probably just hasn’t had any in a while," she said, laughing.

"Him? He probably hasn’t ever had any! Looks like a big loser to me!" Tommy’s extra loud voice floated down the hall after him.

Feeling humiliated like he used to, while bearing the brunt of the cruel taunts of his brother, or so-called friends, William hurried away as quickly as he could without actually running down the hall. Finding the nearest, single bathroom, he dove inside, locking it fast behind him, his heart hammering, his head pounding.

He turned away from the door, and walked over to the sink. He stared into the mirror for a long time. "What are you?" he hissed angrily at his image.

William heard the group that had been in the canteen walk by, laughing and talking, and his eyes took on a hard glint. His hands clenched, and it was all he could do to put his fist into the mirror in front of him.

After getting himself under control, he left the bathroom, making his way to the library. He breathed a sigh of relief, that the group from the canteen was nowhere in sight. He made his way to the top floor of the library to find a spot. There were two librarians at the third floor desk, one he recognized, and one he didn’t. William turned away from the desk not sure he wanted to run into someone who would recognize him.

He came to a group of chairs and couches facing the huge set of floor to ceiling windows, and sat down on the couch, after grabbing a nearby newspaper. It was the New York Times.

As he sat there staring at it, he was reminded of the first time he and Elizabeth had breakfast in bed, and read the New York and London times on a Sunday morning last summer. It had been a few days before his birthday, and she’d brought up the idea of them going to San Juan Capistrano in order to get him out of the house, so that Dawn and Clem could surprise him when they got back.

They had made having breakfast in bed, or brunch, as was the case most of the time, a ritual that they tried to do almost every Sunday. They would read the paper as they ate, just enjoying the closeness of each other’s company, trading sections of paper and bites of food, talking about this article, or that one. Eventually, they would make love with a sort of languidness, which would sometimes keep them in bed, into the early afternoon.

William closed his eyes against the pain he felt from the memories, and wondered what she was doing this Sunday morning. Would he ever be able to live a Sunday morning or look at a New York or London Times without remembering what he’d once had with her?

He spent the rest of the day in the library, until 6:00pm, when he heard the announcement over the intercom that they were getting ready to close up. Depressed about spending another night in his car, he gloomily gathered up his things, and made his way towards the exit. On the way, he stopped to use the bathroom facilities one last time; it would be a long night without simple creature comforts.

A few minutes later, one of the librarians came in to make sure the bathrooms were vacated. Not checking to see around the partition between the door and the last stall that he was occupying, she turned off the light. William was about to yell out, but then a thought came to him. What if he just stayed in the library all night?

He sat there in the dark for a long time. Finally, he rose, and slowly groped his way around the room, until he came to the door.

The library’s soft evening floodlights were the only ones on now, but he could still see fairly well.

He spent the next few hours walking around the library looking at the various collections of books. He found a whole section of poetry, and took a few of them to the nearest table under one of the soft lights.

Like him, romantic at heart, the ones he remembered and loved the most were of that nature. The poems he’d cherished and read, even those he tried in vain to write as a young man, had been the yearnings for those things he’d felt he had in his heart to give a woman. In the past year, those words of deep love and wonder had finally come to fruition for him. It pained him to see them now, still his lips moved, as he read the familiar verses he’d memorized so many years ago.

In his mind’s eye, he could see the dark green covers of his own collection of poetry books, the pages well worn from repeated readings. Yet, there had been one, by a lesser-known author, whose verses had so puzzled and troubled him, they’d drawn him back again and again, as if they’d been trying to tell him something.

He shuddered as he finished reading the poem; the words now chilling in context to what he knew about his past. Is that why he had been drawn to the poem, because of the darkness it so eloquently evoked in it’s troubling passages? Speaking to him of unknown horrors that he would soon become part?

William put the books back on the shelves. Walking back to the windows, he gazed out, his lone reflection his only company, as he looked towards the dark hills, in the direction of home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d fallen asleep on the couch, and just barely managed to escape detection the next morning, only waking when he heard the library open for the day. Luckily, the library quickly filled with students, so his having squatted for the night went unnoticed.

For the next few days, he spent most of his time driving around to nearby towns, and hanging around their local libraries and parks; both being free, and both having washroom facilities. Although he had a little more than $100 in his wallet, when Elizabeth had brought it to him, he now only had around $60, after having given Wallace $40, plus what it cost him in gas. He’d also bought a small Styrofoam cooler, which he could keep some food in, so he didn’t have to eat out every day. He also wasn’t in the mood for the company of strangers much these days.

He considered spending another night in the library, but fear of getting caught kept him from doing that. Instead, he slept in the backseat of his car in the university parking lot; each night moving his car to a different spot, between near the campus dorms and the schools, hoping the campus police wouldn’t ask him why he was there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OCTOBER 3, 2009

FRIDAY

7:30AM

Tommy squealed into the parking lot, parking haphazardly between two spots.

"That’s some messed up parking!" Ralph said.

"Dude, I’m barely walking!" Tommy said, as he staggered away from the car. "Man, I can’t believe I got classes in an hour, I am so wasted! Fuck!"

"Blow it off!"

"Can’t, missed too many already, and Wittman said if I missed anymore, he’d fail me for the semester. Fucker! My dad said he’d make me come home and work on the farm, if I flunked anymore courses. Fuck!"

"Better drink a lot of black coffee then," Ralph said, grinning.

"Yeah, that’s gonna help!"

Ralph’s eye caught sight of the DeSoto parked off by itself at the end of the row. "Cool old car, who do you think that belongs to?"

"I dunno, never saw it before."

Ralph and Tommy walked up to car and were admiring it, when they noticed someone asleep in the backseat.

"Who is that? He looks familiar," Tommy said.

"It’s that asshole from the canteen," Ralph answered, as William stirred in his sleep.

"What the fuck is he doing here?"

"Maybe he’s stalking us, or maybe he’s stalking Alison!"

"Hey you little fucker! Wake up!" Tommy yelled, banging on the top of the car.

"Wh...?" William’s eyes flew open, heart pounding, as he saw the angry faces of Tommy and Ralph, looking in at him. "What do you want?" he managed to say.

"What do we want Tommy?" Ralph asked.

"I don’t know, what do we want?" Tommy repeated.

"We want to know why the fuck you’re in our parking lot, and why you’re stalking Alison?"

William managed to sit up, pushing the blanket off of himself, "Who’s Alison? I don’t even know anybody by that name, and I’m certainly not stalking anyone! I was just...sleeping."

"I was just sleeping, I don’t know any Alison, I wasn’t stalking anyone," Ralph mocked.

Ralph looked over at Tommy, "Maybe he wasn’t stalking Alison, maybe it was you he was staring at the other day."

"The fuck?"

"Yeah, remember when we thought he was getting off on watching Alison? Maybe it was you he was getting off on; maybe he’s a queer! Maybe he’s stalking you!"

Tommy’s face turned beat red, "Get the fuck out of the car!" he yelled through the window.

William shook his head.

"Faggot!" Tommy yelled, bringing his fist down on the top of the roof of the car again.

"I’m not a...and I wasn’t stalking anyone, I was just sleeping," William stammered.

"Why were you sleeping in your car? HERE?"

William just shook his head, looking down.

"Your boyfriend kick you out?"

Ralph spotted a large piece of broken cement, and picked it up, handing it to Tommy with a nod.

Tommy held up the piece of cement, showing it to William, "Either you get out of the fucking car, or we’re coming in!"

William looked around at something he could use to defend himself, but there was nothing within reach.

"Now, asshole!" Tommy yelled, smashing the piece of cement into the window nearest William, not hard enough to break it, but causing a spider web of cracks to appear.

"Okay, okay," William said, as he unlocked the door, and opened it with a feeling of helplessness that made him ashamed.

Rough hands, pulled him out, and threw him against the car, "Talk, why are you out camped out in our dorm’s parking lot?"

William looked at the two men. Both were probably almost ten years younger, taller, stronger, and more athletically built than him. In his mind’s eye, he could almost envision them in another century, the type that always made sport of him. Not physically, once he was older, but the results were nearly the same, his shame and humiliation; and to the victors, went the spoils.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7:35AM

Professor Wittman turned into the campus, taking a shortcut behind the student housing. He was earlier than usual today, but he had to give his lesson plans to one of his colleagues, who had agreed to take over his morning classes. He glanced down at his watch. Just barely enough time to write them up, then pick up his wife for her doctor’s appointment at Scripps Medical Center in La Jolla.

As he made a right turn to cut through the parking lot of Harrington House, he saw a couple of men hitting another, smaller man, who had just crumpled onto the ground. He pulled his car up, and jumped out, grabbing a small retractable club he kept with him ever since he and his wife were mugged a couple of years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, talk faggot, before we get a little rough!" Tommy said, his breath reeking of alcohol.

"Maybe he likes it a little rough," Ralph sneered from the other side, "isn’t that how you faggots like it?"

"I’m not a...I’m not," he said, eyes downcast. Why should he tell them why he was there? What difference could it make to offer up any explanation?

"Well?" Ralph demanded, his face only inches away from his.

William looked up bravely, "I’m not giving you anything, explanation, or otherwise."

The first punch to the stomach knocked the wind out of William, and he doubled up, his hands automatically going to his middle, at the same time Tommy stepped forward, punching William in the face, knocking William back against the car. He slumped to the ground, as they continued to hit and kick him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Stop that! Get off him, this instant!" Professor Wittman yelled, brandishing the club to use if necessary.

The two men stopped for a moment, ready to ignore the intruder, or give him a beating as well, when they recognized the professor.

"William! Sweet Jesus, are you alright?" Professor Wittman pushed forward, kneeling down by William and helping him into a sitting position.

"Mr. Smith, Mr. Hauer, what were you doing to him?" Professor Wittman demanded, recognizing them as well.

"This asshole was out here stalking Tommy’s girlfriend," Ralph answered, breathing heavily.

"I highly doubt that," Professor Wittman said, disgust in his voice, as he turned back to William.

"What happened?" he asked softly, noticing not only the cuts and bruises William had just suffered, but his general disheveled appearance, too.

"Ask him why he’s sleeping out here in his car, in front of Alison’s dorm then?" Tommy interrupted before William could say anything.

Professor Wittman looked at William quizzically, but before he could ask him anything, the campus police pulled up, sirens blaring, followed by an ambulance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

William reluctantly answered the questions of the campus police, while a medic checked out his face and ribs. A gash over his left eyebrow was attended to, and the bleeding stopped by an application of liquid stitches. He declined going to the campus clinic or nearby hospital.

Although he refused to press charges against Tommy and Ralph, the police filed them on his behalf. William just wanted the whole humiliating nightmare to be over.

Before being taken to the campus police station, Tommy asked the officer if he could talk to the professor for moment.

"Make it quick," the officer warned.

"Um...Professor Wittman?"

Professor Wittman was standing by William when he heard his name. He turned around, "What is it Mr. Smith?"

"I was wondering if I could possibly ask you to not count me absent this morning, er...due to the circumstances."

"Let me get this right; you want me to excuse your absence from my class because you started an altercation with an innocent man?" Professor Wittman said, disbelieving.

"He’s not so innocent," Tommy said, defiantly.

"Unbelievable," he said, looking over at William. "No Mr. Smith, I’m afraid I can’t do that."

"That’s not fair! You know I would’ve been in class, if I didn’t have to go down to the station!"

"Fair? You have the audacity to talk about fair...even if that were so; I would’ve asked you to leave my classroom the moment you walked in smelling like a brewery. I’m afraid you made your bed, and now you have to lie in it."

"You’re out of the class, Mr. Smith, both you and Mr. Hauer. Feel free, however, to take it again next semester. Preferably with another professor," he said, and with that, turned back towards William.

"You’ll regret that," Tommy said softly, under his breath.

"That’s enough," the officer said, grabbing Tommy’s arm.

He then turned to the professor; "Did he just threaten you? Because if he did, I can add that to the charges of harassment, assault, public drunkenness, and property damage, as well."

Professor Wittman shook his head, "Just get him out of here; get them both out of here."

The small crowd, which had gathered when the police and ambulance had arrived, started to disperse by the time they pulled away with the two boys.

"Do you want me to call Elizabeth for you?" Professor Wittman gently asked William, who was now standing by his car, looking at the damaged window.

"No," William answered, a bit too quickly, "I’ll be alright."

Professor Wittman pondered William for a moment, "William? If you don’t mind my asking, why were you sleeping in your car out here?"

William slumped into the front seat, wincing as he did from his bruised ribs. "I don’t have anywhere else to go," he said.

"You and Elizabeth aren’t together?" he asked, shocked.

William shook his head, his eyes looking somewhere in the vicinity of his feet.

"Did this have something to do with the young lady Mr. Smith mentioned?" Professor Wittman asked, trying to make sense of the situation. He knew how much William adored Elizabeth; he’d spoken so lovingly of her, how they were planning on marrying, even. Though he wasn’t privy to their private affairs, he just couldn’t fathom what could have precipitated this drastic change in William’s situation.

William’s head shot up, "God no! I don’t even know the young lady. I just saw her with those boys last Sunday in the canteen. I think I might have been staring at them, when her and the one who talked to you, the one called Tommy, were kissing."

"I was only looking at her, because her blonde hair reminded me of...Elizabeth," he said, eyes averted from those of the professor’s. "The other chap took offence to what he perceived was my staring; he said some things, and that was that. I left the canteen, and never saw any of them again, until this morning, that is," he added, ruefully.

"And you’ve been sleeping in your car since then?"

William nodded, "Well, one night I did sleep in the library."

The professor arched his eyebrows.

"Don’t ask."

"I won’t," he laughed softly, eliciting a small smile from William, as well.

"I don’t wish to pry, but in all seriousness, why didn’t you stay in a motel, or with a friend?"

William closed his eyes for a moment, realizing once more, how truly pathetic his situation was. "I didn’t have enough money to stay someplace. As for friends," he said, sighing, "I don’t really have any." Not anymore, he thought miserably to himself.

"What about that fellow that you mentioned before? The one who lived near you?"

William shook his head, a small, mirthless laugh escaping.

"Could you excuse me for a moment, William?"

William shrugged.

"Just stay there, I’ll be right back," he said, walking off to his car. He picked up his cell phone from the passenger seat, and made a phone call.

Professor Wittman returned in a few minutes, having called both his wife, and the Lit department, asking if they would just assign someone to take over his class, and telling them where his notes were; it would have to do for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OCTOBER 4, 2009

SATURDAY

3:00AM

William turned away from the window to once again look around the apartment, that he was supposed to now consider home. The very apartment, which he had helped to clean a couple of days before him and Elizabeth, were supposed to leave on vacation.

That was the last full day he could claim innocence of the former life he’d lead. Innocence and ignorance not just about himself, but of the evil in the world. Up until that point, he’d only known of it intellectually, not intimately. Or so he’d thought. Dru had seen to it, to correct that little omission, that tiny bit of truth, which Elizabeth had tried to hide from him.

Professor Wittman had brought him back to his house that morning. Despite William’s protestations that he hadn’t the money for rent, and didn’t want to take their charity, the professor and his wife Ingrid, had insisted that he stay in the apartment above the garage for as long as he liked.

"I don’t think you’re in any shape to argue right now, young man," Ingrid had gently said to him. Reluctantly, he’d agreed to stay for a couple of days, until he could come up with something.

At least for now he had a bed to sleep in, a place to feel safe.

He laughed bitterly, at the thought. His hands clenching into fists as he thought of his meekness in the face of bullies both past and present, and over his being victimized by Dru. His rage and sorrow was further fueled, when he thought of the lies he’d been fed like so much pabulum by Elizabeth and the lot of them, pretending to be his friends.

Angrily, William kicked at a chair, sending it careening into the far wall of the living room before it toppled over. Holding himself in check, before further destroying something in the apartment that didn’t belong to him, he paced the rooms like a caged animal, before his emotions were finally spent.

Walking into the bedroom, he looked around at the bleak space. The only thing that remained was a mattress and box spring lying up against the wall, and a broken blind on the window. He pulled the box spring over to the middle of the room, against the wall opposite the door, and set it down, then repeated the same with the mattress. He grimaced in disgust at the stains on the mattress, and turned it over. The other side wasn't much better, but it would have to do. He covered the dirty mattress with a set of clean sheets Ingrid had brought him earlier. She'd also brought him a blanket and pillows from the house. He put the blanket on the bed, then lay his own on top of that. The pillows he didn't use at all, preferring his own. A small lamp on the kitchen counter was put into service next to his bed, an upended carton, as a night table.

He picked up the chair he had kicked earlier, into the bedroom, and put his clothes on it.

"Crap," he said, hearing things falling out of his pants pockets, as he laid them over the chair's back. Squatting down, he picked up change, some odds and ends, and more importantly, Elizabeth's necklace and ring, grateful, that in the midst of all that had happened to him that day, it hadn't fallen out of his pocket and been lost forever. Carefully, he set it on the night table box next to his bed, before lying down.

Unbidden tears sprung to his eyes, as he smelled the unmistakable scent of her. Since first laying his head on the pillows Elizabeth had brought him, he'd realized one of them was hers. He'd pondered how she could have gotten the two mixed up, as the pillowcases had been different. Yet, when he received them, they were the same matching ones that had been on his bed, before he’d left.

Had she washed both sets, and that’s how they got switched? Unlikely, as the smell of the lotion that she used before bedtime, (which was called pear, but smelled like honey) was still very much in evidence. If it was intentional, then why?

Tired of thinking, William lay his head down on his own pillow, while burying his face into hers, trying in vain to find comfort in her lingering scent, where there was no longer any comfort to be had.

* The House of Night by Philip Freneau (1752-1832)

END CHAPTER 159

8-20-04 HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAMES UPDATE!

A/N Thanks as always to my beta Judy, who keeps me going when I get bogged down!

Next chapter, think William will find his stones (for those of you who have been wondering where those have been of late) and perhaps something in a long, black duster as well as some bleach.

CHAPTER 160 – CH...CH...CH....CHANGES

OCTOBER 8, 2009

WEDNESDAY

10:00AM

William knocked softly on the big oaken door, and waited. Momentarily, it opened.

"Hello, William," Shirley said, nodding for him to enter, and noting that he looked much thinner since she’d last seen him. Of course, Lawrence had told her what he knew of Elizabeth and William’s split. "Come in."

"Thank you," he said, stepping over the threshold.

"Have a seat in the living room, and I’ll let Lawrence know that you’re here."

While he waited, Shirley brought him a cup of tea, and a plate of cookies was placed in front of him. She nodded encouragement to him, so he picked one up, unable to resist.

"You like those?"

"Very much," he said his mouth full.

"It’s almond-oatmeal. I made them myself."

"Really, really good," he said, meaning it.

"William! I see Shirley has you sampling her wares," he said smiling, as he came into the room.

William nodded then stood up, wiping his hands on the napkin first, before extending it to Lawrence, "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"No problem. Why don’t we go to my office, where we can be more comfortable?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

William shifted uncomfortably in the seat in front of Lawrence’s desk, as he waited for him to come back with some forms for him to sign. Closing his eyes for a moment, he thought back to the last couple of days, which had finally brought him here.

For the first two days, William didn’t leave the apartment, and although he wasn’t sure how long he wanted to stay there, it did afford him a place to sleep, to think things over, a place to call home for now. However, he couldn’t just take the Wittman’s charity without recompense. He also knew he wouldn’t call up Elizabeth, and just ask her for their account numbers. She’d done enough for him; he wouldn’t trouble her this way. Fortunately for him, the duffel bag she’d packed, also had contained his address book, which is how he came to call Lawrence.

William’s eyes flew open, and he sat up straighter as Lawrence entered the room. Settling himself behind his desk, he nodded to William, then handed him a folder; "Please take your time reading this over. If it meets with your approval, I’ll need you to sign on the bottom of pages two and four, and initial it on pages three, and five.

William reached into his breast pocket of his shirt, and discreetly put on his glasses before starting to read the document. He asked Lawrence to clarify a few points; then picked up the pen to sign.

"Are you sure I can’t talk you out of doing this?" Lawrence asked.

William shook his head, as he signed the ‘Quit Claim,’ to his share of the house over to Elizabeth, and half his investments. He’d only let Lawrence talk him into keeping that much, after Lawrence had agreed to draft yet another ‘Last Will & Testament,’ leaving the balance to her in case something happened to him.

"So, it’s legal now?"

"As soon as she signs it as well," Lawrence said. He had done it in such a way, that William couldn’t just sign it over completely, if she didn’t agree to it.

"I don’t know why I just can’t give her my share of the house," William said, again. "Isn’t it my right?"

"I’m sorry, it’s just the way it is," Lawrence said, shrugging. "For the record, William, I don’t agree with what you’re doing. For one thing, you and Elizabeth may get back together, and this will just cause more, unnecessary paperwork for both of you, and the courts if that’s the case. Secondly...I know you don’t want to hear this, but by all rights, the house was yours to begin with, for many, many more years than it was Elizabeth’s. The only reason it was in her name was that we all presumed you were dead. Obviously, that’s not the...

"NO! She...she deserves to have it, more than I ever did. This is my decision!" he said, his voice rising a bit. William wondered what Lawrence would think if he knew that he’d actually been dead, or undead, as it were, for all the years the house had been solely in his name.

"I’m sorry William, I didn’t mean to upset you."

"You haven’t, and I apologize for raising my voice. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, Lawrence. I just...I need to do this. I want Elizabeth to have the house; it’s the least I can do for her," he said looking up at Lawrence in hopes of seeing some understanding.

Lawrence nodded, "Very well. Now, if you’ll just sign these other forms, you’ll be able to have this money put into bank accounts, which you can then access for your own use..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OCTOBER 9, 2008

THURSDAY

4:30PM

"...and make sure that you get the permission forms back from the kids by early next week. The volunteer nurses will be here next Wednesday to immunize everyone, but they can’t do it unless they have a permission slip. I just got back from a meeting earlier today, and I’d like to also tell you that I’d highly recommend that you get one. The CDC is tracking this particular virulent flu, and it promises to be the worse we’ve seen in over 50 years. In China, a half million people have already died from it."

Heads shot up, "A half million?" Marilyn asked. "Why didn’t we hear about this?"

"I don’t know," answered Mrs. Carpello, shaking her head. "I think part of it might be that China keeps things like this hush-hush, so as to not deter the tourists, which has become a huge industry in China over the past ten years."

"I thought I read once, that most strains of flu start there, right?" Lily asked.

"Right, it usually does. Something about the conditions of the rural Chinese living in close proximity to their pigs and ducks helps create the conditions for strains of flu to develop. I can’t remember the details. The problem is that by the time a strain is identified by the CDC, it might be another 6 months to a year before it reaches here, which means that it can be altered by then, making the flu shots not as effective, or obsolete," Mrs. Carpello said. "Still, we’ll hedge our bets, with what we are offered, and hope for the best."

Buffy had sat through the meeting, trying to pay attention to the important parts, trying to look like she was interested in the others. Truth was, her mind kept coming back to worrying about William. It had been almost three weeks since she’d left him for Dawns. Two weeks tonight since she’d talked to him from there.

She had just pulled out of the school’s parking lot, when the phone rang. Her heart leapt; it was the time that William usually had called her at the end of her day. She pulled out her cell and looked at the number. Her heart sank; it wasn’t William’s. It was, however vaguely familiar.

"Hello?"

"Elizabeth?" asked a male voice.

"Who is this?"

"I’m sorry, Elizabeth. It’s Lawrence; I’m calling about William."

"What about him? Is he okay? Is he hurt?"

"He’s okay, he’s not hurt. In fact, he came to see me a couple of days ago."

"William came to see you?"

"Yes, he asked after you."

"He asked after me?" she repeated, unable to process this unexpected news.

"Yes, he wanted to know if I’d seen you recently, and how you were. I told him I’d only seen you briefly at mother’s the other week."

"I see," she said, but she didn’t.

"Um...that’s the reason for my call, there’s some things I need to talk to you about, but not over the phone. Do you suppose you might come down to the office, or should I come up to Julian, if you can’t get away?"

"I’ll come down," she said, as she headed for the highway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OCTOBER 9, 2009

THURSDAY

6:30PM

SAN DIEGO

"Repeat that again please, Lawrence. Just so I can get this straight," Buffy said, disbelieving.

"This is the ‘Quit Claim’ to the house, which William has signed. Since you hold it jointly, you also have to sign this, to make it legal."

"So, I sign this, and the house is just in my name alone again, is that it?"

Lawrence nodded.

Buffy sat back in the chair, looking him in the eye; "I’ll do no such thing! I don’t want the house! In fact, why don’t you draw up the same papers, and ask him if he’ll sign them?"

Lawrence inhaled. Somehow he knew this wasn’t going to be easy, "You mean, you want to execute your own ‘Quit Claim’ to the house, and have William sign off on it?"

"That’s right. He can have the fu...freakin’ house if he wants it!"

"Elizabeth, do you want to know what I honestly think?"

"Let’s have it," she said, tersely.

"First of all, it’s unethical for me to be a lawyer to both of you, if you’re going to be on opposite sides of some legal issue. As much as I like and respect you, I was William's lawyer for years before he went missing, and his father’s before that. So, I think that if it comes to that, I’d have to advise you to seek other counsel."

Buffy nodded. "I agree. You were his lawyer first, and you should stay his. He doesn’t...he doesn’t have any familiar people around him right now that he can count on."

"Secondly," he continued, "I did tell William, that for the record, I disagree with his doing this at all; giving up his claim to the house. He got quite irate with me, and insisted that you should be the one to keep the house."

"Idiot," Buffy said softly.

"Lastly, and here’s where I’m taking off my lawyer hat, and donning my friend one, I think William believes that what he’s doing is in your best interest. I know you’re angry with him, and hurt...but he’s not doing this out of malice. I know that much, so I don’t know what it would accomplish for you to do your own ‘Quit Claim’ except to exacerbate the situation."

Buffy shook her head, "So, what am I supposed to do then?"

"Legally? Nothing, unless you’re served these papers by the court, then you’re not obligated to come forward to sign them," he said, as a small smile played across his face.

Buffy quirked a smile of her own at him, as she sat back, "You knew that, didn’t you?"

Lawrence shrugged, "I knew that I could buy some time for you both this way, before something became permanent, and then knowing you both as I do, I’d probably have to go and change it again next month. Still, if he ever seeks another attorney, he’ll find out."

"I don’t think he’d do that."

"I don’t either. Also, if he becomes persistent, I’ll have no choice, but to serve you the papers, if you don’t voluntarily sign them. You understand that, right?"

"I do. Thank you for what you did. Or rather, what you didn’t do."

Lawrence nodded, "Legally, it may not have been the most ethical thing I’ve ever done," he said, smiling ruefully, as he remembered a few other, not-quite-legal things he’d done for them, at her or his mother’s bequest, "but hopefully, it’ll buy you some time

"How was he? How did he look to you?"

Lawrence thought about it for a minute, "He seemed sad, but resolute, if you know what I mean. He looks like he lost weight."

"He did? How much?"

"I don’t know, Elizabeth. I didn’t mean to say he looked like he was starving, just thinner. It’s common for people who break up to lose weight," he said, noting that she had, too.

"Yeah. Other than that though, he seemed okay?"

"As far as I could tell."

"I don’t know if I’m not supposed to ask you this, but as a friend, not a client...did he say where he was staying?"

Lawrence shook his head; "I was remiss at not asking him. Guess it slipped my mind since I didn’t need to send him anything by mail right now."

Buffy sighed, "It’s okay."

"I’ll let you know, if I find out, though."

"I’m hoping he’ll let me know soon, himself," she said, as she rose to leave.

"I’m sure he will Elizabeth," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

Shirley joined Lawrence at the door, as they said their good-byes, insisting Buffy take a container full of the same cookies she’d given to William a few days ago.

"Thanks," Buffy said, accepting the container, then waving to her when she got into her car.

"Such a shame, such a shame," Shirley said, sniffling.

Lawrence didn’t reply, just put his arm around her reassuringly.

In all his years on this earth, and as an attorney, he’d become pretty good at predicting which couples would make it, and which would eventually end up on opposite sides of a courtroom. Although, like his father before him, William had been his most mysterious client, he’d sensed as far as Elizabeth went, she’d been the one and only woman for him. Apparently, her feelings for him were just as deep.

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure how they’d gone from so close, to this chasm between them now, and each of them seeming just as confused by it as he was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OCTOBER 10, 2009

FRIDAY

9:00AM

"Well Charley boy, guess it’s just you and me," William said, petting the large, 12-year old, striped tabby, which he’d been given charge of, when unexpectedly, Professor Wittman had to take his wife to Mayo Clinic for a week. The cat purred in response, as he rubbed against William’s leg, anticipating food.

After leaving Lawrence’s house the other day, he’d gone directly to the bank, opening new accounts. He’d then asked the Wittman’s if they would rent the apartment to him.

They’d been reluctant to accept his money. Though deeply embarrassed, he explained to them he’d merely forgotten he had investments, because of the

‘memory loss,’ he’d suffered, and due to the recent events. He assured them that he was quite able to pay them whatever they would like to charge.

"I’ll try to make sure you get fed on time tomorrow," he told the cat, who was now impatiently meowing as he waited for William to get his canned food opened and into his bowl.

William carefully put the tiny white pill into the food like Ingrid had showed him, and made sure that the cat didn’t spit it out. He could swear after that bite, the cat had given him a dirty look.

"Smart one, aren’t you? Not going to hold a grudge there, are you?" he asked, petting the cat’s back. He grinned as the cat arched its back in response, purring.

"Good to know I’m forgiven Charley," he said, adding, "even if only by you."

After feeding the cat, he went back up to the apartment and made out a list of things he needed, if he was going to be living there to make it more...

"More what? More like a home?" he asked himself, pausing as he looked up from his list.

"No, it will never be that, will it?" he said, tensing up, as the pain returned in sharp, vivid contrast to his bland surroundings. Neither, did he care; despite what he might buy to fill it, it would never be a home, only a place to live. Resolutely, he steeled himself to finish the list.

William shivered in the cool fall air as he walked out to his car, making a mental note to also buy some warmer clothes, while out. His sweaters and jackets had been left back at the house, in his haste to leave before Elizabeth had returned. Although he could go there while she was at work and retrieve them, or call and let her know he would be coming by, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It just didn’t seem right somehow; better that he just stay away from her, for both their sakes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He spent the better part of the day purchasing what he needed; then stopped at the local thrift store to look at some used furniture, which he arranged to have delivered the next morning. He also found a few sweaters for himself, plus a good deal on a short, brown leather jacket. Living with Elizabeth for a year had certainly honed his sense of bargain hunting skills, which he appreciated. He was still shocked at the cost of things today, considering the last time he’d truly remembered paying for anything had been over one hundred twenty five years ago!

On his way home, he remembered that he had forgotten to buy a new razor, and stopped at a nearby drug store. Looking over the brands, he tried to remember which his was, there were so many. Finally, spotting the familiar packaging, he started towards the front of the store. As he walked towards the front, he passed through the aisle of hair products. He stopped abruptly, as a picture on one of the boxes caught his eye. It was of a young man sporting very bleached blonde, almost white hair, reminding him of the pictures of himself, which he’d drawn. Picking it up, he looked at the before and after pictures of the originally dark haired man, looking very serious in the before picture, joyous and younger in the after picture, with the injunction - Be a BBB BleachBlondeBabe!

"Yeah, right," he mumbled, shaking his head to clear it, and started to put it back, but his fingers seemed to not cooperate as they held onto the box, just short of setting it on the shelf.

Standing there for another few minutes, unable to decide, he finally just took the box up to the register, along with the razor, assuring himself he wasn’t really seriously considering bleaching his hair. No, it was just because he felt self-conscious standing there, staring at a stupid box; he could always return it, unused. To his relief, the girl at the register didn’t even glance at the product, or at him, as she rang him up.

On the spur of the moment, he stopped and made one final purchase before going home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

10:00PM

After feeding Charley, his evening meal, William had returned to his apartment, hooking up the laptop which the Wittman’s had offered him use of, while he was there. They’d assured him that it wasn’t one they needed, or used anymore, but perfectly good for writing, working, or using the Internet.

He sat crosslegged on the floor, back against the beat-up couch, with the laptop sitting on an upended plastic crate that he’d found on the floor of the closet.

Next to him, was the last thing he’d bought that day - a pint of Jack Daniels.

William felt inept, as the mouse ran all over the screen, just as it had when he’d first learned to use a computer. Finally, he managed a bit of finesse, and after trying a few different combinations, remembered his password, and logged onto the Internet. Out of habit the first thing he looked at was his email. There were only a few new ones, the rest mostly junk mail.

The one that caught his eye though had been written over a month ago from Dawn.

She had seen him the following week, too. Only not how either of them had envisioned.

His hands shook slightly, as he uncapped the bottle of Jack Daniels, and took a swallow. A coughing fit followed. William got up and went into the kitchen, drinking some water, to calm the burning in his throat and stomach. He then filled a glass with ice, and brought that with him. He poured a couple of shots worth of Jack into that, and then added some water from a bottle.

"Much better," he said, sampling it.

Taking a deep breath, and another drink of liquid courage he typed, "Vampires, a history of," into the Google search engine, and started reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

11:00PM

Los Angeles

"John, come here!" Dawn yelled towards the bedroom.

"What is it?" he asked, as he walked towards the desk where Dawn was busy doing a research paper for her Ancient Artifacts from Pre-Columbian Times class.

"It’s William, he’s online."

"He’s online? He’s not home, though, right?"

Dawn shook her head, "No, I just talked to Buffy today. She hasn’t heard anything from him for a few weeks now, unless he came home today, but I doubt it. Besides, if he had, I don’t think he’d be on the computer the first night he was home."

"So, are you going to IM him?" John asked.

She looked at him, "You think I should? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if I say something and it upsets him? What if...?"

"Dawn!"

"Sorry," she said, "I just don’t know what to say to him."

"You could start with hello."

Dawn nodded, "Yeah, that’ll work."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

11:00PM

SAN MARCOS

William had been reading for an hour, and startled when the computer beeped at him, then saw the IM window pop up.

He hesitated, feeling suddenly like a deer caught in the headlights.

"It’s him," she said turning to John. Now it was her turn to feel awkward.

"Well, say something back!" John urged.

Dawn turned to John, "What else should I say? Should I ask him where he is? Crap, I don’t know what to say to him!"

"Say something! You want me to call Buffy while you’ve got him online?"

"Buffy? Yeah! Wait, no. I don’t know."

Dawn waited for him to answer, looking back and forth between John and the computer screen.

His smile was bittersweet, as he acknowledged Dawn’s ability to cut to the chase.

William took a long drink, directly from the bottle this time; savoring the distraction, as each harsh molecule of the liquor burned its way down his throat.

"Dawn!" John said. "You think that’s a good idea to tell him that?"

"I don’t care, he’s being an idiot! I’m not good enough, blah, blah, blah...all the while Buffy’s sitting at home with her heart breaking."

"His is, too," John said, gently.

"Looks like he’s doing fine from here!" she said, stubbornly.

"What the...? Bloody hell!" William said, staring at the screen.

<><><><><>

Dawn watched as William’s name disappeared from her online IM Buddy’s list.

"Shit!" she said. "Shit!"

John shook his head, and put his arms around her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

William staggered to his feet, bottle clutched in his hand as he angrily staring at the computer.

"Coward, am I?" he said, as he paced back and forth.

He walked into the bathroom, and looked at himself in the mirror, "Show you who’s a coward..." he said, as he slammed the bottle down on the sink...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OCTOBER 11, 2009

SATURDAY

9:00AM

"Oh God!" William moaned as he awoke to pounding; both the internal pounding of a hangover that would’ve brought an elephant to its knees, and the external pounding of someone at his door.

Half falling out of bed, he grabbed his pants and pulled them on, then a T-shirt, which had odd streaks and spots of white all over it. He looked at it strangely, but didn’t have time to wonder what happened.

"I’m coming," he yelled as he came out of the bedroom, then immediately wished he hadn’t, as his own voice made his head pound like a kettle drum.

He opened the door, recognizing the deliverymen from the thrift store, who stood there staring at him with a strange look on his face.

"Um, does William Worthington live here? I’ve got a delivery for him."

"Yeah, that’s me. We met at the store yesterday."

The man looked at him closer, "Oh yeah, okay. You look a bit different."

"Rough night," William said, sheepishly.

The man raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything, other than asking William to sign the delivery form, then went downstairs to help the other man carry up the furniture.

After the men left, he went into the kitchen, and gulped down half a bottle of water, took three aspirin, then finished the bottle off. The two-thirds drank pint of Jack Daniels was on the counter. He debated whether or not to discard the remainder in the sink, but instead just put it on the top shelf of one of the mostly empty cabinets.

Suddenly, the water hit him, and the realization of not having yet used the bathroom that morning. He practically slipped over a pile of towels on his way in the door, and as he stood there, realized that the towels had the same strange white markings, as did his shirt.

He kicked the towels out of the way, in order to wash his hands at the sink, and as he did, he looked in the mirror.

Shocked, he stumbled back, nearly landing in the tub had he not grabbed onto the side of the wall just in time.

With some effort, he righted himself, then once more looked in the mirror.

Staring back out at William, with newly bleached, platinum white hair was Spike.

"Oh, bloody hell!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OCTOBER 11, 2009

SATURDAY

NOON

Buffy stared at herself in the mirror, wincing at the image she saw looking back. Her eyes looked dull, with bags underneath them; yesterday’s eye makeup half off, half on her face. Her hair looked wild and matted.

"Bed head," she mumbled, remembering a time when she would’ve been fondly embarrassed by the look that had been caused by her and William’s lovemaking.

Except, then her eyes danced with life; not look like this.

She stopped her self-criticism for a moment, and listened. There it was again, a soft knocking. Heart quickening, she quickly brushed back her hair with her fingers, and grabbed a robe, then hurried to the door.

"Hi Buffy," Clem said sheepishly, holding out a pot of soup, as the door was flung open.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy sat across from him at the table, like they’d done so many times throughout the years. This time it felt more like when she’d first come to Julian, and Clem had been there to advise her on so many aspects of living out there, as well as lending her his ample shoulders to cry and lean on.

"I sort of figured something was going down with you two," Clem said, firmly motioning for Buffy to eat another bite of the clam chowder he’d brought over. "I saw William hightailing it down the road a couple of weeks ago, and I never saw him return, though I wasn’t around for a few days."

"He’s left," she replied softly.

"I’m so sorry, Buffy. I should’ve come over sooner, I..."

"It’s alright," she said, reaching across the table and patting his hand, "you didn’t know, plus I know things between us haven’t been exactly..." she looked into his eyes, and shook her head sadly.

"It’s not your fault, Buffy. Heck, it’s not anyone’s fault. William couldn’t help the way he felt about me, after what happened to him," he said, with a shrug.

"Spike wouldn’t have felt that way," she said, a hint of defiance in her tone.

"No, he wouldn’t have," Clem said, looking at her sadly, "but we’re not dealing with Spike anymore, are we?"

She shook her head.

"Do you miss him?" Clem asked.

"Of course I miss him, everyday I...oh, you mean Spike specifically don’t you?" she asked, as she pondered how best to answer such a complex question.

Clem nodded.

"It was easier with Spike, in a lot of ways," she said, then laughed, "I know, that must sound insane. I mean, at first he was evil, and trying to kill me. Then he was chipped, but still evil -evil, annoying, scheming... Of course, I wanted to stake him most of the time, too. Then, he started trying to do good things, at first just to impress me, but it wound up being much more to it than just that; he'd changed..." she said, her thoughts wandering.

"...There was this predictability to him most of the time, where I was concerned," again she laughed, "of course, I can probably think of a dozen examples to refute my own statement."

"I think I know what you mean, Buffy," Clem said.

"Explain it to me, then."

"Spike was loyal," Clem said simply, "and he stuck around those he was loyal to, come hell or high water. His devotion, or how he showed it may not have always been a straight, logical line, but you never doubted it, no matter what."

"You’re right," Buffy nodded, and she swallowed back the lump in her throat. She thought of all the reasons that she’d given Spike to walk out and never come back over the years, but he never did, even when he thought she’d never return his feelings.

They were silent for a minute, as they pondered the enigma that had been Spike.

Finally, she spoke, "I thought that the part of him that loved me, the part of him that had those traits had been William. What if it was just the demon? What if it was the demon who never gave up?"

"What if it was?" Clem asked, a puzzled look on his face. "It’s not like us demons can’t love," he reminded her.

"I know," she said, "it’s just that if it was the demon who never gave up, the demon who loved me best...then maybe I’ve really lost William."

END CHAPTER 160

CONT. CH. 161 - 165

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