"It’s...complicated," William said, wincing at the worthless expression.

"Okay. He’d like that, I’d imagine. Besides, Elizabeth was still asleep when I..."

"Oh. Well, that’s different then," Dawn said, but then added, "but it’s still not good that you’re leaving anyway!"

"I'm sorry, Dawn."

"Don’t. Don’t apologize, William. Just do what you have to so you can come back home."

William nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

"I’ve really got to go now, Dawn. Take care, okay?" William said, tentatively holding out his arms to her. Awkwardly, they hugged one more time before he got into his car.

NOVEMBER 20, 2009

THURSDAY

11:15AM

Chatting a bit at first, as Wesley navigated the freeways on their way to LAX, conversation soon dwindled between the relative strangers. William sat looking out the passenger window at the familiar landscapes of Southern California he'd grown to know, and love over the past year. That he truly was leaving the only place he could now call home, and the only people he knew who cared for him; especially her, was beginning to sink in, and he wondered if he would actually go through with it after all. He started to workout the scenario, where he’d just tell Wesley that he changed his mind, beg his forgiveness for being such a stupid git, tell him to take him back home.

"Um, Mr. Pryce?"

"Oh, before I forget," Wesley began at the same time, interrupting William, "you might want to take a look at these. Best familiarize yourself with them, before we get there," Wesley said, pulling out an envelope from the glove compartment.

William opened up the envelope, and took out an airline ticket and passport. The passport photograph was one he'd never seen before, but there was no mistaking that it was Spike. The cold, inhuman eyes staring back at him verified that fact. These were the unsympathetic, eyes he looked out at the world from in his nightmares.

"Um...I believe this is the only photograph of you Mr. Giles had in his files," Wesley explained, noticing him shudder. "I’m sure we could have another one made up at a later date."

William shrugged dispassionately, trying hard not to show any emotion, and put the passport back into the envelope, shoving it into his pocket. What difference did it make how they doctored up the truth of his existence? Willow had made up his papers from the university, his green card, and other documents. Elizabeth had given them to him, letting him believe that it was his so called memory loss that had him further confused about which professors he’d had, and courses he’d taken, not to mention the year of graduation.

He’d been a fool; so hungry to believe the lies he’d been fed, so hungry for her and the promise of a life he’d only dared dream about... William’s jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared; the all-too-familiar surge of pain and anger coursing through him, as he recalled a whole year of living a lie, and he felt renewed purpose over his decision to leave.

"Oh, how rude of me! You were about to say something before?" Wesley asked, interrupting his dark thoughts.

"It was nothing," William said, shaking his head.

"Very well," Wesley said. "By the way, your airline ticket is for roundtrip, but open-ended."

"What does that mean?" William asked, frowning.

"Sorry, I forget you’ve never flown. It means that it’s already been paid for, but the return is left open. Whenever it is that you decide to return, you just have to make a reservation with the airline for that date. Of course, you’d still want to call in advance, to secure the seat."

"I see. Thanks for seeing to it, Mr. Pryce."

"Not of my doing. I’m only the messenger," Wesley said, with a sardonic grin. "Mr. Giles is the one to thank. Oh, and please do call me Wesley, Mr. Pryce is my father."

William nodded. William felt the beginnings of a bad headache coming on, probably from the roller coaster of emotions he’d been riding.

"We should be there in about twenty minutes," Wesley said, pointing to a highway sign for Los Angeles International Airport.

At the mention of the airport, William felt his stomach flip-flop, and his head start pounding with renewed vigor. He was really leaving! Just as quickly as he had felt the surge of anger and pain he now remembered with longing, the warmth he’d shared with Elizabeth only yesterday; remembered how her body felt just this morning snuggled up against his. With those feelings came another wave of guilt over leaving.

Yep, it was going to be one hell of a headache!

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

11:00AM

Buffy was still sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea that had long ago grown cold, and staring at William’s note when she heard the crunch of gravel on the drive. Her pulse sped up, and she quickly refolded the note, sticking it into the pocket of her robe. Self-consciously, she ran her fingers through her hair, while expectantly keeping her eye on the door. A few moments later Dawn walked in with Clem, who was carrying two rather large cartons.

"Hey, Buffy, you’re up!" Dawn said..

"Dawn!" Buffy replied surprised and happy to see her, at the same time, trying to cover up her disappointment that it wasn’t William.

"How are you?"

"Better."

Dawn walked over to the table, and felt Buffy’s forehead. "Well, you feel alright for a sickly person," she said, grinning.

"So says the person with the freezing cold hands," Buffy said.

"Sorry about that," Dawn said, as she flopped down in the chair opposite Buffy, studying her weary face. Quickly, Buffy looked away. She couldn’t handle the tea and sympathy route right now.

"Hey Buffy, where should I put these?" Clem asked.

"What are they?" Buffy asked.

"They’re care packages from Edna; all your favorite dishes, plus extra essentials like bread and eggs, you know Edna...Oh, and William stopped by and ordered it for you on his way to...um...wherever he’s going," Clem said, catching himself just in time. He looked at Buffy guiltily, but she seemed to have not have noticed his slip.

"He did?" Buffy asked. "That was..."

"William for you," Clem finished breezily, relief rolling off him in palpable waves. He'd promised his best friend not to say anything, and the first thing he did was nearly let it slip. Then again, Buffy had been his closest friend for a number of years, too. He just hoped he wouldn't have to either lie to her or betray the promise he made to Spike.

"Yeah," Buffy said softly. "Just put them on the counter; we’ll put it all away."

"Okey dokey," Clem said, putting the cartons down, with a thud, then made for the backdoor.

"There’s more?" Buffy asked, her eyes wide.

"Hee-hee. No, I just thought I’d be on my way then; let you and Dawn catch up with the girl-talk and all that."

"You’re not going to stay and chat for a while?" Dawn asked, sounding disappointed.

"Nah. I got some things to do, but I’ll come back over later; that is, if you and Buffy feel like some company."

"Sure, why don’t you come back around dinnertime. Are you staying that long, Dawn?"

"Yep, you’re stuck with me, at least until tomorrow."

"Oh, I didn’t know. Good," Buffy said, turning toward Clem. "Then come back and you can eat dinner with us; there certainly looks as though there’s enough to feed a small army."

"I’ll be back around 6, how’s that?"

Both sisters nodded, and with that, Clem was out the door.

"I saw him;" Dawn said, as soon as Clem had left.

"Who him?"

"William. I was coming through town, just as he was leaving Edna's."

"Oh. Did he see you?"

Dawn nodded, "Yeah, I stopped and we talked for a while."

"What did he tell you?" Buffy asked.

"You know; when I asked him why he was leaving he gave me the old line about it being complicated," Dawn said, rolling her eyes.

"It is; at least I guess it is more for him, than it is for me."

"Oh, and I told him he was an asshole, and I slugged him."

"Dawn!" Buffy said, aghast.

"Don’t worry, I hugged him first; after too, for that matter. What can I say, he deserved it. I just thought someone in the family should, since you can’t seem to do it..."

"I nearly did," Buffy said. Seeing Dawn's expression, she added, "Not this time; that night in Los Angeles. I don’t suppose he shared where he was going with you?"

Dawn shook her head.

"Me either; all he said was that he wasn't running away this time, but that it was what he had to do as a man. Whatever the hell that means..."

"I don’t know Buffy, but you know Spike could never do things the easy way, I guess it must be the same for William."

"I never quite looked at it that way before, but you’re absolutely right, Dawn," Buffy said, thoughtfully.

"No, he didn’t," Buffy agreed, thinking back to how hard he’d tried to win her over when she wanted nothing to do with him at first. From going against his very nature to try to be good, to fighting to win back his soul when he’d hurt her; and ultimately, dying to save the world.

The question was, however; what did he want now?

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

12:00NOON

LOS ANGELES

After parking Wesley’s car, the men proceeded to the British Airways Terminal. William followed Wesley’s lead in getting their bags checked, and making it through the international security area, before getting to the British Airways pre-boarding lounge. The man checking William’s passport stared at it for a few moments longer than he had Wesley’s. Looking over at his computer terminal, he quickly clicked on the W’s under names that were red-flagged for security risks.

Under Worthington, a fifty-five year old man named Randall A., of Fort Worth, TX showed up. The man looked again at William. There was definitely no resemblance, familial or otherwise, to the man on the screen. Next, William was asked to take off his coat, his shoes, and to remove everything from his pockets, before going through the metal detector. He hesitated when his hand found the small box in his front pocket. Reluctantly, he placed it and everything else in the plastic bin on the conveyor belt. After going through the detector, he collected his things on the other side. For a moment he panicked when he didn’t see the box, or his wallet in the bin. He started scanning the crowd looking for someone who carrying his things.

"Looking for these?" Wesley asked, holding out William’s wallet and the small box.

"Yes," William said, taking them gratefully.

"Sorry if I caused you to become alarmed. I just didn’t want your valuables unattended for too long, so I took the liberty of holding them for you," Wesley said. In order to help him through the process, if warranted, Wesley had been in line behind William. However, when William had to stop to undo his boots, the screeners had motioned Wesley, along with a few other passengers ahead.

"Thanks. I thought someone had made off with them; know I could replace what’s in here, bother though it might be," William said, motioning to his wallet, "but some things can’t ever be..."

"I agree," Wesley said, hoping William would be forthcoming and tell him what it was he was carrying that fell into that category, but he didn’t. William finished retying his boots, then got the rest of his stuff. After proceeding to the departure gate, they took a seat in the waiting area.

"I wish we’d had time to grab something to eat before boarding. Even though the food is supposed to be very good on this flight, I never quite trust airline food. However, we’re lucky we got here when we did," Wesley said, looking at his watch. They were scheduled to leave in less than half an hour.

"That’s fine; don’t think I could eat now if I tried," William replied.

"Are you nervous?"

"A bit," William said, swallowing. In actuality, he was quite nervous. He stood up and walked over to the huge, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the runways, and watched as a plane landed, then taxied up to the terminal. The plane was huge; the largest that he could see out there; and he still didn’t understand how something so big could fly. Of course, for the first 27 years of his life, planes hadn’t even been invented. In fact, if you subtracted the 120+ years he didn’t recall as Spike; then just a little more than a year ago, his basic transportation mode had been horse and buggy. It made his head swim just thinking about it all. Finally, he returned to his seat next to Wesley, just as the flight attendant got on the public address system, and started to announce the start of passenger seating.

"British Airways Flight 9310 to London’s Heathrow Airport is now ready to begin boarding. Those in first class may now line up to board."

"That’s not us. We’ll probably have another 20-30 minutes before they get to us. We’re in row 52, somewhere toward the back, I suspect."

"My God, how many people does it hold?"

"I believe it holds upwards of 700 people."

"Seven hundred...? Why that's the size of a small town," William said, shaking his head.

"Yes, quite," Wesley said, nodding. "We’re booked on the Airbus A380; the largest, and newest passenger airplane; only around four or five years old, I believe. I must confess; I’m rather excited to have the chance to fly on such an aircraft. It’s supposed to be quite posh, from what I hear; which is a good thing, since it’s a long flight."

"How long?" William asked, feeling more and more uneasy by the moment.

"Would be about 11 or 12 hours direct, if memory serves. This flight is making a couple of stops, however. With 700 seats, the airlines want to have it flying with as many passengers as possible. That means," Wesley said, calculating, "probably more like 14 or 15 hours, including the stopovers I should think. That is, if there’s no other delays."

"That long?" William asked, gulping.

"I never took one of those either," William said, innocently.

Wesley stared at him, "I do believe that you must have at some time...in your past."

William stared back at Wesley, then realized what he was implying. Of course! How else would he have ever come to the States? He’d forgotten that this man was also a Watcher, like Mr. Giles. He wondered how much about his past, about Spike, he also knew.

"Still," Wesley said, trying to steer the conversation away from William’s past, after seeing him drop his eyes away in discomfort, "I think you’ll find that the time passes rather quickly, and you can always sleep part of the time."

"Don’t imagine I’ll be able to relax enough to do that," William said, softly.

"Well, if not, there’s always movies, music, drink. Say, did you bring a book?"

William shook his head, "No, I wish I’d thought of that."

"Well, never mind. I believe the airplane even has a duty-free shop, so you can probably pick up a quick read on board."

William didn’t even bother to ask what duty-free meant.

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

LONDON

8:00PM

"I’ve finished with the bedroom Mr. Giles. If that’s all you’ll be needing of me now, then I’ll be taking my leave for the evening."

"Very good, Mrs. Greeves. It looks very welcoming," Giles said, surveying the guest bedroom that William would be staying in.

"Should be after all the hard work I put in this past week. The room hasn’t likely been cleaned in years," Mrs. Greeves said, giving him an accusing glance, as she wrinkled up her nose.

The fifty-something housekeeper had been with him for years, before moving to the states. He’d been lucky to get her back a couple of years ago, after her then-present employer died. She was good-hearted, thorough, and discreet about his vocation. Still, she rankled him sometimes, when she spoke her mind. Giles bit back his retort.

As far as the state of the room went, he could hardly be blamed. For years he’d hardly lived there at all. Then after finally moving back for good, he’d had nowhere other than the spare bedrooms to keep all the Council’s records; at least those that had been able to be recovered from a variety of sources. He hadn’t been the only Watcher to occasionally lift a record or two for his own use throughout the years, and as head of the Council now, he’d called in his numerous favors from those few Watchers still around. They’d agreed that with the New Order of Watchers, NOW for short, though still referred to as The Council, that having all the records in a centralized location made sense.’

So, thanks to Willow, a year after Sunnydale had been destroyed, untold volumes of records had been transferred to computer databases. Of those, he still had all of the original copies, plus multitudes of texts and journals he stubbornly resisted putting into on hard drives, floppys, and CD-ROM's.

Although quite comfortable with computers over the past years, Giles also learned how apparently easily they could be hacked into. The only way to insure the safety of the new slayers was to make sure the information wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. Therefore, certain information he kept in the databases of old – the bound type.

Giles had chosen the third floor bedroom, which contained the least amount of boxes and books, to become William’s room during his stay. After all the records had been removed, Mrs. Greeves had thoroughly cleaned the room, making it ready for his guest.

Another bedroom next to his on the second floor had been made ready for Wesley.

"You’ve done a fine job. Thank you, for staying later than normal, Mrs. Greeves; I truly appreciate it," Giles said.

She waved off his praise with a flourish of her hand, "Ach! Don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow; bright and early," she said.

Giles listened as she made her way down the two flights of stairs, and to the front hall. The slam of the door let him know she’d gone. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the room, his eyes sweeping over it critically. He’d purposely left a good variety of books in the dark teakwood bookcases in case William wanted to read. They contained poetry, and philosophy, as well as short stories and novels. There was also an abundance of blank journals, should William want to write; he sincerely hoped that would be the case.

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

LOS ANGELES

12:30PM

"Well, that’s us," Wesley said, rising from the seat. William followed suit, slinging the backpack containing the laptop and a few other things over his back, then going to stand in the queue leading to the portable hallway leading from terminal to plane.

"Enjoy your trip," said a pretty, Indian-looking woman, as she handed William back his ticket, before he entered the hallway.

"Thank you," he replied, and taken aback momentarily by her crisp English accent, matched only by the crispness of her British Airways uniform.

Wesley had stopped a few feet away, and smiled encouragingly at William as he started through the passageway towards the plane.

At the door to the plane, another woman, also obviously a British native - this one with brown hair and blue eyes, welcomed them aboard. To William’s way of thinking, her looks fit with what he expected one speaking the Queen’s English to look like.

He had to admit; it made him a bit excited to be hearing so many familiar voices all in the same day; first Wesley, then these two attendants. Although they’d occasionally watched Masterpiece Theater, and he had heard the occasional British actor on the television, in the little more than a year he’d been living with Elizabeth, he’d only once spoken at any length to one other person who sounded like him, and that had been Mr. Giles.

William followed Wesley through the huge plane, until they found their seat numbers. The interior wall was colored soft beige, and the seats were in soft tones of sea green and mauve. They found their assigned seats on the fore side of the plane, and as Wesley had predicted, about two-thirds of the way back. There were 10 seats across, three on each side, and four in the middle. The plane hummed with mechanical noises, as well as passengers taking their seats, stowing their belongings, and talking excitedly to each other, and the other passengers.

"Nice sized seats," Wesley commented as he took the middle one, insisting that William take the window seat, assuring him that there was nothing like seeing the world and all its glory from the air. William wasn’t so sure. He’d have preferred the aisle, and to keep his eyes shut for that matter, but he didn’t feel like coming off sounding like a ponce.

The flight attendant, whose name was Angela, stopped and asked them if they would like to purchase specialized earplugs, amusingly enough called, ‘Ear Planes,’ to help with the pressure. Wesley bought them two sets.

"What was that?" William asked, upon hearing a loud slamming sound, accompanied by feeling a change in pressure.

"Nothing to worry about," Wesley assured him. "I believe they’ve just closed the doors, and are preparing for..."

The lights flickered for a moment, and the plane started to back up away from the hangar.

"Welcome aboard British Airways flight 9310 to London’s Heathrow Airport, with connecting stops in Chicago and New York..." said a flight attendant over the plane’s intercom.

"Chicago?" William asked, the color draining from his face. "Why are we stopping in Chicago?"

"It’s just to pick up other passengers, as I explained. Then we land in New York, pick up some more, drop off some, then it’s across the Atlantic on to England," Wesley answered in a whisper, directing William’s attention back to the rest of the message.

The flight attendant went on, as the airplane started to back up from the hangar, directing the passenger’s attention to the plane’s exits, and in-flight emergency procedures, in case of a sudden landing. William followed along intently, though his mind now had other things to worry about.

A few minutes later, the plane was accelerating down the runway. William gripped the seat arms tightly, but none-the-less, watched as the plane lifted off. He saw the Pacific Ocean before the plane banked, and started to head eastward. Looking out the window, he saw the low foothills of the Los Angeles Basin, and the larger mountains to the south, wondering if he could see all the way to Julian; wondering when he’d ever find his way back.

END CHAPTER 173

CHAPTER 174 – ANOTHER LIFETIME AGO

NOVEMBER 20, 2009

THURSDAY

6:00PM

Wesley had hoped that the long flight would offer them an opportunity to talk. However, right after lunch had been served, William had opted to watch a movie. Halfway through it, despite what he’d predicted, he’d dropped off to sleep somewhere between the Rocky Mountains and Nebraska. Sighing, Wesley took out a book he’d brought along to read, while he waited for his traveling companion to awaken.

An announcement brought William awake. Opening his eyes, he realized after a moment where he was.

"What was that?" he asked, groggily.

"That was the Captain, saying we'll be landing in Chicago in about an hour."

"What time is it?"

Wesley looked at his watch. "California time, it's almost 4:00pm; its two hours later in Chicago."

William shook his head.

"I've never been to Chicago. I hear it's a great town for music, food, museums."

"Yeah, just great," William said, with a soft snort.

"You've been?"

"Could say that," William answered, then fell silent as Wesley regarded him. Suddenly something that Rupert had told him clicked into place.

"Chicago is where Buffy found you, isn't it? Where the amulet wound up."

Slowly William turned to Wesley. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the Watcher knew this part of it as well, but it must have been written on his face.

"I’m sorry," Wesley said, hastily. "That was rude of me and not really any of my business."

William regarded him for a moment, and saw he didn’t mean him any harm.

"That’s alright," he said, with a small shrug.

William turned back to looking out the window. The mountains were behind them now, and all he could barely make out was the geometric squares and rectangles of America’s heartland.

Another announcement was made over the intercom regarding Chicago. William turned back to Wesley.

"First thing I remember is waking up in a dark room, naked, and then falling. Thought my brother had played a cruel trick on me. I was in some sort of lower-level warehouse. When I finally managed to find a door, I wandered out and upstairs to The Field Museum’s main floor. I thought I was surrounded by monsters; thought I was in hell."

"What did you think were monsters?" Wesley asked.

"The dinosaurs. Well, I guess they were monsters," William said with a soft chuckle, "but I’d never seen a dinosaur skeleton before; hadn’t been discovered yet in my day."

"I see. How did you come to find your way out?"

"I didn’t. Was taken out on a gurney. I ran into a security guard who took exception to my being there; sure that my being naked didn’t help any," William said, with a grimace, "so he shot me."

"My God! You were shot?"

"Yeah," William said, pointing to his left leg above his knee. "Lucky for me it didn’t do much harm."

Wesley shook his head, dismayed. "So, if I’m to understand this correctly, mere minutes after coming back as your former, human self, you almost get shot to death by a trigger happy security guard’s handgun? That’s...that’s appalling is what that is!" Wesley said, indignantly.

"Yeah, you’d think that some high and mighty would’ve maybe thought to tell a Victorian lad about the Americans and their guns. Don’t quite think what I’d heard about the Wild West back in the day actually prepared me for that sort of encounter," William said, with a small snort.

"And you didn’t know who you were or where you were," Wesley stated.

"No, thought I was still back in London; thought my brother and his friends must’ve tricked me into drinking absinthe. How else could I explain to myself what I was seeing? Hearing? Either that or I was having some sort of horrible nightmare. I kept willing myself to awaken, but I couldn’t," he said softly.

"It must’ve been terrifying for you."

William nodded. "Not knowing where I was; thinking it was still 1880. I thought I’d lost my mind, along with everyone else thinking the same...I’m sorry; don’t know why I brought all that up. Not my habit to be talking about this to...just not my habit to talk of it is all."

"No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Though I’m curious to one thing."

"What’s that?"

"What led Buffy to find you, or even know that you were back amongst the living, let alone in Chicago?"

"I don’t know all of the story. Something about her seeing a picture of it; then later on, saw a picture of me in the newspaper - when I didn’t know who I was. Guess the papers thought it was a good story: ‘Man with no memory thinks he’s living in a different age,’ or some such thing," William said, averting his eyes.

"I think Willow was involved somehow, too. I’m afraid Elizabeth tried to tell me a couple of months ago, after I found out about...all of it, but I don’t think she filled me in on all the details. Either that, or if she did, I just couldn’t bear to hear it all."

"I understand," Wesley said, a bit disconcerted whenever William referred to Buffy as Elizabeth. Giles had already told him to expect that, though he hadn’t elaborated. He supposed that perhaps it was her real name.

"Don’t see how you possibly could."

"No. Of course not; I couldn’t possibly; I just meant if I were in your shoes, I’d likely feel the same way."

"You mean my human 19^th Century Victorian shoes now standing in the 21^st Century, in between which I was a vampire? Those shoes?"

"Yes, those very ones," Wesley said, laughing. He couldn’t help but like William’s self-deprecating humor. He understood it all too well, had used it often enough himself as a coping mechanism.

The corner of William’s mouth crinkled up, and he laughed as well. His life was somewhere between a Shakespearian comedy and a Greek tragedy. Might as well make mirth of it; either that or drown in his own private sorrows, and he’d done enough of that of late.

"How long did you know Elizabeth? I’ve never heard her mention you before."

Wesley inwardly winced. No, he wouldn’t suppose Buffy would have come to mention him. He certainly hadn’t been her favorite person when he’d tried to take over as her Watcher. It had been years since they’d spoken, after he left in utter disgrace after she had defeated the mayor. He decided not to bring up Faith.

"I was actually Buffy’s Watcher for a short time," he said. William looked surprised. Wesley told the story of how the Council had sent him, after dismissing Giles, feeling that the Watcher had gotten too close to Buffy. "Not to mention that Giles refused to go along with some of their more archaic, methods of Slayer training." Not that he’d thought so then.

"Of course, as I found out in short order, Buffy wasn’t one to be bossed around by anyone; especially one who was as green as I was. Oh, I was quite good at the research end of it, and knew all about how to kill demons by the book, but I’d never actually done it myself in the field. When it came time for me to face a real one, I was quickly outted as the ponce I truly was. I'm afraid I needed rescuing much more than Mr. Giles or the rest of Buffy's inner circle of friends ever did," Wesley said, then quickly added. "Of course, now I'm quite proficient at fighting, but back then..."

"So, what happened? Did Mr. Giles get reinstated as her Watcher?"

"For a while, from what I understood. Though after a certain point, they pretty much seemed to stop taking direction from the Council at all. They seemed to have reached an agreement of sorts, whereas your Ms. Summers and Mr. Giles just worked independently, for the most part, only consulting with the Council when necessary."

William smiled to himself. He could well imagine that Elizabeth wouldn’t be the type to take directions from a bunch of old, self-righteous English prats, such as Wesley had described them.

"Did you stay on in Sunnydale?"

"No, I tried my hand at being an independent demon hunter. Went out and bought myself a motorbike, and even wore leather, if you can imagine. I hoped if I looked tougher and a lot more capable than I truly was, demons would fear me, rather than challenge me."

"Preaching to the choir here," William said, with a sympathetic nod.

Wesley stopped for a moment to regard him. "Yes, I can see that I am, William. Though I tend to think, and I’m sure others would agree; you wear the look much better than I ever did. I never felt like I was in my own skin when I was donning the...look. However, I must admit, it did make me feel tougher, superficially of course. Inside, I was still the same weak person. I didn’t really start to hone my own fighting skills, until after I started working for Angel."

Angel! This man works for Angel! Or at least, the organization that Angel had worked for.

William’s pulse immediately quickened, as he took in his situation. He regarded Wesley through narrowed eyes. Had this been some sort of set up all along? Had Wesley been sent along to collect him, for the very purpose of leading him into some sort of trap? Did Mr. Giles know, too? Was he in on this? After all, as Clem had reminded him, Mr. Giles hadn’t exactly been a fan of his back in the day. Without Elizabeth knowing, Mr. Giles could be... He shook his head; his thoughts beginning to border on the absurd. After all, he’d been the one to contact Mr. Giles, not the other way around!

Still...William wondered if he shouldn’t be making some sort of contingency plan to get off the plane in Chicago, in order to get away from this man.

"Worked with Angel did you?" William said, his voice neutral, though his body was taut with nerves.

"Yes, I went to work for him right after..." Wesley stopped. Looking over at him, he caught sight of the clenched jaw and the flash of cold anger in William’s eyes, before it was quickly camouflaged.

Wesley shook his head; "It’s not like that; let me explain..."

"Yeah, why don’t you do that, Pryce? Explain to me why you’d go to work with for a killer like him?" William said in a low, dangerous voice. "More over, what do you want with me?"

"Want with you? Nothing at all," Wesley said, bristling, "I’m only here to accompany you to London, as a favor to Mr. Giles. I assure you, I have no hidden agenda."

William looked at him skeptically.

"Look, it was inexcusably thoughtless of me to bring up Angel, forgetting what he put you through only of late."

"Not just me," William said.

"No, of course not. You and Buffy," Wesley said.

"All I can tell you, and whether you chose to believe me or not is up to you, is that Angel did good for many, many years. He saved people, he fought against the dark forces, just like Buffy..."

"Don’t you dare compare him to her in the same breath!" William hissed.

"He’s a vampire!"

"He has a soul."

"So what? Didn’t stop him from killing, did it?"

"It did for a long time."

"So what? Because a little killing is okay, if you stop every once in a while?"

"You were a vampire," Wesley said, then immediately regretted it.

William swallowed hard. "Yes, though I don’t remember it; but I know enough about being a vampire to know that being good, or having a soul doesn’t make up for the evil you’ve done."

"No, I don’t suppose it does; after all, you can’t ever undo what was done. But I do believe that trying to be good, doing good deeds, stopping killing, saving lives, is still a noble thing for a..."

"Noble?" William said, with a bitter laugh.

"Yes, William," Wesley said, gently. "It is noble to change from being a killer to one who saves lives; especially if that someone is a vampire, one whose very nature..."

"But it didn’t stop him, did it?"

"It’s complicated..." Wesley said.

William let out a small, hollow sounding laugh, remembering using those same words with Dawn only a few hours ago, and her reply that, ‘It’s complicated,’ just being a cover for someone not wanting to say what’s really going on.

"...but I’ll try to explain."

"Yeah, go ahead and do that," William said, skeptically.

Wesley told William about all of them having gone over to Wolfram & Hart, hoping to work for good from within. Told him that in time he, along with the rest of Angel’s original team, had gotten out, working together in the old agency. All except Angel, who Wesley reasoned, must have had his reasons for staying.

"Apparently, they played him; meant to manipulate him all along. Unfortunately, by that time, it was too late for Angel. He’d been corrupted by the power Wolfram & Hart gave him. Without any of us around to remind him just what side he was suppose to be working for...Well, he didn’t lose his soul and revert to Angelus per-se, but somewhere along the way, he seemed to have lost the capacity and motivation to do the right thing. He used use the supernatural powers available to him to hurt people, and to do his own manipulating."

"Seems simple; vampires just shouldn’t be trusted."

"That’s true, but I don’t think that missive can be uniformly applied to vampires with a soul."

"Yes, it can and should be!" William said, adamantly.

"I think Buffy would disagree," Wesley said, quietly.

"I think...I think she got her emotions involved; wasn’t able to think clearly like she should’ve been. Elizabeth started to see me, and him...Angel," William spat the name, "as men, instead of monsters."

"So then, you don’t believe in forgiveness or redemption? Do you think The Powers would have let you come back human, if they didn’t think you deserved it?"

"The Powers," William repeated, trying to wrap his mind around the word, and all that implied. He’d been brought up believing in God, a single God. A benevolent, forgiving, all-powerful, but also exacting, God.

Things were simple then. Break God’s commandments, you went to hell. Obey them, and your reward was heaven. Had the world changed so much that God was only an idea, and a distant memory to most? Had gods; plural, or The Powers taken over the role once filled by this belief?

Had the idea of One God really only been just another mythology? How many years had the Greeks and Romans believed in multiple deities such as Poseidon, Zeus, Apollo Athena, etc.? It wasn’t until Christianity spread, albeit violently much of the time, throughout the world, that those deities were replaced in the minds of the ancients with a single God.

In the future, would others look upon the belief of One God with superiority? Would they shake their heads in amused dismay that a people could be so ignorant? Chuckle at the simplicity of this era of the One God belief system?

William shook his head to clear his mind before it spiraled farther down that particular maze. Ah...the headache was beginning to reassert itself.

"I don’t know what I believe anymore," William finally answered, and he didn’t.

"It’s hard to know. You believe in a certain way all your life then all of a sudden, you’re thrust into a world you never would’ve believed could exist in consort with the one you thought you knew. Only you never really did."

Wesley nodded sympathetically, his face clouding over. "Unfortunately, I can’t claim ignorance; I never really could. See, my own father worked for The Council, so as far back as I can remember; I always knew that there was a world beyond the world that most believed existed. Still, even with that, I resisted; I didn’t want to believe. I envied my peers in their naivete, and wished with all my heart that I could be a part of their world. A world where one doesn’t know of the existence of monsters, and isn’t called upon to fight them."

"Or be one," William said softly.

"You’re not now! I think that’s what counts; you’ve been given a second chance."

William turned away, looking out the window. Second chances; that’s what Elizabeth and even Dawn had told him he’d been given. He just couldn’t understand why; which was one of the main reasons he was on this journey. He watched, the patterned landscape of farmland gradually giving way to a more populated look, as the plane started it’s slow descent towards Chicago.

Wesley was quiet for a few moments thinking about what William had told him. He’d been advised by Giles not to bring up anything to do with William’s past with him, due to, as Giles had put it, William’s ‘fragile’ state. However, the conversation had just drifted that way, as far as he could tell. He would have to tell Giles what William’s concerns were.

Since William seemed to have withdrawn from further conversation, Wesley picked up his book again. A few minutes later, William heard him mumble something to himself.

William looked over, just as Wesley closed the book. He arched his eyebrow seeing the cover. "You’re reading The Iliad in Greek?"

Wesley looked over at William with newfound respect. "Trying to might be the operative term. Just to keep up; translating ancient languages is one of my specialties. There are a lot of similarities between languages, if one knows how the words break down. I thought I’d try one of the classics in its original language."

William nodded; he used to be able to read and write both Greek and Latin fairly well, though he still had a degree of difficulty speaking them aloud. Still, he had been near the top of his classes in both.

"A certain phrase is giving me a terrible time, though. I think I know what it should be but..."

"Could I see it?" William asked, shyly.

"Certainly," Wesley said, opening up the book to the page he’d placed the corded bookmark in. "Starting here. I’ve worked out most of this..."

William started reading to himself, a bit above where Wesley had showed him in order to get the gist of the passage. ‘When many are got together, you can be guided by him whose counsel is wisest- and sorely do we need shrewd and prudent counsel, for the foe has lit his watchfires hard by our ships. Who can be other than dismayed? This night will either be the ruin of our host, or save it.’

William shook his head. "Not monuments. Sentinels. ‘Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. The sentinels went out in their armour under command of Nestor's son Thrasymedes...and so on," William said.

"Ah...that’s it!" Wesley said, excitedly.

"I think monument is...you don’t happen to have a pen, do you?"

Wesley pulled one from his pocket, along with a small notebook. He handed the items to William.

"William, which university did you attend?"

"Oxford."

"Oxford? Why that’s my alma-mater, as well." Wesley said, with a smile. "What year did you finish?"

"Graduating class of ’74," William answered.

For a minute, Wesley was stumped as he tried to calculate William’s age based on a 1974 date of graduation; then he realized his mistake. The man sitting next to him would have graduated from the university over 100 years before he was even born.

"Um, yeah. Long time ago," William said, seeing Wesley rendered speechless. "On the other hand, not remembering anything in between means that as far as my memory goes, it’s only been a few years."

"I’m sorry," Wesley said, clearing his throat, "I didn’t mean to put you on the spot."

"It’s fine."

A few minutes later, William heard a chime and saw the ‘fasten seatbelt’ lights come on. Everyone around him started to buckle up, so he followed suit.

"Good afternoon. The captain has turned on the seatbelt sign, signaling our descent as we approach O’Hare Airport. The temperature in Chicago is a cool

1 degree Celsius, or 33 degrees Fahrenheit, local time is 6:30pm. For those of you continuing on to New York and London, we ask that you please stay onboard during our stopover. For those of you whose destination is Chicago, we thank you for flying British Airways, and hope you’ve had a pleasant flight. We will be landing in approximately five minutes."

William tensed as the city came into view, and the engines started to throttle back, as they prepared for landing. He reminded himself that the last time he was here he had no control what so ever over his situation or life. At least he had that now. Whether or not he was happy with it, was another story. One thing had certainly changed since he’d last been there; he was no longer innocent, or ignorant. His life was in his own hands now.

He took a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind from thinking about how he’d started out here, in what seemed to be yet, another lifetime ago. Not only were they the most terrifying memories of being helpless and impotent, but they also brought up the bittersweet memories of meeting Elizabeth once again, and of the feelings of hope she’d given him. Afterwards, discovering for the first time what it felt like to be a man, with her, for her. Everything from the intense, almost sacred feelings of love and connection he immediately felt for her in his very heart, body, and soul, to the defiled, perverted, and horrifying nightmares that plagued him now.

"We’re almost on the ground," Wesley said.

William nodded weakly towards him, figuring the Watcher thought he was nervous about landing. In fact, the moment of landing was picture perfect, barely a bump to be felt. Still, he was glad for his companion’s calming presence.

A few moments later, the plane came to a stop at the terminal. There was a flurry of activity, as those who were getting off in Chicago, rose from their seats to gather their things.

"We’re sorry for the inconvenience, but all passengers need to take their seats until further notice," said the brisk announcement over the intercom.

There was a general grumbling, followed by some raised voices, and some passengers ignoring the request all together. The flight attendants came down the aisles, trying to get the cooperation of the passengers. The pressure released, as the doors opened. A few moments later, toward the front of the cabin, he saw one of the attendants pointing in his general direction.

William’s pulse quickened; his body poised for either flight or fight, as he saw the two men in white coats come hurrying down the aisle, carrying a stretcher between them. Before he could decide which it was to be, they passed right by him without even a glance, and headed towards the rear of the plane.

"What’s going on?" Wesley asked the flight attendant on her way after the paramedics.

"Heart attack, we think. Just stay in your seat," she said, rushing by.

William’s jaw unclenched as he slumped down, the aftermath of the rushing flood of adrenaline leaving him dizzy.

Wesley looked over at him, concern dawning on his face.

"What’s the matter?"

William shook his head, unable to say anything.

Wesley pulled an unopened bottle of water from the pocket in front of his seat that he’d forgotten to return to the flight attendant, and handed it to William.

William took it gratefully, uncapped it, and took a drink. Wesley noticed the slight trembling of his hands.

"What happened to you just then?"

"Seemed to have come down with a sudden case of poncyness," William said, sheepishly.

"I still don’t understand."

"It’s stupid, really. Just suddenly seeing those paramedics coming down the aisle with the gurney and all...here in Chicago," he said, with a shudder. "I thought for a moment, that they were from the hospital...one I was at. Thought they’d found out I was here somehow, and had come to take me back."

"Oh," Wesley said. "Still, I think it’s fairly safe to say that you needn’t ever worry about that happening."

"I know that, I just...Well, hence the title of ponce." Wesley patted his arm, and they both grinned.

After that, William relaxed. The man who’d gotten ill, was taken away by the paramedics, Chicago passengers got off, and the plane sat at the gate getting ready to admit those boarding here on their way to New York or London.

Wesley took out his cell phone, and proceeded to make a number of phone calls. While he did so, William tried to finish the movie he started, but couldn’t, not while they were on the ground. For a moment, he caught part of one of Wesley’s conversations. This one had him decidedly taking on a softer tone, as if he were speaking to someone for whom he deeply cared. William’s own hand slid down his inside coat pocket, until he felt his phone. He could call her; just to talk to her for a while, let her know he was...

No.

He couldn’t.

If he heard Elizabeth’s voice now, he’d never be able to go on. To distract himself, he settled for listening to some music over the headphones, (luckily that still worked), as he perused a British Airways’ onboard magazine. He felt fine now, calm even, but he’d still be relieved when they were on the next leg of their trip, and out of Chicago.

William’s attention was broken, as he glanced over at Wesley, and saw him looking back at him, worriedly. He turned down the volume on his headset and listened.

"...Oh no...I’m so sorry...No, I completely understand, don’t give it another thought; I’ll take care of everything....Stay as long as you need to...Yes...Please, let me know if I can do...Goodbye ...I’ll talk to you soon," Wesley said, flipping his phone shut.

"Trouble?"

"Not trouble per-se, but the slayer I left in charge, needs to go home to Oregon right away, as her father’s taken ill quite suddenly. Unfortunately, that leaves me in quite a fix; as she’s the only one I am sure would’ve been able to handle anything that came up. I’m afraid that means I’m not going to be able to continue on to London with you, William," Wesley said, regrettably.

"I see," William said, digesting the news.

"Um, yes. I guess I’m going to have to let the attendant know, and try to find a flight back to Los Angeles, and hope I can retrieve my luggage before it flies on without me. I’ll make sure Giles knows what’s happened, so he’ll be sure to personally meet you at the airport."

"I figured he already would be."

"Well, I’m not sure. I think he mentioned something about sending a car for us. I’m sure he’d have someone looking for us in any case. But I’ll make sure he comes to get you himself."

William nodded.

"When you land in London, just follow the rest of the passengers through customs, down to the luggage turnstile, etc., and you’ll do just fine," Wesley said, then remembered something, and pulled out his wallet. "I exchanged about $100 dollars for pounds this morning. I’ll give them to you, since I won’t be needing them."

"It looks different," William said, reverently examining the different pound notes Wesley handed him.

"Ah, that’s right," Wesley said. "Mostly coins back in your day, wasn’t it?"

William nodded. "Are there any coins still?"

*** "Yes, of course; just not quite as many as there used to be. And everyone carries bills now, just as much as coinage."

William took this in, as he reached for his own wallet. He pulled out five twenties and handed them to Wesley.

"I’m really sorry to leave off like this; I was rather looking forward to going home for a bit. I was also enjoying the company."

"Thank you; as was I," William said, smiling.

"Well, I guess I’d better be off then," Wesley said, standing up to get his carry-on bag from the compartment above the seats. "You sure you’ll be alright from this point?"

"I think I can manage," William said. He stood up, as Wesley slung his carry-on over his shoulder.

"It’s been a true pleasure, William. I hope we get a chance to talk again sometime. Actually, since I expect you’ll be coming back to California, there’s no reason why we can’t," Wesley said, extending his hand.

William took his hand, and they shook. He stood in the aisle, watching as Wesley walked down the plane aisle, until he turned toward the tunnel leading to the terminal.

The rest of the trip was for him, and him alone to make.

END CHAPTER 174

*** Back in Victorian times, three quarters of the population wouldn’t have come into contact with paper currency, which was only printed in large denominations. To carry their coins, they carried purses, or wallets, made to look like purses. Hence, when William tells Drusilla that she won’t be getting his purse, it’s not a feminine term he’s using, rather a practical one used by both men and women of his time.