OCTOBER 11, 2009

SATURDAY

4:00PM

"Oh bloody hell!" William cursed for the second time that day, just as shocked seeing himself in the mirror with white hair, as he'd been earlier. One reason, being that he'd just gotten up again, having gone back to bed to sleep off his hangover after his earlier discovery. Quite happily, he'd forgotten all about his new look, until this moment.

"Oh God!" he muttered, as he stared unbelieving into the mirror, shaking his head.

"How could you? You idiot, you...you stupid git!" he sputtered.

William paced around the apartment cursing all the more, and stopping every so often to pop back into the bathroom and look in the mirror, hoping every time he would find he'd been mistaken.

"Maybe I'm still asleep...yeah that's all, a dream, I'm still..."

He walked back into the bedroom, lay down and closed his eyes. A few minutes later he got up, and went into the bathroom, slowly lifting his head to dare another look into the mirror.

"Oh, bugger!"

Shuffling into the living room, he flopped down on the couch, defeated.

"Bugger!" he said again, suddenly having remembered about the cat. He’d forgotten all about feeding him this morning.

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

4:30PM

"I’m coming Charley," William said to the cat that was meowing piteously from the other side of the door. As he let himself in, the cat took one look at him, and hissed, its fur standing straight up.

"What’s the matter boy?" William said, bending down to stroke him.

"Ouch!" he said, pulling his hand back, when the cat clawed at him.

Finally it dawned on him, "Yeah, right. I do look a fright, don’t I?"

Sitting down in the middle of the floor, he extended his hand to Charley, talking softly to the animal, "It’s okay kitty, still me, just looking like a git..."

After a while, curiosity overcame the cat’s initial fear. He came nearer, sniffing William’s hand, and responding to his soft voice.

"So, we okay now, are we?"

Charley purred in response.

After he fed the cat, and made sure he took his pill, he stuck around for a while to make it up to him. Sitting in a recliner in the living room, the cat jumped up on his lap, and let him assuage some of his guilt through petting. Eventually, the cat got bored of the attention, and went off to do his own thing, leaving William free to leave.

"Be back tomorrow morning, Charley. I promise."

The cat gave his silent consent.

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

8:30PM

Tapping his foot with nervous energy, William tossed the book aside he’d been trying to read for the past two hours. Wondering what he was going to do with himself for the rest of the evening, he glanced surreptitiously at the laptop, then once again ignored it. He didn’t dare take a chance on seeing Dawn online again, or more importantly, Elizabeth.

After feeding Charley, he’d come back to the apartment, and tried to write her a letter, but hadn’t gotten much farther than the salutation. Afraid once he started, he’d pour his heart out, making her feel sorry for him. She didn’t need that and neither did he; better it come from Dawn that he was alright and leave it at that.

"She’s better off," he told himself like a mantra.

"And what about you?" his inner voice asked, as he got up and paced the apartment. "Is this better for you? Being without the woman you love?" In answer to his question, he took down the bottle of Jack Daniels from the cabinet, poured some over ice, and took a drink.

He walked into the bathroom, glass in hand, and stared at his reflection in the mirror again and shuddered. Suddenly it occurred to him that he could undo it! He put the glass down, grabbed his car keys, and headed out.

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

William entered the drugstore, head down, as if that would prevent anyone from noticing the bright beacon of platinum hair that now crowned his head.

Although, in this day and age, so different form his own, anybody could look anyway they pleased with nary a glance, this still wasn't Los Angeles or San Francisco. This being the case, indeed, he did draw a few curious stares.

Glancing upwards only when he found the right aisle, he stopped in front of the shelf of hair dyes again. Studying the different shades of hair color for men, he found one that seemed near what his color had been, and took it down.

"Aw, you don't want to do that, do you?" a female voice asked, just as he was about to take the box up to the front of the store to pay for it.

William looked up, "Do what?"

"Dye your hair brown, I think you should leave it the color you have now," she said, smiling at him. She had short, raven black hair, which she wore in a sort of glam-punk style. It contrasted with her baby blue eyes, and just the hint of dimples. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn't place her.

"I don't think so," he said, shaking his head, eyes downcast.

"It's your hair, I'm just saying it looks good...sexy," she said the last part in a low voice.

He looked up at her in surprise. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.

"How long have you worn it like this?" she asked, when he didn't answer her.

"Um...just did this yesterday; it was a mistake."

"Some people might buy corn flakes instead of oat flakes by mistake, but I've never heard of anyone buying hair bleach by mistake. Were you drunk or something?"

William's cheeks flushed, and he nodded; "Actually, yes. Not when I bought it, but when I decided to do it. Woke up this morning and..." he gestured with his hand towards his hair.

The girl laughed, but not unkindly, and he gave her a lopsided grin.

"Well, my advice would be to wait a bit before dying it back; you could really mess up your hair, if you put too many chemicals on it so close together."

"Really? Why? What could happen?"

"I don't know, your hair might fall out, break off, turn green...," she said, her eyes laughing. "Look, I'm sort of teasing about all that, but in all honesty, it probably isn't a good idea to do a bleaching job on your hair, then dye it back the next day."

"Oh," William said, reluctantly putting the box back.

"Look, it's really not that bad. Makes you look...I don't know, I was going to say British, but you already are British, right? I know, you sort of look like that one punk rocker guy from around twenty, thirty years ago."

"Great," William said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, he was kinda cool!"

"I’ll bet. Well, thanks for your advice; guess I'll wait a while. How long do you think I need to wait?"

"I don't know, I’d say at least a few weeks, to be on the safe side."

William groaned, "Great. Well, thanks again," he said, and started walking away.

"Wait!" she called after him.

William stopped and turned.

"Um...look...what's your name?" she asked, as she took bright, neon yellow piece of paper from her purse.

"William," he said, hesitating a moment.

"William, if you want me to help you with your hair when you get ready to dye it, give me a call. Here's my work number; stop in sometime and have a drink, okay?" she said looking him in the eyes, as she scribbled something on the flyer, folded it, and put it into his hand, letting her fingertips rest there just a bit longer than necessary.

"Oh...I...uh...thanks," he mumbled, taken aback.

"Bye now," she said, as she walked off, hips swaying, sure that he was looking after her.

William stared at her until she turned the corner, then looked down at the paper, and unfolded it, to read:

It included an address and phone number in San Diego, and she’d written her name, Miranda, on the bottom of the paper.

He stared at it for a moment, then put it into the pocket of his jeans. On the way out of the store, he stopped at the pet section, and picked out a toy mouse for Charley.

"...Oh, I’m definitely going as soon as I leave here. By tomorrow, the best buys will all be gone!" said a woman in front of him at the checkout.

"So the Volunteer Fireman do this rummage sale every year?" asked the cashier.

"Yeah, every second weekend in October. It helps raise money for the Halloween party they put on every year for the kids, as well as goes to buying Christmas gifts for needy kids, and helps pay for new equipment for the firemen."

"Cool," said the cashier. "What do they have?"

"Oh my...they have everything, sports stuff, clothes, furniture, books, TV’s, computers, you name it!"

"Darn, I could use a few new things. Well, newer in any case."

"It starts tonight, and they’ll be open until midnight, if you get off work before it closes."

"Yeah, I just might go. Is it at the station?"

"Well, it’s behind the station, in a big garage they have. Just turn left on Henderson; then follow the signs. You’ll probably see a bunch of cars going there, just follow them."

"Thanks, maybe I will," she said, finishing the transaction, before turning to William’s purchase.

"Is this it for you?" she asked, ringing up the mouse.

William nodded.

The cashier grinned, "So, are you going to the rummage sale, too?"

"I don’t know, wasn’t planning on it."

"Wish I could, I hear they have some really good stuff," she said wistfully. "Here you go, hope your kitty enjoys the toy."

"Thanks," he said, taking the sack.

As he walked to his car, William looked across the street at the big neon Bank of America clock. It was only a few minutes after nine, and he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to go home to his lonely apartment. Remembering about the rummage sale, and hoping he might find something he could bring home to occupy his time with, he headed over to Henderson Street.

William soon found himself in a queue of cars, obviously heading to the same place as he was. Three volunteer firemen were of the firehouse garage, to help with the parking. He was directed past the firehouse, up an unpaved street, where he finally found a spot two blocks away, when someone pulled out. He walked back to the firehouse, and took his place in line.

About five minutes later he was let in to the large, cavernous garage, given a half dozen, paper shopping bags, and a map. It was broken down into sections such as electronics, sports, clothing, books, housewares, and the like.

The place was packed with wall-to-wall people, all pushing and shoving as they tried to get to their destination. His self-consciousness over his hair was quickly forgotten, as nobody was paying any attention to anything but their own quest for bargains. Swallowing down the claustrophobic feelings that made him want to bolt, William forged ahead after first glancing around, and making sure he knew where the exits were.

The least populated area of the garage was the book section, which he headed for first. After about thirty minutes, and a bag and a half of books, he maneuvered his way over to the electronics section. The multitude of old computers, TV’s, printers, faxes, telephones, and everything else under the sun was almost as large as the Radio Shack he’d been to with Elizabeth before. He saw someone typing on a keyboard attached to a laptop, and stopped to ask about it.

The man assured him that lots of people used a regular keyboard and mouse at home with their laptops.

"As long as there are ports in the back?"

"Yep, that’s the main thing."

"How much?"

"Five dollars each."

"I’ll take ‘em."

Next, he looked at the televisions. There was mini black and white 5" TV’s, all the way up to the huge 3’ screens; priced from $5.00 to $300.00. For his purposes, he chose a small 9" color TV that was only $7.00.

He paid for those items in the electronics department, and they told him if he was still looking, they would hold his items behind the counter with his name on them until he was ready to leave.

"Can I leave these here a while, too?" William asked, pointing to the books.

"We’re not supposed to...ah, what the heck, go ahead leave ‘em."

"Thanks," William answered, handing over the bags. Feeling much lighter, he went off to do some more browsing.

He stopped for a moment at the jewelry display, staring at the jumble of necklaces, earrings, rings, and bracelets. His thoughts unconsciously looking to match up certain pieces to Elizabeth and Dawn, and wondering how they’d like them.

"Looking to buy something for that special someone?" the woman behind the counter asked, just as William was reaching out to pick up a green and gold tennis bracelet that caught his eye; it’s color a perfect match for the top Elizabeth had worn at Christmas.

"Um...no, thanks anyway," he said, jerking his hand back, brought out of his daydream. He beat a hasty retreat from the jewelry counter. It was yet another painful reminder of his current reality, one that didn’t include buying jewelry for the woman you love, but left, and her sister.

Looking ahead, he could see the masses huddled at least a half-dozen deep, in each clothing aisle. Deciding the best thing would be to collect his purchases from electronics, then pay for his books, he started to look for a way to circumvent the crowds. He looked behind him, but the way he’d just come from, had filled up with a larger mass of people than was facing him if he forged forward, and so he did. He skirted around the rows of women and children’s, luckily finding the men’s clothing aisle almost empty.

He slowed down, as he read the sign:

All Men’s Button Down & T-shirts: $ 0.50

Men’s Pants: 1.00

Jeans 2.00

Sweaters 1.00

Jackets 3.00

Coats 5.00

The prices were even better than they had been at the thrift store; "Well, won’t hurt to look as long as I’m here," he told himself.

Fifteen minutes, and three bags full later, William had enough clothes to last him without having to do laundry every other day. He didn’t bother trying them on, figuring most would fit adequately enough. As he gathered his bags, and started towards the end of the aisle, something long, black, and hanging down almost to the floor caught his eye. Putting his bags down, he wrestled with the hanger that was tightly wedged between other hangers. Finally, he managed to wrench it free and pull it out.

The long, black, leather duster was in near perfect condition, with no tears, rips, or blemishes inside or out, that he could see. Cocking his head in puzzlement, he looked around wondering if it wasn’t there by some mistake. Looking up again to see if somehow he’d missed a separate sign for leather coats. No, all coats were listed under one price. There was no label inside to tell him, but it looked to be his size. Taking off the jacket he was wearing, and laying it on top of his bags, he took the black duster off the hanger, and shrugged into it.

The coat slipped on him like a second skin, and William was immediately struck with a not quite unpleasant sense of deja vu. The weight of the coat, the feel of the leather covering him made him feel the warmest he had in weeks; and the most right.

Finding no mirror, he reluctantly took it off, and put it back onto the hanger, buttoning it so it wouldn’t fall off. He had no intention of shoving his find into a bag to be wrinkled.

After retrieving his purchases and books from electronics, he awkwardly made his way up to the front of the store by pushing the bags of books with his feet, while holding onto the with other bags, and the duster. His stomach clenched a bit, when he handed the cashier the coat, sure she was going to eye him suspiciously at the very least, or claim there had been some mistake, but she rang it through with everything else.

"That’ll be $31.00 even," she said.

"Okay," William said, pulling the amount from his wallet.

He made his way outside, where luckily there were people stationed to watch over purchases, while the owners brought round their cars. William left all the bags at the curb, only taking the duster with him to retrieve his car. Pulling up, a man helped him load the bags into the trunk.

"Thanks for coming by, I hope you found some good bargains," the man said.

"Quite good. Thank you," William replied, smiling.

As soon as he returned home, and had brought his purchases upstairs, he went back to the main house to check up on Charley. The cat seemed pleased to see him this time, with no further hissing or hair standing straight up

"Just a little something to make up for earlier, hope you like it," William said, giving him the toy mouse he’d bought. He played with the cat and the toy for a while, before returning to his apartment to put away his purchases.

Plugging in the small television, he was pleased to see that most of the channels came in decently enough, even without the benefit of an outside antenna or cable. Next, all the books, except for the one he planned on reading that night, were put into the small bookshelf he’d bought yesterday at the thrift store. He placed the extra keyboard and mouse, near the laptop, for whenever he decided to use it again. The bags of clothing were left downstairs in the laundry room, off of the garage.

Making himself a sandwich, he settled down in front of the little television, and started watching a history of jazz program on the local public television station. He tried to pay attention, but instead, found his mind wandering to the times him and Elizabeth would sit snuggled up on the couch watching some history or nature show. Patiently, she would fill-in-the-blanks of the common knowledge his memory didn’t contain, for him. Of course now, he understood why everything he had remembered had been from 1880 and before. However, when there was a show on something he was well versed in, he‘d do the same for her.

Sighing, he flipped the channel, watching the news for a while, then a talk show before turning it off. He tried to turn his attention to one of the books he’d bought, and once again found his attention diverted by his own thoughts.

The duster had been laid carefully over a chair when he’d come home. Picking it up, he unbuttoned it and removed it from the hanger, then put it on again. For the second time that night, he felt a sense of something niggling at him just under the surface of his consciousness. Again, there was an almost ‘guilty pleasure’ to the sensation. Pushing the question of why aside, he grabbed his keys and headed out.

END CHAPTER 161

OCTOBER 11, 2009

SATURDAY

11:00PM

JULIAN

Bringing her tea with her, Buffy tried to settle down on the couch to watch something, anything on television.

"Not looking over there, not looking at the desk," she told herself yet again, but two minutes later, like a moth to a flame, Buffy once again logged onto the computer, as she’d been doing almost hourly since hearing Dawn had talked to William last night. She’d been relieved that Dawn had talked to him, but what he’d said had left her both depressed and angry. At the moment, the former was prevailing.

‘You have 5 emails waiting to be sent,’ the AOL message told her.

She looked at the letters she’d written thus far to William.

Buffy deleted all the others, and tried again.

Buffy pressed send.

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

OCTOBER 11, 2009

SATURDAY

11:00PM

SAN MARCOS

He’d seen the bar a couple of times before when the university’s student lots had been all filled, and he’d had to park on one of the side streets. It was just a little pub, discreetly sitting between a couple of off-campus student apartment buildings. It was the sort of place that would mostly cater to the local clientele, a place to sit and unwind, flirt with the opposite sex, and get pleasantly smashed.

Luck was on his side, as he found a parking space only a block away and big enough for the DeSoto, when someone pulled out. The night air was cold, as he walked the block to the bar, but the duster blunted it just enough to make it feel comfortably cool. He smiled at his good fortune for having found it.

As he rounded the corner, he could already hear the thrum of the music coming from the bar. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders to adjust the coat a bit before entering. From the door, he could see a long bar off to the right side, a rather small dance floor to the left, and tables and booths in the middle. A huge fisherman’s net hung from the ceiling, containing various shells, starfish, and other sea life, and there were mounted fish on the walls.

As William stood there taking it all in, it only mildly registered that the momentary lull in the volume of conversations had to do with him, as the patrons checked out the newest arrival.

As he made his way to the bar, a large man stumbled into him, spilling some beer down his new coat and onto his shoes.

"Watch where you’re going!" William said, without thinking.

"Who do you think you’re talking to asshole?"

William gulped, as he looked up at the menacingly large man now glaring at him, thinking that his face was suddenly going to get awfully familiar with the man’s meaty fist.

William’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw as his body tensed, waiting for what surely was about to follow this exchange, when the man suddenly seemed to change his mind.

"Um...hey man, I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t watching where I was going," he said, grabbing some napkins off a nearby table, despite their loud protests of those sitting there, then proceeded, to William’s astonishment, to wipe the beer off of his coat.

"There, how’s that? Are we good now?" the man asked, venturing a small, nervous smile.

William only nodded dumbly, as he walked to the bar and found a seat.

"What’ll it be?" asked the bartender.

"Jack...um...sorry, Guinness draught," William said, deciding he’d be better off drinking something less likely to get him drunk, since he was driving.

William handed him a five, when the bartender came with his drink, but he refused it; "The man over there, said it was on him," he said, pointing to a nearby table. William followed the man’s finger until he saw the man who had bumped into him. The man held up his drink, tipping it towards him in mock salute, and William did the same.

Shaking his head, he took a long pull from his beer, looking into the bar’s mirror, watching the action behind him. A dangerous looking man wearing all black, with a shock of platinum hair gazed back.

He stared hard until a bitterly amused smirk replaced the wide-eyed disbelief on his face, as it dawned on him just why, he’d been the recipient of nervous looks, apologies, and a free drink.

A harsh laugh erupted from William, causing those nearby to look towards him, but he paid them no mind. Almost mockingly, it seemed that by his looking more like Spike, the very thing he’d been running from, he was now getting something he’d rarely ever been able to get on his own, especially of late. Respect.

He downed the beer, and ordered another one, insisting on paying for his own this time around.

"Three dollars, or do you want me to run a tab?" asked the bartender, setting down the beer, and taking the empty glass.

"Tab’s fine," answered William. He had no other place he needed to be, no place at all.

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

1:30am

"Be back," he told the bartender, excusing himself.

"I hate this fucking town!" he heard a familiar voice, as the door to the restroom swung open. He stiffened, as he came face to face with Tommy and Ralph, who were exiting. They stared at him for a moment, before stepping aside to let him enter.

Tommy looked at Ralph, "Dude, who was that? He looked familiar."

Ralph shrugged, "Never saw him before."

"No, I think I know him from somewhere."

"Do you care? You want a date or something?" Ralph asked, grinning.

"Fuck you!"

William’s heart was pounding and he let out a sigh of relief, realizing that they hadn’t recognized him. He finished up and went back out to the bar, hoping that they wouldn’t be anywhere around.

Unfortunately, they were standing not too far from where he took his seat. He saw Tommy glance over at him a few times, then look away.

"Another Guinness?"

"That’ll be..." William started to say normally, then cleared his throat. "Make it a Jack Daniels, on the rocks," he said, disguising his true voice in a much more working class accent.

The bartender gave him a strange look, but didn’t say anything.

"Think I’ll pay my tab now," he said, when the drink came, "how much do I owe you?"

"Twelve dollars."

William gave him a ten and a five, and motioned for him to keep the change. The bartender gave a short nod, and went off to wait on other customers.

As he drank, he kept glancing at the mirror to see where Tommy and Ralph were, and was glad to see that they’d disappeared from view. He finished up the drink, and decided to leave by the back door, which he’d noticed when he’d visited the restroom earlier.

The backdoor opened up onto a small deck, probably used a lot during the summer, but now deserted, or so he thought. As William started towards the rear gate, which led to the alley, he heard a scuffling off to the right side of the deck, which was in darkness, but the voice was unmistakable.

"Come on Alison, I you know still want me," the voice said, as bodies banged into the deck’s railing.

"Stop it Tommy! I told you it was over," said an angry female voice.

"Why, because I’m not a college boy anymore?" he said, as he pushed his body against hers that much harder.

"No, because you’re an idiot!"

A loud slap, followed by a cry made William flinch, but he steered himself and started toward the darkened corner.

"It’s over when I say it’s over slut! Grab her arms Ralph! It’s time I teach this bitch a lesson!"

Ralph’s back was to him, as William whipped him around, quickly dropping him to the deck with a sucker’s punch. He then turned his attention to Tommy, "I believe the lady asked you to leave her alone," William said, willing his voice to be as steely on the outside, as his heart was pounding on the inside.

Tommy viciously pushed Alison away from him, as he glared at William. She stumbled and fell against the railing a few feet away, her eyes fearful as she looked from William to Tommy.

"I know you, don’t I? Who are you?"

William pulled himself up as tall as he could, "Name’s Spike," he said in a cold voice, "and you don’t know me, but I know you."

"That right?" Tommy asked, as he started advancing towards William. "Well, when I’m done with you, there won’t be anything left of you to know!"

With that, he charged. William, although drunk, easily dodged his punch, causing the man to stumble forward to the other side of the deck. By the time he turned around, William was ready for him, and landed a hard blow to his face, causing Tommy to fall. He was on his feet in a minute, and launched himself anew into William. A crowd had gathered, as the two men fell onto the deck, and proceeded to pummel each other. By now, Ralph had gotten up, and tried to get into the fight, but others held him back.

Tommy fought hard, but William fought harder, landing the most blows, and managing to get to his feet.

"Get up you coward!" he said, stepping back as Tommy struggled to get to his knees.

The crowd cheered him on, yelling for him to punch him while he had the chance, but William wouldn’t do it, not while he was down. He wanted Tommy to know just who was going to come out on top of this fight, fair and square.

Tommy rose, staggering to his feet, trying to land a blow to his opponent’s stomach, which William neatly dodged. The next one took, or so his opponent thought, when William doubled over, gasping for air. A leer plastered on Tommy’s face, his knee came up, just as William rose, stepped back, and delivered a bone crunching left hook to Tommy’s face. Tommy went down, and it was over.

William bent over the barely conscious Tommy, who held his hands over his nose moaning, and grabbed him by the collar, "Don’t you ever let me see you here or any other place in this town again, you got it, you tosser?" he hissed at him.

Tommy nodded.

"What was that?" William said, pulling his fist back.

Tommy flinched, "Okay! Please! No more, I got it! Please!"

William smirked, and pushed him back as he released his hold on him.

Some of the patrons went to Tommy’s side, even as a round of applause went up for William. Some of them patting him on the back, as he suddenly sagged as the adrenaline surge went out of him.

Alison stood off at a distance with the friends that had surrounded her, watching and waiting. "Excuse me," she said to them, when the crowd around William had thinned out.

He had his back to her, when she put her hand on his arm. "I...I wanted to thank you," she stammered, as he turned to face her.

He shook his head, "No need; don’t like to see any man hurt a lady," he said, turning away.

"But I know who you are!"

William stiffened, and turned back to face her, but didn’t say anything.

"What I mean, is that I’m so sorry about what happened that day in the cafeteria, and later in front of my dorm. I always knew in my gut that Tommy was a bully, but I didn’t want to believe it, know what I mean?"

She continued when William didn’t say anything, "Love is like that...it makes you hide the truth from yourself, and only believe what you want to believe. But the day him and Ralph beat you up, I broke up with him. I...I just wanted you to know that, and to thank you for tonight. You didn’t have to come to my aid, you didn’t..."

William put his hand on her arm, "It’s alright. Really. I didn’t hold you responsible for what those stupid gits did to me," he said, his voice low.

She let out a sigh of relief, "Thank you; for everything."

"You’re welcome," he said, releasing her arm. She gave him a small smile, then went back into the bar with her friends.

Tommy had been carted off by his friends, and soon afterwards, almost everyone else drifted back inside. William, more than ready to leave, started for the alley. Just as he reached the gate, a voice stopped him.

"Pretty good fighting skills you got there, William."

William turned around to see the woman he’d met earlier in the drug store.

"Thanks..."

"Miranda," she said with a smile. She looked back towards the door, then discretely pulled a flask out of her purse, offering it to him.

"Miranda," William echoed, accepting the flask and taking a long gulp, as he eyed her, curiously. The liquor burned on the way down, but he didn’t mind; he welcomed it.

"Where’d you learn to fight like that?" she asked, taking a drink herself, before passing it back to William.

"I used to spar with my..." he stopped, realizing how it might sound to say that he’d learned to fight best when sparring with another woman, even if that woman had been The Slayer. He doubted Miranda had ever heard of a slayer, "friends."

"I see. Well, you did real well; that kid had a good ass-kicking coming to him. Scumbag tried to force himself on me one night as I was walking home. I kicked him in the balls!" she said, grinning. "Never bothered me again!"

"Wanker!"

"Yeah, whatever you said!"

He grinned back, taking another drink.

"Look William, I got to get back to my ‘posse’ inside, but I just wanted to let you know that you did good. Also, if you’re interested, I might be able to offer you a job at the bar I work at."

"Doing what?" William asked, surprised.

"Not sure, why don’t you come by and I’ll see if we can fix you up."

"I don’t know," William said, shaking his head, "I don’t think so."

She shrugged, "It’s up to you, but seriously, I could use another pair of hands, arms, eyes, whatever. I think you’d like it. Anyway, if you’re interested, you’ve got the address, right?"

William nodded, "Yes, I still have it," he said, trying to hand her back the flask.

"You keep it, I have more. Consider it a reward from a fan," she said winking, as she turned to go back into the bar.

"By the way," she said, turning back towards him, "I see the ‘look’ is working out for you. Oh, and love the name, too. Spike," she said, winking once more, before disappearing inside.

William stared after her dumbfounded for the second time that night, then walked to his car.

Although he was beginning to ache from the punches he’d received that night, he was still a bit giddy as he let himself into his apartment and got ready for bed. He couldn’t help grinning, as he thought of Tommy. For once, he’d prevailed over a bully, and it had felt great!

Not just prevailed, he’d beaten the crap out of him!

Still in good humor, he turned on the light in the bathroom to wash up, and saw himself in the mirror once again. Though not shocked any longer, the smirk faded as he studied his face, sobering up. It was still his face, bruises and all, yet there was something different about it; less innocent perhaps; or maybe it was deeper than that.

Innocent, now that’s a concept whose time has surely passed, he thought, snorting. His hands came up, as he brushed his hair back from his forehead, and winced as some pulled away from a cut near his hairline, causing it to start bleeding a bit. He hadn’t even noticed it until then. Glad for the distraction from any further troubling thoughts, he concentrated on cleaning it up.

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

Sitting on the side of the bed, he set the clock to make sure he’d wake up on time to feed Charley. As he did, he glanced at Elizabeth’s necklace and ring, and his fingers ghosted over them for a moment, before turning off the lamp.

Sighing, he put his hands behind his head, staring up at the darkness. Soon he was asleep, dreaming of innocent looking faces, which hid the monsters underneath.

END CHAPTER 162

A/N Sorry to take so long beteen updates. Tricky stuff getting William to go where and how I want him to go. Couldn't just have him fall into a bottle of bleach and a long, black duster, now could I? LOL

Thanks as always to my Beta Judy, who helps me out of the writing doldrums, and is honest enough to let me know when something I put on the proverbial writing flagpole just doesn't fly . :)

CHAPTER 163 – THE NEW ME

OCTOBER 15, 2009

WEDNESDAY

8:00PM

"Good to be home, isn’t it?" Professor Wittman said, as he put the suitcases down by the door.

Ingrid smiled fondly at him, "Very," she said, patting him on the arm, knowing that these trips to the clinic were as hard on him, as they were on her.

"Hello Charley! How have you been old boy? William treat you well while we were gone?" Richard asked.

The cat purred in response, rubbing against both of his owner’s legs.

"He’s just fine," Ingrid said, bending over to pick him up. She walked into the living room with Charlie, pulling the cord on the drapes back.

"Who is that Richard?"

"Who’s who?" the professor asked, walking over towards her.

Ingrid pointed to a man with a black coat and blonde hair walking up the driveway, and starting towards William’s apartment.

"I’ll go find out," he replied, frowning.

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

"Excuse me," the professor said, as he hurriedly walked towards the man; "can I help you?"

William turned around, and smiled, "Oh, hello Professor, you’re home early. How was your trip?"

"My...? William is that you?" the professor asked, looking at him puzzled.

"Um...yeah, it’s me," William replied, embarrassed as it dawned on him why the professor was asking.

"Oh...I didn’t recognize you," he said, recovering from his shock. Still, he glanced over at the DeSoto, as if to reassure himself that the person in front of him, and the owner, were indeed one and the same.

William folded the top over the bag he was carrying to conceal its contents, then walked over to the professor.

"Guess I needed a bit of a change, though wasn’t sure I was looking for something quite as radical," he said, shrugging.

The professor looked at him thoughtfully before slowly nodding.

"How was your trip? How’s Mrs. Wittman?" William asked, changing the subject.

"Oh, she’s doing well. Her cancer is in remission, as for the other problem, they won’t know the results until sometime next week. That’s why they sent us home early."

"That’s great news! As for the other tests, I’m sure they’ll all turn out..."

Ingrid had opened the door between the house and garage. On hearing their voices just outside, she hit the garage door remote on the wall. As it lifted and the men came into view, her mouth fell open as she stared at William, wide-eyed.

"Ach du lieber!" she finally said, lapsing into her native German.

William blushed, realizing why she was staring.

"It’s our William," said the professor, motioning toward him with one hand, while nodding towards her with the other.

William walked up to her slowly, his head down, until he was right in front of her, "How are you feeling?"

"I’m...I’m fine," she said, looking at him from top to bottom, and shaking her head.

"Shocked you, did I?"

"You did," she readily agreed. "What on earth possessed you...?"

"Ingrid!" Richard scolded gently. "Leave the boy alone."

"That’s alright; it’s a fair question. Years ago, before I lost my memory that is, I used to look like this. Guess I just wanted to know what it might feel like to look like this again."

Ingrid stood there, still shaking her head. Stopping, she looked him in the eyes, as if trying to ascertain something, until feeling naked under her scrutiny, William looked away.

"And how does it feel?" she asked him softly.

William paused for a moment before answering. "I don’t quite know yet; guess I’m still working it out."

She nodded slowly.

"Well, guess I’ll be getting back to the house," Richard said. "Charley looks well, the rascal didn’t give you any trouble, did he?"

"Not at all, we got along fine. Though, he did a bit of what you two did just now, when he first saw the ‘new’ me," William chuckled.

"I’m not surprised," the professor said. "Well, good-night then. Thanks for looking out for him."

"Was glad to; we kept each other company."

The professor walked back into the house through the garage. William nodded, then went to retrieve his bag. As he straightened up, he felt her hand on his arm, and turned to look at her.

"Don’t lose yourself, or hide behind this, William," she said, her gaze sweeping over him, her kindly eyes imploring him.

"I...I won’t," he said, swallowing, his mouth suddenly gone dry.

She released his arm, nodding. "Good-night, William."

"Good-night, Mrs. Wittman."

"Ingrid," she said, smiling gently at him.

"Ingrid, then," he said, nodding.

"It’ll all work out William. You’ll see," she said, as she walked back into the garage.

He stood there staring after her, until the door came down.

"Wish that I could believe that," he said softly, before walking up to his apartment.

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

8:30PM

Since the night of his fight with Tommy, he’d laid low, only going to the corner store for a frozen can of orange juice, milk, and another bottle of Jack Daniels. It was becoming a good friend lately, the kind that let him forget all about the things that he couldn’t face, and his loneliness. At least for a while.

Now, full of nervous energy, and strangely unsettled from the encounter with the Wittmans, William took out the bottle he’d just purchased, and poured himself a shot into the remains of his ‘morning’ tea. Distractedly, he stared at some stupid Survivor show on the television. He scoffed, as some of the tribe members whined and complained to the cameras on how they were wasting away from the lack of protein, unless they ate bugs. And oh, the hardship of having to make do with trying to open a can of beans by bashing it with a rock, blah, blah...

"Try surviving the Hellmouth for years like Elizabeth did, like Dawn did, like all of them did, then talk to me about real surviving. Let’s see any of you tossers take that on!"

He glanced towards the floor where the laptop still sat, ever since running into Dawn online the other night. He reached for it, then hesitated; "This is stupid, it's going to bite you," he said, berating himself.

"Welcome! You’ve got mail!" the computer’s automated voice told him as soon as he logged on.

He glanced towards it, figuring it was just the old mail, but then  saw the email from Elizabeth.  Moving the mouse to open it, William watched in consternation, as it scurried all over the screen, like when he’d first learned how to use one. He lifted up his hand, and looked at it; it was trembling. With effort, he brought it under control, and clicked on her letter.

"Oh no luv, no," he mumbled, as her pain, not relief filled words, seared him in their simplicity.

He grabbed the bottle and took a long drink, closing his eyes for a moment, before hitting the reply button.

Setting the computer aside, he rose from the couch, and paced restlessly around the apartment before walking into the bedroom. Digging through the pile of clothes, which had been collecting on the floor, he found the pair of jeans he was looking for. Checking the pocket, he pulled out the yellow neon flyer that Miranda had given him.

He unfolded it, and looked at the information. Catching his attention was the part reading: Poetry Slam, nightly 10:00pm. Now through Halloween ! He wasn’t sure what that was, but since it mentioned poetry, it must be a fairly civilized place he figured. Though he wasn’t quite so sure that he could stand to hear sad or evocative verse, anything would be better than going stir crazy here another night. He checked his watch; he could easily make it by the time it started, even if it was an hour away.

He thought about calling Miranda for directions, but quickly decided against that, instead he tried the printed number on the flyer. After a dozen or so rings someone answered. William tried to ask for directions from San Marcos, but all he could hear was that the person couldn’t make out what he was saying; then the line went dead.

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

9:00PM

"I just wanted to bring this by," Professor Wittman said, as William opened up his apartment door. He held out a map to William.

"Oh, thanks a lot, and I took your suggestion and got the directions from Mapquest, but I’m sure the map will help. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow."

"No, you keep this one, I have another somewhere."

"Thanks, Professor, I appreciate it."

"Have a good night," the professor said, and headed back down the stairs with a wave.

William shoved the map into one of the duster’s long pockets, then tore off the page of his notebook with the directions he’d written down. Grabbing his keys, he headed out the door.

END CHAPTER 163